Monday, December 31, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
Ginger Bread Shack (Love Sold Seperately)
Last week at work we had a Holiday Party where we were (strongly) encouraged to make structures from gingerbread. I'd never done such a thing before, so absent of any preconception, I shot from the heart. Behold, my Ginger Bread Shack:
- Quality, delicious construction,
- Firewood, for those cold, long winters,
- Tin roof,
- Stack of tires,
- Dead grass,
- Broken flagstone sidewalk,
- Tire four, around back,
- Crawlspace, because critters need homes too.
Adventure Today!
Saturday night we "got some weather" in the form of a mess of sleet. I couldn't shovel it. I had to pick at it, then scoop the chunks aside. Yesterday it took me two hours to clear most of the driveway and the sidewalk in front of my house. I don't know what we did to piss off God, but it must have happened recently, because when I was a kid, I remember snow dammit. Not this two inches of Satan's own frosty brine from hell.
My town isn't famous for its street plowing. Also, it's on the side of a hill. This is fun if you're into staring out the window, waiting for something cool to happen. Not if you like to keep your premiums down. I'm fortunate enough to have off street parking behind my house. Unfortunately my only access to these spots is a one lane alley that runs uphill. Let's say that my house is 75% of the way up this hill. I only got my car 40% of the way up before I lost momentum. There was a set of well worn tracks that was mostly patches of slush and ice with some rare areas worn through to the pavement. I kept backing up about 20 feet and trying to get a run, but I never got as far up as I did the first time. I knew I should have gotten a better run from the start, but I didn't because I 1) foolishly thought the road would be in better shape than last night, and 2) was made nervous by all the damn kids screwing around in the alley as they made their way to school. I had to back my way down the whole hill and park in a lot that's about five minutes away by foot. Though this was all stressful, I don't think it would have been so bad if I didn't have to really poop.
I debated leaving my car in the lot against making another try before dusk, thinking the roads would have melted the most by then. My second attempt proved more fruitful, though scarier, as I floored it on the way up and made a 15 mph Hail Mary drive into my driveway through the uncleared ice.
Other recent adventures include: losing my ATM/check card, and ripping half my pinky toe nail off by stubbing it into the door jam (thanks Starbuck!).
The weekend wasn't all bad though. Got to have spur the moment dinner with old friends, watch The Office, Natural Born Killers, and Putney Swope with the Mistress, and I do believe we made some tea.
My town isn't famous for its street plowing. Also, it's on the side of a hill. This is fun if you're into staring out the window, waiting for something cool to happen. Not if you like to keep your premiums down. I'm fortunate enough to have off street parking behind my house. Unfortunately my only access to these spots is a one lane alley that runs uphill. Let's say that my house is 75% of the way up this hill. I only got my car 40% of the way up before I lost momentum. There was a set of well worn tracks that was mostly patches of slush and ice with some rare areas worn through to the pavement. I kept backing up about 20 feet and trying to get a run, but I never got as far up as I did the first time. I knew I should have gotten a better run from the start, but I didn't because I 1) foolishly thought the road would be in better shape than last night, and 2) was made nervous by all the damn kids screwing around in the alley as they made their way to school. I had to back my way down the whole hill and park in a lot that's about five minutes away by foot. Though this was all stressful, I don't think it would have been so bad if I didn't have to really poop.
I debated leaving my car in the lot against making another try before dusk, thinking the roads would have melted the most by then. My second attempt proved more fruitful, though scarier, as I floored it on the way up and made a 15 mph Hail Mary drive into my driveway through the uncleared ice.
Other recent adventures include: losing my ATM/check card, and ripping half my pinky toe nail off by stubbing it into the door jam (thanks Starbuck!).
The weekend wasn't all bad though. Got to have spur the moment dinner with old friends, watch The Office, Natural Born Killers, and Putney Swope with the Mistress, and I do believe we made some tea.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Freedom, Horrible Freedom
Freedom
Today was my last day of work for about a month. My job is only ten months, so between December and January, I come suddenly into a glut of free time. I have some goals in mind about how I should spend this precious resource. For one thing, I want to do something creative, like write, for at least an hour once each day. If I miss a day here or there I should be okay, so long as I do it most days. The other goal is to finally make this house mine: finish the kitchen, clean out the bathroom closet, decorate, and enjoy. Doesn't sound like too much to ask, does it? We'll see.
Master of all I see
The situation on my Grape iMac is as follows: with OS 9 installed, I'm able to play DVDs without a problem. However, under Linux, they are unwatchable. Under Linux, I can watch DivX, AVI, and other compressed video formats. I can't easily find players to do so for Mac OS 9. The solution: dual boot.
Without going into the gruesome details, it was a chore and a half to get this thing to dual boot. Last night I experienced the fabulous, magical moment when the whole damn thing finally worked. I felt cocky as hell. It runs Xubuntu fairly well, and browsing the internet suprisingly does not suck. (We're talking eight year old tech here people, and mid range tech at that.)
Also, I made a desktop for it:
I wanted to incorporate the the purple coloring while giving a nod to Xubuntu (the mouse in the circle thing). None of the desktops I found online matched the intense grapeness the iMac exudes. They just don't color 'em like the used to. Remember when the look caught on, and everything plastic was being made with fruity iMac like colors? That didn't last long. It was a late 90's thing, what with the good times and optimism and all.
While waiting for packages to download and install I framed some more posters. I had one really nice frame that was the size of the last two posters I had left. One was a Mallrats poster, the other a Star Trek IV poster. I decided to go with the Star Trek poster, even though I already knew where I wanted to hang the Mallrats poster, because it is a vintage, beat up poster. I felt seniority won it. It wasn't until after I got it all mounted that I noticed the following:
How freaking cool is that? I had no idea!
Frames
Sunday the Mistress and I went on a trip to find barry sax reeds (for her) and poster board (for me). For poster board we ended up at Michael's. I left spending way more than I intended to, for they had poster frames on sale, and you see, I must frame posters for reasons not yet determined. Actually, I think it's because I framed one, and felt that I had to frame the rest or they wouldn't look right. It was stressful, weighing out whether or not I buy these sweet frames on sale, or whether I wait like I was planning to so I'd have more money to buy other people things for Christmas, but in the end, my selfish-ass won.
Saturday
Oh geez, let's see.
Last weekend was a "take it easy" kind of weekend. Saturday The Mistress and I took a trip out to visit my college friend Johnny Blue Jeans. He had dinner and desert waiting for us: a delicious teryaki style pasta and chicken dish, followed by tea, canollis, and napoleons. His friends Brackus and Q.B. were there as well, and we all took delight in light discussion and ping pong.
Johnny Blue Jeans spent two years in Ukraine for the Peace Corps after college. I can't imagine how much he learned or how valuable that kind of perspective is. The last time I was at his house, I think, was his welcome back gathering about a year ago. I remember him looking both overwhelmed and distant. I'm sure part of it was time zone shock, but it made me think about how jarring it would be to culture switch instantaneously the way he had.
He was certainly more present and accounted for this weekend, though as we talked some tough themes certainly came up. That night I think I attributed them to a search for identity and meaning after having his home culture checked against another. After reflecting, I came back to the same conclusion I have again and again: no one I know in my age group knows what the fuck. That is to say: none of us have a clear drive or passion, (or if they do, not one they can sustain or pursue), none of us have a clear idea of what we feel we ought to be doing with our lives, and none of us have a sense of who we are or who we want to be.
Maybe I just hang out with too many atheists.
Friday
I (finally) had lunch with the Templetons! We discussed writing, school, work, family, and the what-nots. See, I'm trying to figure out who I am, or, more importantly(?), who I want to be. I'd like to go back to school, but seriously, for what? The answer is obvious: for something I'm passionate about, or for something that will allow me to do something I'm passionate about. What, then? Do I go to school for an MA or an MFA for writing? Do I look into something maybe dealing with gender studies, and take it all the way to a PhD? Do I try my hand at the LSATs and see if I can dig my way through law school just because the challenge excites me? No one can answer except me, of course. This would be fine except I don't know what the fuck.
The Templetons, being professors, students, practitioners, and admirers of the written word, spoke mostly of English MA programs and Creative Writing MFAs. Both lead you to teaching positions by default, and their advice was this: only go all the way it if you're sure that's what you'll want to do. I've never taught, and frankly, the notion of trying scares me. I love explaining things to people who are interested, but that hardly encapsulates the experience of teaching today. The more I read about how tough it is, the more I feel I'm not cut out for it.
On another note, Mr. Templeton's teaching an advanced poetry class this spring. I saw it in the class listings, but would never have asked about it, since I failed the last class I took with him. (It was an independent study course we designed, and never finished my portfolio to wrap the course up. A bout of writer's block combined with having graduated did me in.) He, however, asked if I would be interested in sitting in his class. Of course I said I was interested, and plan on emailing him soon to say yes. It's 9:20 in the morning or so, but where the class is held is less than 5 minutes walking distance from my house, which is just too cool. I know it's not coming across here, but I am so incredibly excited about this.
Car Parts
To celebrate the birth of Dark Mistress Hawthorne, I presented her the following: Windshield Wiper Blades and a (very nice) Mag Lite. (Also, a hand made card and a promise to dinner out somewhere nice.) She loved it. She was especially excited about the wiper blades, as hers currently suck, but she would never get around to actually replacing them. (We all know how that is.) She loved the gifts and is still my girlfriend, for which I am glad.
Today was my last day of work for about a month. My job is only ten months, so between December and January, I come suddenly into a glut of free time. I have some goals in mind about how I should spend this precious resource. For one thing, I want to do something creative, like write, for at least an hour once each day. If I miss a day here or there I should be okay, so long as I do it most days. The other goal is to finally make this house mine: finish the kitchen, clean out the bathroom closet, decorate, and enjoy. Doesn't sound like too much to ask, does it? We'll see.
