Saturday, July 28, 2012
Lord of the Rings
The Olympics are here again and I intend to watch every single minute of them. Seriously, I've been glued to my television all day long (and boy did I get some nasty burns from that hot glue gun), watching archery, women's team volleyball, men's beach volleyball, men's swimming preliminaries, and now men's rowing. I can't pretend that I'm really a habitual devotee of any of these sports, but who among us really does follow lightweight double sculls the way that we should? I do think I'd be amazing at rowing, though; I could be the guy who sits in the back and yells at everybody that they need to row faster.
I had a few people over for the opening ceremonies last night and, as a result, they are a bit of a blur. I know there was something about Mary Poppins and something about Voldemort, or maybe it was Margaret Thatcher. I definitely remember the Queen segment, which makes sense, because obviously that was an important part of British history. Way more than, say World War II or the Norman Conquest. I was disappointed that the rumor that they would be ceremonially beheading Ann Curry during a segment based on the wives of Henry VIII turned out to be false.
They're showing some sort of cycling right now and some guy just totally wiped out while trying to go around a corner. Ah, the beauty of sport!
The Olympics are here again and I intend to watch every single minute of them. Seriously, I've been glued to my television all day long (and boy did I get some nasty burns from that hot glue gun), watching archery, women's team volleyball, men's beach volleyball, men's swimming preliminaries, and now men's rowing. I can't pretend that I'm really a habitual devotee of any of these sports, but who among us really does follow lightweight double sculls the way that we should? I do think I'd be amazing at rowing, though; I could be the guy who sits in the back and yells at everybody that they need to row faster.
I had a few people over for the opening ceremonies last night and, as a result, they are a bit of a blur. I know there was something about Mary Poppins and something about Voldemort, or maybe it was Margaret Thatcher. I definitely remember the Queen segment, which makes sense, because obviously that was an important part of British history. Way more than, say World War II or the Norman Conquest. I was disappointed that the rumor that they would be ceremonially beheading Ann Curry during a segment based on the wives of Henry VIII turned out to be false.
They're showing some sort of cycling right now and some guy just totally wiped out while trying to go around a corner. Ah, the beauty of sport!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Rising, Flailing
I saw The Dark Knight Rises last night. I really enjoyed it, despite the fact that I spent most of it surveying the crowd behind me to make sure no one was up to any funny business. And scanning the emergency exits. I'm sure you can't tell this from my other posts here, but I occasionally have some anxiety issues. I honestly would probably not have gone if we hadn't bought the tickets weeks ago. But fortunately I'm very well practiced at just listening to movies from all the time I've spent working and "watching" Lifetime at the same time, so it was not all that strange to me.
Anyway, I liked it a lot and thought it wrapped up the series nicely. I had a fairly high amount of concern about Anne Hathaway going in, essentially worrying that she might bring the same energy and enthusiasm to the role that she brought to, say, Bride Wars or last year's Oscars, but I ended up enjoying her greatly. (Of course, no one will ever top Halle Berry's miraculously subtle turn as Catwoman, but to be fair, Hathaway was not given a "ferris wheel disaster" scene to play with or a sparring partner on the level of a Benjamin Bratt.) I had been similarly worried about Tom Hardy as Bane, primarily because I could not understand a word he said (sort of like Mariah Carey) in that first preview. But as it turned out, he only lost me one or two times, and that was probably because I was eyeballing someone behind me with a suspicious backpack. I still think he was doing a Sean Connery accent, though.
I saw The Dark Knight Rises last night. I really enjoyed it, despite the fact that I spent most of it surveying the crowd behind me to make sure no one was up to any funny business. And scanning the emergency exits. I'm sure you can't tell this from my other posts here, but I occasionally have some anxiety issues. I honestly would probably not have gone if we hadn't bought the tickets weeks ago. But fortunately I'm very well practiced at just listening to movies from all the time I've spent working and "watching" Lifetime at the same time, so it was not all that strange to me.
