Prevailing gas price in Durham when I was out last–$3.30.
Increase from the day before–$0.30.
How much worse it could be–bout two bucks (ATL, shawty!).
At what price Bo buys a bike–good question.
Now, a funny.

As most of you that have blogs know, I can tell from what domain every reader comes from and, often, I can tell from whence they were referred. If you’re on the mailing list, it will show me you got to Virtual Bomaniland by clicking the link in the e-mail. Same for if you came from a blogroll or whatever.
The fun is that I can also tell what search terms someone used on Google to get to the site. When I did the Superhead stuff, lots of folks wound up here looking for pics I definitely did not have. I also get a lot of people looking for Mike Jones’ site. In fact, checking referrals can really be hard on the ego.
Either way, someone got to the site yesterday by Googling, and I quote, “three dollars a fuckin gallon.” So, don’t be surprised if I start inserting random profane statements about gas prices just to drive up traffic.
My mother would surely say that I use profanity too randomly already, but I’m sure someone out there is Googling, “I’d kick you in the nuts and slap your wife with a Homey the Clown sock for enough gas to run this fuckin lawn mower.”
Just a thought.
Also, as if you needed anything else depressing from me on this hurricane–and it’s become a life-altering thing for me–check this fantastic piece in the New York Times on the role of race in perceptions and application of aid dispersal. Buddy said a lot of things I’ve had a hard time verbalizing. This is one of those pieces that reminds me of why I don’t write for the New York Times. This is first-class work.
This has gotten me to re-prioritize a bit. Hell, it got me to call my ex-girlfriend. I keep saying that a lot. People who don’t know me are probably sick of hearing that. People who know me understand that it would take something like hell freezing over to get me to do that.
And that’s about what it took. Sorta strange how you never really stop loving somebody, even if you’d prefer not to speak with them or know much, if anything, about their lives. Odd.
Or maybe that all runs hand-in-hand.
Yeah, let’s stop that digression there, shall we? Instead, enjoy this ditty from The Onion. Mama, you don’t wanna read this. Just trust me.
Okay, back to catch a wink or two before my day gets in full gear, including a probable trip to the damn DMV.
We all know now that our lives could be way worse, but the DMV remains annoying as hell, and nothing could change that. No big deal, but just a little tough on my pressure.
Back later today. Got a piece on Page 2. And my man will be here to guest post. As you can imagine, I think he’s got bigger shit to worry about. The irony–it’s the big shit that’s gonna bring him here. Big reason I keep bigging this up is because I’m very interested to hear just what he has to say.
Back soon. Pwwomise.