Master of all I see
The situation on my Grape iMac is as follows: with OS 9 installed, I'm able to play DVDs without a problem. However, under Linux, they are unwatchable. Under Linux, I can watch DivX, AVI, and other compressed video formats. I can't easily find players to do so for Mac OS 9. The solution: dual boot.
Without going into the gruesome details, it was a chore and a half to get this thing to dual boot. Last night I experienced the fabulous, magical moment when the whole damn thing finally worked. I felt cocky as hell. It runs Xubuntu fairly well, and browsing the internet suprisingly does not suck. (We're talking eight year old tech here people, and mid range tech at that.)
Also, I made a desktop for it:
I wanted to incorporate the the purple coloring while giving a nod to Xubuntu (the mouse in the circle thing). None of the desktops I found online matched the intense grapeness the iMac exudes. They just don't color 'em like the used to. Remember when the look caught on, and everything plastic was being made with fruity iMac like colors? That didn't last long. It was a late 90's thing, what with the good times and optimism and all.
While waiting for packages to download and install I framed some more posters. I had one really nice frame that was the size of the last two posters I had left. One was a Mallrats poster, the other a Star Trek IV poster. I decided to go with the Star Trek poster, even though I already knew where I wanted to hang the Mallrats poster, because it is a vintage, beat up poster. I felt seniority won it. It wasn't until after I got it all mounted that I noticed the following:
How freaking cool is that? I had no idea!
Frames
Sunday the Mistress and I went on a trip to find barry sax reeds (for her) and poster board (for me). For poster board we ended up at Michael's. I left spending way more than I intended to, for they had poster frames on sale, and you see, I must frame posters for reasons not yet determined. Actually, I think it's because I framed one, and felt that I had to frame the rest or they wouldn't look right. It was stressful, weighing out whether or not I buy these sweet frames on sale, or whether I wait like I was planning to so I'd have more money to buy other people things for Christmas, but in the end, my selfish-ass won.
Saturday
Oh geez, let's see.
Last weekend was a "take it easy" kind of weekend. Saturday The Mistress and I took a trip out to visit my college friend Johnny Blue Jeans. He had dinner and desert waiting for us: a delicious teryaki style pasta and chicken dish, followed by tea, canollis, and napoleons. His friends Brackus and Q.B. were there as well, and we all took delight in light discussion and ping pong.
Johnny Blue Jeans spent two years in Ukraine for the Peace Corps after college. I can't imagine how much he learned or how valuable that kind of perspective is. The last time I was at his house, I think, was his welcome back gathering about a year ago. I remember him looking both overwhelmed and distant. I'm sure part of it was time zone shock, but it made me think about how jarring it would be to culture switch instantaneously the way he had.
He was certainly more present and accounted for this weekend, though as we talked some tough themes certainly came up. That night I think I attributed them to a search for identity and meaning after having his home culture checked against another. After reflecting, I came back to the same conclusion I have again and again: no one I know in my age group knows what the fuck. That is to say: none of us have a clear drive or passion, (or if they do, not one they can sustain or pursue), none of us have a clear idea of what we feel we ought to be doing with our lives, and none of us have a sense of who we are or who we want to be.
Maybe I just hang out with too many atheists.
Friday
I (finally) had lunch with the Templetons! We discussed writing, school, work, family, and the what-nots. See, I'm trying to figure out who I am, or, more importantly(?), who I want to be. I'd like to go back to school, but seriously, for what? The answer is obvious: for something I'm passionate about, or for something that will allow me to do something I'm passionate about. What, then? Do I go to school for an MA or an MFA for writing? Do I look into something maybe dealing with gender studies, and take it all the way to a PhD? Do I try my hand at the LSATs and see if I can dig my way through law school just because the challenge excites me? No one can answer except me, of course. This would be fine except I don't know what the fuck.
The Templetons, being professors, students, practitioners, and admirers of the written word, spoke mostly of English MA programs and Creative Writing MFAs. Both lead you to teaching positions by default, and their advice was this: only go all the way it if you're sure that's what you'll want to do. I've never taught, and frankly, the notion of trying scares me. I love explaining things to people who are interested, but that hardly encapsulates the experience of teaching today. The more I read about how tough it is, the more I feel I'm not cut out for it.
On another note, Mr. Templeton's teaching an advanced poetry class this spring. I saw it in the class listings, but would never have asked about it, since I failed the last class I took with him. (It was an independent study course we designed, and never finished my portfolio to wrap the course up. A bout of writer's block combined with having graduated did me in.) He, however, asked if I would be interested in sitting in his class. Of course I said I was interested, and plan on emailing him soon to say yes. It's 9:20 in the morning or so, but where the class is held is less than 5 minutes walking distance from my house, which is just too cool. I know it's not coming across here, but I am so incredibly excited about this.
Car Parts
To celebrate the birth of Dark Mistress Hawthorne, I presented her the following: Windshield Wiper Blades and a (very nice) Mag Lite. (Also, a hand made card and a promise to dinner out somewhere nice.) She loved it. She was especially excited about the wiper blades, as hers currently suck, but she would never get around to actually replacing them. (We all know how that is.) She loved the gifts and is still my girlfriend, for which I am glad.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
I Forgot To Add... Racism!
The Mistress reminded me that I forgot to mention Saturday's party at Easycheese's house. Every year (I'm guessing) Easycheese, an old friend from high school, hosts a "Thanksgiving Leftovers Party", the theme of which is: bring a dish of leftover Thanksgiving food. Though doors technically opened at one, by the time the Mistress and I arrived (at seven or eight I think) there was already a room temperature buffet of meats and deserts.
Our contribution was a pumpkin roll, one of six I helped D.M.H. make. I'm glad she set one aside for the party, as I would hate to have to pick out one leftover and bring it, thus breaking up the "Thanksgiving Set". Thanksgiving isn't about the Turkey. It's about the synergism of all the holiday dinner components.
I'm never using the word synergism to describe anything food related again. You know why.
This party was a get together for people who knew each other in high school, and the people some of those people met in college. I was very excited to see some of them, The Big E in particular. See, The Big E and Easycheese were in my Spanish class my freshmen year of high school. Now, myself, I liked Star Trek. I liked They Might Be Giants. I spent most of my time with my computer. I was, what you might say, a nerd. Being a freshmen, I was still feeling out my place in the ambient social hierarchies. The Big E and Easycheese were both upperclassmen, and they were "nerds" as well. With them, I was able to delight in and celebrate oddities and absurdities everyone else was too cool or too distracted to get. They made it "okay" to be a "nerd", and I am forever indebted to them for that.
Also at the party was Raucous P. L. B. Filibuster. Raucous is brash, loud, forward to the point of being borderline rude, and just a damn good time. He also was an upperclassmen I knew from high school, and I still can't put my finger on why we get along. I don't even know that we do. Maybe I just enjoy listening to his outrageous rants and biting comments, most of which I agree with.
As the night settled in, a large group of us gathered around to play Apples to Apples, a game in which everyone has five cards which conatin nouns, such as "Detroit, Mars, Anne Boleyn, The Philadelphia 76'ers, and Infants". Then one player gets an adjective card, such as "Respectful". Each player then picks which card in their hand they think the player holding the adjective card thinks most represents that adjective. That player then gets to pick which noun he likes best for his adjective. It sounds straightforward, but it's a wonderful game that really brings out people's individual senses of humor. My favorite (okay, the only one I can remember), is I voted Nicholas Cage as the most "Christy" submission I was given. (Christy was not a card, but what came about when I was passed a "Create Your Own Category" card on my first turn and proclaimed "Jesus Christ... I don't know. Jesus Christ.")
During a break in the action an argument kicked up between a woman whom I don't know well and Raucous. I wish I knew how it started, but to summarize, this woman, an adult near age 30, who seemed an intelligent person otherwise, thinks, honestly, that when Black people wash their skin with white fabric, that they turn the fabric black. At first I thought she was joking, but she dizzied me with this gem: "It's not their skin, it's the different oils on their skin, and it's the oils that turn the washcloth black." Raucous fought valiently in the name of common sense, but nothing short of having an actual person with dark complexion wash with a white cloth for all to see would sway her from her misguided notions. "That's why they don't like to go swimming!"
At which someone brilliantly cleared the awkwardness with a nerd stirring a capella rendition of "Racist Friend".
(Track 6 off the album Flood by They Might Be Giants, 1990.)
Our contribution was a pumpkin roll, one of six I helped D.M.H. make. I'm glad she set one aside for the party, as I would hate to have to pick out one leftover and bring it, thus breaking up the "Thanksgiving Set". Thanksgiving isn't about the Turkey. It's about the synergism of all the holiday dinner components.
I'm never using the word synergism to describe anything food related again. You know why.
This party was a get together for people who knew each other in high school, and the people some of those people met in college. I was very excited to see some of them, The Big E in particular. See, The Big E and Easycheese were in my Spanish class my freshmen year of high school. Now, myself, I liked Star Trek. I liked They Might Be Giants. I spent most of my time with my computer. I was, what you might say, a nerd. Being a freshmen, I was still feeling out my place in the ambient social hierarchies. The Big E and Easycheese were both upperclassmen, and they were "nerds" as well. With them, I was able to delight in and celebrate oddities and absurdities everyone else was too cool or too distracted to get. They made it "okay" to be a "nerd", and I am forever indebted to them for that.
Also at the party was Raucous P. L. B. Filibuster. Raucous is brash, loud, forward to the point of being borderline rude, and just a damn good time. He also was an upperclassmen I knew from high school, and I still can't put my finger on why we get along. I don't even know that we do. Maybe I just enjoy listening to his outrageous rants and biting comments, most of which I agree with.
