Everything Else Is Just Cream Cheese

That's what appears to be an oatmeal bagel.  Freshly baked, not sliced, no bite marks, obviously disappointing to the person who purchased it at the supermarket.  So much so, that said person decided to put it underneath my car.  That's the driver's side rear wheel of my car.  Maybe the bagel got there by accident but I highly doubt it.  I bet squashing that bagel would have been so much fun but I declined.  Personally, I would've went passenger side front wheel in the off chance that the driver of the car (me) had no passengers. 

I have nothing more to say about this particular bagel.  Frankly, I've given it more attention that it ever desired.  But what if you were a bagel, what type of bagel would you be and why?  I'd probably be a sesame bagel with a ton of cream cheese.  I'd be kinda seedy and as for the cream cheese, I'd definitely have some flavor.  Perhaps some lox to make it kind of fishy.  Tangent - Have you ever been offered a bagel untoasted but had no access to a toaster?  It's awful, you gotta slice and toast it.  If I can't control the amount of cream cheese that I have (like if I'm at a bagel shop), I'll have the cream cheese on the side.  If I have time to eat a bagel, I have the time to spread my own cream cheese.

What's the appropriate age to stop eating pizza bagels on a regular basis?  It's gotta be sometime in your teens.  You must come to that conclusion on your own.  It's probably around the time you start to explore your infatuation with chicks/dudes.  The best way to end this is with a non sequitur, ALABAMAGIRLS!!!!!!!!!!!

Sequestered In Memphis?

Watched the Red Sox win their 11th straight game, how awesome is Jason Bay? Some people stand in the darkness, but he's not afraid to step up into the light. The quiet assassin (one of those words few can spell properly), the Un-Manny. It seems too obvious that they'd play Coldplay's 'Lost' after a loss at Progressive Field in Cleveland. I'm waiting for them to pull a Huey Lewis and make a 'Sports' album but call it 'Deportes'.

The Apocalypse is coming, how do I know this? The TV Land Awards exist. An entire award show devoted to TV shows from the past. Shows that had their day in the sun and solely exist as reruns and/or DVD. It's bad enough we have the pathologies and delusions of grandeur perpetuated by reality TV, we feel the need to recycle nostalgia. It's a vicious cycle, thanks idiot box.

I have jury duty in about a week in Quincy - if I got to be a juror for Phil Markoff, could I stretch out my 15 minutes of fame as a juror? I doubt the trial would occur that soon, but it would be something else. I could grow out my beard to epic proportions and make my removal of it a huge event. If I was sequestered, I'd gain a bunch of weight so I could go on a massive diet afterwards.

My hand is getting numb, I'm blogging from my iPhone. Thanks for reading, mahalo!

Thrust Upon

This was a draft 3 years ago, back when I had the time and the energy to blog on a semi-regular basis but I've edited it and added some thoughts in a brief snippet.

I wouldn't mind the holidays if it they weren't ubiquitous and omnipresent. You can't get away from the music and/or the advertising. It isn't even a religious issue either. It's more of a piece of mind issue. Everybody wants to have their cake and eat it. And you can, it's easier than ever to have everything you've ever wanted within reason at any time of year, not just during the holidays.  We are spoiled rotten and we love it.  I really don't care that I'm going from the first to third to first person extemporaneously, it's just gonna happen.  I feel like we take the condition for granted. I'd like people to be happy, but we put value on everything. I am a polarizing consumer - I either go overboard or don't give enough. I used to get anxious and stressed out over something that's trivial. I wish I could be great by satisfying everyone's needs and in the process, help the needy, but I am just a mortal man. I'll do my best and try not to be too selfish.  I may contradict myself but it's all just gray area at this point.  The holidays are for the kids and the kid in all of us.  The romantic iconography that litters the landscape, learn it, live it, love it.  But take a deep breath and don't get overzealous and envelope yourself in it like a freshly wrapped gift.  Just throw yourself in a bag with tissue paper so you don't smother others with your sheer joy.

Cutting Crew - An Emasculating Experience

I've come to a point where I've written in so many mediums, I forget what I have discussed. I have probably discussed my lifelong disdain for haircuts. You see, I am hairy everywhere, it's the gorilla in me. I went for a haircut shortly after work. It's 10 minutes of my life I'll never get back, but I'll relive this event every 8-12 weeks for the rest of my life. I can empathize with the inventor of the Floabie - there have been times I've wanted to vacuum my hair. Why stop there? Add a shampoo component and it would be the total package.

You see I go to Supercuts. Don't let the marketing fool you, it's the Russian Roulette of hairdressing. It would be too easy to make a Plaxico Burress joke, but I don't roll like that. Instead I'll spread some knowledge about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. To prevent the jelly from bleeding through the bread on a packed lunch, lightly toast the bread before you spread it. Who said I don't have tips? Speaking of tips, I'm obligated to tip my hairstylist. I'm not a regular and it seems like there's a revolving door of women that come and go at Supercuts. Could they be hairistas? It's not like the barbershop where change isn't a paradigm shift, it's how much the price of a haircut has changed in 30 years.

