work

4C

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP. Every night with the techno music. I'm in no mood for this. Not now, not ever. The beat is un-changing and un-ending. 12:03am. I'll not go to bed for several more hours but it's still annoying. It's never been this loud. It's like a joke. A joke with a bass line that rattles the fixtures.

Surveying my apartment I find that it's loudest in the kitchen, but I can't pinpoint its origin. Is the music coming from that dude downstairs? I've heard him practicing blues scales on his guitar. Doesn't seem like the late-night techno type. Maybe it's the other kid on the first floor. The one that lets his newspapers pile up. Why do you even subscribe man? And how hard is it to kick them inside when you're walking in with your white Sean John coat and your jauntily tilted oversized cap?

Could be the old guy next door, but that seems unlikely. I recently found out that he's keeping track of my comings and goings, which I find slightly disconcerting. One time his medicine was accidentally delivered to my mailbox and he didn't even thank me when I gave it back. I could have sold it on the street to the young hoppers, buddy. A thank you would be nice.

I'm not sure what the story is with the people above me, but I know they like to move furniture around at three in the morning. I think I've only seen them twice. They have a very 1992 vibe about them. Maybe the music is coming from them.

I'm determined to find the source. I'm not looking for a confrontation, I just want to know where it's coming from. I re-apply my hoodie and head out for a leisurely stroll around the building. It's not coming from downstairs. I know that. I walk around to the other side, taking my sweet time, listening for any stray THUMP that might give me the answer. Nothing. I walk up to the third floor on the other side where my friend Rachel used to live. I loiter creepily in front of the front doors. Nothing. Nothing on the third floor of my side either. This is ridiculous. The source of the music has eluded me completely.

On the way back a goose hisses at me. I hate that goose.

triple two through two twenty four oh eight

Blogging. Just not feeling it right now. Forgive me if I'm terse. I think we'll start with the most important thing. There is a ghost at the Subway.



Spooky!

It was a movie rich weekend. Friday I watched In the Valley of Elah. Not as good as I wanted it to be. Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder is a helluva thing though.

Saturday morning text sent to Emily in a half-asleep haze:

"Hmmm, but sleeping is not bored for me. In fact is quite needed."

Saturday afternoon I made delicious cookies. The process was documented.

I got kinda stressed.

Here they are.

I never said it would be pretty, I only said it would be cookies.

That night Nati and I watched Shaun of the Dead, a movie I can watch any time, any place. I really like that movie.

I spent most of Sunday sitting around watching watching Project Runway. I mean, ESPN.

Tried to watch the Oscars, but maaaaan they were boring. Plus 60% of the show was devoted to showing clips of past Oscars. Quit trying so hard. "Hey! It's me! The Oscars! Remember when this happened? Do you? Remember John Wayne? Remember Bob Hope? LOVE ME DAMMIT!" The best part of the Oscars is when I left to watch Live Free or Die Hard. He killed a helicopter with a car.

No Country for Old Men won best picture. Can't say I disagree with that. I've been thinking and I'm pretty sure I've never lost anything significant in a coin toss.

News on the March

Item! How many Tomato Snacks can B. eat during an hour-long episode of Lost?


Sixteen.


All told I think I ate two tomatoes and half a baguette. My friend JenP makes these every week for Lost and I like them so much that this week she made me my own platter. Mmmmm.

Item! This is what Salt Lake looks like right now.



It's also what my lungs feel like. I have a bit of a cold, but the Valley is also suffering from an inversion, which traps the smog and suffocates us all. We need a good storm to clear it out. The hazy air makes me angry and it feels like I should be able to complain to someone, but I guess I'm part of the problem since I drive a gas-guzzling SUV.

Item! A while ago I mentioned that I'm a big fan of comic/pin-up artist Josh Howard. I contacted him by e-mail and we made arrangements for him to draw an original piece for me. He has his own characters and also does great interpretations of various pop-culture sci-fi/fantasy icons. I had a hard time deciding what to have him draw but finally it hit me like a bolt of lightning. Rosie the Riveter! I've always kind of had a thing for Rosie.


