Sunday, June 27, 2004
Homework for a waitress. Still no free beer
Random Act of Kindness #1
It was one of those perfect Colorado summer days. The sun was out, wisps of clouds scudded across the sky and a light breeze took off the slight edge brought on by the 90-degree heat. I was sitting in front of my house, reading a book and soaking up the sun. It was as relaxing as a day could get-all my errands were run, my homework for the upcoming week had been finished the night before, and I didn’t have to be at work for several hours. I laid my book down and was drifting off to sleep, when the kids across the street came shrieking out of their house, armed to the teeth with water balloons (ok, they only had one each). There were two girls and one boy (Tommy, the neighbor kid), and they all looked psyched up for their water war.
The water fight commenced with a water balloon standoff-the three of them formed a large triangle, a water balloon in each hand. Tommy counted down from three, yelled go, and they all stood there. Tommy made the first move. The girl he turned on spun around and ran squealing down the street, with Tommy in hot pursuit. After running 20 feet she stopped and called “time out”. Tommy pulled up, giggling maniacally, and proceeded to throw one of his balloons at her, only to miss by a good 10 feet. Sensing an imminent soaking, he turned tail and tore back down the street towards the other girl that was hiding behind a car. She popped up and lobbed one of her balloons at him and hit him. Only she didn’t hit him hard enough to break the balloon and it broke harmlessly on the street. What followed for the next ten minutes was a multitude of shrieks, squeals, “time outs”, and wasted balloons. In an extremely anticlimactic move, Tommy dropped the last balloon on the street as he chased after the girls. I laughed at their weak attempt at a water balloon fight and made to go back to sleep. But that wasn’t to be. The three of them came back out with super soakers and a bucket of water. I perked up, as this looked to be more interesting, and “deadly”. I was in for more disappointment. For 20 minutes they made rules “you can’t hit me here, only here”, called “time out” as soon as a sopping was coming, and got wet only from running around in the sun working up a sweat. Eventually they sat down and took a break from their fight.
Now when I was a kid, water fights were only similar to the one I witnessed in that water was present. We never made rules, there were no time-outs, and people got hit when they weren’t expecting it-fights were premeditated and stealthy, not planned out with strict rules. It was with these childhood water wars in mind that I hooked my hose up to the spigot in front of the house. These kids were so engrossed in discussing the details of their next fight that they didn’t see me until I opened the hose on them, soaking them completely. My random act of kindness complete, I walked back to my chair and sat down, and was gratified to see them getting down to business and soaking each other further, as well as any unfortunates who walked by (oops).
Random Act of Kindness #2
Have you ever tried to push yourself up a big hill on a wheelchair? Me neither. But I did see an older man making a go at it one day in high school. On my way home from school, I had to go down a real steep hill. This particular day, I saw an older, heavier man struggling up the hill in a wheelchair. He was only about a quarter of the way up, so I pulled off at the bottom of the hill and went over to offer some assistance.
I walked up and said: “Hi, would you like some help?” Without turning around the man started swearing that he didn’t need any help, he could do it on his own, and that I should just go away and leave him alone. Then he turned around, looked me up and down, smiled, and said: “Actually, yes, I would love some help. Thank you!” I grimaced a little at his sudden change of mood, but grabbed the handles on the back of his chair and leaned in to start pushing. Well, he must have decided that I could do it on my own because he stopped working the wheels and instead sat back and rested his head against my chest! I wanted to help, but didn’t feel that I should be taken advantage of, so I stopped pushing, asked him to please not lean his head back so far, and maybe help me out. He grumbled something, but I did not have to deal with his head anymore.
We made it about ¾ of the way up the hill before I began to get tired. This man was not very light and I am pretty sure his efforts to help were staged. Needing a break, I asked the man if he could set the brake so I could rest for a minute. Again there was more mumbling, but he obliged. I took my weight off the wheelchair and stepped away, and almost immediately the chair started rolling backwards. I could do nothing more than stand by open-mouthed as the chair’s speed gathered. With a withering look, the vile old man threw on the brake (he staged it!), which stopped the chair but not him. The chair kept rotating even though the wheels had stopped and the man ended up getting tossed about 10 feet back down the hill. I was still standing there with my mouth agape, but he jumped into immediate action-he began swearing at me. I brought the chair down to him, got him back in, and ignored the burning in my arms and legs and got him to the top of the hill.
