Thursday, May 31, 2007

I'm in the apartment drinking out of a damn measuring cup because its the one item in the house which using standard English is named using the word 'cup.' I'm not well versed enough to determine if any other items in my house are cups in other languages.

Advantages:
Easy access handle with quick release
Awareness of total fluid ounces consumed
Ability to pour consumables directly into gullet

Disadvantages:
Super wide mouth drinking necessary to avoid spills
More pathetic than men who play the clarinet

Between softball parties I went out to eat with some of the participants. In the Chili's bathroom they have one of those baby changing things with a sticker that says, "STURDY STATION" on it. Well it did anyway, now it says, "TURDY STATION."

I have a problem.

I just couldn't help myself, it wasn't even that awesome. I need help, and soon. If I see a marquee that will let me spell B-I-T-C-H-E-S, I... I... I don't know what I'll do. Probably die.

  Wednesday, May 30, 2007

My softball game was pretty awesome as far as softball games go. I'll post pictures once I get them. I had about twenty people turn out, which might be the most ever. It's the keg that does it. Tell people you have beer and they come right out of bushes or paraglide onto the field. Unfortunately, I didn't know a quarter of the people there, and one of those guys dad just sat in the dugout and drank my beer for three hours.

I then hauled the keg out to eat with some people, then exchanged it for admission into a party I wasn't invited to. There were high school people at that party too: guys I like but never talk to, so it was pretty awesome. They played wiffleball with a slip n' slide from third base to home (possible the greatest idea ever). The keg then rocked it out at a third party while I went to party #4, this one a Tecmo Super Bowl and sleeping party, my favorite.

  Tuesday, May 29, 2007

I took my niece and nephew to see Spider-Man 3. I had to drag them along: evidently there are cooler things then showing up with your scruffy looking uncle to the movies on a Saturday night.

The movie seemed uninspired. Also, too much crying, leading me to theorize that the coolness of a Spider-Man movie is inversely proportional to the amount of crying.

I'm cleaning my sister's stove in an effort to thank her for providing a place to sleep during my stay back home. I don't know how the stove is as dirty as it is, they must have grilled a steak right over the burner, or maybe earlier someone tried to clean it with BBQ sauce, which according to my brother is evidently a better idea then what I'm doing: "I hope you're not using cleanser on that stove." I am in fact using cleanser, and scrubbing quite vigirously when he adds, "That'll scratch it up, I better not get blamed for it." Alright I get it, cleanser bad. I'll start wiping it off, you going to help? "You're an idiot, why don't you ask before you start messing with other peoples things?" You done? No, "That's a $700 stove you just ruined."

Alright, I get it. Saving the stove must be secondary to making me feel like shit for possibly making it look less then prestine, but still better then the grease crust that was showcased earlier. The part I scrubbed looks stellar by the way, but my brother returns to point out the damage I've done on parts of the stove I've come nowhere near. If this stove was a 1985 map of the world and the cleanser is capitalism, my brother is now blaming the free market for the condition of the Soviet Union. This is typical of my family, it's fine to point out a mistake, but you can just stop there. Don't make someone feel terrible in lieu of providing solutions.

  Monday, May 28, 2007

It's been a busy weekend. I've basically been on one long bender since Saturday afternoon. I've got to pack up to get back in Seattle late tonight. I'll catch up on these last three posts tomorrow, promise.

  Friday, May 25, 2007

In Pittsburgh there is a cemetery. At this cemetery there are spectacular views of the city. I've never been there before tonight. As I sat there I wondered about all the other things I don't know about this city; how unfamiliar I am with its hot spots, and the nuances that make this place unique.

I blame the city for my lame weekends back west. It's Seattle's fault that I have nothing to do and nobody to do it with. Yet here I am, back home, with nowhere to go and no one to do it with. Sitting on that hill overlooking the city I so desperately want to be a part of, it crossed my mind that my lack of adventure might actually be my own fault.

Time to fix that.

  Thursday, May 24, 2007

I'm back home and at the grocery store with my sister. I've taken one of the bouncy balls out of the cage and I'm bouncing it repeatedly. I have a dream one day to climb in through the bottom of one of those pits and up to the top but this one is only six feet tall and unchallenging. This is annoying her, as is my juggling of vegetables and my attempted watermelon barrel roll. She accuses me of being immature.

I'm trying to be serious when I notice the long sticks of pepperoni in the deli section. There was a time when my mom would drag my younger self to the store and those pepperonis wouldn't last twenty seconds before I was dueling my nephew over what video game we would rent that night. Screw being twenty-six, those shafts of meat aren't lasting twenty seconds now.

