So, it’s officially spring and I couldn’t be happier. Spring signifies change, growth, development of personal and professional goals, and exposing my extremely pasty legs to the public for the first time in 6 months. This year, spring means much more to me because I just spent 6 months in crappy Indiana winter and at the first sight of the sun yesterday, I actually broke down a cried a little. Not so much because it was warm, but because I saw my legs in the mirror for the first time in half a year and can only imagine how frightening they look in public.
Speaking of change, I’ve started using hair conditioner. I’m told that by doing so, my hair will exhibit a shine and fullness that can only be rivaled by those hair club for men dudes. The only problem is I’m not used to the additional step of rinsing it out when I get ready in the morning. Last week, as I was getting ready for work and putting a bit of product in my hair, I realized something was different. My hair was greasy and slick so I immediately blamed the conditioner. Well, it was the conditioner in part, but mostly due to the fact that I hadn’t rinsed it out! Here I was, dressed and ready for work sans hair gel, and I’ve got a head full of greasy conditioner. So, I did my best to look like I hadn’t just squeezed a tub of Crisco on my head and went off to work. No good. By noon I felt like that Soul Glow dude from Coming to America. Ok, so maybe I’m taking this spring thing a bit too far.
Another area of change has been my eating habits. Recently, I purchased 6 cases of wine with the thinking that I will conquer my miseducation of all things vino. I even went to Pier 1 and bought one of those huge-ass hurricane vase things that wine people put their corks into for decoration (or to brag about how cool they are because they drink wine and you drink Gatorade). So, I break out my first bottle and it comes with a screw lid, not a cork. No worries, I still have 5 other cases and I’m certain after drinking all that wine, my hurricane vase will be filled with corks. Um, not exactly. Every single bottle in every single case has a screw lid and not a cork! WTF?! So, now my house looks less like something out of a Pottery Barn catalog and more like a frat house.
I’ve also started to eat more organic and fresh-grown foods which requires me to forego my traditional Wal-Mart shopping extravaganza and turn my attention to the likes of Whole Foods, Fresh Market, and Trader Joe’s. Let’s just say the differences smack you square in the hemp Birkenstocks from the moment you walk in the front door. The music, the employees, the incredible overbearing smell of……naturalness. But I’m also taken by how a lot of the foods I eat now have an organic counterpart. An organic counterpart that costs twice as much, but a counterpart nonetheless. Did you know that organic peanut butter looks like unshaken Italian salad dressing? These fresh grocery stores are like portals to 18th century Venice, with cobblestone sidewalks, chefs flipping pizza dough into the air, and guys named Giuseppe and Emrico asking if I’d like bottled or sparkling water with my order. I think I even saw a dude with a black and white stripped shirt steering a gondola in the seafood section.
Speaking of food, I was watching TV the other day and saw a commercial for the Olive Garden. What caught my attention wasn’t the all you can eat pasta for $13.99, but the announcer mentioning that all Olive Garden chefs are classically trained at some Itialian culinary institute deep in the hills of Italy. Are you kidding me?! You mean to tell me that in these rough economic times, the Olive Garden is sending that pimple-faced 17 year-old that warmed up some pasta in the microwave and topped with Ragu to Italy for “culinary training”? You may not believe this, Olive Garden, but I DON’T BUY IT! Next your going to tell me that the kid working the French fry machine at Burger King learned his craft after a rigorous 9-month training course in Paris.
I was talking to my friend Loren yesterday and after the standard greetings of what’s new and how’s work were out of the way she said, “Oh, guess what I did?” I figured spring concert tickets, maybe booked a vacation, or even a work promotion. All wrong. She proceeds to tell me that a week ago she hit a pedestrian with her car. What?! This is the kind of thing that you mention during the “what’s new” portion of the phone call…..not 15 minutes later! She then begins to recount the story of how this guy “jumped” in front of her hood and she “nudged” him with her bumper. In other words, she was tearing through the neighborhood while texting and drinking 3 cups of coffee all at once, and slammed into this pour guy trying to get from A to B on his bicycle. The worst part, she can barely get the story out because she’s laughing hysterically.
At what point do I just leave my phone on full ringer instead of vibrate? I was in a meeting last week and my phone went off and my vibrate sounds like a dump truck driving through the Civil War.