Anyway, I liked it a lot and thought it wrapped up the series nicely. I had a fairly high amount of concern about Anne Hathaway going in, essentially worrying that she might bring the same energy and enthusiasm to the role that she brought to, say, Bride Wars or last year's Oscars, but I ended up enjoying her greatly. (Of course, no one will ever top Halle Berry's miraculously subtle turn as Catwoman, but to be fair, Hathaway was not given a "ferris wheel disaster" scene to play with or a sparring partner on the level of a Benjamin Bratt.) I had been similarly worried about Tom Hardy as Bane, primarily because I could not understand a word he said (sort of like Mariah Carey) in that first preview. But as it turned out, he only lost me one or two times, and that was probably because I was eyeballing someone behind me with a suspicious backpack. I still think he was doing a Sean Connery accent, though.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Big Developments
I know I've written here before about my kickboxing class and the various delightful characters that populate it. There's High Kicks, the guy who makes basic self defense look like the Rockettes, and Sniffles, the girl who is always five minutes late and brings her own box of kleenex. Then there's Cat Lady, an older gal who's had a lot of plastic surgery and does all the moves like she's afraid of falling and not being able to get up, and Bald Guy With Glasses, whose nickname is actually pretty self explanatory. We've also had some new additions since I last wrote, like Big Red and The Lady Who Screams The Count Really Loud But Completely Off Beat (better nickname pending), but I won't get too far into them, as I'm sure they'll be amply covered in your next Us Weekly. What I wanted to add to this scenario, though, is that the Regulars (as we collectively call them) have a clique with one another that talks endlessly with the teacher after class, knows each other's real names, jobs, and cat health histories, and remembers each other's birthdays demonstratively. They have, of course, largely ignored me over the past year and I have returned the favor with maximum prejudice. But in the past few months, as I've increased my attendance from once a week to twice (or even three times in the week my knees almost fell out of my body), they've started giving me head nods, looks of recognition, and even assorted small talk. That's right, I've arrived. And it makes me feel like taking a bath with the toaster.
I know I've written here before about my kickboxing class and the various delightful characters that populate it. There's High Kicks, the guy who makes basic self defense look like the Rockettes, and Sniffles, the girl who is always five minutes late and brings her own box of kleenex. Then there's Cat Lady, an older gal who's had a lot of plastic surgery and does all the moves like she's afraid of falling and not being able to get up, and Bald Guy With Glasses, whose nickname is actually pretty self explanatory. We've also had some new additions since I last wrote, like Big Red and The Lady Who Screams The Count Really Loud But Completely Off Beat (better nickname pending), but I won't get too far into them, as I'm sure they'll be amply covered in your next Us Weekly. What I wanted to add to this scenario, though, is that the Regulars (as we collectively call them) have a clique with one another that talks endlessly with the teacher after class, knows each other's real names, jobs, and cat health histories, and remembers each other's birthdays demonstratively. They have, of course, largely ignored me over the past year and I have returned the favor with maximum prejudice. But in the past few months, as I've increased my attendance from once a week to twice (or even three times in the week my knees almost fell out of my body), they've started giving me head nods, looks of recognition, and even assorted small talk. That's right, I've arrived. And it makes me feel like taking a bath with the toaster.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
True Excitement
This may sound shocking, but I'm beginning to question the intellects of those who respond to surveys by the Family Feud & Friends app. I just had the category "Steven Spielberg movies," to which I answered "Jaws." It had received a total of zero votes. What, were there lots of "The Terminal" and "Amistad" fans in the house? And earlier, I had the category "famous sitcom families." One of the top answers was "the Cosbys," despite the fact that there is in fact no such sitcom family -- they were Huxtables, of course. And don't even get me started on the way they divide up fruits and vegetables! Perhaps the greatest disgrace we've ever faced as a nation.
So obviously it's been a pretty eventful weekend here. Probably the greatest excitement yesterday was discovering that they're carrying my favorite cheese spread again at Jewel. Today I went down to my sister's pool, only to go nowhere near the pool due to the ridiculous amount of cloud cover. Instead we walked around the South Loop and talked until the straps on my flip flops started to hurt my feet. Then I came back here and watch the 30 greatest Olympic moments on NBC, all of which were chosen by NBC. (They graciously allowed the public to vote on the order in which those moments would be presented.) I won't spoil the outcome for you, but as a hint, it involves a tiny girl with a terrible haircut vaulting her way into the hearts of Americans everywhere.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
For the DELL of It
You didn't think I was done talking about the Dells, did you? There is so much to say that it has to be done in two parts, like a very special episode of The Golden Girls.