Kshhhhhhkawoww!

My reward for defending the cheeses from those who would wish to purchase them, and surely do them harm: the discovery of re-instituted Vanilla Coke.

  Wednesday, May 23, 2007

I'm going back home tonight for my annual softball game. If you are in the Pittsburgh area Sunday, you're invited. I may be wearing a red jersey that says "RORGY" on the back.

  Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Where'd squash come from? It's a delicious soup, it's a side dish. And the yellow squash... ten years ago I didn't even know what that was, and now it's everywhere; it's like the Alec Baldwin of vegetables.

  Monday, May 21, 2007

I bought a pan. I don't have a pan. I don't have anything, but I felt an immediate need for a pan. So I buy this pan and it has a non-stick surface. I buy a dozen eggs to test how well this surface non-sticks (not so much), and so far that's been the only time I've used it. That was a week and a half ago.

Now I have 11 eggs going bad and to salvage them I resort to hard-boiling. I need a pot.

I don't need a super nice pot. Short of pasta and of course, hard-boiling eggs, what am I going to need a good pot for? Maybe I could get into cooking, and I deserve nice things; I should get a nice pot. But there's different manufacturers of pots, which one's the best, and I'll need to buy a whole set of cookware eventually, and why are there so many different kinds of pots, and what's a good price for one, and suddenly this is the most magnanimous decision in cooking history.

No, I can't just spend $12 on any old pot and learn from it. I have to decide what pot I'm going to use for the rest of my life before these eggs turn rank. How long should I wait for the perfect pot to come along? There's pots available now but what if I meet another pot later that's better for me. I'm not willing to compromise what I want to make it easier on the pot! If I just break the eggs I can sabotage the whole operations: that'll show those bitches... errr pots.

Why didn't I go through this when I bought the pan? It was simpler days back then.

  Sunday, May 20, 2007

I went food shopping, limiting my search to items that don't need cooked or served and don't require the use of utensils as I don't have any of yet, and I discovered that they now sell tubs of ready made cheesecake filling. Coupled with little graham cracker sticks, I may have discovered the greatest snack ever.

Biking to work wasn't as horrible as expected. When I first got on the bike I felt good, like this might actually be fun. That lasted six blocks. There were times where I really wanted to give up, but then I got my seventh wind and managed to make it past the twenty-third block. Only 367 more to go.

Halfway through I stopped at a little bike-to-work checkpoint and picked up some free water and trail maps. A quote from the 'Bicycling in Snohomish County' brochure:

Is there a helmet law?
Currently only the city of Lake Stevens has a helmet law, requiring use by anyone under 18. Cyclists in Snohomish County wear helmets because they save lives, not because it is the law.

Sounds to me like cyclists in Snohomish County are self-righteous assholes.

Then I pretended it was National Walk Your Bike Up a Hill Day. If I did ride it was in the lowest gear while WWII veterans from the local nursing home passed me by. Going down hills was great, but only made to look the upcoming non-downhill area more daunting. Some of the ones I buzzed down were enough to hinder my already waning desire to make the return route. It's not like it was Bike From Work Day.

I only fell once, and that was during the post work ride to the bus stop. By then it was raining. The road was narrowing and I tried to turn up onto the curb but my bike didn't.

I'm sore, not that sore though. In fact, I feel energized. I slept soundly, and I'm not intimidated by extolling energy: typically I'd just stay in bed, but I had no problem walking to my fridge to get a root beer this morning. All in all I'd say the biking to work thing did more good then harm.

  Friday, May 18, 2007

It was some chicks birthday at work yesterday. Normally if it's your birthday you get a card, but she got a freaking card and pie and streamers and decorations. It was disgusting, and I was jealous of the attention. Granted she's popular and attractive, but I'd think you'd be trying to avoid attention if your coworkers were creepy old men. Whatever, hell man, its a complete bummer: my birthday's suck and I want some damn friends.

Because my self-esteem wasn't yet at a record low, I went to her actual birthday party that night. She was ecstatic and drunk, the food was awesome, and her friends... well her friends were uninspiring. Here's a unfabricated snippet of a conversation I overheard.

Work Friend: How do you know her?
School Friend: I went to school with her.
Work Friend: I work with her.
School Friend: She's really great.
Work Friend: I know!

What the fuck is that? This is like being at some rocking concert and the dude next to you in the mosh pit turns and says, "I really like this band." Or after ordering a Coke from the vending machine, a guy telling you, "Coke is good." You would never talk to these people ever, in fact you are completely justified in messing with them.

