Mystery Solved!

A special thanks goes out to Ben Polly, whose sleuthing uncovered the mystery of the "I'm Sorry" billboard. He tracked down the billboard company, who gave him the following response:

Hi Ben,

Personal boards often do intrigue others….the board on West O was placed by a gentleman, not a company. It was directed at his long-term girlfriend. I do not know the specifics (nor would we share them even if we did), but he had a reason to apologize to her and thought this would be a good way to say it in a “big” way. He did not wish to disclose his name or hers, but the 3 lines on the side represent a signature of some sort that they both understand…maybe he has just always signed his notes to her that way.

It would probably be an interesting addition to your blog, and you can speculate how you wish on the story behind it…You know as much as I do otherwise J

Donna

As Donna says, speculate away my friends. And again, props to Ben for the over-zealous but well-appreciated detective work. If you ever take out an anonymous passive-aggressive billboard for your love, you better pray to God (or Thor) that Ben Polly doesn't find out. He will hunt you down and kill you. Or at least find some shit out.


Also, I was kinda right: desperate attempt at reconciling with an ex FTW!

cheers.
.charlie

We Like You More Than a Friend.

Hey loyal readers/confused passersby,
First of all, thanks for reading. The feedback has been good, so we're just gonna keep on... keep truckin'. And, we'd love for you all to get involved in our goings on here at Just Above Kansas. Here's how you can help:

1. Sign up for our e-mail list -- it's easy, it's free, it's something to do while you're bored at work/school.
2. E-mail us ideas for stories, layouts, links, whatever. We live to please.

Interested? Just e-mail me and I'll make it happen. As always, thanks for reading.

cheers.
.charlie

I Took Out a Billboard For All My Ex-Girlfriends.

Not really. But on my way home from work I see this billboard. It sits at about 15th and West O.


Hmmmm. No corporate logos, no URL, no anything. But the thing does look somewhat professionally done, what with the little graphical elements and color choices -- an amateur probably would've gone for black and white, right?

So here are the possible explanations for who would be apologizing to the city, and why...

1. Mayor Chris Beutler (the new guy) for slashing youth sports from Lincoln's budget, rendering Lincoln's youth an entire generation of Bad News Bears. He's a nice guy, and I think he'll be a good mayor, but he did kind of screw that up.
   
2. Maurice Purify for accidentally turning into a Miami Hurricane for a few weeks there.
3. Alltel Wireless and/or Time Warner Cable for general bastardness.
4. Cliffs and WC's for both closing for remodeling/moving at the same time, leaving me with nowhere to drown my sorrows after work.
5. Rod Kush for years of agonizingly bad commercials that, for some reason, always ran during The Simpsons when I was growing up.
   

Your thoughts? Who else could be apologizing? Comment below and add your two cents.

.cheers
charlie.

I Promise We're Here

Sorry for the lack of posts. Busy week(s) of work and preparing to leave for a week. So may be a little slow (though I promise a new post soon) and then we'll hit full stride by the end of July.

And.... if you have post/story ideas or pictures or things you'd like to see here, please email me. You know you want to.

thanks.
.charlie

#1 With a "Bullet"

Here's something I hate.

"Whoa, did someone shoot up your truck, Tom?"
"No, but it looks like it, right!?!?!"

I put this in the same tool-status category as Bluetooth headsets. Exactly how low does your self-esteem need to be for this to be a part of your vehicle? Is this guy so insecure about his toughness that he feigns this sad attempt to look like someone shot up his car? Or does he just like NASCAR?


cheers.
.charlie

A Sunburn and a PT Cruiser: The Tale of My Darkest Hour

I'm not much for delving into my personal life for all the world to see, but this story begs telling. Where to begin? How about at the beginning...

A/C. Not like Slater, like the kind in your car.
You know how every car after the Model-T has air conditioning? So did my Honda Civic, until about two months ago. I went in, had the freon charged and everything was fine. For about a month. Then things started acting up again. I took it to Firestone Tire & Service Centers at 11th & N, a few blocks from my office.

They informed me that a "relay fuse" had blown, they replaced it that day, and they charged me a fairly reasonable price. Problem solved, the air was blowing cold. It was like biting into a York Peppermint Pattie.


Then, The Completely Expected.
The next day, one hour into my 7-hour car ride to Minnesota, a sound burst forth from my vents, and what began as sweet, frosty air turned into the breath of Satan. "Oh, darn," I thought, "what an unfortunate circumstance that hath befallen me." I rolled down the window, stuck my pale left arm out, and subjected myself to the one-sided sunburning of a lifetime. I arrived at the lake looking like TwoFace, assuming TwoFace's condition extended to his arm, shoulder and neck.

Before heading back to Nebraska, I was informed by my father that I was in need of four new tires, as my current set had been stripped balder than Britney Spears after a bender. Add another couple hundred to the bill.

The trip home (on my sweet new Firenza tires, I might add) was one hour more miserable than the trip there. I returned to Nebraska with an even more intense half-burn, just in time to celebrate our nation's independence by drinking beer and blowing shit up.


Back to The Shop.
I took the Civic back to the mechanic today, 6 days after my last visit. After running some checks he informed me that "The reason the little thing went out in your A/C is because the big thing that powers it is broken." Thank you, Click & Clack. This, I was told, would be a much more expensive repair than the first one. Now, if you don't know me, let me say this: though I enjoy gator boots and/or pimped out Gucci suits, I am not made of money (but I'm still fly). My tab was beginning to run up, it was getting out of control, I was angry.

But A/C is A/C. You need it. Well I do, anyway. So I bit the bullet, told the shop to go ahead and make the repair and started printing out flyers for my new prostitution business. Who knew baby would have to turn tricks to make ends meet!?!?!

Then, the dagger. They ordered THE WRONG PART. Yep. So that's another 2 days in the shop for the Civic, which means I was privy to a free rental car until Saturday afternoon. And that's where things got crazy...


The Nail In The Coffin.
It's not that I don't like PT Cruisers. I hate them. They are maybe (maybe) acceptable for 45-year-old soccer moms. But they suck. A lot. So of course, I got one. Son of a bitch. Now I have to cart myself around town in the quintessential mom-mobile, making people wonder if I'm making an emergency run to the grocery store for Capri Sun and Shasta or picking up my son from soccer practice where I push him relentlessly to compensate for the athletic shortcomings of my youth.

It sucks. So I decided to send a message to the world as I drive around. Observe:


The end result: A partial sunburn, an idiotic mechanic and the mom-mobile with a message. The only thing that could've made this story worse is if there was a Sheryl Crow CD stuck in the PT and I couldn't turn it off. So I guess I have that to be thankful for.