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The music you should now be hearing is one of many items that I would like to come out on DVD now! For those who might not hear the music ... here and here and here are some other things I would also like on DVD. Now. (There's a long list where that comes from, believe me.)  Meet the coworkers. Jake. The publisher, and friend from college who somehow managed to survive as editor of a very shoddy school newspaper at Bard with very few staff and barely any money to print. Jacob is from Louisville and is borderline genius when he tries. Don't get me wrong, this kid has drive that would make most lazy people cringe. But the constant weed, booze, and cigs surely slow him down. You won't really notice this though, unless you try to tell him something while he's busy. Multi-tasking is not his specialty, yet he somehow does it all damn day long. He's as liberal as they get, but his Kentucky background holds back some of his more leftist thoughts, at least he'd like to think so. But all in all, Jacob just likes to have a good time. He's afraid of robots taking over human civilization, and he'll give you all the historical reasons why you should be too. You couldn't hate this kid if you tried. Pat. Good friend of Jacob's, he's from the Pennsylvania poconos, not TOO far from my hometown, but certainly not Philly-blooded. Patsy's an intellectual type with a mild New York City attitude. He's writing a novel about a man who lives on a corporate blimp in a future world where war is not fought with military but by intense advertising campaigns. Patsy, perhaps even more than Jacob, likes to have a good time. Perhaps smarter than Jacob, he's not quite as likeable. At work, he has been given the title "Director of Marketing and Circulation," which basically means nothing, but he takes his job seriously. Patsy lives with a guy named Pakki, and they live in a house with a cat that thinks he's master of the two of them and therefore pisses on everything to mark his territory. When a bunch of us were stoned and drunk after work one night, Patsy surprised us each with a spaghetti dinner. He's a good guy. Sam. Though out of the office most of the week making sales presentations, Sam is hard to miss. A big black man at least 6'4", he epitomizes Southern slowwwww, though I don't even know if he's from the South. Sam recently bought an old, baby blue Cadillac for about $6,000, a definite deal, he says, and he should know because he's being selling all his life. Despite this, he's not the best salesman for our newspaper business precisely because he sounds like he's selling cars. You can't stay mad at Sam when he accidentally slams the copy machine shut, or knocks over pile of papers, but you don't necessarily feel bad that he gets on your nerves so easily. Sam is likely to think he knows exactly what he's doing, though anyone around him can see that's not always the case. Zogg. First name Steven, Zogg is our other sales guy, a 250+ pound, 20-something guy who just showed up at the office yesterday for the first time in the two in a half weeks that I've been working there. Like Sam, he is also out making sales presentations, but I don't believe he has actually sold anything since early July. But with a name like Zogg, who can complain? It's a small office, I assure you. So the people stopped to wait As the traffic rolled and the wind blew cold And the hour grew dark and late. Zoom-varoom, trucks, trailers, Bikes and limousines, Clatterin' by-me oh my! Won't that light turn green? But the days turned weeks, and the weeks turned months And there on the corner they stood, Twiddlin' their thumbs till the changin' comes The way good people should. And if you walk by that corner now, You may think it's rather strange To see them there as they hopefully gaze With the very same smile on their very same face As they patiently stand in the very same place And wait for the light to change. At the Georgia Chiefs of Police Association Summer Conference today ... "Hi, Mike from the S------ S----. We're a weekly newspaper focusing on crime awareness and prevention. I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about what your presenting." -"Sure. I'm Jeff XXXX; I work for Daimler-Chrysler. We're showing law enforcement officials various vehicle packages they can use in their department, namely the 300C and the Dodge Magnum. How long are you going to be here?" "About another hour." -"Here, take one for a drive." "Umm..." -"They're parked right out front ... Try them both." (hands over keys) "Do you ... I mean ... " -"Go ahead. Have fun with them." In the blur of last night, there is a memory of driving around downtown Savannah, top down, in a car not much different than this one ... and loving every second of it.  For work the other day I took pictures of horses. That was pretty relaxing. I began to think, Ya know ... this is what I'd really like to do ... just work on a farm and take care of horses. And then I realized, No, I just want to be a horse.  