'Tis the Season

I was strolling through Macy's yesterday and my date and I found ourselves suddenly in the north pole. I commented on how the day after Halloween it seems the fake snow starts falling in every department store and we find ourselves in the middle of Christmas season. "It's been Christmas season since September" she said, and since we met on either side of the jewelry counter at a reputable department store, I assume she's right.

Yes, every year I frequent the mall in Autumn, buying college gear, birthday presents for family members (the majority of which have Fall birthdays), and every year I am taken by surprise when I finally notice the decorations and holiday muzak. "It was here the last time you came in. And the time before that" I'm told. I suppose I onjly notice it when my frame of mind is right. That being said, and in the spirit of the holiday season (the true spirit, not that churchy nonsense) I now post,

Polio's Xmas List 2007

in no particular order

• A Bed - either full or queen size, at least 2' from the floor, and preferably containing the words "posture" and "pedic."



• Hef-stlye Bathrobe - classy where I can wear it out (with sailor hat and sunglasses) and warm and fuzzy for post-shower comfort



• Leather motorcylce jacket - it won't be until spring that I'll think again about buying the bike, but I sure want to look stylish in that jacket now. Zip-front, snap-collar, and real leather please. Size L



• Dark blue Denim Jacket - an American Classic, also Size L



• Jeans - size 34x32, variety of fits are fine, but avoid baggy/relaxed fit and superskinny/emo fit. When in doubt, go with regular fit boot-cut jeans from regular old brands. You know, like Diesel, Express, American Eagle, or Banana Republic.



• Pair of Headphones - I've been living with my iPod stock headphones and a pair of Sony wraparounds, but what I really need are some noise-cancelling big-honkin mofos that cover my entire ear and sound crystal clear.



• Birkenstocks taupe suede clogs. Size 10 1/2

• Candy
  
  

Pictures

of my tattoos, to be precise. I celebrated my 20th yesterday by enduring 3 hrs and 20 minutes of pain. And that was just getting them done, not counting the rest of the day feeling tender and sore. That being said, it was totally worth it, and here they are.
The picture above is my right arm, the notes with suns for heads being the original design, with the treble clef added yesterday. If you look closely, the artist added a shadow of the original notes under the clef, making it look like 3 layers (which I like in particular).
This is my left arm, and though it doesn't show, the level of detail and effects around the treble clef are the same here. Apparently Bonita can't focus on my left arm as well as my right (she likes the right arm better anyway). Similar styling on this one, it just goes towards the back of my arm farther (which hurt like a beeotch), but I like especially how the crescents of the moons (the original tattoos) reflect the crescent of the bass clef.

Hope you like them, but if you don't, it's me that has to live with them, no one else!

7 Minutes in Heaven

I woke up this morning feeling productive, so I hauled out of bed and got a haircut. On the North end of town there's a place called the Regency Beauty Insititute. Or rather, Heaven. Never before have I seen an institution so dedicated to educating none but the finest of the fine. Not only were the beauty students hot, but the teachers were hot, the receptionists were hot, and the clients getting they're hair done were hot. On top of all this, the girlfriend came with me to make sure I didn't walk out with a purple mohawk.

Now this all started off great, and it got even better when my hairstylist came out to introduce herself. "Hi my name's Kayla and I wanna say thanks for being part of my educational experience today."

Unhh.

The fun ended here, though. Kayla was sweet, and nothing if not terribly cute and nice to boot, but her defining feature was her nerves. I don't blame the girl, she had to do my hair with 2 instructors watching over her shoulder, and judging by the way they talked to her, she hadn't had much previous success with guy's hair. Still, even after nicking her fingers with the scissors twice, she kept at it.

In an effort to keep things light, I tried to loosen her up with some friendly conversation. I had to walk a fine line, since Bonita was right there watching, and I didn't want her to think I was hitting on the beauty student, but I did my best. We discussed beauty school, and our common desire to open up our own stores (different types of stores of course), and I think once we began talking it went much smoother. There was a little 3 year old girl in the chair next to mine getting her hair curled who was talking up a storm, and when Kayla looked over at her and said "Aww your hair looks so cute!" I coyly quipped "Why thank you!" and earned my first deathglare of the day.

It's true I deserved that one, but I plead not guilty on the second. When we had finished, I moved to get up and suddenly remembered that it was customary to tip a haircutter, and reached for my wallet. I only had a ten, so, feeling generous, I gave Kayla the ten, smiled, and left. Bonita was not a fan of the tip.

