Not Many Given Sundays

Well I don't know how much longer I'll be here writing to you all.

Why am I saying this? Well I opened up my mailbox this morning and found what appeared to be a very important envelope. It even had my name on it. On this envelope was some very shocking information, I think I've been drafted. It says it right here. I don't even have to open it, it's right on the envelope. It has my name on it, and it says I've been drafted. And not just by anyone but by the NFL! However, like all things there's a catch. If I do sign up I get a free windbreaker from whichever team I decide to let draft me.

This really puts me in one of the most historic free agent situations ever. Not only do I get to pick the team that drafts me I get a free windbreaker and a 0% interest credit card for the next twelve months!

This is all so exciting, I haven't even opened the envelope yet. If things are this exciting on the outside well than the inside of the envelope is probably lined with candy and money.

Suffice to say, this really has taken me by surprise. I don't remember being scouted by any professional sports teams. Hey I don't even remember playing football! I hope that doesn't affect my contract situation.

Football, football, let's see.... that's the one with a racket right?

Saturday In the Park

I came into this world with 10 fingers, and that's exactly how I plan on leaving it.

Saturday was meant to be no walk in the park. Ironically, as I walked into the building Chicago's "Saturday In the Park" was playing on the sound system.

However, don't let me overdramatize. I was supposed to work today however the powers that be switched me from my usual designation to work in the deli. Now there's nothing wrong with a deli, if you know anything at all about one. I don't even buy things from a deli so how would I be a good person to work in one? After all they house the big slicers that could inevitably cut each and every one of my fingers off.

As if the timing was no short of perfect I was listing off my reasons of protest about working back there when one of the guys comes over from the meat department with paperwork that had to be signed because he nearly sliced his own finger off the day before. As I see this, I felt like making a mad dash for the international border. I wondered if there was any statute of limitations for shirking one's employment duties. If there was any, I wondered how long it would be before I could return to my native country.

I thought about living life on the run, the idea seemed hardly appealing to me. So I had to face my fears and go to work. Luckily those around sensed my apprehension, giving me the duties of portioning out potato salad, and putting price stickers on merchandize. I dodged the big one. Thankfully.

At the end of my day I took my two hands and ten fingers, all of which still attached to my person, and walked out the door and went home.

Back to the Feature

Well I believe I've used up my one sick day for 2007. At least twice now. So that means I'm well into my allotment of sick days from 2008. Which means I've nearly used up all of my sick days for this decade. I even had to feign illness to use it.

My rigid schedule of sick days worried me for a bit, but I don't think I called in during 2002, so I think I can borrow from that year and I'll be okay.

In case you were interested the sick day count is: zero from 2002, two from 2003, two from 2004, one from 2005, one from 2006 and two from 2007.

So in keeping up with my one sick day per year program I should keep myself as healthy as possible until 2011.

I'm not sure if it's the mark of a good employee but every time I'm gone away from the job for two or more days I feel like I need to be retrained. Maybe it's not me and maybe it's the uninteresting system of codes and my wanton disregard for working with other people. So maybe I lied, I'd say in all honesty that a third of it has to do with me.

Keeping up with the whole theme of dishonesty in writing, that whole above paragraph might not even be true. I just wanted to use the word "wanton" in a sentence. Everybody has those killer "gotta use these in a sentence words" that they would lie, kill or steal so they could use them to impress others.

Verbiage is cool like that.

Takin' It to the Streets

With all that has gone on lately I'm not sure that if I have a lot of growing up to do or not. Given the recent course of my life I don't really think I'm growing up any, no matter how hard I'd like to. So I'm deciding to buck the trend.

It's not that I'm the most mature person in the world, because I'm not. I'm not even in the top 5 billion. However lately I'd gotten caught up in things like finding a place to live and looking for a mundane grown up job. I'd really hate for myself to lose sight of the fact that I'm usually the most immature person I know. It's scary, scary like forgetting to save your teeth for the tooth fairy. Scary and sudden. I didn't want to become star struck by a suprise wave of maturity like that.

