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Friday, April 30, 2004

After returning home from a short trip to get coffee, I came to a stop in front of the neighbor's house. Leaning out of the car window I asked...

"Is everything alright here? Is your son okay?"
"Oh sure, he's fine. Gotta bump on the head is all. Hey, thanks for asking."
"Well, it's the least I could do."
"No really, you shouldn't have. I saw how you slowed down after seeing the fence fall over and clobber him. You even waited 'til I heaved it off before pulling away."
"Once I saw his arms and legs flailing about I knew nothing was broken."
"Funny how it happened. He kept asking if it was OK to let go of it and I kept saying 'no' but eventually he just let go anyway. Kids..."
"How unfortunate. Perhaps you should consider finding someone other than your four-year old to help build your fence."
".....................looks like your coffee might be gettin' cold."
"Probably is"

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Note slipped across table to girlfriend while sitting in coffee shop.
"Is that man drunk or just LOUD?"

The reply: "I think a little of both. His girlfriend just pulled a grey hair (?) out of his eyebrow."

Friday, April 23, 2004

Place Kicker

Question: What happens when while climbing the stairs to your apartment you spot a wasp’s nest in the upper left-hand corner of the neighbor’s window?

Answer: If there is an actual wasp clinging to the nest, you take a cowardly-swing at it with your foot.

Question: What happens when you miss the wasp nest completely?

Answer: I wouldn’t know—that has never happened to me. But in theory, you would kick a shoe-sized hole in the neighbor’s window.

Question: What would any fine upstanding citizen then do?

Answer: Make your girlfriend tape a note to their door and go hide in the bathtub.

Question: You sound as if you are speaking from experience.

Answer: No. Nothing could be further from than the truth. I have an active imagination.
Plus, they fixed the hole yesterday so it’s as if it never happened at all.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

What was once a tolerable Walmart, is now closed. I am sure it was one of the few left of its kind--not transformed into a Super Walmart which is what made it so fucking super.
If while visiting my folks, they would send me on an errand there, I would happily make the trip. I was in and out because it was small and humble and nothing in the store demanded my attention. Everything on every aisle sat passively on the shelves.
But now, like in every fucking Walmart, with its glaring overhead lighting, I am forced to walk for miles searching for a simple shower curtain.
I will not even begin to discuss THE PEOPLE THERE. No one has time for that.
At least I was able to drive my dad's truck. It is big and powerful and I am very small in comparison. I am the envy of the town when I pull into the parking lot with its engine rumbling and hop out of it.
I am riding high in this truck. I am the King of the Road. I will bust you in the chops if you mess with me in this truck. I will nudge your wimpy compact car into the gully.

In unrelated news...I would like to buy one dozen eggs and let them sit in the sun for two weeks so that I can then pelt the neighbors boxy, architecturally barren townhouse.
He has not made the realization that he is no longer in college and should not have his old college buddies with their fancy cars and SUV's over to sit in the GARAGE to drink beer and play darts. Nor has it occurred to him to get married and start a family and SHUT THE FUCK UP. Idiot.
One time we came home to find him sitting on our curb, across the street from his boxy, architecturally barren townhouse, so that he could admire it. Apparently, he had made some modification to it earlier in the day. And now he was sitting shirtless and sweating on our curb.
"If only I had the incredible view my neighbors so fortunately have", he thought to himself.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

"What are those?"
"Second Day cookies."
"You mean like "twice-baked potatoes?"
"No, like day old cookies."
"I don't want any."
"They're two for one."
"Ooooohh.....goodie!"


"Why are you staring at me like that?"
"I just..."
"What?"
"I've never seen anyone sit like that."
"Like what?"
"With their computer on their legs."
"You mean in their lap?

Monday, April 12, 2004

Easter just wouldn't be the same without egg-hunting. Or, in my case...egg-hiding.
Sunday I was in charge of hiding eggs for two different age groups which meant half were stealthily hidden in drain pipes and other various nooks and crannies, while the remaining half were dropped haphazardly into the grass in plain sight, as people do when hiding eggs for the very young.
This year happens to be my nephew's first year to hunt. I couldn't wait for him to scream like a girl every time he found one.
He caught on to the game immediately and lost interest just as quickly. A plastic tricycle proved more fun. The fact he is too young to ride is no bother to him. He simply pushes it from one end of the lawn to the other.
The egg hunt came to an end when all of the hiding places had been found by the neighborhood children and their egg-sniffing dog.

Thursday, April 08, 2004

After several test runs at home, today was my first official outing with the laptop. With such beautiful weather I decided to set off on foot. Although I chose a coffee shop only blocks away, the walk almost killed me. I started out with the strap over my shoulder then quickly switched to carrying it business man-style by the handle. I alternated between the two for the remainder of the walk.

