I drove all the way out to work this morning in the rain, and before I got to unpack my laptop and settle into work, I was asked to meet some folks in the upstairs conference room. They had the look on their faces that I’ve seen before, and they said the things I’ve heard before. I packed my stuff back up and walked with someone to the entrance and shook his hand—no hard feelings—and left.
Know anybody who needs a web designer?
This weekend, Jen and I did something we usually never do—I took her to a real movie theater, and we saw Corpse Bride with other real live human beings. The real live people didn’t disappoint us either. We were four seats down from a group of loud, annoying high school kids who thought it was fun to throw M&M’s at each other, play games on their cellphone, and talk loudly during a nine-dollar movie. The movie itself was great, although it could have used (in my opinion) about five more minutes of exposition.
Saturday morning we met up with my old friend Jeff from New York, and his girlfriend Katie, for brunch at the Golden West. Due to the Race For The Cure clogging downtown traffic, it took us longer than anticipated to get into the city for pickup, but once we got into Hampden, things were better. It was great to catch up with Jeff, and we made tentative plans to have them back down for a visit in the future.
Saturday evening, we ventured back into the city again for an art opening at the Shinola gallery for our old pal Logan, who’s in town for a week or so. We picked up Rob and his wife and made our way to the wrong address on the wrong street (my fault) then followed a couple to the wrong address on the right street (Logan’s fault) and finally to the gallery door. It was great to see Logan again (Our visit was a surprise) and catch up with him; he’s been doing very well in L.A. and his art has come a long way. I also ran into a few other folks from the scene, including the daughter of an old friend and a few people from the MICA scene back in the day.
After the show, the four of us retired to the Brewer’s Art for a cocktail and some food, and we were able to score one of the tables by the window on the top floor. There’s nothing more cosmopolitan for a country mouse like me than to sip a vodka tonic among the hip and beautiful, if only for an evening.
My good friend Rob took me on a boat ride Sunday, on his ’68 Donzi. It’s a sexy little fiberglas speedboat with minimal styling and a LARGE engine. We crusied through the no-wake zone for a while, sipping coffee to the rumble of the engine behind us, until we got out to the open channel, and he opened up the throttle. It’s a fast enough boat that you feel like you’re on the edge of control, depending on the skill of the driver and the height of the waves—thankfully, the boatbuilder put an “oh-shit” handle in front of the passenger seat, because there’s no windshield and little else to hang onto. We zipped past the cabin cruisers and sailboats, out to Gibson Island, and turned for home in the flat wake of a passing boat. All in all, it was an excellent way to spend a warm October morning. Thanks, Rob!
How To Get A Human On The Phone.
If this all works, that’s some COOL information. I hate IVRs.
I’m going to be boring here for a while, folks, because I’m juggling about 50 projects at once. The kitchen has been moved back three weeks due to some discussion about the cabinet color. I’ll have more on all that later, because right now I’m too swamped to sit still.
By the way, for all you comment spammers out there: Comments on posts more than a few days old have all been turned off. You may bite me.
I love you, shmoopy.
Million Dollar Baby: Worth every Oscar they gave it. Great movie.
Hitch: That rarest of species: the funny, watchable, engaging romantic comedy.
Our house: Not nearly enough progress as I’d hoped, but it’s getting a little closer. There’s a coat of primer on the back atrium windows, the attic window above the stairs, and on the fascia board over the peak of the atrium window. (That was an interesting feat of acrobatic skill, hanging my stupid ass over the side of the roof to slap a coat of paint on a board. It’s funny how fearless I get with heights as the summer progresses…)
Life: We spent Saturday evening with R&K on their deck in Canton, overlooking the neighborhood, harbor, and city skyline. As always, it’s great fun to relax with the two of them and enjoy cocktails on the cheap. The pair of all-weather couches and comfy pillows up there is a testament to their excellent taste—sitting on their deck is like being in a private club. Jen and I spent last night poring through the IKEA catalog over furniture we can’t afford. How coincidental was that?
…back to work…
The past couple of weeks have been kind of slow here at Idiot Central as well as elsewhere on the web. It’s not that there’s nothing happening and we’re lounging around in our underwear watching reruns of Dr. Phil and swilling lite beer; both Jen and I are stupidly, numbingly, unaccountably busy. It’s just that I’d like to write about something other than the color we painted the hallway last weekend, or the eggplant growing in our backyard, or what we had for dinner last night.
I realized last night that I’ve been working like an absolute retard since the end of spring and I have nothing to show for it, except a pile of debt. I’d like to say that our brief sojourn to Ireland was paid for, but the harsh fact is that it was put on credit, and I feel that credit hanging over my head like a noose. (I don’t regret going, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.) I dislike debt about as much as I dislike foreign objects in my eye, pro wrestling, and tequila hangovers, so this situation has me a little stressed out. My lovely wife listened to my worrying last night, and was remarkably understanding and calm about the whole situation. I suspect she’s just as tired, worried, and concerned about all this crap as I am, but she’s learned how to keep me from completely wigging out. Thanks, baby.
It’s not like we have a Ferrari in the driveway, or a plasma-screen TV, or closets full of clothes—I’m currently wearing a threadbare shirt I’ve owned since high school and a five-year-old pair of shorts—I’ve just been socked with dumb one-time bills ever since we got back, and it seems like I’ve been writing newer and more expensive checks every day. And that shit is getting old.
Perhaps, then, it’s fitting for me to post these pictures I took a while back of a house in Ellicott City: The owner has covered the outside with handmade signs (and some of you may know that I have a certain love in my heart for homemade signs) talking about Jeebus, his government, his neighbors, and other assorted subjects. I don’t know what the whole story is, but I present our own local oddity for your viewing and reading pleasure. Maybe this guy has the right idea.
I think everybody’s bored with the internet these days. Ms. Lis is looking for questions, as is Todd; Molly seems to be fighting off the boredoms. So I’ll try to make my stupid questions as interesting as I can.
If you could put two people in a ring and have them fight to the death, who would it be and why? (Neil Diamond vs. Barry Manilow? Your shop teacher vs. your math teacher? Charles Nelson Reilly vs. Paul Lynde?) Who would win?
What’s the last life lesson you learned, and why did it take so long?
You have a vehicle with a full tank of gas and an empty weekend. Where are you going to get away from the (heat, people, job, family, ex) within a 250-mile radius of where you live? (and what are you driving?)
Sum up the thing you wish you could go back and do over in your life with one word.
What’s the dumbest thing you never got caught doing?
What should you have accomplished in life by now, according to the 18 year old version of yourself?