Scott came over for Riff Trax night on Thursday, and before we got into the movie watching we headed over to a local restaurant to get something to eat, ending up being the jerks who come into a place ten minutes before it’s about to close.
Still, how were we supposed to know? Who expects a restaurant to close at 5:00?
Taking our food to go, we got back to my house where I heard an all-too familiar sound: a squirrel trying to escape from the trap it’s stumbled into.
I went up into the attic to retrieve trap and squirrel (which doesn’t have the same ring to it as “Moose and Squirrel”), then set it aside while we ate and started watching the movie before finally attending to the…unpleasantness.
The first movie for the night was Jurassic Park (featuring guest riffer “Weird” Al Yankovic). I had burned the DVD the other night, and then on the next day I saw that Jurassic Park author Michael Crichton had died. Some people would call that ironic, but that’s just because they don’t know what ironic means.
I will grant that it was an odd coincidence.
After Jurassic Park we watched Missile to the Moon, a movie made well before 1969 that’s just rife with all of the kinds of bizarre notions about traveling to our planet’s natural satellite that you would expect from that time period, with guest riffer Fred Willard, who was a riot.
Then we watched the Thursday night NBC comedy line-up (minus that show with Molly Shannon).
I didn’t do much yesterday beyond watching the episodes of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report that had piled up on my DVR. I also watched the premiere of Law & Order, which I’d recorded on Wednesday.
More TV watching was in order, as I watched that show Numb3rs at 10. Though I like the show I had been ambivalent about watching it this season, as I didn’t want to devote another hour to TV. Then I thought, “What else am I going to do on a Friday night?”
For anyone who hasn’t seen it, the show centers around two brothers, one of whom is an FBI agent, with the other being a college professor and math genius. The math genius and his unrealistically hot genius girlfriend, who is also a professor, and one other professor consult with the FBI, using mathematical analyses and simulations to help solve crimes.
I think it should actually be called M3taphors, because the math geniuses are constantly using metaphors to explain their computations to the math-challenged FBI agents (and viewers).
Still, it’s an entertaining show, though I spend a good portion of it wondering what the hell is up with Rob Morrow’s mouth, as he tends to move it as little as possible when speaking. He looks rather a lot like he’s holding a big wad of chew in his bottom lip. I don’t remember him doing that on Northern Exposure, but then it’s been a while.
As for today I woke up – unwillingly – around 9:30 and got up because there was a bunch of stuff I intended to do this morning. It took me about two and a half hours to build up enough motivation to shower, dress, and head out into the world.
I hadn’t stopped at the comic shop this week because every day after work I just wanted to get home as soon as possible, and also because I hadn’t made my way all through the stack of two weeks’ worth of comics I’d picked up last week.
So that was the first order of business today. Well, actually the second, as I first stopped at the bank to deposit a check that I’d gotten from my mortgage company for an overage in my escrow account.
After that I stopped to get a haircut. Once again it wasn’t as short as I would have liked. I should probably either start being more vocal and descriptive about how I want it cut, or else stop going there entirely.
As for the latter solution, I’m not really inclined to stop going there because it’s (relatively) cheap and I very seldom have to wait.
And as for the former, well, I don’t really care that much, and there have been people who think it looks better a little longer. Not really having that much of an opinion about how I look myself, and only really caring about whether or not my hair is hanging down and rubbing against my forehead, or getting full of static and clinging to my forehead, I’m inclined to just go with the results I’ve been getting.
After all, it’s not like it’s going to be a haircut that suddenly makes all the difference. There’s not going to be some chick who looks at me and thinks, “Wow, that guy over there who’s mostly-unremarkable-but-unappealing-in-a-nerdy-creepy-sort-of-way has a great haircut! I should sleep with him!” or “That guy over there is mostly-unremarkable-but-unappealing-in-a-nerdy-creepy-sort-of-way, but I might still sleep with him…if he didn’t have such a dodgy haircut.”
