Eve's Dropping...

Happy New Year wishes to everyone who reads this. Which is probably two of you out there, but hey, that's ok.

Really. This has been a major suck year, and frankly, I wash my hands of it. Not that an arbitrary day we have picked to mark the start of our calendar year has any major significance, but I'm hoping the new year does bring better fortunes my way.

As for resolutions, well, I noticed that any resolutions I've made in the past have failed miserably, mainly because I have little to no will power. So I made a new year's resolution never to make new year's resolutions again a few years ago. Which is going to fail still, since I'm making a resolution to quit smoking... at some point... in the near distant future... at least before I turn 30... cause its no longer cool to smoke when you're old... or older... er.

Ok. Let's have some basic goals here.

In the new year I would like to: write at least 12 songs of varying degrees of "decent" to "above average" in craft and lyrics. I've been working on some Star Trek related material, an idea I've had for some time now but never really sat down to do it. Compiling these songs onto an album would be a great bonus. (I'm a total dork, I know)

Write at least three short stories.

Figure out if I want to move somewhere new, and do it once the lease is up.

Take up some form of exercise on a somewhat regular basis.

Quit the smoking.

Drink less... Due to recent circumstances my intake has slightly increased. Slightly...

Write up a budget I can actually stick to, and stick to it.

Quit the video games, for good. I'm serious about this one.

um... that's all I got for now.

...

And tonight I shall go forth unto the Pub, and the The Bar. Mayhem will ensue. Daughters, lock up your mothers. Its going to be a long night. I'm feeling some very destructive tendencies, not really, I just would like to have a very fun night. Even though I consider the Eve to be amateur night.

And secretly I would like to kiss some strange girl at midnight. Just a kiss, nothing more... not yet ready for that... not even a makeout. Just a kiss. Sounds cheesy, I know.

...

To all: be safe, be smart, have fun, and don't get caught.

Merry New Year!

Santa died for our sins

I went home for the holidays. Usually my family tries to cram as much family fun activity into the brief time we spend together, but this year we all seemed to agree that chilling out and lazing around the house seemed a better idea.

I've probably taken more naps in the last three days than I have all year. Utterly delectable.

But oh my stomach. I simply cannot believe the shear amount of food that I gorged myself on while at home. Its like there's something in the air in my parent's house that just wrecks my sense of fulfillment. Must eat more. There's also quite an array of cookies, snacks, mixed nuts, plentiful dinners, and especially the Doritos, the sacred holy Doritos I can never justify buying for myself, that I destroy night after night. Can't stop eating that shit. So bad, yet so, so good. Not to mention whatever chips I do not finish seem to come home with me in the form of the generous bag o' food my mother gives me to take home.

Best Mom ever.

Though I still haven't quite got my system regulated from the worst, single dining experience of my life, our trip to a new buffet style restaurant that opened up in town.

I won't even mention the name of the establishment, as that would give them power. No. I dare not say it. I would like to suggest that having an open kitchen (that means there's no walls, so you can see inside the kitchen and see what the cooks are up to - never a good idea) is a very horrible idea.

Now, I'm no food service snob. I know my place in the culinary world, and its quite near the bottom. But I'm sanitary, and clean. Unlike the cook who wasn't wearing a hat, and then ran his fingers through his hair, and then wiped his nose on his finger, which he then wiped on his apron.
Or the guy who cut the roast beef and used his bare hands to deliver the slab o' meat onto my brother-in-law's plate. While I'm unclear if its mandatory, latex gloves should be used when handling any food product. At least that's how we do at my place of business.

Probably the thing that grossed me out more than that, if you can believe, was the clientele.
I know all-you-can-eat buffets mean exactly that, but that's not a challenge people. You will not win anything, except for maybe a premature heart attack.

I stuck with the steamed vegetables, and mostly deep fried fare. Yes, deep fried. Mainly cause those deep friers will, hopefully, kill most any kind of bacteria that may have been lurking around there.

I was too grossed out to even utilize the soft serve machine, of which I have fond memories.

...

Gift wise, I did receive some nice loot. Namely socks, underwear, and a new pair of shoes. These are really the only things I wanted. Oh, and a new wine bottle opener and a neat little device that seals up an already open bottle, as well as some wine glasses. Thank you family for recognizing my drinking problem. And encouraging it.

...

So now its back to work, back to my apartment, back to my life...

Its still a little odd, living in this apartment still. I sometimes find myself going through old motions like opening the basement door slowly with my leg in the way to guard against cats that no longer live here. Or crossing the kitchen to throw something out, and then realizing the garbage can is now on the other side. I then snap a little, a brief pause, and say, "oh yeah..."

But those moments are fading.

And slowly, awkwardly, I'm coming into my own again. Does it make sense to say that I haven't felt like myself for a very long time... (How am I not myself? How am I not myself? How am...) And that its coming back to me? I don't know. It doesn't quite make sense to me either, and I'm living with it...

Lots of thoughts now-a-days on what to do, where to go, what step to take next in life...

I feel like the life blood of this town is wearing thin, people leaving, more people having left...

I feel like that is the mantra I've been repeating in my head for the last month or so...

I feel like, I feel like I feel.

blah.

blah, blah.

blah.


...

Now I really need to set up some vacation plans. Depending on cheap flights, I'm aiming for end of January for a nice stint in the fair city of Austin. Make it so!

And the Award Goes To:

I think I've officially won The Golden Liver award for this week.

Two nights in a row of intense, unabashed, alcohol abuse in the form of a birthday celebration and Squid's homecoming for the holidays, both nights lasting exceedingly longer than they should have, at least the drinking portions of the evening.

I'm thoroughly out of commission today, and am having trouble figuring out why I'm even remotely contemplating going out again tonight, especially since I threw up this morning, and pretty much slept until four in the afternoon.

Anyway, here are some highlights:

• A friend's thirtieth birthday. We made him a card by cutting up an old biker magazine and pasting pictures and words and such. The best quotation, "Jesus got his start at thirty!"
• Receiving a Christmas present from S. and B., two t-shirts, one that reads, "Make it so, Number One" and the other simply says "Engage" both in Star Trek TNG font. I cried tears of pure, nerdly joy, and will not stop wearing them. I gave them my movie tickets, even though they expire in a week.
  
• Drinking La Roja Artisan Amber Ale, brewed by the fine folks from Jolly Pumpkin. Simply smashing beer. Find it, drink it.
• Chili cheese fries at four in the morning. Probably saved my life.
• Not making out with that drunk girl. Probably saved my life.
• Darts at the bar with Squid, our old pastime.
• Squid. Period.
  
• The term "massive fingering." Don't ask.
  

...


I'm now going to the hippy Co-op to get hippy healthy food. My liver and my body demands it.

Hangovers are so not worth it anymore.

...

Oh, I've also discovered a new obsession: Plastic Island.

read this.

Its terrible and devastating and will probably be the death of us all. More importantly, I wonder if I can walk around on it, or if plastic creatures will evolve there.

The Day That was Thursday

I received them as a Christmas bonus last year, the small gift the powers that be at the restaurant dole out every year as a gift. Four free tickets to the local movie theater in town.

Despite plans made, and broken, and remade and rebroken, somehow I never seemed to have found the wherewithal to actually go to the theater and use them. They expire in exactly eleven days, so I decided to treat myself to a picture show, this being my day off and all.

I don't mind going to the movies alone. I used to do it quite a bit. Though I was sad this time around that the movie was showing in the smaller theater, not the grand one with the pipe organ and the upper deck seating that I enjoy.

