Well, I’ve once again sent my monitor back to Sharp for warranty repair; it now displays that accursed line constantly, so I have no fear that they’ll miss it a second time. (The first time I sent it in, the line would appear and disappear at random—so I can’t blame them for not finding anything wrong.) Once again, the process was painless (aside from the necessary pain of losing my monitor for a week) and they paid for shipping both ways. In short, I think Sharp’s treated me quite well—and consequently I’m recommending them to y’all. I like companies that have my back.
The dance of the day was west coast swing, and it’s obviously the most convoluted of the dances I’ve been exposed to. I have some advantages—e.g. I can actually lead, if I remember to—over others, and I think that’ll make some difference. At least, I hope it will; I’ll never be the fastest to pick up a new dance. Marco and Earl both made appearances, and a respectable number of the follows I recognize from previous dance classes. It should make for some good times.
I even saw Barry (my friend who shares “wallflower” status with me at dance practices), and we’ve renewed our competition to see who’ll dance more—starting tomorrow evening. I know I’ll have my game face on.
As I drove home from west coast swing (an evening class), I passed my dad walking Yoshi. On a whim I jogged out and joined them, catching up with them in front of a house. Yoshi then started scratching himself for a while; this apparently left us lingering in front of the house long enough to cause a man to come barreling out:
Man: WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING? [very aggressively said, and this guy is big]
Dad: Huh?
Man: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Dad: We’re just walking our dog.
Man: [pause] Do you have a dog with you?
Brent: He’s black. [Dad trains the flashlight on Yoshi]
Man: …
[We are eventually allowed to continue walking on the sidewalk without getting the crap beaten out of us]
Brent: hahahahahahaha
If this story had been an early scene in a movie where you and your dad were slimeball crimelords, you and your dad would have shot the imposing yahoo as a way to generically establish your calm use of violence and lack of mundane fear.