My favorite sign of spring is seeing that occasional Friday night bar hookup turn into the undeniable symbol of true and everlasting love – weddings. I have been invited to a few already and feel quite honored to be included in guest list. There was one invite recently that caught my attention. The envelope had all the marks of a typical wedding invitation; pink, fancy writing, the stamp wasn’t upside down, and that one sheet of clearish carbon paper that you always find inside. Noticing the return address, I’m feeling bad because this isn’t someone I feel like using up a Saturday afternoon on as he professes his undying love for whichever chick he convinced to marry him. I know, I’m so romantic. As I begin to read, I realize this isn’t a true invitation, but an announcement. An announcement of marriage and essentially a solicitation for $100 to “begin their lives together” with. Let me get this straight, you want a gift for a wedding that I’m not even invited to? Is this your way of telling me I’m important enough to give you a present, but not high ranking enough to enjoy some wedding cake and the open bar? So I do what anyone else would do: get pissed because I didn’t get an invite to a wedding I didn’t want to go to in the first place, unscrew a wine bottle and pour myself a glass, and send them a congratulations card with a piece of clearish carbon paper in it. I guess this is growing up!
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Grab an Unbrella
As I write this, I’m looking over some pictures from the recent year and I can’t help but reminisce about all the new places and experiences I’ve encountered since moving to Nap Town. Between traveling to parts of the country I previously had never been, or interacting with the very unique (and slightly off) Indiana natives, it’s been a great first year. I mean, I even learned that Indianapolis is also referred to as Nap Town…a good attempt at street cred but not exactly threatening to the likes of Compton, South Central, or B-More.
One of the pastimes that I seem to be enjoying lately is coverbands. Now I’m not talking tribute bands or a revival band with 3 of the original 4 members…I’ve done that before and they are half-way cool. I’m talking full-on, fake hair, makeup and spandex. A little weird, but overall, I don’t have a problem with it. My issue comes with the coverband opening act…another coverband! With the same fake hair, makeup and spandex. My question is, at what point do these dudes climb the coverband corporate ladder and become a full-fledged headliner?
Something else that I have reflected upon over the past year is my work environment. While I love the people I work with, I’ve fallen into a bit of an everyday pattern regarding where I sit at lunch, who I socialize with, and where I park every morning. I’ve never found this to be a problem until I was asked to attend a meeting in a different building (mind you, still attached to mine). I immediately started asking around about how to get there, what to bring, and any advice that would help me on my journey. Again, same building. But the interesting part was when I got there, I didn’t recognize a single person, they dressed funny, and had weird accents. It was like I took a left at the end of the hall and ended up in Prague!
A week ago, Indy got a lot of snow and I found myself stuck in my house, with a driveway full of snow, a real-wheel drive car, and no snow shovel. I called around and it was decided that we would work from home. I’m thinking great…I can run errands, hit the gym, maybe the food court at the mall for some Sbarro’s. But instead, I ended up shoveling my driveway for 4 hours with a shovel I had to borrow from my neighbor. And of course, as I’m shoveling, I have everyone passing by telling me, “Welcome to Indiana” and, “Bet it doesn’t snow like this in Southern California”….like it’s the first time I’ve seen a snowflake. So yesterday when I drove past their house, I threw some trash on their front yard and flipped off their 8 year-old. “Bet they don’t do that in Indiana!”
Speaking of snow, did you know teachers have a special “snow hotline” that they call in the morning to find out if their school is open or closed? Yea, the whole thing’s anonymous, almost like the America’s Most Wanted tip-line. It’s all very underground and suspicious if you ask me.
My buddy Trader was watching a college basketball game recently where powerhouse Middle Tennessee State was taking on the Fighting Whatever’s from Winthrop. First, why the hell is he watching this game? Nevermind. Anyway, the crackpot sideline reporter (not Erin Andrews) was reporting on an interview she did with a player from Nigeria. She asked the player what it’s like to have an African-American president and he said not a big deal because growing up in Nigeria, all he’s ever known are African-American presidents. But wait, how has he had an African-American president in Nigeria? Wouldn’t that just be an African president?
Another question: is it irregardless or regardless?
On a serious note, one of my closest friends from Indy is moving to Missouri for basic training, and then she will complete a tour in Afghanistan. When she first told me about this, I asked why anyone would vacation in Afghanistan. I mean, isn’t it a bad time? I always heard summer was the time of year to gather the loved ones and make that annual trip to the Middle East. Anyway, Aly is a very talented law student and accomplished athlete and Uncle Sam has determined that she would be a welcome addition to the men and women serving overseas.