The other thing about the place I go to get my hair cut is that I never know what kind of additional service they’re going to throw in randomly. Usually they’ll bust out some kind of massager and give me a – rather unpleasant, actually – neck and shoulder rub, as was the case today, sometimes including a scalp massage, and sometimes they’ll shave the back of my neck with a straight razor.
Today, in addition to the lousy massage, the girl trimmed my eyebrows, which was a new one on me. I will grant that they have gotten decidedly Kirby-esque of late, though.
After that I gassed up the car and headed over to Super Target to do some grocery shopping, then returned home where, after putting away the groceries, I ate lunch, sat around for a while doing nothing in particular, then considered either taking a nap or writing a blog post.
Guess which course of action I decided on.
I was awoken from my nap by a phone call. For some reason my cordless handsets frequently become unregistered from the base station, so until they’re power-cycled they won’t actually ring or be usable. That proved to be the case with the one on my nightstand, so I had to get up and answer the phone here in the office.
It was Stacy calling to invite me over for dinner tonight. The idea of not having to feed myself was tempting, but still feeling extremely groggy and listless, the idea of driving to and from Manassas seemed less so. Ultimately I gave in to my lethargy and demurred.
The start of what has now become a nasty headache that I woke up from my nap with didn’t help make me any more amenable to venturing out into the world either.
In any case, that pretty much brings you up to date on all things Jon.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
I See A Reason Why Gunpowder Treason Should Ever Be Forgot
First of all, Happy Guy Fawkes Night, though I think that gunpowder, treason, and plot have largely been forgot.
Certainly I hope, given our current circumstances, they are things that won’t be remembered positively or fondly.
I know, I know; you’re all wondering what the hell I’m babbling about. Don’t worry: it really doesn’t matter. So don’t sweat it. Ignore me. Nothing to see here. Move along…
Scott had some family stuff to deal with, so Riff Trax night has been postponed until tomorrow, and as Pushing Daisies isn’t on, that gives me time to post an entry.
There’s one very obvious topic I could write about, but, as you should know by now, I don’t often write much about politics for, as I often say, many reasons.
One of those reasons is that they make me sad. There is an extent to which our politics and the process surrounding them are revelatory of our nature as human beings, and what is revealed is often depressing. We get to see how small, petty, spiteful, and, quite frankly, stupid we really are.
Actually, it often feels as though rather than being a simple revelation of these truths, they are actually a tribute, or a monument to the worse angels of our nature. We glorify in the spectacle of our own ignorance and stupidity. We positively wallow in it.
So, yeah. I don’t write much about politics.
I will say this much, though: Jon Stewart was right.
That’s often true, but in this instance I’m thinking of something in particular that he said last night, which is, to paraphrase, that the election of Barack Obama is a demonstration of us as Americans living up to our creed.
Regardless of what you think of him, whether you have concerns about his lack of experience, or you’ve chosen to believe the whispers and innuendo and outright lies, this historic election proves that we really are what we say we are, and that we have finally moved past giving simple lip-service to the idea that anyone can grow up to be the President, and that we really do live in a land of opportunity.
After all, if a racist secret Muslim radical terrorist Marxist Anti-Christ, or rather someone whom a depressingly vast number of people can willfully and stupidly choose to believe is all of these things, can do it, well, there’s hope for pretty much anyone, isn’t there?
There is a lot more I could say, but I won’t, for, again, many reasons.
Okay, back to the regular topics, such as…umm…and…uhh….well, you know. The usual crap.
Traffic sucked, something or other about comic books, my love life would need to buy a ladder to reach the level of pathetic joke, I’m tired, etc.
You know the drill.
Certainly I hope, given our current circumstances, they are things that won’t be remembered positively or fondly.
I know, I know; you’re all wondering what the hell I’m babbling about. Don’t worry: it really doesn’t matter. So don’t sweat it. Ignore me. Nothing to see here. Move along…
Scott had some family stuff to deal with, so Riff Trax night has been postponed until tomorrow, and as Pushing Daisies isn’t on, that gives me time to post an entry.