Over her work cubicle, as part of the decorations, there's a banner that says, "AGING TO PERFECTION" which I think is a little smug, and likens her to cheese; I don't understand how that's less insulting then me going with '84' on the guess her age game. So I go back up to work, late last night and change the letters to say "RAGING ERECTION." Despite this girls birthday making me feel like shit, somehow I'm the one they raise a big harassment fuss over.

  Thursday, May 17, 2007

Tomorrow I will be participating in National Bike to Work Day, even though I haven't ridden a bike in seven years and its approximately 23 miles to work. This may be the third worse idea I've ever had. I'll write about my experience tomorrow... screw that, I'll write about my experiences Saturday after a good long nap.

  Wednesday, May 16, 2007

What was it like the first time you moved out on your own? I mean really by yourself. Did your parents help you move into your first grown up place? Or did your college friends team up to get you into your real job apartment? Did you have friends at the time? Well, you're already doing better then me!

If you have one, I'd be interested in hearing your first out on your own story. I think it might help me fill less deserted. Please share in the comments.

  Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Heroes is pretty awesome (so are Oreos, which I think of every time I misspell "Hereos"), but not as awesome as Heroes with close-caption because you're watching it in the conference room at work that has a TV Tuner but no sound

  Monday, May 14, 2007

So I wrote that last post about 8 o'clock last night, and the ever so faint wireless signal I get from the Laundromat was like, "No, fuck you." So I couldn't do anything with it until I got into work this morning. It haunted me all night, and I was more bothered by it then I have been in a long time.

I'm self destructing.

In my apartment I have a bed and some root beer, and it dawned on me as I struggled to find some form of communication with the outside world, that I have never lived by myself, ever. As I struggle to figure out what all that entails I find myself having no clue how to do the simplest things, or be able to make the easiest of choices. So for the foreseeable future, while I piece together some semblance of an existence, this blog is going to be about figuring it out.

Remember when you were little, and you'd huddle up with your other child friends, discussing "real world" issues like what's the best flavor of ice cream, and what girl is the yuckiest. Then, as the self-appointed leader of the newly formed executive committee mandating affairs of the neighborhood, you point out the hypocrisy that is Mother's day and Father's Day and Grandparent's Day and all other Days: how come there's no Kid's Day? Only once you've proclaim your infinite wisdom to your family, your Mother kicks the living bejebus out of you and tells you, "You little ungrateful prick! Every goddamn day is Kid's Day." Ahhh the times. To mom's everywhere.

  Saturday, May 12, 2007

I'm at work right now. So how much does what you're doing with your life suck?

  Friday, May 11, 2007

Look what came in the mail!

It seems the previous tenet of my apartment was a regular recipient of the Victoria's Secret catalogue. Guess I've got a date tonight.

  Thursday, May 10, 2007

This story is part of the roommate story countdown.

It was requested of me that I pay my rent in cash so that a certain roommate could avoid suspicion of him receiving what is a regular taxable source of income. This is a bitch: carrying around that much money is not something I'm psyched to do. I expressed as much my third month living there, but with no change to the policy I resolved that the only proper way to express my dissatisfaction was to pay my rent entirely in one dollar bills.


Straight cash holmes! That took me a few years to save, but before getting rid of it, it'd only be right to play with it. I took a bunch of pictures, like this one of me thumbing through a hundred bills just to make sure its real.


Here's one of it just piled neatly.


The next one's my favorite: money-angels.


Of course, a shot of my money in a briefcase. It's hard to find briefcases built to dimensions that money fits nicely in.


And me taking the money from the briefcase and stuffing it into a backpack, because the Feds are on me, and I need to take what I can and run.


You may not be able to tell, but I doctored the last picture slightly. Going with that, I wanted to see what my money looked like piled on a bigger stack of money.


As a new building in Dubai.


Standing up to the tanks in Tiananmen Square


Or Arnold Schwarzenegger cutting a guys arm off in the movie "Commando," presumably because he wants my money.


Alright, I'm cheating. I didn't even do anything to that last picture. Here's me swimming in the money; I'm just mailing it in at this point.


As far as rent, let's just say that a paper bag of ones wasn't recieved well as payment. I'm still anticipating the reaction when he realizes that this is about 1.5 times the normal amount.

Received my Washington State Driver's License today; only took 27 months of residency. Suck on that procrastination.

  Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Previously on my noir crime saga: Rory gets a ticket for running a stop-sign by a crooked cop with a vendetta to settle. Pulled over without proof of insurance, our hero faces steep fines and points on his driving record. Under the tutelage of a man who curried favor with an attorney woman, he has grown wise to the ways of law. Now, the final chapter.

According to the Sixth Amendment, I have the right to a speedy trial. The State of Washington defines speedy as within 120 court days. Nothing prevents me from requesting multiple continuances, which delays my hearing a few weeks at a time until one would put me over those 120 days. At that point court's computer system kicks in and won't allow any more delays.

Thanks to due process, I also have the right to review all evidence that could be used for or against me. It's called discovery, and if I submit a request, the prosecution has to provide it. I already have the ticket and the officer’s notes, but if I request a bunch of stuff like the squad cars maintenance report, all the tickets issued within a ten block radius that day, or what kind of tree the officer most identifies with, no fresh out of law school traffic court attorney is going to bother looking it up. When they don't, and I go to the hearing I can make a motion to dismiss my case. This will be considered, but denied; however, my hearing will be postponed to allow for the discovery request to be evaluated.

Genuinely winning the case is hard. It would basically come down to a situation where it would be my word against the cop's and you are never going to win in that battle. The court considers a police officer's word to be golden; in the legal sense they're expert witnesses. But if I can continue my hearing to the last possible date, get it delayed on a technicality, then I can get the case thrown out at the re-hearing because they've now exceeded the time limit on my constitutionally required speedy trial. Brilliant!

Someone I know studying law says they can't wait to be a lawyer so they can thwart the efforts of people like me. This is the view of an asshole, and the world doesn't need more asshole lawyers. As a lawyer, there are bigger fish to fry then the young kid who did his homework to get out of a traffic violation, plus you're going to be doing shit like this much more often then you’ll Matlock someone.

Everything's ready: hearing is on the last possible day, I print out all my motions, I have a manila folder with all my documents, I watch “My Cousin Vinny” 7 times, and I’m ready to go. I sit in the courtroom forever. They run late. I listen to case after case, and I’m picking up on the nuance of it. I know the proper way to address the judge and the city's lawyer (counsel), I know the difference between testimony and argument, and I know that my plan is going to fail miserably. Whorelicker! I'm going up there with my requests and motions, they’ll deny them, citing some statute that requires them to provide only the discovery data that they will be using against me. Damn, I didn’t think this out enough.

I'm the last one there. I frantically read through the officers notes a dozen times as I’m called to the bench. It’s a crime to not present your insurance even if you have it; I'm guilty of that. A bunch of people were admitting as much and settling for a $25 charge. I resolve it the same. My motions get denied. I'm sworn in. I give testimony, which summarized was "I stopped." but to cover my bases I’m descriptive as possible about the length and grade of the road, and the cars and trees people around the intersection. Counsel reads the stop sign violation verbiage straight out of the city code as his closing arguments. It's my turn...

Holy shit...

Deep breathe...

"In my testimony, I contended that before proceeding through the intersection in question, I had come to a complete stop at the Eastern stop sign. This is in contrast to the evidence submitted in the issuing officer's notes. While I am certain that the officer's account is completely accurate from his perspective, because his documentation makes no mention of his following distance or the visibility between myself and him, it is impossible to determine conclusively, that when the officer sees me, in his words, "run the stop sign" it is in reference to the action of committing a stop sign violation, or while pulling through after coming to a complete stop. Therefore, the city has not met the burden of proof, and I request that this case be dismissed."

I blacked out for most of that. I had it down so well, I had to fake being nervous cause I thought the judge might find it endearing. She considers my remarks, "After seeing a dearth of evidence, I have no choice but to dismiss the charge," and there was fanfare and hugging and tears of joy, and no one was there. But another attorney waiting to work some administrative stuff told me I did an awesome job.

"I don't know. All I know is, I finally got enough money... that I can buy my way out of anything. I'm above the law! It's a great feeling."

I dreamt this morning that every time I hit the snooze was a post to this blog. I was thinking how awesome it was; I won't have to write again for a week! Who cares if its not funny. Then I woke up and realized my snooze button is not a keyboard, and my broken clock radio doesn't have Internet access, and I'm a sad pathetic person who thinks so much about how I'm going to barely amuse a small handful of people, that I'm actually dreaming about it.

  Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Mr. Clean is funny!

I was talking to an older friend about TV shows. I’m trying to find some worth watching without wasting my time trying to determine if they are.

"'How I Met Your Mother' is a good one."