See this is where I have problems. I used to work for tips, so I always tip on the high side for good service (especially the kind of service where they rub their boobs on you when they trim your sideburns). I've caught flakk for this before, but I guess it's a lasting habit that's hard to break. I tried to explain to her that tipping is just a soft spot for me, and that it could have been a 400 lb sweaty man and I still would have tipped high, so long as he pressed his boobs on me, but she just wouldn't hear it. Women.

Agenda

To Do:

1. Get a haircut - I keep telling myself to go get it cut, but things always get in the way. I was almost there yesterday, but I got a call right before my 2 hr break telling me it was now only <45>

2. Take passport photos - I've kinda been waiting for #1 first before doing this. I suppose I COULD take pictures looking like a yeti, but I'd like to avoid another botched photo shoot (speaking specifically about my driver's liscense, in which my 16 year old self sports an afro so large it leaves the frame).

3. Go to the drum shop and take a few lessons - I've got plenty of musical knowledge, and I can practically hear the metronome beating in my ear, and I thought it might be fun to take drum lessons. This way I can take a practice pad with me, and not lug a bigass horn around when I want to practice. Plus girls think drummers are sexy.

4. Enjoy my weekend with Bonita! - We both managed to avoid being scheduled this Fri/Sat, and plan on having a sleepover. We considered attending a party at my would-be house in Blo-No, but I've got better plans.

5. Call/Have long talk with Siblings - This really is number 1. I owe Easel a long phone call, but cannot make that call until the weekend. She can expect that tomorrow afternoon though.

Hot - Tatts - Corps - Questions

It's hot. Last week the average temperature was 60, so the AC was shut off, the windows opened, and sweatshirts broken out of the closet. Now it's 90 again, and the roommate doesn't want the AC on (I don't blame him, it costs $) so we have to sweat like it's July again.

The plus side of this is that I got to wear shorts to work again, and they're fitting a little looser than they had before. Hopefully this means I'm smaller, not that I drug up shorts that haven't been washed in 4 weeks.

Pay day is Thursday, and bonus checks are next Tuesday, so I plan to finish the tatts sometime either this weekend or next. Once completed I will post pictures. If I can figure out how.

Tonight is inventory night, which usually means 1 or 2 AM, but I do have a training class, which should allow me to leave at 11:30. Nice. Sadly Bonita has an 11 o'clock curfew, so my early(ish) night will have to spent with my other loves: drum corps dvds and pizza rolls. Speaking of which, I ordered the 2003 finals dvds last week and am eargerly awaiting their arrival! Word of advice though, don't order from dci.org unless you have an hour to spend trying to create a login/password. I had to do it about 13 times before it finally accepted it.
Question to the blogosphere: is it permissible to post my email address? I figure since the address has no personal info associated with it, it wouldn't be a problem, but god forbid I break the unwritten rules of the blog. (Or are they written?)

Hooray!

Well it's 9 PM, and not quite "tomorrow" yet, but I have the opportunity to write, and well, I'm gonna take it.

Chillax- yes it was one hell of a date. I'm sitting next to the Hot Almost Girlfriend right now, but she's now the Hot Pretty Much Perfect Girlfriend. This just goes to show that actually showering before dates pays off. What might have happened if I had blogged just a little longer, forsaken the shower, and rushed to my date grungy and with horrendous bedhead? The world may never know. And thank god, because I haven't been happier with anyone else in my life. Bonita, as I shall call her henceforth, will undoubtedly be the subject of many a future blog.

Plug- I go to take my passport photos tomorrow at Walgreen's, but first I have a date with the hairstylist. I've seen what botched passports look like (...) and I don't intend to offend.

Rake- In response to our hasty Facebook conversation. No. And thank god. But I was worried for a bit, and that's what I wanted to talk to you about. But it's all good now, so no need to fret.

Jaz- I've been absent recently, are you who I think you are? Methinks you might be the maternal half of our family's long time church-Dos lunch excursion companions. The quiet half.

Sandbox and Easel- I'm positively thrilled that you're now blogging. See my comments on yours, and I hope you'll remember to check mine every so often. Btw when's Dad gonna get a blog?

Dagromm- I haven't had the 98987539221224908 hours to spare that it will take to catch up on reading your blog, but when I do, I'll be sure to comment and join in the hilarity.

And with that, Good Night!

