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 |  Welcome to The Library. Randomness happens, Studyees. |
 I figured it was about time I started keeping track of silly thoughts or strange things I see from time to time. Sometimes it's vulgar. Sometimes it's sad. And even on some rare occasions, it's a riot!  I think a therapist would have a field day with this...oh wait...I already tried that, to no avail. I guess the rest is up to you. So feel free to stick your takes in The Drop-Off at any time, and don't hold back. Give it to me! Studyees, you get prime real estate in The Library, so make it count. Peace out NOW! 
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| I need a job. Besides driving myself nuts and bouncing off these many walls, I'm getting incredibly lazy. The laundry, the fridge, the bathroom... And that ice cream truck really didn't just drive around the block again!?! I made the mistake of catching Jess in the midst of manual labor. I teased her and she shot back at me. It appears her new love is not me, but me not having a job. The irony is that the only place that seems to be hiring around here is Walgreens. And she's jealous of my situation. She also doesn't listen, which makes me no longer want to care. She thought I was going away this weekend. A bit off from me saying "I might go away next weekend." I could get a newspaper from the box on the corner and get more respect. After tomorrow, I'm done. I appreciate the conversation, but I could be doing more with my time and I don't need the smacktalk. I would get into detail, but I need a nap. |
| A combination of the music that I've been listening to and the blogs I've read in hopes of catching up has led me to considering retiring the phrases "fuck this/that". WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE DIRECTED AT CERTAIN LAME-ASS CASHIERS. Stepped to The Wall and left all intentions at the curb. A walking persona of letting the chips fall where they may. Had a nice convo with this blog reader's favorite villian. A nice convo that reeked of her interest in me as a customer, but motherfucking me as a person. Told her I got stuck with jury duty and that kept me away from family this weekend. "Oh, they finally snagged your unemployed ass?" Fuck that. She went on telling me not to worry about me getting old just because my stepmom fucked up my age and she's (Jess) older, and gave me shit for playing Kan Jam ("Isn't that a college person's game?"). Sorry...teens live all up in 542, so when at 542, do as the 542'ers do. Not my fault you have tweeners. She did ask me my weekend plans and I did hers. Of course, I have no plans. Hers are working. Awesome. I fuck with her hard this weekend, tell her the only thing I know that I'm not doing this weekend is playing miniature golf with her, and get myself on my happy way. And scrub my soul of this fuck-up that I brought upon myself. Get in, get out, get done. Still stick the occasional syringe in her thought process, but otherwise, fuck that. I'm relaxing this weekend. Done with the format. |
| Waking up this morning to the rash of texts, emails, phone calls, c-Notes and merit badges could only mean one thing: I made it through another year able to kiss daylight. Big props to my girl hailey for the coolest surprise birthday gift ever. If you haven't done so yet, please visit
 Thanks to every single one of you for your thoughts, c-Notes, merit badges, texts and kind words. You made what would otherwise be a regular day to this cat positively extraordinary  . You don't know what it means to me or how good it feels. It's one of those things that's so rare I'm at a loss to describe it and I don't know how to thank you.So how am I celebrating? Low-key. I probably won't do the family thing until next weekend actually, because my aunt and uncle are spending the summer at their cottage and my dad goes on the weekends and comes back on mondays, but I have stupid jury duty next monday so I need to be here for that. That's why everything seems so extra special; with a family unit that's basically disintegrated, I'm thankful I got to spend the day with the amazing people that you are. It really means a lot to me, all that you've done.  It's very humbling.So here's my final birthday outburst and candle-blowing wish: I see a lot of people everyday going out of their way to make nice for people because it's their "special day". Fair enough. But imagine what the world would be like if we treated everyone like every day was their birthday. I'm not saying you have to buy cards and bake cakes and send c-Notes and watch pole-dancers go all-out, but just take care of each other, ya know? Sometimes, and I know it sounds cliché but you'll have that, a little goes a long way. There are lots of ways to make someone's day that don't require much effort. Be creative and you can make a difference in anyone's life at any time. So from the top of my hathead, the middle of my thin chest and the short trip down to the cracks in the soles of my sandals, a most sincere and heartfelt thanks. Y'all are 141% awesome and all 5'6" of me is bursting with pride and amazement. Peace.  |
| I am a man without a family. I went to Arby's for lunch and my dad called. I let it slide because I had a fistful of Chicken Cordon Bleu and I'd check him when I got home. The voicemail he left started with the usual "Yeah, this is dad..." as if I forgot how to read and went deaf simultaneously. But then it got weird. There was an urgency in his voice when he said he wanted to talk to me that brought me back to the nineties and sounded like I fucked something up...a tone I hadn't heard since, well, the nineties. A little background...my dad and stepmom split up in January. My stepmom was a mother to me when I needed mothering most. Now for the sketchiness...it was no secret they weren't happy at the end. When my sis came up with her boyfriend from Tampa in October we went to the famous Anchor Bar for wings. Dad wasn't feeling good so he stayed home. I would've drove but wasn't sure where I was going, so Audi (my stepmom) drove. After awhile, she asked if she could invite a "friend" of hers to join us. I didn't care- I never care. My sis pitched a fit and left. Enter "friend" Jim, a patient or something- I don't know- that Audi met at work (she's a nurse on the drug/alcohol/crazies floor at the Veterans' Hospital). I'll spare the bullshit details other than this... I was in the fucking way because when it became time to leave, all the sudden my place was out of the way. My dad did not know this. And now I feel like the bad son. When they split I helped Audi move in February. So did Jim. If it wasn't obvious there was already something going on, you could smell Jim's lust in the way he spoke. But what goes on between grown fools is none of my biz, and that goes for dad too because whether he realizes it or not, he played a role. I tried to sit on the fence. Fast forward to me calling dad back. He called to tell me he's getting a lawyer because he found out in a roundabout way that Audi's living with some dude, so he's persuing a divorce. Good- you do what ya gotta do. He's established in his place, bought a nice car, working full time. Get some closure. Not the kind of thing anyone wants to hear, but especially not me and not this week. But for the first time in his life, it seems homeboy is finally doing things on his terms and taking some initiative. I have to give Pop Diesel props though for catching up with the program...he mentioned that he had a card for me but didn't say those two words associated with me and 7/31, so we're cool.  We may hang out next weekend at my aunt and uncle's getaway in the souther-than-southtowns.So I was a little stung but ok. Went for some McD's with Jake, K-wol and H-bomb for some chicky nuggets. My screen door is a tricky bitch to close properly...I've mastered it as have most of the visitors. When I came home it was flailing in the breeze, and Audi's car was down the street at her sister's house. She stuck a birthday card in the door. Nice move, right? Inside it says "34 yrs old- Oh my god!!!  " and signed by her and my bro Mike (but not Mike's writing, because he's always been pampered like that). A few lottery ticket scratch-offs, I should be all set, right? Fuck that. I'll be 33, not 34. And people wonder why I get pissy around this time of year. I mean, Audi's been in my life only for as long as I can remember. I don't want to be seething, but I am. I'm angry about that and I feel like shit for not giving dad more of a heads up. My birthdays used to be blastys where people got along, partied and had a good time. Now they're marked by breakups, craziness and family drama/idiocity/forgetfulness. Lovely. I want to go to sleep later on and wake up next week so I don't have to deal with all the happy horseshit of people treating someone like we should treat people every day. Plus I don't want to sit through jury duty. Fuck that. If you're reading this right now, thanks. I appreciate it. Don't pity me for always getting stuck on the wrong team. I just needed to vent. |
| http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BloDep5fyog Today I put the master plan I concocted into action. With a twist. My buddy's birthday was in March and I forgot I had the birthday card laying around. I couldn't find his address and would forget to ask him, so I guess he never got his card. Oops. My bad, Dave. On the other hand, Jess gets the hysterical card. So I headed to the supermarket to buy a cupcake and those candles that light back up when you blow them out. And you know, they sell every kind of candle in the freakin' world...squiggly ones, striped ones, jumbo ones, candles that form smoke in the image of Elvis , name it and it's in the form of a candle. But they had one freaking box of the candles I was looking for. Shame on the big-box supermarkets of the world. And cupcakes...WTF, big supermarket bakery. Usually by the checkout they'll have a box of 4 jumbo cupcakes on sale or something, which I was going to get and just give the other cupcakes away because I don't eat them and I doubt she would want 4 jumbo cupcakes. So no luck. All these tables of baked goods, enough to give me a diabetic coma just from walking through, but no stinkin' cupcakes. Going to the store for cupcakes is no cupcake. I get to the last table and, as the angels began to sing and the heavens opened up with all their glory, there too were the cupcakes. Trays and trays of regular sized and even miniature sized, glazed, frosted, filled even. But that's not what I'm looking for.  Discouraged but not undetermined, I strolled through the sweets. Donuts? No. Strudel? No. Pie? No. Then I walked past the birthday cakes. I said to myself "Self, you don't want to buy this chick an entire freaking cake. It's not like you're even dating her and you'll look like an ass walking down the street with a cake...and if you get hit by a car it'll be twice the mess." (I really have to take these things into consideration). And this store makes all types of crazy cakes! Shapes, sizes, colors...one even looked 3-dimensional, like it was supposed to be something but I couldn't figure out what, and it was frosted in like a navy-blue-almost-black color that made it look more like a sculpture than dessert. My search for the perfect tasty treat was starting to look dire. Ever notice how every time you find something it's always in the last place you look? I was about to take my eye off the display case of cakes/sculptures and head back to the islands of desserts for the sixth time because maybe they put something new out since I was last there five minutes ago when they finally caught my eye...single-serve pieces of cake! Jackpot! Big pieces too, I tell you...bigger than my hand. Wait...I've got kinda small hands...never mind. Chocolate cake to the rescue, it's on. Checked out and went to fill out the card (which is hysterical, might I add...sorry again, Dave) when it occurred to me that all that I've ingested so far today was a bottle of Mountain Dew and some oxygen. Combine that with the fact I'm using my leg as a table to write in the card and the slight nervousness about actually going through with this, and Jess has a card that looks like it was signed by a first-grader. And that was nothing compared to when I actually got there. She was there, cashing fools out with their coupons (and the next time some lady says it like "q-pon" instead of "koupon", I will run them over in the parking lot with a shopping cart and I'm not even kidding. Seriously people, there is no "q" in "coupon" and I'm very demanding about this.) and their pencils and rainchecks and substitutions and let's hurry the fuck up here because I'm antsier than usual times 10 and I've got cake. I put my merch down, dug out my debit card and opened my bag while she continued the transaction. I pulled out the bag I stuffed the box of cake and card into, set it on the counter and said "Happy Birthday". And my God by then I was a ball of nerves so strung you could've wrapped me in shrinkwrap and in five minutes or less would have been able to swim out of it. I could barely enter the PIN to get cash back and I was trying not to look it, which of course enhances the nervousness and puts me under the microscope. She looks at it, kinda gives me the good smirk and then the sweetest smile ever. I mean, ever, with a sincere thank you that could make even the harshest of serial killers crack and want to pet bunnies. Meanwhile, Joe Cool over here is fumbling with the pen for the touch screen, putting in the wrong PIN, and telling her I haven't eaten yet and have only had caffeine so far today. She laughs and says "Can't function when you don't eat?" "Yes" was all I could think of to say. Luckily there was an old lady behind me who saved my ass by butting into the failing conversation with "Oh, I know what you mean, I'm the same way." Thanks and all lady, but didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to interrupt? (And no, I didn't say that. If I said 10% of the things I think on a daily basis I'd either be dead, in jail, or in a straightjacket.) Collected my stuff (and myself) and told her I hope she has a good day. She thanked me again and I was out like Will Smith's hip hop career.All I can figure now is that my awesomeness is starting to wear her down, which may force her hand if this other guy she might still be with starts letting his mack game slip. I'll echo the immortal words of Adam Yauch, "Girls with boyfriends are the kind I like; I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike." I present now somemore Flickerstick, in honor of my accomplishment today. Hope everybody's having a decent day. If not, this song's for you.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qgHnkOpkIUI&feature=related Peace. |
| I wish I got that bored that easily that I could be lead to write anything. Fuck, I just tossed a frisbee back and forth in my backyard for an hour by myself. It was like horseshoes for one. Lame. So for some reason the itch to write has come back to me, albeit ambiguous and jaded. So this is what happened this morning: "A Threadbare Needle"  Married friend has been emailing me all day. A place I'm not sure I'm down with. I'll never be able to get her cleansed from my system if she keeps it up, but I don't exactly do much to stifle my words. I can't keep a secret unless it depended on my life and I'll have to face it: this girl is going to drive me batshit because love does that to guys who actually have a romantic bone in their skeleton that doesn't leak fluids. Even if I'm blogging to myself, have a great night. I'm laying low in hope that tomorrow I can get all up in a cashier's wheelhouse. Cue up Flickerstick's "Coke" or "Chloroform" and love somebody. I'd buy the world a Coke if I could lay here naked with my girl. |
