Artful Scheme of Happiness: 04/01/2003

Tuesday, April 29, 2003

Memory Lane

I saw today on Entertainment Tonight that the Golden Girls recently got together to film some sort of reunion show for Lifetime. (Unfortunately for everyone, but especially for me, Estelle Getty couldn't be a part of the reunion due to her Parkinson's and potential Alzheimer's diseases. Rumor has it that Sissy Spacek has taken her place in the cast.)

So anyhooters, it got me to thinking about how much I love the Golden Girls, and how, when I was in college, I used to force my girlfriend (my last girlfriend ever) to watch it every single Saturday night. She'd be dying to go out, and I'd be dying to stay in until the show ended at 8:30. (Anyone from Wisconsin knows that 8:30 is a rather late start for partying.)

Aahhh ... say it with me ... good times, good times.

Sigh

At what point do you get to start complaining about how much you hate your job? Me, I've not quite made it a week.

Sunday, April 27, 2003

The Sunlight Tires Me

Today was a glorious day, and do you know what I love to do most on beautiful, sunny, warm & flowery days? Take long naps with my bedroom window wide open.

Friday, April 25, 2003

It's Raining Flower Petals Under A Bright Blue Sky

I'm home from work today because of a slight snafu with the computers at work. I'm enjoying some coffee. Enjoying it because it lacks the vaguely burnt taste of work coffee. The old, familiar world outside of my bedroom window is now burgeoning with lilacs and bright green leaves.

It's SO NICE to have a day off once in a while.

Tuesday, April 22, 2003

Why I Am A Nerd

My sister spilled the beans. I have a job, and it started today. That's why I had to scramble back to Seattle. I feel bad about missing everyone at home, but the almighty dollar beckons, and I come a-flyin'. I can't say what I do specifically because it's privileged information (really -- attorney/client privilege). I can say that I'm a document review attorney at Preston Gates & Ellis. I can also say that I was sitting two offices down from Bill Gates, Sr., today, just vibrating with the dream of racing into his conference room and begging him for a couple of mil.

But, since none of this is inherently interesting or funny, I didn't mention it before. (Well, being snatched from the jaws of Debtors' Prison is sort of interesting. But I digress.) What I would like to mention, though, is today's bus ride from nerd hell.

My bus comes at 7:20, and I only live 2 1/2 short blocks from the stop (no traffic lights in my way!). So I saunter out the door, into the cool and misty morning, at 7:15. There's a smile on my face and promise in the air. My first real job in the new millennium! I leisurely reach into my pants for the requisite $1.50, just to be prepared. I straighten my dollar so it will slide into the machine easily. I round the corner and pick up the pace, eager to arrive at my stop on time. Then, as they say, Things Fall Apart.

I notice my reflection in a dirty motel window and realize, to my neverending dismay, that the BRAND NEW pants I am wearing have somehow, after one washing, become highwaters. I look up, horrified at the idea of looking like an utter dork on the first day, to see that my bus has appeared at the stop out of nowhere. So I start running. Here I am, with one-half block to go, running down the busy street in my short pants and dress shoes, arms out at my sides to keep from slipping on the glistening sidewalks, clutching my bus money and trying to keep my bag from flying off of me. The bus driver sees me, I am saved! The bus driver laughs and drives away. I am lost. Everyone at the bus stop is staring at me. I am sad.

Things I learned about the bus: Another one comes every ten minutes during rush hour. Every single person at the bus stop has had to run for it at least once in their lives. Even if you're in highwaters, you're still better dressed than most people there. If someone stinks of alcohol at 7:30 in the morning, NEVER sit next to him. And it's nice to start the day with a neatly straightened dollar bill.

Sunday, April 20, 2003

Three Flights
or, Why Did I Go Home?

On Thursday night/Friday morning, I took the red eye from Seattle to Minneapolis. It was a horrible experience. I sat next to an ancient woman who enjoyed throwing random, uninteresting facts my way. Tidbits such as: "I am 100% German, but I never make German potato salad;" "My identical twin aunts are turning 102 this weekend;" and "I'm flying to Minneapolis to visit my son, who just had his liver and kidneys replaced." (The interesting thing was that she let these things slip not to start a conversation with me, but just to LET ME KNOW.)

On Saturday afternoon, I flew from Minneapolis to Chicago. The plane bounced up and down like a roller coaster, and I clenched my teeth the entire time.

On Sunday afternoon, I flew from Chicago to Seattle. Not one single person ever mentioned that it was Easter. No eggs, no chocolates, no bunnie rabbits or little girls in Easter bonnets. Only one very sad turkey sandwich with that strange mayo/mustard combo you only ever find on airplanes.

It's good to be back again, after such a long and stressful vacation.

Thursday, April 17, 2003

If I were a betting man...

I'm leaving on a jet plane today, and honestly, I don't exactly know when I'll be back again (I have an idea, but it's subject to change)... so I think I'll go out and run around the lake before I go. You know, to try and work the jims out of my legs before I get on the plane. (The purest form of torture -- heinous cruelty -- is to make a tall man sit on an airplane for more than twenty minutes. The horror!)

But there's a hitch in my giddy-up. The ten cups of coffee I drank this morning aren't sitting so well on the flax seeds and toast I had for breakfast. So I'm taking bets to see how many times, in my four-mile adventure, I have to stop to throw up.

My estimate: Three dry heaves and one actual technicolor yawn.

I'll let you know what happens.