Much like my elusive relatives, I have decided to make a triumphant return to the blog world... tomorrow.

Must Hurry!

I can't post long, as I have a date in 25 minutes. And I still have to shower. And get dressed. And brush my teeth. Shit this better be quick.

Date: Girl I will call the HaG (Hot almost-girlfriend) and I met a month or two ago, and we had our first almost-date on Friday. We got smoothies and lemon bars, and had a really great time, and today we're going to lunch. Neither friday nor today were planned as dates, but the last one turned into one, so I dunno what to expect.

Work: Promotion is finalized, I am a Certified Manager (with a framed certificate to prove it), and resume my role tomorrow at my home store.

Home: Moved out of house with friends and in with boss. Yeah... I know.

Ok, must shower now. Wish me luck!

It's That Time Again!

Hooray, drum corps season has started!!!!

Opening weekend of DCI summer tour was this past weekend, with shows in Coon Rapids MN, Pleasant Hills CA, Annapolis MD, Stockton CA, Menomonie WI, and Pittsburgh PA. I've been looking at scores, and here's what I project for top 12:

1. SCV

2. Phantom Regiment

3. Blue Devils

4. Cavaliers

5. Bluecoats

6. Cadets

7. Carolina Crown

8. Blue Knights

9. Glassmen

10. Madison Scouts

11. Colts

12. Blue Stars

I'll try not to post too much about corps, but I'll post finals scores to compare with this list.

In other news, I started my Manager Certification Training class today. I sat in class for 5 hours, but it was really pretty awesome, and although I'm the youngest in my training class, I have the most managerial experience (and the most at my business too). We had to sign forms saying we wouldn't sell the secrets they tell us, and since I'm actually learning the secrets now, I took it a bit more seriously than the form I signed when I was hired.

And lastly I called this girl today. We've been doing things together recently, but never by ourselves. I feel like since my job has become a career, and I've moved out of my parent's house I should step up my personal life too, but it's harder than it should be. It took a good deal of psyching up to finally call her, and in the end I got her voicemail. It was my chance to be a man about it, and this is what I said

"Hey there, it's polio... um... just calling to say 'Hey'... oh and um...to see if you wanted to come out with us tonight... bye"

They call me Mr. Smooth.

Interview

The story of my interview, which took place Tuesday, begins at Macy's. I had been looking forward with nervous excitement to this for a while, but after a few weeks of mentally preparing myself for an interview in front of 25 people twice my age, I had only one base left to cover: fashion.

Last week I drove to work only to realize in the parking lot that I had forgotten shoes. This presented a problem, as I live an hour away from work, so I called my boss, told him I had had a "bathroom emergency," and ran to Shoe Carnival. I dashed through the aisles and found a pair of Diesel-esque brown suede shoes which I thought looked good, and bought them. My boss had no problem, and was relieved to find that I had not pooped in my pants.

With a good pair of shoes in hand, a pair of dark khaki pants, and socks, I went to Macy's to find the rest of my ensemble. Two of my close friends work in the jewelry department, so I started off by asking them for advice. My boss suggested a polo, so I stuck with that, but it took us about 2 hours to decide on what color would be best. 2 hours later we decided on... black.

By this time it was 8:30, and the mall closed at 9, so I scurried over to Express and picked out a black polo, went to the GAP to buy a kelly green T to wear underneath, and then went back to Macy's, since we'd decided that my pants were to dark, and I required a lighter khaki.

(Author's note: This reminds me of a date I went on Freshman year of college when I spent an hour and a half doing my nails, only to look at the clock and realize I had no time for a shower. Needless to say we did not go out again.)

I looked exceedingly dapper on the morning of the 5th, and came into the meeting with a professional smile and a strong shaking hand. We sat down at 7:30 to discuss business, beginning with reports and goals for next period, and went through our agenda with molasses-like speed. Perhaps it was the president of the company sitting to my left that made time pass so slowly, or maybe it was the amount of Squirt I had consumed coupled with my lack of undergarments that put me on edge, but by the time it was my turn to speak I could swear they had turned down the house lights and fixed a spot on me.

I was introduced by my manager, and then left alone at the head of the table. I took questions for about 15 minutes (only fifteen?!!? no way, it must have been 3,748,262,995), and was stopped halfway through by the president saying that he would just like to say that I was doing impressively well: I was looking everyone in the eye, standing tall and confident, and was giving well thought-out and to-the-point answers. Whew, my first breath in ages.

