Yesterday was a work Holiday. I was paid without having to take vacation time.
My day:
Coffee & Baileys
*censored*
Lunch at Salut
-Summit Winter
-Blue Cheese Burger
REI
Watch Office Space
Starbucks
Get Wine
-Cabernet Savignon
-Pinot Nior
Watch High Society: Ski Movie 2
Jimmy Johns
Red Dragon
-Red Dragon Special
-Almond Delight
-Wonderous Punch
-3/4 Almond Delight
Trocaderos
-Tanqueray Martini
Amy's Apartment
-Cabernet
-Mac & Cheese
-Crackers & Cheese
-Water
-Water
-Water
-Water
-More Water
Wake up in Amy's roommate's bed, fully clothed, including my winter coat.
-No Hangover
The Egg & I
-Coffee
-Ice Water
-Blueberry Multigrain Pancakes
-Sunnyside Eggs with Tabasco
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Endulgence & Consequence
I had a very interesting Tuesday. I started the day back home at the ND farm with a 4 mile non-stop run on the gravel road, and in doing so probably climbed a good 500 feet out of the river bottoms. I felt awesome. A little sore in the calves, but awesome.
I drove to Fargo and had a burger at Granite City(a Champps derivative) which immediately made me sick.
Then, I meet up with Trav at High Balls, and between the two of us, run up a $70 bill consisting of 3 hours at a pool table and Vanilla Stoli Cokes. Gargantuan-bartender-is-an-old-friend-freepouring-the-vodka Vanilla Stoli cokes. Who knows how many we actually drank, but might I remind you this was in Fargo, land of cheap alcohol. Then all of a sudden, I end up with Trav's co-worker dancing on my lap. Trav works at The Northern, we were at The Northern, and Trav thought we might get along well.
Well, I felt like a member of Motley Crue in that I (or Trav) wasn't paying for my generous boobie allowance, but I did pay toll in that she was talking my ear off about rural North Dakota cheerleading & female Army drill instructors, and chainsmoking Marlboros.
I woke up early in the morning Wednesday feeling like I had been out all night smoking, and it was the most revolting feeling I've had in the over two years since I quit for good. My inhaler was missing. I was incredibly dehydrated, and after I finished drinking the Red River down two feet and hopped back into bed, my little brother's alarm clock starts going off. Over & over, I have no idea how to turn the fucker off and in a fit of frustration pull the plug. The fucking thing did not die. I eventually shut off the thing by beating the buttons, which at the time appeared to be labelled in chinese, with my closed fist.
Breakfast at McDonalds was little consolation before driving back to the city on a gloomy day. We got back into the city only to be caught in roadwork traffic on 494.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Tasty Stuff.
I love Indian food.
It's kindof astounding how many people you know who've never had Indian or even ethnic food in general(aside from their own, that is) A perfect case to float my point; earlier this year I brought Hummus & Pita to work for treats one day(among other things) and NOBODY HAD ANY IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH IT.
Everyone seems to forget that long ago, Kings & Queens invented international trade in pursuit of these spices for making their own damn Indian food. Or perhaps they're not forgetting, they were probably just picking their nose in history class.
Sure, there were a few other non-edible items too like silk, cotton, & jewels, but simply, the reason why Columbus and Magellan and Hudson and Da Gama and all those other explorers we read about in middleschool were sailing the seven seas was to procure (or to find cheaper routes to procure) tasty shit from the other side of the world for rich people. Ships sailing from England around the tip of Africa to Bombay & Goa. Crews of men at sea for months risking life & limb for the simple pursuit of saffron and cinnamon and peppers and aniseed and tons of stuff I've probably never even heard of.
Today, we have that luxury at our fingertips, but it's odd how popular McDonalds et al. is in spite of that. Although Taco Bell has an incredible following, you know as well as I do that crap doesn't count. Midwestern people are incredibly xenophobic, and anything outside their comfort range is weird, unacceptable, and threatening to them.
Maybe it is for the better though; I would hate to have such good food be manufactured & genericized like that.
It's kindof astounding how many people you know who've never had Indian or even ethnic food in general(aside from their own, that is) A perfect case to float my point; earlier this year I brought Hummus & Pita to work for treats one day(among other things) and NOBODY HAD ANY IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH IT.
