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7th inning stretch I took the day off today for the Phillies "Businesspersons Special," aka: weekday day game. When I was younger, my sister and I would skip school for these because they were the only day games in our season ticket plan. Often I'd do my homework on the ride down to the stadium and then we'd bake in the sun all day, eating hot dogs and peanuts. Today was basically the same. 95-degree heat. Sun right in our eyes. I was drinking a few beers an hour and I swear they were immediately seeping out of my skin. I was with 4 other people who are at the very top of the ladder where I work, and it made me realize that I am not at all where I want to be in this company. Admittedly, it's hard to work your way up in a company where the main people in charge are all close family, friends from elementary school, or college buddies. I guess, to them, I'm just the quiet, red-headed copywriter, but I'm fairly confident I could do a better job than some of them. Granted, they all do a great job. But, well, they could use a little help in a lot of areas, and I'm willing to give it, but like I said, I'm just the quiet, red-headed copywriter. No one's fault but my own, I suppose. Maybe later I'll speak up and take over the company. And the world. Anyway, here's a picture that was not taken today. This is Veterans Stadium, which doesn't exist anymore, but it's where I spent a lot of my time in the summers of '91-'94.   Friendster, my internet hero Two nights ago, a friend told me she could remember exactly what she was doing a year ago this weekend. This was somewhat impressive to me simply because I have no clear memory of anything I did on any particular weekend last summer. My best guess is that I was doing the exact same thing I'm doing now. Absolutely nothing. But, just now I did a little research, went back into my blog archives and was immediately reminded of something that had happened exactly a year ago yesterday. I went into my Friendster account, checked my messages and found this saved conversation:  And so began my obsession. (I did eventually read through her entire blog, by the way. And watched the videos on her site. And downloaded the songs in those videos. And over the next few months drove myself crazy wondering if this girl actually liked me or was toying with my sanity. A little bit of both, she would probably tell you.) Call me Miss Cleo For the record, I was being facetious the other day when I said I could smell my highly anticipated new checks coming in the mail. I actually have no idea what new checks smell like, if there even is a smell. Anyway, this is what came in the mail today ...  Me and them Citizens Bank copywriters sure do think alike. What I ate (and drank) at the company picnic today: 2 huge cheeseburgers (lettuce, tomato, onions, ketchup, mustard), 1 oversized hot dog, 2 helpings of baked beans, macaroni & cheese, 2 peanut butter brownies, 1 chocolate chip cookie, 1 orange soda, 3 Miller Lites, 1 bottled water. I pigged out, people. Absolutely sickening. What I didn't partake in: whiffle ball home run derby. Last year, I couldn't even hit the ball. In fact, I struck out. It was without a doubt one of the most embarrassing moments I've had since working with these people. And, sadly, it was an episode that traumatized me for days after. So, natch, I opted not to play at all this year. One word I will never use again: natch. What you don't need to know: Last night I dreamt I had HEP Disease, which was an imaginary condition also known as Hyper Elongated Penis Disease. This wasn't what it sounds like though. HEP is invisible to the naked eye. In the dream, a friend's mom told me she could sense I had the disease because my internal anatomy was all messed up. But I'm not sure how she knew that. TFGIFF. I guess it's not surprising that the number of visitors to Lyrical Munchies is the lowest since April 2005. I really haven't been doing that great of a job posting in 2006. But, I'm hoping to work on that over the next few weeks. And I know I mentioned this before, but I'll be working on another new (simpler) design for this puppy in the near future. --------------- So, is it just me, or was today the longest, most boring day at work EVER? I had to pass the time by filling out email surveys from friends (i.e. what are your 4 favorite foods), taking pop culture quizzes (thanks, Mel), and hooking up a "new" (circa 1985) tape calculator on my desk (basically just so that I can hit the buttons and hear the "EHHH EHHH EHHH EHHHH" of the tape roll printing whenever I feel that things are too quiet in the office. I have no other use for a calculator, believe me). Tonight, it's off to the driving range, a Vietnamese restaurant in Lancaster, and probably Barnes & Noble for some people watching. Happy Friday, bitches.  