Afterwards, my boss talked with the payroll lady, and confirmed that my salaried position would begin the next day, talked with the head of training to confirm that I would begin the training class on June 18th, and then talked with me to confirm that I "f***ing killed it!"

To celebrate, I treated myself to something I've wanted to do for a while now, but hadn't taken the plunge: I got tatoos. Two to be exact. There are now two sets of eighth notes, one on each arm, with the left having crescent moons as note heads, and the right having flaming suns as heads. I go back in about 2 weeks to add a staff (treble clef on the right arm, bass on the left) that wraps around and under the big notes. If anyone's interested, I'll post pics when I get a camera working.

Sleep... Finally

I just finished 3 very long days at work, it's almost 4 AM and I just drove an hour to get home. I'll blog tomorrow about my interview, and *hopefully* find a way to upload pictures of my new tatoos.

Right now though, I'm just gonna go to bed. See you all tomorrow afternoon.

Tan Lines

I don't want to come off as vain, but I look damn good with a nice tan. I'm naturally tan, due to a bit of ethnic diversity, and the sun only serves to compound my bronzy tone. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I turn out to be Mister Hawaiian Tropic, but I've got a good head start on the competition. I tend to burn in the face, but I honestly can't remember the last time anything below my shoulders burned, and the damage to my face only lasts a few days.

Last summer my own mother didn't recognize me after my corps tan, and when I came home for the 4th of July, my ex-gf asked "who's that mexican guy?" It was me hun, it was me. I sent my mom a really great picture, that, if she weren't driving to Canada right now, I would call her for and post here. It's a shot of my legs and feet, in which my feet are ghostly in comparison to the near-blackness of my calves.

I didn't catch the worst of it either: a trumpet player named Justin burned himself so badly that his shoulders turned bubblegum pink, sprouted massive blisters that oozed for a few days, then burst open leaving cracks all over his shoulders. This caused our director to one day shout from the scaffold, "Baritones you were late on that last entrance, and Justin, for god's sake put a shirt on."

Drummers are often fond of their so-called "Harness tans." No it's nothing kinky, it's just the lines from their drum harnesses, leaving them with lines around this

It should be noted that everyone can have their own special set of lines. I believe in fairness, so here's a shout out to all you beach bunnies, surfer dudes, and even you nerds who get a watch tan on your way to Radio Shack.

I'd Rather be Playing Snood

It seems like I can't have a good thing for very long without some complications. I finally got situated in my new house, and then I get this job offer in the town I moved from that I couldn't refuse, so now I have to start thinking about moving back. Wouldn't you know it?! My boss walked out the other day, and as a result, I'm interviewing for his job next Tues.

In other news, I've attracted some drama of the female variety, but I'll wait to elaborate until I have something to elaborate on. Suffice to say that there's another guy causing trouble, and we'll have to lay down some Law.

On a serious note, one of my best friends from college got kicked out of the university at the end of last semester, and his parents have demanded that he discontinue living with us, and come home. I had been really looking forward to having him as a housemate, so it's been a little sadder there lately.

Lastly, I'd like to give big ups to my mother, who leaves for the hinterlands this week. I can't wait to hear about all the maritime happenings, and in addition to my expected weekly recon reports, there had better be a scathingly witty blog entry every so often. Love you Ma.

Church/Contents of my Trash Can

Perhaps God is mad at me, so I went to church this morning to sort things out. My phone broke a little while ago, my car broke on Friday, my house was broken when I got there, and I still haven't gotten the mud off of my new Nikes. Yes, I'm practically Job at this point. Regardless, I'm sure it's nothing that a little P&P can't fix.

Going to church always does put a little of that "Go get 'em!" optomistic flair in you, and it certainly helps you count your blessings. Like the blessing of not being tone-deaf, a blessing the woman next to me this morning was not so fortuante to have recieved. Not you Mom, the one on my left.

There are other blessings but none seem blogworthy.

I moved this weekend, and I think it's worth it to commemorate some of the things I'm not taking with me. If I had my own prime-time spot I'd play "You had a Bad Day" and create a sappy, yet nostalgic montage to go along with this blog, but sadly I'm not Mark Burnett, and do not own TV.

First I'll say goodbye to my nightstand. I'm sorry I painted you that heinous seafoam, but I promise it was only to cover up the Nickelodeon stickers I covered you with all those years ago. You were always there when I needed a place for my lint-covered pocket change, and for that you will be remembered.