Everyone seems to forget that long ago, Kings & Queens invented international trade in pursuit of these spices for making their own damn Indian food. Or perhaps they're not forgetting, they were probably just picking their nose in history class.
Sure, there were a few other non-edible items too like silk, cotton, & jewels, but simply, the reason why Columbus and Magellan and Hudson and Da Gama and all those other explorers we read about in middleschool were sailing the seven seas was to procure (or to find cheaper routes to procure) tasty shit from the other side of the world for rich people. Ships sailing from England around the tip of Africa to Bombay & Goa. Crews of men at sea for months risking life & limb for the simple pursuit of saffron and cinnamon and peppers and aniseed and tons of stuff I've probably never even heard of.
Today, we have that luxury at our fingertips, but it's odd how popular McDonalds et al. is in spite of that. Although Taco Bell has an incredible following, you know as well as I do that crap doesn't count. Midwestern people are incredibly xenophobic, and anything outside their comfort range is weird, unacceptable, and threatening to them.
Maybe it is for the better though; I would hate to have such good food be manufactured & genericized like that.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Cowboys
I just saw Brokeback Mountain last night. A great movie; incredible imagery/cinematography, character development, but a sad story about living a lie. I wouldn't suggest seeing it if you ever have a propensity to feel lonely.
One thing it did *for a few minutes* was to romanticize the cowboy life. At least the working cowboy, not so much the rodeo cowboy. Living off of next to no income, far off in the mountains, working dead end jobs, getting whiskey'ed up & twostepping with barrel-racing cowgirls, living in the moment. Janis Joplin said Freedom is just another word for "nothing left to lose."
I grew up not far from where this is reality for many people. If not for parents who pushed me to go to college; I could be fixing fence, building corrals, moving cattle, tilting my cowboy hat down in front of the campfire, etc.
But then I realized this is not reality.
When I was home to the family farm over thanksgiving, I took this photo of my father moving cattle. Cows follow tractors with hay.
Not a cowboy hat, a horse, a lasso, or a winchester to be seen. Not even a dog.
That being said, I still want a pair of cowboy boots.
One thing it did *for a few minutes* was to romanticize the cowboy life. At least the working cowboy, not so much the rodeo cowboy. Living off of next to no income, far off in the mountains, working dead end jobs, getting whiskey'ed up & twostepping with barrel-racing cowgirls, living in the moment. Janis Joplin said Freedom is just another word for "nothing left to lose."
I grew up not far from where this is reality for many people. If not for parents who pushed me to go to college; I could be fixing fence, building corrals, moving cattle, tilting my cowboy hat down in front of the campfire, etc.
But then I realized this is not reality.
When I was home to the family farm over thanksgiving, I took this photo of my father moving cattle. Cows follow tractors with hay.
Not a cowboy hat, a horse, a lasso, or a winchester to be seen. Not even a dog.
That being said, I still want a pair of cowboy boots.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Fortune Cookie
I love fortune cookies. Well, I love fortunes from fortune cookies. My most prized fortune reads:
"You will never find a better sparring partner than adversity."
Friday, December 9, 2005
Just my luck
Today, I was getting an oil change and the serviceman steps into the waitingroom. I hate servicemen at car dealerships--without even knowing them, I know they're trying to fuck me big time.
He tells me that the CV boot is leaking. This means you have to pull everything apart: wheel, brakes, axle, etc...to replace the boot, and probably replace an expensive hub.
The serviceman quoted me the price to do both sides, since apparently you have to take both side apart to get at one boot. Doing both sides together would save me $60 in labor---here's the mind boggling part....THE OTHER SIDE ISN'T FUCKING BROKEN!!
He actually wanted me to pay an extra $250-$300 to fix & replace parts that are working fine!!!!
Fuck You,Village Chevrolet. Fuck you.
He tells me that the CV boot is leaking. This means you have to pull everything apart: wheel, brakes, axle, etc...to replace the boot, and probably replace an expensive hub.
The serviceman quoted me the price to do both sides, since apparently you have to take both side apart to get at one boot. Doing both sides together would save me $60 in labor---here's the mind boggling part....THE OTHER SIDE ISN'T FUCKING BROKEN!!
