So this came up:
British people don't have pets. Maybe the ones living in the states, but I am thoroughly convinced...by my utter conviction in pop culture cinematic madness...that British people don't have pets.
(*Based on the fact that in almost every BritPic/BBC program there have never been a kitteh shown. And dogs were usually for hunting foxes...or bears)
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Gahlf
I was driving to work a few days ago.
And at 6:30 am there were people at the Gross Golf Course* (*No lie)
Golfing.
F##king maniacs, I say.
My ability to frass about golf withstanding, and the fact that my lawn hasn't even been prepped for Spring/Summer yet...
You go, people.
Maniacs
And at 6:30 am there were people at the Gross Golf Course* (*No lie)
Golfing.
F##king maniacs, I say.
My ability to frass about golf withstanding, and the fact that my lawn hasn't even been prepped for Spring/Summer yet...
You go, people.
Maniacs
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Hi. I did something weird today...
Disclaimer: This will NOT be interesting. To Anyone. Who did not. Grow up...outside of BeeP's/BeeC's. Even those folks will probably move onto Perez Hilton's site.) This is about as Anti-Garrison as it gets, but it cheesily came out of no where...Isn't that where whims start anyway?
I took a right today. Instead of a left. That's how it started.
It's been a minute since I've been to my original karate school in BC, well, Before I started the Ninja show at the BLB anyway. I've been itching to meet the new instructor, who RSVP told me was pretty good. Time and commitments being what they are have kept me away, sadly but... today though, I made it. And made a commitment to him that I'd go. And he was happy. And it was good.
After getting my ass kicked, then storing my gear in my trunk, and planning about how I would finish my afternoon before Dorajar finished her rehearsal, I whimsically decided to kill a minute with a drive to my home town...And here we go:
This is less romantic than the layperson would think. Small town people have their own version of nostagilia, believe me. It wasn't like I grew up in the middle of a bean field...but there are those folks- (All 2-3 people I graduated with who happen to stumble on my blog)- Who might read me. It was a surreal slice of nostalgia that brought me back to my home town. And furthermore compelled me to frass about it for a second or two. I'd save it for a written journal...or an LJ private post, really...but it creeped into me like no one's business and I felt strongly about writing it here.
Okay, Okay...enough justifications. Frass off if you don't dig it:
"They'd moved out over three years ago. And I realized I personally hadn't been there in over two."
Brooklyn Blvd remained moderately unchanged. The Brooklyn Center BK which became a Vietnamese Joint had become a VFW. The clinic which oversaw my big brothers allergy shots all those years was still there. The Bridgemans apparently closed and was scheduled for a grand-reopening in the same spot. The tiny mall on 63rd was still there...the Little Brooklyn's where big brother amazed the server with his ability to eat the entire enormous "Mexican Plate" used to be? An Asian food store...I still tell people that story.
Across the Boulevard, the place that was Zayre's was razed. Making way for a new strip mall. The 694 interchange was unchanged. The only icon missing was the enormous ITEN building. Our own skyscraper in the burbs. I lefted on 69th, noticing the long absent Taystee Outlet. (A place where we'd stock up on mini-donuts) and the mini-mall (site of the Adventures in Video that gave us our first VHS rental: "Dragonslayer". It was mom's B'day gift. And the Pop Shoppe...with their knock off cola's that we dutifully drank and returned their bottles) that had been replaced by another mini-mall...with an obligatory liquor store attached to a tobacco store...and Subway.
The street signs were new. Bordered and large lettered, fancier. I saw Starbucks on the corner where there had been...nothing? Before. How much business do you get, Mr. Bucks?
Post Office, check. Health Partners, Check (17 years since you diagnosed my Mono.) The streets were all there. I passed Maranatha...site of my big brother's first "real" job. New sign. Still the same. Pebble Creek apartments...where I went to a pool party and my friends hid my underwear when I was in the pool, sending me home (walking) crying. My junior high. Still there. No physical changes but I see flags of many nations hanging in the cafeteria.