His thanks? A begrudging “thank you” while he stared at my chest.
Random Act of Kindness #3
I like to go for walks around my neighborhood. It clears my mind and relaxes me after school. One day I ended up at a park down the street from my house. I saw a little old man sitting on one of the park benches in the middle of the park. He was sitting very still; his hands planted on top of the cane in front of him; staring off across the park; a look of sadness across his face. I felt bad for him, sitting here all alone looking so sad on a beautiful day. I said hello as I was walking up to him. He looked up at me, gave me a small, sad smile, and said:”Hello”. I decided to sit down and talk with him and learn his story. At first it took some effort to get him to talk-I talked about the weather, asked if he lived nearby, and rambled on until he finally started talking. And once he got going-whoa. There was no slowing him down. He told me about his kids-a girl living in Seattle and a boy who had just moved to Buffalo. They didn’t come back to visit very often, and were usually too busy to talk for very long on the phone. His wife had died the past fall, which he was still broken hearted about, but at least his kids had come back for the funeral and brought their new babies with so he got to meet his grandchildren. He lived in the retirement community down the street and would come down to the park every chance he could, as it reminded him of his darling Claire. They used to take 2 laps around the park every night since they moved to the community. Now they rarely let him off the grounds, especially alone. They are worried for his safety. “Concerned for my safety? Blast them. I survived the Second Great War and still have the shrapnel in my back to prove it. My family survived the Great Depression, I worked my parents’ land and then my own land for nearly 60 years, getting crops to grow when they had no dadgum right to be growin’, rebuilding after tornados, floods, the only thing that never tried to get us down was the locusts! And now they are worried about me walking 2 blocks to this park on a warm sunny day! I may be sad, but I ain’t gonna kill myself. I promised Claire to take care of myself and I mean to honor that promise!”
He put out a tough act, despite his small frame and tortured look. Talking about “that damn old folks home” brought the fire back to his eyes and some color to his cheeks. Off that subject, however, he grew morose. As we continued to talk, I asked question after question about his wife. Again, at first he was hesitant to get into much detail, but eventually I broke him down. They had been high school sweethearts. They fought, but never went to bed mad. They shared a bed from their wedding night until the doctor’s in the hospital refused to let him lay down next to her for the months that she lay dying from cancer. They were best friends, had no secrets, left each other little love notes every morning before he headed out into the fields, and had at least one true date a week, be it dinner and a movie or a picnic in a park. They had spent no time apart throughout their entire marriage. And now, she is gone. And he is utterly alone. His best friend is gone. She was the angel that took care of them and acted as the glue to hold their family together. He was miserable. In his adult life before Claire died, he could count the number of times he had cried on one hand-when Old Yeller was killed (but I was a kid, just 18, so that doesn’t really count. A man who doesn’t cry at that is dead inside”), when his mom and dad died, and when his children were born. Now he cries almost every night.
I sat with him for a couple hours. When we noticed the sun going down we got up to leave. He smiled and thanked me for taking the time to talk with him. Now we meet every week. And he smiles more.
Random Act of Kindness #4
I work at a bar when I am not in school. And I speak from experience when I say that you meet the most interesting people at a local bar. Be they college kids just turned 21, the older crowd getting a beer after work, or guys with nothing better to do than stop in for a few pints. You meet nice and friendly people as well as the people mad at the world that vent their frustrations at you. Recently we’ve had a couple of new guys that have been coming in more or less regularly. Real nice, and never a problem to serve. They have caused me to partake in the most rewarding random act of kindness I’ve ever taken part in. Free beer. Their eyes begin to shine (happiness or alcohol caused, I am not sure) and they are eternally grateful. And it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
It was one of those perfect Colorado summer days. The sun was out, wisps of clouds scudded across the sky and a light breeze took off the slight edge brought on by the 90-degree heat. I was sitting in front of my house, reading a book and soaking up the sun. It was as relaxing as a day could get-all my errands were run, my homework for the upcoming week had been finished the night before, and I didn’t have to be at work for several hours. I laid my book down and was drifting off to sleep, when the kids across the street came shrieking out of their house, armed to the teeth with water balloons (ok, they only had one each). There were two girls and one boy (Tommy, the neighbor kid), and they all looked psyched up for their water war.