I met Aly my second day in Nap Town and after she beat me in a game of H.O.R.S.E., I knew we would become great friends. Over the past year we have played a lot of basketball together, watched Rudy countless times, and even took part in a late-night trip to a less the upstanding “club” with a few NBA players (picture late-night rap video come to life). She’s watched my dogs when I’ve gone out of town, introduced me to fine dining, Indy style (hot dog street vendor at 3 am), and always remained a close friend, even when we didn’t talk for a month or two.
In short, Aly will be a great friend for the rest of my life. No matter the distance, or even the country, I know I can count on a random text from her letting me know just how bad the Lakers lost the night before. She’s the kind of person we all want to be like. But unfortunately, I know that for most of us, that’s not possible. No matter how hard we try, most of us will never get to that level. That’s why people like Aly are so special and that’s why saying goodbye is so hard.
Aly, please be safe. Thank you for making me feel welcome and for always being a friend. I will never forget the fun times we’ve shared and I’ll look forward to making it rain with you again very soon. Enjoy Afghanistan, but stay away from the Halwaua-e-Aurd-e-Sujee (http://asiarecipe.com/afgdesserts.html#sujee) ……I heard it’s out of season. Saying good-bye sucks, I guess this is growing up.
One of the pastimes that I seem to be enjoying lately is coverbands. Now I’m not talking tribute bands or a revival band with 3 of the original 4 members…I’ve done that before and they are half-way cool. I’m talking full-on, fake hair, makeup and spandex. A little weird, but overall, I don’t have a problem with it. My issue comes with the coverband opening act…another coverband! With the same fake hair, makeup and spandex. My question is, at what point do these dudes climb the coverband corporate ladder and become a full-fledged headliner?
Something else that I have reflected upon over the past year is my work environment. While I love the people I work with, I’ve fallen into a bit of an everyday pattern regarding where I sit at lunch, who I socialize with, and where I park every morning. I’ve never found this to be a problem until I was asked to attend a meeting in a different building (mind you, still attached to mine). I immediately started asking around about how to get there, what to bring, and any advice that would help me on my journey. Again, same building. But the interesting part was when I got there, I didn’t recognize a single person, they dressed funny, and had weird accents. It was like I took a left at the end of the hall and ended up in Prague!
A week ago, Indy got a lot of snow and I found myself stuck in my house, with a driveway full of snow, a real-wheel drive car, and no snow shovel. I called around and it was decided that we would work from home. I’m thinking great…I can run errands, hit the gym, maybe the food court at the mall for some Sbarro’s. But instead, I ended up shoveling my driveway for 4 hours with a shovel I had to borrow from my neighbor. And of course, as I’m shoveling, I have everyone passing by telling me, “Welcome to Indiana” and, “Bet it doesn’t snow like this in Southern California”….like it’s the first time I’ve seen a snowflake. So yesterday when I drove past their house, I threw some trash on their front yard and flipped off their 8 year-old. “Bet they don’t do that in Indiana!”
Speaking of snow, did you know teachers have a special “snow hotline” that they call in the morning to find out if their school is open or closed? Yea, the whole thing’s anonymous, almost like the America’s Most Wanted tip-line. It’s all very underground and suspicious if you ask me.
My buddy Trader was watching a college basketball game recently where powerhouse Middle Tennessee State was taking on the Fighting Whatever’s from Winthrop. First, why the hell is he watching this game? Nevermind. Anyway, the crackpot sideline reporter (not Erin Andrews) was reporting on an interview she did with a player from Nigeria. She asked the player what it’s like to have an African-American president and he said not a big deal because growing up in Nigeria, all he’s ever known are African-American presidents. But wait, how has he had an African-American president in Nigeria? Wouldn’t that just be an African president?
Another question: is it irregardless or regardless?
On a serious note, one of my closest friends from Indy is moving to Missouri for basic training, and then she will complete a tour in Afghanistan. When she first told me about this, I asked why anyone would vacation in Afghanistan. I mean, isn’t it a bad time? I always heard summer was the time of year to gather the loved ones and make that annual trip to the Middle East. Anyway, Aly is a very talented law student and accomplished athlete and Uncle Sam has determined that she would be a welcome addition to the men and women serving overseas.