As the night settled in, a large group of us gathered around to play Apples to Apples, a game in which everyone has five cards which conatin nouns, such as "Detroit, Mars, Anne Boleyn, The Philadelphia 76'ers, and Infants". Then one player gets an adjective card, such as "Respectful". Each player then picks which card in their hand they think the player holding the adjective card thinks most represents that adjective. That player then gets to pick which noun he likes best for his adjective. It sounds straightforward, but it's a wonderful game that really brings out people's individual senses of humor. My favorite (okay, the only one I can remember), is I voted Nicholas Cage as the most "Christy" submission I was given. (Christy was not a card, but what came about when I was passed a "Create Your Own Category" card on my first turn and proclaimed "Jesus Christ... I don't know. Jesus Christ.")
During a break in the action an argument kicked up between a woman whom I don't know well and Raucous. I wish I knew how it started, but to summarize, this woman, an adult near age 30, who seemed an intelligent person otherwise, thinks, honestly, that when Black people wash their skin with white fabric, that they turn the fabric black. At first I thought she was joking, but she dizzied me with this gem: "It's not their skin, it's the different oils on their skin, and it's the oils that turn the washcloth black." Raucous fought valiently in the name of common sense, but nothing short of having an actual person with dark complexion wash with a white cloth for all to see would sway her from her misguided notions. "That's why they don't like to go swimming!"
At which someone brilliantly cleared the awkwardness with a nerd stirring a capella rendition of "Racist Friend".
(Track 6 off the album Flood by They Might Be Giants, 1990.)
Impulse Buys, Gift Envy
Tomorrow is Dark Mistress Hawthorne's Birthday, and this morning I needed to run to the store to get one of her gifts. Unfortunately I slept late, which meant I had to scramble to get a plan together so I could make the store and make it home in time to make it to work.
I'm usually fairly immune to impulse buying, but occasionally the constant repression of my consumerist instincts results in a momentary lack of thriftiness. Today it took the form in a cat toy,
a poster frame,
and candy canes!
I know that Tarantino posters are so undergrad, but... fuck you, doubting internal monologue.
On a related note, my presents for D. M. H. are truly awful. I will let you know what they were later (she might be listening). Seriously, this is just about the worst birthday gift I think I've given. It wasn't so much a lack of time, but a lack of mental energy and clarity that left me in a lurch. I must redeem myself at Christmas.
A few questions remain: is mentioning this a calculated attempt at mitigating my girlfriend's expectations while garnering a modicum of sympathy? Perhaps. Will she still be my girlfriend come Friday? Probably. Will I try harder next time? Yeah, I think so. Will Starbuck help me wrap the presents? If by help, you mean be a colossal but cute pain in the ass, then definitely.
I'm usually fairly immune to impulse buying, but occasionally the constant repression of my consumerist instincts results in a momentary lack of thriftiness. Today it took the form in a cat toy,
a poster frame,
and candy canes!
I know that Tarantino posters are so undergrad, but... fuck you, doubting internal monologue.
On a related note, my presents for D. M. H. are truly awful. I will let you know what they were later (she might be listening). Seriously, this is just about the worst birthday gift I think I've given. It wasn't so much a lack of time, but a lack of mental energy and clarity that left me in a lurch. I must redeem myself at Christmas.
A few questions remain: is mentioning this a calculated attempt at mitigating my girlfriend's expectations while garnering a modicum of sympathy? Perhaps. Will she still be my girlfriend come Friday? Probably. Will I try harder next time? Yeah, I think so. Will Starbuck help me wrap the presents? If by help, you mean be a colossal but cute pain in the ass, then definitely.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Like Sand Through My Fingers
I've not posted in two weeks because it's been a crazy two weeks. Not overly crazy mind you, but it was the holidays and all. Here's a bullet point style of what I've been up to.
PRE HOLIDAYS
I think it was Monday before Thanksgiving I decided to finally make cookies. I say finally because a year ago at least mom bought me chocolate chips, Reese's Pieces... chips, and Heath Bar chips. Though chocolate chip will always be my favorite, I went with Heath out of curiosity. The recipe was mostly peanut butter and lard, and I don't have an electric mixer. Just this little hand job. Wait. That doesn't sound right.
I figured I'd suck it up and do it like in the old days and all. How did people make cookies before electricity, right? It was so freaking hard to turn that handle that the mixer actually skipped a gear. This caused me to test it out of the bowl, which of course sent peanut butter batter everywhichwhere, evoking one or two childhood memories at least.
In the end though, I came out with a batch of cookies that were delicious. Out of the oven, at least. At room temperature, they were mediocre at best. I took some to the Dark Mistress's house for her and her roomie, and I took some home for my folks. I visited my folks yesterday and there was still one cookie left. I of course must face truth: if folk do not eat your cookies in two weeks time, they simply do not inspire.
HOLIFRICKANDAYS
I decided at mom's suggestion to take Starbuck to Thanksgiving with me. I was worried how she'd get along with Big Orange/Bad Puddy/Bad Boy/Hobbes/my parents' cat. His big and mellow (except around children) and was nothing but curious about Starbuck. Starbuck, whether it was because she was still in the cone or just being in new territory, did nothing but hiss. All in all there were no problems though.
I got into town early to see the old high school rivalry football game with some high school friends. I'm not huge into football but it was an exciting game. Plus I ran into a kid I used to be close friends with back in grade school, and it turns out he lives twenty minutes from me. We exchanged numbers, and I can't wait to catch up with him.
THE LONG WEEKEND
The day after Thanksgiving I took Starbuck in to get her stitches out, but unfortunately they said she wasn't as "closed up inside" as they'd like, so it was back home with a couple of staples, some antibiotics, and another week of the cone.
She got good at managing with the cone, so I let her have reign of the house. They gave me treats to wrap her pills in, but that only worked once, so I had to learn how to pill her the good old fashion "this is for your own good" way. (For those wondering, that is to say I cradle her in my lap, hold her jaw open with one hand, and drop the pill at the back of her throat with the other.) For being such a spitfire, she's also a real good sport.
I generally avoid anything Black Friday, but I saw one deal I couldn't pass up: 5'x7.5' area carpets for $24. Granted, there were only three patterns to choose from, but they were all better than monotone.
Saturday my old friends Bennington and Funk stopped by. (Bennington and I have known each other since we were wee, and Funk is her husband.) It was a surprise visit, and we ended up going out to dinner. Also, they were the first to sign my guest book/type writer, which I suppose makes it official.
Sunday I celebrated my birthday, though it wasn't my birthday, with the Mistress, my folks, and my folks' folks. For the most part, it was good times. I came into some money, which I decided I will hide so I won't use it to pay the bills. It will instead go towards the "I want an electric guitar" fund. Because I want an electric guitar.
Monday it was to Spanky and Zanzibar's house to meet up with Stankfoot and play some hockey and Warhammer. It was fantastic.
BACK TO WORK
Going back to work was harsh. I had early meetings all week and had to stay late a lot. Not much free time. That's all there is to say.
Tuesday I had plans to get lunch with the, uh, Templetons. They're both former creative writing professors of mine, and without going into great detail, know that they've influenced me a great deal. I've decided that I don't want to keep working my job, but I don't want to cut without a plan. I'd like to go back to school, but I don't know for what. Every time I make up my mind, I find myself discouraged a few months later by tales of what comes after. I went to college from high school because that's what I was supposed to do. I studied philosophy because that's what engaged me. I want to go to school again because I want to be working on and towards something that's enriching and engaging, but I'm not going to just wing it. If I go, I want to know for what and why.
I want to get the Templetons' perspectives on creative writing, MAs and MFAs, teaching, and the like. Unfortunately, they stood me up, so ?.
Also, Tuesday I bought a toy:
I've always wanted one. I used to set up labs of these for the high school as a summer job. I don't have cable, and I don't have any televisions. But for $20 I have an old computer with a DVD player in it that sits nicely right in front of my couch.
All week I was obsessed with the notion of installing Linux or BSD on it. Why? I'm glad you asked. The iMac I bought comes with OS 9, which is kind of old. Browsing the internet with it sucks, because it doesn't run any modern browsers nicely. With Linux or BSD, I could install free, modern, and more secure applications. But, mostly, it's because I want to prove I can.
Sometime during the week I also tricked out the coffee table so there wouldn't be a mess'o'wire underneath. Eye hooks to the rescue!
Wednesday I was late for a very important meeting. Like, thirty minutes in front of everyone on our staff late. To a workshop. But I was late for the best of reasons, I reckon. Just as I was about to leave, my neighbor, Mrs. Fussnpuss knocked. Her toilet was running and she couldn't stop it. While my father pointed out that'll make it hard to go to the bathroom, the fact of the matter was it was wasting a lot of water and would have continued to do so had I not poked around in there. The culprit? A strange mineral build up that kept her flapper from sealing.
He he.
And Friday Starbuck returned to the vet to get her staples out. She's back to her old self again, minus some ovaries, plus a gross scar.
Tonight
Today was the first, legit "me" day I've had since... I dunno. Stankfoot and I hit the Bell early, and afterwards I began doing the things I do. To be honest, I don't remember what all I did and in what order, but here's a short list: washed sheets and blankets, did a load of dishes, took all the boxes and crap in the living room to other rooms to be organized and unpacked (finally), unrolled new carpet 2, re-arranged some of the living room, drained the hose and shut off the water leading to the outdoor faucet, vacuumed living room, decorated my tree (tree courtesy of a Grandma, lights courtesy of mom, bells courtesy of D. M. Hawthorne),...
... rescued a sweet Medusa lamp from the basement, hung mirrors in the hallway, and hung a couple posters. The living room looks, well, respectable.