I saw I'm Not There, the Bob Dylan biography, which I found to be all right. Some of the story lines I found not as amusing as others, and I'm not really sure what connections were trying to be made with the little black boy guitarist. If the Pat Garret parts of the movie were somehow their own story, apart from it all, I would have liked them that much more.

...

I had intentions of giving away the remaining three tickets. I don't exactly see myself going to the theater three more times by myself before the new year, and I thought it would have been a kind, random gesture, to bestow upon some unsuspecting people some free tickets. But alas, there weren't too many people hanging outside the theater, so they are still in my wallet.

...

Apart from that, I spent my day off doing chores of various sorts.

Despite the two coffee makers we possess, I happily discovered my old coffee maker and coffee grinder to still be in residence at my old abode, which I've since rescued. I intended to give them away to an old roommate traveling south, but I guess he left them there, much to my chagrin.

I spent some time cleaning up the old appliances, and they are looking sharp. I also spent some time on some songs, of which I have two new ideas, one centering around the other two coffee makers, and one about the great leak of 2007. I also worked on my flask, a flask that I had stolen from a party probably three years ago, in a drunken haze, that night which still lives on in infamy with a couple friends of mine. The details are sordid, and perhaps one day will be revealed. But the flask itself, has become a Kamel Red sponsored flask, one I decorated from old boxes of the brand of cigarettes I still fondly think of, even though I smoke the cheaper, rolling tobacco kind, which one day soon I will be quit of. Hopefully.

I also cleaned my room, and did some dishes, and am now procrastinating taking out the trash, once again.

...


There are things to look forward to.

Like this weekend, specifically Saturday, my friend Squid shall arrive from Texas way, and we shall go to the bar and get mighty drunk, for that is the way of things. Both of us have been inundated with relationship strains, very similar, and very devastating, and will have much to discuss. And quite frankly, I miss her entirely so, and I will be overwhelmed to have her back in this town again...

I need to see my friends.

And now I look forward to sleep. And my dreams, which have been really odd lately.

That is where I'm a viking.

Winter Rains: Epilogue

All is quiet in the kitchen. Perhaps a little too quiet.

This is entirely ok.

A phone call confirmed that this episode has drawn to a close. The roof is supposedly fixed. The water on the floor has dried up. Our small collection of dishes have been thoroughly sanitized and cleaned. The microwave has reclaimed its rightful spot on the counter. We have begun to prepare our meals again on the counter top.

Sadly we lost one roll of paper towels that put up a miraculous, yet doomed, fight against the deluge. Nearly a full roll that sat directly under the first drips assault, that looked so sad and ultra absorbed, waterlogged to its cardboard heart. G. rung it out as if it were a real towel. Not to mention we lost a random deck of cards, my bag of coffee (newly purchased), coffee filters, and my box of Sleepy Time tea, which I'm sorry to see go.

Still, the damage could have been worse.

Landlord has been ultra apologetic, and very kind, offering us a reduction in our rent for this month, though G. and I are unsure as to what monetary value this whole affair amounts to. He left it up to us, and I immediately saw dollar signs flashing all around me.

We didn't technically lose that many material goods. Some cleanup time, some time spent watching in awe as water slowly tore our kitchen apart, and loss of the kitchen for a few days...

I'm thinking a hundred bucks off the rent seems reasonable enough. Though some people have suggested 150$, but I do actually like Landlord, despite his spacey demeanor. And we do have a good deal here...

...

Only a few more days of work, and then I am off for a brief respite at home for the holidays, of which I have mixed feelings about. Looking forward to getting out of town, and looking forward to seeing the family, but also not looking forward to it. I just kind of want to be done with the holiday season. To have nothing on the radar for a while.

Some days I just want to fall asleep until March, sleep for a good long while, and wake up to see sunlight again...

...

Tonight is my night off. Unlike the slew of dinner dates I had last week, this week has been quiet on the friend front. I'm tempted to go out tonight, but I'm feeling sort of lost about it.

It used to be that I could go out any random night of the week and find some sort of friend, or near-friend there at the bar... Now I'm not so sure. So many people have left this town lately... Dropping like flies... The sense of community has kind of dissolved, at least for me.

I also am having horrible, inexplicable, gas issues. Which, I guess at the bar I frequent in town here, is not exactly the worst smell one is likely to encounter...

I suppose I just don't have that desire anymore... It used to be so automatic, the "I need to go out" bug that afflicted me for a very long time. Just to go out and be out, alone in public, sitting at a bar... Maybe being in a relationship for so long has cured me of this. Maybe I'm not looking for something in the bar anymore...

eh.

Sorry, just kind of rambling.

I'll probably just settle for a glass of wine. Much, much cheaper than the bar.

Winter Rains, Part Two and Part Three

Part Two:

Utter agony. Upon my arrival to work, my day quickly went from bad to horrible, and all it took was my inventorying of our product. Suspiciously we had somehow run out of many a product, and considering that the day before was Sunday, a Sunday that included a great blizzard the night before, well, I was kinda in awe since we had little to no business.

Then I noticed that there were no product was dated from Sunday, meaning that my counterpart had called in sick to work, and that no one had covered his shift. That "no one" being my boss who was there on Sunday, who is technically responsible to do so in Counterpart's absence.

That meant double work for me! Yes!

So I spent the day in utter anger, which I'm not typically prone to do, though I did notice that anger makes the day go faster, and can be a little more fun than the typical self-analyzing I do on a daily basis, wondering how I ended up in this place of employment. Not to mention bemoaning the bad choices I've made in this trip called 'life,' but that typically occurs later in the evening, and involves alcohol of some sort.

...

A call from G. later in the day only made this day go from horrible, to even more horrible, when she told me that the leak had decided to spread from one set of cabinets, to flow through the cabinet above the sink, and down into the cabinet that holds our meager collection of dishes and cups, and onto the counter top on the other side of the kitchen sink.

Fast Forward to coming home, (since nothing remotely interesting happened with the rest of my day):

So, looking from left to right, we see numerous drips out of one cabinet into the bathroom garbage can that has since turned into a water collecting 'bucket,' which of course is just not wide enough to contain all said drips, leaving one drip on either side to drip freely as it may.

Then there's the cabinets above the sink that water is now flowing through. And of course, this being my cursed life, there is suspiciously NO drips of water actually dripping into the kitchen sink, which would have been extremely useful.

Then there's the dish cabinet, which is slowly dripping water along the entire length of it, into all of our bowls and pans and pots spread along the counter top in a row, filling with red, brackish roof water.

We simply stood and stared at this mess our kitchen has become, because really, that is all we can do. Stare in awe and wonderment. And then laugh, and stop laughing, and laugh some more.

Imagine 37 different drips, each one unique in pitch and octave, which could have been a strangely beautiful thing to behold, if it didn't mean the destruction of our kitchen, and that I would be going to sleep that night with a symphony of water torture going on all night long. That leaky faucet dripping that keeps you up all night multiplied by 37.

And of course my bedroom happens to be right next to the kitchen.

Luckily I turned the fan on medium, and made sure to drink an extra glass of wine to ensure I would pass out quickly enough, and I am pleased to say that it worked, and I slept soundly, except for those thoughts of water leaking into my bedroom, and on my bed, which thankfully did not turn into reality.

...

Part Three:


The man came into our kitchen to survey the damage this morning. While he was unable to ascertain the cause of the destruction, he did inform us of some interesting factoids about septic systems and the nature of old fuse boxes and fuses, which this old house uses.

I liked this man. He had a good-natured quality to him. Again, the leakage could not be stopped, but he did replace some fuses, and we now have two working outlets in our bedrooms, as opposed to only one.