So yesterday, despite recent events I did the best thing I could think of. I hit the road. No, not in the popular sense of the modern coming of age road trip. That would be much to hard to complete in say 45 minutes. But I did go to Target, and I did do nearly every spontaneous childlike thing I could think of. I sat in as many bean bag chairs I could find, tried throwing frisbees (they come in cardboard, mostly for reasons like this) and I bought a rubber band ball.

I wanted to dissect the thing. I find it hard to believe that this object is made purely of rubber bands. I can't bring myself to take this thing apart though, it's like a simple marvel of science. So intricate, yet it is rubber bands. Lots of them. Curiosity has been plaguing me however. Is there some sort of ball in the middle? Can it be that this thing is 100% rubber band? Maybe they're tied into some complex not.

I know I will succumb to dismantling this thing, after all it was only two dollars. If I want to marvel at it's complexity I can just buy more. Or even spend a year and a half trying to construct one.

Yeah maybe I don't need to grow up as much as I thought I do.

If I wanted to escape from everything I think I've started down the right road.

The Song Remains the Same

I woke up the entire experience felt like some sort of dream. In a way it kind of was. Nearly the entire scenario of moving had been set in my mind, but hadn't been enacted physically. In essence it was a dream, a thought. Nobody went anywhere, when I woke up this morning I was in the same place I always was.

It honestly doesn't irk me as much as it did the day before. Since I still am right where I was all along only minor adjustments had to be made. No mail had to be forwarded, my phone calls still come to the same place, and I know exactly how hot my shower is. Today feels a bit more like acceptance, in stark contrast to yesterday's fantastic bouts of denial.

In reality half the summer has gone by and a lot of things have come full circle. I never did get a better job, I still bore myself stupid while working for peanuts. And I still live under the same roof. These things don't bother me as much as they used to, even if "used to" means a mere 24 hours ago, since the last two months have turned full circle something else will cycle through again.

One thing really bothers me and that's time. I know that in the areas of living arrangements and employment I've gone nowhere. Or to put it better, these elements of my life picked up speed and formed a tornado, picking me up spinning me around for several weeks and somehow remarkable plopping me back down exactly where I was standing.

Half the summer is gone, most of it was spent waiting for things that have disappeared and that I really no longer care about. I should have taken pictures and brought home souvenirs.

Falling Down

The roof caved in today. After weeks of hard preparation. Weeks that felt like months. The move is off, there will be no zero hour. The pieces just couldn't fit together. Maybe this was insurmountable from the beginning, maybe it was too much like being asked to fit a square peg through a round hole in about three seconds time.

I'll live, I'm sure of that. One of my life's philosophies in life is what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. It's a pretty good philosophy, if it ever fails I'll die from it so therefore I really wouldn't notice it much.

Either way, for those that are curious and because I just really like to document things this does have a reason. So, this moving project was practically doomed from the start. The start of this was about five or six months ago. I wasn't even involved with this way back then. There were 3 friends of mine, ones I know well enough, searching for their own apartment. I'm not sure why it took them so many months to make any head way, I didn't get involved until June when my friend Jered backed out. For the last several months I myself had been eager to find a place to live. I have this constant feeling that I'm some sort of lost boy that will just never grow up as long as I live in this house. I was eager to move anywhere.

I never moved out for college, I've always been a commuter. That always makes it feel like high school, no matter how many hours you work or how many credit hours you are taking, it just has that high school feeling. So when a spot opened up with my other two friends I jumped right in on the opportunity. At first everything got off the ground quickly. We turned in our application and received good word back in no time. We even bought a couch, a behemoth of a couch. A three piece sectional that require two large vehicles to move. A nice couch, not that I really ever got a chance to use it. Sure I sat on it, but never used it. You know, in the sense that someone would use their own couch. To really stretch out on, I never quite got the moment for that.

I've said it before but I'll say it again, Edward Norton's character had the right idea at the beginning of Fight Club. Once you pick out your couch everything else falls into place. Either that was it or something else to that effect. And everything else did seem to fall into place. We had everything, even a remarkable retro toaster.

