And then there was the time George W. Bush tried to talk to me at the carwash...

So Scott needed to borrow my car the other day to pick up one of the guest clinicians* and his wife from the airport for this band festival that the University is hosting this week, so I decided it would be decent of me to wash my car (while attempting to avoid the moonroof area, mind you, so as to not further aggravate the infamous leak situation...) as well as suck the living life out of the carpets with their super high-powered carwash vacuums (again, the infamous mold situation), so as to not send any elderly wind conducting legends to an early death via mold poisoning. That last ultra-run-on sentence contained the word "so" four times. I'm awesome. Anyway, no sooner had I popped the quarters into the car wash machine when I heard a man's voice from behind say to me, "Tennessee plates, huh? Well, you sure are a long way from home!" Then I turned around and saw this face speaking to me:

I swear to you. Obviously, the real "president" wasn't actually speaking to me at a random carwash in the outskirts of Seattle on a Saturday afternoon. But it sure as hell looked just like him. Except shorter. I hear the real Dubya is fairly tall. Anyway, it was bizarre. The whole time while the Bizarro Bush was making small talk with me, the only thing going through my mind was, "This is so going in my blog."

* For you band nerds, it's this guy.