Like someone actually lives here.
Oh, and the cherry on top:
Who kicks ass? I kick ass! Well, maybe just a little. I almost can't believe it works. How well, we shall yet see.
PRE HOLIDAYS
I think it was Monday before Thanksgiving I decided to finally make cookies. I say finally because a year ago at least mom bought me chocolate chips, Reese's Pieces... chips, and Heath Bar chips. Though chocolate chip will always be my favorite, I went with Heath out of curiosity. The recipe was mostly peanut butter and lard, and I don't have an electric mixer. Just this little hand job. Wait. That doesn't sound right.
I figured I'd suck it up and do it like in the old days and all. How did people make cookies before electricity, right? It was so freaking hard to turn that handle that the mixer actually skipped a gear. This caused me to test it out of the bowl, which of course sent peanut butter batter everywhichwhere, evoking one or two childhood memories at least.
In the end though, I came out with a batch of cookies that were delicious. Out of the oven, at least. At room temperature, they were mediocre at best. I took some to the Dark Mistress's house for her and her roomie, and I took some home for my folks. I visited my folks yesterday and there was still one cookie left. I of course must face truth: if folk do not eat your cookies in two weeks time, they simply do not inspire.
HOLIFRICKANDAYS
I decided at mom's suggestion to take Starbuck to Thanksgiving with me. I was worried how she'd get along with Big Orange/Bad Puddy/Bad Boy/Hobbes/my parents' cat. His big and mellow (except around children) and was nothing but curious about Starbuck. Starbuck, whether it was because she was still in the cone or just being in new territory, did nothing but hiss. All in all there were no problems though.
I got into town early to see the old high school rivalry football game with some high school friends. I'm not huge into football but it was an exciting game. Plus I ran into a kid I used to be close friends with back in grade school, and it turns out he lives twenty minutes from me. We exchanged numbers, and I can't wait to catch up with him.
THE LONG WEEKEND
The day after Thanksgiving I took Starbuck in to get her stitches out, but unfortunately they said she wasn't as "closed up inside" as they'd like, so it was back home with a couple of staples, some antibiotics, and another week of the cone.
She got good at managing with the cone, so I let her have reign of the house. They gave me treats to wrap her pills in, but that only worked once, so I had to learn how to pill her the good old fashion "this is for your own good" way. (For those wondering, that is to say I cradle her in my lap, hold her jaw open with one hand, and drop the pill at the back of her throat with the other.) For being such a spitfire, she's also a real good sport.
I generally avoid anything Black Friday, but I saw one deal I couldn't pass up: 5'x7.5' area carpets for $24. Granted, there were only three patterns to choose from, but they were all better than monotone.
Saturday my old friends Bennington and Funk stopped by. (Bennington and I have known each other since we were wee, and Funk is her husband.) It was a surprise visit, and we ended up going out to dinner. Also, they were the first to sign my guest book/type writer, which I suppose makes it official.
Sunday I celebrated my birthday, though it wasn't my birthday, with the Mistress, my folks, and my folks' folks. For the most part, it was good times. I came into some money, which I decided I will hide so I won't use it to pay the bills. It will instead go towards the "I want an electric guitar" fund. Because I want an electric guitar.
Monday it was to Spanky and Zanzibar's house to meet up with Stankfoot and play some hockey and Warhammer. It was fantastic.
BACK TO WORK
Going back to work was harsh. I had early meetings all week and had to stay late a lot. Not much free time. That's all there is to say.
Tuesday I had plans to get lunch with the, uh, Templetons. They're both former creative writing professors of mine, and without going into great detail, know that they've influenced me a great deal. I've decided that I don't want to keep working my job, but I don't want to cut without a plan. I'd like to go back to school, but I don't know for what. Every time I make up my mind, I find myself discouraged a few months later by tales of what comes after. I went to college from high school because that's what I was supposed to do. I studied philosophy because that's what engaged me. I want to go to school again because I want to be working on and towards something that's enriching and engaging, but I'm not going to just wing it. If I go, I want to know for what and why.
I want to get the Templetons' perspectives on creative writing, MAs and MFAs, teaching, and the like. Unfortunately, they stood me up, so ?.
Also, Tuesday I bought a toy:
I've always wanted one. I used to set up labs of these for the high school as a summer job. I don't have cable, and I don't have any televisions. But for $20 I have an old computer with a DVD player in it that sits nicely right in front of my couch.
All week I was obsessed with the notion of installing Linux or BSD on it. Why? I'm glad you asked. The iMac I bought comes with OS 9, which is kind of old. Browsing the internet with it sucks, because it doesn't run any modern browsers nicely. With Linux or BSD, I could install free, modern, and more secure applications. But, mostly, it's because I want to prove I can.
Sometime during the week I also tricked out the coffee table so there wouldn't be a mess'o'wire underneath. Eye hooks to the rescue!
Wednesday I was late for a very important meeting. Like, thirty minutes in front of everyone on our staff late. To a workshop. But I was late for the best of reasons, I reckon. Just as I was about to leave, my neighbor, Mrs. Fussnpuss knocked. Her toilet was running and she couldn't stop it. While my father pointed out that'll make it hard to go to the bathroom, the fact of the matter was it was wasting a lot of water and would have continued to do so had I not poked around in there. The culprit? A strange mineral build up that kept her flapper from sealing.
He he.
And Friday Starbuck returned to the vet to get her staples out. She's back to her old self again, minus some ovaries, plus a gross scar.
Tonight
Today was the first, legit "me" day I've had since... I dunno. Stankfoot and I hit the Bell early, and afterwards I began doing the things I do. To be honest, I don't remember what all I did and in what order, but here's a short list: washed sheets and blankets, did a load of dishes, took all the boxes and crap in the living room to other rooms to be organized and unpacked (finally), unrolled new carpet 2, re-arranged some of the living room, drained the hose and shut off the water leading to the outdoor faucet, vacuumed living room, decorated my tree (tree courtesy of a Grandma, lights courtesy of mom, bells courtesy of D. M. Hawthorne),...
... rescued a sweet Medusa lamp from the basement, hung mirrors in the hallway, and hung a couple posters. The living room looks, well, respectable.
Like someone actually lives here.
Oh, and the cherry on top:
Who kicks ass? I kick ass! Well, maybe just a little. I almost can't believe it works. How well, we shall yet see.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Absurdities in Dream, No. 1: Boogie Vans, Cadillac Man, and My Father, the Jumper.
In the fist of what, depending on the frequency and absurdity of my dreams, will be a continuing series of tales from my subconscious, I present to you Monday morning's dreams.
Of course, what I remember is a merely a tenth of the curiosities that played before me last night. At one point I was looking down on a freeway from a high and distant vantage. In one lane of travel
a continuous line of "boogie" vans approached, each painted wildly and driven straight from a time portal to the 70's. The other lane of travel, however, was empty. Empty, save for one rebellious soul, driving a purple hopped up Cadillac. This thing was set up to drag and kicked all sorts of ass.
All I could think was I want to buy that car.. I debated on this, weighing the cost of the car, which apparently I could afford, against its general asskickery.
Never mind the problem of getting a hold of the owner, since he was driving away and I was up on a cliff or something. After coming very close to deciding I would buy it, I figured against it, as buying new drag racing tires for it would be too expensive.
Flash forward and I'm on the rooftop of a city building. My father has gotten himself some sort of costume with mechanical legs that allows him to jump from roof to roof. He's wearing a simple, stupid red costume that's a cross between a Mexican wrestler's and a Power Ranger's. He's very excited about this whole thing, and lands near me to tell me how awesome it is. I mention something about hurting himself, but he's convinced he's invincible, and goes bounding off. I can see him slipping, tripping, or in some other easy to imagine way, going over the edge of a tall building to his certain demise. All I can do is watch and worry.
Of course, what I remember is a merely a tenth of the curiosities that played before me last night. At one point I was looking down on a freeway from a high and distant vantage. In one lane of travel
a continuous line of "boogie" vans approached, each painted wildly and driven straight from a time portal to the 70's. The other lane of travel, however, was empty. Empty, save for one rebellious soul, driving a purple hopped up Cadillac. This thing was set up to drag and kicked all sorts of ass. All I could think was I want to buy that car.. I debated on this, weighing the cost of the car, which apparently I could afford, against its general asskickery.
Never mind the problem of getting a hold of the owner, since he was driving away and I was up on a cliff or something. After coming very close to deciding I would buy it, I figured against it, as buying new drag racing tires for it would be too expensive.
Flash forward and I'm on the rooftop of a city building. My father has gotten himself some sort of costume with mechanical legs that allows him to jump from roof to roof. He's wearing a simple, stupid red costume that's a cross between a Mexican wrestler's and a Power Ranger's. He's very excited about this whole thing, and lands near me to tell me how awesome it is. I mention something about hurting himself, but he's convinced he's invincible, and goes bounding off. I can see him slipping, tripping, or in some other easy to imagine way, going over the edge of a tall building to his certain demise. All I can do is watch and worry.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Weekendery
As I said, Bixby and The Tzar were in town to visit. Not me specifically, but to make their way around town in general. Friday night, another college friend and former housemate Leggolamb was in town. She was meeting up with friends and wanted to see who was around and if we were interested in going out.
I got out of work early and just in time to welcome Bixby and The Tzar. We got them set up in the attic suite. The were understandably tired and went to bed shortly thereafter. I was feeling bad about leaving Starbuck, and I was feeling tired, so I called up Leggo and declined her offer. Then I poured myself a stiff Soy Russian (because my real milk expired) and watched 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Next day I woke up at noon, missing my company but catching up on much needed sleep I'd gypped myself on all week. Went to work, which sucked almost all around. Got out late, again missing my company. Leggolamb's plans fell through though, so she, Slim Jim, and I stayed up talking for a bit. Then we all went to sleep.
