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It was a grand moment in cinematic history. A time where the actors’ portrayals transcended the suspension of disbelief gulf and became real. The world bathed in the truisms of such a grand and yet colloquial story, viewers seeing pieces …...

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Filed Under on December 29th, 2010

Dude, Where's My Car?

By Seth Kabala

It was a grand moment in cinematic history. A time where the actors’ portrayals transcended the suspension of disbelief gulf and became real. The world bathed in the truisms of such a grand and yet colloquial story, viewers seeing pieces of their own lives resonating in the reel.

Actually it wasn’t any of that. Well, maybe a little, if you had smoked as much weed as the characters in Dude, Where’s My Car.

I had a DWMC moment this morning (nothing to do with weed). I literally didn’t know where my car was.

I approached our front door, getting ready to leave the house for work, when I looked down at the curb through the curtain covering the glass in the door and didn’t see my car. I squinted and moved around, probably looking like I was trying out some Richard Simmons workout, but I still couldn’t see it.

I opened the door with trepidation, fearing that my $550 heap had been stolen, but came to my senses when it reappeared as soon as I wasn’t looking through the curtain, which had somehow performed a Criss Angel (eeew, chills, weirdness) trick on my ability to see the car through them.

After I got over the ridiculous feeling I had when I thought my nearing-300,000-miles car had been stolen (cops would have arrested, arraigned, incarcerated, and released the criminal in less time than it would take to start the thing, so not the best choice for getaway wheels), I remembered several other equally ridiculous situations generated when the injured party didn’t get all the facts before reacting.

Blaming your wife when the car keys (on belt loop), hat (on head), glasses (on face), life (on credit cards) go missing is a Smart thing, first name Maxwell. Get the picture?

So drink your green tea or coffee or whatever gets you going in the morning and make sure your eyes are actually open before you open your mouth. Shoe leather always tastes bad.

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Seth Kabala

About: Seth Kabala
Seth is an entrepreneur, writer, musician, family man, and juggler of balls--big ones. He lives with his wife and three children in Portland, OR.

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