Tuesday, May 16, 2006

The Keg rationing Incident; A reflection on life

It was much too early to go to the party. Peter and I were hungry anyway. So driving through the fallen snow we pulled over and plunged our moderately priced champagne in a snow drift. Marking the spot on the side of the road with a coke bottle. No one likes warm chapagne.
We then drove down the street to the Every Day Diner. Drinking cofee and sharing food was our prefered passtime in Hyde Park New York, and normally we'd have speant all of that friday night and some of saturday morning sitting in that booth savouring our bottomless cups. Tonight was different though. Tonight there was a party.
We later retrieved our nicely chilled bottles, and found our way to mike and ryan's place. Made a grand cork popping entrance and doned our Togas. Mine an uber tacky snakesking pattern and his merely the texas flag draped 'round his waist, the cowboy hat wat a nice touch as well.
I only remember a little of what happened that night. I remember Drunkenly dancing with a girl who, whispered in my ear that I was cute, and that she often cheated on her boyfriend. Her boyfriend was nicknamed shithead by my friends and I and was at the moment turning the color of poison ivy in the corner, red for rage and green for envy.
I also remember Allen Morgan and a group of hangers on taking the last keg hostage, and rationing it to desperate partygoers. I wonder how many hang overs they worsened by making people cut their beer with mountain dew.
I still have the picture of Dana, the pretty black girl with dreadlocks sitting on my lad as I brandished my nearly empty bottle of champagne. Dana, one of the few friends I still keep in touch with and try to visit on occaision.
I remember the jealous boyfriend slapping the back of my head in revenge as I sat on the couch. But I savor the memory of laughing at him and backing him into the wall for it.
I also remember when the party ended. Suddenly turning around and seeing a cop who shouted, "If you've been drinking please do not try to drive!", and then the mad booze fueled rush for the door. Jumping in my car with 5 or 6 random drunks and Peter. I remember the realization that there was no way I was getting that car home, handing the keys to an unbelievably sober Peter.

That was one of the good days way back when. How can I hold on to so many good memories but still look back at the whole and feel so disappointed with myself. I don't get why it's such a sad life with so many happy parts.

Why can't I look back and feel happy?

Why can't I look ahead and be excited?

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Fantasy League update:

I was recently offered a trade.
MY:
Ken Griffey Jr. (DL)
Mike Mussina
Javey Lopez

FOR:
Barry Bonds
Mike Lowel
Jason Schmidt

I declined, and Countered with an offer for HIS:

Mike Lowel
Curt Schilling
FOR:
Javey Lopez
John Smoltz
Ken Griffey Jr(DL)

Friday, April 28, 2006

Dilema:

So, I would generally consider my boss a friend both at, and out of work. Not only do I pal around with him at work, but at the end of the night I often find myself at the bar with himself and his girlfriend. His girl, also works at our restaurant as a server. I consider her a friend by the same standards listed above.
However, despite the fact they both know I have a girlfriend of my own, whom I now reside with, the boss man thinks I am trying to get in bed with his girl (I am not, for the record). Now, he won't say shit to me but he often tells her (while I am not around) not to talk to me because she wants to fuck me. So she tells me I can't talk to her anymore because of this.
So I am left feeling more or less like he called me an ass hole or worse. Never have I tried to get with a friends girl. Nor would I. So I am wondering which if any course of action should I take?
A) Call him on it.
B) Tell him that since he's being a Douchebag I may try to screw her to prove a point. (What point, I dunno but I think it would be interesting to tell a guy I am gonna try and fuck his girlfriend)
C) Tell them both to get lost and leave me out of there disfunctional (Read annoying over dramatic) relationship.
D) Ignore the whole damn reoccurring situation.

Monday, April 24, 2006

We're in.