I met Aly my second day in Nap Town and after she beat me in a game of H.O.R.S.E., I knew we would become great friends. Over the past year we have played a lot of basketball together, watched Rudy countless times, and even took part in a late-night trip to a less the upstanding “club” with a few NBA players (picture late-night rap video come to life). She’s watched my dogs when I’ve gone out of town, introduced me to fine dining, Indy style (hot dog street vendor at 3 am), and always remained a close friend, even when we didn’t talk for a month or two.
In short, Aly will be a great friend for the rest of my life. No matter the distance, or even the country, I know I can count on a random text from her letting me know just how bad the Lakers lost the night before. She’s the kind of person we all want to be like. But unfortunately, I know that for most of us, that’s not possible. No matter how hard we try, most of us will never get to that level. That’s why people like Aly are so special and that’s why saying goodbye is so hard.
Aly, please be safe. Thank you for making me feel welcome and for always being a friend. I will never forget the fun times we’ve shared and I’ll look forward to making it rain with you again very soon. Enjoy Afghanistan, but stay away from the Halwaua-e-Aurd-e-Sujee (http://asiarecipe.com/afgdesserts.html#sujee) ……I heard it’s out of season. Saying good-bye sucks, I guess this is growing up.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Thug LIfe
Well here we are, the first week of 2009, and everyone is abuzz with resolutions and ways to improve themselves. That’s fine and dandy but my New Years resolution is a little different. Looking back on ’08, I did a lot of traveling (both work and personal), worked extremely hard in my professional life, and made more contacts and friends then I’ve ever had in my life. I feel very fortunate to be where I am in my life. With that, 2009 will be my cruise-control year. I’m just going to coast. Forget multi-tasking…I’m going to perfect my uni-tasking skills. What can I say, I’ve always been an overachiever!
I was doing the dishes the other day and as a bachelor, this is always an exciting event. Let me first say that as a kid, my family never used the dishwasher. Not because it saved water, or to slow down the effects of global warming, or even to protest the escalating situation in the Middle East. I don’t even know how to use one. So these days, I still do my dishes by hand. But because I live alone and dinner usually consists of a fork, some mustard, and a tuna can, I’ll go weeks without touching them. (This might also explain my Facebook status of “single”). But the best part of doing dishes these days is looking back at all the pots and pans I used a month ago and remembering that awesome bowl of Frosted Flakes I ate during last year’s Super Bowl.
Another great reminder of the good ‘ole days is sifting through your old shows on DVR. I had 2 weeks off over the holidays and caught up on shows from, like, a year ago. But it’s not so much the shows that I’m interested in, it’s the commercials. I saw a commercial for the “New and improved, always witty, the ever-present entertainer….Rosie O’Donnell.” Her new variety show was hitting the airwaves and was going to change TV forever. Or, for 2 episodes. Your DVR is like the best reverse fortune teller of all-time! We’ve all made a questionable wardrobe selection for a first date…with a DVR, you could go back in time and replace that 70’s era turtleneck for a t-shirt, sport coat, and jeans! (Read blog 7 and you’ll get it)
I recently got in touch with a good friend from college and she had some life-changes to share with me. Once married, she now finds herself living back with her parents…in the BASEMENT! That’s right, the cellar. Initially I was shocked and offered support, but the more I think about it, she’s living the life. Stay up late, have sleepovers, eat ice cream for dinner. I’m talking summer camp! But after talking to her, it sounds more like prison. She’s 27 and it’s lights out at 8. She has an hour for lunch and can’t have anything sharp. Abby, stay strong, and watch your back in the showers. It’s not likely a life-sentence.
Finally, as I write this, I’m in a hotel in L.A. and it’s great to be home. I caught a Lakers game on Sunday with P-Loya, did lunch at Jerry’s Famous Deli, and soaked in some SoCal sun. My only problem with L.A. is the celebrities. More specifically, the whole, I drive an Escalade and wear my sunglasses 24 hrs. a day, thing. The problem is, EVERYONE in L.A. drives an Escalade and wears sunglasses 24 hrs. a day. So I look like an idiot, asking every bus-boy, grocery store worker, and janitor for an autograph just because he’s rolling a blacked out SUV and fake Gucci’s. Hey, at least I don’t live in the basement! (Love you, A) But I do have a sink full of month-old Frosted Flake bowls to clean. I guess this is growing up.