At the bar a year ago The after-photo I promised. It's opened things up a bit. I think I'll keep it this way for a while. Speaking of girls dancing on bar tables ... In the first few months after I moved out here, I spent a good bit of my nightlife checking out cover bands, getting to know my way around, searching for whores ... you know, all that good stuff. Really I was just forcing myself to be "social" so that I could actually meet some people outside of work. And I put social in quotations just now because in all the times I went out drinking solo on those weekends, I never actually approached one girl. And when I say I forced myself, I literally mean that I whined to myself all day long, sat around all depressed for hours, dreading when it would be time to leave (around 11 or so, usually). It was as if someone else had been telling me I had to go. I did always feel more comfortable once I was actually out, listening to the music, at least pretending to be a normal human being. And definitely by the time I came home on those nights I felt much better about myself, like I had just accomplished something great in life. Anyway, there was one bar I started to go to more than the others, mostly for two reasons: 1) I had been there before, so it was familiar to me; and 2) that's where the best cover bands played. This particular bar is basically Harrisburg's Coyote Ugly. Read: scantily clad girls in cowboy hats dancing on bar tops. That, I can honestly say, was not one of the reasons I kept going. In fact, these girls tended to sleaze up the place so much that I wished they weren't there. Although, I do remember liking that they seemed to attract a lot of girls to this bar, girls who were probably thinking that this was a good place to meet guys. There were always many more girls at this place than guys. But I digress. This story is actually about the fat, elderly DJ lady that I noticed there one night. At least, I think she was the DJ. She was above the stage in a small enclosed room and she was moving around a bit frantically and there seemed to be various audio equipment behind her. She didn't look happy. But her face was actually very difficult to see. The lights were dim, the air was smoky, and I was half drunk. But, in that strange daze--and you know the daze I'm talking about...that buzz you get when your standing around tons of sweaty people and the music is so damn heavy and loud you wonder if your ears are bleeding but somehow it feels pretty damn good at the same time--in that daze I started to come up with a story about that woman up in the DJ booth...that she was actually trapped up by the bar owners, forced to slave over these turntables in that small box above the stage. She was perhaps one of the best DJs in Central PA, but the bar owners wanted to keep her locked up there, fearful that the young audience would see her and immediately go running out the door disgusted that their music had been controlled by the old fat lady. The madwoman in the DJ booth. The owners would keep her up there all night long until after the bar had closed and all the kids had gone. It was that poor woman's job every night to make the people on the floor happy, keep them dancing, while she was in fact very alone. And this was all that she could do in life, but no one would ever really know. That's basically what I was thinking about at the time, anyway. Then the band came back on and I forgot all about it. Or I drove home drunk or something, I don't know. I just remembered all this today for some reason. And now that I think about it, it's probably better that I never actually spoke to anyone at these places. Leftover Pasta Rest assured, I'm not hiding any exciting details of my life when I'm not posting. More than likely, I'm just off somewhere staring at a wall or mowing the lawn with my invisible tractor. I could ride that thing all day! But seriously ... here's what's on my mind lately... The Empire. No, not Star Wars this time. Although, come to think of it, I am really looking forward to next Saturday when Sara comes down so we can beat Battlefront II for literally the 11th time. Not since Twisted Metal have I beaten a video game so many damn times and still enjoyed every second of it. I never actually feel like playing the game when she's not around, so it will just collect dust un next weekend. Anyway, back to the real empire at hand ... my multi-billion dollar media empire that I plan to build from the ground up--with chicken scratch, basically--starting in the next couple years or so. The basic goal is to start my own ad agency ... a real one this time, since my previous one lasted no longer than the 2 months it took my partner to design the logo and decide he didn't want to do anything with it anymore. The ULTIMATE goal is to