There’s one very obvious topic I could write about, but, as you should know by now, I don’t often write much about politics for, as I often say, many reasons.
One of those reasons is that they make me sad. There is an extent to which our politics and the process surrounding them are revelatory of our nature as human beings, and what is revealed is often depressing. We get to see how small, petty, spiteful, and, quite frankly, stupid we really are.
Actually, it often feels as though rather than being a simple revelation of these truths, they are actually a tribute, or a monument to the worse angels of our nature. We glorify in the spectacle of our own ignorance and stupidity. We positively wallow in it.
So, yeah. I don’t write much about politics.
I will say this much, though: Jon Stewart was right.
That’s often true, but in this instance I’m thinking of something in particular that he said last night, which is, to paraphrase, that the election of Barack Obama is a demonstration of us as Americans living up to our creed.
Regardless of what you think of him, whether you have concerns about his lack of experience, or you’ve chosen to believe the whispers and innuendo and outright lies, this historic election proves that we really are what we say we are, and that we have finally moved past giving simple lip-service to the idea that anyone can grow up to be the President, and that we really do live in a land of opportunity.
After all, if a racist secret Muslim radical terrorist Marxist Anti-Christ, or rather someone whom a depressingly vast number of people can willfully and stupidly choose to believe is all of these things, can do it, well, there’s hope for pretty much anyone, isn’t there?
There is a lot more I could say, but I won’t, for, again, many reasons.
Okay, back to the regular topics, such as…umm…and…uhh….well, you know. The usual crap.
Traffic sucked, something or other about comic books, my love life would need to buy a ladder to reach the level of pathetic joke, I’m tired, etc.
You know the drill.
Oh Noes! Demonz...I Haz Em
Do you have a demon? Take this short quiz to find out if you are at risk.
1) Do you sometimes exhibit uncontrollable outbursts of anger or violence?
2) Have you experimented with two or more forms of the occult?
3) Have you been sexually violated (raped, incested, molested)?
4) Do you sometimes manifest behavior not consistent with your normal personality?
5) Do you abuse alcohol or drugs to escape painful past experiences in life?
6) Do you commit immoral or illegal acts, contrary to your customary values?
7) Have you ever attempted or contemplated suicide?
8) Are you sometimes overwhelmed with feelings of severe depression and hopelessness?
9) Do you indulge in self-abusive behavior such as anorexia, bulimia, cutting or self-mutilation?
10) Have you experienced life-changing trauma from which you haven't recovered?
11) Do you know of ancestors who committed murder, suicide, or sexual perversion?
12) Do voices tell you to commit illegal acts, blaspheme God, or indulge in immoral acts?
13) Have you asked Satan to take your life in exchange for something?
14) Do you live a fear-based life resulting in paranoia or multiple phobias?
15) Have you experienced emotional or physical abuse from your biological parents?
16) Have you been emotionally or physically abandoned by either biological parent?
17) Have you felt repeated, disabling episodes of rejection or depression?
18) Have you failed repeatedly in significant relationships?
19) Have you failed to experience trust and lasting love from a significant other?
20) Do you consistently experience serious health or financial issues?
21) Are you significantly hindered in prayer, worship, Bible reading and church attendance?
Bob Larson, Do You Have A Demon?
(Found via Fundies Say The Darndest Things)
1) Do you sometimes exhibit uncontrollable outbursts of anger or violence?
2) Have you experimented with two or more forms of the occult?
3) Have you been sexually violated (raped, incested, molested)?
4) Do you sometimes manifest behavior not consistent with your normal personality?
5) Do you abuse alcohol or drugs to escape painful past experiences in life?
6) Do you commit immoral or illegal acts, contrary to your customary values?
7) Have you ever attempted or contemplated suicide?
8) Are you sometimes overwhelmed with feelings of severe depression and hopelessness?
9) Do you indulge in self-abusive behavior such as anorexia, bulimia, cutting or self-mutilation?
10) Have you experienced life-changing trauma from which you haven't recovered?