The other shoe drops though. Shoes drop all the time. In that metaphorical ominous way. It's a battle to keep roommates apparently, because in this case they drop like flies or shoes. We lost one last week, as I had mentioned previously. It wasn't right to convince someone to stay in a situation that they didn't feel comfortable with so the only thing we could do is let the guy go, even if it did leave us in the lurch. We were down to two, and I wasn't even one of the "original three" that had planned this.

We found somebody else quickly, probably too quickly. As I feel guilty in making this person feel rushed so that we could all be in by the first of the month. Moving is too big for rushed thinking. There's a lot more to where you live than it just being a place to sleep. Our new third roommate rightly decided that he wasn't right for this living situation. I had to agree with him, we all have our needs and it isn't fair to force somebody into a situation that won't work for them. Especially when it's one like this, one with a lease. Where if it's bad that one year could end up feeling like a one year prison sentence. As friends we decided that we couldn't do that to ourselves.

So that's how it ended. Before things even took off. For the better? Maybe, it's good that differences were sorted out before we entered into any binding agreement. Am I disappointed? Oh yes, I felt as if somebody took Christmas away. I had been all packed for two weeks. I sit here typing this in a room full of boxes. Ones that I'll have to start emptying tomorrow as I try to get my life back on track. I'm probably the most disappointed one of all, I'll admit that. I was the most ready, most excited and I felt that the timing in my life was definitely perfect for this. Everything happens for a reason supposedly, I'm not quite sure if I believe that or in signs either, but apparently in this case it holds true. With metaphorical shoes dropping all over the place the writing is on the wall. Someday I can pack back up and try this again.

I gave my mom back the toaster, she wouldn't accept it. I told her I didn't want to see it right now, because somehow I believe a toaster can depress me. So she's hiding it in a closet somewhere, probably for the next time this happens. I didn't want to come back down from the cloud I was on, but apparently this is life.

That was a long post. If you're reading this bottom part and you read the rest. Go get your self a cookie, you deserve it.

Life and Limb

I think I'll add amputation to my list of fears.

Maybe instead of risking life and limb I'll just risk life. I'd rather have limbs. So if that means less life and more limbs well that's just the risk I'll have to take. After all, "Live fast die young, leave a good looking corpse with limbs."

When I think limbs I mostly think arms. I'd rather not lose an arm or two. They're handy for hands. Plus, swinging them around is just great. You try waving without using your arm, now that's a task I tell you.

Legs are a whole other story. It would probably require a second entry.

So don't hesitate, refuse to amputate.

Keeping in theme with today's entry, I realized that with all of my preparations to move I have wished the month of July away. July is a great month. It's really been a bit rainy compared to June so in some regards I really don't have any regrets about wishing for time to go by faster.

I guess summer vacation doesn't carry the same cache it used to.

PS. In case you were wondering, my list of fears include: snakes, the dark and amputation.

Helter Shelter

I did get to see my new apartment today. Here we are about nine days from zero hour or as I should say roughly some two hundred hours from zero hour since I'm using the "hour" as a method of time measurement. I suppose it's better than saying a "tenth of a month" or "I'll be moving in some 12,000 minutes." The bigger the number the harder the fact is to swallow so maybe I'll just stick with nine days.

Although "zero hour" is a neat thing to say.

Anyway, I wasn't exactly in love with the place. Although a lot of that could have had something to do with the fact that they weren't done fixing it up yet and the power was off. However they seem to have me convinced that power will in fact be on when I move there. So right off the bat, that's a plus.

Saying I don't love this place might be a bit harsh, I do like it a lot. Maybe even as more than a friend. Okay, I kid. You can't like something that's four walls and a ceiling. That's crazy talk.

The place is nice, very spacious. More closets than the space shuttle. A living room you could hold the super bowl in (However parking would be a nightmare for such an event). The stove is big and it might even get used at some point. I'm also pleased that the refrigerator is also a two second walk from my room.