| I spent the entire hours of daylight this weekend pretty much playing Kan Jam. It's addicting. And from what I hear it was invented in Western NY! It's a game with two people on a team that throw a frisbee toward "cans" the size of metal trash cans with a slot cut into them. You get 2 points for hitting the can, 3 for your partner slamming the toss in the can, or 1 for hitting their toss against the can. Typically we play up to 21 with going back to zero if you hit 13 or 13 if you go over 21, and if both teams reach 21 you both go back to a 13-13 tie. If you get the frisbee in the slot, you automatically win. We play a best-of-seven series. I am now not only a Kan Jam pro, but a champion. I'll do some research and maybe post a link. Then saturday night rolls around. The kids are going to a party down the street so I figured my best place would be to stay home so they got home ok. The biggest problem of the night? Not Amber's little chicky friend Alex puking her brains out in the backyard. Not K-Wol's drunk and gangly ass wanting to use my bathroom and walking like all his limbs are desparate to flee his body. Not Jake puking for like an hour upstairs. It was dealing with Monk, Jake, and Amber's 51 year old dad Jacko. Drunk he was, and wanting to take over my music. I won't get into the depth of talent today about my cd collection or why I have certain cds that would cause a normal 20- or 30-something to cringe. But after he brought down his Moody Blues cd, out of respect I endured Blood Sweat and Tears, The Hollies, The Bee Gees, and Jacko's crazy stories and singing. Did I mention the mo-fin' Bee Gees? Diane was probably glad to have him and vodka someplace other than upstairs. And no, I don't touch vodka anymore. I'm proud of Winks. He must've taken a cue from the night I took care of his drunk ass awhile back, because he kept his head the whole night and shuttled his beat-up kicks back and forth between here, upstairs and the party trying to deal with the lightweights that can't hold their liquor. Dude was a champ last night. Finally got Jack out, everyone got settled, and the got told I sound so "American" before my phone gave me the big eff-you and decided it didn't want to communicate with foreign numbers anymore. But I think I took care of that this morning. So I woke up super early, because my internal clock seems to be missing a hand and not some numbers, but actually made it back to dreamland in time to not miss anything I'd been dreaming and it provided me some much-needed sleep. Woke up, lunched, got the rundown from Winks on last night, Kan Jammed all afternoon, dealt some more with Jack's stories and him telling the boys he's almost the high school's greatest athlete, and Diane's lasagna is phenomenal. Plus, I have devised a plan. Tomorrow is Jess' birthday. I know she won't be there, because she mentioned she was taking time off for it- three days. So on tuesday, since she wasn't there yesterday or today, I will stop at the bakery down the street and buy a cupcake. If they don't have cupcakes and the supermarket doesn't have cupcakes, then a chocolate chip muffin. Then I'm gonna put a candle in it...but one of those ones that relights when you blow it out. I'll find a way to make it look conspicuous (not gonna light the candle) and pray I get it to her before her break and she tries to light the candle. Lame joke, I know...but it's the least stalkerish way to do what I can do. So there's some other details, but I have company. I'll be disturbing your peaces soon. |
| I'll admit it. I've been in kinda a funk lately. Generally happens this time every year. It has nothing to do with being sick but might have to do with being stuck inside by the weather the last couple of days. Finally today has been pretty nice and without a hint of rain. However, there's still a bit of a cloud on my mind that I'll be having to deal with for a bit yet. Bear with me. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQfVte5nfg0 Finally managed to go on ESPN on my cell phone and set it up to get alerts from my favorite teams, and even though I have unlimited texting on my phone, I'm still regretting this decision. Since signing up about three hours ago, I've received about 20 texts so far. And I have to say, ESPN's idea of "Breaking News" is most definitely not the same as my idea of breaking news. Chumps. I usually stick around the house long enough to get the mail. That was another mistake as well. Got my 2nd birthday card so far, and seriously, every year it seems to come sooner and sooner, like my birthday has morphed into some bullshit Hallmark Holiday and stores start setting up for it three months in advance like Christmastime. Let me repeat for emphasis...I am not a fan of birthdays. Maybe once I start looking or acting or living my age, maybe. But I like things in life that make sense, and me being another year older doesn't make sense. Besides, why assign a digit to someone who's invincible ? Don't go putting a shelf life on this kid.So I'm not really too upset about the card itself, but I don't know what to make of how it got to me. It came from the married girl that we decided last fall we weren't going to have conversations anymore because it'll only lead to the breaking up of her family. And we haven't...but she's been sending me email forwards lately again and today sent me a card with a really sweet message, which will always lead me to think about any alterior motives. Like, does she only attempt to reach out to me when she's having marital issues? Is she looking at me as a reason to have marital issues? Forget the fact that we're like, "soulmates" and "perfect for each other" and shit; the fact is she's married, we should've never messed around once that ring was on her finger and her second kid was on the way, and she's halfway across the state. So let's just let things be the way they are. But we don't. We're too damn complicated to act like adults. Such is life. Then there's Jess, everybody's favorite Walgreens maneater. Walked past her today like I didn't see her, and I've got to start doing a better job of that because she caught me today. Walked past her aisle and just as I thought I was in the clear, I hear "HEY!" and my foot hit the ground hard enough that my shoe squeaked, so it's not like I could use the "I didn't hear you" excuse. Damn. I backed up and said "What's up" and she was all like "Why don't you talk to me anymore? You come in, don't say hi, etc..." My mind was rolling its eyes at her hard enough to knock down ten pins at the bowling alley, but I just stood there and stared. "I've been sick this past weekend and earlier this week, and I haven't even seen you." Damn. That was weak but it bought me enough time to reload because all she could say was "Yeah, uh huh, sure" before I smacked her upside the dome with "Besides, I don't like comin' in here and gettin' yelled at." Stuck her right in the think tank. "Who yells at you?" she asks, like she doesn't know the answer is on her driver's license. "You!" I replied, shocked that she could think anybody else in this company might want to yell at this cool, tiny little glass of B. "I don't yell at you! You've never seen me mad!" she says, like I've never seen her pull off a shitty denial before. "You were yellin' and gettin' mad sayin' I got you in trouble!" I reminded her, and she reiterated that she was not mad while trying again not to lose her breath. I had to switch gears fast to avoid another pile-up at the counter. "So happy early birthday" I told her. She looks at me and goes "How did you know my birthday's coming?" She must really think I'm some kind of idiot (and she's kinda right about that sometimes) for not thinking I'd remember that her birthday is three days before mine; either that or she just doesn't remember anything because she said something like "What else have I told you?" Selective amnesia, pulled off better than any man ever could. Even the things guys are known for, girls can pull it off so much better. That scares me about the female race. Told her I would've gotten her a card but that I didn't want to get her in trouble again. Now before I go explaining her response, ladies, please tell me, wouldn't you think that would be a sweet gesture? Plain, simple, nothing fancy, given my situation and standing with this girl. "Shut up." Damn, she's been practicing her Shakespeare I see.  