I want to go home. But first, I think, let's try the ancestral manse. I almost past Colorado Ave. The tree's on the corner are so big ("When did they get so big?") And I drive down. I think of names and memories and see "For Sale" signs littering the front yards. I remember the names on that block. Mike. Nikki. Mitch. I drive and do a loop at the end cul-de-sac. Marci's old house still has that shed in the back ("And where they build the hockey rink. And where they had the pool where you and she snuck beneath the pool cover until both your parents thought you were dead and drowned. You. Got. Whupped!")
In and Oy lived across the street. They were Korean, but everyone assumed they knew Karate, right?
Back home, with the streets you know (Bethia, Brunswick, Colorado, Douglas) and you see the houses where you played when the world was small...and their names (Dave, Jimmy, Brady , Phil and Jeremy, Aaron, Emory, Brian, Jason, Brian, Brenda) And then your house:
Seriously. It hasn't been two years since your folks were trying to sell it. They were already in their new place. The economy was crappy. It took so long to sell it. I remember helping the clean out. The raking. The trips that were made "specifically" to my old house.
And here it is. It's yellow. Rather, the new vinyl siding is yellow. And there are 5 cars in both parking lots. And a new basketball hoop. I don't stay long. And I go.
The wait at Zane an 71st drives me nuts. For real. I almost get out of my car to hit the "Walk" button. I check out the elementary school. The hexagonal building is called a Community School now attached to a "Community Learning Center". The hockey/ice rink warming house is gone. I can barely see the new playground behind the scho...community center. "Emit Fo Eye" is gone (The "Eye of Time", which was a football shaped climby thing that my two friends and I played "Dr. Who")
73rd
Zaneway is gone. So is the underage selling liquor store, Bamboo House (Where I wanted pancakes and mom ordered me Moo Goo Gai Pan as a substitute, but big brother still got a cheeseburger. Incidentally, that was the earliest memory of "They serve dog!!!" stereotype. Unsubstantiated, but clearly...well. the malls gone isn't it?
Gone is the Speedy Mart- Home of many an ingested Drumstick/Whatchamacalit/Push Up/Big League Chew/Jolt/Kempswich...sugar...something...Video World, where Mom gave the owner permission to let you rent (underage) "R" rated movies (And eventually your first adult movie rental as a favor for your Blaine Girlfriend at age 18) DW's, the mini-diner. And the place that sold records your old man called a "Head Shop" and your folks wouldn't let you go in to.
No, there are brand new town homes in their place. Big. Pretty. And the awful part of me wonders why there are so many pretty brand new houses in this neighborhood and how long it will be before they go bad? The first bank I would get money for my mom at is now a Dental clinic. The bowling alley where I applied for my first job, more homes. How can a state in a housing deficit afford these many homes? Didn't my big brother get attacked by a woodchuck by Shingle Creek behind where those homes are?
(Right on Brooklyn Blvd)
Village North, gone. Homes to follow. I see White A##hole is still running. And the mini-mall (Wasn't there a Tradewinds Used Bookstore? Didn't Mom, Ro, and I just stock up on books there for fun?)Trying to get my bearings before PCHS (I see Rocky Roccoco...on the site of Gatti's...where I reprimanded my buddies for smoking at age 16 over sausage deep dish) BK, Arby's, even Mc D's...the big hitter's? All gone. (And f#ck. The things that happened at Village North. Everything. Concerts. Hockey banquets at Circus Circus. Tapes bought at Musicland. GI Joes bought at "Best". Walgreen's visits for that cute cashier. Heck, there was an IJA which begat a True Value which begat a outdoorsman store- which I applied for a job at- and didn't get. Gone.
Now there's a...I don't know..."rec" thing that cater's corporate deals. Blondie's is still there, as is the methodist church I attended as a youth. PCHS has a fancy new sign in front as well as some other exterior modifications...a far cry from the days when (cough cough) ne'er do wells stomped a pair of boobs in the snow outside the main stairway windows.
I decided on the direct route home, opting to take a left this time...up 69th and pissing off the fella behind me. I could see Prince of Peace in the distance. It looked undisturbed, and I remembered it had been 8 years since I set foot inside for a wedding, and 18 years since I was asked to come out on Easter Sunday to watch my brother's girlfriend and the girl my 15 year old-self loved canter.