Next, I'll bid farewell to my sophomore health class textbook, which was accidentally stolen by me in my haste to get the hell out of school. I'll never forget the tasteless drawings inscribed by your former owners, and most importantly you taught me what the Gooch really is.

And finally I feel I must make special mention of my little black book of girls #'s. Ever since cell phones had phone books, you've been obsolete, but it's the simple fact of your existence that counts. Even by Little Black Book standards, you sure were little.

MMmmmm... Bananas...

I got paid today, and received approximately 2x as much as last paycheck. SWWWEEEEETT!


My boss also told me that within a year I could very possibly be a Training Manager, which would mean I'd stay here, but be making around 34K a year. This would effectively lower me from a 7 to an attractive looking 3 on the stress-O-meter. Or possibly I'd be doing what we call "Guerrilla Marketing."





This is a pretty awesome sounding job, which would involve me traveling around the country taking steps to insure the downfall of rival companies, and our rise to supreme domination.

Seriously.



There's also a driver who, despite the fact that we've worked together for over 2 months, still doesn't know my name. I'm his BOSS half the time, but he still calls me "Phil" or "Hey You" most of the time. Sometimes he just calls me "BJ" but I'm not entirely sure where this comes from, and frankly I find it too funny to correct him. He's not the brightest, and it was hard enough trying to explain that when customers give him money, he has to give it to us. I'm afraid telling him that my name isn't what he thought is was might make his brain explode.
I already had to clean up after a drunk guy blew chunks (beer chunks) all over my lobby (he then went to the bathroom, came out later without his shirt, and went next door to buy more beer), and I don't want to deal with the potential mess involved.

So I guess I'll be BJ for a while.

Iron Chef Midwest

This afternoon finds me alone and hungry. Everyone else in the house has better things to do than sit around playing video games, like school, or a job. I however, have a quest. That quest is to find food.

Like most normal humans, I woke up late, and stumbled downstairs in my PJ's to find some grub. After looking in the fridge, the pantry, the freezer, under my bed, and in the phonebook (in that order), these are my options

• Peeps


• Quesadilla using the last flour tortilla and a bag of shredded cheese


• Foil-wrapped mystery food


• Frozen hunk of pork

Well the quesadilla seemed the best option, but in my infinite brilliance, I pushed "4:55" on the microwave, instead of ":45" so my food is somewhat on the black and viscous side. I would make mac and cheese, but we're out of milk, and I would order chinese, but we're out of money. This leaves me with no choice but to mix the sugar-covered marshmallow bunnies with the pork and hope for the best.

Fundies

I've always felt that christians of the fundamental persuasion had their priorities a little... misplaced, but this takes the cake. "Hook 'em while their young," the cigarette companies say, and apparently it applies to intolerance and bigotry as well. Here's a picture submitted by Katie.

No no, that's right. That IS Jesus throwing bombs at Atheistville. Scary huh? For more info that is both hilarious and disturbing, go to http://objectiveministries.org/kidz/

DCI Finals

Working 26 out of the last 48 hours has left little time to blog (not that I'm particularly diligent as it is) but I feel the twinge of creative mania, and thus do I post:



I've been listening to quite a lot of music recently, most notably the 2006 Summer Music Games Finals. This recording, ordered from the DCI website in November, was recently garnered unto me, and was promptly iPodded. My top show concepts go as follows:



1st Place : MACHINE performed by the Rosemont Cavaliers. This show, reminicient of Frameworks ('02), was, as its name would indicate, mechanical to the "t." Every aspect of the show's design was robotic, including the music (similar at times to the ACME theme from Loony Toons) as well as the drill, which begins with gears turning, and includes a moment with the screech of bending metal, while the block in the center warps and bends as well.

Polio's favorite moment: the "broken record" section when the trumpet section plays the same riff over and over again until a guard member whacks one on the head to get it to finish playing. Classic.



2nd Place: Faust, performed by Phantom Regiment from Rockford, IL. Phantom Regiment, characterized by their impeccable musicality and orchestral sound, followed last year's Rhapsody in Blue, with the story of Dr. Faust and his pact with the devil Mephistopheles. While I won't go into detail about the Faust legend, I should remark that nearly every aspect of the tale is somehow included in Phantom's 11 minute production. This includes the summoning of the devils (guard guys in black bondage suits), the death of Gretchen (a guard girl who is covered in a black sheet, but later rises, reborn in a different, grander outfit), as well as Faust's redemption as the hornline plays Mahler's Symphony No. 2 "Resurrection." A well thought out and executed dramatic production with one of the loudest hornline's this blogger can remember, and possibly the most precise battery.