I only slept till 11:30 or so this morning, which again, was glorious. However, I missed the departure of Bixby and The Tzar, which made me feel like a bit of a jerk. If I hadn't stayed up late cleaning all week, I might have seen more of them. But then I'd have been embarrassed about the house.
There's a lesson in here somewhere. Unfortunately the genius of Kubrick is sucking up my reflective energies, so shrugs all around.
When Leggolamb's ride came I saw that it was snowing! The first snow of the year! This always excites me. Way more than it should.
Stankfoot came to town and he, Slim Jim, and I went to Taco Bell and kicked around. It was lovely.
While waiting for Stankfoot, Slim Jim and I tracked down and fixed some electrical gremlins. The light at the top of the basement stairs was out and it wasn't the bulb. Turned out to be a weak wire nut in the box the switch was in. Then, the plug my computer's getting power from has no ground. Plus, it was really touchy. Slim replaced the outlet and we tracked down the open ground to a box in the basement. There were five or six ground wires not really touching each other.
The guy who wired this place wasn't very thorough. As I said, all the smoke alarms have fresh batteries.
The big downer is there's blood on Starbuck's stiches. It could be from when I took her cone off and started biting at them. I stopped her right away but she still got at them a few times. Or, maybe it's from when she was playing and jumping around yesterday. She's getting awful punchy, being so full of energy but confined to one room. If only I had a door to the upstairs or something, so I could at least give her a whole floor.
I can't wait for this to be over and her to be all healed up.
The Dark Mistress just walked in! With a cornbread muffin! She's been away all weekend, helping her friend on a school project. I am off to eat this muffin.
Delicious.
I got out of work early and just in time to welcome Bixby and The Tzar. We got them set up in the attic suite. The were understandably tired and went to bed shortly thereafter. I was feeling bad about leaving Starbuck, and I was feeling tired, so I called up Leggo and declined her offer. Then I poured myself a stiff Soy Russian (because my real milk expired) and watched 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Next day I woke up at noon, missing my company but catching up on much needed sleep I'd gypped myself on all week. Went to work, which sucked almost all around. Got out late, again missing my company. Leggolamb's plans fell through though, so she, Slim Jim, and I stayed up talking for a bit. Then we all went to sleep.
I only slept till 11:30 or so this morning, which again, was glorious. However, I missed the departure of Bixby and The Tzar, which made me feel like a bit of a jerk. If I hadn't stayed up late cleaning all week, I might have seen more of them. But then I'd have been embarrassed about the house.
There's a lesson in here somewhere. Unfortunately the genius of Kubrick is sucking up my reflective energies, so shrugs all around.
When Leggolamb's ride came I saw that it was snowing! The first snow of the year! This always excites me. Way more than it should.
Stankfoot came to town and he, Slim Jim, and I went to Taco Bell and kicked around. It was lovely.
While waiting for Stankfoot, Slim Jim and I tracked down and fixed some electrical gremlins. The light at the top of the basement stairs was out and it wasn't the bulb. Turned out to be a weak wire nut in the box the switch was in. Then, the plug my computer's getting power from has no ground. Plus, it was really touchy. Slim replaced the outlet and we tracked down the open ground to a box in the basement. There were five or six ground wires not really touching each other.
The guy who wired this place wasn't very thorough. As I said, all the smoke alarms have fresh batteries.
The big downer is there's blood on Starbuck's stiches. It could be from when I took her cone off and started biting at them. I stopped her right away but she still got at them a few times. Or, maybe it's from when she was playing and jumping around yesterday. She's getting awful punchy, being so full of energy but confined to one room. If only I had a door to the upstairs or something, so I could at least give her a whole floor.
I can't wait for this to be over and her to be all healed up.
The Dark Mistress just walked in! With a cornbread muffin! She's been away all weekend, helping her friend on a school project. I am off to eat this muffin.
Delicious.
Friday, November 16, 2007
A Post That's Not About My Cat?!
This week I've gone through several stages of tired. If I felt I could rely on my current state of mind, I would classify this list as comprehensive. I've been damn tired. I've been stupid mistakes tired. I've been cranky tired. I've been angry tired. I've been confused tired. I've been hopeless tired. I've been giggly tired.
This weekend my friends Bixby, her boyfriend The Tzar, and Slim Jim will all take up lodging here. Bixby reserved two spaces way back in August. So of course I forgot. Even though I wrote it down in my calendar. It was there, in my brain, in some form or capacity. Certainly not a useful one. It occurred to me in a very real way this Tuesday that I would actually have people in my house this weekend. This necessitated some emergency cleaning like nobody's dirty business.
So Tuesday I was up until 2:30 after work cleaning the bathroom, which I haven't done since I moved in. Wednesday I put in 15 hours, so I didn't do much of anything house related. Yesterday was laundry, and this morning was more laundry, straightening up my creativity room, sweeping the creativity room, installing new batteries in all the smoke alarms, straightening up the living room, vacuuming the living room, vacuuming the upstairs hall and stairs, doing dishes, making two chicken, cheddar cheese, mayo, and Cholula burritos, eating two chicken, cheddar cheese, mayo, and Cholula burritos, and petting my cat.
It was a very stressful week. What's nice though is when people visit, it's like a kick in the ass to get all these I've wanted to do done. Check it out: for the first time since moving in, I have an honest to god living room:
Also, I finally set up something I've wanted to have since I knew I was moving here:
This weekend my friends Bixby, her boyfriend The Tzar, and Slim Jim will all take up lodging here. Bixby reserved two spaces way back in August. So of course I forgot. Even though I wrote it down in my calendar. It was there, in my brain, in some form or capacity. Certainly not a useful one. It occurred to me in a very real way this Tuesday that I would actually have people in my house this weekend. This necessitated some emergency cleaning like nobody's dirty business.
So Tuesday I was up until 2:30 after work cleaning the bathroom, which I haven't done since I moved in. Wednesday I put in 15 hours, so I didn't do much of anything house related. Yesterday was laundry, and this morning was more laundry, straightening up my creativity room, sweeping the creativity room, installing new batteries in all the smoke alarms, straightening up the living room, vacuuming the living room, vacuuming the upstairs hall and stairs, doing dishes, making two chicken, cheddar cheese, mayo, and Cholula burritos, eating two chicken, cheddar cheese, mayo, and Cholula burritos, and petting my cat.
It was a very stressful week. What's nice though is when people visit, it's like a kick in the ass to get all these I've wanted to do done. Check it out: for the first time since moving in, I have an honest to god living room:
Also, I finally set up something I've wanted to have since I knew I was moving here:
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Kitty Pity Pics
As promised.
She actually doesn't look all that pitiful.
Quite dignified, actually. She must be feeling much better.
She actually doesn't look all that pitiful.
Quite dignified, actually. She must be feeling much better.
I jinxed her
Starbuck now has a beautiful plastic cat bonnet. Watching her struggle around the room, bumping her cone into everything, then watching her flail to try to get it off was torture and kept me up past three. She seemed fine with it at first. Lying in a blanket right beside my mattress, she put up no resistance when I put it on. We even got to play just after. She kept staring at me with what looked to be her disembodied head while she'd lazily paw at the blanket I dangled in front of her. It was heart breaking but cute. Then came the moment when she realized that this cone was actually attached firmly to her. Kind of like that moment when folks first realize that mortality has a bead on them it's never going to loose, she freaked out a bit. But physically instead of existentially.
Well, who knows. Maybe existentially too. Maybe this was a watershed moment. Maybe it came to her in a flash: Hey, this guy's just fucking with me! What am I doing in this house? Why can't I ever get out?
I'll never know though as she hasn't been talking to me. Starbuck was always very conversational. She had inquisitive mews, assertive mews, WTF mews. She meowed during natural pauses in my monologue, and I always answered, pretending she said what the conflicting viewpoint in my head would have said.
You know, I would hate to see myself someday having to make a case for my sanity while a doctor holds a printout of the above in his/her hand.
I felt like a big softy, but the house felt very empty while Starbuck was at the vet yesterday. Very quiet, with no one to answer my once, and again, rhetorical questions. When I brought her home last night, the silence continued. It was just this morning that I got my first peep out of her, and it was wonderful to hear her voice again. I hope this whole experience doesn't leave her quiet and introspective. There need be only one fellow in the house like that.
I'd understand though, as the cage doesn't exist until we posit it as one, and that can be an unsettling realization. No amount of me telling her it's for her own good that I keep her inside could ever convince her otherwise. Maybe from now on she'll be my little Andy Dufresne.
I promise some kitty pity pictures later. For now, there's work to be done, and oatmeal to be eaten.
Well, who knows. Maybe existentially too. Maybe this was a watershed moment. Maybe it came to her in a flash: Hey, this guy's just fucking with me! What am I doing in this house? Why can't I ever get out?
I'll never know though as she hasn't been talking to me. Starbuck was always very conversational. She had inquisitive mews, assertive mews, WTF mews. She meowed during natural pauses in my monologue, and I always answered, pretending she said what the conflicting viewpoint in my head would have said.
You know, I would hate to see myself someday having to make a case for my sanity while a doctor holds a printout of the above in his/her hand.
I felt like a big softy, but the house felt very empty while Starbuck was at the vet yesterday. Very quiet, with no one to answer my once, and again, rhetorical questions. When I brought her home last night, the silence continued. It was just this morning that I got my first peep out of her, and it was wonderful to hear her voice again. I hope this whole experience doesn't leave her quiet and introspective. There need be only one fellow in the house like that.
I'd understand though, as the cage doesn't exist until we posit it as one, and that can be an unsettling realization. No amount of me telling her it's for her own good that I keep her inside could ever convince her otherwise. Maybe from now on she'll be my little Andy Dufresne.