I tell her not to tell me to shut up (about as nicely as one can, I suppose) and she tells me her back hurts. A few months ago, I would've offered a massage, but girls who tell me to shut up get the gas face and the recommendation of medicated heat pads (and trust me, those shits really do the job when you throw your back out). Meanwhile, some bluehair keeps creepin' up on me and I assume it's not because she wanted a whiff of my aftershave...if she would've gotten any closer I may have tried making out with her if I knew it would've made Jess jealous. So that's that. So far. No plans for the weekend and limited ambition for anything else. Might otherwise mind my own business today if I can. I know I won't be doing any housework today, but that's a given. Hope y'all are leading more exciting lives than mine. Have a great weekend. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdmwmxhHmlg P.S. You know...I almost feel a whole lot better in the head after getting all that out... |
| I'm landlocked for a third day in a row under a shiny blue sky and a deep vertical rain. This is unprecedented in my life's history. The rain came so hard and fast that it barely made an imprint on the neighbor's fence, but it's enough to keep me inside for the day. I was reading a blog earlier about something that I could relate to, not personally but in a personal way. So since I don't have access to most internet services besides what my phone gives me, your homework is virally spreading the song of the day. "Wounded" by Third Eye Blind. Before today, that made me bawl like a girl busting out her illicit past in hopes I wouldn't dump her. Now I'm just that same guy. Banana peppers may be the end of me. I love 'em. But I don't eat them enough. I have one day with them and I'm out, but 3 days in a row and I'm fine. They cashed me out early last night. The stomach doesn't hold as much as it used to, but you'd never know it given its expansion. And I can say that because when my diet consisted of barley sandwiches, I lost a lot of weight. So I woke up ridiculously early today, because I went to bed ridiculously early. Answered some emails, peeped some blogs, and decided it was time for a breakfast sandwich because I was cravin' hard on a hammy croissammy from the BK Lounge. Brushed my teeth, dry (mostly) heaved, rebrushed, and decided the omelet sandwich was the best way to go. Bad move sucka. But it made it so much easier walking through Walgreens, being in a stuffed haze. And I had so much more to say, but distraction after distraction has presented itself and I'm left feeling pulled apart by horses with no limbs left. Damn that feeling of, um, feeling things. |
| As the saying goes: Buffalo...if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes and it'll change. The last two days have been very deceptive. Sunny and blue skies and that evil elixir falling from the sky at the same time with no notice nor hint of a cloud...rain. And not just a drizzle or a light, quick splash. The kind of rain that says good luck to the ass of your khakis if you forgot your car window was open because the mildew smell will get baked in once the hot sun is unencumbered by the nemesis-worthy torrential downpour. I really believe you could've gotten a sunburn and a shower at the same time today. Not a lot going on otherwise. No Jess today, and yesterday we both did a good job of ignoring each other. I stood in line with my face buried in the paper, while she went on her lunch break. Sweet. Might go watch Jake's basketball game later, but I hate going to the gym at the Boys & Girls Club because even when you're just standing there, when you leave you smell like you've played six hours of b-ball in the hot sun and pissed yourself twice. They need to do something about the ventilation there besides keeping a single side door open. Plus, even though it's way super comfy nice out at this moment, I don't feel like leaving mi casa. No reason. Just don't wanna. And I'm not in the mood to hang out. I'm not in any mood...don't know what I want but I know what I don't want. I'll throw in somemore Wu-Tang, light another Seneca, think about life for awhile and hope that this rain is over for good. Two days in a row now with two drenched pairs of sneakers and two drenched pairs of socks. Not my idea of steady rollin'. I'll meditate; so stay safe, don't playa-hate and I'll catch ya when I can walk without steppin' into a lake. |
| Before I say anything, I have to point out something that's been bothering me for weeks. And it's becoming an epidemic that's sweeping swiffering blogville, and specifically 56erNation. Blog-on-Blog Crime. People, are you serious? For months now, and I mean months, I've gotten random emails from a regular or 8, saying either they read me but don't comment because of what someone else said to them, or that I pissed someone off, or somebody doesn't like someone else, or this person is mad at so and so for whatever kinda dumb shit. So I'm making a plea to you all: CUT THE SHIT I read the blogs on my list for certain reasons. I respect every single one on that list and do my best to keep up, even if y'all have your differences. Keep it to yourselves. Even if you think less of someone else for whatever fucking lame ass excuse of a reason. And you know what? This isn't directed at anyone in particular, but to everyone. My inbox is not a breeding ground for hatred, as bitter and pissy as I may be sometimes. No matter how good it really does feel to tell someone to fuck off, don't tell me to tell someone else who reads my shit that you'd like them to fuck off. I won't have that for what I pay for this and enjoy. Not cool. I will not stand for that. You people are all like an extended family away from family, and I realize everyone's different, but you're all adults and you don't need me solving your problems. Man or woman up and put the dog shit on someone else's lawn. That said, man I don't even wanna talk about today. Can't trust a Buffalo blue sky anymore when it looks so perfect but you can't look at it because you're trying to dodge raindrops bouncing off the pavement. Made the mistake of wearing white shorts and got caught in a freak rainstorm. The blue boxers with the squirrels holding signs that say "Nut season- open" from AE were nicely on display. It rained like mad. I buried the Dew, busted out the umbrella, and I'm so disinterested by some grown folks' immaturity that I don't even feel like giving the shoutouts I intended to today. But I do have to raise a peace sign up to Gabs, slap a hug on her and welcome her back to the fold. The MB was very sweet of you and very appreciated. The rest of you...BEHAVE. |