So, I'm finally all settled in to the new place. Just a few more odds and ends to piece together, and the girl will have no more asinine chores for me (Yeah right).
And living with her is becoming interesting as well. Pleanty of ups and downs, Pro's and Con's, Bright sides and Other sides. Such as;
+ Somone to hold be accountable for not letting the place fall into a stye like condition.
- Somone always making me do stuff when I am sure I'd be much happier letting my own brand of lethargy reign supreme.
+ If I were here on my own, I'm not sure I would have had the self motivation to have ever finished unpacking. Just think, right now if it weren't for girlfriend, I would probably be sitting on a dirty milk crate writing this on a napkin with a crayon, so that I could transpose it to the computer once I go to school.
- I'm not allowed to keep dirty milk crates around because they are apparently "unsightly" and "Disgusting" despite being and excellent and traditional method of storing/displaying your possessions as a college student.
+ Girlfriend keeps the new place very clean and orderly, which I like. It is quite the luxury for me to be able to leave somthing on the floor for a few minutes without having to run it through the wash six times before using it again in good concious.
- If I ever choose to do somthing other than clean, put things away, or otherwise be "productive" while girlfriend is cleaning, I am the guilted into stabbing my own eyes out with an old piece of styrofoam as pennance for being a horrible, undeserving roomate/boyfriend.
+ It's nice not going to bed alone everynight.
- The kittens are not allowed in bed because they disturb her in her sleep with their incessant walking around and pitter pattering.

I could go on, but right now I thin I have to go clean somthing because I am probably in the Dog house for some reason or another.


When the hell did I get married?>

Thursday, April 13, 2006

ahk

I'm really bored today.
I feel like there is somthing better I ought to be doing. Somthing more important than sitting around waiting for my next class.
The move starts tommorrow, and I'm only mostly ready for it. It makes me antsy.
I'm very tired and jittery. Probably the result of not sleeping or eating enough, and drinking cofee to compensate.

I feel like playing and not being productive. I wanna giggle and run and laugh and not care. I think I wanna be seven years old again, for a while.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

The old Stickball injury

So last night, as I had finished packing up the kitchen, I noticed a rather peculiar sensation in my stomach. I was quite hungry. So I went through the speed dial, looking for a friend, somone to come out to eat with me. The closest I came was when I called Mike, who offered me a sandwhich if I came over and drank with him and the roomate. Stomach grumbling I obliged. But when I got there, the plan changed. We were actually invited to go paint at The PC studios. We had no canvas, so instead we brought an old canoe paddle the guys found, and two nalgenes of white russians. After an hour or so of painting and giggling, we finished our joint masterpiece, and the real art students seemed either impressed, or sympathetic toward our feeble attempt at artsiness. So then, we took our new "Art" and went to go play stickball. We Hijacked the new softball field and let rip. On my second time up, I swung at a low ball, and solidly connected with the ground (It is suprisingly hard to judge the reach of water sport equipment) and subsiquently dislocated my shoulder AGAIN.
So after a few more turns at batting, and some serious splintering of our "art" we found a football in the grass, and played football. My muscle memory is all but gone. Quite sad to realize that i can now longer run all out, and use my upper body for another purpose at the same time. I can still make diving cathses and one handers though, which is what really counts.

Monday, April 10, 2006

And the final countdown has begun...

Friday I get the keys to my new apartment. Friday, My girlfriend had brow beaten me into spending money on paint, and various other items of negotiable necessity. Friday I will beging cleaning, painting and shuttling my possesions to my new digs.

I have finally had enough of my old landlord. He has once again begun remodeling the front of the house (A long weekend project that has been going on for over a year now). Part of the project involved the removal of the front stairs. So last friday I called him as a reminder that i was moving out on the 15th, and that I would in fact need those stairs to get my stuff out. All I recieved was a "Well, we'll see if it works out for you... I'm not gonna rush these guys. I want this done right".

This is the straw that broke my back. This on top of my non-existant smoke detectors, illegal third floor apt above mine and the split utilities I share with said apartment, and many, many other grievances. So I am going to talk to my old boss, the Real Estate Lawyer, and see if I can't coax him into writing a letter to my landlord as my attourney.

Other than this, things are going pretty well. I got rad stuff from mom and dad for the new apartment. Two awesome pots that belonged to my grandmother who recieved them from her other who brought them over from Italy way back in the day, plus grandma's old silver. Nice stuff. PLus I have the option of taking a perfectly good wall unit off the rents hands. Just need to convince the girl it's necessary, and I think I was offered the China my mom got for her wedding.
BUT
The lil bro stole all my backpacking gear. My pack, which I have lovingly toted over many miles and mountains, faithful companion of mine. My sleeping bag, which is the secong of which he has stolen and more than likely defacated in. My new tent, which I myself have only used once, now peobably has it's parts (irreplacable parts) scattered all over the new hampshire back country . My beloved cookstove, small enough to fit in my shirt pocket, but can still boil a gallon of water as fast as the stove at home, gone as well as is my trusty mess kit, with rustic place settings for four in the size of a cantine. Total value of stolen items.. estimated at..... at least $600.00 assuming I havent missed even more of my expensive equipment.