I entered the cafe and headed for the counter. I studied the menu and hoped no one would notice my shoulder sagging from the immense weight of my bag. French vanilla coffee is a given, but I was pretty sure blowing any of what’s left of my money on an entree would be stupid. (Let the record show that I’m very hungry.)
While waiting for my coffee I stole a glance in the direction of the booths located near the outlets to see if any were available. As usual they were full so I chose a table by the window, set my computer down and back-tracked my way to the condiment counter for a cup of water. Of course this afforded me an excellent view of the sleek and spiffy laptops that everyone seated by the outlets had. It dawned on me how utterly stupid I would look occupying one of these booths.

Likely Scenario: “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m uh, you know, using my laptop and stuff.”
“No seriously, get out of here. I have to study.”

It would be useless for me to attempt any real work in a cafe anyway. I’m a people watcher. Which is weird in a way considering I don’t particularly enjoy the company of others most of the time.
The manager and staff have become mildly drunk from a wine-tasting a few tables away. They have showed increased interest with every new sample. At the table to my left a girl and what may be a boyfriend are having two Bud Lights. Out on the patio a blonde-haired girl sits covered completely in a white blouse and skirt. Her hair is tucked inside an awkward-looking cap. She has completed the look with sunglasses. I can’t tell if she is hiding from the sun or a person.

I feel bad for anyone who left work early to enjoy the beautiful weather today. The sun that was smiling brightly over the city earlier is now hidden behind a skyful of clouds.

Update: I am at home now. My computer is a liar. It konked out after an hour and twenty minutes with no warning. I still love the little piece of shit, though. Win95 will never die!

Monday, April 05, 2004

Weekend Update

I’ve managed to ruin our rag rug. The one that sits in front of the tub. It’s not noticeable to the naked eye, but the foot—it does not lie. That mess of fuzz I removed from the lint-basket…twice…made all the difference.
In the spirit of a new bath towel, I washed it; expecting it to become thicker and softer.
This is not true of the rag rug. Leave it alone. The name says it all.


“Four men and one woman reduced to a microscopic fraction of their original size, boarding a miniaturized atomic sub and being injected into a dying man’s carotid artery. Fighting their way past giant antibodies, passing through the heart itself, entering the inner ear where even the slightest sound would destroy them, battling relentlessly into the cranium. Their objective…to reach a blood clot and destroy it with the piercing rays of a laser gun. At stake…the fate of the entire world.”

I know what you are thinking…how did I come across such a wonderfully exciting book and you did not! I cannot say…these things just happen.
What would you think if I told you of the other book I found? The Star Wars Trilogy which includes: Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi. All a $14.97 value for only $5.99. But for me, at Half Price Books, a mere fifty cents. Also found was The Mentor Guide to Punctuation—a little pocket reference book. A buck seventy-five.
If you are nice I will share the title and author of the above-mentioned book and perhaps even let you borrow my copy. Actually it will now and forever belong to the original owner, little Paul Dowling, for his name is written neatly on the inside cover.

Friday, April 02, 2004

Father (thinks he) Knows Best

Wednesday was my go-over-to-the-parent's-to-become-their-personal-slave day. I tried explaining to my mother beforehand that I wouldn't be over until after my mail was delivered around two-o'clock, or possibly later as the mailman is painfully inconsistent. He could make an appearance anywhere from eleven-thirty to three-thirty. On Wednesday I stood watching him from the window taking a drink of soda, checking his cell phone, flicking a piece of debris from his cuffed sock, and finally straightening and then re-straightening a stack of mail from the comfort of his little truck.

Not surprisingly the phone call from my father came a little before three that day and was nothing short of a train wreck. He was curious as to if and when I planned on showing up. Again, I explained that I would not be leaving until after my mail had arrived and that "Mom already knows this."
Something was said about "getting here early or not at all" and the phone was then abruptly disconnected.

What just happened? Although very prone to at times, I do not recall actually engaging in an argument. Then it occurred to me...I know how his mind works. Driving over after the mail is delivered to MY apartment translates as me magically arriving at the exact time they receive mail to THEIR house on the other side of town. This I am sure of.

Now, fast-forward a day or two. Thursday, in-between my usual cleaning duties, I managed to find time to wash four loads of my laundry, make a pitcher of fruit smoothies, take clippings from a nearby flowering bush, and make the discovery of a napping cat in the back seat of my car who had apparently slipped in through an open window. It is my father's habit, and obligation presumably, to air out my car while I'm visiting.
I also made the discovery while folding my g.f's panties that, according to my calculations, she makes an underwear change every twelve hours...Around the hour of seven-fifteen.

Today was spent running errands with my mother which went well considering the day began with a horrific story detailing a car accident which coincidently occurred at the very intersection in which we were waiting to cross. She is a wonderful story-teller.

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