I was doing the dishes the other day and as a bachelor, this is always an exciting event. Let me first say that as a kid, my family never used the dishwasher. Not because it saved water, or to slow down the effects of global warming, or even to protest the escalating situation in the Middle East. I don’t even know how to use one. So these days, I still do my dishes by hand. But because I live alone and dinner usually consists of a fork, some mustard, and a tuna can, I’ll go weeks without touching them. (This might also explain my Facebook status of “single”). But the best part of doing dishes these days is looking back at all the pots and pans I used a month ago and remembering that awesome bowl of Frosted Flakes I ate during last year’s Super Bowl.
Another great reminder of the good ‘ole days is sifting through your old shows on DVR. I had 2 weeks off over the holidays and caught up on shows from, like, a year ago. But it’s not so much the shows that I’m interested in, it’s the commercials. I saw a commercial for the “New and improved, always witty, the ever-present entertainer….Rosie O’Donnell.” Her new variety show was hitting the airwaves and was going to change TV forever. Or, for 2 episodes. Your DVR is like the best reverse fortune teller of all-time! We’ve all made a questionable wardrobe selection for a first date…with a DVR, you could go back in time and replace that 70’s era turtleneck for a t-shirt, sport coat, and jeans! (Read blog 7 and you’ll get it)
I recently got in touch with a good friend from college and she had some life-changes to share with me. Once married, she now finds herself living back with her parents…in the BASEMENT! That’s right, the cellar. Initially I was shocked and offered support, but the more I think about it, she’s living the life. Stay up late, have sleepovers, eat ice cream for dinner. I’m talking summer camp! But after talking to her, it sounds more like prison. She’s 27 and it’s lights out at 8. She has an hour for lunch and can’t have anything sharp. Abby, stay strong, and watch your back in the showers. It’s not likely a life-sentence.
Finally, as I write this, I’m in a hotel in L.A. and it’s great to be home. I caught a Lakers game on Sunday with P-Loya, did lunch at Jerry’s Famous Deli, and soaked in some SoCal sun. My only problem with L.A. is the celebrities. More specifically, the whole, I drive an Escalade and wear my sunglasses 24 hrs. a day, thing. The problem is, EVERYONE in L.A. drives an Escalade and wears sunglasses 24 hrs. a day. So I look like an idiot, asking every bus-boy, grocery store worker, and janitor for an autograph just because he’s rolling a blacked out SUV and fake Gucci’s. Hey, at least I don’t live in the basement! (Love you, A) But I do have a sink full of month-old Frosted Flake bowls to clean. I guess this is growing up.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
FaceSpace
So I sit here, on my couch, with one major question weighing on my mind. You ask, is it the economy? The housing crisis? Will crude oil eventually rise again, leaving all SUV drivers crapping their pants at the pump? (Which, by the way, would make a great channel 4 news segment) No. No. No. The question I’m faced with is that age-old night before New Year’s Eve predicament that many like me have faced in times’ past: do I go out tonight and risk wasting my resources the night before the big bash??? What I mean is, tonight is like the JV game before the Varsity hits the floor. Or you know how at NASCAR races there are like, 8 races before the main race on Sunday….kinda like that. You see, I could easily go out tonight, knowing that I can sleep in tomorrow but should I go that route, I don’t know that I’ll have the energy to do it all over again manana. Life is full of uphill battles, challenges, and forks in the road. Whatever my decision, I have my great upbringing to thank.
The nice thing about this time of year is my work schedule. More specifically, my non-work schedule. My company shuts down over the holidays leaving me with a lot of good intentions for home improvement, volunteering, and self-betterment. But really, all it ever means is me not shaving for 2 weeks and a lot of movie watching and catching up on The Office reruns. In all honesty, I look homeless. In fact, no disrespect to homeless people, but I look worse then homeless. My beard isn’t so much a typical beard that lands on most dude’s cheeks, but rather the ever desired and mostly Euro neck-beard. It’s itchy and starting to connect with the hair on my neck. That’s normal, right?
The other news in my life kind of big. I finally joined the masses and started a Facebook profile. I have rejected the idea ever since a friend back in California told me about MySpace and how it changed her life forever. My response: lame. Find a hobby, a boyfriend, or try watching more TV, but MySpace? Seriously? Well, here I am, checking it everyday like a crack addict. I CANNOT get enough!! What’s worse is I’ve had that last week and a half off work and all I do is sit and stare at the computer. I must look like the lamest dude ever because anytime someone writes on my wall (Facebook lingo), I respond within 30 seconds. I’m that kid in school that never got dates and just waited by the phone…..for it to NEVER ring!! I mean, what a nerd!