I never know how I want my hair cut, I just know that I need it cut. I'd almost welcome it if you knocked me out with a local anasthetic and went to town. I'd probably have to sign a waiver if I didn't like it, but I'm hedging my bets at Supercuts. It's not like I'm building a relationship with my hairista. How do I look? How about that mirror? It's like an Orwell Funhouse self-portrait. It's the longest continuous period of time where I look at myself in the mirror. Anything longer than that and I'd have join Narcissist's Anonymous. Maybe it would be worth it for the punch and cookies.

Occasionally Special

This is my first ever mobile blog effort froM my iPhone! Two ironic notes before I proceed - I promote laziness by not going over to the computer which is inches away from me to type this, I also foster poor typing skills, this is literally a wet dream for the collective forefingers of our forefathers that continue to hunt and peck at the keyboard with two out of their ten fingers. Learn to type already ya hosed.

I had planned on blogging on reunions specifically, but why limit myself. Let's discuss special occasions, I realize that all people get to a point in their lives where most of their non-job related social interactions are a series of special occasions - holidays, birthday parties, births, deaths, school related activities, sporting events, etc.. It may seem I'm generalizing, but the truth becomes self-evident as the seminal moments in your life transpire. You get all wrapped up in your own day-to-day life, you struggle to keep up appearances. It the paradox of your social circle - if you keep it small, you are overtly inclusive while on the other hand keeping it too big, leads to an inability to keep everybody content. It's like bubble gum - it's sweet, colorful and sticky, but eventually the flavor fades and the bubble bursts.

Most of your relationships will be come situational because they are easier to manage that way. You'll always wonder why you can't get beyond the figurative threshold (sp?) of your limited engagement. Maybe we are just victims of circumstance, maybe it was just meant to be that way. Maybe I just think too much and suffer from my ideas. Maybe that's not such a bad problem to have.

There is something peaceful about the dark. It's gotta be the throwback in me. Or it could be that I've watched way too much TV in my lifetime. I like to go off on tangents. I am the greatest American hero, believe that if you want to.

Undertaking Catharsis - Breathe

So I recently went to a wake, nobody likes wakes, funerals or anything associated with the death of someone you know and love. Whether it be a friend, acquaintance or family member, nobody is ever fully prepared for bereavement. I have the tendency to be antisocial at these gatherings. Perhaps it is a lack of experience, maybe it is just the grim reality of situation. I just read here that you don't have to be lying down for your wake presentation. But you most certainly wouldn't want to be treated like this.

Maybe if I was able to suspend my disbelief with regards to the event itself, I could loosen up. Engage in conversations with people from the past that you end up only seeing at weddings and funerals. Perhaps if these conversations didn't seem as inorganic as ones you have with people you went to school with that you didn't get along with that you haven't seen in ages, I'd feel a little more comfortable. Sure people evolve, but finding that common ground can be somewhat awkward. Maybe I should develop a routine better than the one I have; getting in/out in record time. Maybe I should crack a smile, a joke, a drink, a smoke for old times' sake, tell a story about glory and avoid one to gory. Maybe it would ease the pain, I can't feign emotion well. When I'm melancholy, it's crystal clear.

If you ever see me at a wake and funeral and I don't converse with you or see you, don't be offended. When I get older and attend more of these rites of passage, I'll hopefully get better at them. But for now, I'll work on my coping mechanisms.

Down With Disease

So recently I went to the emergency room on a Friday morning because my primary care physician doesn't take appointments on Fridays (what a sweet gig, apparently he's off on Wednesdays as well and he only takes cash - that's what I get for having such outstanding health insurance coverage). For the past week, I've have what I consider all the symptoms of the plague. I can now relate to the plight of the caged animal or even the common housepet that doesn't get out much.

Apparently, I have bronchitis and sinusitus (which wasn't a big surprise as I've been fighting a battle with my left nostril for about a year now - nothing major enough that needed any treatment though). Now I rarely get sick, ever so this whole debacle has been my own personal hell. I'm sick of coughing, I'm sick of drinking fluids, keeping food down is a struggle. I'm not vomiting, but every meal is a journey.

And the medication, who doesn't enjoy a nice alphabet soup? I swear they mix up the neglected letters of the alphabet like q, y, z and x just to make things more difficult for the general public. I don't think I would have had the patience to work with sick people. I wouldn't put up with my erratic behavior during my sick tenure.

I think we all suffer from some sort of seasonal affective disorder and it is rather SAD literally. Only someone that is truly evil can embrace the chill of the winter months. I'm convince skiing is a cult, people hurling themselves down mountains like that with their red faces and their chapstick infused smiles. I don't believe it for a second. Hot beverages and soup burns the roof of your mouth. Again, more patience is required to be slopeside. And these apre ski parties I always hear about, maybe I'm never drunk enough. Or maybe the people at these parties on the most part are truly devoid of levity and debauchery. Doesn't seem like it's my kind of party.