The new problem, however, happens to be the one fuse that he knocked loose, which is still loose, which controls the power to the refrigerator, which I found to be shut off when I returned home from work.

Jiggling it around will get it to function, but the problem still remains, that it is still loose, which can turn my fridge off at any unsuspecting moment.

Sigh.

But as of this posting, the leak has stopped, the symphony is quiet and still, though we are unsure if anyone has actually fixed anything, i.e. the roof, or if it is merely the warmer night air. G. is currently cleaning up the mess, which I should be helping with, but instead I'm writing this. Sorry.

Unresponsive Landlord has become Very Apologetic Landlord, and this comforts me somewhat.

He means well.

I think.

...

Some day, and I hope that day comes soon, I hope I find myself asking myself, "what else can go right?"

Cause its been the other way around for sometime now.

But surprisingly, my spirits are holding. In fact, despite the anger of Monday, I'm actually in a really good mood right now.

Tune in tomorrow for Part Four, The Reckoning

Winter Rains

There was water all over the floor of our kitchen, water leaking from one of the cabinets, water all on the counter tops.

Not the best thing to wake up to at eight in the morning, the knock on my bedroom door, the "um, we have a problem."

Unresponsive Landlord is being unresponsive as usual.

So for now, I will go to work, and hope the bathroom garbage can will be enough to hold whatever water drips into it until I return home.

...

So waiting for this year to end.

I have declared 2007 to be "Official Year of Suck"

Ok. That is all.

I am a Snow Shoveling Machine!

Of all the things I tell myself on a somewhat regular basis, like the "living in a place with an actual, real, cold, winter makes me a stronger person," well, I've finally decided that that line is a huge, crock of crap. And anyone else that says it, well, you're a lying liar, and you know it.

I will admit that every winter there is about one or two kinds of snowfall that I actually, truly enjoy, that makes whatever is left of that dying sense of magical wonder in me pop back up in my chest and out of my throat as a gasp of, "my god, this is truly great."

The kind of snowfall with the large puffy flakes, that comes down in blankets, that covers everything around you, makes the air still, sounds muffled, almost totally silent, peaceful...

Last night was one of those snowfalls, and part of me is sad that it ended sometime this afternoon, even though it deposited probably a foot of snow over everything.

The rest of the snowfalls this season either just don't compare, or its the cold, bitter kind of snowfall... The ground just collects more of the stuff, and becomes black mush from the endless exhaust of automobiles. The days get colder, the nights colder still, and will go on in endless gray until sometime in April, when, just maybe, the weather will start to get warmer, and then inexplicably go away and come back in two weeks time and crush every one with another huge snow storm, until finally we are released...

But last night was the good kind of snowfall. And though I loved it, I'm officially done with the snow. If only there was one such kind of snowfall a year, and after it ended, so did winter, and that would be it for the year. That would be nice.

...

G. and I spent a good part of the morning shoveling, probably the most intense exercise I've gotten in quite a while. My arms are still weak from it.

Unfortunately My driveway has this ugly downward slope which happened to collect an extra foot or so of snow thanks to the snowplows that plowed the roads during the night.

But we chugged through it, thus created an even bigger mound that almost reaches up to mid-chest level on either side of the driveway. If I were a kid again I'd make an awesome snow fort out of it. Instead I just looked at it in awe, and said, "damn, someone, somewhere is probably having a heart attack right now."

Our reward for our shoveling good deed was to be able to get her car out of the driveway, and thus we were able to go buy groceries, specifically a case of three buck chuck from Trader Joe's.

Yes, a case. We like the red wine in our little house. Really cheap wine.

...

Some people also decided to go sledding this fine night, though I neglected to go due to said shoveling/physical exertion and the fact I don't own any heavy duty snow gear. Also due to some early childhood, traumatic sledding mishaps, specifically sledding into a half frozen river which soaked me through and through and I had to wait in the cold for half an hour for my mother to come pick me up.

so instead i reheated up the coffee I stole from work earlier, and worked on some song lyrics, which I've been toying with for a week now. Its a sad little number. But I'm reasonably happy with it.

...

At least the solstice is coming soon. And with it the darkest, longest night of the year. And then its all downhill from there, right?

On Making New Friends...

Open Letter to that drunk girl at the bar last night:

Dear Janessa, or Janelle, or Janette,

Um, don't quite remember your name exactly, but that's ok, because I'm pretty sure you won't quite be remembering my name as well. You seemed pretty drunk by all standards and accounts. I mean, you did walk up and fondle my friend's breasts in front of me, exclaiming how wonderful they looked. But hey, I'm not judging, I had a few myself, though I managed to keep my mental facilities about me. Well, ok, seven beers to be exact, but whose keeping count? I was in a shitty mood all day and pretty much forced myself to go out last night, if only for the fact it was the debut of my friend's (same as the above fondle-ee) new burlesque troop.

Yes. Burlesque troop, which, truth be told from what I could see, seemed pretty cool. I mean, any chance to see, or nearly see, boobs in a bar, well, that's totally cool with me. It was done with class, and was scripted well, and for the first time, they did all right. Though I did have quite a problem with all of the tall people that seemed to gather in the front, thus blocking a clear view of said show. Instead, I relied on a mirror on the far wall of the bar to watch the show, which obscured things somewhat. Why is it tall people insist on standing in the front? Anyway.

I'd like to thank you for gracing my presence as I finished my last beer of the evening. Why you chose me of all people to sit next to, I will never know. But I would like to appreciate the fact you pointed out all of the men at the bar that would have liked to have intercourse with you. I was wondering that same thing. Because personally, I found myself in quite the opposite position. No, no, not because of your looks, or the way you slurred your words when you spoke, or the fact you were spilling beer on yourself. Some men see that as a very heightened and potentially great situation in which to engage in courtship. I merely tried to explain that I simply was not interested in intercourse at the moment, thanks to recent events in my life.

I'd also like to thank you for telling me that I am adorable. A few times. But that we would never be able to have intercourse. Like I said, I already could see this as a fact, at least from my point of view. Apparently, your point of view happened to be that I was obviously a homosexual. Upon asking you why you thought I happened to be a homosexual, you said it was because of the way I happened to be sitting, with one of my legs directly over the knee of my other leg. I had no idea "the gays" had cornered the market on this style of sitting. Kudos to them. I had heard rumors, but thought nothing of it. Its just something I've done my whole life, because its just comfortable to me. I happen to like sitting that way.

Well, unfortunately your male roommate sat down shortly thereafter to "protect" you from me, Because obviously this mad, crazy homosexual me was obviously hitting on you. I decided at that point to make my exit, simply because I had finished my beer, and was excited to see the fire show in the alley outside the bar (yes, fire show. People twirling and breathing fire). I'm glad we shook hands a few times, and again you told me how adorable I was, for a gay.

In all seriousness, thank you. I really, honestly, had a blast talking with you. Somehow, it made the whole entire night worthwhile, in some odd, twisted way. Really. I left the bar all smiles, thinking about how odd our conversation was. Hopefully the next time I see you you will not remember me at all so that we can repeat the entire conversation, considering how blindly drunk you will most likely be.

Anyway, Thanks to you. Besides the jiggling burlesque boobies, and the fire show, you made my night.

Sincerely,
Your new friend,

Gaius J.

Sloth

I think of all the seven deadly sins, my personal favorite, or at least the one I embody the most, is Sloth.

For one, I just like the word itself. It just rolls off the tongue, slowly, of course. It also just seems to sound like what it means.

