all the people stared as if we were both quite insane
my word, i just can't win for losing today, and cel phones will be the death of me.
today was a lot... went to a party yesterday, as noted below, and might have had a drink, or, perhaps, two. getting up at 714 (see blog about the microwave and numbers in sequence...) was quite a 'challenge' as we say at big brother. (there are no 'problems' to be 'solved' at big brother, there are 'situations' that need to be 'brought to the table' to so that the 'group' can 'partner' and 'digest' and 'coach' each other, but this is not a big brother entry.) anyway, was quite hung this morning and over-caffeinated and by the time i got to mancat's, i was going a million miles a minute with a smashing headache: i thought my heart was going to pounce out of my chest at the breeder-wedding we attended. (funny, whores do sweat in church, by the way.) the ceremony was a full mass, almost two hours from beginning to end, and i thought i was going to lose it. it was in staten, but the reception involved my passport and a visa and planes, trains, and automobiles.
sadly, the breeder-fest reception didn't involve a venus de milo ice sculpture as i'd previously thought... but it was right nice, i have to say. found it insanely odd that as the bride is from a traditional indian family, the only entrees were beef, chicken, and salmon.
'and you sir?'
'what do you have for vegetarians?' [how presumptuous.]
'yes yes we have vegetarian.'
'vegetarian what?'
'ees, um, vegetables vegetarian.'
[food allergies be damned, i'm living on the edge!] 'it sounds wonderful. thank you.'
and anything deeply-fried with cheese and tomato sauce is a good time, especially with red wine aplenty, though they abruptly cut me off at 5.04: it would seem that the reception was from 1 to 5, only, and that asking for an afternooncap at 5.04 was an imposition. whatever. girlfriend hooked me up and i chugged like a champ: they wanted us out, and they weren't kidding. next breeder-fest began in t-minus...
got back to new jack and was on the way back out of it in no time at all: time to get the hell out of the city and enjoy the seasons and all that my dogs have to offer. so, i threw some stuff in a bag and i'm ready to start the summer of '06. well, not exactly 'start,' per se, as i was on the island for memorial day, but somehow may isn't summer: add that to my list of mental instabilities, feel free to mock me at will. this was the first weekend i could break out of new jack and took the opportunity to do so.
so i am in my l. i. r. r. patented waiting spot in front of kmart, where they had the good sense of putting one of the track-notification boards for the trains, and along comes this trainwreck on a cel: typical long island white trash with nails and hair done to full 'splendor,' with 'perfume' emanating from every orifice. when she started shouting into her phone, i stared blatantly to make my point.
'no peter told me that the d.w.i. isn't a big deal and i told him it's gonna be a big deal when i have to cart his ass back and forth to work and i can't do that and get to work on time and he told me that i need to relax and i said he can relax when he comes up with the'
now, i hate people on cel phones in public. yes, i can be one of them, we all can be, but i will go out of my way to nudge some asshole on a cel as s/he vacantly weaves back and forth on the sidewalk just to make my point: public cel phone-ing is for quick plan solidification and such, not for intimate diatribes, as i am of the mindset that said conversations should be reserved for home, not the sidewalk or the park or in front of kmart.
'what the hell are you looking at?'
'oh, i want to know what peter said. so tell me, what did peter say?'
penn is crawling with cops, and i could take her on anyway.
'what the fuck? fuck you. don't be listening to my conversation.'