In case you were wondering, yes, these things should make sense. See. I knew my excitement in moving down here was shading the fact that I'd have to actually do real work when I got here. Now I'm here, and I'm ready for a vacation. Damn, am I ready. Hearing sirens isn't an uncommon occurrence here in this new apartment of mine. After all, the complex is bordered by two main thoroughfares. There was a moment this weekend, however, when the sirens seemed a bit louder than usual, so, as is the case whenever I hear something loud outside my building, I crept up to the window and carefully peeked through the blinds. Things that have happened since I've moved here haven't been exactly normal, so when I saw firetrucks coming towards my building from both directions, I simply thought, "Oh. Well, let's see how this plays out." When a lady came running out of the building next to mine at about the same time that a fully-geared firefighter ran into the building with an axe, I thought, "Hm. This could get interesting." By the time the fourth full-sized firetruck pulled up in front of my building, along with three smaller fire vehicles and second alarmers squads, I stepped away from the window and sighed with the annoyance of having to decide what items I would take with me if I was forced to evacuate. My computer. My Phillies hat. My entire DVD collection. The evacuation itself would not have surprised me really. In fact, by now I have come to expect such scenarios. In the end, the firefighters became more lax, and the trucks began to leave one-by-one. The firefighter who had run inside with the axe eventually came out, removed his coat and chatted with other firemen for the next half-hour. No, my new home did not burn down. But with my luck, it just might any day now.  One cause, of many: 
(click me)  11:23 AM Ah, the Savannah nightlife ... now this is a sight to see. Tourists, punky art students, army officials, ghetto-stars, folks from the backwoods, they're all here. And because of some very lax drinking laws, they're all carrying plastic cups of beer from one bar to the next. The to-go cup. Have a few drinks, want to leave? Get one for the road. Ask for a to-go cup of your favorite drink, and you're off with you're fully-legal plastic cup of goodness. And these aren't your average blue or red party drinking cups. Nice, thick cups you could step on and not destroy (though, why would you want to do this?) Bring your cup right into the next bar and everything's all good. I had a revelation last night that I should be carrying a whiffle ball and bat every time I go out. It's just necessary. This way, a game is always ready. In the street. In a parking lot. Everywhere. At first, it will be a little embarrassing. I will have to answer questions. After a while, people will call me batboy, and they'll shout from across streets, "Hey Batboy, hit me a popup!" And I'll give my batboy call, "Hayooooooooo" and hit them a popup and everyone will cheer. I will leave downtown a hero every night. What an interesting phenomenon it is when a person you haven't spoken to or seen in a while suddenly has something different about the way they speak or the things they say. Sometimes it's even the way their laugh has changed. It's disconcerting really. You just want to say, "Stop that. Why are you doing that? Where did you pick that up?" And then, eventually, you readjust. The job is going to get stressful, there's no doubt about that. It is becoming increasingly clear that no one in Savannah knows how to write, which, in case you were uncertain, makes filling a newspaper quite difficult. Advertising sales at the paper are finally beginning to take off. The only thing left to do now is make sure there are articles every week, and that's where I come in. Shit. You mean I actually have to do work? (Anyone who wants to write about crime in Savannah, let me know. $.10/word) Meanwhile, the heat index reached 115 degrees today, and tomorrow may be even hotter. People from home tell me they are having a strangely mild summer this year, with temps in the mid-70s right now. Well, sheeeet. In other good news, my Jeep isn't totaled, which I feared it would be. Now, if I can just find the money to rent a car for a while, maybe I can actually get the thing fixed. I'm really not digging the ghetto-crashed look right now, or the crunching sound of my tires rubbing against metal every time I turn the wheel. I'm also not digging the car's broken A/C. ----- Have I mentioned that I have the most uncomfortable futon ever made? Sitting on this thing for more than five minutes pretty much feels like my the weight of my body is crushing my spine on a metal bar. This does wonders for my back, really. ----- Since recent financial estimates point to my being broke and unable to pay next month's rent or any bills, I have put a cap on spending. This means, among other things, that much of my current furniture is made out of cardboard, except of course my futon, but who the hell wants to sit on that thing? Yes, these empty Granny Smith apple boxes will do just fine for now. Meanwhile, over the past few weeks, my body has became ridden with mysterious bruises. These pictures were taken a few days ago, but plenty of new bruises, most on the backs of my legs, have appeared since. Merrry! 
