There's a Man in the Habit of Hitting Me on the Head with an Umbrella

Everyone in Minnesota is really friendly. I'm not sure what it is. It might be all the lakes.

It's astonishing to fly over all those little lakes. I've never seen anything like it.

I've never heard Prince on the radio more.

Minneapolis is a pretty pretty city. I hope I have time to explore it more.

Where are you Paul Westerberg?

I drove over the Mississippi today, which is always worth noting.

Also worth noting is that I ran into Barry Sanders at the airport on Sunday, waiting for my flight. It was awesome. I was walking towards my terminal, and I kind of just turned blank. Barry Sanders is walking towards me, I'm ten years old and Barry Sanders is king again. I'm not sure what the expression on my face was, but he must have seen it a million times before, because he just smirked, not like a condescending type of smirk, more like a 'hey, kid' kind of smirk, and then he nodded his head at me. I just stopped and stood there for probably one or two minutes, and kept thinking, 'wow that was cool.'

Courtesy of Mr. R.W. Lehmann III. Dig.

Current Mood: determined

The following is a list of "perfect careers" suggested to me through a quiz on monster.com


Computer software designer / developer
Legal mediator
Financial analyst
Economist
College professor: philosophy, economics
Musician
Intellectual property attorney
Web site designer
Investigator
Strategic planner
Neurologist
Pharmaceutical researcher
Network integration specialist


How could they possibly be serious. Thanks a pantsload.

Current Mood: discontent

Once you've been tagged, you have to write a blog with 6 weird facts/things/habits about yourself. In the end you need to choose 4 people to be tagged and list their names. No tag backs!!

1. I used my parents' divorce to get out of church, boy scouts, and football.
2. I am going through a major Bob Dylan phase, specifically the song "Tangled up in Blue." I listen to it at least five times a day.
3. On the strength of my first student loan check, I went to the bar 76 nights in a row, only missing the nights of xmas eve and xmas day. We were aiming for 100.
4. So far, I am not a fan of being 23. Debts, uncertainties, debts, living situations, debts.
5. My favorite pen is the Pilot G-2 07 Series. Sometimes I just write with it solely for the act of putting ink on paper. It's meditative.
6. I think spring replaced summer as my favorite season. I may be jumping the gun here.

It: bckwrds05 mrkillboto neblina456 weezerbud

Current Mood: groggy

Remember those "The More You Know" ads that NBC shows? I remember them with different NBC actors, saying things like, "Don't take drugs," or, "Stay in school."

I just saw one and the whole PSA is an actor telling you to "never, ever tape yourself having sex. It's the worst idea you could ever have." Etc. etc. etc.

I mean, yeah, I guess it could be a bad idea. But to have some actor, sincere and serious, telling everyone, "Don't make amateur porn," just seems a tad absurd.

One of the reasons why I really like the Detroit Tigers' new manager, Jim Leyland (talking about some prospect at spring training this year):

Don Kelly , an infielder hoping to make the team, got a chance to play the outfield Friday, but from what Leyland said on Saturday, that experiment is already finished.
"One ball was hit to him. He ran a down-and-out pattern (to catch it). He went back, then over, then in. I had two cigarettes before he ever caught it."

Taken from the Detroit News, 3/26/06

He reminds me of Walter Matthau from the Bad News Bears.

Current Mood: amused

A story I wrote, Dead on a Wednesday, got published by a local arts group called The Detroiter. It's really not that spectacular, and the story is no Beyond the Pale by William Trevor (of which, Ron, you were completely right), but I suppose it is kind of neat. And it's a start.

The Detroiter

Current Mood: thirsty

So last night Jesse and I went downtown. Started at the Town Pump, which was fairly busy but nothing out of the ordinary. Actually, an ordinary Friday night is busier than a Tuesday before the Super Bowl. Still fun though. No celebrities there, just a bunch of press people with passes around their necks. Did see a model type, about 6'3" and gorgeous, checking into the hotel. Other than that, just another night at the Pump.

After a pitcher, we decided to check out the Centaur across the street. First floor was dead, second floor was dead, but the third floor was loud and busy. While walking towards the bar, standing next to a window was Sean Salisbury, that big, grey haired football analysist for ESPN. While distracted from walking past Salisbury, I proceeded to bump into Stuart Scott. When I saw who it was, I was startled and just kind of stood there for a few seconds before my feet started working again. I think I startled him too and we just stood there for a few seconds before I mumbled something and kept on walking. We got our beer and I see Tim Cowlishaw, another ESPN guy. Then Jesse and I move to a standing spot where from across the way, we see Jay Mariotti trying to schmooze some 21 year old. He's a short bastard.