I got my piece in the mail today and I couldn't be happier. So cool. I wish I could draw curves like that.



Item! Finally, sad news out of the B. camp as the cat, Wiggie passed away on Wednesday.

19 years old! He was a great little animal. Very mellow, just liked to hang out and eavesdrop on conversations. He always watched The Wire with me, though I'm not sure if he enjoyed the show or if I was just sitting in his spot. Catch you later on down the trail buddy.

hat dance

Scotty is my oldest friend. Or rather, the friend I've had the longest. We've known each other since kindergarten, can you believe that? Anyway, if you think that Scotty doesn't love banging thunder stix together, then you are dead wrong.

obsession

McDonald's Iced Coffee. From an objective standpoint it's not that great. But I have to have it. I have to have it every day. Whoever the evil wizards are that McDonald's has in its employ, they've done their jobs.

Problem is, it's not available at every location. The only places I've found it are at the two by my work. Which is fine, but what about on weekends? I'm supposed to go clear out of my way just to get my fix?

So I called McDonalds HQ to complain that the Iced Coffee wasn't available at enough locations. They said it's up to the individual owners/operators to decide whether or not to carry it (prices and participation may vary and all that). They encouraged me to file a formal complaint, so I did. They also told me to try the caramel flavor.

I don't even know what day it is anymore

I know that it's Monday morning, but I don't know the date. Keeping track of that kind of thing is harder than you think.

I want you to take a look at this man.

How do you feel about him? Do you like him? Do you hate him? Do you want to shoot at him or headbutt him or fight him in a parking lot? Why or why not? We'll come back to this later.

The important thing is that Friday I bowled the best game of my life. For the first time in history I had the highest score. Check out that 149! Look at all those strikes and spares! What a great night.


Oh, also it was the season finale of Orangutan Island and I was moved to tears. Metaphorically. I want so badly to do my part to save the orangutans, but every organization I look up just wants money. Isn't there something I can do besides donate money? Like, play catch with them or push them around in a wheelbarrow maybe?

Not much to say about Saturday. Wait holy crap did you see the NBA dunk contest? I usually don't get into it but man, that was awesome.

I tried to watch a movie but it was so lousy I had to turn it off after forty-five minutes. I won't say which movie it was in case you liked it and I don't want you to feel like a jerk. Instead I let my inner film-geek take over and watched Citizen Kane with Roger Ebert's commentary. It was great. So fascinating! Also in case you wondering about the best smug laugh in cinema history, it's this:

Sunday I got it into my damn fool head to go to a different grocery instead of my usual reliable store. Spirit of adventure and all that. I'm walking through the parking lot and notice this guy staring at me. I keep glancing toward him thinking "Why is he looking at me? Do I know him? Did I steal his parking space? What?"

Then he yells "WHAT?" and I look back at him and he says "What are you looking at?" I had to pause to make sure I hadn't walked into a saloon circa 1876 because I didn't think people actually said that. So I looked at him again, puzzled. This angers him further. "What the f*** man! What's your f***ing problem!" I ignored him and went inside.

I grabbed a cart but realized I should probably get out of there. I didn't want to be walking out to my car with a sackful of pasta-roni and get jumped by this maniac. When I left he was a safe distance away, staring me down as I walked to my car. I got in the car and gave him a shrug. I drove off with him burning a hole with his eyes, so as I was pulling out of the parking lot I rolled down my window and gave him a wave. Then he just went nuts. Screaming so loud his voice was hoarse. Wanted me to go back so he could eff me up. He also threatened to eff up all my friends which is weird because I was alone and I don't think he knows my friends.

That brings us back to the big question: why do strangers always want to hurt me? Is it because I look so threatening? (see pic below). Is it because I'm clearly the dominant male and they want to unseat me from the throne? Seriously, I have no idea.

chop

While on my lunchbreak I caught my visage in the rear view mirror and noticed an unruly cowlick. I decided that now would be as good a time as any to get my hair shortened, and being that the sun was shining and the sky was clear I was in no hurry to return to work.