| Word...don't forget your late pass. Wasn't gonna blog today, but since I woke up feeling a lot more like my $50 dollar self than the 50 cents I've been dealing with the last few days, I figured I'd stop by and say hi. And tell you what my visit to The Wall was like. The match-breaker got his game on tight. I'm still sporting my dirty smirk. So let's back up. Friday night I texted Jess to no reply. No big. I found out why today. I grab my merch and wait in a line that would put the Million Man March to shame. I get antsy when the line is more than 3 deep, so I wander and stare at shit and make faces and imagine what the next conversation might sound like. After the rebirth of eternity, I finally have the opportunity to pay up before I leave The Wall a shoplifter instead. Jess looks at me with a wrinkled nose, a huge stink-eye and straight-up screwfacing me so hard that I think my ego landed somewhere in aisle 4 next to the Advil. Someone's bra is obviously on a little too tight today. "Yo, why you gotta look at me like that?" I said. I had my Used t-shirt on, but Bert is definitely not her homeboy right now. I think she was gonna hyperventilate as she managed to blast into me with a voice that was equal parts pissed and enamored. "You got me in a whole lot of trouble the other night!!!" (The amount of exclamation points is a ballpark estimate surely on the shy side.) Cue Ashley's "shit son" emoticon...here. My homewrecker experience kicked in hard. "I'm good like that" in a tone that said "that's life" with a mile high smirk on my grill that no amount of Ajax could scrub off. She scanned my Mountain Dew, slammed it on the counter and said "I should shake your pop up on you." I said "No matter, I probably shook it up while waiting in this forever-long line" and stuck it in my bag. I had to pull out the sarcastic retallitory dick line because the fuel needs more fire. She looks at me like she can't hide the smile or her face is gonna crack, shoves my newspaper at me and curtly (and definitely in capital letters) says "BYE". I gave her a peace out and strolled to the door like the battered heavyweight who took the battle in the 12th round. I know what it all means and I'm cool with it. So she's probably still dabbling with that pretender. Fine with me...puts me in position to mack uninhibited-like, lay low, keep my calm and jump only when the train has slowed down on the tracks. So I'm peacin' pretty well right now, and usually I sign off by encouraging the spreading of love, but today isn't that kind of day. Outside I look all jovial and it's been a fun day chillin' with the boys, but to paraphase the words of the great Gord Downie, my mind is smashing its gear like The Who at good old Monterrey. So in my honor, go tell someone to fuck off. It can be a very liberating thing just saying it, even if you're not really serious. Happy sunday night y'all! |
| So the hot-button topic of the day has been my belly. Noe, I wouldn't know an ulcer from a stable relationship if either slapped me in the face with a million dollar bill. Hailey, have you ever just had a plain old stomachache and not felt right, and maybe even thrown up before? Lisa, sometimes it just hits me. Rarely, but once in awhile. Usually while brushing my teeth. It's not an epidemic; just a crazy gag reflex. No Janie, upchucking hasn't been cool since...the last time I checked into it. And Catherine, thank you for appreciating a great song and powerful video. So I woke up this morning and laid on the loveseat in my spare room, seriously wondering if I've had a stroke (a legitimate concern because Pop B had a couple while in his late 40's). Or a heart attack. I was sweating like mad, shaking, having hot and cold flashes and my arms felt numb from the elbows down. And my heartbeat was audible and could be physically felt. And that was after 12 hours of sleep. I never get 12 hours anymore; I'm lucky to get 7. Got up and whatever was in me decided rather than leave me orally it would much rather enjoy leaving me from a seated position. And honestly, I would've preferred vomitting, because 99% of the time a good chuck makes you feel ten times better. I got dressed, set up the big fan in my living room, felt dizzy and slept another hour and a half on the couch. What happened to all the water I've drank the last few days? Woke up to some texts, barely made it to the corner for a newspaper, ate a candy bar and decided I needed to try to eat something of value. Only problem is I really wanted tacos. Which meant phoning the pizzeria down the street and picking it up, because the good taco places are too far away. But the taco was pretty decent, if not on the small side for being $3. Tried taking another nap, but I'm not a good napper and it didn't help that my landlord called and misunderstood our earlier conversation... I would call tomorrow afternoon about the rent, not today. Dude needs to get his hearing checked. It's been proven time and again. Anyway, I'm feeling much much better at this hour and want to thank you all for the love and concern. It's so cool and very appreciated. Now for those interested...I did text Jess last night thanking her for chasing me down and that she has a good day off today. And I'm not suprised by the lack of response. So we'll see what happens when I make my way down there tomorrow. I am no longer chasing, because the cat is constantly overrunning the mouse and still getting the cheese. So fuck it. I'm just gonna throw cheese at her and see if it sticks...if it doesn't then she's not a real mouse. And with that I'm gonna get on with the evening. I'm not entirely tired, but I'm something, so we'll see how the night goes. Maybe SNL will be interesting tonight. Goodnight y'all, much love. |
I'm pretty sure that's a line in something I wrote once. Just something I was funning around with the other day. My fundraiser last night...kinda lame. I didn't get stuck behind the grill; I got stuck bunning and running...taking the hot dogs, hamburgers and sausages off the grill, putting them in rolls, and running them into the pavillion. Which wasn't easy, because for some reason the way we set up the tables in the pavillion made it very difficult to get to the food table. Plus, as I was so keen to notice this morning, I singed a lot of forearm hair on my right arm gathering food by the grill. But it was still a good time and we had a good turnout, even if my duties setting up, helping out and cleaning up left me little time to do any mingling. I'm hoping the ass-busting I did yesterday covers up the fact that I only sold one ticket...to myself. So I go to Walgreens this afternoon, and that was way too freakin' stinkin' interesting. Made my lap around and Jess was there with some other worker having some sort of discussion/arguement/recipe exchange with a non-pleasant looking customer, which even included someone using the overhead paging system to call a manager. So I walked by and waited in the main line. Ooooohh did that cause some shit. I went to the main line because the easiest way to pay my cell phone bill is with prepaid cards (until the T-Mobile store down the street gets fully set up to take bill payments) and that's where there cards live. Made my purchase and (I think I may retitle my entire blog WTF??!?) I'm about to pass the first set of sliding doors when I hear a commotion. Someone keeps yelling "HEY! HEY! Get back here!"  I turn around, and it's Jess. And she's made her way from the cosmetics area to the front of the store screaming for me. And I'm too fucked up from puking for no apparent reason this morning to be concerned. "What was that? You walk by my counter, don't even say hi, then cash out up front? What's that about?" "Sorry, you looked busy." She did! I swear! And with that, a complete 180 degree topic change that I never saw coming, after she asked how my fundraiser was and what it was for and how I stumped her on why I only sold one ticket (which for once makes me look a little smarter than her...a point I've been needing to make for a long time, that I have at least some intelligence). "I almost texted you last night, to apologize for not calling you the other night." I didn't puke that much to not remember her saying she was going to call me anytime soon, unless that's what she means when she says pointedly "I'll talk to you later." I think I said something like "you should've" and she told me she was off tomorrow, so I said I wasn't coming in. She goes "yeah, right" all sarcastically and I'm hoping I don't feel the need to toss my stomach contents again. Really wish I knew what the stomach drama was about. And I wish I knew what was up with this chick. Chasing me across a store, making a scene, threatening to text me...this drama's getting a little...ummm, WTF-ish. But as soon as that text or phone call or anything comes through, I'm on that like dust on my bookshelf. And if I happen to be IM'ing or texting and just disappear or cut an email short in mid-sentence, you'll know why. Til then, I'mma try to figure out what the hell I'm gonna do with the rest of my weekend, try to get caught up on some things, suck down water like it's the antidote and keep on keepin' on. I suggest y'all do the same. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afX6VYn48KE Still can't get the song out of my head. Fantastic, amazing stuff. |
