Q: How much do I regret starting the motif of beginning these with a question.
A: Tons.
(WARNING - my life has been a virtual barren tundra as of late, devoid of any misadventures or stories... The following is an insane amount of loose ends that have rattled their way out of my mind and onto my blog)
Tonight, at a stop light, a girl well in her early twenties yelled over and said - "You're cool!"
I looked back and jokingly yelled back, "You rock" while giving a Thumbs Up gesture.
Hours later, the entire incident is bringing my blood to a tepid boil.
Seriously? C'mon. I didn't need that today.
I have a confession to make.
The World Cup is a joy to watch.
That's not the confession - the confession is that I have yet to be able to watch an entire contest from start to finish. The beautiful HD green, the lifeless British commentary, the hypnotic buzz of those horns - puts me to sleep. I love it. I wish these games were on at night. If there's a goal, I go back and rewind. I knew I'd enjoy this year's World Cup, but not like this.
For the first time... ever... I wore a sweater vest. It was really for a comedic joke five years in the making. You see, after five years at my company you become fully "vested" in the pension plan. I decided to take this financial status quite literally today. These sweater vests are very popular, especially around my office. Many golfers prefer them as well. I can't help but think they look like life preservers. Wearing one made me feel like I was waiting on a dock looking for a jet ski. To those that like wearing sweater vests - who like the medium level of warmth while freeing up your limbs to be limber - I'm happy for you. Please don't take offense. The only people that should be offended about my displeasure of sweater vests are my family. I once made a stupid scene rejecting a sweater vest gift.
The new season of kickball, under new management (read: not me), started with a win by the score of 5 to 0. For the first time, I wasn't Captain and wasn't kicking last in the lineup. I got a single my first time up and scored one of our runs. Not to mention I had a good day in the field, making the first peg-out of the season. The move of finding someone to replace me as team leader is the early leader for best social move of 2010.
Did you hear that Manute Bol died?
If I decide to start another godawful blog, it's going to be dedicated to Pulled Pork Sandwiches. I've been eating a ridiculous amount of these over the past two years. It's almost gotten to the point that I'm opening up a menu just to find it. I could write about the sandwich at Russells, then a post about this local joint called Wally's. How do the Brew Pub efforts stand up? Thankfully, I don't think Portillo's has this on their menu. If they did, someone may have to call the CDC 'cause I'd be eating there in epidemic proportions.
Portillos, for better or worse, is becoming one of my most favorite restaurants. I can sincerely (in other words, sadly) say that the last 5 times I've been there I've had 5 different items. I can probably go the next 5 times and continue the unique ordering. I usually don't act this way at restaurants.
I spent over a half hour tonight in silence sitting on my porch during the rain. For those that don't know, there's an overhang that keeps me somewhat shielded from the elements. I meant for it to be a calming action, but I had trouble ridding my mind of irritating thoughts. Guys who are pricks, Girls who are clueless, powers that... It was a mental ramble of disorienting proportions. The conclusion I gave myself, which is one that I've arrived at before, is that I over-analyze many stupid things. Most of which I end up being harshly self critical. It costs me precious confidence when I get like that.
When I can't quickly find a playlist that I want to listen to, I know I'm in for a bad day. I'm overdue for a new chill out album. In the meantime, I'll throw on The xx album again and dull the edge I've been riding.
I'm halfway through Dexter. (I have now seen the first two of it's so far four seasons)
You gotta love the recent innovations of streaming NetFlix to your TV. I hope it catches on and more titles (such as Dexter season 3) become available through that vessel.
The other day I used the term "effortless beauty" to describe a very attractive woman to two close friends. This statement, or maybe the fact that I said it, was called out and discussed. I tried to reinforce how attractive I find the concept of "low maintenance." Is this a manifestation of my laziness? I don't know. If I knew how to play an acoustic guitar I may consider writing a song about that effortless beauty. Lyrics would include her gym workouts featuring clothes not color coordinated, yet matched on a different plane of consciousness. The chorus of the song would include a two step cadence that would balance her approachability and distance. The song would become featured on a myriad of MTV non-competition based reality programming.
Here's an idea - I want to sit in a bar with a tip jar offering slogans for a nominal fee. If you want a name for your fantasy football team - drop in a buck. How about a nickname for someone you just met? Maybe these strangers would just want a single word to describe a painting they are considering. I think I'd be okay in that vibe. Just casually minding my own business until called upon to write on the stack of colored 4 x 6 note cards piled just off center on the table. Examples might include "Squeeze me Jesus!" "Jones and Juice" "Hyperbolic" "Moop"
The last time I was at my barber I asked him if he knows how often I go in between hair cuts? I felt stupid asking. I've been deciding on when to go cut my hair for quite a while now, shouldn't I know this? It seems lately I play something like a game of chicken with my hair - in which I let it keep growing to the point that I can no longer deal with it and need it chopped. It's either that strategy or I see an event on the calendar that would require optimal hair. Such an event is coming up somewhat soon, and I had to have a crazy inner monologue weighing if I could wait the extra weeks or not.
At what point are you locked in for the rest of your life with a hairstyle? I think I've gone through about 5 or 6 in my 31 years. I wonder if me at 51 will have some kind of odd side part, like the 1993 version of me. Of course, my hair could always start falling out - that would be a game changer. My Dad has been modeling the "ring around the scalp" look going on over 50 years now.
It's been a while since I've bought a pair of shoes. I just typed that with a sense of accomplishment. A couple years ago, I began to wonder if I should be concerned at the number of shoes I owned. It was nothing that required a documentary feature, but the pairs were starting to add up as my life boringly diversified (black dress, brown dress, casual non athletic, casual athletic, basketball only, golf only, outdoor basketball only, Misc. Crap Footwear). Sometimes I miss the days when feet grew - when getting new shoes was a fun necessity, not a chore. Once upon a time I was unable to walk past a Foot Locker without looking at every single shoe for sale theorizing of what my feet could grow into next. Now I wear shoes until the literally fall off my feet into shards of debris. Pretty soon I'm going to be one of those people that buy multiple pairs of the same shoes. I already wish I had did it because I want the exact same shoes again - and in one case, regret a recent "downgrade" every time I drag'em over to my socked feet.
Decided tonight: every bedroom of my future will require a ceiling fan. This is now a necessity to my life.
For example, when my friend got a short story published - I quickly ordered the literary magazine (see picture of me astounded). Or, if I happen to see local Achievers coordinating a Burlesque show, I try my best to help spread the word.
