Friday, September 01, 2006

memorandom ii

  • Don't bother me when I'm watching Planet of the Apes on TV. It was like old times around here this morning. When I say "like old times," what I mean is that I'm hungover. I forgot how fun/incredibly irritating it is to be oh-kinda-queasy while at work. You see they were selling a beer for a dollar a bottle last night. What beer? Who cares? I said it was a dollar. Hello. As you could guess, that is a recipe for disaster. It's also a recipe for me kinda-drunk-dialing my work voicemail from the bar. Yah, I did. I wanted to remind myself to email a friend a happy b-day, uh, email. I am not afraid to admit that I laughed when I listened to myself tell myself to wish him a happy birthday and tell him that he's a "fucking talentless hack." I did not have a lot to eat for dinner last night. Dollar beers have a more pronounced effect on a near-empty stomach. While I had a chuckle, I was also disturbed. My voice sounded really funny. I sound like such a girl when I hear myself. I guess that means I sound like a girl. It's humiliating. It's like when you're 12 and telemarketers think you're your mom and call you ma'am. Yah, that's neat if you're a chick, but when you're a guy, it stings - bad. In my head I do not sound like my mom calling my friend a talentless hack. I sound like Barry White, except more of a ladies' man. On the phone I sound like Jerry Lewis in the Nutty Professor - the dorky Jerry Lewis and even the French hate me.

  • The long and winding road leads me back. Remember how the dollar lot became the 2 dollar lot and I cried? Well, the new lot was a 2 dollar lot (but closer) and then it became a 2.50 lot. 2.50 lot? WTF? Doesn't roll off the tongue at all. So, vestigal tail between legs, I moved back to 2 dollar/dollar lot. It is amazing how spoiled I got from walking 100 fewer yards. I hate the dollar lot with a passion now. It being really, really, reallllly far away. And you have to navigate so many more hoboes . . .

  • America, Fuck Yeah! So, the Cleveland National Air Show (Cleveland National is kind of an odd construction, isn't it?) is going on this weekend. And yesterday, I have to admit I didn't mind the long walk to my parking lot at all. Why? Well, the Blue Angels were using downtown Cleveland as their personal practice facility and I got to see some of it first hand. I would say at times they were flying lower than the tallest buildings downtown. They were basically stopping at red lights, honking at slow-moving commuters, flipping off jaywalkers, the whole deal. I was really into jet aircraft (not bullshit commuter jets, but kickass war machines) after I attended my cousin's graduation from the Air Force Academy when I was a wee lad. (Quick aside, you know how the graduates toss their caps at the end of the graduation ceremony (Look here under "Tossing of Graduation Hats")? Well, I was under 12 at the time and that little girl will never forget the hip check I gave her to get one of those freaking caps.) Are there any greater man's men then fighter pilots? Anyway, I studied jets a lot, considered applying for the Air Force Academy, then found out I was nearly blind in both eyes (ok I exaggerate) and that's a deal-breaker for jet piloting.

    As I watched those F/A-18s soaring overhead, flying in formation mere yards away from each other, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. The little boy inside me died yesterday. His name was Tony.

  • Superhero refresher. My workout buddy is a big dude, tall, strong, you know the deal. I have a protective layer of fat around myself in case I get caught in a snowdrift and have to survive off my own girth. We work with someone he graduated from high school with. One day we were in the gym and he (the high school friend) was commenting on how we're always together. He said to workout buddy, "You're like Superman," then, looking at me, "you're Robin."

    I thought of this today because workout buddy is on vacation and he missed omelet bar. When omelet chef saw me without him, he said, "Where's your boy? Where's Batman? You guys are like Batman and Robin." WTF? I am older and wiser, why am I not Batman? I shouldn't complain. The way things started I'm lucky I didn't end up as Underdog.


Anonymous rs2 said...

>$1 PBR's= >similarity to Jerry Lewis. Call yourself sober...not Barry White but not Mom either.

4:27 PM

Blogger May-B said...

Technically, if you think to the Batman and Robin where Chris O'Donnell was Robin, then Robin is the hot one. And looked great in that muscle fitting chest plate. So, it could be a compliment.

4:48 PM

Blogger NewYorkMoments said...

Thank God for this humor. I'm stuck in Wisconsin for another 3 days. I may just make it out alive now.

9:47 AM

Blogger Nukie said...

Is it just me or does it appear like you are going through an Identity Crisis?

First, it was Rick Astley.

Then, Jerry Lewis, Tony and Robin.

9:50 PM

Blogger Shannon said...

Laser eye surgery. Tony could live on...

8:17 PM

Blogger roger said...

rs2: I'm not as funny sober.

May-B: You worked really hard for that - and I appreciate it.

NYM: They have internet there. Just kidding. But I'm glad I was able to help.

Nukie: No more so than usual.

Shannon: I would la-la-love to get it, but I am a bad candidate because my Rx keeps changing. I know. I will be completely blind in a few years.

9:25 AM


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