11) Do you know of ancestors who committed murder, suicide, or sexual perversion?
12) Do voices tell you to commit illegal acts, blaspheme God, or indulge in immoral acts?
13) Have you asked Satan to take your life in exchange for something?
14) Do you live a fear-based life resulting in paranoia or multiple phobias?
15) Have you experienced emotional or physical abuse from your biological parents?
16) Have you been emotionally or physically abandoned by either biological parent?
17) Have you felt repeated, disabling episodes of rejection or depression?
18) Have you failed repeatedly in significant relationships?
19) Have you failed to experience trust and lasting love from a significant other?
20) Do you consistently experience serious health or financial issues?
21) Are you significantly hindered in prayer, worship, Bible reading and church attendance?
Bob Larson, Do You Have A Demon?
(Found via Fundies Say The Darndest Things)
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Slow Week
Just a quick post to say that I'm not going to post anything.
Unless I find some time at work, I'm not likely to post anything before Friday, but somehow your lives will go on, I'm sure.
If you voted today, I hope you didn't have to spend too long in line. If you still have to vote, I hope that your wait won't be too long.
If you're sitting around watching TV in eager anticipation of election results...well, then you're not reading this, are you?
Anyway, you're seriously not missing out on anything with my lack of posts. I promise.
Unless I find some time at work, I'm not likely to post anything before Friday, but somehow your lives will go on, I'm sure.
If you voted today, I hope you didn't have to spend too long in line. If you still have to vote, I hope that your wait won't be too long.
If you're sitting around watching TV in eager anticipation of election results...well, then you're not reading this, are you?
Anyway, you're seriously not missing out on anything with my lack of posts. I promise.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Filling In The Gaps
Over the past couple of weeks there have been things I had intended to mention, but forgot, so this entry is to fill in some of those gaps.
***
On the Wednesday before I left for Michigan I decided to skip stopping at the comic shop, as I was going to be out of town anyway and didn’t want to take my comics with me, so I took the Greenway home. Normally this would mean that my drive home would take just under 20 minutes.
This time around, however, it meant that my drive home took just under 2 hours.
About 5 miles from Leesburg the Greenway became a parking lot. I had no idea why, but after about 20 minutes of waiting – and moving maybe 10 feet – a bunch of cops on motorcycles went by on the side of the road, so I concluded that there must be an accident ahead and said to myself, “Well, just so long as somebody’s hurt.” I was kidding, of course; despite how annoyed I was at the wait I wouldn’t have been pleased to know that someone had been hurt.
Well, not really pleased, anyway.
I was just glad to know that there was a reason for the delay, and hoped that it wouldn’t take long for things to get cleared up.
A short time later I heard a tremendous cacophony of sirens somewhere behind me and looked in my mirror to see a bunch of flashing lights and everyone behind me pulling off to the side of the road.
As I pulled off to the side I noticed that there didn’t appear to be any ambulances or fire trucks trying to get through, just a lot more motorcycles, a bunch of cruisers, and some big, black Suburbans.
It was at that point that I remembered: there was an Obama rally in Leesburg.
Sure enough, along with all of the police and, presumably, Secret Service vehicles in the motorcade, a big tour bus came squeezing through.
After the motorcade passed, everyone turned into an asshole and tried to prevent everyone else from getting back onto the road.
Traffic was still jacked up in Leesburg hours later when Scott and I were making our way back to my house after eating at Ruby Tuesday.
(As an aside, we went to Ruby Tuesday because a couple of nights before I was looking through a drawer and saw that I still had a Ruby Tuesday gift card from something. When I went to grab it before we went, I saw that, in fact, I still had the empty packaging that had once contained a Ruby Tuesday gift card. Still, I had my mind set on going there, so that’s where we went.)
We’d also stopped at Super Target so that I could pick up The Incredible Hulk on Blu-Ray – which is what we watched that evening – and a new, smaller carry-on bag that I would be able to keep with me when I got on the plane.