I rounded up into Mounds Cemetery. In place since the late 19th century. An impressive feat that I'd never considered.
My mom, bro, and I (Amateur necrologists) would picnic here and look at the markers. There was one with a lamb on top (Years later, I'd learn that it'd mean a child had passed) that we nicknamed "Lambie". We'd eat mini-donuts from the Taystee thrift store down the street and look at the old headstones.
Many, Many years later this would be the place a former high school classmate of mine rested. It was here, at the ancient (snark) age of 33 I decided to pay my respects.
And I did. It was windy. And cold. And,God, I didn't know what to say. I felt like I should have said something...profound. But I just stared. For a few minutes. Then I was in Springville for some reason. Then I left. But...
...first I looked for Misty. I first happened upon her memorial one of the first times that I'd visited E. In Junior High she was a cheerleader, and had endeared to me by the fact that during gym class she had flashed her cheerleader trunks at me, and me directly. The next year she was transferred out, and fell out of memory. The only reason I remembered was her marker. 13 years ago.
I looked today, and couldn't find it. There was a picture imbeded in it too. I felt a little foolish. And got a smidgen misty. Then realized it was time to go home.
I crept up 69th to Freeway Blvd. (Quail St, Beard St, Palmer Lake Park where my Dad and I trained to go hiking in the Bridger/Teton's) past the industrial buildings (Which used to house "Zubaz"...before the irony) past the building which housed a seafood joint/Hispanic joint/Sports Bar (My first fear of shell fish came during my mom's birthday dinner and my dad pointed at the decorative mussell's and shook his head)
Super 8 is still there. So is Barnacle Bill's and the bowling alley (I had brunch with my dad and his old FBI/Sheriff's deputy buddies as recently as 2006...PS- Don't order egg beaters around them, lest you get strange looks) Then the freeway. Then Dowling.
I took a right today. Instead of a left. That's how it started.
It's been a minute since I've been to my original karate school in BC, well, Before I started the Ninja show at the BLB anyway. I've been itching to meet the new instructor, who RSVP told me was pretty good. Time and commitments being what they are have kept me away, sadly but... today though, I made it. And made a commitment to him that I'd go. And he was happy. And it was good.
After getting my ass kicked, then storing my gear in my trunk, and planning about how I would finish my afternoon before Dorajar finished her rehearsal, I whimsically decided to kill a minute with a drive to my home town...And here we go:
This is less romantic than the layperson would think. Small town people have their own version of nostagilia, believe me. It wasn't like I grew up in the middle of a bean field...but there are those folks- (All 2-3 people I graduated with who happen to stumble on my blog)- Who might read me. It was a surreal slice of nostalgia that brought me back to my home town. And furthermore compelled me to frass about it for a second or two. I'd save it for a written journal...or an LJ private post, really...but it creeped into me like no one's business and I felt strongly about writing it here.
Okay, Okay...enough justifications. Frass off if you don't dig it:
"They'd moved out over three years ago. And I realized I personally hadn't been there in over two."
Brooklyn Blvd remained moderately unchanged. The Brooklyn Center BK which became a Vietnamese Joint had become a VFW. The clinic which oversaw my big brothers allergy shots all those years was still there. The Bridgemans apparently closed and was scheduled for a grand-reopening in the same spot. The tiny mall on 63rd was still there...the Little Brooklyn's where big brother amazed the server with his ability to eat the entire enormous "Mexican Plate" used to be? An Asian food store...I still tell people that story.
Across the Boulevard, the place that was Zayre's was razed. Making way for a new strip mall. The 694 interchange was unchanged. The only icon missing was the enormous ITEN building. Our own skyscraper in the burbs. I lefted on 69th, noticing the long absent Taystee Outlet. (A place where we'd stock up on mini-donuts) and the mini-mall (site of the Adventures in Video that gave us our first VHS rental: "Dragonslayer". It was mom's B'day gift. And the Pop Shoppe...with their knock off cola's that we dutifully drank and returned their bottles) that had been replaced by another mini-mall...with an obligatory liquor store attached to a tobacco store...and Subway.