I promise some kitty pity pictures later. For now, there's work to be done, and oatmeal to be eaten.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Big Day for Starbuck
This weekend almost felt like a holiday, considering last weekend I only had one day off, and I felt lucky to get even that. Plus, this week is the last full week until Thanksgiving Break, and that means good things for everyone. And by everyone I mean me, because I'm like that.
Saturday saw a productive day at work, which always feels great. Sunday the Mistress and I continued our mission to cross educate each other on our favorite shows. She's currently showing me the second season of The Office and the first/last season of Freaks and Geeks. I've got her a third of the way through season one of Battlestar Galactica. Then we visited my folks and our friends Bozzie and Mudskipper.
Then there's today. Today was to be my day. I'd been looking forward to it all week. My plans were insane in scope: I figured I could reorganize the entire kitchen, rearrange my bedrooms, reclaim my entire living room, or perhaps all three if I were focused enough. Really though, I was afforded this day because I had to stay in town, as today was the day Starbuck got her itty bitty kitty bits snipped.
I knew I was going to hit Taco Bell with my good friend Stankfoot, but after that, the day was wide open. Project one was setting up the 5.1 system I was gifted (thanks Stank). This involved running wires across the room via the drop tile ceiling, which was messy and tedious. I have been rewarded, however, with the aural fruits of six speaker sound first time in my life.
After that I ran some boxes down to the basement (other people's crap that was taking up space), then it was off to pick up Starbuck.
She was an ornery cuss, hissing at everyone except me from behind the slits of her carrier. I was comforting her when I got my shock: the bill was $336.
Now, I was expecting at least $150. And I was prepared for maybe $200. But I wanted to cry when I heard $336. I'm not exaggerating. I didn't know how to react, except to give the young lady my credit card, because I couldn't afford to take that out of my account.
I ran my credit card up when I was unemployed, and I've been struggling to pay it off ever since. I was damn this summer I could taste it until some shit went down with my old house, which I had to put on my card because I couldn't afford it. This vet bill more than doubles what I had left on my one card, which may not sound like a lot, but to me it is. I get paid once a month on the first. I have to guess how tight I'll be for the month in order to decide how much to put towards my cards because they are both due early in the month. On months I know I have a bit more leniency I put $100 towards each, which leaves me with a couple hundred after bills for gas and groceries for the month. Not having that burden would be such a relief, and I think I'm going to have a stiff drink to celebrate the day it happens. If it ever does happen.
But back to Starbuck, who had some real problems, having been cut open and what not. She was still obviously very sedated when I let her out of her carrier, as her whole rear end would list to one side or the other as she tried to walk a straight line. In addition to failing her roadside, she couldn't manage to cover her waste when going to the litter box. What she was good at doing, though, was licking at her sutures. No amount of yelling, clapping, or pulling her head away was persuading her. It was 7:57, the vet closed at 8, and I was on the phone asking if I could run over to get a cone. They stayed to give me one (though it was only 8:05 when I got there), but when I got home to put it on her, she was about to have a nap. I hope I don't have to use it. I don't want her to end up like this poor soul:
The rest of the night Starbuck slept and I set upon the kitchen with the fury of a madman so that I might have something to feel good about before I sleep tonight. I didn't get as far as I thought I could. I certainly didn't turn the whole thing out, but I did make a bit of progress though, and I think by the end of the week, if I'm diligent, I may be able to claim this kitchen as my own. I already reclaimed the posting area. This used to be covered with postcards and notes from past tenants/friends:
The numbers are calendar dates. When I get a bill, I plan on sticking it up there under the approximate time of month it's due, thus raising my awareness of when I gotta pay the man. This should be an improvement over my current I should check what's collected under my keyboard method. Yes, I know it's off center, but I didn't have scissors or tape, and I was on the phone when I made it.
Saturday saw a productive day at work, which always feels great. Sunday the Mistress and I continued our mission to cross educate each other on our favorite shows. She's currently showing me the second season of The Office and the first/last season of Freaks and Geeks. I've got her a third of the way through season one of Battlestar Galactica. Then we visited my folks and our friends Bozzie and Mudskipper.
Then there's today. Today was to be my day. I'd been looking forward to it all week. My plans were insane in scope: I figured I could reorganize the entire kitchen, rearrange my bedrooms, reclaim my entire living room, or perhaps all three if I were focused enough. Really though, I was afforded this day because I had to stay in town, as today was the day Starbuck got her itty bitty kitty bits snipped.
I knew I was going to hit Taco Bell with my good friend Stankfoot, but after that, the day was wide open. Project one was setting up the 5.1 system I was gifted (thanks Stank). This involved running wires across the room via the drop tile ceiling, which was messy and tedious. I have been rewarded, however, with the aural fruits of six speaker sound first time in my life.After that I ran some boxes down to the basement (other people's crap that was taking up space), then it was off to pick up Starbuck.
She was an ornery cuss, hissing at everyone except me from behind the slits of her carrier. I was comforting her when I got my shock: the bill was $336.
Now, I was expecting at least $150. And I was prepared for maybe $200. But I wanted to cry when I heard $336. I'm not exaggerating. I didn't know how to react, except to give the young lady my credit card, because I couldn't afford to take that out of my account.
I ran my credit card up when I was unemployed, and I've been struggling to pay it off ever since. I was damn this summer I could taste it until some shit went down with my old house, which I had to put on my card because I couldn't afford it. This vet bill more than doubles what I had left on my one card, which may not sound like a lot, but to me it is. I get paid once a month on the first. I have to guess how tight I'll be for the month in order to decide how much to put towards my cards because they are both due early in the month. On months I know I have a bit more leniency I put $100 towards each, which leaves me with a couple hundred after bills for gas and groceries for the month. Not having that burden would be such a relief, and I think I'm going to have a stiff drink to celebrate the day it happens. If it ever does happen.
But back to Starbuck, who had some real problems, having been cut open and what not. She was still obviously very sedated when I let her out of her carrier, as her whole rear end would list to one side or the other as she tried to walk a straight line. In addition to failing her roadside, she couldn't manage to cover her waste when going to the litter box. What she was good at doing, though, was licking at her sutures. No amount of yelling, clapping, or pulling her head away was persuading her. It was 7:57, the vet closed at 8, and I was on the phone asking if I could run over to get a cone. They stayed to give me one (though it was only 8:05 when I got there), but when I got home to put it on her, she was about to have a nap. I hope I don't have to use it. I don't want her to end up like this poor soul:
The rest of the night Starbuck slept and I set upon the kitchen with the fury of a madman so that I might have something to feel good about before I sleep tonight. I didn't get as far as I thought I could. I certainly didn't turn the whole thing out, but I did make a bit of progress though, and I think by the end of the week, if I'm diligent, I may be able to claim this kitchen as my own. I already reclaimed the posting area. This used to be covered with postcards and notes from past tenants/friends:
The numbers are calendar dates. When I get a bill, I plan on sticking it up there under the approximate time of month it's due, thus raising my awareness of when I gotta pay the man. This should be an improvement over my current I should check what's collected under my keyboard method. Yes, I know it's off center, but I didn't have scissors or tape, and I was on the phone when I made it.
Friday, November 09, 2007
What Do I Know About Partying or Anything?
I suppose the first post ought be a statement of intent. Why a blog? Why now?
It's been terrible at keeping up with friends and family lately. I figured this would be an easy way to let them know I'm still alive That's pretty much it.
So, family, friends, what have I been up to?
Little background: the latest era of my life consists of me living in a new town, alone, for the first time in my life. This started back around July/August. It was a hectic time, with me being busy/out of the state one third of the month of July. My plan was this: move all I could in July, finish up in August, and be set to live the way I want starting in September.
That "living the way I want" part involved time to play, write, and possibly record music, and time to read and write prose and poetry. I recently discovered how important these things are to me, and decided that, for me, a life without them is a life not worth living. Not at the moment, anyway.
Two things changed those plans: the house, and the lady friend. In August, I started dating/going out/whatever label makes sense, with a wonderful young woman we'll name, for the sake of e-anonymity, Dark Mistress Hawthorne. I hadn't dated in three years and I hadn't been in a relationship for four, so I feel a bit unsettled in how natural it's felt as I now reflect on it. You'll be hearing more about her, but what's to note is, while I don't regret time spent with her one bit, time spent with her isn't time spent alone, and time spent alone is the only time I can create. In short, she wasn't a part of the plan.
Thing two is the monster of a project that is my house. For those not in the know on my deal, one of my best friends from college, whom I shall call from here out Slim Jim, bought a house on the cheap from the county. It was a mess when he bought it. He cleaned it up, made it livable, and started renting to students in the area. He soon grew tired of being an enforcer when it came to cash, so he offered me a sweet deal on living there. The rent is below what I'd pay for similar in the area, and it's a whole four bedroom one bath half duplex, all to my damn self. I jumped all over it.
Part of the deal turned out that I inherited a house of other people's crap. This is both good and bad. I inherited a fancy Cuisinart coffee maker, an assortment of teas and canned goods, moth infested rice, a basement full of wet clothes and sweet ass power tools (the tools are all Slim Jim's, but I have his blessing to use them), two irons (look ma, both hands!), more pots and pans than I can shake two irons at (because irons are heavy), and... let's just say it's a lot.
I never had the chance to really move in and make the space my own from the get go. Instead, I've adapted to living off of what others left behind, filling in with my stuff when necessary. I've felt a bit like a long term squatter, and in all but the three bedrooms I've cleaned out, there are remainders everywhere of the lives once lived in this house.
What do I still have left to do? I have a living room full of boxes that need to get put away. I have a kitchen full of random kitchen... stuff that needs to be organized. I'm talking, pull everything out of every cupboard, keep or throw it, then reorganize. Those are really the last two big projects, but they're humdingers.