***
On my flight out of Dulles I found myself seated next to an old lady who smelled like farts and who spilled Pepsi all over my leg.
She never apologized for it, only stopping to look dismissively in my direction when I sat up in surprise, then going back to picking the ice cubes up from her tray.
She did ask the flight attendant to bring me some napkins. Actually, she said, “Could you bring him some napkins so he can wipe off his jeans?” There was a definite sneer of contempt in her voice when she said “jeans” for some reason. I mean, I really didn’t get that part. She could hardly be faulting my fashion sense, given that she was wearing jeans herself.
The flight attendant was actually kind of pretty, but there was something sort of off about her. Her hair was jet black and kind of ratty, and she looked as though she had just taken off a bunch of make-up (I don’t know how to explain what that means; I guess she looked sort of “freshly scrubbed” or something, but basically I just somehow got the impression that not long before she’d had a lot of make-up on) . I’d have to say that she looked like she might normally be Goth, but in a kind of natural way, just looking Goth without actually going through all the bother of trying to look Goth.
She also reminded me a little of this cashier who worked at the grocery store I worked at. On my last night there before starting at my job at the college I had stopped to bag for her, as all of the stockers were out fetching carts from the parking lot, and after thing slowed down she thanked me, then paused and said, “I think you rock.”
I said, “I think so, too,” which she informed me was the perfect response.
I was kind of annoyed to have a brief moment of flirtation with a cute girl at work on my last night working there.
Sometime later that week I stopped in there with my friend Eric and she and I had another moment, which led Eric to start harping on me about how I should pursue her.
I didn’t think it was worth the effort. Not because she wasn’t cute – she was – but because I’m Jon. Turns out that she was actually a student at the college I’d just started working for, so I wouldn’t have been able to date her anyway, as it was against the rules for staff to be involved with students.
(Unless there was a pre-existing relationship, of course.)
***
In Michigan, in the course of a conversation about girlfriends, or more accurately, the lack thereof, my nephew Jeremy said to me, “No offense, but I don’t want to end up like you.”
No offense. Of course. How could I possibly be offended by that?
(Rotten little smart-ass punk. I changed your damn diapers and you’re getting digs in on me? After asking me to buy you a laptop?)
Honestly, though, how could I be offended? Of course he wouldn’t want to end up like me, nor would I want him to, at least, not in the romance department.
In response I said, “Nobody wants to end up like me. Least of all me.”
***
My mom’s birthday party was held at a hotel that has a swimming pool, so naturally the kids all took advantage of the opportunity to go swimming.
However, because we were planning to take some family pictures, the kids had to hear the most evil, horrible, and vile word in the English language: wait.
For a kid, being told to wait is like poison to the ears.
My nephew Jacob decided to spend the time waiting by sitting in a chair and staring at the water in anticipation. He sat there utterly transfixed, as if looking at all of the presents under the tree on Christmas Eve.
***
While I was wandering around the Town Center on Friday before the movie, awash in a sea of families, couples, and groups of friends, I couldn’t help but think that, being the only unmatched person there, I stood out like a sore thumb. Then I decided that the expression “stood out like a sore thumb” was inadequate to the task of describing how much I stood out, and that there should be a new expression that is more suitable. Thus, alone amid the various groups of people, I stood out like Jon.
***
As I mentioned, there weren’t that many people in the theater, but at one point shortly after I sat down – again, standing out like Jon, even though I was sitting – a mixed groups of teenagers came in, which made me grit my teeth in anticipation of them being noisy. Fortunately they didn’t make much noise during the movie.
On the way back to my car I noticed that one of the girls in the group was dressed up like a schoolgirl. I’m assuming that they were all old enough to be at a rated R movie, so I only feel a little bit creepy in saying that I approved of her costume and that she looked extremely hot.
While checking out her legs I noticed that the was carrying a prop flail – which is to say, a spiked metal ball on the end of a chain – and realized that she wasn’t just dressed as a schoolgirl, she was dressed as that chick from Kill Bill, which made the costume that much cooler.
