Living alone will be the death of me....literally

Literally...a fiery, smoky, charred death.

Friday night, I'm sitting around having the Friday beers and generally just enjoying the evening. I watched one of my favourite shows and then started playing my football game on the playstation. Yes, I am a dork. A charming, witty, super attractive dork, but a dork nonetheless. Anyway, not paying any attention to the time, I get hungry. With a capital H. No problem, it's Friday and it's only midnight, I'll order a pizza. Nah, I think, I have a frozen one here. I'll save some money and just make that. Beauty. I get the pizza out, turn the oven on, slice my hot peppers for the top and put it in the oven after patiently waiting an eternity for it to preheat. Back to the sofa I go and I flip through the channels looking for some stupid movie to entertain me while I wait 25-28 minutes for the pizza to be ready. I watch the clock diligently, even getting up at 23 minutes to check on it to see if by some chance it's ready early. No dice. Back to the couch...I figure I'll give it 6 minutes or so now. Fast forward to me flying off the couch and looking frantically at the clock. It's 4 am. The pizza has now been in the oven for....do the math here...3.5 hours. It looks like a meteorite. I don't think the Smithsonian has prehistoric rocks that are as black and hard as this thing is. The kitchen's a little smoky, but not bad. My pizza pan survived the incident as did the inside of the new oven that I just got. That day. (thank you landlord) I get it out and set it in front of the window to cool as I lumber back to the bed to deal with it all in the morning as I'm just glad not to have caught the house on fire. That's when the smoke alarm goes off. Twice. Silencing that, I now have a splitting headache. Two tylenol later, and I'm back asleep, alarm set to wake me up for errands in the morning....oh what a night.

Saturday morning, I tend to the remains and head off to town for some very unproductive shopping. Back home at 12, I have my Octoberfest pack of Sam Adams and am ready to watch the WVU game. After I find my glasses. I had them on last night. I didn't go anywhere. My apartment isn't that big. I looked for them for an hour. I moved the couches, took the cushions off, even dug through the trash. All to no avail. I don't have any idea where they are. Apparently, they have fallen prey to the midnight gremlins that are fueled by alcohol and that suck things into the abyss that is centered in my living room. I'll probably find them in a week or so in pieces somewhere.

Then, watching the game, one of the idiot announcers made the bold statement as if it were a fact written in stone somewhere that Deon Sanders is the greatest player that's ever played in the NFL. Now, I don't know who I would consider the greatest, but I'm pretty damn sure it's not that flashy, overrated waste of oxygen. I mean, did he do anything specatacular other than run his mouth more than anyone else in the league?

Sunday, I hear another brilliant commentator say about Brett Favre's tying Marino's touchdown record "so, does this compare with something like Bonds and the homerun record?" No, jackass, it doesn't. Brett has never been in the middle of any scandal and has been (as far as I remember) a stand up guy and not an asshole. Those are 3 things Bonds can't say. But, anyway, I'm gonna start muting the game and making up my own commentary. I'm going to have to I suppose, as I can't see the screen like I could...actually, the money for the big screen tv is well spent now. Go me!!

In summary, make sure your smoke detectors work and when you want something to eat late at night...just order it.

Can you hear me now?

Dear Sprint:

We've been together now for quite a few years, and I've become quite reliant on you. In fact, I ditched my long time phone company for you and have since not even used another service. I've always paid my bills on time and not complained about how much you rape me with this charge and that charge. You see, I'm holding up my end of our relationship. I'm trying to make this thing work. And that's the problem. You're not putting your effort into this. Things are getting very one-sided and I find myself apologizing for your behaviour all the time. I'm making excuses for you like the abused spouse does, or the non-drinking spouse at a party. Sure, you're putting in your appearances what with all the flashy towers and the bars on my phone, but I see through you. I see what you're doing when you think I'm not looking. I see the 4 or 5 bars I used to have all the time jump to 2 or even 0 repeatedly when I don't even move the phone. I know it's you that's hanging up on my friend 10 times Tuesday evening. 10, Sprint. I moved everywhere I could to try to talk and still you wouldn't cooperate. What did I do wrong? I moved into the city from the country thinking that you might be happier if we were closer. I guess not. Turns out that maybe I'm too close for comfort? I just don't know anymore. I know that I can't depend on you and that makes me sad. And furious. I've invested a lot of time and money in this relationship, but I'm afraid there are other people involved now. Verizon and Cingular are batting their eyes at me when you're pouting with no signal. They're promising free calls to my friends that are already dating them. They're lulling me with their sweet sirens' song. What's it going to be Sprint? I'm a creature of habit, and for better or worse, I'd like to save this relationship. Or be set free. Call me (if you can).

Sincerely,

J.

I can feel it in the air tonight..well, this morning anyway...

Do you know what that smell is? No, not the strange odor eminating from the cube next to me, the one outside? yep, it's Autumn. It's right around the corner. I could feel it this morning, smell it in the air. And I can't wait. It's football on the weekends, pots of chili, warm dinners instead of whatever happens to be convenient. Jeans and long sleeved shirts...fires...good beers that sit a little heavier on you than the light ones you drink when it's a million degrees out. Fall is also a time of rebirth for me. People think of it as a time of dying, preparing for the cold of winter...but I always look at fall as the beginning of the year. I guess that stems from starting school and all that in the fall. But, it's a great time for me. A comfortable one. Soon it will be hunting season (which amounts to sitting on the porch with my step-dad, a 12 pack, and some guns, but still...) and the leaves will change and cover us in a multitude of colours. And the air is so clean and crisp and the sky so blue. And, this year instead of walking around sniffing for the first person to build a fire on a cold night, that person will be me. I can't wait. I even saw 3 deer walking this morning...through the intersection on the main road that I cross to get to work. In the city. If they're not ready for fall, no one is.