I’m skeptical of gimmicky shows. TV has been getting better, but it’s still bad. But this has 'met' in the title, which is past tense for 'meet.' If it takes place in the past, it might be like 'The Wonder Years,' that would be cool.

"Well, no. It takes place present day."

So he’s telling the story from the future! That’s amazing. Do they show the kids, are they wearing metallic space suits? Do the live underwater, or on the moon, or under the regime of a totalitarian alien government? I mean, yeah, it’s gimmicky, but it’s original. It will be cool just to see how they incorporate robots into their daily lives.

"They don’t show the future much, if at all."

You mean it’s just another story about some dude trying to meet a girl, only eventually we know he marries her and has kids. I watched it last night, and that’s pretty much what it is: guy trying to meet girl he’ll have babies with... pretty gay.

  Monday, May 07, 2007

Yes, I missed a day. I missed two days actually. I was gone this weekend, with no web access and barely any cell phone receptions. I got someone to blog for me on Saturday, but by the next day that proved fruitless. Add to that no Internet at my new home, not even any wireless to steal, and right now its really hard to keep up on this project.

But this blog is not a bastion of excuses. As agreed, when covering my ass, I will create more work for myself, so tomorrow I will start posting twice a day until Thursday. I will finish up the roommate and law career stories, and I'll have to make up shit for four more posts. By the way, I hate all of you.

  Saturday, May 05, 2007

The preceding post was provided Yellow Mustard Girl.

I am a fuckin' saint.

  Friday, May 04, 2007

They can get a little rowdy, but don't worry, the comments don't bite.

  Thursday, May 03, 2007

This story is part of the roommate story countdown.

For a while, Sunday was pizza day. Domino's had a large four topping take out special for $7.99, but they upped it to $8.99 and that's way out of my range. Then Sunday was football day. After the season ended and thanks to the magic of Madden, Sunday (if not everyday) is still football day. I'm chucking 65 yard bombs downfield to the the league's leading receiver in the 2021 playoffs, when my roommate asks me if I want to go in on some pizza; some second medium $5 deal. A 54 - 6 blowout can really famish you.

The doorbell rings and the sweet savory indulgence has arrived. I lift the wedge of satisfaction up over my head and clamp down as it drops into my mouth. "That was $26," roommate says. Now I'm taking the slice of opulence off of my tongue and plopping it back in the box. Twenty-six dollars! Did they ship this from Venice? Do they mix the dough with Eva Longoria's bathwater?

This is one instance of a general trend. I like to buy things that are cheap, regardless of quality. Ques likes to buy things that are expensive, also seemingly regardless of quality. He invited me to a midnight matinee of the latest Harry Potter Movie, a film a year plus old at the time. Trying to do more then win super Bowl LXVII that night, I decided to go. I find out at the ticket counter its nine bucks a pop. No Doubt better be opening for this movie, and they better be playing old stuff, cause their new shit isn't worth that much either.

  Wednesday, May 02, 2007

This story is part of the roommate story countdown.

I have to fix my shower door. It's supposed to be glass and it's a garbage bag. There's no awesome story there. I didn't break it practicing the martial art I've taken up that relies heavily on backward flip-kicks, or by throwing into it a ravenous escaped zoo animal that was hunting me for food, or by telekinesis. I shut it to fast, it bounced wildly off the rubber safety stopper, one of the rollers jumped out the slot, it hung there for a moment to taunt me, and then fell in the tub shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces.

It was magnificent.

My first instinct was to punch in the other door to see it again. I held back and just stood there in wondrous glee, listening to the pings of tiny pieces of tempered glass snapping under pressure. Ques comes running in, flipping shit, which granted, it's his place, but it's not like I won't pay for it. It's about the finer things in life, man. Revel.

  Tuesday, May 01, 2007

This story is part of the roommate story countdown.

Ques comes into my room, "Dude Rory, there's some brownie batter in a bowl in the kitchen if you want some." Sweet. I think cool, I'll lick the bowl clean maybe the spoons too. I'll get that little innocent looking patch of chocolate on my nose and then someone will see what a mess I've made of myself and call me a fat slut. It'll be just like my childhood.

I go out to the kitchen and there is if a full bowl of chocolate, what is this? "Dude, I told you I made brownie batter, that's how I eat it." He's not going to cook it, he's not going to make delicious brownies. He wants to eat it like its freaking pudding. What the hell? You can't just eat the stuff, what makes it awesome is the method and the ever so tiny quantities. He's now ruined this for me forever.