So when do I get to do all of this? A normal work week for me is Tuesday through Saturday, 2pm-11pm. My sleep schedule, ideally, is 12am-8am, and in practice, 2 or 3am - 9 or 10am. This means the majority of my free time is in the morning, before work. I planned it this way because every other week I have meetings at 10am. If I got up at 1pm for work at 2, and stayed up into the morning, I would probably get more done, a 10am meeting would be equivalent to a meeting at 4am for someone who went to work at 8. Imagine that, would you?
Friday and Saturday nights Dark Mistress Hawthorne keeps me company, staying in through the morning. Sundays we usually hang out, visit people, go on trips, or hit animals with her car. Not on purpose. Mondays she goes to work, and I usually visit my friends and family in my hometown. Finally, one day a week I'll usually go visit the residence of Dark Mistress Hawthorne. This means all my unassigned free time really takes place from when I wake up to when I go to work, three days out of the week. Unless, of course, I have one of those meetings that happens every other week. Then it's only two days.
What do I do with that time? Assuming I wake at 8am, (It's happened!), I get up, entertain Starbuck (my cat), make some tea, and go work on something creative until 11am. At 11, or if I'm truly stuck, I begin working on something productive around the house. For example: today I put weather stripping around the back door, which was leaking like a cheesecloth balloon. If I have to cook something to eat for the week (I pack my dinners), I do so at Noon. Otherwise I keep working. At 1 is when I have to start getting ready for work, though sometimes I slack and get involved in a video game for a half hour or so, causing me to rush in a frenzy.
I'm not sure why, but in all this, I've felt a little stressed and worn thin. I wish I had more time to spend with the lady, with my writing, and with my cat. Not to mention my folks and my friends. But, for now, this is what it is, I am what I am, you are what you are, and tautologies remain an excellent method ending conversations in a fatalistic, yet positive tone.
It's been terrible at keeping up with friends and family lately. I figured this would be an easy way to let them know I'm still alive That's pretty much it.
So, family, friends, what have I been up to?
Little background: the latest era of my life consists of me living in a new town, alone, for the first time in my life. This started back around July/August. It was a hectic time, with me being busy/out of the state one third of the month of July. My plan was this: move all I could in July, finish up in August, and be set to live the way I want starting in September.
That "living the way I want" part involved time to play, write, and possibly record music, and time to read and write prose and poetry. I recently discovered how important these things are to me, and decided that, for me, a life without them is a life not worth living. Not at the moment, anyway.
Two things changed those plans: the house, and the lady friend. In August, I started dating/going out/whatever label makes sense, with a wonderful young woman we'll name, for the sake of e-anonymity, Dark Mistress Hawthorne. I hadn't dated in three years and I hadn't been in a relationship for four, so I feel a bit unsettled in how natural it's felt as I now reflect on it. You'll be hearing more about her, but what's to note is, while I don't regret time spent with her one bit, time spent with her isn't time spent alone, and time spent alone is the only time I can create. In short, she wasn't a part of the plan.
Thing two is the monster of a project that is my house. For those not in the know on my deal, one of my best friends from college, whom I shall call from here out Slim Jim, bought a house on the cheap from the county. It was a mess when he bought it. He cleaned it up, made it livable, and started renting to students in the area. He soon grew tired of being an enforcer when it came to cash, so he offered me a sweet deal on living there. The rent is below what I'd pay for similar in the area, and it's a whole four bedroom one bath half duplex, all to my damn self. I jumped all over it.
Part of the deal turned out that I inherited a house of other people's crap. This is both good and bad. I inherited a fancy Cuisinart coffee maker, an assortment of teas and canned goods, moth infested rice, a basement full of wet clothes and sweet ass power tools (the tools are all Slim Jim's, but I have his blessing to use them), two irons (look ma, both hands!), more pots and pans than I can shake two irons at (because irons are heavy), and... let's just say it's a lot.
I never had the chance to really move in and make the space my own from the get go. Instead, I've adapted to living off of what others left behind, filling in with my stuff when necessary. I've felt a bit like a long term squatter, and in all but the three bedrooms I've cleaned out, there are remainders everywhere of the lives once lived in this house.
What do I still have left to do? I have a living room full of boxes that need to get put away. I have a kitchen full of random kitchen... stuff that needs to be organized. I'm talking, pull everything out of every cupboard, keep or throw it, then reorganize. Those are really the last two big projects, but they're humdingers.
So when do I get to do all of this? A normal work week for me is Tuesday through Saturday, 2pm-11pm. My sleep schedule, ideally, is 12am-8am, and in practice, 2 or 3am - 9 or 10am. This means the majority of my free time is in the morning, before work. I planned it this way because every other week I have meetings at 10am. If I got up at 1pm for work at 2, and stayed up into the morning, I would probably get more done, a 10am meeting would be equivalent to a meeting at 4am for someone who went to work at 8. Imagine that, would you?
Friday and Saturday nights Dark Mistress Hawthorne keeps me company, staying in through the morning. Sundays we usually hang out, visit people, go on trips, or hit animals with her car. Not on purpose. Mondays she goes to work, and I usually visit my friends and family in my hometown. Finally, one day a week I'll usually go visit the residence of Dark Mistress Hawthorne. This means all my unassigned free time really takes place from when I wake up to when I go to work, three days out of the week. Unless, of course, I have one of those meetings that happens every other week. Then it's only two days.
What do I do with that time? Assuming I wake at 8am, (It's happened!), I get up, entertain Starbuck (my cat), make some tea, and go work on something creative until 11am. At 11, or if I'm truly stuck, I begin working on something productive around the house. For example: today I put weather stripping around the back door, which was leaking like a cheesecloth balloon. If I have to cook something to eat for the week (I pack my dinners), I do so at Noon. Otherwise I keep working. At 1 is when I have to start getting ready for work, though sometimes I slack and get involved in a video game for a half hour or so, causing me to rush in a frenzy.
I'm not sure why, but in all this, I've felt a little stressed and worn thin. I wish I had more time to spend with the lady, with my writing, and with my cat. Not to mention my folks and my friends. But, for now, this is what it is, I am what I am, you are what you are, and tautologies remain an excellent method ending conversations in a fatalistic, yet positive tone.
Character Guide
The names of people and places here have been changed in the interest of privacy. Oh, sure, it would take a person maybe five minutes or less to figure out my real name, and internet detectives could make out the rest in due time. I'm not worried about that. I simply don't want a google search of my real name + my work place or my job or my friend's real names to bring people here. It's better for them, it's better for me, and really, it's better for me.
Plus, it's an excuse to make up names for people.
Speaking of which:
hey, remember Character Guide!
In order of appearance:
Dark Mistress Hawthorne
High school friend of Zanzibar, came from her podunk home town to stay with Spanky, Zanzibar, and I back in early 2007. She is a maker of sweet t-shirts, an amateur photographer, a Coen Brothers fan, an animal lover, a mediocre driver, a closeted LiveJournal user, and a wonderful person . Also, she's my girlfriend/cohabitant.
Fact: neither dark, nor a mistress, nor a Hawthorne. Discuss.
Skills:
T-Shirt Makery, General Craft, General Cookery, Advanced Bakery, Advanced Sarcasm
Special Abilities:
*CLASSIFIED*
Modifiers:
___________________________
Slim Jim
College friend and owner of my house. Lives around the DC area. Likes: electronics, computers, dark humor, empathy, inquiry, survival. Dislikes: dishonesty, mathematics, hangovers, social castes.
Skills:
Soldering, General HandiCraft, Survival
Special Abilities:
Intelligent Conversation, ADHD, Vehicular Combustion
Modifiers:
Intelligence +5
___________________________
Auntie L
She and I go way back. She's a wit without match, and can wit anyone under the table without batting an eye. Seriously. She's like the Socrates of wit. Also, she's one of two people who ever comment here, so you probably at least know of her by now.
Skills:
General Knittery, Advanced Letter Writing
Special Abilities:
Razor Wit, Intelligent Conversation
Modifiers:
Intelligence +4
Cooking -5
___________________________
Stankfoot
My fellow Taco Bell aficionado and Battlestar Galactica freak. Also, my right hand Warhammer man. (For the emperor, brother.)
Skills:
General Motorcycling, Advanced Computer Tech
Special Abilities:
Fast Food Grease Resistance, Airbrushing
Modifiers:
___________________________
Bixby
Friend from college, fellow Trekkie, fantasizer of Riker. She, Slim Jim, The Blue Zipper and I lived together for half of every week for half of a summer once. It was rocking good times.
Skills:
Engineering, Debate
Special Abilities:
Line Dancing
Modifiers:
+5 Debate (in the presence of like-minded individuals)
___________________________
The Tzar
Boyfriend to Bixby
Skills:
Unknown
Special Abilities:
Line Dancing, Beard Trimming
Modifiers:
___________________________
Leggolamb
Drinking partner from college who constantly emasculated me. Quoth my father: "You drink like a truck driver's wife." A hoot in general.
Skills:
Advanced Drinking, Debate, Advanced Sarcasm
Special Abilities:
Recognizing issues of Gender and Class inequality
Modifiers:
Liver -5
___________________________
Bennington
Bennington was probably my first friend. I met her when I was two. I can't say I liked her when I was two, because I'm pretty sure my interests were still mostly related to bodily functions and bright colors. Upon reflection, not much has changed.
Though we've led separate paths through life, Bennington and I still remain friends.
Skills:
Teaching
Special Abilities:
Teaching
Modifiers:
Hey, teaching's pretty amazing.
___________________________
Funk
Husband to Bennington. He's my favorite jamming partner, and when he was at his tops, was a hell of a guitarist. We only jammed once though, but it was too fine.