But this Facebook thing is a lot more serious then one would think. There’s a whole strategy involved. How many friends do you have? How many people have you asked to be friends with…..and have said no?!?! I feel like the popular kid at the lunch table when someone asks to join my friend list. It’s an immediate ego boost! But then, when you reach out to someone and write on their wall and they never respond, you’re once inflated ego quickly deflates and you remember you’re just a loser on a couch growing a beard!
What’s with these overachievers that rent out bars for New Years? We all know these people. They’re the ones that partner with your local bar/pub/club/crap-hole that serves booze, to offer fancy purple wristbands for $100 a pop to any sucker willing to fork over the benjamins. Problem is, we all do it! Here’s my hundy, now point me in the direction of the huge dude-fest where they are serving substandard drinks at a premium price and every guy has on a sport coat and t-shirt with jeans. Yea, and when did that become the standard uniform of choice for guys going out? Don’t’ get me wrong, I’ve got buddies that pull it off with ease but this really is an epidemic. I’m vetoing the sport coat t-shirt thing and going straight gangster. That’s right, I’m rocking a beard, bed-head, I may or may not brush my teeth, and if I get thrown out before midnight than that leaves me plenty of time to come home, work on my neck-beard, and check my Facebook page! I guess this is growing up.
The nice thing about this time of year is my work schedule. More specifically, my non-work schedule. My company shuts down over the holidays leaving me with a lot of good intentions for home improvement, volunteering, and self-betterment. But really, all it ever means is me not shaving for 2 weeks and a lot of movie watching and catching up on The Office reruns. In all honesty, I look homeless. In fact, no disrespect to homeless people, but I look worse then homeless. My beard isn’t so much a typical beard that lands on most dude’s cheeks, but rather the ever desired and mostly Euro neck-beard. It’s itchy and starting to connect with the hair on my neck. That’s normal, right?
The other news in my life kind of big. I finally joined the masses and started a Facebook profile. I have rejected the idea ever since a friend back in California told me about MySpace and how it changed her life forever. My response: lame. Find a hobby, a boyfriend, or try watching more TV, but MySpace? Seriously? Well, here I am, checking it everyday like a crack addict. I CANNOT get enough!! What’s worse is I’ve had that last week and a half off work and all I do is sit and stare at the computer. I must look like the lamest dude ever because anytime someone writes on my wall (Facebook lingo), I respond within 30 seconds. I’m that kid in school that never got dates and just waited by the phone…..for it to NEVER ring!! I mean, what a nerd!
But this Facebook thing is a lot more serious then one would think. There’s a whole strategy involved. How many friends do you have? How many people have you asked to be friends with…..and have said no?!?! I feel like the popular kid at the lunch table when someone asks to join my friend list. It’s an immediate ego boost! But then, when you reach out to someone and write on their wall and they never respond, you’re once inflated ego quickly deflates and you remember you’re just a loser on a couch growing a beard!
What’s with these overachievers that rent out bars for New Years? We all know these people. They’re the ones that partner with your local bar/pub/club/crap-hole that serves booze, to offer fancy purple wristbands for $100 a pop to any sucker willing to fork over the benjamins. Problem is, we all do it! Here’s my hundy, now point me in the direction of the huge dude-fest where they are serving substandard drinks at a premium price and every guy has on a sport coat and t-shirt with jeans. Yea, and when did that become the standard uniform of choice for guys going out? Don’t’ get me wrong, I’ve got buddies that pull it off with ease but this really is an epidemic. I’m vetoing the sport coat t-shirt thing and going straight gangster. That’s right, I’m rocking a beard, bed-head, I may or may not brush my teeth, and if I get thrown out before midnight than that leaves me plenty of time to come home, work on my neck-beard, and check my Facebook page! I guess this is growing up.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Travel Bug
So, haven’t been around in a while. This whole work thing is really starting to take it’s toll on me. I’m not about to list all the places I’ve been over the past couple months, but after a long flight, I’ve never been so happy to land in…….INDIANA!!
The benefit lately of all this travel is that my focus is taken off the fact that my favorite bathroom at work is closed. Apparently, someone had an “accident” and they called in a haz-mat team to clean up the mess. But now, the dudes in the space suites cleaning up the mess shut the bathroom down for 3 months. 3 months!! The problem is this bathroom was like, 25 steps from desk. I relied on this as my mid-morning and late-afternoon sanctuary. If you remember, Wednesday is b-b-q day and now I have to walk, like a mile away just to do my thing. I’ve already gotten lost 3 times!
