Crosswalk button pounding

Lately I've noticed a phenomenon that taking the streets of Bend by storm. Crosswalk button pounding. I saw one the other day. The guy, about in his late twenties, looked kinda like a macho tough guy with his hood over his head and some edgy facial hair on his chin, walks up to the crosswalk and without giving it a second thought, just pounds the crosswalk button with a full hammer-fist three times. Bam bam bam. As if hitting it harder and more often is going to make the button change faster. I'm sure that's what the creator programmed into it. Completely unnecessary. And another guy today walking with his little brother around town. Again, some kinda tough guy. Does some kind of swagger and proceeds with hitting the defenseless button with his open palm three times (what's with hitting it three times?) and goes back to his swagger stance. Break the button why don't you. What's up with that?

mini-coughing

Have you ever heard someone doing a mini-cough? It's like a cough, but smaller and insignificant. I say insignificant because I believe it does absolutely nothing but redistribute the phlegm in your throat. This is annoying to me, especially in quiet places when I can hear every little mini-cough the person makes. I was once a mini-cougher myself and have long ago repented of my ways. I did it in quiet places like during a test when I though a loud cough would bother people so I did a mini-cough. Problem solved right? Wrong! Years after I started this fabulous technique did I realize how ridiculous it really is. It was then that I decided to do nothing less then a full on cough every time I need to. So today I was on one of those elliptical machine down at the old gym. I had about ten minutes left in my routine when a guy came to use the machine next to mine. He started to use the machine and turned the little TV to the Olympics. I thought, "this guy's alright." But then he started to mini-cough. He did it once and kept doing it about every 10 seconds until the end of his run. I could hear it every time he did it too. Weird. I really wanted to liberate him by encouraging him to just let it all out and give it one good cough. I didn't. He's probably still mini-coughing to this day.

an awkward encounter with an annoying family

I ran into some annoying people today. I was on my way to Starbucks to finish off my gift certificate with a talle breve single toffee nut frap with whip (of course). I had just gotten out of my car when I discovered a family with some their friends standing on the side walk having a good time. When I walked by them I glanced to observe whatever festivities may have been taking place. Apparently, they had found a homeless man's signs (the ones he had been using for begging). The homeless man wasn't there, but had probably went inside to go to the bathroom or to get warm, but had left his sings outside. Well, this family thought it was so funny to pick up the signs read them and even hold the sign in front of themselves pretending that they were begging. Ha ha ha, what? I was a bit disturbed by the whole sight and pointed out that the signs belonged to someone who actually used them for begging and that he probably didn't want people play with them. To which they responed, "well we weren't going to mess them up! Why don't you get over yourself!" I was mad. I had never seen such disturbing scene in my life. How terrible that they were making a joke out of poverty. After our little incident, I went in for my drink just to have them standing right behind me in line for theirs. How awkward.

My festive wound

Valentine's day '010

I got a very special Valentine today. It all started when I was playing dodgeball the night before and decided to go big and run right up to line at the very start of game so I could be the hero and hit a bunch of balls back to my team. I heard the "GO!" and ran as fast as I could toward the no-man's-land dividing the two halves of the gym. I forgot that I had been wearing jeans with giant gaping holes in the knees, and when I get close to the line, I came to a halt sliding on my knees to get the ball. I didn't feel it at the time, but after being sent to the jail only seconds into my epic ball gathering mission, I felt the pain that adrenaline had covered up for a moment. Aparantly, I got an annoying rug-burn on my right knee from my rock-n-roll slide move. The next day, Valentine's day as it would appear, I looked at my rug-burn and it was in the shape of a heart. It almost felt supernatural, like a little "I love you" from God. The thing is, I hate rug-burns; not very many people do. Maybe God should have talked to my friends before Valentine's day so He would've gotten me something I would like.

A childhood dream come true

Well, the day has finally come for Wesley Welch. I used to work in an office with a coworker, but she moved to her own office, so the room is all mine! I'm really excited because of the two desks in the room, I used the high one with the really tall chair which made me feel like a little kid with my feet dangling above the floor (which was fun at first, but became less fun as time went on). Toward the end of the day I could sometimes feel blood rushing to the bottom of my feet because I hadn't moved them for a good few hours. And my posture was all out of whack too. But now! but now I have the short, or well, regular height desk with the awesome executive chair! (not a plastic frame, canvas "chair" with barely rollable wheels and a back that I'd have to readjust every couple days). Now, my chair is made of "leather" and, wait, I just smelled it and it's not leather, it has a great back though and I can touch my feet on the ground. Ah, it has armrests! This is the desk I had always dreamed of when I was a kid. I was a strange child and dreamed of an office job where I'd where a pressed shirt and tie to work and make copies on a machine and have a cup of coffee on my cherry wood desk in my third-floor office with a view of something worth looking at and a modern garbage can full of triangular paper cups from the water cooler down the hall where I'd talk to people about the stock market and what I did that weekend. Oh, and I'd also live in Minneapolis, root for the Twins (though I didn't and still don't know anything about baseball), and have a golden retreiver, but never get married cause girls were weird. Hmm, childhood dreams. One fulfilled. But I still have to become an artist, a pilot, and a museum guide and travel the world.