Karma is a Beach

After my last post (sent from the car wash) I had to take a break – seems the universe repaid me for sharing my opinion and judgment. I will not go into detail but the penalty for mocking someone in the car wash came with a hefty price. I am too embarrassed to even post the few photos of what the rest of the day entailed. For those that I trust I will (or already have shared) the 4 photos of shame. So far only Kate has betrayed my trust and shared it with an entire table at the Tepanyaki Japanese Grill in Lehi.

Silver lining: I learned that if I didn’t own a Honda things may have turned out for the worse

Another karmic example would be the hilarity of dog sitting and my misguided attempt to let a chocolate lab act as the steam locomotive that could pull me on my longboard. I promise, I do have three college degrees and a marginal understanding of physics. As with all great disasters, it seemed like a good idea at the time. [How could this be any different from being towed on skis behind a snowmobile up a ski slope? Really?]

Things were fine until my center of gravity and the velocity of the dog were compromised by the unexpected variable known to the layman as ducks. Yes, I abandoned ship as the gallop turned into the “seek and destroy” velocity of a guided missile. My K-9 ward, sweet and affable, experienced a demonic possession by the spirit of that laughing dog from Nintendo’s Duck Hunt. Off towards the grass and ganders the dog leapt. I released the leash while having a flashback to an A-Team episode where Hannibal gave sage advice to Ace: roll when you hit the ground. This mental interstitial quickly gave way to a choice four-letter expression that was socially allowable for the circumstances. My struggle to stay upright translated into a vaudeville characterization that was more Scooby-Doo than controlled. In a battle that was lost within seconds, I opted for a face-to-face greeting with the slimy grass of Sugar House park. The freshly melted and exposed grass made for a well-greased slide that accommodated my graceful quasi-cart wheeled belly flop.

While slopping the mud off of my knees I thought about how stupid I must look. Ego and embarrassment almost took hold until I had to answer to a dog that was hell-bent on doing at least one lap around the park. I couldn’t disappoint the dog so with leash in hand and mud in my eye we kept on chugging (longboard in hand, not under foot). After one lap I stowed the board and we made another round and the mud eventually flaked off. One more opportunity to laugh at myself.

The universe had many lessons to teach this past week. As always, I made the ideal pupil and obviously obliged. In any event I had a great time dog sitting, longboarding, getting a free mud scrub, and generally making a spectacle of myself in public. True Story.

For kicks here is a quickie to make up for my recent silence:
Last weekend also included a visit to Joe’s Crab Shack – I give it two enthusiastic thumbs down. Even with low expectations that place can’t pass muster. The only saving grace would be the company that you surround yourself with (two thumbs up + a Macarena dance).

Matt’s Dining Tip #428b: Make sure that you don’t ask for lemon with your fish at Joe’s Crab Trap. Why, why would you not want to ask for lemon with your fish?! Well, since you are asking I will tell you. For some reason this request equates to asking your waitress to turn into a sneering, neglectful, nasty Cracken. Never, I repeat, NEVER ask for lemons and (whatever level comes above never) ask for more lemons. And if you are going to leave a 10% gratuity you better be able to haul ass outta there.