I went to a Notre Dame football game this weekend in South Bend and it was an eye-opening experience. Nevermind that I just had a birthday and being around all those hung over college kids only made me feel older, I actually got sleepy towards the end of the game. I’m sitting there, arm to arm with my Dad and the half drunk-half hung over kid next to me, and I started to doze off…..at a Notre Dame football game! I watched “Rudy” 8 times in preparation for this moment and I’m sleeping in the stands.
I visited Connecticut a couple weeks ago and really enjoyed it. Before my trip, I received my new Blackberry in the mail and spent half the trip messing with the settings. By Sunday afternoon, I realized just how awesome this little device is. And when I say awesome, what I mean is down right addicting. Let me be clearer, I’m completely hamstrung by this thing, like Linus and his blanket! I now realize what it’s like to have a crack addiction. This thing is my crack. The upside is that it has a navigation function so now, I don’t get lost when walking to the bathroom at work! I guess this is growing up.
The benefit lately of all this travel is that my focus is taken off the fact that my favorite bathroom at work is closed. Apparently, someone had an “accident” and they called in a haz-mat team to clean up the mess. But now, the dudes in the space suites cleaning up the mess shut the bathroom down for 3 months. 3 months!! The problem is this bathroom was like, 25 steps from desk. I relied on this as my mid-morning and late-afternoon sanctuary. If you remember, Wednesday is b-b-q day and now I have to walk, like a mile away just to do my thing. I’ve already gotten lost 3 times!
I went to a Notre Dame football game this weekend in South Bend and it was an eye-opening experience. Nevermind that I just had a birthday and being around all those hung over college kids only made me feel older, I actually got sleepy towards the end of the game. I’m sitting there, arm to arm with my Dad and the half drunk-half hung over kid next to me, and I started to doze off…..at a Notre Dame football game! I watched “Rudy” 8 times in preparation for this moment and I’m sleeping in the stands.
I visited Connecticut a couple weeks ago and really enjoyed it. Before my trip, I received my new Blackberry in the mail and spent half the trip messing with the settings. By Sunday afternoon, I realized just how awesome this little device is. And when I say awesome, what I mean is down right addicting. Let me be clearer, I’m completely hamstrung by this thing, like Linus and his blanket! I now realize what it’s like to have a crack addiction. This thing is my crack. The upside is that it has a navigation function so now, I don’t get lost when walking to the bathroom at work! I guess this is growing up.
Monday, June 16, 2008
How do you like dem apples?
Back in the saddle, another day at the office, another day another dollar…..each of these phrases is worse then the previous, but they all accurately describe life in the cubes. Let me explain:
One of the most fascinating things for me is going from desk to desk, looking at what people have hung up in their work areas. Being in Indy, there are a ton of Colts fans so naturally, Peyton Manning crap is everywhere. This guy can do no wrong at all here in Indy. I mean, let’s just say you play for the Pacers you just happen to be out one night and, well, there’s random gunfire. Again, hypothetically, let’s say this gunfire is directed at you and your crew…is that really that bad? I didn’t think so.
The other great thing about life on the “inside” is the parking situation. And when I say “situation”, I mean complete and sheer disaster. If I’m not here by 7:26 am everyday I’m relegated to the overflow lot which is located roughly just outside Cincinnati.
But work isn’t everything…traveling lately has been fun too. I dig the airport scene, at least I did until I was randomly chosen to participate in the “you look like a threat” frisking at the hands of a security specialist. Now keep in mind, when I travel I usually am tired from staying up the previous night packing/watching re-runs of Chappelle’s Show, and therefore kind of grumpy. So this guy flags me down and asks me to join him to the side where the fondling/professional pat down would go down. I politely decline. I’m told it wasn’t an option and before I know it, my pants are around my ankles and I’m coughing 3 times. Ok, so it wasn’t that bad and I got digits afterward so I actually came out ahead. Next time I’m in Boston, I’ve got a date with Neil, the surprisingly gentle dude from terminal B.
And on that note, Boston’s pretty cool. I had been once before with Sammy for my birthday where we did the whole Fenway father/son thing so going in, I knew that trip would be a tough act to follow. But, weather held up, had some great food with an amazing friend, and I even ran into Chris Mihm and his girlfriend on the street.