Skills:
Teaching
Special Abilities:
Code Breaking
Modifiers:
___________________________
Mrs. Fussnpuss
Estimated age rage: 78-92. Obsessively cleans every last spec of ice, snow, or garbage from her walk. Though her posture may be bent, her spirit remains strong. (Whatever that means.)
Skills:
Hanging clothes on the line, Trash can moving, Sidewalk cleaning, Lectures on The New Deal, Passive Aggression, Aggressive Aggression, Aggressive... Passion?
Special Abilities:
Fear of "Those" People, Old School Guilt.
Modifiers:
Longevity +70
Charisma -10
___________________________
Spanky
Ska lover, tattoo collector, video game aficionado, friend from the old school days, and former room mate. Only likes meat and cheese on his taco.
Skills: Ranged Weapon Attacks, Selective Information Sharing, Charming Old Folk, Charming Young Folk, Mario Kart.
Special Ability: Really, aren't all his abilities special?
Modifiers:
Charisma +7
___________________________
Zanzibar
Music lover, tattoo collector, culture aficionado, wife of Spanky, and former room mate. Only likes iambic pentameter. Once threw a (toy) piano through a third story window. Exists in one or more of the three states: tired, cold, or hungry.
Skills: Debate, Multitasking, Mario Party
Special Ability: Facial expression manipulation.
Modifiers:
Cred: +5
___________________________
The Templetons
My creative writing professors from college. I don't know much about them personally, but they seem to be fairly swell people, even if they are a bit hard to get in touch with.
Skills:
Teaching
Special Abilities:
?
Modifiers:
Wow, I'm fucking tired of this system. How about you?
___________________________
Brackus
Long time friend of Johnny Blue Jeans.
Skills:
unknown
Special Abilities:
unknown
Modifiers:
___________________________
Q.B.
Other long time friend of Johnny Blue Jeans
Skills:
unknown
Special Abilities:
unknown
Modifiers:
___________________________
Johnny Blue Jeans
Room mate and friend from college. Stand up guy who spent a couple years teaching English in the Ukraine for the Peace Corps.
Skills:
General Athleticism
Special Abilities:
Russian
Modifiers:
Endurance +10
___________________________
Raucous P. L. B. Filibuster
Dude is a hilarious loudmouth and old friend from high school. Looks like a cross between William Shatner and Bob Hope, which makes his commentary even funnier.
Skills:
General Sarcasm
Special Abilities:
Vocal Projection, Razor Wit
Modifiers:
Height -2
___________________________
Skidmark
Nice guy. Movie trivia buff. Brother of a girl I went to elementary school with. Seriously, I know nothing about this kid.
Skills:
unknown
Special Abilities:
Fact Recollection
Modifiers:
Memory +15
___________________________
The Big E
Introduced me to, among other things, the evil pleasures of tabletop roll playing games. Yes, Dungeons and Dragons. Yes, I had a neck beard in high school, why do you ask?
I met The Big E when I was a high school freshmen and he was a senior, and he likes to say he was responsible for my early corruption. The truth is, I was already a bit weird, he just gave me the opportunity to express that.
Skills:
Dungeon Mastery, Prolific bearding.
Special Abilities:
Intimidation, Charm
Modifiers:
Awesome +50, Ability to digest corn and corn derived products -infinity
___________________________
Plus, it's an excuse to make up names for people.
Speaking of which:
hey, remember Character Guide!
In order of appearance:
Dark Mistress Hawthorne
High school friend of Zanzibar, came from her podunk home town to stay with Spanky, Zanzibar, and I back in early 2007. She is a maker of sweet t-shirts, an amateur photographer, a Coen Brothers fan, an animal lover, a mediocre driver, a closeted LiveJournal user, and a wonderful person . Also, she's my girlfriend/cohabitant.
Fact: neither dark, nor a mistress, nor a Hawthorne. Discuss.
Skills:
T-Shirt Makery, General Craft, General Cookery, Advanced Bakery, Advanced Sarcasm
Special Abilities:
*CLASSIFIED*
Modifiers:
___________________________
Slim Jim
College friend and owner of my house. Lives around the DC area. Likes: electronics, computers, dark humor, empathy, inquiry, survival. Dislikes: dishonesty, mathematics, hangovers, social castes.
Skills:
Soldering, General HandiCraft, Survival
Special Abilities:
Intelligent Conversation, ADHD, Vehicular Combustion
Modifiers:
Intelligence +5
___________________________
Auntie L
She and I go way back. She's a wit without match, and can wit anyone under the table without batting an eye. Seriously. She's like the Socrates of wit. Also, she's one of two people who ever comment here, so you probably at least know of her by now.
Skills:
General Knittery, Advanced Letter Writing
Special Abilities:
Razor Wit, Intelligent Conversation
Modifiers:
Intelligence +4
Cooking -5
___________________________
Stankfoot
My fellow Taco Bell aficionado and Battlestar Galactica freak. Also, my right hand Warhammer man. (For the emperor, brother.)
Skills:
General Motorcycling, Advanced Computer Tech
Special Abilities:
Fast Food Grease Resistance, Airbrushing
Modifiers:
___________________________
Bixby
Friend from college, fellow Trekkie, fantasizer of Riker. She, Slim Jim, The Blue Zipper and I lived together for half of every week for half of a summer once. It was rocking good times.
Skills:
Engineering, Debate
Special Abilities:
Line Dancing
Modifiers:
+5 Debate (in the presence of like-minded individuals)
___________________________
The Tzar
Boyfriend to Bixby
Skills:
Unknown
Special Abilities:
Line Dancing, Beard Trimming
Modifiers:
___________________________
Leggolamb
Drinking partner from college who constantly emasculated me. Quoth my father: "You drink like a truck driver's wife." A hoot in general.
Skills:
Advanced Drinking, Debate, Advanced Sarcasm
Special Abilities:
Recognizing issues of Gender and Class inequality
Modifiers:
Liver -5
___________________________
Bennington
Bennington was probably my first friend. I met her when I was two. I can't say I liked her when I was two, because I'm pretty sure my interests were still mostly related to bodily functions and bright colors. Upon reflection, not much has changed.
Though we've led separate paths through life, Bennington and I still remain friends.
Skills:
Teaching
Special Abilities:
Teaching
Modifiers:
Hey, teaching's pretty amazing.
___________________________
Funk
Husband to Bennington. He's my favorite jamming partner, and when he was at his tops, was a hell of a guitarist. We only jammed once though, but it was too fine.
Skills:
Teaching
Special Abilities:
Code Breaking
Modifiers:
___________________________
Mrs. Fussnpuss
Estimated age rage: 78-92. Obsessively cleans every last spec of ice, snow, or garbage from her walk. Though her posture may be bent, her spirit remains strong. (Whatever that means.)
Skills:
Hanging clothes on the line, Trash can moving, Sidewalk cleaning, Lectures on The New Deal, Passive Aggression, Aggressive Aggression, Aggressive... Passion?
Special Abilities:
Fear of "Those" People, Old School Guilt.
Modifiers:
Longevity +70
Charisma -10
___________________________
Spanky
Ska lover, tattoo collector, video game aficionado, friend from the old school days, and former room mate. Only likes meat and cheese on his taco.
Skills: Ranged Weapon Attacks, Selective Information Sharing, Charming Old Folk, Charming Young Folk, Mario Kart.
Special Ability: Really, aren't all his abilities special?
Modifiers:
Charisma +7
___________________________
Zanzibar
Music lover, tattoo collector, culture aficionado, wife of Spanky, and former room mate. Only likes iambic pentameter. Once threw a (toy) piano through a third story window. Exists in one or more of the three states: tired, cold, or hungry.
Skills: Debate, Multitasking, Mario Party
Special Ability: Facial expression manipulation.
Modifiers:
Cred: +5
___________________________
The Templetons
My creative writing professors from college. I don't know much about them personally, but they seem to be fairly swell people, even if they are a bit hard to get in touch with.
Skills:
Teaching
Special Abilities:
?
Modifiers:
Wow, I'm fucking tired of this system. How about you?
___________________________
Brackus
Long time friend of Johnny Blue Jeans.
Skills:
unknown
Special Abilities:
unknown
Modifiers:
___________________________
Q.B.
Other long time friend of Johnny Blue Jeans
Skills:
unknown
Special Abilities:
unknown
Modifiers:
___________________________
Johnny Blue Jeans
Room mate and friend from college. Stand up guy who spent a couple years teaching English in the Ukraine for the Peace Corps.
Skills:
General Athleticism
Special Abilities:
Russian
Modifiers:
Endurance +10
___________________________
Raucous P. L. B. Filibuster
Dude is a hilarious loudmouth and old friend from high school. Looks like a cross between William Shatner and Bob Hope, which makes his commentary even funnier.
Skills:
General Sarcasm
Special Abilities:
Vocal Projection, Razor Wit
Modifiers:
Height -2
___________________________
Skidmark
Nice guy. Movie trivia buff. Brother of a girl I went to elementary school with. Seriously, I know nothing about this kid.
Skills:
unknown
Special Abilities:
Fact Recollection
Modifiers:
Memory +15
___________________________
The Big E
Introduced me to, among other things, the evil pleasures of tabletop roll playing games. Yes, Dungeons and Dragons. Yes, I had a neck beard in high school, why do you ask?
I met The Big E when I was a high school freshmen and he was a senior, and he likes to say he was responsible for my early corruption. The truth is, I was already a bit weird, he just gave me the opportunity to express that.
Skills:
Dungeon Mastery, Prolific bearding.
Special Abilities:
Intimidation, Charm
Modifiers:
Awesome +50, Ability to digest corn and corn derived products -infinity
___________________________
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