We did experience some roommate drama already. This move has definitely had it's moments of peril. One of the people I was going to live with decided that he wasn't going to be able to afford our cheaply fun lifestyle. However When there's a problem the solution is sometimes so close at hand that it can be a miracle. We found another roommate who is a good friend and needed a place to live. So apparently a friend in need is a friend indeed.

Okay that pun was so bad you could hear a pin drop, but God help me I just love to speak in cliches.

You can stop with the silence now I promise I'm done.

Man In a Box

There's little parallels between fiction and real life that I never got. One of those is parking tickets. On television characters can amass hundreds and even thousands of dollars in unpaid parking tickets which always causes some untimely dilemma. Can this happen in real life? Is it a city thing?

I had a parking ticket once, $20 for parking in front of my own residence after 2 AM and on the wrong side of the street. It was funny because it was inconvenient. Maybe there's a strange subculture of people who wish for cars to be parked only a certain way.

Remember that time on Fresh Prince of Bel Air that Will let Jazz borrow his car and amass two thousand dollars worth of parking tickets? Me too, well I mostly remember it because I'm watching this saga unfold in front of me on TV right now.

My attention span is much too short these days. I blame the people in the box. Why must things that characters have done thousands of times in reruns be so captivating?

Mind control.

In all seriousness I ran out of alternatives. I jumped the gun on this moving thing and packed up all of my books.... some two weeks ago.

Oh look Uncle Phil just kicked Jazz out.

It's hilarious because we expect it.

Yes, I feel that brainy gray matter turning straight into Jell-o.

Live and Alive

You may recall that a couple weeks ago I attempted to see a band my friends are in perform. You may have laughed when I documented that I didn't make it there on time and walked in the door just as their show was ending. Well tonight they played again and went to great lengths to make sure that I actually saw this performance. I got in for free, that was pretty cool. I walk in, sit with some friends and one of the staff approaches me and asks to see my "bracelet of admission" I explained that I didn't have one. They requested that I pay for one, so I go to Jered the drummer and say "hey how do I not pay two dollars?" And I was in just like that.

It pays to have connections in this town.

The show itself was pretty good. The brand of music isn't entirely identical to my taste but they're growing quite proficient at it. Their stage presence is coming along nicely too.

Eleven of my coworkers were there. That was a bit daunting. Yeah I like the people I work with but seeing them en masse out of uniform can be frightening. All conversations drift back toward work related subjects. I'd much rather talk about anything else.

It's kind of disheartening when the younger generation just doesn't get it when you yell "play Freebird!"

But then again I say that to everybody.

For Those Keeping Score At Home

For Those Keeping Score At Home
To combat boredom at work I concocted a new game at my station. For starters I pick up spare change out of boredom.. Today I decided to bounce it off of the podium and see where it lands on the keyboard. Depending on where it lands you get various amounts of points. Think of it as a skeeball for your keyboard. I'm even working on a home version. The gray keys were worth 10 points and the blue ones were worth 70, as there are a lot more gray keys than any other. This is what my life has come down to, spending my days counting the number of different colored keys on a keyboard. There are seven orange keys, in case you were interested. I played seventeen rounds of my new game. It became addicting. I almost had to ignore customers that were trying to interrupt my turn, especially during a hot streak. Once you really get the skill down the challenge is to see how far back you can stand and still bounce onto the keyboard accurately. And yeah, if this doesn't sound too exciting, well you're right. Because it only made four hours feel like three.

My mother bought a toaster for my apartment. It looks just like the brave little one. It's delightful.

My Life As a Collection of Bottles

So I've been back to work for two days. I don't particularly enjoy it. I try to tell myself that there must be at least one redeeming thing about my job. There really isn't. Well nothing work related anyway. You see there are good things, I do socialize, I run away and invent projects that don't have anything to do with work at all. I try not to look at the clock for fear that time will go by too slowly. That can't be good. Maybe I need to change my workplace philosophy, I'm merely focusing on surviving. Surviving isn't bad, if you succeed at surviving you always come out alive. That being said I want more challenges than waiting for the end of the day to come. When that's your only challenge it becomes tougher than you think.