The street signs were new. Bordered and large lettered, fancier. I saw Starbucks on the corner where there had been...nothing? Before. How much business do you get, Mr. Bucks?
Post Office, check. Health Partners, Check (17 years since you diagnosed my Mono.) The streets were all there. I passed Maranatha...site of my big brother's first "real" job. New sign. Still the same. Pebble Creek apartments...where I went to a pool party and my friends hid my underwear when I was in the pool, sending me home (walking) crying. My junior high. Still there. No physical changes but I see flags of many nations hanging in the cafeteria.
I want to go home. But first, I think, let's try the ancestral manse. I almost past Colorado Ave. The tree's on the corner are so big ("When did they get so big?") And I drive down. I think of names and memories and see "For Sale" signs littering the front yards. I remember the names on that block. Mike. Nikki. Mitch. I drive and do a loop at the end cul-de-sac. Marci's old house still has that shed in the back ("And where they build the hockey rink. And where they had the pool where you and she snuck beneath the pool cover until both your parents thought you were dead and drowned. You. Got. Whupped!")
In and Oy lived across the street. They were Korean, but everyone assumed they knew Karate, right?
Back home, with the streets you know (Bethia, Brunswick, Colorado, Douglas) and you see the houses where you played when the world was small...and their names (Dave, Jimmy, Brady , Phil and Jeremy, Aaron, Emory, Brian, Jason, Brian, Brenda) And then your house:
Seriously. It hasn't been two years since your folks were trying to sell it. They were already in their new place. The economy was crappy. It took so long to sell it. I remember helping the clean out. The raking. The trips that were made "specifically" to my old house.
And here it is. It's yellow. Rather, the new vinyl siding is yellow. And there are 5 cars in both parking lots. And a new basketball hoop. I don't stay long. And I go.
The wait at Zane an 71st drives me nuts. For real. I almost get out of my car to hit the "Walk" button. I check out the elementary school. The hexagonal building is called a Community School now attached to a "Community Learning Center". The hockey/ice rink warming house is gone. I can barely see the new playground behind the scho...community center. "Emit Fo Eye" is gone (The "Eye of Time", which was a football shaped climby thing that my two friends and I played "Dr. Who")
73rd
Zaneway is gone. So is the underage selling liquor store, Bamboo House (Where I wanted pancakes and mom ordered me Moo Goo Gai Pan as a substitute, but big brother still got a cheeseburger. Incidentally, that was the earliest memory of "They serve dog!!!" stereotype. Unsubstantiated, but clearly...well. the malls gone isn't it?
Gone is the Speedy Mart- Home of many an ingested Drumstick/Whatchamacalit/Push Up/Big League Chew/Jolt/Kempswich...sugar...something...Video World, where Mom gave the owner permission to let you rent (underage) "R" rated movies (And eventually your first adult movie rental as a favor for your Blaine Girlfriend at age 18) DW's, the mini-diner. And the place that sold records your old man called a "Head Shop" and your folks wouldn't let you go in to.
No, there are brand new town homes in their place. Big. Pretty. And the awful part of me wonders why there are so many pretty brand new houses in this neighborhood and how long it will be before they go bad? The first bank I would get money for my mom at is now a Dental clinic. The bowling alley where I applied for my first job, more homes. How can a state in a housing deficit afford these many homes? Didn't my big brother get attacked by a woodchuck by Shingle Creek behind where those homes are?
(Right on Brooklyn Blvd)
Village North, gone. Homes to follow. I see White A##hole is still running. And the mini-mall (Wasn't there a Tradewinds Used Bookstore? Didn't Mom, Ro, and I just stock up on books there for fun?)Trying to get my bearings before PCHS (I see Rocky Roccoco...on the site of Gatti's...where I reprimanded my buddies for smoking at age 16 over sausage deep dish) BK, Arby's, even Mc D's...the big hitter's? All gone. (And f#ck. The things that happened at Village North. Everything. Concerts. Hockey banquets at Circus Circus. Tapes bought at Musicland. GI Joes bought at "Best". Walgreen's visits for that cute cashier. Heck, there was an IJA which begat a True Value which begat a outdoorsman store- which I applied for a job at- and didn't get. Gone.
