smooth operator

I just hung up the phone after being on hold. As I waited I tried to figure the origin of the elevator instrumental meant to keep me entertained while a recording continually interrupted to remind me that all operators were currently assisting other callers. Then it dawned on me that the song playing was Sade's Smooth Operator. Despite the smoothness that they boasted, I hung up when the next song began.

waiting at kroger deli

Mother to Daughter: If you don't stop whining right now I'm going to beat you. And, then I'll go to jail because all of these people are watching. But, I'm going to do it anyway. Are you listening to me?

almost exciting

Today has already been almost exciting and it's barely past noon. I got a call about a potential job from my coroflot.com account. I'm not in dire need of a job just yet, but I'm flattered that someone liked my credentials enough to call me on the phone to learn more. But, then I found out that it would be for web production work. This would be fine, to pay the bills, but it would be in Columbus, which is two hours north. If there were any other reason to move to Columbus, I might consider it. But this job is not worth the transplant. And, I forgot to mention that this is an in-house job for Abercrombie & Fitch Inc. Looking past my loathing of this company, I've known friends who've worked there. From their stories, it's not the kind of company where I'd like to work. I am flattered though.

More exciting, I found a gun. I was jogging near my apartment, and lying in the grass by the sidewalk, glistening in the sun was a shiny black and chrome hand-gun. I'd like to believe it was tossed out a rubber-burning sports car fleeing the scene of an armed robbery. I jogged home to grab my phone and a towel to cover my hand as I poked it around. I wanted to make sure it wasn't fake before I bothered the police to come out. I walked back to the yard where I saw it, and the yard next to it, and all along the block. But it was gone.

I was very disapointed. I've never needed to call the police for any reason. I could have been the meddling do-gooder that lead to the capture and conviction of dangerous criminals. But, alas I was too slow. Instead of me, the gun was probably recovered by a curious teenager who will use it to accidentaly shoot every kid at his school.

fell out of a moving vehicle

I want to write about current happenings, but currently there's not much happening to me. So, just to give a little momentum to this thing, I might as well use one of the older stories I have lying around.

When I was little I hated to wear seat belts, or at least loved the rare luxury of not wearing one. It didn't happen very often at all. The best was when we got to ride in the way-back of the station wagon and roll around as my mom turned corners or hit bumps. One day my Aunt Sharon picked me up to spend the day playing with my cousins. I begged my mom to let us ride uninhibited, and she actually said yes.

We probably would have run around the overgrown empty lot next to their house and/or worn construction paper mustaches to pretend we were fire cheifs. But we didn't get around to it that day. As we pulled onto their street I leaned against the door that was apparantly unlatched and fell right out. I landed on my butt and the door bounced back and caught my foot. My aunt, unaware, kept driving.

After being drug for several yards my foot came loose and I sat dazed in the middle of the street and watched the car continue to pull away. When I figured out where I was, I hobbled over to the sidewalk. I knew I wasn't allowed to play in the street. When my cousin Emily got Aunt Sharon's attention, "Mom. Mom, Andy fell out of the car," she hit the brakes and turned around to pick me up.

Before I really knew what had happend I was soaking in a hot bath, and removing bits of asphalt from my ass cheeks. I think my Aunt took it much worse than I did. I bounced back pretty well. No scars, at least that I can see. I haven't had anyone to examine it lately.

cockroaches

My apartment has cockroaches. I don't really want people to know that. But it's not my fault. They were here long before I moved in. I'll never accept it, but I have grown weary of running to crush every apearance of the small brown bugs.

Most people imagine cockroaches as big black oval-shaped, but those are actually outdoor wood roaches, and from what I understand they don't infest houses. The ones you have to worry about are small, thin, and light brown. Maybe less intimidating but no less disgusting. I just keep telling myself that I'm moving out in less than a month.

They crawl around my counters, sinks, cupboards, and very recently they've been sneaking through a small crack into my refridgerator. Which is really pretty stupid, because the cold seems to paralyze them before they get a chance to get into my leftover pasta. I find them all over. One time I opened up my medicine cabinet and found one perched on my toothbrush. I even had one living inside the keyboard that I'm typing on right now. He liked to hang out under the number pad. Once in a while I would hit a key and see him run out and then under another key. But, I couldn't shake him out.

They're durable little buggers too. On my trip to visit my brother in LA one stowed away in my suitcase. That doesn't seem like much of a feat, until you consider that the luggage departments are probably not heated or pressurized. It get's pretty cold and oxygen is sparse at 45000 feet. A few days ago I washed a load of laundry, and afterward found a very clean looking roach running around inside. Somehow he survived the wash, rinse, and spin cycle.

Scientist say that cockroaches will still be around long after were gone. My sympathy goes to the next tennant of this crap-hole. I'm gone August 1st. But, I have a feeling these roaches will be plaguing this place long after then. Addios la cucaracha.

mission statement

I'm not completely sure yet how I want to use this blog. My purpose is less to communicate with you (my non-existent readers), and more to develop my writing skills. I'll probably write about movies I've seen, conversations I've overheard, and secrets of national importance.

As I'm typing this I'm becoming very aware of my dependence on spell check and those little squiggly red lines that tell you not to be an idiot. Depending on my insecurity level, I might begin to type this in another program and paste into this box.

One subject I'll commit to not writing about is my personal goals. These are often lofty, uninteresting, and depressing to look back on. And as this paragraph is violating it's own premise, I might as well also write that I plan to not put this off until just before bed, when I'm likely to be even more tired and boring than usual. I do not promise not to ramble. I plan to do quite a lot of that.

If you'd like to be bored regularly, please check this site often.