| I got hit on today. Ladies, before you get anxious and start doing crazy things like sending me email roses (---<----@), let me assure you The Kid is still on the market. Why? It was by the military. I woke up and dillydallied around the 542 before I let the craving for eggs, sausage and mashed potatoes get the best of me. Got my bones together and made steps down to the diner...didn't even hit Walgreens first. Got my paper from the honor box and the Dew was all set. Headphones strapped, I'm straight to get what I want. I love this area. It's residential but everything's close...a 15 minute walk to anywhere for anything. But damn... If rule No. 1 is don't talk to me in public unless I engage you, rule No. pre-1 is if my headphones are on, that's your cue to move along and not bother me. My long-time regulars know that (and much respect for the 3500+ views that I woke up to this morning...you cats blow my mind). So I'm crossing an insignificant side street when a fancy black car stops and does everything to get my attention while I'm trying to groove on "Gift Shop" by The Tragically Hip. And my annoyance factor has just hit the clouds. "Hey! Ever thought about joining the service?" Whew...finally someone not looking for directions or cigarettes. But still, fuck that. I gave a very curt "No" as I sized up all the pins on their pockets and figured out they were Navy recruiters. And that's a lie...I almost joined the Marines out of high school, and boy did dad rip my shit up when I told him I wasn't gonna follow in his footsteps and join to learn how to push a broom for the rest of my life. But I digress... Navy boys in the black car ask my age. It looks like a drug transaction on my way to summer school. They didn't give a shit that I was older than them and looked younger than them...the cocky SOB in the driver seat made sure he got his two cents in also. I'm not interested, but thanks. And I'll be sure to pass the business card along to anyone willing to get it out of my garbage can. So I eat and realize I totally fucking blew it with Jess. My political fundraiser is tomorrow, so I offered her a ticket (one for$25, couples for $40, or go with me and it's free). She says if I'd asked 3 weeks ago she would've gone. Well, I didn't have tickets 3 weeks ago and something else always comes up in conversation. And yeah, I flatfuck blew this one too. What could be worse? Mr. Vice Chairman over here has sold all of one ticket...to himself. Maybe it's good that she's not going, as I've been informed I definitely will be working the grill. I can do hot dogs, but good luck if you take one of my burgers. I don't cook shredded cow well. And this is my final rant for the day...I'll get all Radiohead and call it my final fit, my final bellyache... So I'm jacked that my picture messaging kinda works. Got Hailey's and she got mine; Ash got mine but I didn't get hers. Then I'm foolin' around outside with my digital camera...got off a few shots and then it just dies. Nothin. That sucks. I hope maybe my stepmom has the reciept because it should be under warranty. But I'll hopefully have a new pic or 2 to post either tomorrow or Friday. I have no luck with cameras. Technology has again kicked my ass. Anyway, I'm out. One of the annoyances from down the street asked me if I had a smoke and invited me to sit out front of my own place. Wow, that's balls. Who does this kid think he is?!? Dude, don't invite me to my front. My apartment. I make the rules down here son, and if I don't like you...hold up, dude just took off. Nice. Anyway, enjoy your evening everybody. Don't talk to strangers. |
| It was bound to happen one of these days. I don't do these things for attention, mind you. I played on a softball team a few years ago. Our team was the Lynch Mob. We had hats and jerseys and everything. Navy blue hats with silver stitching that said "MOB" in the front and our nickname and jersey number on the back. We had a few practices but when the first game rolled around I still hadn't met some of the guys on the team. I showed up with long hair, a full beard and sandals (because I didn't want to drive in cleats). One of the guys looked at my buddy and said "Who brought Jesus? Is he supposed to save us?" It was pretty funny, so the back of my hat says "JESUS 41". Now y'all know that I'm not entirely fond of strangers approaching me in public, especially in restaurants. Luckily, I was finished with my meal at Burger King, or this lady, let's said in her late 40's or early 50's, may have needed some divine intervention from the King himself in trying to remove my hambuger from her rectum. I haven't even made eye contact with this woman. As I'm getting up to leave, all the sudden I hear "Hey, I really like your hat!" I paused, remembered what hat I was wearing, turned around and said politely "thank you" and bolted. I heard her turn to her companions and tell them she liked my hat because it said Jesus on it. I really wish she would've also noticed that I had a Coors beer t-shirt on as well. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uBGmc3bmgaY T-Mobile recently opened up a branch right around the corner from me. Sweet! So I figured I'd stop in and see if they could figure out why I wasn't able to send or receive picture messages. Wow. They may as well should've given me a nametag, because I was there that long. They tried the simple fixes (that I already tried). They tried the not-so-simple fixes. They called customer service. Then they put me on with tech support (classy move, right? Give the customer the store phone and let him sit there while you eat your Subway lunch and discuss the merits of old SIM cards. Sheesh.). Tech support sends me over to PDA support, which has me on hold while they look for someone that handles Flex accounts, because the codes might be different. After way too much holding, some completely different guy picks up, and I'm back to square one. And this guy's complaining that he can't hear me, I assume because Tweedledum and Tweedledumber behind the counter are talking about who knows what, and the door is open and the traffic's whooshing by, so I hung up on him after the third time I repeated my phone number. Told one of the guys my story and said he'd try to speak to someone. Oh lordy, maybe you should have done that in the first place !!. Finally he gets a hold of someone with the slightest bit of competence. Again, he hands the phone back to me, presumably because while he may be running the joint, I must have more experience (none) with the technical problems of my phone than he does.So Cinderella on the other end of the line wants to perform a Master Reset. Lovely. For some reason half the numbers in my phone don't seem to want to transfer to my SIM card. Not cool. And the purpose of this master reset? Pretty much the same as wiping the hard drive on a computer clean. It basically resets the phone to factory conditions  . Finally got all my numbers saved, hit a few buttons, waited for the phone to reboot, waited for it to recognize and load my contacts and wait for her to send me a test picture. Which finally worked, all for the price of 2 hours of my life that I'll never get back. Ugh. At least now my phone will again be able to do all that it's capable of (when I redownload the ringtones I lost and readjust all the settings to the way I had them before, if I can even remember what they were). Technology...just another way The Man's trying to keep us down.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tA56p_LTaBs No CWC today. Maybe tomorrow. Hope your day isn't as long as mine y'all. |
