The Wheels are in Motion...

Tomorrow is a big day at work: I put in my two weeks notice. Today I was "sick" so I could go get my car looked at in Santa Monica.

It was such a beautiful day. I mean, don't think I don't feel guilty when I call in "sick." So I went to the doctor's office and asked for something--some sort of unnecessary treatment so I could at least have done SOMETHING involving medicine. I paid the woman behind the counter ten bucks to do something, so she drew some blood for me. She insisted she had no medical training, and was simply the receptionist. Blood is blood, though. She got it out, so that's what matters. I suppose it serves no medical purpose for it to have dripped all over the floor, but so what? I can honestly tell my boss that I did something medical-related.

Not that it matters. As I said, tomorrow I put in my two weeks notice. I spent today in Santa Monica. Saab of Santa Monica says my car needs a new turbocharger. "Wait, wait. You're saying my car needs a NEW turbocharger? WHY?!"

"Wear and tear," the guy said. "They sometimes just wear out. It's covered under warranty (and California emissions laws)."

"How could it wear out? Did I drive it wrong?"

"No," he said. "I mean, it DOES have 61,000 miles (almost 100,000 km). Sometimes, the turbo lasts forever. Sometimes they wear out."

Well shit. This is news to me. I thought a car with 61,000 miles was just getting broken in. Hell's bells, I didn't think something like this was supposed to go until about 150,000 miles. But I don't have to pay for it, so they can twin turbocharge it for all I car.

Meanwhile, on a car related note, I saw a Bugatti Veyrton as I left Trader Joe's today. That's an insane car. As far as I know, it's the most expensive production car on the market. That's right, somewhere in the neighborhood of $1,300,000 (about a million euros). That's a house in Pasadena, or a small subdivision in Katy, Texas. As it drove by me, it had a sound like nothing I'd ever heard before. I believe it was the aural equivalent of mixing a fleet of Kawasaki Ninjas, a high-speed blender, a Lear jet, and elephant testacles. Wow. It was something that has to be heard.

How Do I Quit?
I'm trying to figure out how to write my two week's notice letter. I'm trying to choose from among the following:

Option 1
"Dear Ms. Penderginski,

Went out. I'll be back in five minutes. If not five minutes, then probably never.

Sincerely,

Ryan Medinski"

Option 2
"Dear Ms. Penderginski,

Two weeks sure may seem like a long time, unless you pay me two weeks wages and let me leave right now.

Sincerely,

The Noisiest Asshole in Existence"

Option 3
"Dear Ms. Penderginski,

I haven't done any work in three and a half months. I spend my days playing with myself and stealing office supplies. I am giving you this--my two weeks fucking notice--before you fire me."

Sincerely,

Ryan Medinski"

Option 4
"Dear Ms. Penderpoophead,

I'm going to take this chance to not only give you my two weeks notice, but to tell you I plan on using your office as my own personal bathroom.

Sincerely,

Ryan Medinski"

Option 5
(On corporate letterhead of some other company)

"Dear Ms. Penderginski,

I got another job. I've been working there for four months. I'm surprised you didn't notice the change in my job performance. I thought I already quit, but I kept getting paychecks. Please continue sending the paychecks, but don't keep asking me about my progress on various cases.

Sincerely,

Ryan Medinski"