I, for one, have had a most wonderful Sloth-filled day, because on this, my day off, I pretty accomplished absolutely nothing, and am currently procrastinating taking out the trash and recycling.

...

For my part, I did actually accomplish one task: Ending my ongoing battle with the most extreme forces of evil, yes, Satan, otherwise known as C o m c a s t.

The final battle concluded this afternoon, while I lazed in my Sloth, and eagerly awaited their technician to arrive at my abode sometime between the hours of 12:30 and 2:30, to pick up the dreaded cable box, that has lain dormant on the book shelf for a couple weeks now.

I've never been one to do much cable watching, except for about twice a year, usually when I go home to visit the parents who have quite an extensive cable set-up, not to mention a gianormous television upon which to watch it.

In fact, I do actually like to watch certain shows. Namely shows like Mega Disasters, which outlines all of the ways human civilization could possible end, or How its Made, or Rob and Big... What kills me most about the cable, despite the long hours spent watching moving after movie, wondering if just maybe, the next show will be cool and worth watching, is advertising.

Commercials. Endless barrage after barrage of snippet upon snippet of advertising. They literally drive me insane. They literally fill up space in my memory, in my brain, that at some point in my life could have been converted to something more useful like.

Thankfully the new roommate did not require this form of entertainment.

Sigh. Nothing spells the end of a relationship like canceling the cable...

The deed is done. Now, I'm pondering the magical delivery service known as Netflix. I can watch whatever shows I want at my leisure, all the episodes at once, and with no commercials. Plus, my Sloth needs can still be met, hence the fact these DVDs will come to me.

I'm just too lazy to sign up for it, yet.

...

And my string of food with friends continues, as a friend dropped by out of the blue to take me to lunch this afternoon. That's like four for four. Mayhaps I will just make a career out of this, going out to dine with people on a regular basis. Become a conversationalist. "My dinner with Gaius."

At least I did leave the house today.

This One is For the Homies

I stood at the corner of the pool table, cue in hand, watching as he took aim for his shot. I was thinking to myself how crazy it would be if, somehow, the cue ball were to jump off the table and come toward me, and if I'd have the necessary reflexes to catch such a wild shot.

Apparently, I do not possess such reflexes, despite my random day dreams of suddenly knowing martial arts, and being able to use such martial arts in case the bad guys decide to attack me at some point in my mundane day.

Instead, the ball careened wildly off the table, and flew directly into a knuckle on my right hand, which actually hurt quite a bit at the time.

I responded with, "don't you know how important my right hand is to me right now?" while I bowed over in pain, rubbing my hand furiously.

We laughed for a good while, despite my pain.

I suppose standing next to the pocket that one's friend is aiming for is typically never a good idea, especially when that friend has a powerful shot.

...

I've been going to the bar quite often these last two weeks... I suppose that's what one does upon finding themselves single again, or at least what this guy does, or perhaps used to do on a regular basis, before finding himself in a relationship.

Though, I've definitely toned things down.

I find myself going out around 7 or 8, not the obligatory after 10:30 at night. And now I find myself having some sort of dinner alongside the couple of pints I will ingest, not the stale-ass popcorn and numerous, upon numerous drinks I used to consume. I will now leave before 10:30, slowly becoming one of the people I tended to scoff at in my younger days.

I'm also beginning to understand the value of happy hour specials, having made a conscious decision to limit my spending on such things as booze. Considering how little I make from my job, and the vast amount of dollars I've spent on booze in my past, well, better late than never I suppose. I try not to think about it, honestly.

Sometimes I think bars should have an "Angry" hour special, probably at some point later in the evening, when people's chances for meeting someone have slimmed to nothingness, or perhaps when people realize they must go off to bed soon, and thus face the new day...

Just a thought.

...

While I've enjoyed the last two nights of going out considerably, having gone out with old friends that I used to drink quite heavily with back in the day, I've left each time feeling optimistic, yet slightly saddened each time.

I feel good about bonding with these old friends, spending time with them again, feeling the man-love so to speak. Remembering old glories of our drinking days, stories of the crazy nights and our crazy antics we seem to tell and retell over and over again.

I got sad though, as I walked home. One of them is engaged to be married; the other having just gotten married over a month or two ago...

Its not that I'm unhappy for myself, having things go the way they did. Perhaps, to be honest, slightly yes. At one point we were sort of all in this together, each of us moving towards the fateful day, each of us nearly at the same time, finally getting married... More so it is just that things have changed, things are changing still, each of us has changed, priorities are shifting, soon, so soon we will drift apart further. Soon there will be no new stories to create, or at least, I will not be a part of them, as they start their new married lives.

I'm sorry, I'm woolgathering.

A slight pity party, as my friend C. would say. "Don't invite me."

I'm grateful for them, to have them in my life still. And I'm happy for them, that they've found that happiness in someone else. Sometimes I just miss having the old crew around. I couldn't have gotten through some of the harder times in my life without them.

To Sc. when a six pack of Miller High Life and a game of darts, listening to old cock rock records in his basement which suddenly we took seriously (Boston, ACDC, Journey, Loverboy), or nights out to Club Foot to play pool meant the world to me, saved us during that year in Chicago.

To S. when night after night we'd go to The Bar, complain about the ladies, drink way too much, and talk about how after our deaths we'd have our bodies cast in bronze and would have them place our statues at the same booth we'd sit in night after night. Or nights on his porch, hitting the heavy bag, or just yelling at passerby's, or all the crazy shit we'd do...


I'm glad their still around these parts to check up on me, though I don't get to see them that often.

All right, feeling too emotional, gotta stop writing now...

Cholesteroholic

The test results are in:

I'll admit I was quite hesitant to open the letter, my inner-hypochondriac suddenly emerging. The numbers were listed in a row, with check boxes along side them, the two categories reading: "Normal," and "Abnormal," with none of the boxes checked, which really made me worry for a second.

Great, I thought. I'm off the charts.

But after a quick check of some medical websites that the hypochondriac in me should definitely not be checking out on a daily basis, I figured that my cholesterol level is actually, surprisingly, amazingly, ok.

I was kinda figuring I'd get the "uh, technically you shouldn't be alive right now," call, which thankfully I did not receive.

My diet and habits are not exactly what I'd call healthy.

So I celebrated my good cholesterol levels and general health by going to the bar to chain smoke, drink four beers and eat a massive mound of potato skins covered in cheese and bacon dipped into some kind of white sauce made mostly of sour cream and probably something else really bad for you.

I'm not too worried. I definitely need to bulk up for the winter, my winter coat if you will. I'm still rail thin from all the stress of the last few months...

Of Songs, New and Old...

The new strings shine with a wild brilliance, reflecting the light from my little desk lamp. I'm impressed with the tones, the brass aftertaste, metallic and raw, and new... though I do not possess the wire cutters needed to trim the excess at the top, so after the last note I play, they wave and bob and resonate with metallic echoes. They also are not exactly keeping in tune, though this will pass. I did manage to purchase a sleek, black, little guitar tuner, a little gift to myself, as I try to fill my time with more creative endeavors.

I haven't picked up the guitar for what seems like months, a lot of months to be honest. Many, upon many moons...

My voice, ugh! The last time I can remember attempting to sing for anyone, was for myself, a month or so ago. I had borrowed her car to go to the store, and had brought some cd's along, and I found myself pumping the volume, and singing as loud I could. My voice cracked, and groaned, though I pushed on anyway, feeling somehow empowered while driving the machine to the Mejier. I did not care if I was "that guy" in his automobile, singing at the top of his lungs. In fact, I always rather enjoy spying people doing whatever it is that they do while they command their machines along the road.

...