The water fight commenced with a water balloon standoff-the three of them formed a large triangle, a water balloon in each hand. Tommy counted down from three, yelled go, and they all stood there. Tommy made the first move. The girl he turned on spun around and ran squealing down the street, with Tommy in hot pursuit. After running 20 feet she stopped and called “time out”. Tommy pulled up, giggling maniacally, and proceeded to throw one of his balloons at her, only to miss by a good 10 feet. Sensing an imminent soaking, he turned tail and tore back down the street towards the other girl that was hiding behind a car. She popped up and lobbed one of her balloons at him and hit him. Only she didn’t hit him hard enough to break the balloon and it broke harmlessly on the street. What followed for the next ten minutes was a multitude of shrieks, squeals, “time outs”, and wasted balloons. In an extremely anticlimactic move, Tommy dropped the last balloon on the street as he chased after the girls. I laughed at their weak attempt at a water balloon fight and made to go back to sleep. But that wasn’t to be. The three of them came back out with super soakers and a bucket of water. I perked up, as this looked to be more interesting, and “deadly”. I was in for more disappointment. For 20 minutes they made rules “you can’t hit me here, only here”, called “time out” as soon as a sopping was coming, and got wet only from running around in the sun working up a sweat. Eventually they sat down and took a break from their fight.
Now when I was a kid, water fights were only similar to the one I witnessed in that water was present. We never made rules, there were no time-outs, and people got hit when they weren’t expecting it-fights were premeditated and stealthy, not planned out with strict rules. It was with these childhood water wars in mind that I hooked my hose up to the spigot in front of the house. These kids were so engrossed in discussing the details of their next fight that they didn’t see me until I opened the hose on them, soaking them completely. My random act of kindness complete, I walked back to my chair and sat down, and was gratified to see them getting down to business and soaking each other further, as well as any unfortunates who walked by (oops).
Random Act of Kindness #2
Have you ever tried to push yourself up a big hill on a wheelchair? Me neither. But I did see an older man making a go at it one day in high school. On my way home from school, I had to go down a real steep hill. This particular day, I saw an older, heavier man struggling up the hill in a wheelchair. He was only about a quarter of the way up, so I pulled off at the bottom of the hill and went over to offer some assistance.
I walked up and said: “Hi, would you like some help?” Without turning around the man started swearing that he didn’t need any help, he could do it on his own, and that I should just go away and leave him alone. Then he turned around, looked me up and down, smiled, and said: “Actually, yes, I would love some help. Thank you!” I grimaced a little at his sudden change of mood, but grabbed the handles on the back of his chair and leaned in to start pushing. Well, he must have decided that I could do it on my own because he stopped working the wheels and instead sat back and rested his head against my chest! I wanted to help, but didn’t feel that I should be taken advantage of, so I stopped pushing, asked him to please not lean his head back so far, and maybe help me out. He grumbled something, but I did not have to deal with his head anymore.
We made it about ¾ of the way up the hill before I began to get tired. This man was not very light and I am pretty sure his efforts to help were staged. Needing a break, I asked the man if he could set the brake so I could rest for a minute. Again there was more mumbling, but he obliged. I took my weight off the wheelchair and stepped away, and almost immediately the chair started rolling backwards. I could do nothing more than stand by open-mouthed as the chair’s speed gathered. With a withering look, the vile old man threw on the brake (he staged it!), which stopped the chair but not him. The chair kept rotating even though the wheels had stopped and the man ended up getting tossed about 10 feet back down the hill. I was still standing there with my mouth agape, but he jumped into immediate action-he began swearing at me. I brought the chair down to him, got him back in, and ignored the burning in my arms and legs and got him to the top of the hill.