Tuesday, April 15, 2003

Penny For Your Thoughts

Today is a beautiful day in Seattle. Sunny, 60's, all the flowers one could hope for, and pregnant ducks aplenty. So I thought I'd get out and go for a run around Greenlake.

As you know, my run is actually more of a run/walk/stagger/pant/jog/stagger/rest/walk than anything else. I like to think of it as a comedy of errors (not to mention a comedy of extreme physical pain). To add to the poignancy, today I wore a T-shirt that says "Oshkosh North High School Cross Country 1988." (I stole this from a former girlfriend, but that doesn't stop people from thinking, when they see the winged foot emblazoned across the chest, that I was a cross-country star in high school.)

So, I was thinking, what do people think when they see this middle-aged track star panting around the lake for three miles? Today's possibilities:

"A lobotomy two weeks ago and already this dedicated man is running again?" OR

"Uh oh, Hans over there has betrayed the German army, and now he's being hunted down by dachshunds and schnauzers! Run, Hans, run to freedom!")

Monday, April 14, 2003

My Hair: The Ongoing Saga
Deutschland Uber Alles

I look like a member of a German paramilitary organization. And not just any member, no. I look like the most sinister member. How do I know this? Because minorities SCATTER when they see me tromping down the street.

Or, I look like I had a frontal lobotomy just two weeks ago. They only shaved one half of the front of my head, because with those amazing fiber-optic doo-bobs they have nowadays, they don't have to shave the whole head. Just part of it. Which is nice as far as scarring is concerned, but it's hell on your appearance.

Do I want my hair to look this way? No. Do I go in to the stylist and say, "Just do whatever you think will most detract from my appearance?" No. Do I tip well? Yes. Do I talk constantly while the stylist is working, distracting her from the task at hand? Well, that depends on how much coffee I've had, but generally, NO.

It's so unfair.

The Insanity With Which I Live

My roommate decided the other day that he was craving some good, old-fashioned rice krispie squares. But, being the processed food-/chemical-phobe that he is, he thought it would be best to make them out of organic puffed rice and homemade marshmallows.

Now, I don't know if you've ever made marshmallows before, but it's not easy. It SEEMS like it might be easy, since they're only made out of sugar, water and gelatin. But getting them to the right consistency, without the aid of a candy thermometer, is next to impossible. My roommate never got them to the right consistency. He was pressed for time (we were supposed to go on a hike, and he only alotted two (TWO) minutes for this whole entire task), so he just whisked in the butter, added the HIGHLY ABSORBENT organic puffed rice, and stirred.

I can hardly express to you the myriad ways in which this experiment went awry. But imagine, if you will, a bowl of super-saturated sugar water mixed with a bowl of highly absorbent puffed rice. Just imagine all the things that could go wrong.

My roommate is still craving good, old-fashioned rice krispie squares, in case you're interested.

Thursday, April 10, 2003

Crazy as the rest of them

The weather keeps going from sunny and blue to gray and wet, in a matter of hours. I feel like I'm back in the 'hood.

Speaking of, I'm going to Oshkosh after Easter! So yay for me!

Tuesday, April 08, 2003

Polling Place

Sometimes I like to go and vote in the Oshkosh People's Poll, just because one of the current choices is "worst than I expected." Please, come and celebrate illiteracy with me. You'll enjoy it.

Sunday, April 06, 2003

Go right ahead, Ma'am. Oh, FYI, that cat is rabid.

I was walking out the door today to take my morning constitutional, as I am wont to do each afternoon, when some overly friendly woman in a multicolored felt hat shouted at me from the sidewalk, "Oh HI! Can I pet your cat?" (For a second I thought she was coming on to me.) Of course, she asked this AS she was petting the cat, so what can I do, say "No?"

Instead I said, truthfully, "Well, sure, but it's not my cat." Then I laughed.

Saturday, April 05, 2003

Happy Birthday!

Today is the 150th birthday of Oshkosh, Wisconsin. So let's all have a moment of silence.

***

Happy 150th, Oshkosh! (Have you thought at all about a facelift?)

Thursday, April 03, 2003

The Rejection Waltz

You know, I'm a big boy now. I wouldn't mind it if you said, "We received your resume and had the best laugh that we've had in AGES. Thank you, and NO." Instead, you say, "We'll keep your resume on file for future consideration." Is that honest? We both know it's not. We both know you looked at it, sighed, stretched your arms over your head and then pushed DELETE.

Now, we all know you're just trying to avoid pissing me off, in the hopes that WHEN I become a very rich and powerful attorney, I won't bear you any sort of lasting grudge. (Dorsey & Whitney, are you listening?) But there are ways to do it without pretending that I'm the best thing that you've ever had the misfortune to pass up.

You know, if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a dishonest lawyer.

Wednesday, April 02, 2003

Things To Do

If you're ever bored or sick of worrying about your one gray hair, and you feel like you need something to lift your spirits, you can hop on over to The Plug. A dash of Spy, a pinch of The Onion, a teaspoon of Letters from a Nut, and a level cup of irrepressible youth. It never fails to make me chortle.

The Plug, recommended by old, overeducated, gray-haired arracheurs des palissades everywhere.

Tuesday, April 01, 2003

Aging, Gracefully

Today, I am a man. An old man. I found my first gray hair.

I hope that I turn out to look like Anderson Cooper. I fear that I will in fact turn out to look like Ted Knight. Either way, I'll have my hair! Beautiful, steel-grey hair. Ahhh.

Artful Scheme of Happiness