Now there's a...I don't know..."rec" thing that cater's corporate deals. Blondie's is still there, as is the methodist church I attended as a youth. PCHS has a fancy new sign in front as well as some other exterior modifications...a far cry from the days when (cough cough) ne'er do wells stomped a pair of boobs in the snow outside the main stairway windows.
I decided on the direct route home, opting to take a left this time...up 69th and pissing off the fella behind me. I could see Prince of Peace in the distance. It looked undisturbed, and I remembered it had been 8 years since I set foot inside for a wedding, and 18 years since I was asked to come out on Easter Sunday to watch my brother's girlfriend and the girl my 15 year old-self loved canter.
I rounded up into Mounds Cemetery. In place since the late 19th century. An impressive feat that I'd never considered.
My mom, bro, and I (Amateur necrologists) would picnic here and look at the markers. There was one with a lamb on top (Years later, I'd learn that it'd mean a child had passed) that we nicknamed "Lambie". We'd eat mini-donuts from the Taystee thrift store down the street and look at the old headstones.
Many, Many years later this would be the place a former high school classmate of mine rested. It was here, at the ancient (snark) age of 33 I decided to pay my respects.
And I did. It was windy. And cold. And,God, I didn't know what to say. I felt like I should have said something...profound. But I just stared. For a few minutes. Then I was in Springville for some reason. Then I left. But...
...first I looked for Misty. I first happened upon her memorial one of the first times that I'd visited E. In Junior High she was a cheerleader, and had endeared to me by the fact that during gym class she had flashed her cheerleader trunks at me, and me directly. The next year she was transferred out, and fell out of memory. The only reason I remembered was her marker. 13 years ago.
I looked today, and couldn't find it. There was a picture imbeded in it too. I felt a little foolish. And got a smidgen misty. Then realized it was time to go home.
I crept up 69th to Freeway Blvd. (Quail St, Beard St, Palmer Lake Park where my Dad and I trained to go hiking in the Bridger/Teton's) past the industrial buildings (Which used to house "Zubaz"...before the irony) past the building which housed a seafood joint/Hispanic joint/Sports Bar (My first fear of shell fish came during my mom's birthday dinner and my dad pointed at the decorative mussell's and shook his head)
Super 8 is still there. So is Barnacle Bill's and the bowling alley (I had brunch with my dad and his old FBI/Sheriff's deputy buddies as recently as 2006...PS- Don't order egg beaters around them, lest you get strange looks) Then the freeway. Then Dowling.
Friday, April 11, 2008
YAR!!! Other Drivers!!!
So Mother Nature is getting her final licks in this month, per normal, and my commute home was no different than any other commute save that it was extended nearly forty minutes. Not that I mind, don't get me wrong. When I first exited the cloverleaf from 494 to 94 WB the inability of my windshield wipers to keep up with the spray from fellow commuters slipstream spritzing had my stomach in knots.
This morning, I dutifully turned on my vehicle to let her warm up and brushed off my car and the 'Beans. Now, for the non-MN readers...all...none of you...a snow brush is a standard purchased accessory for all vehicles in the state. Why? It beats the s#it out of trying to manually "hand brush" your car and when it wet snows the drops below freezing you have zero chance of removing the ice "sans scraper".
Which brings me to today. Can I get an explanation of the douchepackers who decide that they're in such a hurry that they can scamper off into the world (read: On the freeways) with a full sheet of snow completely covering their rear windshield?
I wish I were lying. But I was behind a Saturn Ion which, upon exiting the freeway, WAY overcompensated their turn and quickly brought themselves back to being in front of me by way of almost sideswiping my car in the process. (I had to drive into the shoulder, and I fear the shoulder)
The s#itty thing is, the snow wasn't even that bad. I was able to actually wipe it off with a gloved hand in one foul swoop.