In addition to marauding children and horrific parents, we encountered roving teens. Our first night there we passed a pack of them as we were going to buy $3 waters at the on-site convenience store. One of them said "what's up" to us, which was apparently the most hilarious thing in the world. Yes, I've reached an age where my mere existence is comic gold for teenagers. Then on the way back, fancy waters in hand, we passed three teenage boys; I overheard one saying "I bet down here we're gonna meet some girls." And how. Everyone gets laid in the Dells. Especially if they're sleeping next to their twelve-year-old brother on a rollaway bed in their parents' room.
And let us not forget the phenomenon of the Dells bro. They were fewer in number, but no lesser in quality. You found them gathered around the "extreme" slides, where a trap door opens and you plummet five stories, talking about how extreme they were. You found them reserving "cabanas" next to the pool, presumably so they had somewhere to drink their Natty Lights, listen to Train, and rub suntan lotion on one another in peace. And in a scenario I swear I am not making up, you found them playing insanely aggressive water basketball against 50-year-old men in a wading pool while children looked on from the sidelines, wondering where it all went wrong. Poetry in motion, I tell you.
Did I mention that we went to a restaurant where the food was delivered on miniature trains? A chicken sandwich really does taste better when it's unsoiled by the taint of human-based delivery.
You didn't think I was done talking about the Dells, did you? There is so much to say that it has to be done in two parts, like a very special episode of The Golden Girls.
In addition to marauding children and horrific parents, we encountered roving teens. Our first night there we passed a pack of them as we were going to buy $3 waters at the on-site convenience store. One of them said "what's up" to us, which was apparently the most hilarious thing in the world. Yes, I've reached an age where my mere existence is comic gold for teenagers. Then on the way back, fancy waters in hand, we passed three teenage boys; I overheard one saying "I bet down here we're gonna meet some girls." And how. Everyone gets laid in the Dells. Especially if they're sleeping next to their twelve-year-old brother on a rollaway bed in their parents' room.
And let us not forget the phenomenon of the Dells bro. They were fewer in number, but no lesser in quality. You found them gathered around the "extreme" slides, where a trap door opens and you plummet five stories, talking about how extreme they were. You found them reserving "cabanas" next to the pool, presumably so they had somewhere to drink their Natty Lights, listen to Train, and rub suntan lotion on one another in peace. And in a scenario I swear I am not making up, you found them playing insanely aggressive water basketball against 50-year-old men in a wading pool while children looked on from the sidelines, wondering where it all went wrong. Poetry in motion, I tell you.
Did I mention that we went to a restaurant where the food was delivered on miniature trains? A chicken sandwich really does taste better when it's unsoiled by the taint of human-based delivery.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Weekend Watersports
So this was our big weekend in the Dells. I'd only ever driven through the Dells before, so my most substantive encounter with it was getting stuck in traffic on the interstate and pulling off to have a thrilling appetizer sampler at Perkins. But this time we actually stayed a couple of nights and it was everything I had ever hoped and dreamed.
Our resort had approximately 600 waterslides and most of them were awesome. My favorite was The Hurricane, which shot you and three of your closest friends down an extreme incline on a honeycomb innertube and then sent you careening up and down the walls of a funnel before dumping you out in a landing basin. The best part of this was that we didn't really understand what we were getting into, such that I was able to observe the exact moment when my friends peed themselves in fear. The second best part was that the acoustics in the funnel were amazing, such that my rendition of "The Greatest Love of All" was rendered especially moving. My second favorite was The Black Hole, which was like a lamer, less intense version of The Hurricane. What made that great was that I actually got stuck in it for a few minutes, resulting in me nearly being struck from behind by the next rider. My entire life flashed before my eyes and, aside from the night I invented the "gin and vodka" and ended up throwing up on a girl, it was pretty entertaining.
