Willie's Off-Brand Web Journal: August 17-August 23, 2003
Thursday, August 21, 2003:
Tim called me the other night to tell me about the "excitement" that occurred after my friends and I left his party on Saturday. I guessed he was referring to the arrival of the cops, which we'd seen as we pulled away, but Tim said that was no big deal, and they just got a warning about the noise. Turns out, at about 3 AM, Tim decided he'd had enough of sipping mint juleps and hosting round table discussions about the literary influence of the Bloomsbury Group, so he went upstairs to get ready for bed. As he wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water, he noticed something odd.
Namely, a bat. In his kitchen. A bat.
To hear Tim tell it, he didn't have the windows open in his kitchen or anything, so how the bat got in is a bit of a mystery, but Tim understandably freaked: "I hate bugs, and as Calvin taught me, bats are basically just giant bugs, so I ran back downstairs and told everyone." I've just realized that the story gets less interesting from here (eventually, Tim's housemate, Adam, chased the bat into the bathroom, spent about ten minutes calming it down, grabbed it and then let it go outside), but the point is, there was a friggin' bat in his kitchen! How'd that happen?
I got a new car yesterday. It's a Saturn Ion, and it's green and has an awesome stereo, and those are all the features on the car I really care about. Some of my friends have asked me distressingly specific questions about it, using words like quad and coupe that I don't understand, and I've been able to respond only by basically saying, "Vroom! Vroom!" because I have no idea what they're talking about. Cool though the car is, it's still just a car. I think of it much like an elevator: a means of getting from one point to another without harming me or others. I don't feel a need to understand the elevator's inner workings, I don't have any inclination to memorize (or discuss) its weight capacity or the manufacturer of the "door open" mechanism- if I can operate it, I'm happy.
That said, I do want to name the car, because I like naming things. At work, Jon pointed out that most cars wind up with girls' names because men tend to fetishize them, and we thought it'd be funny if I gave the Ion a big, buff guy's name like "Chet." But then I thought that I'd try to work the word Pimpmobile in there somewhere, because that's funny too. Or the name of a random celebrity. (It might be fun to be able to truthfully say, for example, "I took Bridget Moynahan out for a drive this weekend"...) And for some reason, the name "Hobo Stu" keeps coming back to me as a good idea... I'd welcome anyone's suggestions.
CURRENT MUSIC: Holiday by the
CURRENT MOOD: Sweaty.
CURRENT QUANDRY: Do I purchase the Mr. Show season three and Simpsons season three DVDs next Tuesday, the instant they're released, or do I wait until Thursday, when my Media Play rewards coupons kick in? Immediate gratification is awfully tempting, but the promise of extra Media Play bucks down the line is, too...
TIME: 10:48 PM.
Doot? | |
Sunday, August 17, 2003:
I went out to dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings last night with Erica, Aimee, Lorenzo, and Erica's sister, Andrea. The restaurant didn't really seem sure of its own identity: whether it wanted to be a chicken place or a Mexican restaurant, a sports bar or a family feedbag. They had big screen TVs on which you could watch the Lions lose, arcade games for the kiddies (and some kitschy ones like Ms. Pac-Man for cynical members of Generation X), uncomfortable wooden benches in the booths that forced you to sit at a right angle, and those annoying trivia games on smaller TV screens that no one ever seems to play. An odd atmosphere. Good cheez stix, though.
While we all ate, we decided, on a whim, to go to a party my brother was throwing at the house he shares with five other guys in Ann Arbor. (The unofficial theme of the party was "We Get a Noise Violation Every Time We Have a Party, So Let's Earn It This Time.") Strangely, I remember very little of what we discussed on the drive up there, except that I went off on a bizarre, unmotivated rant about the CIA. It must be fun to be my friend.
Tim's place was fairly packed by the time we arrived, and most of the party was concentrated in the basement, which Tim proudly explained to me had actually been cleaned for the event. Irritating hip-hop (heavy on Lil' Kim and 50 Cent) blared from all the speakers, but I couldn't locate the central stereo from which the sound was coming so that I might amend things. Several tables were set up for drinking games such as FlipCup (a drinking relay race, basically) and Beer Pong (king of like a ring toss, where you toss a ping-pong ball into a full cup of beer, which then gets consumed). Tim then showed me his private stash of Jell-O shots, which I quickly discovered are impossible to consume in a dignified fashion. Everyone at the party was also given candy necklaces to wear, so that attractive members of your preferred gender might eat them off your neck in a playful, "sexy" fashion. Lorenzo and I, realists both, ate our own necklaces.
At one point, Andrea and I were introducing ourselves to some friendly, frattish guys in the kitchen, when two of them launched into a joke that you could tell they'd told a million times and laughed at every time. One of them said, "So, Mike, I hear you're hung like a newborn!"
To which Mike replied, "Yup! 22 inches and six pounds!" and they all giggled.
I felt compelled to add, "...And covered with blood." This sparked a round of congratulatory handshakes and approving "Aww man"s. Sadly, that was the most pride I'd felt in a long time.
We all finally got to meet Erica's boyfriend, Hugh, who is getting his Ph.D. in Bewildering Science at the University of Michigan. He seemed like a nice guy. Do you remember, in the first American Pie, that one Asian kid who was drunkenly staring at a portrait of Stiffler's mom and shouting, "MILF! MILF!" over and over? (If you do, my condolences.) Anyway, Hugh reminded me of that guy for no good reason.
Nice, gently funny moment from the blackout a few days ago: I was reading the newspaper and snacking on Cheez-Its, and my mom was idly staring out the window and snacking on Better Cheddars. Suddenly, she yelled, "Ha!" and pointed to a big, blue emblem on the Better Cheddars box that read, "Preferred Over Regular Cheez-It!"
"Does your box have a rebuttal?" she asked.
Sure enough, the back of the Cheez-It box bore a big, blue emblem that proudly boasted, "America's #1 Brand Cheese Cracker." So I think I won the battle.
CURRENT MUSIC: The Age of Plastic by the Buggles.
CURRENT MOOD: Wanting to just lounge around in my sleep clothes all day, watching Futurama DVD commentaries. My plan's working so far.
RANDOM PERFECT STRANGERS LINE THAT POPPED INTO MY HEAD WHILE WRITING THIS ENTRY: "Balki, I'm a realist. A realist who is freezing his buns off."
TIME: 2:50 PM
Doot? | |
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May 3, 2003-May
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2003. June 1-June
7, 2003. June
8-June 13, 2003.
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22-July 1, 2003.
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14-July 20, 2003.
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