I seldom start a day thinking that at a point later in the day I will be standing in an auto shop announcing to several mechanics: “I have to put my hand down my pants…. its not what you think”. Frankly, I’m glad that days do not start like that, or I’d likely spend a great deal of time in bed.
Lets start somewhere near the beginning…
4. When you go buy that new, super-fantastic lens… and you don’t bring your camera with you (idiot) a great photographic opportunity will present itself no less than 5 minutes after leaving the store. Naturally, one the new lens would be perfect for.
A few points I want to make:
Apartments
Odds N’ Ends
If I can get “Haitian Fight Song” by Charles Mingus out of my head I will be happy. Great great song, but its been a soundtrack to my thoughts FOR A WEEK and thats enough! Its been Jazz/Swing month here in my head. Maybe something will come along to replace it…. something with words so I can at least sing along!
So I’m going to A&W with a friend. I have a definite hankering for a Mozza burger (no bacon). Overpriced, certainly not up the the standards of The King… and yet I want one. I pull into the parking lot. On the road where I’d turn into the drive through there is a transit bus. Distracted by the bus (always externalize the blame…) I pull into the parking lot just before the drive through lane. Bah! I u-turn…. come back to the road, and then…. turn into the parking lot just after the drive through lane. Double-bah! My friend thought this was amusing, and deemed it a genuine “MikeMomentTM“. If these are the things that others (and yes, others have…) align with my name… there is trouble ahead.
In case you were wondering, my 3rd attempt at successfully entering the drive through lane was a resounding success!!! 😀
Four words to strike fear into your heart, and sum up the end of my work day:
tongue
envelope
paper-cut
You have no idea.
Some will attest that I am already there. I certainly give ample evidence… I forget things. I stop in the middle of a long yet eloquent sentence and get distracted by a random thought about pickles, buttons on my shirt, or molecules of air wafting through the gap in your teeth, or… well… damnit I forget. Sometimes I can already feel sanity slipping away, not overall, but in a few brief moments where I am caused to wonder if my brain is undergoing liquifaction. It gets slippery in there sometimes. In contrast, there are the moments where I believe myself to be in a room full of the insane. I am the lone competent mind among the throng of rabidly caffinated hordes – all having lost their faculties, or what few they were born with. Granted, the latter tends to occur almost exclusively in retail situations. The horror. The horror.
Last week I wandered into the “Real Canadian Superstore”. The name of this store alone makes me wonder sometimes. It is a giant warehouse full of garish lights, bright colors, and all the ambience of a small closet constructed of burning omlettes. However, their prices are good, and I am loathe to pay 5 bucks for a loaf of bread at UnSafeway (TM) when I can get it at RCS for under 2. I am in the 12 items or less lineup. I like linups even more than I like forgetting 2 of the 3 points I just came up to you to chat about, so the 12 items or less line and I get along nicely. Those “other” linups have people who actually buy a lot of things, and I am not one of those people, nor do I want to be behind those people in line. I’ve got the usual items, plus one item that fits into a new thing im trying. Get your usual stuff (and its VERY usual), but get one item with each trip that you have not tried before. This has been largely successful so far, with a few items that have… well, been interesting. So I am standing there in the linup, kicking my basket of loot along in front of me… and am getting annoyed by the old lady behind me. She is one of those people who will stand RIGHT behind you in a linup. You take a step back even slightly, and you collide with your lineup tailgater. I did this a few times accidentally, where I apologized. Then I did it a few more times on purpose, just a slight step back, a collision. This is usual in linups, not rare enough to gather much attention, not to say I understand. I took note that all this lady was buying was 3 jars of pickles. No name brand pickles. Dill.
This is where my jacket comes in.
Next thing I know – she is rubbing the nail of her index finger on my jacket. Right around my left shoulder blade. I turned around, sort of smiled and asked if there was anything on my jacket. She shook her head and gave a big grin. Whatever… I turned back to the line ahead of me. She did it again. Squip! squip!squipsquipsquipsquipsquipsquip… I asked her to stop, at which point she smiled and redoubled her efforts. I asked the woman behind her if she was with her, and alas, the JacketPicker(TM) was acting alone. The woman behind her asked her to leave me alone but alas, this also had no effect. All queries into the behavior resulted in a redoubling of her efforts and a big big smile. Perhaps there is a lesson in that smile – crazy is not necessarily unhappy. So we ignored her. Squip squip squipsquipsquipsquipsquipsquip… Sigh… at least she wasn’t hitting me.
Life has a way of reminding you what you are forgetting. Sometimes it comes in the form of a harsh kick in the ass, sometimes it is gentle. A reminder that Im not really that crazy at all was fairly subtle – Im not picking at other people’s jackets just yet. I do buy pickles though. Dill pickles. Hmmm….
Looking for apartments always sucks. It always has for me at least. After the initial pay off of actually finding a habitable place, one has the joy of packing, moving, and then unpacking. There are just so many ads that sound promising, but in reality they are dirt infested rat holes. Sometimes literally. So I’ve come across a great number of crappy places to live over the years, but its important to realize that even when you get a good first impression, that can turn quickly towards the strange and bizarre as well.
So I’m looking at this apartment thats being sublet or something. Its nice – its not huge, but I’m used to living in a storage closet anyway, so no big deal. Bachelor – why would I need a separate bedroom? Kitchen with appliances that are not avocado or gold in color (unlike my last two places). White or cream would be nice. The 70’s are over. No, really. While I may be a product of the 70’s, this doesn’t mean I identify with those years, or the silly pants. The woman showing it appears nice. I check out the cable and phone lines – quite often they are not there even though they are advertised. They are there. Not that I think I’d use a phone line – its the cell phone age now, and why pay Telus 40 bucks a month for the few calls I make when I can use my cell (currently 10 bucks a month or so… but I also don’t use it for calls often yet). She asks why Im checking out how many cable lines there are… I respond “Need one for the tv and the other for the internet”. Then all hell breaks loose. Internet = faux pas.
“WHAT!!!!! You can’t have internet in here!”
Naturally, I’m puzzled… and she was angry, I don’t mean angry like someone just set fire to your waffle, I mean ANGRY like someone just insulted every guiding principle in your life – like your love of pickles or something. You know, the serious stuff.
“I need the internet – I communicate with some friends, do research and I build websites – sometimes for money!.”
No!!!! The internet is for pornography and horrible videos of people dying”
She got off on a really good rant too – I was almost proud of her – it was a truly great rant. One of those things that is a shame to not have recorded. She did it with hand waving, however, but I give those points back for the lack of spitting. Or foaming, though it would have been situationally appropriate in her state of mind..
So what did we learn?
At any rate, after all this was over and my counterargument sort of fizzled (major tactical error in remarking on how I have never build a pornography website – despite having the opportunity on occasion)… I was ushered out of the apartment. What happens to the next guy or gal who doesn’t happen to scrutinize the locations of the cable outlets? What if they move in without suffering the joys of the Anti Internet Neo-Luddite Brigade (AINLB) rantings? Can you imagine what it would be like if she caught you hooking up the internet. Could be a very interesting 911 call.
I have to go, my waffle is still on fire.