grow this agency worldwide, and then buy up or start other media companies, film studios, publishing houses, etc. The chances of this all working out: 1 in about 77 billion. But, that's the goal. Long-term, anyway. The short-term is buying myself some new pants. The Great American Novel. Actually, this hasn't been on my mind at all, up until maybe today when I realized that I hadn't thought about writing fiction (with the plan of actually writing any) in quite a while. And that was kind of depressing for a moment, I guess. But I think I'm just going to put that dream off for a while. Besides, it'll be much easier to get published after I already own the humongous publishing house. Golf. I got my first set of new clubs, finally. There's a big tournament coming up in less than a month, so lately I've been hitting up the driving range and trying to figure what the hell I'm doing. It's learning process, ya know. Rearrangement. In a few minutes, I might move some stuff around upstairs, maybe try to open up some more space or something. Should be pretty cool, if it works out. Anyway, this is what my bedroom currently looks like. After-picture to come later, perhaps. New checks. Did you know I'm still using the same bank I used in Willow Grove, PA? It has made depositing checks very difficult, so last month I finally opened up a new checking account out here in E-town. Now I'm just waiting for my fresh new blank checks to come in the mail. Mmmm, I can smell them already! (By the way, I rarely write any checks. About once a month for rent, and that's it.) More boring details of my life later. More vacation fun! I had planned on taking all kinds of pictures and videos during my recent trip to Six Flags New England, but I came back with only 3. Well, 4, if you count the one of Sara making dinner back in Tivoli a few days later. Thursday was the first time I experienced the luxury of the Six Flags "FlashPass," which is basically a ticket to butt in front of every one else in line--for a price, of course. It costs an extra $25, but let me just say ... I don't know what I ever did without this thing. Back in the old days, you actually had to wait up to two hours in the hot sun to ride one roller coaster. And by the end of the day, you'd have only gone on about 6 rides. Well, screw that. With this FlashPass thing, you can breeze by all those assholes and jump on whenever you want. Okay, so there is some waiting involved at times, depending on how you use the pass. And, sure, the whole thing is just a ploy by Six Flags to steal even more money from the many fools who will shell it out. But, come on! No lines? That's awesome. She'll kill me. But she's not the one with the whiny voice. On Being Drunk in PA It’s an odd thing about alcohol. Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel that when I reached a certain age, it became less acceptable to … get fucking annihilated and wasted off your ass. As it were. And, strangely enough, that age was about 22. Gone, for the most part, were the days of drinking to complete drunkenness and absurdity. Here to stay was the more sophisticated route to inebriation: nursing a beer, sipping a glass of wine, not being the first one to finish your drink and ask for another. That’s not to say that the more ridiculous drunkenness can’t happen, or doesn’t. Hell, give me a bottle of merlot through a beer bong and we’ll call it a craaaazy evening. But now, come on, if that comment were completely serious (thank goodness it’s only half so), I’d probably seem like a total idiot. So, here’s the interesting thing. I’ve noticed that the social acceptability for heavy drinking is a bit different out in Central PA … at least with many of the people I work with. Call me crazy, but these people are all alcoholics! Drinking isn’t about being social, it’s about getting wasted as often and as quickly as possible, whether it’s during happy hour, over dinner, or at any type of place that serves ethanol, aside from the gas pump. It’s not okay to pass on the next round of shots or skip out on the drinking contest. If you do, it doesn’t mean you’re skilled in moderation; it means you can’t handle your shit. You’re almost excluded from the group if you don’t have the desire to drink as fast and furiously as the others. I’m not saying that all of Central PA is a bunch of boozers … but the standards for drinking among some of these people are completely different from anything I’ve seen since high school. It’s not like I really care. In fact, it’s highly entertaining to see 40 and 50-year-olds drinking each other under the table. But I’m definitely curious … am I just generalizing or are the drinking norms a bit different here … and if so, why? Cheers. |
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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