This morning, I dutifully turned on my vehicle to let her warm up and brushed off my car and the 'Beans. Now, for the non-MN readers...all...none of you...a snow brush is a standard purchased accessory for all vehicles in the state. Why? It beats the s#it out of trying to manually "hand brush" your car and when it wet snows the drops below freezing you have zero chance of removing the ice "sans scraper".
Which brings me to today. Can I get an explanation of the douchepackers who decide that they're in such a hurry that they can scamper off into the world (read: On the freeways) with a full sheet of snow completely covering their rear windshield?
I wish I were lying. But I was behind a Saturn Ion which, upon exiting the freeway, WAY overcompensated their turn and quickly brought themselves back to being in front of me by way of almost sideswiping my car in the process. (I had to drive into the shoulder, and I fear the shoulder)
The s#itty thing is, the snow wasn't even that bad. I was able to actually wipe it off with a gloved hand in one foul swoop.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Fitness Fads
So as I was frassin' to buddies at my friend Shinobi-Wan's going away party last weekend (ps. Be safe, friend. I mean it) I was talkin to Key-Sung, Matty-Boom Boom and anyone else within earshot (The house) That it was my goal to lose some Ell Bee Esses before the Fringe show this summer. It comes as no shock that I've put on 15 plus pounds since my early '06 blues, and also subsequent s#it weather, losing my "Y" membership, and a busy '07 have put a MAJOR damper in my fitness goals.
No longer.
The new membership is great, and I'm hitting the gym anywhere's from 3-5 days a week depending. Thing is, since I'm older I've had to re-think my routine. For example...
Before, the high intensity/short period weight sessions interspersed with moderate cardio meant keeping the weight down. What I've discovered is that even with a healthy lo-cal diet, I start to bulk up. Meaning, my back/chest/arms/shoulders start to get mass while the rest of me turns into Vince Vaughn after a bender. Boo for aging.
So, I'm tweaking. And I've probably lost around 5 pounds while I experiment. What it HAS got me doing, is reminiscing about the days when Ma and I tried nearly every health supplement in GNC when I was younger as well as equipment. More specifically, bulls#it equipment. More specifically, the Red Flyer wagon wheel with handles that was in my basement which purported to "build abs", the three elastic-y springs with handles guaranteed to "broaden your chest" and the mini-trampoline which...I don't know. Those bastards, even their larger cousins, are death machines. F#ck, we just tried using it to dunk basketballs. And what happened to me was that even though I thought it was beautifully positioned 'neath our basketball hoop didn't do the trick. And my dreams of "Being Like Mike" were squashed as the stupid thing stayed in place about as well as if I tried jumping on a skateboard positioned over banana peels...on a bed of used motor oil.
So it is with great pleasure, that Cracked.com has acknowledged this as well. And hopefully debunks some exercise myths that my fellow exercise enthusiasts can benefit from. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a 15 year high school reunion to skinny-up for.
http://www.cracked.com/article_16104_sticks-stools-7-random-objects-sold-as-exercise-machines.html
No longer.
The new membership is great, and I'm hitting the gym anywhere's from 3-5 days a week depending. Thing is, since I'm older I've had to re-think my routine. For example...
Before, the high intensity/short period weight sessions interspersed with moderate cardio meant keeping the weight down. What I've discovered is that even with a healthy lo-cal diet, I start to bulk up. Meaning, my back/chest/arms/shoulders start to get mass while the rest of me turns into Vince Vaughn after a bender. Boo for aging.
So, I'm tweaking. And I've probably lost around 5 pounds while I experiment. What it HAS got me doing, is reminiscing about the days when Ma and I tried nearly every health supplement in GNC when I was younger as well as equipment. More specifically, bulls#it equipment. More specifically, the Red Flyer wagon wheel with handles that was in my basement which purported to "build abs", the three elastic-y springs with handles guaranteed to "broaden your chest" and the mini-trampoline which...I don't know. Those bastards, even their larger cousins, are death machines. F#ck, we just tried using it to dunk basketballs. And what happened to me was that even though I thought it was beautifully positioned 'neath our basketball hoop didn't do the trick. And my dreams of "Being Like Mike" were squashed as the stupid thing stayed in place about as well as if I tried jumping on a skateboard positioned over banana peels...on a bed of used motor oil.