As expected, there were a lot of children about, which was not as big of a problem as I thought it might be. There was a brief incident where I was telling a story involving the repeated use of the word "abortion" and a child walked within earshot. We also made the mistake of going to the arcade at 10 PM, thinking that the children would be in bed, only to find that their parents had all dumped them off there so they could, I don't know, go to Dells sex parties or something. It was like walking into the Alien Queen's hive. But for the most part, the children were fine and it was their parents who were heinous. We saw one father dressing down his toddler for "putting the dirty clothes in the clean clothes bag" and another mother essentially trying to pimp out her ten year old. Some real family values, let me tell you.
So this was our big weekend in the Dells. I'd only ever driven through the Dells before, so my most substantive encounter with it was getting stuck in traffic on the interstate and pulling off to have a thrilling appetizer sampler at Perkins. But this time we actually stayed a couple of nights and it was everything I had ever hoped and dreamed.
Our resort had approximately 600 waterslides and most of them were awesome. My favorite was The Hurricane, which shot you and three of your closest friends down an extreme incline on a honeycomb innertube and then sent you careening up and down the walls of a funnel before dumping you out in a landing basin. The best part of this was that we didn't really understand what we were getting into, such that I was able to observe the exact moment when my friends peed themselves in fear. The second best part was that the acoustics in the funnel were amazing, such that my rendition of "The Greatest Love of All" was rendered especially moving. My second favorite was The Black Hole, which was like a lamer, less intense version of The Hurricane. What made that great was that I actually got stuck in it for a few minutes, resulting in me nearly being struck from behind by the next rider. My entire life flashed before my eyes and, aside from the night I invented the "gin and vodka" and ended up throwing up on a girl, it was pretty entertaining.
As expected, there were a lot of children about, which was not as big of a problem as I thought it might be. There was a brief incident where I was telling a story involving the repeated use of the word "abortion" and a child walked within earshot. We also made the mistake of going to the arcade at 10 PM, thinking that the children would be in bed, only to find that their parents had all dumped them off there so they could, I don't know, go to Dells sex parties or something. It was like walking into the Alien Queen's hive. But for the most part, the children were fine and it was their parents who were heinous. We saw one father dressing down his toddler for "putting the dirty clothes in the clean clothes bag" and another mother essentially trying to pimp out her ten year old. Some real family values, let me tell you.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Hot Times in the City
You know what is an amazing way to spend a Thursday night? Hauling all of your roof furniture down four flights of stairs so your roof deck is ready to be repaired and stained. It turns out that patio tables are, in fact, heavy. And the two giant urns that are supposed to hold flowers but right now just hold whatever random weeds took root there during the three years that everyone in my building neglected to do anything with them? Both heavy and fragile. The lounge chairs, meanwhile, weren't exactly heavy but instead specialized in awkward, such that I had to carry them down the steps one at a time. Directly to the dumpster, by the way, since they've been broken for several years now. I was actually somewhat afraid that they may have become host to a wasps' next in the time they've just been sitting out there getting rained on and molding. So the lack of pests is the good news in this scenario.
You know what is an amazing way to spend a Thursday night? Hauling all of your roof furniture down four flights of stairs so your roof deck is ready to be repaired and stained. It turns out that patio tables are, in fact, heavy. And the two giant urns that are supposed to hold flowers but right now just hold whatever random weeds took root there during the three years that everyone in my building neglected to do anything with them? Both heavy and fragile. The lounge chairs, meanwhile, weren't exactly heavy but instead specialized in awkward, such that I had to carry them down the steps one at a time. Directly to the dumpster, by the way, since they've been broken for several years now. I was actually somewhat afraid that they may have become host to a wasps' next in the time they've just been sitting out there getting rained on and molding. So the lack of pests is the good news in this scenario.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Movie Night
I saw Prometheus the other night. As I think I've mentioned, I wasn't going to see it in theaters because I don't enjoy being startled, especially not in public. I had a certain amount of fear I would end up spending the whole movie facing the projection room, which is especially awkward when there are people in the row behind you. (I know this because I have actually done this before; as a child, I spent a good portion of The Goonies watching Ashley Bettencourt go down on a box of Mike & Ikes.) But after so many weeks of release, I figured I'd probably already heard most of the major plot points (it turns out Charlize Theron is the alien's father) such that I could probably handle it. And we saw it at the second run theater, where people frankly should probably expect whatever weirdness I can throw their way. (I'm all for value, by the way, but that doesn't mean you can't clean up the Skittles packages in between showings. Or clean the bathrooms, period.)