I drove around to a few of the more popular chain outlets, but the upcoming three day weekend had brought out the crowds. On my way to yet another clippery I passed an independent barber shop. It didn't have a pole, but it did have a large particle-board sign advertising a trim for five dollars less than I normally pay. Following my natural sense of adventure I pulled in to the pot-holed parking lot and went inside.

I expected to open the door and see an old man with a white coat and a dry voice. Instead there was a green-skinned black-eyed man sitting at a computer desk. The place was dark save for columns of light produced by harsh overheard fluorescents. Looked and smelled more like the waiting room of a sleazy auto-repair shop than a barber shop. The peculiar man gestured to what looked like a chair swiped from a 747 and told me he had to finish something up. He returned to his computer and clicked intermittently. An older bearded gentleman rose from a shadowy corner and eyed me suspiciously. Retreating to a back room. I sat down and found myself facing myself, reflected in a large gaudy mirror resting on a "natural" wooden table. My doppelganger was framed by Broadway showcards stuffed into the mirror's edges. The concrete walls were covered in pictures of wild animals. Coyotes, cougars, wolves. Stacks everywhere. VCRs, chairs, coats, rags. Throughout the duration of my time there I heard the "phone is off the hook" dialtone. Err-Err-Err-Err-Err-Err-Err.

I slyly turned to see what my "stylist" was working on. He was playing World of Warcraft. Playing World of Warcraft and drinking whisky. Jack Daniel's, straight from the bottle.

He finally finished what he was doing and mumbled to me "Sorry, was sending an e-mail to my ex-girlfriend. Where are my clippers..."

I smelled a pungent smoke about his person that may have explained his slow movements. The haircut was completed without conversation, which is the way I prefer it anyway.

Pretty good haircut though.

Happy Valentime's Day from your friends at Microsuede

Don't worry!

two eight through two ten aught eight

This weekend is pictureless. I did stuff, but I have nothing to show for it. Might make for a boring blog entry -

"They're all boring!"

What's this? Blog hecklers? I'll put that rapscallion in his place! You're all boring!

I'm fighting a cold. Not very happy about that. Friday night I didn't want to leave home at all so I just hung out and watched the monkey show and a lousy Jazz game. Finally at about 1am I realized I should get some cold medicine and went to the 24-hour Wal-Meth, Mart. I love going to Wal-Mart late at night. It's always an adventure and I always see such interesting characters there.

Not this time though. Nothing interesting to report at all.

Saturday I drove my own selfish brother, Michael around so he could go bowling. Then I had to drive all over the damn place to find a McDonald's that serves my latest addiction, iced coffee. Seriously their iced coffee is really good and I'm sure they're doing something sinister to make me crave it so much. Problem is I think only two places in the whole Valley actually serve it. I may have to write a letter.

Saw Charlie Wilson's War with Natali. Good flick. Phillip Seymour Hoffman was great as per usual.

Went over to Andy and Cherie's and helped kick in a door, which was very satisfying even though it terrified the dog and made her shake like a tickle-me Elmo.

Then I had a date with my one true love, Greek Souvlaki. Since I was still sick I needed some chicken soup for the soul. Well, I needed it more for the belly than the soul because I was also very hungry.

Made it a two-movie day and saw There Will Be Blood. Maybe I can work in a photo here.


Oil! What a tense movie.

Sunday was incredible. Blue skies, fifty degrees. It reminded me that there's such a thing as "not winter." Spent a good part of the day working on the brakes on my car which have been grinding fiercely the last few days. Chris was nice enough to take the time to help. And by "help" I mean "do it" because I am mechanically inept. The brake doesn't grind anymore now so that's good.

At this very moment I am listing things on ebay. I've never sold anything before but I just got my first bite so that's pretty exciting.

"Pretty exciting? More like pretty who-the-hell-cares-ing!"

Man, hecklers.

