 On another note, I won the award for best costume in the department on Friday! Not too bad, considering I was basically just using it as an excuse to go psycho on my coworkers all day. While we're on the subject of celebration, you should know that I totally got lost driving through Queens this weekend, and yet I found my way without any directions! Come on, that's a success, right? I can barely find my way around here without directions! Okay, so I technically had a map. But it was a really crappy map! Ooo, and I also got a completely free breakfast on Sunday because I tried to catch a mouse for the manager of a restaurant in Manhattan. Didn't catch the little guy, but my French toast was delicious. Wow, I'm on a roll here. Let's see ... Oh! My car heater is suddenly working again! And I paid my rent on time! And I got a Circuit City rebate in the mail! And tomorrow is the first day of November! Happy Halloween.    There are a few events from the company Halloween Catacombs Party last week that I remember very clearly: getting a massage from a woman with blood dripping from her mouth; being personally insulted by a guy swallowing fire; having chains dropped in my lap by a guy standing on top of my dinner plate; watching a coworker unexpectedly sing Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" after stealing the mic from the MC; inviting all the locals at the bar to next weekend's birthday extravanganza. The are a few other events, however, that might have slipped my mind completely if it weren't for the helpful reminders from my coworkers: being challenged to a $100 game of beer pong (a game I have never played) by a girl I had barely ever spoken to previously; learning that the same girl had passed out and was physically carried out of the bar only minutes later; spilling a "Dirty Girl Scout" shot all over my friend's girlfriend's new pocketbook; blasting Hotel California to drown out the sounds of a crying coworker during the car ride home. More pictures here!  For boss appreciation week, we requested Tickles the Elephant come in and deliver a singing telegram. It was absolutely amazing. Not too much else going on in these parts recently. Thinking about getting a second job. Planning a short vacation to Buffalo in a couple weeks. Organizing a huge "November Birthday Extravaganza." (NOV5, wanna come?) Wishing the heater in my car was working. Hoping this site will suddenly redesign itself when I'm not looking. Life is short but sweet for certain. I've been reading through my archives a lot recently to remind myself of what I was going through around this time last year. And yep, things were falling apart pretty bad. I remember spending hours, every day, trying to learn how to play this really sappy Dave Matthews Band song on my guitar. I'd listen to it over and over again, and play the notes until my fingers hurt. It had to be perfect, but it never was. I had barely picked up my guitar in years and suddenly I was pissed that I wasn't a professional. The frustration was awful. Hand me a guitar today and I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to play that song. In fact, until tonight I had forgotten about it completely. I found it on an iTunes playlist I never listen to, and immediately the memories came back ... very, very vividly. I admit, there are those days when I come home from work a bit depressed or with the exhausted feeling of "I'm just going to to a lie on this couch for the next couple hundred years, okay?" but all it takes is one cheesy DMB song to remind me how ridiculously pitiful I was only 12 months ago, and how infinitely happier I am now. Ghost Conestoga wagons, haunted hotels, people drowning, hanging themselves, falling down flights of stairs, an opera house built on the site of a Native American massacre ... For the price of $13, these are the stories you can learn on the Ghost Tour of Lancaster County, though the scariest things you might encounter on the tour include a guy dressed as a pirate, horse manure, and some dude flashing his lights in a VW parked across from the cemetery. I've been looking for a good scare recently, because that's what October does to me. I want to find something that frightens me to near death and leaves me sleeping with the lights on for about two months. Then, I can tell everyone about it and they can all make fun of me for being such a wuss. But the most recent plan that my boss and I have concocted is to find some run-down farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, break in, stay the night, and videotape ourselves being freaked out about nothing. Of course, this plan only sounds good to me during the daytime. Often, I'll wake up late at night and think to myself, "Okay, this is about the same time that we'd be sitting in complete darkness, waiting for strange sounds, sightings or eerie taps on our shoulders." And then I realize ... FUCK THAT! There's no way I could do it. Let's just assume for a second I could gather up the nerve to get my legs to carry me inside that run-down farmhouse. If something actually happened while I was in there, I couldn't just shrug it off with a laugh and say, "Heh, that was pretty cool." I'd either be running through a cornfield screaming to the top of my lungs, or I'd simply have a heart attack and die right on the spot. So, for now, I think I'm just going to stick with the overpriced tour of Strasburg, Pa, and hope to god the sketchy guy in the VW doesn't come to get me. I haven't been offering many downloads recently, so here are a few random songs I've been listening to over the past few months ... (Right-click/save target as) //GorillazXXKidsWithGuns\\ //SolexXXShootShoot\\ //ManuChaoXXDesaparecido\\ //JoannaNewsomXXTheBookOfRightOn\\ //TheBraveryXXHonestMistake\\ The company I work for requires every employee to take part in a 9-week public speaking class, inspired by the more in-depth Dale Carnegie Training courses, and run by HR. For two hours every Wednesday, we get together, give speeches, share out innermost secrets, and cry. Well, some people cry. Others, like myself, like to just sit back and silently scoff at the idea of "improving ourselves" for the sake of a better