His thanks? A begrudging “thank you” while he stared at my chest.
Random Act of Kindness #3
I like to go for walks around my neighborhood. It clears my mind and relaxes me after school. One day I ended up at a park down the street from my house. I saw a little old man sitting on one of the park benches in the middle of the park. He was sitting very still; his hands planted on top of the cane in front of him; staring off across the park; a look of sadness across his face. I felt bad for him, sitting here all alone looking so sad on a beautiful day. I said hello as I was walking up to him. He looked up at me, gave me a small, sad smile, and said:”Hello”. I decided to sit down and talk with him and learn his story. At first it took some effort to get him to talk-I talked about the weather, asked if he lived nearby, and rambled on until he finally started talking. And once he got going-whoa. There was no slowing him down. He told me about his kids-a girl living in Seattle and a boy who had just moved to Buffalo. They didn’t come back to visit very often, and were usually too busy to talk for very long on the phone. His wife had died the past fall, which he was still broken hearted about, but at least his kids had come back for the funeral and brought their new babies with so he got to meet his grandchildren. He lived in the retirement community down the street and would come down to the park every chance he could, as it reminded him of his darling Claire. They used to take 2 laps around the park every night since they moved to the community. Now they rarely let him off the grounds, especially alone. They are worried for his safety. “Concerned for my safety? Blast them. I survived the Second Great War and still have the shrapnel in my back to prove it. My family survived the Great Depression, I worked my parents’ land and then my own land for nearly 60 years, getting crops to grow when they had no dadgum right to be growin’, rebuilding after tornados, floods, the only thing that never tried to get us down was the locusts! And now they are worried about me walking 2 blocks to this park on a warm sunny day! I may be sad, but I ain’t gonna kill myself. I promised Claire to take care of myself and I mean to honor that promise!”
He put out a tough act, despite his small frame and tortured look. Talking about “that damn old folks home” brought the fire back to his eyes and some color to his cheeks. Off that subject, however, he grew morose. As we continued to talk, I asked question after question about his wife. Again, at first he was hesitant to get into much detail, but eventually I broke him down. They had been high school sweethearts. They fought, but never went to bed mad. They shared a bed from their wedding night until the doctor’s in the hospital refused to let him lay down next to her for the months that she lay dying from cancer. They were best friends, had no secrets, left each other little love notes every morning before he headed out into the fields, and had at least one true date a week, be it dinner and a movie or a picnic in a park. They had spent no time apart throughout their entire marriage. And now, she is gone. And he is utterly alone. His best friend is gone. She was the angel that took care of them and acted as the glue to hold their family together. He was miserable. In his adult life before Claire died, he could count the number of times he had cried on one hand-when Old Yeller was killed (but I was a kid, just 18, so that doesn’t really count. A man who doesn’t cry at that is dead inside”), when his mom and dad died, and when his children were born. Now he cries almost every night.
I sat with him for a couple hours. When we noticed the sun going down we got up to leave. He smiled and thanked me for taking the time to talk with him. Now we meet every week. And he smiles more.
Random Act of Kindness #4
I work at a bar when I am not in school. And I speak from experience when I say that you meet the most interesting people at a local bar. Be they college kids just turned 21, the older crowd getting a beer after work, or guys with nothing better to do than stop in for a few pints. You meet nice and friendly people as well as the people mad at the world that vent their frustrations at you. Recently we’ve had a couple of new guys that have been coming in more or less regularly. Real nice, and never a problem to serve. They have caused me to partake in the most rewarding random act of kindness I’ve ever taken part in. Free beer. Their eyes begin to shine (happiness or alcohol caused, I am not sure) and they are eternally grateful. And it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Friday, February 06, 2004
Hank Williams III
I am not that young anymore, not as young as I used to be at least. But this week I went to a concert Sunday night and Monday night (maybe this is why I have a cold). Sunday night I actually got into the pit (first time in a long time) and Monday's concert was in Fort Collins (over an hour away). What concert?