'no, really, you've made your empty conversation my business, and now i want to know how it ends. what did peter say?'
she flipped me off and walked away with a noticeably hushed tone.
one for the home team.
get on the train, karma you bitch, and as it gets moving, the samoan in the next seat feels the need to have a conversation with his father on speakerphone with his ladyfriend. (she MUST be hired help; he's heinous and she's redeemable.) i just stopped listening and started tapping my shoes loudly and obnoxiously and started whistling and humming to my itunes. who's a bigger asshole? it's up for debate.
going to hell, la ti daaaaa.....
today was a lot... went to a party yesterday, as noted below, and might have had a drink, or, perhaps, two. getting up at 714 (see blog about the microwave and numbers in sequence...) was quite a 'challenge' as we say at big brother. (there are no 'problems' to be 'solved' at big brother, there are 'situations' that need to be 'brought to the table' to so that the 'group' can 'partner' and 'digest' and 'coach' each other, but this is not a big brother entry.) anyway, was quite hung this morning and over-caffeinated and by the time i got to mancat's, i was going a million miles a minute with a smashing headache: i thought my heart was going to pounce out of my chest at the breeder-wedding we attended. (funny, whores do sweat in church, by the way.) the ceremony was a full mass, almost two hours from beginning to end, and i thought i was going to lose it. it was in staten, but the reception involved my passport and a visa and planes, trains, and automobiles.
sadly, the breeder-fest reception didn't involve a venus de milo ice sculpture as i'd previously thought... but it was right nice, i have to say. found it insanely odd that as the bride is from a traditional indian family, the only entrees were beef, chicken, and salmon.
'and you sir?'
'what do you have for vegetarians?' [how presumptuous.]
'yes yes we have vegetarian.'
'vegetarian what?'
'ees, um, vegetables vegetarian.'
[food allergies be damned, i'm living on the edge!] 'it sounds wonderful. thank you.'
and anything deeply-fried with cheese and tomato sauce is a good time, especially with red wine aplenty, though they abruptly cut me off at 5.04: it would seem that the reception was from 1 to 5, only, and that asking for an afternooncap at 5.04 was an imposition. whatever. girlfriend hooked me up and i chugged like a champ: they wanted us out, and they weren't kidding. next breeder-fest began in t-minus...
got back to new jack and was on the way back out of it in no time at all: time to get the hell out of the city and enjoy the seasons and all that my dogs have to offer. so, i threw some stuff in a bag and i'm ready to start the summer of '06. well, not exactly 'start,' per se, as i was on the island for memorial day, but somehow may isn't summer: add that to my list of mental instabilities, feel free to mock me at will. this was the first weekend i could break out of new jack and took the opportunity to do so.
so i am in my l. i. r. r. patented waiting spot in front of kmart, where they had the good sense of putting one of the track-notification boards for the trains, and along comes this trainwreck on a cel: typical long island white trash with nails and hair done to full 'splendor,' with 'perfume' emanating from every orifice. when she started shouting into her phone, i stared blatantly to make my point.
'no peter told me that the d.w.i. isn't a big deal and i told him it's gonna be a big deal when i have to cart his ass back and forth to work and i can't do that and get to work on time and he told me that i need to relax and i said he can relax when he comes up with the'
now, i hate people on cel phones in public. yes, i can be one of them, we all can be, but i will go out of my way to nudge some asshole on a cel as s/he vacantly weaves back and forth on the sidewalk just to make my point: public cel phone-ing is for quick plan solidification and such, not for intimate diatribes, as i am of the mindset that said conversations should be reserved for home, not the sidewalk or the park or in front of kmart.
'what the hell are you looking at?'
'oh, i want to know what peter said. so tell me, what did peter say?'
penn is crawling with cops, and i could take her on anyway.
'what the fuck? fuck you. don't be listening to my conversation.'
'no, really, you've made your empty conversation my business, and now i want to know how it ends. what did peter say?'
she flipped me off and walked away with a noticeably hushed tone.
one for the home team.
get on the train, karma you bitch, and as it gets moving, the samoan in the next seat feels the need to have a conversation with his father on speakerphone with his ladyfriend. (she MUST be hired help; he's heinous and she's redeemable.) i just stopped listening and started tapping my shoes loudly and obnoxiously and started whistling and humming to my itunes. who's a bigger asshole? it's up for debate.
going to hell, la ti daaaaa.....
posted by tom at 1:38 AM
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