Plus I did find a great new place to nap undetected.

However I don't want this post to sound depressing and emo-rific. After all I did get to work with dirty, smelly empty bottles today.

After several hours I become just as dirty, smelly and empty.

Empty because after all, I get the satisfaction of sorting other people's empty bottles. Bottles that I didn't even get the pleasure of emptying myself.

Irony is harsh, hell I don't even know if that is irony. That's one for the Irony police to solve.

From the Frying Pan Back Into the Fire

Well that's not entirely accurate. By frying pan I mean vacation and fire I mean work. It wasn't the easiest most carefree and laid back vacation either. I spent many hours packing up just about everything I own so I can move in a couple weeks. It was the last bit of spare time that I knew I would have before the end of the month.

The vacation was also marred by my inability to land a second of better job. I'm back at square one perhaps but it's never as bad as I thought it was. As I type this I think I said the same exact thing in different words on Wednesday. I do have to keep motivating myself to look for jobs though. I can rely on my current job but I really shouldn't keep falling back on it. I like being employed but at the same time I wish it wasn't there. I depend on that job too much.

Hilariously or Ironically, to be more appropriate, isn't that really what jobs are for?

Maybe I'm wrong, I think I'm depending on my job too much based on income and not looking for something I'd rather be doing. That would explain why there is no feeling of satisfaction in doing what I do.

On the flip side, a lot of good came out of this weekend. A lot of good.

Toast of the Atom

I didn't know what to say to the drunk man when he asked me how to get into his house.

I don't know how to get into the drunk man's house. Well that's not true. I'm sure if I actually thought about it I could have come up with an answer. I just didn't want to think about it. It was dark and I just wanted to get home. I was so close, just a few blocks. It's just that the situation was so compelling, watching a drunk man trying to scale his garage door, that I just couldn't look away.

I didn't want to become a player in this spectacle. I was fine with watching from my sideline on the sidewalk, barely visible out of sight from the street light. He saw me though, probably thought I was somebody I knew. I'm pretty sure that's why he called me "Chuck." He asked me how to get in, in these awkward situations I'm not quick enough for a response. This isn't like normal conversation. I really don't have a tactic for this kind of social situation.

So I stood there, letting a short and barely audible noise come from my mouth. Too short to sound like any specific syllable. After all, I wanted no part in this. I just thought that the site of a drunk man trying to climb his garage door in an attempt to get into his own house was hilarious. I was relieved when his wife yelled at him to use the front door. It would have seemed like a logical move in the first place.

Some days I'm really not sure why I haven't clawed my way out of this place. Here it is, summer. One of the most beautiful months of the year and so far I can say that I've spent some time blogging. Sometimes a vacation can be horrendous. I should really do something, however in this area there's nary an activity to do. So far my favorite (and by favorite I should really say "most frequent") has been packing things into boxes and storage bins. I've become quite good at it. A bit too good. I have to remind myself that the move is still over two weeks away and I might need things during that time.

So what, so it's a bit too early to pack my pillow. I get points for being excited right?

Then there's money, summer activities usually require this. Yeah all of my spare money is being thrown into things I never thought I would have to buy. Trust me I've been taking things like towels for granted. You can't even steal towels from hotels anymore. They actually check up on that kind of thing. It's good, because stealing towels is like a gateway crime. One week you would be stealing towels, the next it's cars. This whole world is a slippery slope.

Atoms really have nothing to do with this post. I didn't split one today, chances are I probably won't tomorrow. Hats off to our friend the atom anyway.

Untitled Wednesday Post

Noteworthy? Not really.

Here's the miscellaneous.

I didn't get the job I was going for. I find myself under-employed, but still employed none the less. There's no reason in being upset about things. There's always more out there. I just can't become complacent in where I am and keep searching. Otherwise I'll end up breaking the record for most consecutive years of working in a grocery store. I can't have that. I'll wind up tearing out all my hair through frustration and I'll be a hapless old man, a bald one at that.