Hank Williams III
Hell of a good show. The crowd itself is entertaining enough. You have older folks who grew up listening to Hank Williams and have heard of the similarities Three shares with his granddaddy, and are curious to see if it's true. You have younger country fans who like Hank's country-rockabilly, fast, truer to old school country than most songs on the radio. Then you have the fans that are more into the second act, the metal act. It's a hell of a mix, and that makes the show even more fun.
Tearing thru the first set, it's hard not to see the family resemblance. The look, the sound, eerily close to his granddad. Paying tribute to the 'original' country crooners, he whipped thru David Allen Coe's 'Long Haired Redneck', Hank Williams Jr's 'If you Don't Like Hank Williams', and Hank Sr's 'There's a hole in the bucket'. He also paid tribute to some of the new country acts out of Texas-the acts you never hear on the radio (they are 'too country')-such as Wayne Hancock and Dale Watson. Very few people in the place were standing still. The fast paced set had everyone moving, and he finished it off with a good segueway-music half country and half metal.
After a short break Hank returned, looking a little different. The cowboy hat was gone, and the long hair was out. It was hard to tell it was the same man-not just because of the look, but the music was drastically different. Racing music and screaming lyrics, Ass Jack (the name of the metal band) ripped thru their set in front of screaming fans and a small mosh pit. My friend and I survived, with no more than a few bruises and a black eye for me from an errant elbow.
Awesome show, awesome performer, I highly recommend it. If you get the chance, get out and see him play. You won't regret it. Check out his website.
Hank Williams III
Hell of a good show. The crowd itself is entertaining enough. You have older folks who grew up listening to Hank Williams and have heard of the similarities Three shares with his granddaddy, and are curious to see if it's true. You have younger country fans who like Hank's country-rockabilly, fast, truer to old school country than most songs on the radio. Then you have the fans that are more into the second act, the metal act. It's a hell of a mix, and that makes the show even more fun.
Tearing thru the first set, it's hard not to see the family resemblance. The look, the sound, eerily close to his granddad. Paying tribute to the 'original' country crooners, he whipped thru David Allen Coe's 'Long Haired Redneck', Hank Williams Jr's 'If you Don't Like Hank Williams', and Hank Sr's 'There's a hole in the bucket'. He also paid tribute to some of the new country acts out of Texas-the acts you never hear on the radio (they are 'too country')-such as Wayne Hancock and Dale Watson. Very few people in the place were standing still. The fast paced set had everyone moving, and he finished it off with a good segueway-music half country and half metal.
After a short break Hank returned, looking a little different. The cowboy hat was gone, and the long hair was out. It was hard to tell it was the same man-not just because of the look, but the music was drastically different. Racing music and screaming lyrics, Ass Jack (the name of the metal band) ripped thru their set in front of screaming fans and a small mosh pit. My friend and I survived, with no more than a few bruises and a black eye for me from an errant elbow.
Awesome show, awesome performer, I highly recommend it. If you get the chance, get out and see him play. You won't regret it. Check out his website.
SWC
Why does Jerri, the main character, have sexy lookin' girl pics in her locker? Tommy likey...
Quick sidenote
A month ago I was on my way to Hawaii for 10 days of sitting in the sun, relaxing, semi-clothed, eating fresh fruit and Hawaiian coffee, enjoying my first real extended vacation in a long time.
Now, however, it's less than 20 degrees out, there's a couple inches of snow ion the ground, and I am sitting at home, hacking up phlegm and snot, blowing my nose every 5-6 minutes. I just started Season 1 of Comedy Central's 'Strangers with Candy'. Good times. Here's my list of accomplishments for the day:
Checked email.
Watched the movie 'Traffic'.