All over the map....

There's a chicken processing factory in the town where I work. It's not the killing factory...that's a few miles away. Boy, oh boy, let me just tell you how good that smells on a hot, humid day. Anyway, the plant here in town handles the frozen, mostly precooked stuff like those little chunks of heaven Chicken Nuggets and the like. Most days it smells like lunch all the time. But, for some reason when it rains it smells like hot dogs. Not the hot dog goodness that is a chili dog with everything on it or anything like that. It's more like they're using wet dogs to make hot dogs. I don't get it.

I know everyone's seen those damn Quizno's commercials with the slogan "MMMM....Toasty" on it. If you listen to it, though, shouldn't there be 5 Ms? These are the things that keep me up at night.

And, now, to take this blog to the next level. There's a guy here that goes to the bathroom every hour on the hour. Like I mean, you can set your watch by it. WTF? Every day, every hour. In an eight hour day, he sacrifices 2 hours (not counting breaks and lunch) to the porcelain god. Seriously, wouldn't you go to the doctor or be concerned or something? Or maybe just try to eat a little better or maybe just eat lots of cheese and stuff. I don't get it. At all. It used to be funny, like 2 or 3 years ago. Now it's just annoying. I don't know, maybe I'm the freak, but even after a weekend of steady drinking, I can't compete. Oh, the mysteries that are this life.

Now, aren't you glad you read this today?

dammit

I spent a pretty low key weekend messing around the house, and after West Virginia finally showed up to the game Saturday at some point after halftime, it improved a little more. But, I do have to ask...why in the hell did they start the game at 11:00?? WVU and Marshall are 2 of the hardest drinking schools on football weekends that I've been to. In fact, my local university had a game this weekend and I saw ONE banner celebrating that fact. One. At a place of 20K or so students....Who cares if the team isn't a championship contender? It's still football. The beer tastes the same, win or lose. The grill still cooks wonderful meaty magic either way. I don't get it man. For the record, they may be really good...to be honest, I don't know. It's nearly impossible to get tickets and I'm not tailgating alone, unless it's on my porch. Which brings me back to Saturday. The first half of the game was a little rough and leaving me a little unsettled and I caught myself going beer for beer with commercial breaks. There are A LOT of commercials in a football game. A Lot. Later in the half, as my chili started cooking more, I started focusing on that and laundry and such as it was nearing halftime, so everything evened out. By 2:30, now working on an early evening if I didn't find something else to do besides sit and stare at the television, I decided I needed to eat and go do anything other than sit in the house. Early sleeping averted, I salvaged the rest of the day.

Anyway, the point of this post is this...I woke up early Sunday morning. By early, I mean 4:30 with the right side of my head locked up so tight I thought someone was smothering me and trying to drown me at the same time. I stumbled to the kitchen, took a claritin and was now awake. So, I watched a movie or two. I watched Sideways, the mid-life crisis/wine tour movie. It was pretty good overall. In parts, though, I didn't mind getting up to get more coffee. I like wine, but I don't love it and maybe that's part of it. And the mid-life part? I get it, man. Trust me...I get it. Meh. But, the thing that got me....if you've made it this far through the rambling, congratulations!!....the guy's a "writer" and trying to publish a book. The title? The Day After Yesterday. Asshole. I had originally thought of maybe calling mine that. Guess I won't now. Of course, the cool girl that he liked in the movie kinda made fun of it a little, so that turned me off of it too. Still, though, what are the chances of that?? Or, am I essentially that guy and that's what the movie was telling me...at 6:00 am on a Sunday?? But, I've other ideas for a title and I don't drink wine very often....

A Friday Treat

These chickens crack me up. Thanks, Doug Savage for bringing a bit of humour to the cubicle farm.

National Museum of the Boring

I suppose I should type something to fill this empty space because I know you all have been waiting with baited breath to see what's been going on here in Wonderland...except nothing has. Nothing. I can't remember the last time that this has happened...this lull where nothing irritates me, nothing makes me mad or upset, and nothing is really hilarious. It's actually, albeit boring, quite nice for a change.

Sunday I did go to the National Museum of Natural History or whatever it's called in Washington. Other than it being asshole to elbow with screaming, running kids it was very interesting. I was surprised at how much of a geek I am deep down. I could've stayed in there reading exhibits all day. Oh, and the Hope Diamond? Meh. It doesn't look real. I wouldn't be surprised if it's just a big farce perpetuated through the ages. But, back to the kids. Parents, I know you want to educate your kids and that you need stimulation too other than the idiocy that is children's television, but seriously, when a kid is under 8 or so, they're not gaining a lot from the whole museum experience. But, perhaps I'm biased. Either way, I bullied my way through, glared at the parents, and went on with my day. Oh, and People From Foreign Countries, I'm pleased that you want to learn about science and history and are experiencing all that our capital has to offer. But, please remember that this is America and we believe here in a little thing called personal space. In case you're not familiar with it, it's the idea that since I don't know you and we're not going to sleep together later, I would rather you not stand right on top of me. Thanks.

Saturday I watched football and Monday I bought a book or three and watched movies...Oh! And I think I'm going to try to get some stuff published if I can talk the publisher of this poetry book I bought into it. I think he just doesn't realize that he needs me on his list. I'm going to send some stuff to him as soon as I can rummage it out of the 4 or 5 notebooks laying haphazardly around. If any of you know publishers looking for someone, pimp me out, yo.

I love short weeks! Today is already Wednesday, meaning tomorrow is my weekly battle with Junk Man, and then it's the weekend again, baby. I can't wait!!