***
I really didn’t do anything yesterday – I’d showered, gotten dressed, and then realized that I didn’t actually have to go anywhere or do anything, so decided to stay home and do nothing – that nearly brings us up to date.
As for today, I found that when the majority of devices I own can automatically reset their own clocks – even my watch resets itself – it feels like a huge burden to reset the things that don’t reset themselves. The biggest hassle is trying – and ultimately failing – to get the clocks on my stove and my microwave in sync.
Apparently the hour that we gained overnight provided me with a little motivation, as, seeing that nature was doing a lousy job of taking care of the problem for me, I mowed the lawn after talking to my mother. The dense (and damp) growth only caused me to trip the circuit breaker once.
After that I decided to give the house a semi-thorough cleaning (only “semi” because I limited myself to downstairs). It’s been a while since the house got a good – or really, any – cleaning because apart from me the only person who usually sees the place is Scott, and he doesn’t care. And even if he does, so what?
Even so, it did get to the point at which I started to care a little, so now it’s clean, for whatever that’s worth.
Upstairs isn’t really in the same condition that downstairs had been – and I did at least dust up here – which is why my level of caring didn’t get past the first floor.
After that I showered, dressed, and went out to gas up the car, as did, apparently, everyone in Leesburg. I had to circle the station to find an open pump, only to find that the person at the pump ahead of me – who was nowhere to be seen – hadn’t really left me quite enough room to pull in. The hose just barely reached my gas tank, and in the struggle to get it to reach the nozzle dripped gas all over my arm. So that was fun, and made for a pleasant smell when I got in the car.
After that I headed to Super-Target – again, just like everyone else in Leesburg.
I really didn’t understand why there were so many people out and about. Shouldn’t they be home watching football, or golf, or car racing, or curling or something?
I’ve been drinking a lot of green tea for a while now, for the sake of whatever benefits it’s supposed to provide. Anti-oxidants or something?
In any case, I really like the Arizona Green Tea with Ginseng and Honey, and I buy the big gallon jugs of the stuff.
When I went grocery shopping on Tuesday, Target was completely sold out, but I wasn’t too concerned, as I knew I had enough to get me through the weekend.
Today I drank the last of what I had, so I’d intended to restock my supply. Too bad Target didn’t have the same idea.
I decided instead to pick up a 12-pack of the Lipton Green Tea with Citrus, which I also like (it tastes kind of like Original Flavor California Cooler, minus the alcohol, of course, for those who remember California Cooler).
It was only after I got home and started loading the bottles into the refrigerator that I noticed that I’d grabbed the Diet version.
*Sigh*
That and the other assorted aggravations that resulted from going out into the world were supplemented by me developing a serious case of the dropsies after I got home. Seriously, it’s like stuff is actually leaping out of my hands.
In any case, I suppose I should get back to doing the laundry, which I’m sure will result in wet clothes flying all over the place…
***
On the Wednesday before I left for Michigan I decided to skip stopping at the comic shop, as I was going to be out of town anyway and didn’t want to take my comics with me, so I took the Greenway home. Normally this would mean that my drive home would take just under 20 minutes.
This time around, however, it meant that my drive home took just under 2 hours.
About 5 miles from Leesburg the Greenway became a parking lot. I had no idea why, but after about 20 minutes of waiting – and moving maybe 10 feet – a bunch of cops on motorcycles went by on the side of the road, so I concluded that there must be an accident ahead and said to myself, “Well, just so long as somebody’s hurt.” I was kidding, of course; despite how annoyed I was at the wait I wouldn’t have been pleased to know that someone had been hurt.
Well, not really pleased, anyway.
I was just glad to know that there was a reason for the delay, and hoped that it wouldn’t take long for things to get cleared up.
A short time later I heard a tremendous cacophony of sirens somewhere behind me and looked in my mirror to see a bunch of flashing lights and everyone behind me pulling off to the side of the road.