| The best rip-off of a Beatles' song ever: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MqHkuHy39eA So true. So true.  So Gov. Paterson has signed a bill stating that New York will be participating in the federally funded 13 week expansion of unemployment benefits. Fantastic. I love it when I get letters in the mail on official "Government of New York" letterhead that still lists Spitzer as governor.So I should be excited about this bit of info, no? I'm not. Put the money into training me to do something to actually make money. Put the money into making it easier for me to do something I'm qualified for (which isn't much, but still). Put the money in a place that I won't be tempted on wasting it. Everything seems like a catch-22 some days. Sometimes it just seems like you have to give up too much just to get enough to get by. And I have no business saying anything, because a lot of folks out there are a lot worse-off than me. I'll just shut up and take my extra three months of it and hope something really good comes along in the meanwhile. Jess was too pissed off by the customer in front of me being an idiot today (or maybe the 50 customers being idiots before me today). She looked worn out at 1pm. Said it's been bad since 9am. So I'm hereby declaring today "Be Nice To The Freakin' Cashier" day, so show those saints behind the counters of wherever you travel to a little bit of extra patience. They're human too, even if some probably shouldn't be. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7J5TPXUrj-0&feature=user I got to watch Family Guy for the first time in a long, long time last night. I forgot what it was like to laugh at a television.I think I'm gonna ghost outta here. Got nothin' much to bitch about and nothin' much goin' on anyplace else. Just stoppin' by to say hi and stuff. Stay level y'all. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJQFf0qj9Nk&feature=related |
| I now know that Jess wouldn't mind waking up next to me some day. Usually when my dad's gonna come over I skip The Wall because basically the man is about as timely as a snowstorm in May. But yesterday, I had to stop in. Brushed my chops, splashed around some teeth-whitening mouthwash, slapped on some deodorant and cologne, grabbed the closest shorts and shirt I could find, and hopped on a bike down to the place that has the hot cashier. By the time I got there I may have been awake for all of 15 minutes. Her ears were to be the first set to hear my voice all day, like usual. Only usually I've woken up completely and at least had 2 swigs of the mighty Mountain Dew. She remarked how early it is and I said I was in a hurry. Only it wasn't me in my semi-nasally bass mumbles. It sounded like homeboy ate an entire pack of smokes, box and all, and still wasn't finished sleeping off the previous evening's domestic destruction. And she knew it. "You like, just woke up, didn't you?" I nodded. She looked at her co-worker and said, in a way that definitely implied some sort of complimentary adoration, "Listen to his voice, you can tell he just got up. It sounds so cuuuuute!" And just to satisfy some curiosities out there, I ducked my head and looked at my shuffling feet, just so she couldn't see my blushing and sheepish grin. And motherfucking myself for being too damn tired to come up with anything better to say back. Told her my plans for the day and I was out. Off to my dad's Amvets Post picnic. We showed up and he decided it was his job to "test the keg to see if it worked properly". That must've been his way of telling me I might be driving us home later on. Plus it was way too hot and humid. I was craving water like it was gold. Hoarding it even. Pushing veterans that have served this country out of the way so I could get some bottled water from their picnic that I didn't even pay to attend. God bless America but she stole the B from "bless" and put it in front of ert. And I'm glad I held off the sauce, cuz I would've most likely embarrassed myself in front of people who think my dad's some great guy. Which is true, nowadays. If someone would've said that to me twenty years ago I would've thought they were nuts. Check that, people...I did embarrass myself. I am a lousy player of horseshoes. Blame it on the sobriety. Fast-forward to the blind auction toward the end of the festivities. And no, they were not auctioning off Stevie Wonder and Helen Keller (though I woulda bid on some Stevie). A bunch of decent stuff wrapped up in newspaper that people placed bids for, to raise funds for the family of one of their members who got sent to some bullshit 3rd world nation because this president is obsessed with making this country look as if we're too big for our britches. Supposedly, Pop Daddy was told to drive the price of stuff up by outbidding people. It's amazing that he only paid $45 for a desk lamp and didn't get stuck holding the cane for anything else in that auction. If I coulda got $45 bucks for some new sneakers in junior high that would've been nice. But I can't complain about yesterday...he got me in and gave me a few bucks, and I really just need to leave the past where it belongs. All in all, it was not a bad day. Wore a shirt that hopefully would even out my tan on my arms burnt the shit outta my shoulders and biceps, but I got some quality time with dad and my aunt and uncle, with people who really like him and a cause that keeps him occupied. That's really the important part, ya know? Hope yer all havin' awesome weekends; I know I am...now I have to go work on my mad wicked go-kart skillz (cuz they're that wicked, they get plural with a z) so I can run laps around hailey some day. Peace homies. |
| It's a slow day, Jess still hasn't returned my text, and I'm hella bored, so I guess it's time to divulge some personal info that may answer some questions or promote some healthy dialogue. So here's a serious entry. Well, they're all serious; this one is just less fun. I will be 33 on July 31st. Not many people close to me know that date, and I don't make that big a deal out of it. Too many letdowns. In fact, when I was turning 30, I blacked the date out on every calendar I saw. Until yesterday, my apartment hasn't had electricity for almost 3 months. It's been interesting to say the least. I wear my 18 year old brother's hand-me-ups. I have expensive taste and no budget. I was named MVP of the wrestling team as a freshman in high school. And I weigh about the same now as I did back then, only I lack pretty much all the upper-body strength I had back then. I also stopped growing at 14. 2007 was a very bad year that saw me spending a week in a mental ward looney bin cuckoo's nest behavioral health unit, voluntarily, in an undisclosed location. For a variety of reasons, too many to get into today, if ever. I mainly went because I had no one left to talk to and I was sick of feeling my pain with no one to share it with. I usually eat once a day, because that's all I need. I am not afraid of wearing pink or kicking your ass for mocking it. I got summoned to jury duty next month for the first time in my life. Fuck that. I love hip-hop music, but 90% of it is bullshit. The first concert I ever saw was The Monkees with Weird Al Yankovic opening. It was 1986. I was 11 and it was while I was visiting my late aunt in Conneticuit. I have spoken to the woman that raised me perhaps 4 times since I moved out the day before I graduated high school. I've never done any kind of drug besides pot. It never did much for me. But I used to abuse OTC drugs almost daily just to try to get some sleep. I'm too smart for my own good. I've broken many bones. Mine and some belonging to other people. I had the lowest voice in my high school's chorus. I had one of the first cell phones capable of text messaging and it was annoying. Now it's my primary source of communication. Thanks for sitting through this mess. Help yourself to your favorite vice and go youtube my new favorite song, "Handlebars" by Flobots. And make sure it's the video with the kids in it. The images and lyrics are a total reminder that this country is a fucking mess and the U.S. needs to mind its own business. But it's a catchy as hell tune. Go do that now. I've got other shit to get my worry on over. |