Before that, we used to sing at The Bar most every Monday night. Karaoke Mondays, which back in the hey day, shortly before I moved to Chicago five years ago, was the biggest and best bar night in town. My "last" karaoke night in town was perhaps one of the biggest events of that year, well, at least for me, as people actually lifted me and a friend up over their shoulders and paraded us through the bar. Supposedly, I slurred my way through "My Way" very poorly, and later that evening somehow made out with a bonafide lesbian. Though, as I was prone to at the time, remember none of these events, mainly because I drank entirely too much that night.

I'd like to think that due to my moving away, the peoples lost interest, though this was the case, but not exactly due to my leaving. After moving back to this town, I found the karaoke had gone through some changes, changes in management, equipment and patronage. I was glad to see that the drink specials remained roughly the same, price-wise. But still, it was not enough.

Even before the machine broke thus rendering most songs unreadable, and then broke entirely, thus canceling Karaoke for the rest of time eternal, we had found ourselves going less and less. The song selection also left something to be desired, namely more songs to sing than the standard weekly rotation most of us regulars had. Other people just decided to stop going around the same time. Suddenly we would find ourselves in a nearly empty bar, singing only to each other. That was not enough to keep us entertained anymore, even though we used to hope for that kind of access.

Funny thought: Why is it people get so pissed when you happen to sing "their" song. One lady would always get pissed at me when I sang "Just What I Needed," by the Cars. "That's my song, asshole!" Like, wow, I had no idea you wrote that. Why do people express ownership of these songs? I'd like to think I'm just borrowing it for the evening. Not to mention, there's quite a few other songs out there. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only person who thought of singing this tune before. I just happened to turn it in before you, no one else picked it, and I did have some favor with the Karaoke MC, because I happen to attend this event regularly. And, its a kick ass song, but I digress.

...

I started to play the old songs, all of the covers I know, my old quest to become the first Mountain Goats tribute band. After some digging around in my brain, I found most of them still there, partially intact, and after some stuttering, stopping and starting, I squeaked out a few of them.

My callouses are gone, however, and the pads of my fingers are somewhat in pain at the moment.

But its a familiar sting, one I recall with great pride, when I first found myself playing guitar as an awkward teenager, and discovered that the tips of my fingers were growing excess skin in order to facilitate my new hobby.

(um, rereading that line I just typed, well, kinda could be construed as something else, but never mind that.)

...

And the bombs keep dropping.

Phone call from a friend down south, things are not well, her relationship... kaboom! Very similar situations to my recent adventures...

sigh.

I'm going to attempt to a write a song for her, for today. That is my goal.

If my fingers will allow me to form the chords, if my voice can produce the tones, if my brain can formulate the words.

Lifting Spirts and Libations

I woke up with a devastating hang over today, the likes of which I have not experienced in quite some time. Though it was for a good cause. An impromptu celebration of my new roommate and I's cohabitation situation.

Somehow our small, merry gathering managed to lay waste to five and half bottles of wine, four cans of Guinness and two lowly cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Oh my aching head.

Our theme for the night was "We're 29 and we've accomplished nothing in life," in honor of our birthdays, just a day apart, an odd little coincidence.

I received perhaps the best birthday card I have gotten to date, even better then the two same exact cards my grandmother (bless her) sent me two years in a row.

A sticker that read, "My Ass Corn" on the front, and inside the card, one small, brown kernel of corn, stuck to the paper with brown paint. Sick, yes. Totally awesome, Yes. Oh, and a small handwritten "happy birthday" in the corner. Thank you S and B.

...

Things are shaping up.

First things first, an apology to T-go: I know I promised to send you that tube of German theater production posters you left in my possession oh so long ago when you moved to New York, and actually re-promised to send them upon your visit here back in September, but it might take a little while longer to return them to you.

Since the exodus, things were looking pretty sparse around here. The bare walls would just not do, especially with company coming over, so I hung most of them up around the place.

I particularly like the one of the red guy on a red horse, and the one of someone's legs underneath a kitchen table with one shoe on, and one shoe slightly off of her foot. Something about that poster that just speaks volumes to me.

but, uh, sorry. You will get them back one day, I re-re-promise.

...

But yes, things are shaping up...

I laughed today at work. A real, genuine laugh, a hearty guffaw, more than a chuckle... it kind of surprised me. I also talked to some coworkers I hadn't really talked to before. And I smiled at a customer, which really surprised me. I don't deal with customers very well. That's why they keep me in the basement.

But yes, things are returning to me, feelings, sensations. I actually thought about memories from my past, ones that made me happy, and I laughed to myself about them as I went about my day.

I've been stuck in this anxiety feedback loop for a little while now, constantly fretting about the future, and what I'm going to do with my life from this point forward. Not a fun place to be, stuck in my head.

But enough about that.

Today was a good day, despite my terrible hang over. That is all.

And tomorrow shall be better. It is my day off. Joy. After last night's debauchery, I shall power lounge tonight, and it shall continue well into tomorrow afternoon.

Things are shaping up.

On This Day...

Gaius Jozka is pleased to announce that today, the big day he's been eagerly waiting for and anticipating with much dread at the same time, has finally arrived.

Yes, it is in fact this.

Go out and celebrate Ninja style, my bitches.

...

Also, on this historic day, Prohibition was repealed oh so long ago.

We shall be celebrating that fact as well.

...

And yes, today is my 29th birthday.

Sound the trumpets.

Raise the banners.

Let us all sing calmly, the songs in our hearts.

"Waiting for the front door to splinter... waiting all winter..."

The knock on the door startled me from my Sunday breakfast: one raspberry sour cream muffin, one small coffee, and one clementine. As I opened the door, a hand holding one bottle of Charles Shaw Cabernet (Three Buck Chuck, thank you Trader Joe's for understanding my fondness for cheap wine) floated in seemingly out of nowhere.


Such a fine offering, one I gladly accepted, from my new roommate.


We cracked that bottle open, and using two of the four available glasses left in the cupboard, poured ourselves a Sunday afternoon treat as we set about the business of planning our new living arrangement.

...


As per my request, I kept the little room in the back.

What once was referred to as the Man-room, has become my room.

While G went about the business of bringing her things in, I sat on my bed trying to visualize a new arrangement, and I'll admit I sat there a good while, completely dumbfounded.

It wasn't the spatial properties, nor the lack of usable outlets, nor the odd corner closest that juts out, which is fairly small to be of any real use for storage.

It was the fact that this room was mine, completely mine, and mine alone.

It took me a while to realize I didn't need to consult anyone else for decorating, get the ok to put that there, that these were my decisions...

Its a slow awakening.

Finding myself beholden only to me.

...

Cruel winter. Its absolutely freezing out, and the wind has just blown my front door open, which kinda spooked me. I peeked outside, half expecting a shadowy form lurking there, but no one was there. Just the freezing blast of arctic air.

And though it may be cold, I don't think anything can come between me and my love of tacos. The Pub may be far, but hunger drives me ever onward.

...

And thank you to the Mountain Goats, for the aptly named/themed "Get Lonely" album. Very few strings holding this guy together. It is one of them. Though, I suppose, I probably should be listening to something a little more uplifting. Any one got any suggestions for a decent post-engagement/relationship album to get lost in? Would be appreciated.

...

I'm sitting on a pillow, on the hardwood floor, having just eaten some Indian food out of the to-go container it came in, simply because at the moment I do not possess a plate nor a dish to eat off of. They did not include any plastic ware, nor napkins for that matter, but you left a box of plastic forks in the drawer, which I am using.