Anyway, I thought it was all right. Noomi Rapace bugs the shit out of me and I was shocked to see that dude from The OC in a major motion picture, but obviously I loves me some Charlize and the effects were really good. The plot moves pretty well and it didn't seem long to me, except maybe for a couple of the parts where they were just kind of walking around in the dark and nothing was happening. I know everyone has been saying it's really confusing, but I have to say that I was not confused; that may just be because I didn't even spend the better part of two minutes looking for any deeper meaning. Sometimes an alien bursting out of a chest is just an alien bursting out of a chest.
I do think it's funny that the technology shown in this movie is like all kinds of holograms and Star Trek: TNG shit when the original movie (which allegedly takes place much later) they had like an Apple IIe running their whole spaceship. I mean, what happened? Did the antitrust division finally take Microsoft down?
I saw Prometheus the other night. As I think I've mentioned, I wasn't going to see it in theaters because I don't enjoy being startled, especially not in public. I had a certain amount of fear I would end up spending the whole movie facing the projection room, which is especially awkward when there are people in the row behind you. (I know this because I have actually done this before; as a child, I spent a good portion of The Goonies watching Ashley Bettencourt go down on a box of Mike & Ikes.) But after so many weeks of release, I figured I'd probably already heard most of the major plot points (it turns out Charlize Theron is the alien's father) such that I could probably handle it. And we saw it at the second run theater, where people frankly should probably expect whatever weirdness I can throw their way. (I'm all for value, by the way, but that doesn't mean you can't clean up the Skittles packages in between showings. Or clean the bathrooms, period.)
Anyway, I thought it was all right. Noomi Rapace bugs the shit out of me and I was shocked to see that dude from The OC in a major motion picture, but obviously I loves me some Charlize and the effects were really good. The plot moves pretty well and it didn't seem long to me, except maybe for a couple of the parts where they were just kind of walking around in the dark and nothing was happening. I know everyone has been saying it's really confusing, but I have to say that I was not confused; that may just be because I didn't even spend the better part of two minutes looking for any deeper meaning. Sometimes an alien bursting out of a chest is just an alien bursting out of a chest.
I do think it's funny that the technology shown in this movie is like all kinds of holograms and Star Trek: TNG shit when the original movie (which allegedly takes place much later) they had like an Apple IIe running their whole spaceship. I mean, what happened? Did the antitrust division finally take Microsoft down?
Sunday, July 08, 2012
Itinerary
So we're heading to Ravinia today for Idina Menzel with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Before you get any ideas, I will not be donning greenface or dressing as the original broadway cast of Rent; this is more about going to Ravinia than it is about any real love of contemporary belting styles. It's always kind of fun to lie on a blanket and eat cheese with your friends outdoors, even if the musical act is the last surviving members of Menudo. (Ravinia organizers are welcome to use that idea for next year, if they like.) I'm not always a huge fan of riding on a train with a mob, but somehow I doubt that Idina will inspire Backstreet levels of devotion. We shall see.
In other exciting news, we have booked a weekend in the Dells next week! I selected our resort very carefully by studying many videos of waterslides. There will also be the possibility of laser tag and go karting, although I'm guessing you have to book those pretty far in advance if you really want to be sure to get a crack at them. They did send me an electronic survey about our preferences for the trip, though, and I took the liberty of selecting the purpose as "romantic getaway," so I'm fully expecting champagne and flowers upon our arrival. The fact that there will be six of us showing up in a conversion van we are renting just for this purpose should do nothing to dull the romance, I assure you.
So we're heading to Ravinia today for Idina Menzel with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Before you get any ideas, I will not be donning greenface or dressing as the original broadway cast of Rent; this is more about going to Ravinia than it is about any real love of contemporary belting styles. It's always kind of fun to lie on a blanket and eat cheese with your friends outdoors, even if the musical act is the last surviving members of Menudo. (Ravinia organizers are welcome to use that idea for next year, if they like.) I'm not always a huge fan of riding on a train with a mob, but somehow I doubt that Idina will inspire Backstreet levels of devotion. We shall see.