Highlight of the trip: we’re sitting at dinner and things are winding down. It’s obvious to us and probably everyone else in the place that we had had our fill of Goose and calamari. We look at each other as if to telepathically say, “Where’s the bill?” I get a little impatient and finally ask the waiter for the bill and he says that it was taken care of over the phone by my friend that afternoon. What!? Why didn’t I think of that?? I immediately look over and say, “Don’t get any ideas, my heart belongs to Neil, the pat-down specialist from terminal B.”
The other great thing about Boston, much like Phil-lay, is the historical significance surrounding the city. I mean, all weekend long I was walking around reciting Good Will Hunting lines like I was from Southie!
Random question: who are these guys that actually sit on those elevated chairs and get their shoes shined?
Also, is anyone walking through the airport and all of a sudden decides they want to learn French and only wished there was a Rosetta Stone kiosk in the terminal? Oh wait, there’s one at every other gate.
I had one of the most comforting and home-like experiences happen to me last night while driving home from Dairy Queen. I’m leaving the drive thru, small banana split blizzard in tote, and I pause at the stop light a little too long to enjoy the extra strawberries I asked for. Apparently, the dude behind me forgot his manners and sped past me, leaving a trail of blazing middle fingers, honks, and F-bombs in his wake. Oh, how I’ve missed Southern California. I guess this is growing up!
One of the most fascinating things for me is going from desk to desk, looking at what people have hung up in their work areas. Being in Indy, there are a ton of Colts fans so naturally, Peyton Manning crap is everywhere. This guy can do no wrong at all here in Indy. I mean, let’s just say you play for the Pacers you just happen to be out one night and, well, there’s random gunfire. Again, hypothetically, let’s say this gunfire is directed at you and your crew…is that really that bad? I didn’t think so.
The other great thing about life on the “inside” is the parking situation. And when I say “situation”, I mean complete and sheer disaster. If I’m not here by 7:26 am everyday I’m relegated to the overflow lot which is located roughly just outside Cincinnati.
But work isn’t everything…traveling lately has been fun too. I dig the airport scene, at least I did until I was randomly chosen to participate in the “you look like a threat” frisking at the hands of a security specialist. Now keep in mind, when I travel I usually am tired from staying up the previous night packing/watching re-runs of Chappelle’s Show, and therefore kind of grumpy. So this guy flags me down and asks me to join him to the side where the fondling/professional pat down would go down. I politely decline. I’m told it wasn’t an option and before I know it, my pants are around my ankles and I’m coughing 3 times. Ok, so it wasn’t that bad and I got digits afterward so I actually came out ahead. Next time I’m in Boston, I’ve got a date with Neil, the surprisingly gentle dude from terminal B.
And on that note, Boston’s pretty cool. I had been once before with Sammy for my birthday where we did the whole Fenway father/son thing so going in, I knew that trip would be a tough act to follow. But, weather held up, had some great food with an amazing friend, and I even ran into Chris Mihm and his girlfriend on the street.
Highlight of the trip: we’re sitting at dinner and things are winding down. It’s obvious to us and probably everyone else in the place that we had had our fill of Goose and calamari. We look at each other as if to telepathically say, “Where’s the bill?” I get a little impatient and finally ask the waiter for the bill and he says that it was taken care of over the phone by my friend that afternoon. What!? Why didn’t I think of that?? I immediately look over and say, “Don’t get any ideas, my heart belongs to Neil, the pat-down specialist from terminal B.”
The other great thing about Boston, much like Phil-lay, is the historical significance surrounding the city. I mean, all weekend long I was walking around reciting Good Will Hunting lines like I was from Southie!
Random question: who are these guys that actually sit on those elevated chairs and get their shoes shined?
Also, is anyone walking through the airport and all of a sudden decides they want to learn French and only wished there was a Rosetta Stone kiosk in the terminal? Oh wait, there’s one at every other gate.
I had one of the most comforting and home-like experiences happen to me last night while driving home from Dairy Queen. I’m leaving the drive thru, small banana split blizzard in tote, and I pause at the stop light a little too long to enjoy the extra strawberries I asked for. Apparently, the dude behind me forgot his manners and sped past me, leaving a trail of blazing middle fingers, honks, and F-bombs in his wake. Oh, how I’ve missed Southern California. I guess this is growing up!
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