The apartment echoes now. Sound bounces off the bare, empty walls. The thumping of my married, upstairs neighbors is louder than usual. I can almost make out their words. I'm waiting for the nightly furniture rearranging, at least that's what it sounds like, to begin. What do they do up there? Carmen, their little dog, scampers up and down the stairs, which are directly above the bedroom.

I'm half expecting one of the kittens to jump on me at any moment, as I sit here typing, but then I remember that that will not be the case anymore. I will not be awakened at 7:15 in the morning to the cries of the kittens. I will not have to clean their litter box. You toted them away this evening, along with the rest of your belongings, except for a few miscellaneous knick-knacks which I am preparing to put in a box.

This moment is so surreal.

The first major snowstorm of the season is currently, yet gently, falling outside. The snow has partially turned to sleet, or freezing rain, (what is the difference?) and is tinkling against the windows.

The heat kicks in, seemingly so much louder, fuller, and it comforts me. For some reason the sound of the heat always lulls me into a sense of calm.

...

I'm not sorry if you are reading this. I'm not saying you shouldn't, I cannot stop you, but know I'm going to write what I wish, it is my blog. And that I'm not trying to pump this up emotionally, make you feel bad, or to make anyone else reading this feel sympathy about this situation. I'm simply trying to record it, the way it is, the way it feels right now.

Its a mixed bag, my emotional state. Part relief, part sorrow, partly unknown, parlty something entirely new... I'm not sure how to process it all. I've never been engaged, and then not engaged, nor living with someone in a relationship, and then not living together.

Tonight, I will lay down to sleep entirely alone for the first time in a long time.

...

We have decided to part ways, that marriage would not be in both of our best interests, and today, you have moved out.

This decision was mutual, and I must applaud us both for being civil and respectful of each other over the last few weeks.

It was the right decision, though hard to make, and harder to go through, but this night is here.

...

All is not lost.

I've had so much anxiety over the past month, the likes of which I've never felt. But man, what a trip. Do not want to go through that again.

Things will progress. And to quote Spock in Star Trek VI, "The universe will unfold, as it should."

Tomorrow, a new roommate will move in.

Matters of the ring are being taken care of, by the grace of god.

And I'm looking forward to figuring some stuff out, like what my next step in life is going to be.

Not to mention my birthday falls on this Wednesday.

Things are falling into place. Slowly, but surely. Things are going to be ok.

...

Minivanity, or Perhaps More Mumblings on Age and Such

Minivan.

They bought another minivan. This fact brought great joy to me, that in their retirement age, they bought another minivan.

In made sense while growing up, especially when i left for college. Having had two older siblings go before me, they knew the moving process. I just happened to stay somewhere in that college-esqe lifestyle, pretty much having had to move to a new apartment, even a new state, year after year throughout most of my twenties. They helped me move quite a bit.

but now?

still, its a sweet van though, dude.

(never thought i'd ever utter that sentence in my lifetime)

The side door opens by itself, at the touch of a button. I feel like I possess the Force when i touch the handle, and the door just auotmatically glides open. Not to mention heated seats, control panels for climate control in the back, plush interior, and at least fifteen cup holders. We know, because my sister and i counted them over the holiday.

Oh ye technology.

Its just that they've contemplated getting some sort of "regular" car for the longest time, and time and time again, its a new van. At least four by my count.

but really dude, its a sweet van.

...

They took me to a new Thai place, at my request, as this dinner was to be a celebratory dinner, the celebration of my birthday, though it really is a week away.

I'm always grumpy around my birthday, no matter what, though this year, things are a little heavier than usual in my life, so honestly i haven't paid it much thought.

Though, when i do think about it, i suppose i get a little angsty.

As a friend put it, "who thought that when she was 29 it would all make sense and she would stop acting like she was 17." (in regards to life and relationships)...

In some ways that's so true. I've come so far, but at times, feel I haven't aged a day. Some things i've truly learned, yet, with other things i just fall back into, over and over...

Ok. I lied.

I have been thinking about my age very much this past week.

Too much, in fact.

I digress...

I opened the birthday card i the restaurant, though i asked first if that was ok, only because the card had a strange bump in the middle.

It read, "a long, long time ago..." on the front, and as I opened it, the Star Wars theme blared out from within, and finished with "...you were born."

And I sometimes wonder why I'm attracted to sci-fi and dorkness so much.

They told me stories of job hunting, of the trials and tribulations they went through after move after move, of the hard process, the denials, and sometimes the random luck that brought steady employment their way.

I appreciated it. As i grow older, the more human my parents have become. And I realize all of the hardships and mistakes they made in their past, the choices they chose, though to me, I was just a kid, had no idea what they were going through. To me, it was just another move to another state, new friends, new schools, new locations.

I don't know what i'm mulling over right now. I suppose every year older i get, i feel as if i'm supposed to feel a certain way, now that I've attained this new age, though it always seems looking back on it, I don't seem to know exactly why i felt that way, and that it feels so different upon reflection. Like, "what was I thinking all that for, 27 really wasn't all that bad."

Maybe i just say this every year, about every birthday. Maybe its the current situation. Maybe its the proximity to 30.

In a way i'm glad to be getting done with my twenties. A coworker once told me how he would never, ever, if given the chance, ever repeat and relive his twenties. "What a train wreck that was."

For some reason it just feels as though at thirty, the pressure's off. I'm no longer hip, young and cool. I'm aged.

Sigh. I'll stop.

...

Tomorrow, I go to the Dentist, Dr. T as I call him. Getting two fillings repaired. Ugh.

Historically, i've never done well with the dentist. Root canals are not fun, especially when you go to the local college school of dentistry to save a buck, and "magically" the novacaine doesn't work, and they go through with the drilling anyway. And then you decline the pain meds, because you were straight-edge at the time (sort of).

Friday, i go to the doctor. Kinda nervous about that one. Haven't been in a long time.

If there is one positive about my job now, is that they do offer medical benefits. You'd be hard pressed to find health insurance in the food service industry.

Home, and Finding a New Home

As I stepped through the door, the familiar smells greeted me, the smell of home. Though it was nearing two in the morning, my parents had stayed up to welcome us. Even more welcoming was my mother's chili, still warm in a pot on the stove, of which i ate two bowls.

My sister and her husband had picked me up along their way from Chicago. Being the day before Thanksgiving, traffic in the city was entirely crazy, and to travel 56 miles took them three hours.

We stayed up a little longer, watching my parents' extensive cable, chit-chatting about the little things, how work was going, etc... Though i could tell they were walking on egg shells around me, and did so for most of the time I spent at home.

Somehow the watching of a B movie, which typically contains lots of crass humor and many, upon many, nude scenes of ladies, has become a family tradition. Last year at Christmas my father made us watch Duece Bigalow 2, yes, the sequel. This year it happened to be the fine holiday film, Beerfest. Oh the things to be thankful for. Other holiday favorites include, Invasion of the Bee Women, Little Otek, and the entire video tape of my performance in the high school musical Grease, in which i had no leading role whatsoever. I fear what Christmas will bring this year.

Though the family rarely gets together in full for Thanksgiving, we were absent one member of the family, my brother who is currently living in Taiwan, studying Chinese. So we took one of his high school photographs my mother has placed around the house, and created a photo montage of his picture as if the picture were him.

Snap shots of a plate of food set before his picture. His picture in bed with a pantless Spock doll my mother found at a rummage sale. His picture watching TV on the couch. With old, stuffed animals left in our closests from childhood. In the old Chi-Chi's sombrero that one of my siblings recieved at a birthday dinner.

My sister plans to send them to him.