Things I've done on vacation, well for starters I've watched some television. I've taken walks as well. I haven't barbecued anything yet. That is sort of suprising. It seems like every time I turn around I'm paying my cell phone bill. Sprint better build a monument of me for that. I'm packing, as I'm less than three weeks away from moving. There's nothing like categorizing your life and putting it into boxes. Heavy stuff here, breakable stuff there. So that's what the last twenty four years have been about. I need to drink less soda and maybe wake up before the crack of noon.I did however make the perfect french toast.

Yes, I know it's not exactly splitting the atom. No, that will happen Thursday.

Attack of the Flies

It's the next day.

There's no giants to fight today just flies. I've just become witness to a massive infestation. It's really only eight flies. However I think when you encounter any more than two insects in your own home it should be considered an invasion of "massive" proportions. They're large flies, about the size of a pencil eraser. I wonder if they're the kind that live for only twenty four hours, I sure hope so. I've swatted several, but they remain elusive. They're repopulating, I'm not sure where or even how. I've never been one to study the biology of insects. They're probably having a great big orgy right in front of the lamp. The same lamp I use to read. It would almost make me feel violated to use that same lamp to read, but then again I don't have to because I just can't envision how flies "do the nasty." I do wish one thing though, I wish for fly contraceptives. Same goes for ants. I think their glory days of wild insect sex and violating my lamp have gone on long enough.

I've done everything I can think of, I've opened the window and showed them the outside. I told them "outside there are more flies and possibly even more lamps. They refuse to listen as I'm sure English isn't their first language. I'm just a big goofy giant waving at them while spouting a vast noise of gibberish. It's probably funny to them. The buzzing is most likely fly laughter. They again lose interest in me and go back to making more flies.

I'm at a loss as for what to do here. Maybe I'll sleep outside and take my chances with skunks, frogs and forest creatures.

Post Script. I still can't get that title box to work. Ho Hum. After long deliberation I think I'm winning my battle against that title box.

Now with Title

It's hot enough these days that you can nearly feel yourself melting, ever so slowly shrinking from all the heat that is radiating. I really had nothing better to do today than melt, shrink or watch television. I did run out of hawaiian punch though. That prompted a pilgrimage to the air conditioned grocery store. What followed was a quest to experience artificial weather. Not the best artificial weather, but merely the better kind. These days doing the best takes more motivation than usual, and that's hard now with the spirit all melted and shrunken.

Despite the lack of motivation I did summon up the ability to go down to the office of my local cable carrier to debate this month's bill. The fact that the bill they sent me was asking twice what they usually stick out their hand for was enough to get me going into that building and giving them a nice old fashioned "this is unfair" rant. That motivated me more than the quest for air conditioning. Although the building itself was airconditioned so that was a plus. If I walked out of this victorious I'd have to call it a win-win.

Their reason for the sharp increase was that I had failed to pay for the previous month's services. I am quite the diligent bill payer and try my best to handle my own finances, so I came armed with my previous two month's bank statements. June's statement said "yes" I did pay that bill. I bring two because I like my arguments to have a hell of a lot of insurance. I present these facts to them. They're somewhat impressed by this. All of those excuses that customer service people throw at you suddenly went out the window, they were willing to find out what was going on. However their help wasn't as expedient as I wanted it to be, their process was a bit more bureaucratic for that. An inquiry had to be made.

I just knew that the check I had written last month had to be sitting back there somewhere. Somebody probably was using it as a coaster for their margarita. I know that behind every closed door there is some sort of party going on. It must happen in all these institutions. At the counter everything is all prim, proper and all matter of fact, but behind that door that says private it's like Cinco de Mayo at the frat house. I wanted to see where this was going, but they said they'd call me. So I finally went on my way.