In other exciting news, we have booked a weekend in the Dells next week! I selected our resort very carefully by studying many videos of waterslides. There will also be the possibility of laser tag and go karting, although I'm guessing you have to book those pretty far in advance if you really want to be sure to get a crack at them. They did send me an electronic survey about our preferences for the trip, though, and I took the liberty of selecting the purpose as "romantic getaway," so I'm fully expecting champagne and flowers upon our arrival. The fact that there will be six of us showing up in a conversion van we are renting just for this purpose should do nothing to dull the romance, I assure you.
Thursday, July 05, 2012
Night Moves
Monday night I took a Nyquil before bed so that I could make sure I got a good night's sleep. It worked, but then I spent all of Tuesday morning feeling as though I lived inside an aquarium. There was actually a period of about twenty minutes first thing where I kept falling back asleep while getting ready for work, leading to a number of interesting confusions such as me trying to brush my teeth with a butter knife. (Unsuccessful.) I also dreamed that I was on Dance Moms, even though I am neither a middle-aged child abuser nor a preteen who looks like Cybill Shepherd. Strange times.
So then Tuesday night I decided not to take anything, which resulted in me being up until 2:30 in the morning, which was spectacular only in that Burlesque was on and I really got to analyze Christina Aguilera's emotional journey up close. (Also Cher's face, which I'm pretty sure was one of the things that kept me up.) My mind was racing and then I got that weird thing where I'm hyperaware of different parts of my body, such that I don't feel like I can sleep on my side because the way my hip is hitting the mattress is completely possessing me. Anyway, another late night.
And then last night I was coming down from a day drunk (it turns out it is a bad idea to drink vodka and nothing else for five hours when you're lying outside on a 100 degree day), meaning that I had no problem falling asleep but then woke up at three in the morning craving a huge glass of water like mad and thinking that I might actually be dying. So I played Family Feud on my phone for an hour while I rehydrated and sang "Call Me Maybe" in my head until I calmed down enough to go to sleep. Not sure why that works, but it does. It's just science.
Anyway, I'm headed off to "bed" again now, but we'll see what happens. At least there's a Reba marathon on until three.
Monday night I took a Nyquil before bed so that I could make sure I got a good night's sleep. It worked, but then I spent all of Tuesday morning feeling as though I lived inside an aquarium. There was actually a period of about twenty minutes first thing where I kept falling back asleep while getting ready for work, leading to a number of interesting confusions such as me trying to brush my teeth with a butter knife. (Unsuccessful.) I also dreamed that I was on Dance Moms, even though I am neither a middle-aged child abuser nor a preteen who looks like Cybill Shepherd. Strange times.
So then Tuesday night I decided not to take anything, which resulted in me being up until 2:30 in the morning, which was spectacular only in that Burlesque was on and I really got to analyze Christina Aguilera's emotional journey up close. (Also Cher's face, which I'm pretty sure was one of the things that kept me up.) My mind was racing and then I got that weird thing where I'm hyperaware of different parts of my body, such that I don't feel like I can sleep on my side because the way my hip is hitting the mattress is completely possessing me. Anyway, another late night.
And then last night I was coming down from a day drunk (it turns out it is a bad idea to drink vodka and nothing else for five hours when you're lying outside on a 100 degree day), meaning that I had no problem falling asleep but then woke up at three in the morning craving a huge glass of water like mad and thinking that I might actually be dying. So I played Family Feud on my phone for an hour while I rehydrated and sang "Call Me Maybe" in my head until I calmed down enough to go to sleep. Not sure why that works, but it does. It's just science.
Anyway, I'm headed off to "bed" again now, but we'll see what happens. At least there's a Reba marathon on until three.
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
Birthday Party
Well, America's turning another year older. I hope someone is throwing it a party at the roller rink with pizza, sheet cake, and lots of Transformers. Although at its age, it may prefer to just have some Jell-O and watch its stories.