He actually wanted me to pay an extra $250-$300 to fix & replace parts that are working fine!!!!
Fuck You,Village Chevrolet. Fuck you.
A deep analytical dive into an incredibly unsavory minutia of Christmas.
I hate Christmas music. I can't be the only one here. What other music do you hear repeatedly in every public place 1/12th of the year? That is 27 entire months of my life -- 2.25 years in total I've heard this crap regurgitated through every MUZAK system in places of business, malls, elevators, restaurants, waiting rooms, government buildings, public squares, and car stereos of the bimbo soccermom's SUV next to me at the stoplight. I bet there's a crack house somewhere playing a silent night on repeat throughout december; with some junkie getting up from the corner periodically to flip the cassette inbetween fits of seizure.
I completely sympathize with anyone who works at a T-Mobile Kiosk in Southdale mall whose phychiatrist prescibes a daily cocktail of anti-depressants and horse tranquilizers to keep them sedated sufficiently from real life to prevent them from walking to work one day with a sawed-off 10 gauge shotgun. Thank the decade we're living in that I have a computer with a CD player & headphones at work.
Is it possible to be ANYWHERE in public on a December day and NOT hear "Jingle Bell Rock" 87 fucking times a day?
Jingle bell rock is an odd case for christmas music. It's probably the only song to break into mainstream MUZAK in the last 30 years. You hear all the others: O Come all ye faithful, silent night, the first noel, et al. Almost always in various incarnations like jazz or annoying elevator music synthesized instrumentals(remnants from the soulless 80's), sometimes its from "BARRY MANILOW SINGS CHRISTMAS" or some equally relevant pop star of yesteryear who can barely finance their coke & whore habit from their nightly Vegas appearances, but it's always the same select group of songs.
You never hear modern pop/rock/whatever adding to this queue. Why is this? How did some no-name, CLEARLY-not-rock band slide "Jingle Bell Rock" into the Chistmas playlist? It probably has alot to do with aging hipster babyboomers trying to metaphorically unbutton their collar to blend in with the young crowd without stepping outside the circle of their conservative idealogy. It's so sad to see old lamers trying to be hip--weren't you ever cool when you were a kid; even for 5 minutes? Nothing will save you now. Sorry. Playing "jingle bell rock" won't make the office fun, hip, or edgy.
Am I trying to be a Grinch? No. Am I launching an assault upon the infant messiah? No. I would take a much different stand if I was aguing with the frivouality(I know that's not spelled right) of cognizantly continuing the practice a ridiculous tradition.
I just cant stand to hear these songs so many goddamn times. Hey -- Do you know why people hate Hanson's MMM Bop, and that ludicrous Cotton Eye Joe song? Because they were played way more times that their novelty allowed. I could've probably stood to like MMM Bop for a few plays, but you know what?!?!?....the first time I heard it, my girlfriend at the time said, "OhhhhhHHH, not this frikkin' song again" If someone wrote songs about you; would you want them overplayed like a week-old-boyband song on every "TODAY's LATEST HITS" bubblegum radiostation? Of course you wouldn't. I would want it played sparingly enough that entire crowds of people stop in the middle of thoughts and conversation to listen....like when Jimmy Page breaks into the Stairway to Heaven solo. Now THAT song was made for a newborn king.
And I can tell everyone who cares to think now & then is bothered by it. Anyone whose mother drags them to a lutheran church before dinner on Christmas Day for the candlelight service knows my point before I make it. 500 people dressed in argyle sweaters mumbling mindlessly to the droning organ. .....With the exception of 4 people in the entire congregation, up 40 decibels above everyone else singing with perfect enunciation and resonance like they're starring in the opening night of a broadway show.
And it's these people who are responsible for playing this music constantly throughout December. That's the gal who always reacts with 4 times more emotion than required. This veneer of zest, sass, and crystal-meth-like hyperactivity is the archetypical defense mechanism of a plainjane-midwestern-overweight-single-in-her-mid-thirties women with a cat, a porcelain figurine, and a doll on her bed for each of her IQ points. You feel sad for them, so you smile, swear under your breath, and let them play Jingle Bell Rock.