But it was so nice to be home. To take a break from the complications that have arisen. The changes taking place in my life...

...

Part of me greatly wishes to just be done with the next month. If i could sleep through it, and somehow wake up with this all behind me, it would be a great blessing. Or just push the fast forward button. But lately it seems that my life has been in some sort of fast forward already...

I've worked in the same place for four years. Somehow four years have just seemed to go by in the blink of an eye, and i'm left here, with my jaw open, thinking, "wow, where did it all go?"
What have I been doing?

It has kind of scared me.

Not that age really signifies anything. It really is just a number, a way of marking time, a point of reference. And though i'm still on the, uh, good side of 30, it really is moving in fast... i can't help, though, that i should have accomplished something more, should have been working towards some goal in life, beyond the daily contentment i used to have in doing my work, and going home to just live my life.

What more do i want? I'm not so sure anymore. Not sure that i've ever really known my calling in life. I've never really had much ambition. I haven't really had a major goal to acheive, beyond survival.

All of these thoughts...

I just can't seem to figure out what i want to be when i grow up.

Still.

...

There's much more i want to write about, but things are just a little too complicated right now.

Know then, that i am ok. That this last month has probably been the most intense time of my life, (beyond my Chicago year, if one can believe that), and that things are working out for the best.

That is all i can muster about the current situation.

Moles

The full moon blanketed everything with a soft, eerie glow, casting odd shadows, as I walked over to your house to make sure you weren't dead.

A concerned co-worker asked me earlier today to check up on you. You hadn't been to work in a few days and people were talking the talk, the kind of talk that grows louder the more it is whispered in the rumor mill. (I heard he's on the hard stuff..., girlfriend left him..., calling in sick quite a bit...)

I worried about it myself, knowing some of your past exploits, knowing you've done some bad things. The text I sent to you left unanswered, well, that wasn't a great sign either.

Walking up to your door, my mind raced with visions of how I'd find you, your dog whimpering behind a locked door, the lights out, perhaps the front door open, I'd creep in in the dark, seeing only the bathroom light on, the door ajar, a pool of blood...

The front door was open. The lights on. Rocks happy to see me, front paws on the screen door. I knocked timidly, and then louder, and you appeared looking extremely thin, but alive and my heart dropped its weight.

A short visit, some tea I stole from work (technically its free per shift, and I did work earlier in the day) chatting about this and that, nothing too serious, but serious enough, old friends that have moved on to other places and adventures...

Thank goodness.

sigh.

...

Maybe it is the heat of hospitals, that swarthy kind of stuffy heat that makes me uncomfortable. The tiny, rythmic squeak of shoes on the newly waxed floors. Patients hobbling slowly on walkers and hand rails.

I greatly respect hospital professionals of all kinds for this. For doing what they do because of suffering, handling it, easing it, being absorbed in it all day.

I sort of surprised you, well, Dad first, sitting by your side probably all of the day since you going into recovery. For some reason the two of you will probably never own a cell phone. I'm ok with that, as I greatly resisted it for as long as I could. But they do make planning things like this a little easier, but that's ok. I wanted to visit as soon as I could.

So many machines... A tube slowly draining a liquid resembling melted strawberry jello. Monitors, and numbers, lines and bleeps. Saline drips, a box gurgling blue liquid, wires.

You still kept your humor, claiming they were giving you all the good drugs...

We sat there in the chairs, Dad and I talking quietly while you nodded in and out. Probably one of the most clearest, heartfelt, man-to-man talks we've ever had. Nurses and orderlies made their rounds, moments of silence, more bleeps.

Things went well, for all intents and purposes, though I don't know all of the specifics.
Won't know for another two weeks... But you are doing better.

sigh.

...

Heavy day...

David Bowie ChaChaChaChanges

I sent out my first resume today.

Well, technically my second, though my first application attempt met with disaster, mainly due to the fact that I never really ever wrote a resume before this August. And I sent it to a somewhat large internet giant corporation that recently opened offices in my little town, that I did not really expect to hear back from. Not that I don't think I deserve to work there, but I probably wouldn't have hired me either, looking at that rubbish.

That's one of the easy things about food service. No resumes, no cover letters, refrences, yes, but still...

Not that I don't enjoy cooking. As an adult I get to make messes, play with knives, start fires, and produce something tangible with my hands. I feel a vague sense of worth at the end of the day, knowing I've created something...

But after six years...

I'm ready to do more.

Though I've been struggling, putting things off, just as I have for a very long time. Its hard to inspire myself to make major changes in my life. But they are needed. I've been driving the Lady crazy, and probably myself too, my stubbornness, my moodiness, just how depressed I've been in my past.

...

I've changed drastically in the last two months, so much so my system hasn't been able to process most of them.

I wake up around 8 am. I'm currently, (with the kittens' help) trying to push that back to 7. Well, maybe 7:32. I drink maybe once a week. I haven't played video games in probably two weeks, and I don't think I will for a while. I read before I go to bed, and I usually drink a spot o' tea before so. I attempted to write a short story the other morning. I go for walks in the early evening. The weather has been unseasonably, perfectly golden for this late in October. I explore neighborhoods that I have never seen before. I found a park near the house, with a little bench to sit on, underneath three magnificently red-leaved maple trees, hues of red I didn't think existed. (my thoughtful place, as Pooh would have it.) I started up blogging again, trying to maintain contact with old friends i've neglected along the way. I went to the dentist, the first time in literally 8 years.

Though I still have a ways to go.

...

Wish me luck in the job hunt. This state is in major recession.

Wars Not Make One Great

i'm currently at war with one of our dishwashers, though its more of a cold war, undeclared, and i'm pretty sure he is not aware we are engaging in battle whenever he puts on his ipod.

i do not possess an ipod, nor do i really want one. For the last year i've labored (a labor of love) at my job, we've depended on good old fashion cd's, and innumerable stereo's and cd players we've sent to an early grave through continuous use. And for the longest time we've managed to maintain a civil relationship; this new-fangled technology threatens our delicate balance of rotation. Once the cd is done, the next person puts on their music of choice. Everyone gets a turn. Though we may not all agree on said choice of music, the balance is there. This balance is sacred.

Until White-e puts on his ipod, and a two hour playlist of the finest hip-hop and R&B classics he can muster.

(i call him White-e due to his being white, yet blatantly co-opting black culture and speech mannerisms)

Don't get me wrong, i do not dislike hip-hop. i fear that my hip-hop tastes are somewhat behind the times, about ten years by my count. i recently asked White-e to burn me a copy of a Busta Rhymes album circa 1997, much to his surprise.

Its about the balance. Our sacred balance.

So lately i've been picking some of the albums that i like that i know he will probably despise. Maybe an album or two that i'm not even sure i like, just to watch him squirm, like said Busta Rhymes album, just because i'm sure its 'old school' to him.

So for our battle today i launched a massive salvo of the When-Bob-Dylan-Found-Religion album, thinking he'll surely hate that.

But no. He trumped me by immediately asking 'who dat is?' a sign that i piqued his interest.
Then he counter-struck with a fierce barrage of Nina Simone.

Foiled.

i need to gather some more ammo, though luckily we don't work together for a while.

...

i made the call to the parents tonight, something i don't do very often, or shall we say, often enough.

i once had a dream about this subject, in which while standing on a very strange porch, the Lady berated me saying, "You don't call your parents enough, you're a bad son."

i'll admit, i'm fairly lax about it.

Though tonight the call did not bode well.

It seems the c-word strikes again.

Though not as serious as her first bout, i just wish it would leave my mother alone. She's been through enough already. Seriously.

...