At home it's much too hot to do anything. It's one of what feels like six days or fewer in New York state where that actually happens. I pop "The Burbs" into my DVD player. Today feels like the perfect day for that. A listless, dull but hot summer day where nothing happens. It's perfect for a movie where the protagonists are pretty much succumbing to the effects of the same thing. I watch it wondering why my neighborhood isn't like that. Maybe we do have crazy Vietnam vets with comical espionage abilities and I just don't know it. Nobody really wanders the streets handing out brownies from a platter around here. It's a nice neighborhood but there just isn't that high level of hospitality.

I do wish I had neighbors that drove their garbage to the curb, just so I could have something to watch after dusk. I don't know what goes on in people's basements and sadly I have no desire to. I do sometimes wonder if my house is the suspicious house on the block though. I wonder if people think I'm strange for walking about at midnight in the foggy haze because there was nothing good on at that hour. That would explain why nobody was giving me brownies.

As the movie ended I got my phone call from my cable and internet provider. I don't mention their name here because I fear some cryptic Orwellian type of censorship. I wonder if some goateed man sits in a large office watching a big screen of everything written on "his" internet. I bet they'd love to squash some blogger who's spending his evening complaining about their billing tactics rather than enjoying his "fast and amazing" internet service. But anyways, they found their error. Yes it was indeed their error. They accidentally credited somebody elses account with my check. Oh how I'd love to be the lucky sap who got to watch television on my dime.

I'm sure there will be more to come from this soap box. The spirit might have shrunk in the summer sun a little but hasn't completely melted. Those Klondike bars that I bought on my airconditioned pilgrimage didn't fare as well though, sadly.

Support Your Local Naught

Philanthropy is an odd thing.

This weekend was marked by an odd exercise of futility. I have some friends that have formed a band. I'm not really sure if they're good and once you read this post, you'll know why I haven't fully formed an opinion on them. They had one prior gig some months ago. That time I was there, it was populated mostly by all the bored twelve year olds in town that could scrape together three dollars. It was decent enough for me to say "well if they ever play in public again I'm sure I'll go." And that was that. Well this weekend marked show number two. It had been several months so I was eager to go. Saturday rolls around and after a various number of maladies and an empty gas tank I arrive at the venue rather late. I open the door and as soon as I hand my three dollars for admission the band stops playing. Almost immediately as I walk in the door the concert ends. My entrance did not go unnnoticed, several people I know pop up and tell me that I was just in time to miss the whole thing.

I was quite bummed, I paid three dollars to watch my friends put instruments into the trunks of their cars. I didn't exactly feel cheated, I felt rather noble. I felt stately, like a rich patron of the arts. It's as if I opened the door and said "Oh look a local rock band played here, I should give them three dollars." That sounds better with that early twentieth century rich man's voice that I said it with in my head. Much like the Monopoly man. I'm sure it's something that would come up in a conversation between the Monopoly man and the man from Stratego.

I feel strangely amused by things that should make me bitter. This was hardly a big deal anyway. My "Patron of the arts" attitude I've strutted around with through all of this easily diminishes when I start to think that it was only three dollars. Giving up those three dollars only means three less trips around the dollar menu.

On an even lighter note, I'm watching Three's Company. I just love the implausibility of sitcoms. Since when do psychiatrists make house calls? Especially when it's not even to the patient's house but some other acquaintances. The fact that they only do this so the psychiatrist can be mistaken as a prostitute only makes me smile a little. On the implausibility scale I rank it a 9/10.

An implausibility scale, why that's just about as plausible as a prostitute making house calls.

Don't prostitutes have cubicles by now? Corner offices even?

Live What?

So today I'm surfing through my eighteen hundred and sixty-three channels and I run across this large concert called "Live Earth" okay that sounds delightfully innocuous enough. As I gather more evidence the entire thing just puzzles me. Its a concert event that raises awareness about the climate change! That doesn't strike me as very appealing on any scale. It's like lining up twenty artists to tell you whether or not to wear a jacket, which is basically the same thing your mother would do every day when you were a kid.