As I pulled off to the side I noticed that there didn’t appear to be any ambulances or fire trucks trying to get through, just a lot more motorcycles, a bunch of cruisers, and some big, black Suburbans.
It was at that point that I remembered: there was an Obama rally in Leesburg.
Sure enough, along with all of the police and, presumably, Secret Service vehicles in the motorcade, a big tour bus came squeezing through.
After the motorcade passed, everyone turned into an asshole and tried to prevent everyone else from getting back onto the road.
Traffic was still jacked up in Leesburg hours later when Scott and I were making our way back to my house after eating at Ruby Tuesday.
(As an aside, we went to Ruby Tuesday because a couple of nights before I was looking through a drawer and saw that I still had a Ruby Tuesday gift card from something. When I went to grab it before we went, I saw that, in fact, I still had the empty packaging that had once contained a Ruby Tuesday gift card. Still, I had my mind set on going there, so that’s where we went.)
We’d also stopped at Super Target so that I could pick up The Incredible Hulk on Blu-Ray – which is what we watched that evening – and a new, smaller carry-on bag that I would be able to keep with me when I got on the plane.
***
On my flight out of Dulles I found myself seated next to an old lady who smelled like farts and who spilled Pepsi all over my leg.
She never apologized for it, only stopping to look dismissively in my direction when I sat up in surprise, then going back to picking the ice cubes up from her tray.
She did ask the flight attendant to bring me some napkins. Actually, she said, “Could you bring him some napkins so he can wipe off his jeans?” There was a definite sneer of contempt in her voice when she said “jeans” for some reason. I mean, I really didn’t get that part. She could hardly be faulting my fashion sense, given that she was wearing jeans herself.
The flight attendant was actually kind of pretty, but there was something sort of off about her. Her hair was jet black and kind of ratty, and she looked as though she had just taken off a bunch of make-up (I don’t know how to explain what that means; I guess she looked sort of “freshly scrubbed” or something, but basically I just somehow got the impression that not long before she’d had a lot of make-up on) . I’d have to say that she looked like she might normally be Goth, but in a kind of natural way, just looking Goth without actually going through all the bother of trying to look Goth.
She also reminded me a little of this cashier who worked at the grocery store I worked at. On my last night there before starting at my job at the college I had stopped to bag for her, as all of the stockers were out fetching carts from the parking lot, and after thing slowed down she thanked me, then paused and said, “I think you rock.”
I said, “I think so, too,” which she informed me was the perfect response.
I was kind of annoyed to have a brief moment of flirtation with a cute girl at work on my last night working there.
Sometime later that week I stopped in there with my friend Eric and she and I had another moment, which led Eric to start harping on me about how I should pursue her.
I didn’t think it was worth the effort. Not because she wasn’t cute – she was – but because I’m Jon. Turns out that she was actually a student at the college I’d just started working for, so I wouldn’t have been able to date her anyway, as it was against the rules for staff to be involved with students.
(Unless there was a pre-existing relationship, of course.)
***
In Michigan, in the course of a conversation about girlfriends, or more accurately, the lack thereof, my nephew Jeremy said to me, “No offense, but I don’t want to end up like you.”
No offense. Of course. How could I possibly be offended by that?
(Rotten little smart-ass punk. I changed your damn diapers and you’re getting digs in on me? After asking me to buy you a laptop?)
Honestly, though, how could I be offended? Of course he wouldn’t want to end up like me, nor would I want him to, at least, not in the romance department.
In response I said, “Nobody wants to end up like me. Least of all me.”
***
My mom’s birthday party was held at a hotel that has a swimming pool, so naturally the kids all took advantage of the opportunity to go swimming.
However, because we were planning to take some family pictures, the kids had to hear the most evil, horrible, and vile word in the English language: wait.
For a kid, being told to wait is like poison to the ears.
My nephew Jacob decided to spend the time waiting by sitting in a chair and staring at the water in anticipation. He sat there utterly transfixed, as if looking at all of the presents under the tree on Christmas Eve.