Surfed news sites on the web
Checked email again
Ate 3 hard boiled eggs with Cholula
Begged my girlfriend to bring me some soup and kleenex
Read some of my book: 'Who Stole the News' (good book)
Drooled some snot on my girlfriend who was nice enough to bring me soup and kleenex
Slurped some soup while reading my book
Checked my email
Zipped thru more news sites on the web
Tried to watch Britney's video 'Boys'. Too grainy and jumpy. Foiled!
Blogging while watching SWC.
How is that for an exciting day?
Now, however, it's less than 20 degrees out, there's a couple inches of snow ion the ground, and I am sitting at home, hacking up phlegm and snot, blowing my nose every 5-6 minutes. I just started Season 1 of Comedy Central's 'Strangers with Candy'. Good times. Here's my list of accomplishments for the day:
Checked email.
Watched the movie 'Traffic'.
Surfed news sites on the web
Checked email again
Ate 3 hard boiled eggs with Cholula
Begged my girlfriend to bring me some soup and kleenex
Read some of my book: 'Who Stole the News' (good book)
Drooled some snot on my girlfriend who was nice enough to bring me soup and kleenex
Slurped some soup while reading my book
Checked my email
Zipped thru more news sites on the web
Tried to watch Britney's video 'Boys'. Too grainy and jumpy. Foiled!
Blogging while watching SWC.
How is that for an exciting day?
Friday, January 30, 2004
Flying
Since I moved away from the Midwest, I have found myself flying more than ever before-flying back to Chicago to spend time with my family and friends from high school, flying to Indiana/California/Michigan to see friends from college, and of course there are the true vacation oriented flights-Hawaii, Europe, Mexico, etc.
Flying is always an experience. I find it's nice to have a pleasant neighbor on flights. Unfortunately, this doesn't happen often. Unless I am flying with my girlfriend, it seems I never get stuck next to my ideal seatmate-a young and attractive woman who finds med witty and amusing, while finding herself unable to avert her gaze from my chiseled countenance.
No, I am not purposely trying to set myself up for disappointment, I just have high hopes. That's not so wrong!
Unfortunately, people that fit my ideal rarely exist on planes (or in life), and my seatmates range the typical gamut of flyers-yellers, snorers, nosy talkative types, larger than the seat specs, and smelly.
On my last trip, to Hawaii, I got a new one-a Born Again Christian. He was a very nice guy, but fortunately he didn't break into religion talk until we were about 45 minutes from touchdown. I finished my Tom Robbins book and decided to forge my way thru more Nietzsche. I pulled my book out, set it on my lap, and closed my eyes and took a minute to remember where I was heading. As my face broke out in smile, I was hit with some lame come-one line about my book. It became quickly apparent that he wanted to let me know what he felt about life and religion (even though he professed to care about my opinions). We started discussing, but it soon broke down. Not into violence or yelling and arguing. No, it broke down because he turned into the religion teachers I had in high school-he stopped listening to what I was saying. He would respond with a completely unrelated statement if he didn't like what I had to say. I think this breakdown occurred after about 15 minutes. I then started begging the pilot to get us there quicker, or even land (I can still swim. Besides, there was a life vest under my seat, according to the flight attendant) a little early so this guy would stop lecturing me. Since the pilot decided that landing on the runway was the best option (wuss), I was preached too, feigning interest now and then like you would to a yakky girlfriend during a good football game (some well timed "uh-huh"s, thoughtful "hmmmm"s, you know how it is).
Finally we landed, and I got to leave the plane and the lecture. Unfortunately, I was followed and kept hearing some talking/buzzing until I found my bag and made my escape.
Nice guy, but whew! What a way to start my trip!
Flying is always an experience. I find it's nice to have a pleasant neighbor on flights. Unfortunately, this doesn't happen often. Unless I am flying with my girlfriend, it seems I never get stuck next to my ideal seatmate-a young and attractive woman who finds med witty and amusing, while finding herself unable to avert her gaze from my chiseled countenance.
No, I am not purposely trying to set myself up for disappointment, I just have high hopes. That's not so wrong!