Polio's favorite moment: The end of the ballad, Franz Bibel's "Ave Maria," in which the percussion sections tacet, and the horns sustain a beautiful suspended chord, growing louder while perfectly balanced, until it resolves, leaving me in shivers every time.




3rd Place: The Godfather: Part Blue performed by the Blue Devils from Concord CA. This show's value lies for me in its listening value rather than its visual performance. The beginning is a shoot-out with the snare section running behind horn players, rat-a-tat-tatting at tenor drummers across the field. This section is a gripping start to the show, and sets the tone for the dark mafia themes that follow. The Blue Devils are famous for their jazz, and though it shows in certain sections, they opted not to rely solely on the same tried and true jazzy solos and stacked chords, but branch out into more symphonic and dramatic musical styles. While this may not have resulted in a championship, it makes BD much more enjoyable to my ears.



Polio's Favorite moment: Towards the end of the closer, a massive cross with the horns as outline and percussion crammed inside runs silently across the field, morphing suddenly into a dagger, as the entire corps recapitulates the main Godfather theme we heard earlier, though much louder this time, and with heart-stopping intensity.



Other mentionable performances: Santa Clara Vanguard's "Moto Perpetuo" in which the corps never stops moving, as well as The Glassmen, as they play Beethoven as though in a concert hall, with tuning, performance, and applause all included in the show.





Though some people's rating systems might need a bit of tweaking (cough), I do honestly give this summer and overall A- for solid shows from top to bottom.

Updates, but sadly no Dates

Today I was introduced to the head of Training and Management, whom I had heard of, but never met. We shook hands, and she politely explained that she was surprised we'd never met considering I have such a reputation. This surprised me too: apparently I have a reputation!
In other news, I've made tentative plans to attend a show in Atlanta this summer. My friends J and La have bought tickets for us, along with my friend Q, and it promises to be quite the excursion. It's the largest show before finals, which are in Pasadena this August. Of course a trip to SoCal is more tantalizing, as girls in bikinis are, in general, more appealing than the streets of ATL (I've been warned not to disrespect the ATL, so I should note that I mean no offense). Tripping to California does also mean another few thousand miles of road, effectively making it impossible to travel to those sandy beaches. Ahh I can smell the suntan lotion slowly slipping away...

Q called me this morning, inquiring as to my preference of hotel, my proposed budget, my method of transportation to and from the show, and then, as an afterthought, when we actually wanted to go. I recommended that we look at the DCI website for the date of the show, and try to shoot for something around then.

Lastly, my vision care provider has been, shall we say less than adequate. Let me clarify this: my contacts are of the "leave them in for a month, then toss them" variety, with cautions against leaving them in for periods lengthier than 30 days. Being frugal, and contacts being expensive, I opted to stretch the life of mine for, at first a month and a half, then 2 months for the next pair, and later a 2 1/2 month span for the 3rd pair. My fourth and final pair, have been in my eyes for, I shudder to say it, 6 months. This has left my eyes in a right state, requiring me to add 10 minutes to my morning routine devoted to rubbing my eyes and blinking. March 12th I went to Pearl Vision to order a new box of Maximum Strength contacts, and was told 3-4 days was all it would take before I could sleep in an extra few minutes every morning. A week later I went in, having recieved no phone call, and was told that it was actually 5-7 days for contacts, and I would just have to be patient. 3 days later they were still not in. I went in every 5 days or so just to check, but every time was told to be patient, as it often took more time for lenses with a prescription of my strength.
It has been almost 4 weeks since I ordered them.

They are still not in.

Time Management

Today is my day off, and I plan on having some fun. Here's my to-do list for today:

1. Pay Rent

2. Clean Car

3. Burn CD's for Anthony

4. Laundry

5. Go Shopping

6. Shower

7. Shave

I should point out that the Three-6 Mafia CD's lying around the house are the CD's in #3 - the one's I'm burning for a friend. They don't belong to me, they're his. I don't know anything about them, I swear!

It also occurs to me, only as I'm about to push "Publish," how interesting it is that "Shower" doesn't appear until #6, after I will have done all the things a shower would be useful for.

