state of love and laziness
The plan was to go home and get some work done, but the reality turned into watching A Day Without a Mexican and Garden State, both of which I'd seen already. Then was a long hard look at my fantasy baseball team, which is on a modest hot streak at the moment, and I'd really like to keep it going. I tweaked, eyed stats, wasted time. Now it's almost 4am and I'm putting off going to bed by writing up this thing.
I'll work tomorrow. I will. I've been on a bit of a roll at the office, which isn't easy. It takes a lot of concentration to get work done there with all the distractions and the phone calls and the e-mails and the "oh yeah, I'll get to that right away"s.
I went to an In-N-Out, which is the most unoffensive fast food restaurant imaginable, and realized that I have a growing love affair with onions. They've replaced garlic as my bulbous food accent of choice. The burger I bought was covered in crisp, crunchy onions, and it was very, very good. I was able to relate stories from my train ride across country with a couple of friends. I'll probably type those up soon. I just have to remember. There was a swanky ATM by the door that I had to use because In-N-Out didn't take plastic. Buttons lit up and it made bleeping and booping noises and basically reminded me of a slot machine that always paid out. I'd never seen an ATM like this before, and I figured this must be the new generation of such devices. I thought I'd seen a glimpse of the future, so I had to ask, "Is that ATM new?" when I got back to the register. The somewhat over-it-but-trying-to-be-a-good-employee employee said simply, "no. We've had it for a few months." Totally ruined it, dude. Thanks for nothing.
I'll work tomorrow. I will. I've been on a bit of a roll at the office, which isn't easy. It takes a lot of concentration to get work done there with all the distractions and the phone calls and the e-mails and the "oh yeah, I'll get to that right away"s.
I went to an In-N-Out, which is the most unoffensive fast food restaurant imaginable, and realized that I have a growing love affair with onions. They've replaced garlic as my bulbous food accent of choice. The burger I bought was covered in crisp, crunchy onions, and it was very, very good. I was able to relate stories from my train ride across country with a couple of friends. I'll probably type those up soon. I just have to remember. There was a swanky ATM by the door that I had to use because In-N-Out didn't take plastic. Buttons lit up and it made bleeping and booping noises and basically reminded me of a slot machine that always paid out. I'd never seen an ATM like this before, and I figured this must be the new generation of such devices. I thought I'd seen a glimpse of the future, so I had to ask, "Is that ATM new?" when I got back to the register. The somewhat over-it-but-trying-to-be-a-good-employee employee said simply, "no. We've had it for a few months." Totally ruined it, dude. Thanks for nothing.
Krisily Kennedy helped make Tuesday bearable by entrenching herself as my obligatory fantasy woman of the day. Carrying over my beer-soaked emotional attachment from the previous night's episode of The Bachelor, I took breaks from my busy work to find out that Ms. Kennedy, in addition to holding a firm grasp on my fickle affections, used to work for a New England sports channel and was Miss Rhode Island in 2003. If she turns out to be next season's Bachelorette, I'll probably watch and pine and pick apart the losers vying for her tulips, because I'm sad like that and I really don't have anything better to do. Unless of course I forget or have moved on to the next empty, hapless crush that sustains me enough so I don't have to put in the work to find a real relationship. I mean, those suck anyway.
I did do something for work this evening, though. It wasn't difficult, but no less painful. I watched a city council meeting, because I'd sent a writer to it so we can publish a story on it. I sent him because I'm the editor and I can send writers to do things that I don't want to do; but when I saw that it was televised, I decided that it was only fair to share some of his pain as I flipped back and forth between that and the Oakland A's game. City council meetings in this city is like well, watching a small city's city council meeting. They discuss things like parking meters, whether they should be a quarter or not and whether they should now charge for Saturdays. But they don't just discuss these things and move on. No. They argue and ask the same questions and reiterate the same answers over and over again. The parking debate was especially scintilating and lasted well over an hour.
There's this one city councilman who I particularly hate. I don't like most of them, because they're all a bunch of redneck good ol' boys (the fucking mayor once referred to the rise of the Latino population as "the browning" of the region (I have it on tape.) at a public address), but there's one in particular that I actually have a seething dislike for. I know he had to push kids around on the school playground, had sex with seriously drunk girls after they were passed out and without their knowledge or something equally vile and other things that are not-quite-but-probably-should-be criminal. He's a douche bag, simply put. He snapped at some old woman today, who's probably someone's great grandma, like she was an ignorant child just because she disagreed with him. It's what I would expect from him, and granted, the poem she read to illustrate her point (seriously, a poem...who does that?) at the fucking city council meeting was really lame, but the elderly should be allowed to be lame. She should also be allowed to kick that useless, no good, miserable fuckwad in the balls for being treated like that, by a public official no less. If he had any balls, of course.
I did do something for work this evening, though. It wasn't difficult, but no less painful. I watched a city council meeting, because I'd sent a writer to it so we can publish a story on it. I sent him because I'm the editor and I can send writers to do things that I don't want to do; but when I saw that it was televised, I decided that it was only fair to share some of his pain as I flipped back and forth between that and the Oakland A's game. City council meetings in this city is like well, watching a small city's city council meeting. They discuss things like parking meters, whether they should be a quarter or not and whether they should now charge for Saturdays. But they don't just discuss these things and move on. No. They argue and ask the same questions and reiterate the same answers over and over again. The parking debate was especially scintilating and lasted well over an hour.
There's this one city councilman who I particularly hate. I don't like most of them, because they're all a bunch of redneck good ol' boys (the fucking mayor once referred to the rise of the Latino population as "the browning" of the region (I have it on tape.) at a public address), but there's one in particular that I actually have a seething dislike for. I know he had to push kids around on the school playground, had sex with seriously drunk girls after they were passed out and without their knowledge or something equally vile and other things that are not-quite-but-probably-should-be criminal. He's a douche bag, simply put. He snapped at some old woman today, who's probably someone's great grandma, like she was an ignorant child just because she disagreed with him. It's what I would expect from him, and granted, the poem she read to illustrate her point (seriously, a poem...who does that?) at the fucking city council meeting was really lame, but the elderly should be allowed to be lame. She should also be allowed to kick that useless, no good, miserable fuckwad in the balls for being treated like that, by a public official no less. If he had any balls, of course.
1 comment:
I still can't get over your mayor..
And no one should treat anyone's great grandma badly! He needs to be smacked around with a great big grandma-y purse.
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