***
While I was wandering around the Town Center on Friday before the movie, awash in a sea of families, couples, and groups of friends, I couldn’t help but think that, being the only unmatched person there, I stood out like a sore thumb. Then I decided that the expression “stood out like a sore thumb” was inadequate to the task of describing how much I stood out, and that there should be a new expression that is more suitable. Thus, alone amid the various groups of people, I stood out like Jon.
***
As I mentioned, there weren’t that many people in the theater, but at one point shortly after I sat down – again, standing out like Jon, even though I was sitting – a mixed groups of teenagers came in, which made me grit my teeth in anticipation of them being noisy. Fortunately they didn’t make much noise during the movie.
On the way back to my car I noticed that one of the girls in the group was dressed up like a schoolgirl. I’m assuming that they were all old enough to be at a rated R movie, so I only feel a little bit creepy in saying that I approved of her costume and that she looked extremely hot.
While checking out her legs I noticed that the was carrying a prop flail – which is to say, a spiked metal ball on the end of a chain – and realized that she wasn’t just dressed as a schoolgirl, she was dressed as that chick from Kill Bill, which made the costume that much cooler.
***
I really didn’t do anything yesterday – I’d showered, gotten dressed, and then realized that I didn’t actually have to go anywhere or do anything, so decided to stay home and do nothing – that nearly brings us up to date.
As for today, I found that when the majority of devices I own can automatically reset their own clocks – even my watch resets itself – it feels like a huge burden to reset the things that don’t reset themselves. The biggest hassle is trying – and ultimately failing – to get the clocks on my stove and my microwave in sync.
Apparently the hour that we gained overnight provided me with a little motivation, as, seeing that nature was doing a lousy job of taking care of the problem for me, I mowed the lawn after talking to my mother. The dense (and damp) growth only caused me to trip the circuit breaker once.
After that I decided to give the house a semi-thorough cleaning (only “semi” because I limited myself to downstairs). It’s been a while since the house got a good – or really, any – cleaning because apart from me the only person who usually sees the place is Scott, and he doesn’t care. And even if he does, so what?
Even so, it did get to the point at which I started to care a little, so now it’s clean, for whatever that’s worth.
Upstairs isn’t really in the same condition that downstairs had been – and I did at least dust up here – which is why my level of caring didn’t get past the first floor.
After that I showered, dressed, and went out to gas up the car, as did, apparently, everyone in Leesburg. I had to circle the station to find an open pump, only to find that the person at the pump ahead of me – who was nowhere to be seen – hadn’t really left me quite enough room to pull in. The hose just barely reached my gas tank, and in the struggle to get it to reach the nozzle dripped gas all over my arm. So that was fun, and made for a pleasant smell when I got in the car.
After that I headed to Super-Target – again, just like everyone else in Leesburg.
I really didn’t understand why there were so many people out and about. Shouldn’t they be home watching football, or golf, or car racing, or curling or something?
I’ve been drinking a lot of green tea for a while now, for the sake of whatever benefits it’s supposed to provide. Anti-oxidants or something?
In any case, I really like the Arizona Green Tea with Ginseng and Honey, and I buy the big gallon jugs of the stuff.
When I went grocery shopping on Tuesday, Target was completely sold out, but I wasn’t too concerned, as I knew I had enough to get me through the weekend.
Today I drank the last of what I had, so I’d intended to restock my supply. Too bad Target didn’t have the same idea.
I decided instead to pick up a 12-pack of the Lipton Green Tea with Citrus, which I also like (it tastes kind of like Original Flavor California Cooler, minus the alcohol, of course, for those who remember California Cooler).
It was only after I got home and started loading the bottles into the refrigerator that I noticed that I’d grabbed the Diet version.
*Sigh*
That and the other assorted aggravations that resulted from going out into the world were supplemented by me developing a serious case of the dropsies after I got home. Seriously, it’s like stuff is actually leaping out of my hands.
In any case, I suppose I should get back to doing the laundry, which I’m sure will result in wet clothes flying all over the place…
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