So it is with great pleasure, that Cracked.com has acknowledged this as well. And hopefully debunks some exercise myths that my fellow exercise enthusiasts can benefit from. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a 15 year high school reunion to skinny-up for.
http://www.cracked.com/article_16104_sticks-stools-7-random-objects-sold-as-exercise-machines.html
Is it sad...
That I just want to stay home this weekend, rake, putz in the yard, drop some Spring seed and just...you know be outdoorsy. Get the work gloves on. Hang out at Uncle Frankies in front of the Homey Depot.
And then I hear tell it's gonna dump a hella snow/sleet over the next 48 hours or so.
Flip.
And then I hear tell it's gonna dump a hella snow/sleet over the next 48 hours or so.
Flip.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Funny business, for readers
First. Happy birthday Zachary Ryan. You are one year old, and cuteness pie. I wanna eachooup.
Second, if RSVP hadn't shown me this in his basement on da laptop (With us laughing uncontrollably, and dad shaking his head saying "I don't get it") I would probably NOT have the headache from laughing I do now. Only because my pre-during-NOREFUNDS-routine consists of imbibing a low-sugar MONSTER energy drink. For no reason other than I am a monster.
Enjoy. For those Jersey lovers, "My new Haircut" (Which has gotten way too much air time, I'm sure, before I had heard of it.)
KENYAN'S!!!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRuNxHqwazs
Part two: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-3qncy5Qfk&NR=1
(Doc? You may recognize this dude from your gym)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JMOh-cul6M
Second, if RSVP hadn't shown me this in his basement on da laptop (With us laughing uncontrollably, and dad shaking his head saying "I don't get it") I would probably NOT have the headache from laughing I do now. Only because my pre-during-NOREFUNDS-routine consists of imbibing a low-sugar MONSTER energy drink. For no reason other than I am a monster.
Enjoy. For those Jersey lovers, "My new Haircut" (Which has gotten way too much air time, I'm sure, before I had heard of it.)
KENYAN'S!!!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRuNxHqwazs
Part two: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-3qncy5Qfk&NR=1
(Doc? You may recognize this dude from your gym)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JMOh-cul6M
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Wow...Deja View...
Yesterday I was walking down to the local Walgreens to take advantage of the exquisite weather we were experiencing. (A post 60 degree day. The first since November of last year) The combination of the sun, warm weather, smell of Spring/rotting leaves/wet and thawing grass...even the fishy smell that emanates in the distance due to the paper mill? Well I found myself thrust back to almost 8 years prior.
In April of 2000 I was emerging from a patch of quarter-life crisis in a big bad way. I had come off of 6 years of independence to living with my parents, to next finding an apartment with my newly single big brother.
We found an apartment near the U of MN campus on SE 4th street. The building was peopled with students, and Ro and I moved to the top floor apartment which we promptly dubbed "The camper" (It was long, almost tubular. And our rooms were on opposite ends of the place. No real "kitchen" to speak of, but it was cheap. And close to our respective offices)
For some strange reason, things were starting to look oddly progressive. The month of April found me getting past the quarter life crisis and into making some new decisions and sending my life into directions. I had stopped my previous casual dating liaisons with a promise to myself after the last one (who proved...kinda crazy? No dead bunnies, but sakes...6am the next day is not when you start screaming "WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME BACK?!?!?") a few weeks before, and decided I would stop acting that way altogether. For real. I was no good at it. I hate the phone and talking on it as a rule, and that got misinterpreted WAY too many times.
I stopped hanging out with people who were acting self-destructively toward one and other, and eventually me. I bought a new (used) car, retiring the gargantuan behemoth gas guzzler- The Crown Vicky. I scored a promotion at the bullseye after 3 years in the same position when my manager said to me: "You seem extremely under-challenged". (Please note, this promotion would also see the downward spiral at the office, which in turn prompted me to tenure my resignation exactly one year later due to panic attacks every day I scanned in...and to become a singing cowboy. I led a charmed life.)