Unfortunately, people that fit my ideal rarely exist on planes (or in life), and my seatmates range the typical gamut of flyers-yellers, snorers, nosy talkative types, larger than the seat specs, and smelly.
On my last trip, to Hawaii, I got a new one-a Born Again Christian. He was a very nice guy, but fortunately he didn't break into religion talk until we were about 45 minutes from touchdown. I finished my Tom Robbins book and decided to forge my way thru more Nietzsche. I pulled my book out, set it on my lap, and closed my eyes and took a minute to remember where I was heading. As my face broke out in smile, I was hit with some lame come-one line about my book. It became quickly apparent that he wanted to let me know what he felt about life and religion (even though he professed to care about my opinions). We started discussing, but it soon broke down. Not into violence or yelling and arguing. No, it broke down because he turned into the religion teachers I had in high school-he stopped listening to what I was saying. He would respond with a completely unrelated statement if he didn't like what I had to say. I think this breakdown occurred after about 15 minutes. I then started begging the pilot to get us there quicker, or even land (I can still swim. Besides, there was a life vest under my seat, according to the flight attendant) a little early so this guy would stop lecturing me. Since the pilot decided that landing on the runway was the best option (wuss), I was preached too, feigning interest now and then like you would to a yakky girlfriend during a good football game (some well timed "uh-huh"s, thoughtful "hmmmm"s, you know how it is).
Finally we landed, and I got to leave the plane and the lecture. Unfortunately, I was followed and kept hearing some talking/buzzing until I found my bag and made my escape.
Nice guy, but whew! What a way to start my trip!
Thursday, December 25, 2003
Christmas
Well, it's Christmas time again. Once more have I made the trip back east across the plains to my parents' house in DG, IL. Thus far, this has been a pretty standard trip. Got in late, headed into the City the following night after a day of lunch and talking with mom. Standard night out also. Didn't see the sun come up this time, but was up pretty late with the guys. Beer was had, no sleep was had, 2 naps were taken after straggling back to the 'burbs.
As we no longer wake up early on Xmas morning, we opened our presents tonight, Xmas Eve, though technically it was Xmas day. There was a new variance in our routine-dad pulled out the slides and projector, to show us pics form his days as a kid, to show us many of our relatives. Unfortunately, I think this may have been brought on in part by the recent death of his sister (whose wake drew one sibling-dad-out of the 5 that are still alive). It was interesting, especially seeing dad as a kid. For the first time in a long time, it actually felt like we were a family again. That was nice, but sad at the same time.
However, too much money was spent on us, as always. But not too much, I hope. The gifts should all fit in my suitcase, making the trip home more or less effortless.
More later. Mom finally wandered off to bed, so the bro and I will now take in a movie, a brew, and some tots.
As we no longer wake up early on Xmas morning, we opened our presents tonight, Xmas Eve, though technically it was Xmas day. There was a new variance in our routine-dad pulled out the slides and projector, to show us pics form his days as a kid, to show us many of our relatives. Unfortunately, I think this may have been brought on in part by the recent death of his sister (whose wake drew one sibling-dad-out of the 5 that are still alive). It was interesting, especially seeing dad as a kid. For the first time in a long time, it actually felt like we were a family again. That was nice, but sad at the same time.
However, too much money was spent on us, as always. But not too much, I hope. The gifts should all fit in my suitcase, making the trip home more or less effortless.
More later. Mom finally wandered off to bed, so the bro and I will now take in a movie, a brew, and some tots.
Friday, December 19, 2003
The warring factions
It has begun. It started months ago and is only now ramping up into a full scale conflict. I am surrounded, and outnumbered. I have a good stash of ammo, I just don't know that I can launch it quickly enough.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
Thursday Night Adventures
After work yesterday, I went for a long (1 hour), not-so-slow run (4 minute miles-really!) with my faithful running companion. No, not Buster. Actually, not even a dog, really. Just Jenny. Anyway, after our run I decided that my hard work merited a frosty cold beverage. The drive home was uneventful, as was unlocking my door and going inside. Once inside, I raided the fridge and put together a dinner of leftovers-3 ravioli and a bowlful of mixed veggies. And a beer. While eating, I had a long, deep, and very rational discussion with my friend Boz. Here is an excerpt from the conversation:
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I'm a better driver than you
COREY: No you're not.