Cars

Back at the end of January I bought my first car. It's an '89 Toyota Camry that looks a bit like a moose due to the ski rack, which I can only assume was built for industrial-size wrought iron skis, mounted to the top. It's a stickshift too, which presented a few problems when I first got the car, namely that I had no idea how to drive it and a job that requires me to drive about 6 hours a day like a bat outta hell.
I overcame this slightly embarrassing obstacle after a few weeks of apologetic waves and shrugs to other motorists as I jerked, stalled, and over-revved my way across town. Of course once I became comfortable with manual transmission, I enjoyed the comfort and control of being able to resume my wild careening through the ghettos and hoods of central Illinois (of which there are many, and all happen to lie conveniently in my delivery zone). Oh the joy of cutting someone off again, inducing The Finger once more and laughing madly as angry drivers wishing merely to go the speed limit hurled obscenities at my dust trail.

The best part by far about driving a manual is that, more so than control or intimacy with the car (that sounds dirty, but it's really not), is that it makes you feel like A MAN. I deal with this feeling like most men do: pushing the seat back, rolling the windows down, playing music entirely too loud, and mistaking other men's disapproving glares in my direction as acknowledgement that my penis is larger than theirs.
Recently I've taken to driving barefoot, at the suggestion of my mother. Despite my initial skepticism I've found that it really does add to the driving experience, and makes things a lot smoother in a car like my own (not to mention it compounds the MAN factor). So I'd like to take this opportunity to tell her that she was right and that not all her advice goes to waste.

Sangwiches

Where I work, we sell sandwiches. The menu is simple, and for those who freeze up in indecision when looking at our whopping 16 item smorgasboard, there are a few little pictures people can point at and say "What's that one? Yeah, gimme one of those."
Although some customers don't appreciate our sense of humor, (you know, the stiffs who get all ruffled up when you say "later on homes" instead of "thank you very much sir") most people know what they're getting themselves into when they enter the store. And while these ignorant few who come in thinking we'll give service like Olive Garden can be quite a pain, they are more often than not, quite frankly, hilarious.
Some of my favorite memories from the shop are of drive-thru shenanigans, like informing the customer that "I'm sorry we're all out of 'No tomatoes,'" or asking if they want extra tuna on their italian sub. We've been known to tell people who've been standing in line during the lunch rush for 5 minutes that we're closed, only letting them in on the fact that it's all a joke after they've gotten sufficiently flustered and asked to see the manager. (Which wouldn't help anyway, as it's usually the manager messing around in the first place)

Funnier still sometimes, are the customers themselves, even without our impish pranks. My favorite customer-stumper is the Garg. We have a sandwich, the Gargantuan, which lives up to its name, containing enough meat and other fillings between its doughy exterior to feed an entire pro football team. One such story involves an order for a Garg with DOUBLE MEAT in a lettuce wrap.
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't a sanwich with 12 times the normal amount of meat, but in a low-carb wrap seem a little counter-intuitive? My slightly inebriated coworker David sure seemed to think so: he laughed so hard he had to go to the bathroom to throw up.
Perhaps, though, the most enigmatic aspect of the Gargantuan is not it's meaty make-up, but the name itself. Now, I should interject here that my store is located in the heart of the... ahem... poorer and less educated section of town, but even with that knowledge, we like to think our patrons know how to pronounce the sandwich they intend on eating. At least twice a day, someone will order a Garganchew-ON, or a Garganchen. The first time I was on the headset and someone ordered a Garganchew-ON, the conversation went a little like this:

Me: Hi there, what can I do for you?
Customer via Drive-thru: Yeah I need a number 1, a number 4 and a Garganchew-ON.
Me: I'm, sorry I didn't get that last one, what was that?
C: A Garganchew-ON.
Me: One more time please, it's very hard to hear.
C: A Garganchew-ON!
Me: I hate to ask, but I still didn't get that. What was that last one again?
C: Y'all better stop making fun of me or I'm gonna have to come in there!

Now, the first time or two, I really didn't know what he wanted, but by the last one, I admit I just wanted to hear him say it again. My favorite however happened today, when a woman ordered a GarganTuna, and then got angry when she didn't receive tuna on her sub. "I'm sorry," I had to tell her, "but a GARGANTUAN," and I was very emphatic about the pronunciation, "doesn't come with tuna on it."
Later this afternoon, a lady asked for a Ger-ga-tron. Thankfully she didn't put up a fight when she didn't get robots on her sandwich.