| As usual, my dad calls me last night after 7 to tell me he's stopping by "around 11 tomorrow morning". That's cool because 11am sounds a lot more manageable than 9am (my semi-normal wake-up and crawl into life time) and buys me a little more time to neaten and not make my place look or smell like a frat house. But this is my dad and his clock we're talking about. So to the right side of 10:30 on my clock this morning, as I'm finishing up in the bathroom, I hear the familiar rap-and-struggle with the screen door of Papa B. You must be kidding me, right? But two cartons of smokes will easily lead just about anything to the land of forgiveness (except messing with my stereo...you under no uncertain circumstances ever touch my beats...y'all been warned ) so we sat and shot the shit for a little while and got caught up. We made plans to hang out this saturday at his Amvets Post's family picnic. Good times.Now, what else happened today? Oh, not a whole lot really but the sun coming out. I actually beat the sun and risked the melting a few lingering raindrops might cause upon my supermodel-worthy tanned complexion, and succeeded on becoming the best non-boyfriend in the world (and guys, just because I set the bar a little higher today, doesn't mean you have to go hatin' the playa and not the game). I came with teeth. I came with body armor. I came with valor. I came prepared and determined. And what did I learn from this? Us Leos are stubborn as all-get-out when it comes to making decisions. Grabbed my dew and paper. Jess kinda shot me a look and I flashed the remnants of the evil grin leftover from yesterday and she said "What?" kinda good-sarcastically. Then I whipped out the lines of the millenium: "I know exactly what will cheer you up, and I'm in just about no position to take no for an answer." And if you think those were the big guns, then turn your computer off, walk away into your kitchen, grab a hammer and pound the back of your hand repeatedly until you begin to hallucinate, because you won't understand the magnitude of this groundbreaking operation. "What's that?" she asked with a healthy dose of skepticism. I rolled out of my mouth "I'm about to head down to Dairy Queen and buy you your favorite sundae, because ice cream cheers everybody up." She laughed. B-1, CWC-0. Then the two Leo gunslingers faced off. CWC: "No, you don't have to do that." me: "I know. But I want to." (a few back and forth "duck season-wabbit season" yes-nos were exchanged) me: "I'm not taking no for an answer. Hot fudge? Strawberry? Caramel? What's your favorite?" Then she hands me back my change, and there's an extra quarter in the little change conveyor. "Bonus! Now I can upsize it to a large!" She laughed. And then she gave me the typical Leo runaround, the kind I usually gave my sister when I'd go to a concert with her and her bitchy friends and she sends me the "where r u" text an hour after I ditch them...my reply was usually "at the concert". CWC: "Anything with ice cream." Boy did I set myself up for that one. I'll give her a point for that. B-1, CWC-1. In between customers, she's taunting me to boot! Telling me how she's ketting a kick out of watching me stand there. I respond by saying I'm having a blast and I'm not going anywhere. She jokes that she'll be there 'til 4pm (it's shortly after 1). I tell her I've got all day and threaten to pull up a cart, hop in and read a newspaper. She laughs. B-2, CWC-1. Customers may come and go, but B hangs in there. She's taking digs now at my memory. Digs about jobs. Digs about anything she can pull out of that bag of tricks. Telling me how stubborn she is. I remind her that I'm very stubborn too. I'm sensing stalemate and at this point I'll take my points and call it a moral victory. Until I finally broke her into submission. CWC: "Basically anything but banana." me: "I'll be right back." I was out the door so fast I think time began to reverse. You'd think Superman had grabbed the world and stopped its rotation. So what did I get her? Oh my the options. I had to pick smart. Nothing plain; that's boring. Maybe throw some sprinkles on it? No nuts...wouldn't be sure if she was allergic or not. Ugh. Thankfully the twits behind the counter were either slower than Clinton pulling out of the Democratic race, or flat-out ignoring the short kid with the $20 in his hand, bcause this decision-making process is turning out to be more than a chore. All of the sudden, lo and behold, what's that on the menuboard? Oooooh...waffle bowl sundaes...JACKPOT!! Ummm yes, this is to go...one Chocolate-covered Strawberry Waffle Bowl Sunday...with extra strawberries (cuz when I go, I go big). Genius! I'm back at The Wall, and all signs are good because the parking lot is damn near empty. I'm just praying that she hadn't gone into hiding, cuz I don't eat ice cream much. But there she is, slightly surprised that I actually would do this for her. Moreso impressed. Then we talked for at least a good half-hour, maybe more. I lost total track of time during the experience. Thankfully I didn't lose any bodily functions. And we talked about a lot of stuff. Her kids, our landlords, school districts, our apartments...adult stuff. It was kinda nice. Really nice. Tonight she's going to the airport to pick up her mom, then tomorrow taking her mom and one of her sons back to the airport so he can spend a week down in Miami. So I'm really not sure if she'll have time for me and I wouldn't blame her. The ball, I believe, is in her court, and if she manages to fit me in in the next two days, then I will consider my little move today a solid step in the right direction. Then I ran a few errands, ate some chilidogs for lunch, debated the legitamacy of my victory in a bet with Nicole over our playing phone tag the last few days (she said I never answer when she calls...I said she never answers when I call her...she replied I never call her at all...touche. So I bet her a quarter over IM that when I call her later she won't answer...she raised it to fifty cents...but we never specified when "later" was so I left her a voicemail this morning saying she owed me fifty cents and she whined saying if I had called yesterday she definitely would have answered. I know...sometimes I can play dirty ).That's all I got for ya today. Tomorrow, in a very special "ABC After-School blog entry" webisode, I may have an embarrassing tale of a secret personal woe and one man's will to overcome his stupidity and complete lack of remembering the difference between the numbers 1 and 2 in his mixed-up excuse of a brain. But for now, y'all get to have some ice cream on me for being so good and making it to the end of this long-winded treatsie of my day so far. Enjoy!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79kSQ9M0pVk http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DsP2TheK0iQ Very chick-friendly, I know, but you'll have that. Later. |
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