For my part, I'm planning to celebrate with a morning run, followed by an afternoon by the pool, complete with delicious vodka drinks in unmarked containers. (My personal lifeguard, Former Roommate Liz, will be in attendance to prevent any party-ruining drownings.) We'll probably catch the fireworks as well, assuming we can do so without encountering the huddled masses yearning to spill beer down the back of my shirt. And I'll likely still be in bed by 10:30. What a holiday!
Of course, none of this can hold a candle to Independence Days past, when I would don my white pants and red embroidered polo shirt to sing patriotic songs and medleys of show tunes with a group of similarly domesticated pre-teens. We'd jump in a white Econoline van and motor out to Mendon or Ursa or Camp Point or some other metropolis (maybe even Metropolis!) to perform for Shriners or Elks or Optimists or just plain old people. And on the way back we'd play cards and have sexless romances. Ah, to be young again!
Well, America's turning another year older. I hope someone is throwing it a party at the roller rink with pizza, sheet cake, and lots of Transformers. Although at its age, it may prefer to just have some Jell-O and watch its stories.
For my part, I'm planning to celebrate with a morning run, followed by an afternoon by the pool, complete with delicious vodka drinks in unmarked containers. (My personal lifeguard, Former Roommate Liz, will be in attendance to prevent any party-ruining drownings.) We'll probably catch the fireworks as well, assuming we can do so without encountering the huddled masses yearning to spill beer down the back of my shirt. And I'll likely still be in bed by 10:30. What a holiday!
Of course, none of this can hold a candle to Independence Days past, when I would don my white pants and red embroidered polo shirt to sing patriotic songs and medleys of show tunes with a group of similarly domesticated pre-teens. We'd jump in a white Econoline van and motor out to Mendon or Ursa or Camp Point or some other metropolis (maybe even Metropolis!) to perform for Shriners or Elks or Optimists or just plain old people. And on the way back we'd play cards and have sexless romances. Ah, to be young again!
Sunday, July 01, 2012
Moving Day
I have new downstairs neighbors and I'm not quite sure what to make of it yet. All I really know about them so far is that I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork for the condo association so that they could get their mortgage, but that's pretty much going to be true of anyone who isn't an oil baron or railroad tycoon. I saw people moving stuff in and out yesterday, but I couldn't tell for sure which ones were the neighbors and which ones were just movers. I take ownership of a hernia belt to be a pretty good sign that one is a mover, though I suppose it could just be a fashion thing. Medical implement chic is going to be all the rage this season, I just know it.
My instinct is that new neighbors will be a good thing. The prior residents were perfectly nice, but they had two dogs who barked all the time and, in their latter days, twins who cried all the time. They also had the habit of fighting and fucking loudly, although not always in that order. It made it awkward to see them in the hallway, especially the one time when the lady found a package for her there and released an expression of excitement and satisfaction. I didn't want to let on it was an expression I had heard from her before through the bedroom floor.
Of course, these new people could be jerk college kids or Satan worshippers or Latin Grammy winners or something. So we'll take a wait and see attitude. If they ask me to turn down the Lifetime, I am going to be pissed.
I have new downstairs neighbors and I'm not quite sure what to make of it yet. All I really know about them so far is that I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork for the condo association so that they could get their mortgage, but that's pretty much going to be true of anyone who isn't an oil baron or railroad tycoon. I saw people moving stuff in and out yesterday, but I couldn't tell for sure which ones were the neighbors and which ones were just movers. I take ownership of a hernia belt to be a pretty good sign that one is a mover, though I suppose it could just be a fashion thing. Medical implement chic is going to be all the rage this season, I just know it.
My instinct is that new neighbors will be a good thing. The prior residents were perfectly nice, but they had two dogs who barked all the time and, in their latter days, twins who cried all the time. They also had the habit of fighting and fucking loudly, although not always in that order. It made it awkward to see them in the hallway, especially the one time when the lady found a package for her there and released an expression of excitement and satisfaction. I didn't want to let on it was an expression I had heard from her before through the bedroom floor.
Of course, these new people could be jerk college kids or Satan worshippers or Latin Grammy winners or something. So we'll take a wait and see attitude. If they ask me to turn down the Lifetime, I am going to be pissed.