Tag-Ged

It finally happened. I've been tagged with one of these get-to-know you blog quizzes. I like these, actually. I see them on other people's blogs and and wonder why no one wants to tag me. Then I think "Well I'm too good for these things anyway!" but really there aren't many things I'm too good for. Anyway, Cindy (mindy-pindy) tagged me, so here we go.


A. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning
B. Each player answers the questions about themselves
C. At the end of the post, the player tags 4 people and posts their names, then goes to their blog and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they are tagged

10 years ago I was:
A senior in high school. Driving a blue Explorer that smelled of pine tree air fresheners. WAY into ska music. Sporting a head full of thick lustrious locks. I didn't wear glasses, but I did wear dumb pants. I had a crush on the girl I sat next to in art history. Also I was way into art history.

5 things on my 'to do' list today:
1. Remove the sword from my head
2. Lost/Project Runway
3. eat tomato snacks
4. finish writing my novel
5. think globally, act locally

Things I would do if I became a billionaire:
1. save the orangutans
2. fix the schools, somehow
3. get some pants that fit
4. buy a lot of records
5. probably quit my job

3 of my bad habits:
1. Being late for everything
2. half-assery
3. I say "like" too much

5 places I've lived
1. East Holladay
2. West-Central Holladay
3. Central Holladay
4. Centralized Central Holladay
5. East Murray

5 jobs I've had
1. Library Guy
2. Hotel Call Center
3. Paper Company
4. Hotel Call Center
5. Whatever it is I do now

Things most people don't know about me:
1. I'm afraid of whales
2. The whole reason I started this blog is because I wanted a girl to see how clever I am. But I haven't even talked to her in almost a year anyway.

You've been tagged:
I'm actually not going to tag anyone. Do as you will, bloggers.

the way I feel today

Rock the Vote

I voted today, and I found it to be rather exhilarating. Does that make me a "square?" Am I not "cool" enough for your hip coffee jazz clubs, daddio? Well if believing in democracy (or representative republics) makes me a square, than by golly I guess I'm a square.

two one through two three oh eight

I slept too much this weekend. Even more than usual. I really need to sleep more during the week so I don't need to catch up on the weekends. Whatever. This conversation is boring.

Friday. One of the worst days of work ever. Maybe not the worst, but the most cause-for-irritation days ever.

Friday night I ate a giant burrito. I literally thought I might die. Turns out there's such a thing as too much burrito. Then I settled in and watched the two best shows on television. The Wire (five episodes) and Orangutan Island.

Man I just can't get enough of those little orange guys.

Saturday I saw the Editors in concert at a converted old theatre called the Avalon. I've only been to this place once, many years ago when it was home to a hypnotist. That was a cold windy Saturday night in high school and whenever I think of things I hated about my life back then, that night sums it all up. Ah well. Onward and upward.

Unfortunately while standing in line I froze to death. The end.

Maybe not "to death," but I was awfully cold. The iced coffee I was drinking probably didn't help.


Good venue for a concert, I think. Waited an hour for the first band, Louis XIV. They were acceptable. Up next was Hot Hot Heat. I actually really like their music, and they put on a nice show for the kids. Seems most everyone there was to see HHH. Afterwards I was going to give them an extra couple bucks, but then I saw this.


Editors! Dude. Editors. Incredible show from start to finish.








As I type this my ears are still ringing. That's probably not a good thing, right?

Sunday. Superbowl Sunday. Danny hosted a party at the Bud. Just as I arrived the snow came in.


Good times were had by all. I actively participated in the sin of gluttony. It also occurred to me that I am a pretty good neighbor. Way better than the doucheboxes in my building that blast techno music 24/7.



My little buddy Cash was very afraid of the fish at first, but eventually became incredibly enthusiastic about them. "RIGHT THERE!!!! SWIMMING IN THE WATER!!!!!"


Pretty great football game by the way.

After the game, BATTLE SQUATS.


I'm not very good at BATTLE SQUATS. I generally have poor balance.




The end.