Buckaroo and Bubble Wrap

So, I'd like to say that I spent my last duty-free weekend before the start of the new school semester solving the mysteries of life and all that rot, but, alas, I did not. What I actually did was watch a strange film and learn valuable information about myself as a driver.
To start, the film was called Buckaroo Banzai and the Eight Dimension. Right a way you can tell that this movie would never give Gone With The Wind or Dr. Strangelove a run for their money. Made in 1984, Buckaroo reflects its place in time by having its hero and his merry men dress as fashionably as Pee-Wee Herman with bow ties and pastels as well as having them take time out between delicate brain surgeries and testing jet engines to play in their wonderful eighties band that just brims with synthesized notes, the obligatory brass section, and a nine minute electric guitar solo. As bad as this film sounds, I loved it. It's hokey and filled with 80's visions of the good life and I could not keep this sappy grin off of my face. I even went to far as to download the movie's syth-theme song. Oy.
Lastly, I learned a valuable lesson about myself as a driver. All packages containing bubble wrap must be put in the trunk until the vehicle is no longer in operation. My attention is captivated by the stuff and nothing takes higher priority. Not even traffic.
I, not knowing of my addiction, had some of the wonderful popping wrap placed next to me in the passenger seat on a quick trip into town. I'm sure had there been passengers in the car with me, there'd have been screaming involved. My right hand kept creeping down and over to touch the darn bubble wrap. When I realized that it wasn't my car making the strange popping sound, I looked down to see what my hand was doing and had the car been stopped at the time, this would have been fine. I kept having to jerk my attention back from the wrap to the road. Finally, I chunked the stuff behind me to put it out of reach and allow me to reach my destination in one piece. I waited until I was home before I gave in to my need to pop the wrap.
There's nothing finer than bare-footed stomping on fresh bubble wrap. And that's what I did this weekend. Dude.