So now it sounds about as interesting as watching paint dry. Or in this case environmentally friendly organic paint that comes in a recyclable paint can. You know the kind of paint that will not make the temperature rise a sixth of a degree in the next decade.

I start watching this, mostly because the environmentally unfriendly batteries in my remote control seem to be dying. I start to see signs pop up on the stage about buying energy efficient appliances. This thing is like a really expensive Best Buy commercial. Or worst yet it's a gigantic charity concert whose primary goal is basically to tell you not to leave your refrigerator door open.

Or maybe it's a lavish attempt to launch Al Gore into a very compelling career as a master of ceremonies.

If they can have charity concerts that promote earth friendly lightbulbs maybe I can have a concert festival launched to save crushed ping pong balls from being thrown into the garbage can. Maybe the Foo Fighters will come to that one too.

I like earth, I like the environment. I even kind of like the temperature the way it is, and if it changed a sixth of a degree I'd be pretty pissed too. But having all these celebrities pander to me like this makes me want to drive a brand new Prius into a wall.

The Couch Trip

Some things sneak up on you like a lion, and then there's "five year day." It doesn't sound familiar to you? Well maybe I should explain. This day isn't everybody's day, this one pretty much belongs to me. It's not something you plan parties for or even get any cards for. I haven't been dreaming about it for weeks, and I didn't even realize it when I got up this morning. Today is my five year day. I've said that already? I know I have. Today marks the fifth anniversary of me getting my job at the store. In any business that is a long time, but in a grocery store that is at least two or three lifetimes.

Unsuprisingly there was little fanfare. Nobody knew about it until I said anything. Once I did people both congratulated me and said they felt sorry for me at the same time. Working four years at what was supposed to be your summer job isn't bad, it's pretty industrious really. But five years? That's crossing the threshold into loserdom.

My life lately has been filled with preparations for the big move. The one coming one month from today. One of my roommates to be called me earlier and gave me a lead on a sectional couch that was for sale. I told her I had to work, you know it's "five year day." Somehow we talked my boss into letting me get two hours of "five year day" off so I could go look at this glorious piece of furniture. I mean after all once you choose your couch everything after it just kind of comes together. I think Edward Norton told me that in Fight Club.

Well we rounded up my other roommate and my first roommate's parents and hit the road. This couch proved to be some haul's worth away. A glorious couch it was indeed. We selected it without any hesitation, before realizing that there really is no easy way to transport a huge couch some thirty miles.

Afterwards we dallied around a bit, I knew I had to be back at work at 5:30, but come on it's "five year day." I was sincerely going to milk that milestone for all it was worth.

So I suggested we cruise Cortland, there are so few opportunities for the three of us to form congress and discuss things about our living situation. But how hard could it be? We've selected the couch, the hardest part in anyone's search for furniture related peace.

We wound up at A&W, for some fine roadside cuisine. It should be said Korean car manufacturers never factored in American drive-in restaurants when designing their cars. Allison's Hyundai could barely support the window tray as it's angular shape nearly made all of our food slide off onto the ground. Nothing good can be said about how their cupholders and the size of root beer floats either.

In all the fun we lost track of time, what was supposed to be a two hour side trip quickly turned into four. I was supposed to be back at 5:30 it was now 7:00, but why panic? It's "five year day." To be fair I did call around 5:30 when we were still deciding on the couch and used the old "I'm lost in traffic in Ithaca" excuse. If you've ever been to Ithaca, NY and driven around it's mind numbing street layout you'd know that excuse has got some legs.

Much like a younger version of myself after curfew I snuck back into the store. I used the far entrance and punched in at a little used time clock at the other end of the store. I then found several empty boxes that I decided to carry in an attempt to look like I had been busy. But I really wasn't in much of a hurry anymore. If they had a problem with me being 90 minutes late their reaction probably wouldn't change much if it became two hours. I figure, hey in for a penny in for a pound. If that's even how the expression goes.

I returned, most people had actually forgotten about my earlier departure. I returned to work unscathed. I guess some things are okay on "five year day."