work environment. After all, I don't need to learn how to speak! I'm a copywriter! I write copy. No talking involved. Give me a keyboard and I'll give you some productivity. What's all this "speaking" stuff about? Nonetheless, the course is intense. No podiums, no cheat sheets. Just you, a crowd of people staring at you, and someone shouting "20 seconds!" when your time is almost up. Today, I had to give my "vision" speech: Explain how you envision your life in three to six months after improving certain "drivers for success," such as self-confidence, people skills, and other BS. So, I talked about worrying, which is a true problem I have. I never stress about the important things in life ... saving money, advancing my career, surviving a bird flu pandemic. You could tell me I have a 90 percent chance of getting into a horrible accident the second I walk out my apartment door, but you know, that's all right. I'll get through it. It'll all work out in the end, seriously. It might even make my day a little interesting. But, it's the small stuff that gets to me, the daily worrying that leads to my more neurotic tendencies. "Why is this treadmill making so much noise?!" "Why did the waitress make that face when I said I had a reservation??" So, I vowed to work towards reducing these worries and somehow ended my speech with, "I'd also like to start shaving more often, which is why I bought a new electric razor the other day. I'm really excited about it." Ugh. Only 7 more weeks to go. I should note, however, that I am making an honest effort to avoid being completely negative about this course. We have to read three self-help books by Mr. Carnegie, among them: "How to Win Friends and Influence People," and "How to Stop Worrying and Start Living." There's only so much of this I can take, but hey, if I can come out of this thing as a slightly more normal and more likeable person, then that's just fine with me. I do admit, there is at least one Carnegie line I've read so far that gets my stamp of approval. Perhaps you've heard the quote already ... "Remember that a person's name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language." No argument here. It's been a great time and all, but I'm pretty much done here. When I started my job back in February, I had big plans to stay for the next three years. Over time, that number has been shrinking. Two years should suffice. Maybe one and a half. Next week I will celebrate exactly 8 months since I started. I think it's time to start working on the résumé again. The first time I ever shaved, I was in sixth grade. I had no idea what I was doing. I stole a razor out of my dad's shaving kit, ran it under some warm water, and started scraping away. I remember watching the presidential inauguration of Bill Clinton in Language Arts class the next day, amazed at the smoothness above my upper lip, tormented by the burning sensation. A year or so later, my parents bought me my first electric shaver, which is the same one I use to this day. It does the job, though I almost never use the close shave feature. Since I absolutely hate shaving, I let my face get as scruffy as possible, and then I use the small trimmer on the side of the shaver to cut it all off. I do this about twice a week. I pout my way into the bathroom, take the shaver out of the wall socket, and spend roughly 7 annoying minutes flipping the thing in all directions to get the hair off my neck and cheeks. So, I've been thinking lately that it's time for an upgrade. I should really be spending my money on more important things like ... well ... I shouldn't be spending money at all, to be honest. But, I think it's time to get excited about shaving for the first time in my life. I've done my research, and I've found the best electric shaver on the market for lazy people like myself who care about looking good but want as little work as possible to make that a reality. Of course, I'm really only remotely excited about this. I'm still going to have to actually shave. And, well, that sucks. I’m almost amazed at how much I avoid the phone these days. When I was in high school, the thing was attached to my ear every day and literally all night long. I'd make calls at 10, stay on until 4 a.m. with girls who were rarely more than close friends, only to go to bed for 90 minutes before waking up to do my paper route and shower for school in the morning. But what I've been trying to figure out recently is: what the hell was I talking about all that time! And the answer, I think, is absolutely nothing. We'd talk until there was nothing left to say, and even then I'd stay on the phone, watch TV, play video games, and just enjoy the long, completely unawkward silent pauses in conversation. It was never weird. It was friendship and mild flirtation at its best. When it got late, I would get into bed and fall asleep with the phone still at my ear. And the next day I'd do it all over again. The double beep of dying portable phone battery is engrained in my memory. Today, I barely answer the thing. And there are few people who I can talk to on that level even when I can muster the energy for a coversation longer than 10 minutes. Aside from the nostalgia, what bothers me most about this is the recurring realization that I am getting old. Excuse me for just a second while I lie down here and die. It seems weird to me that just three days ago I was speaking coherently, breathing normally, living a relatively healthy life. Not so fast there, tough guy! Here, have some sandpaper in your throat. When you're done with that, try some drippy clogging goodness back there, and see if you can't get some oxygen through your nose. Not so easy, right? Oh, and don't forget your complimentary headache, complete with whiplashing sneezes and violent hacking! Forget tissues. I need whole beach towels. Cough drops? How about you just stick the vacuum hose down my throat and see what you find. Sleep? Sounds good, just point me in the direction of the nearest oncoming train. Wow. This cold medicine is pretty strong stuff. You deserve a star!  |
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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