BOZ: I'm home. bye
COREY: I need to drink. bye
After this verbal jousting ended, I put in Almost Famous. And got another beer. Unfortunately, my free DVD player is starting to fail. So I had to switch to the laptop. this was cause for more beer. I toasted myself.
not long after the movie ended, Mr. Ream called. here is that conversation:
REAM: What are you doing? COREY: Drinking. REAM: With who? COREY: Me REAM: ME TOO!! isn't it great? come over and hot tub with me! COREY: Ummm, maybe I'll wander over in a bit. I want some tater tots. REAM: OK HURRY! I NEED TO CALL AND HARASS SOMEONE!! COREY: ok.
eventually (11ish) I wandered to Ream's. with beer. have you ever watched a fat bald man eat tater tots off a floating tray while soaking in a hot tub? me neither and i'd rather not. we ate the tots sitting on his couch. different sections we were sitting on. he smelled bad. me did too. we went drinky for a while then I walked home. walk walk was not as difficult at 1:30 semi-drunk as it was 6:30 very drunk. Wilt was asleep I got home. I went to accost him, but Buster took one for the team. I went to sleep.
flash forward to 8 this morning. phone rings, it's holly (who had been drunk harassed the night before) with a wake up call. work was tried, Ream was tried, only my stupid phone was on. oh well.
now I am at work. I don't want to be at work. all time has stopped moving forward. I need a nap
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I drive a TRUCK! vroom vroom!
COREY: No you don't. you drive an SUV.
BOZ: I'm a better driver than you
COREY: No you're not.
BOZ: I'm home. bye
COREY: I need to drink. bye
After this verbal jousting ended, I put in Almost Famous. And got another beer. Unfortunately, my free DVD player is starting to fail. So I had to switch to the laptop. this was cause for more beer. I toasted myself.
not long after the movie ended, Mr. Ream called. here is that conversation:
REAM: What are you doing? COREY: Drinking. REAM: With who? COREY: Me REAM: ME TOO!! isn't it great? come over and hot tub with me! COREY: Ummm, maybe I'll wander over in a bit. I want some tater tots. REAM: OK HURRY! I NEED TO CALL AND HARASS SOMEONE!! COREY: ok.
eventually (11ish) I wandered to Ream's. with beer. have you ever watched a fat bald man eat tater tots off a floating tray while soaking in a hot tub? me neither and i'd rather not. we ate the tots sitting on his couch. different sections we were sitting on. he smelled bad. me did too. we went drinky for a while then I walked home. walk walk was not as difficult at 1:30 semi-drunk as it was 6:30 very drunk. Wilt was asleep I got home. I went to accost him, but Buster took one for the team. I went to sleep.
flash forward to 8 this morning. phone rings, it's holly (who had been drunk harassed the night before) with a wake up call. work was tried, Ream was tried, only my stupid phone was on. oh well.
now I am at work. I don't want to be at work. all time has stopped moving forward. I need a nap
Thursday, December 04, 2003
Rambling away
Dawn breaks across my face flooding my closed lids with a warm soothing light a peace that I feel can last and last until I realize that I still have to work and slave to make food and drink available. I rise, slowly despairing an excess of melancholy oozing from my pores and soaking my once occupied sheets. Shower sprays, I silently pray for an awakening that doesn’t come instead the spray hits me all over, no places left unexplored, yet my eyes remain closed and pouting. I sift thru the dreams running rampant in my head the most recent of which is that of the soon to be explored islands of my dream soon to be dream no longer but reality. My eyes burn open too long too much oxygen pours in drying out closing of the lids brings pained and welcome relief. Impetus unknown, merely moving thru the motions hoping that something will stick something will bring some meaning to someone something someplace somebody hopes growing fainter and fainter with passing minutes.