About a week later ... I've moved ... I've been in another accident ... I've thought my digital camera was stolen from my apartment (really I had just put it in the bathroom trashcan, silly me) ... I've gotten lost ... I've avoided sunburn in 110-degree heat ... I've bought a new wardrobe of deliciously geeky clothes for work ... I've finally secured an oh-so-wonderful broadband connection. The major observable differences between the burbs of Savannah and the burbs of Philadelphia: -In Savannah, EVERYONE has rims. 18-inch, 20-inch, 24-inch, Spinners. No matter how old or beat-up the car, one out of every five has aftermarket rims. Some look amazing, others hilarious, many ridiculous. From what I gather, the more one spends on rims, and the less compatible the rims are with the type of car (i.e. the more work it and money it takes to put them on) the more respect that person receives from his peers. -Willow Grove, Pennsylvania, is an entirely too-overdeveloped town, but it pales in comparison to the burbs in Savannah. My apartment is five minutes in between two huge shopping malls, both nicer and perhaps larger the three-story mall within walking distance of my PA home. The six-lane road on which I live offers every commercial store or restaurant chain you can think of, and on both sides of the street. A Home Depot is directly across from a Lowes. An OfficeMax is within walking distance from a Staples and an Office Depot. Burger King, Wendy's, McDonalds, KFC, Chick-fil-a, Checkers, Taco Bell, Arby's, Pizza Hut, Dominos. K-Mart. Wal-Mart. They're all on my street. -In Savannah, no matter how tough a person looks, their attitude is almost always amicable and laid back. Yes, homicides, theft, burglaries, robberies and many more crimes happen more frequently here than in the average American city, but I challenge you to find one suspect who isn't, gosh-darn it, a good guy. -People in Savannah are said to move much slower than your everyday Yankee citizen, but this certainly doesn't apply on the roadways. Drivers are just as, if not more, aggressive than ones you will find around Philadelphia, and they're not afraid to use their horns to let you know you're doing something they don't approve of. ----- My apartment complex isn't the nicest in town, but it's what I get for being poor and finding the place online. Had I the time to reseach more thoroughly, surely I would have looked in the downtown area. The differences between the two areas are plentiful, despite the 15-minute drive between them. But, that said, I do love about every inch of my apartment from the police-monitored intrusion alarm to the huge walk-in closet which will one-day become my retro smoking den. Despite the car accident on my third day here, which just may be the last stress that my wallet will take, everything is pretty good so far. Tomorrow I start work with some old pals from Bard, and I will ultimately learn whether the move down south was a smart one, or one that will drive me insane (or, at least, more so than I already am.) Merry Christmas, everybody! MERRRRRY! 
 In the past week I: -Found a place to live -Had a conference call with peeps in Louisville, KY -Cashed in $561 in change at the bank (and won a t-shirt) -Was in a car accident -Played whiffle ball at midnight -Drank 15 beers and seven shots ... and counting -Did drunken flips onto a hotel bed -Said another (and thank goodness final) goodbye to my coworkers Tomorrow night, I leave for Savannah. 
Not me |
Late night snacks. Bite-sized ramblings. Old-fashioned eats, served fresh daily. Open 24-7.  Other blogs Fireballs and Tsunami JeffreyDavis.net Mismatched Parentheses NimbleSixpence One Tortured Soul Palpably Inadequate Picnic, Lightning Pony Legs, Temporarily Supernouveau Wander Lust In my DVD player Archives June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 Other stuff Homestarrunner One Slime DeepDiscountDVD Olde English Sketch Comedy Live Music Archive Copy Army Copywriting Service Love & Radio This One Time Email me mmjunior / at / hotmail   
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