Most importantly, I actively looked for and scored a paid gig to quell my antsy "Stop taking every gig you're handed and try, try to challenge yourself). And by paid, I mean "Well Paid". As in "Holy shit, they pay this much for rehearsals...AND the show?") I was working out consistently, and here's where I wanna double back for a second: It was a beautiful April day in 2000, and I was able to go jogging outside for the first time in shorts and a t-shirt. I crossed the Saint Anthony footbridge (where it got chilly again) and came back 'round up University. There were students everywhere. They were only a few years younger than me...on bikes, in front of Dunn Bros, walking, hanging on their porches. There were same smells I smelled just yesterday and there was the same feeling of optimism and progression that were running rampant in my brain.
I could hear the sounds of radios with the "young people" (I'm a grampa. But what do I know. My musical tastes/preferences stopped circa 1993) where music was thumping from houses: Sisqo, Outkast, Pink, and Nelly Furtado were all getting new airplay/video's/follower, while boy bands were seeing themselves at the cresting point before solo careers and coming out of the closet became the larger news.
I bought myself a DVD player. I later ended up getting my first steady girlfriend in 4 years. I went down the Apple River (For what is now, the last time ever) I obtained a new cache of buddies, one of whom I'd proudly be standing as his best man 6 years later.
I guess spring'll do that to you. Nose. Stagia.
In April of 2000 I was emerging from a patch of quarter-life crisis in a big bad way. I had come off of 6 years of independence to living with my parents, to next finding an apartment with my newly single big brother.
We found an apartment near the U of MN campus on SE 4th street. The building was peopled with students, and Ro and I moved to the top floor apartment which we promptly dubbed "The camper" (It was long, almost tubular. And our rooms were on opposite ends of the place. No real "kitchen" to speak of, but it was cheap. And close to our respective offices)
For some strange reason, things were starting to look oddly progressive. The month of April found me getting past the quarter life crisis and into making some new decisions and sending my life into directions. I had stopped my previous casual dating liaisons with a promise to myself after the last one (who proved...kinda crazy? No dead bunnies, but sakes...6am the next day is not when you start screaming "WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME BACK?!?!?") a few weeks before, and decided I would stop acting that way altogether. For real. I was no good at it. I hate the phone and talking on it as a rule, and that got misinterpreted WAY too many times.
I stopped hanging out with people who were acting self-destructively toward one and other, and eventually me. I bought a new (used) car, retiring the gargantuan behemoth gas guzzler- The Crown Vicky. I scored a promotion at the bullseye after 3 years in the same position when my manager said to me: "You seem extremely under-challenged". (Please note, this promotion would also see the downward spiral at the office, which in turn prompted me to tenure my resignation exactly one year later due to panic attacks every day I scanned in...and to become a singing cowboy. I led a charmed life.)
Most importantly, I actively looked for and scored a paid gig to quell my antsy "Stop taking every gig you're handed and try, try to challenge yourself). And by paid, I mean "Well Paid". As in "Holy shit, they pay this much for rehearsals...AND the show?") I was working out consistently, and here's where I wanna double back for a second: It was a beautiful April day in 2000, and I was able to go jogging outside for the first time in shorts and a t-shirt. I crossed the Saint Anthony footbridge (where it got chilly again) and came back 'round up University. There were students everywhere. They were only a few years younger than me...on bikes, in front of Dunn Bros, walking, hanging on their porches. There were same smells I smelled just yesterday and there was the same feeling of optimism and progression that were running rampant in my brain.
I could hear the sounds of radios with the "young people" (I'm a grampa. But what do I know. My musical tastes/preferences stopped circa 1993) where music was thumping from houses: Sisqo, Outkast, Pink, and Nelly Furtado were all getting new airplay/video's/follower, while boy bands were seeing themselves at the cresting point before solo careers and coming out of the closet became the larger news.
I bought myself a DVD player. I later ended up getting my first steady girlfriend in 4 years. I went down the Apple River (For what is now, the last time ever) I obtained a new cache of buddies, one of whom I'd proudly be standing as his best man 6 years later.
I guess spring'll do that to you. Nose. Stagia.
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