I completely sympathize with anyone who works at a T-Mobile Kiosk in Southdale mall whose phychiatrist prescibes a daily cocktail of anti-depressants and horse tranquilizers to keep them sedated sufficiently from real life to prevent them from walking to work one day with a sawed-off 10 gauge shotgun. Thank the decade we're living in that I have a computer with a CD player & headphones at work.
Is it possible to be ANYWHERE in public on a December day and NOT hear "Jingle Bell Rock" 87 fucking times a day?
Jingle bell rock is an odd case for christmas music. It's probably the only song to break into mainstream MUZAK in the last 30 years. You hear all the others: O Come all ye faithful, silent night, the first noel, et al. Almost always in various incarnations like jazz or annoying elevator music synthesized instrumentals(remnants from the soulless 80's), sometimes its from "BARRY MANILOW SINGS CHRISTMAS" or some equally relevant pop star of yesteryear who can barely finance their coke & whore habit from their nightly Vegas appearances, but it's always the same select group of songs.
You never hear modern pop/rock/whatever adding to this queue. Why is this? How did some no-name, CLEARLY-not-rock band slide "Jingle Bell Rock" into the Chistmas playlist? It probably has alot to do with aging hipster babyboomers trying to metaphorically unbutton their collar to blend in with the young crowd without stepping outside the circle of their conservative idealogy. It's so sad to see old lamers trying to be hip--weren't you ever cool when you were a kid; even for 5 minutes? Nothing will save you now. Sorry. Playing "jingle bell rock" won't make the office fun, hip, or edgy.
Am I trying to be a Grinch? No. Am I launching an assault upon the infant messiah? No. I would take a much different stand if I was aguing with the frivouality(I know that's not spelled right) of cognizantly continuing the practice a ridiculous tradition.
I just cant stand to hear these songs so many goddamn times. Hey -- Do you know why people hate Hanson's MMM Bop, and that ludicrous Cotton Eye Joe song? Because they were played way more times that their novelty allowed. I could've probably stood to like MMM Bop for a few plays, but you know what?!?!?....the first time I heard it, my girlfriend at the time said, "OhhhhhHHH, not this frikkin' song again" If someone wrote songs about you; would you want them overplayed like a week-old-boyband song on every "TODAY's LATEST HITS" bubblegum radiostation? Of course you wouldn't. I would want it played sparingly enough that entire crowds of people stop in the middle of thoughts and conversation to listen....like when Jimmy Page breaks into the Stairway to Heaven solo. Now THAT song was made for a newborn king.
And I can tell everyone who cares to think now & then is bothered by it. Anyone whose mother drags them to a lutheran church before dinner on Christmas Day for the candlelight service knows my point before I make it. 500 people dressed in argyle sweaters mumbling mindlessly to the droning organ. .....With the exception of 4 people in the entire congregation, up 40 decibels above everyone else singing with perfect enunciation and resonance like they're starring in the opening night of a broadway show.
And it's these people who are responsible for playing this music constantly throughout December. That's the gal who always reacts with 4 times more emotion than required. This veneer of zest, sass, and crystal-meth-like hyperactivity is the archetypical defense mechanism of a plainjane-midwestern-overweight-single-in-her-mid-thirties women with a cat, a porcelain figurine, and a doll on her bed for each of her IQ points. You feel sad for them, so you smile, swear under your breath, and let them play Jingle Bell Rock.
Saturday, December 3, 2005
When my mind wanders at work
You know how you always see those major league jackasses on the road in their Suburbans or H2's at night driving by themselves, but with all 87 monitors in their vehicle playing some movie or music video?
I'm going to get the new video iPod and an armband for the gym, and play videos the whole fucking time! You're on the treadmill next to me, just walking along , until you look over and see my arm with my iPod on it.....Playing a fucking White Stripes video!
And then you, completely entranced & not paying attention, trip on the treadmill and fall face first on the belt.
I'm going to get the new video iPod and an armband for the gym, and play videos the whole fucking time! You're on the treadmill next to me, just walking along , until you look over and see my arm with my iPod on it.....Playing a fucking White Stripes video!
And then you, completely entranced & not paying attention, trip on the treadmill and fall face first on the belt.
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