Which reminds me, i gots to quit smoking.

P's and Q's And Climate Change

Is it just me, or is everyone i know on some kind of twisted wavelength, being tweaked like a spring, going through some kind of emotional, life-changing, pent up, beaten up, pressure-cooked change of some kind...?

Mayhaps its the 90 degree weather in this state, all week long, in October. For real. As i sweated in the kitchen (that has no, i repeat, no ventilation) i kept thinking in my delirious state, "God, i can't wait for the summer to end." Upon going outside for the umpteenth smoke break ( i take a few too many, then again, i don't really get a legitimate (according to labor laws) break, nor would i take one), i realized that it was, in fact, technically the start of the second week of October, which in these parts should be quite nasty, rainy, and cold. I have heard coworkers complaining that its too hot, which bothers me, simply cuz in about a months time they will be complaining that it is, in fact, simply, too cold. Much like when people step out of the freezer they say, "Golly gee, its cold in there."

No shit.

Get over it.

But really, people are tweaking lately. Real bad. And I am one of them.

...

An old friend walked me home from the bar. Both of us fairly buzzed thanks to A local Brew Company that has some quite stiff pints. i only had three, which is more than enough really. But still, even though this length of time has passed (i haven't seen him in months) it just felt like no time had passed, and his main problems were just like mine.

I'm so glad for friends like these.

Like that album that upon the first few listens didn't really quite do it, but after picking it up after a few months, it suddenly saves your soul...

To Crush My Enemies... (What is Best in Life)

Rough day... rough, rough day.

Had a little anxiety attack.

Quite a bit o' money worrying that has got to stop.

i mean, its good i'm actually paying attention to this stuff.

i just wish i had thought to do this earlier in my lifetime.

and though i'm loathe to do it, i'm looking into credit cards, smartly i might add.

been researching it pretty much all day.

Ruthless!

Satan cuts better deals than this.

Adding money to my list of mortal enemies.

...

i'm watching this show, Modern Marvels, all about the making and history of athletic instruments, i.e. Balls used in any major sport that uses balls.

Amazingly entertaining, surprising and informative. i'll be thinking twice before giving a new tennis ball to a dog. A lot of work go into those things. And the childish sense of humor i sometimes exhibit. Giggling everytime they say Balls. They use the word every other minute.

More Than a Feeling Forever!

Due to a certain someone's contest announcement, i've decided to do a little research on my fair state.

I found that my state's motto is actually, "if you seek a pleasant peninsula, look around you." Which truth be told, is a pretty lame motto. I mean, are these really words to live by, our solemn vows?

Don't get me wrong, i enjoy me a good peninsula. Shee-iiittt!, i love me some peninsula. But that's not exactly what inspired me to move here. And trust me, i've looked around me, but i haven't seen any good peninsulas around this town.

...

My state's slogan is actually "Water Wonderland" due to the fact that Minnesota already has claims to the slogan of "Land of 10,000 lakes." Which is odd because Minnesota actually has about 15,000 inland lakes, whereas we only have about 11,000 (and counting) lakes in Michigan.

Goddamn Minnesotans. Liars all of you.

Again, i have to say "Water Wonderland" is equally lame. And not much of a slogan to boot.

...

Ever notice how whatever state in the union you live in, there's always another state that is your state's sworn enemy and mortal arch-nemesis. Like, Illinois Vs. Wisconsin. Michigan Vs. Ohio. Where did these hatreds begin? Why do we perpetuate them? And i hope its not simply sports related. I want violent histories of revenge and blood-lust. Wrongs being righted. Blood having blood having blood. Wergild.

...

If my early memories of growing up in the Chicago suburbs serve me right, "Yes! Michigan! The Feeling's Forever," was merely an ad campaign to lure unsuspecting peoples over here for tourism or other such nonsense. I remember the commercials. (I always remember the commercials. How much of my brain capacity is strictly devoted to remembering commercials?) Not quite worthy of the motto, or slogan status, but how can you compete with the above examples?

It really is true, though. The feeling is forever. And ever. And ever. And ever. With pleasant peninsulas all around. Forever-ever.

...

Well, this entry of fun-filled Michigan facts was brought to you by my good friend, Charles Shaw.

Plenty more facts to come!

...

Ps. What is the difference between slogan and motto anyway?

Musings on the Afterlife, or perhaps Do Prep Cooks Dream of Electronic Onions

After my death, assuming there is an benevolent afterlife waiting for me, i hope there is a room in which i can go to see all of the work i have accomplished during my lifetime. i was contemplating today exactly how many onions have i chopped, diced and minced in my six year career as a food service drone. How many stalks of celery, how many carrots, potatoes, chickens have i hacked up? How many pounds of meat have i cooked, braised, baked, broiled. i hope i can walk around the room and see the mounds of food, cartons of eggs, piles and piles of mash potatoes, all there before me. Behold, Gaius, this was your life.

i'd also like to see all of the food i've eaten, too. Gallons upon gallons of ketchup. Pot after pot of coffee. Vats of beer, box after box of Fudge pops (no sugar added! only 40 calories!), sandwich upon sandwich upon sandwich. Pizza after pizza. And perhaps a dead bug or to.

...

i've noticed a direct correlation between the level of my mood and the presence of my boss.
When one goes up, the other inexplicably seems to go down. Hmmm. Strange, i know. We call it 'friends and family day,' when she's not there.

...

Tomorrow shall prove to be a very interesting day. I'm not exactly looking forward to it, but actually i kind of am. Awkwardness shall abound, as someone mayhaps be getting the proverbial axe.

Stirring up the pot.

Let the party begin.

Bs. G!

So disheartened. After being introduced to Battlestar Galactica after the first two seasons, i come to find out that the Sci-Fi channel is replaying the third season at 2 AM in the morning on Friday nights, and that its already playing the season finale tonight, right now, as i write this. Not that i am going to watch it anyhow, out of order, nor take sneak peaks... really, i am not.

(why is Col. Tigh wearing an eye patch? Dammit!)

Not to mention there is no mention of replaying season three on the Sci-Fi website, nor any release date for season three on DVD.

Plus i was just going to write a comprehensive, compelling rant about how Battlestar trumps Star Trek TNG, but lo and behold someone already has... and done a great job doing it, though its late and i'm not ready to provide the link for it. Not to mention thats kinda like blasphemy. But dammit, if loving BSG is wrong, i don't wanna be right.

Just took a peak, luckily it was a commercial.

Lords of Kobol be praised.

Sometimes you gotta roll a hard six.

So say we all.

...

ok, here it is: http://shasplim.livejournal.com/8825.html

Some days...

some days i cannot believe the amount of absurd things that happen at work, things i couldn't even begin to make up if i really tried. Like today, when one of the wait staff called into work due to recently discovering that he had worms. i've heard many an excuse; the dishonest, the absurd (i myself called in late after the Lady and i discovered her car was stolen one morning, though actually it was towed due to unpaid parking tickets from her driveway), calling in drunk to work, you name it. But worms?

or like the other day when a line cook tried to kill a dishwasher with a sandwich. Xerxes (the disher) happens to be a tad overweight, and has a penchant for protein. I guess technically its not attempted murder as he wasn't force feeding him, but trying to induce a heart attack is another thing. That sandwich was beyond loaded with all the worst heart-clogging ingredients, and he ate it all... in about five minutes. and then proceeded to eat two hard-boiled eggs and a chicken liver later that day.

they say skinny cooks can't be trusted. neither can overweight dishers. watch your walk-ins people.

some days... its days like these that keep me coming back for more.

...

New blog test run

let us see what this baby can do.