Fun night, Detroit is hopping and we're gonna go downtown everynight of the week. If anyone wants in, gimme a call. To not go downtown at least one night this week would be quite silly, in my mind. It's one big drunken carnival -- how often is the city this beautiful and busy?

Today I went for "Phase 2 of the Application," at Pinnacle Advertising. This is basically a way of training employees without paying them. I showed up at 11:30am and was supposed to stay through 8pm, afterwhich I would take some sort of test so they can further scrutinize my qualifications. I don't know what was on this test because I ditched out around 4:30.

My suspicions about this place proved true. This job, indeed, was to be a door-to-door salesman. They didn't call it sales, mind you. As my "observer," Jaris (who was actually quite a nice fella), tried to pitch to me, "You see, what we're doing here is not sales, that's not what we're doing. What we're doing here is promoting." He then went on to try and hawk a book of coupons for forty dollars. Sales, promotions, it's all fucking semantics.

Jaris and I hit about one hundred houses in Canton Township in about two hours. I didn't do anything, really, except listen, ask questions, and follow. A lot of people are understandably rude when salesmen, I'm sorry, promotionsmen, come up to their door in the middle of the afternoon. I was one of those assholes who you see walking around neighborhoods in a suit, the type of person you pretend not to hear the doorbell when it rings. This is all completely understandable; I don't answer the door either and I felt dirty being that guy in suit and tie, trying to hawk things to people who never asked for someone to come to their door and attempt to hawk things.



Look for part two of "Willie Loman for No Man," coming soon . . .

(Jesse just called and we're gonna go see what kinda trouble we can get into amidst the hopeful madness of downtown.)

Current Mood: amused

It's 4:00 in the morning and I can't go to bed because my dog, Auddie, refuses to come inside. If I try to go get her, it will only hype her up even more than she already is. So I have to wait up, like some sort of jilted person in a relationship, til the dog's ready to come home. Went to the Pump and the Bronx with Idaho, it was a good night filled with a lot of talk about girls and life and jobs and singing along to Sinatra in an apartment complex parking lot. Things are going well and I may go salsa dancing with the Persian. I also have a job interview on Friday at noon. Edsel would be proud.

Getting ready for jury duty right now. I think I may pull a Pauly Shore seeing that I don't have a job. If it works out, I'll just need a dog named Peanut and Tia Carrere and I'll be set.

So last night I had my first, honest to goodness Hunter S. Thompson moment. I mean, I've flirted with said moment numerous times in the past, you know, just pure excess and jubilee, that level of care-free abandonment where I get to. Idaho best described it as when I get drunk, I turn into pure id. I always liked that.

Last night, at the hotel, after I stepped out into the laundry room at the end of the hallway to have a smoke with my whiskey and ginger ale and chatting to Jon for a bit, we go back to the hotel room and everyone's gone. We headed to the pool because we figured that'd be the best place to find the rest of the drunks. We went, drinks in hand. Everyone's down in the pool at five o'clock in the morning swimming in the pool in their underwear. I don't think the pool was supposed to be open, let alone people drinking whiskey in their underwear while in it, but none of us certainly seemed to care. Ended up swimming around, doing backstrokes while trying to keep my coffee mug of whiskey above the water. Somewhere around six (I'm guessing), I realized the bottle of whiskey was up in the room so I decided it needed to be brought down. Got out of the pool, lit a cigarette in the pool room, and stumbled down the hallway, sopping wet, in nothing but my boxers and a cigarette in my hand. Took the elevator to the second floor, grabbed the bucket of ice, the bottle of whiskey, and the two liter of ginger ale and stumbled back with everything cradled in my arms like a baby, cigarette drooping from my lips. I'm pretty sure I looked fairly ridiculous. If there was a camera around, it would've been a picture to show my grandkids.

Current Mood: satisfied

I'm getting ready for work right now and I finished a good bit of packing today. All I've got left are loose ends and dishes to box up. I was worried about finding time to pack this week since I work every day up until Saturday, but luckily enough when I moved in to this place I knew I wasn't going to stay too long so I didn't bother to unpack more than half of my things. So things are moving along as I do. If anyone wants a bunch of dishes (plates, bowls, glasses, etc.) you can have a bunch of mine because I'm thinking of just tossing a bunch to cut down on the move. To sell you on them, they're all really old and passed down along the line of many previous roomates. Enticing, I know.

Come to the Bird tonight and tomorrow because you may never see me again.

A quarter to four, quick update before I decide whether to try and get some sleep or just stay up and try to kickstart a somewhat normal sleeping pattern. Staying up all night to get on an earlier sleeping schedule always seems like a smart idea but never seems to work out for me. I always somehow end up staying up just as late the next night.

Anyhow, what I wanted to say is, what I'm trying to get at here is, I posted a new piece up on the site that the Rons and I have. It's called Dead on a Wednesday . It was originally roughly five times longer with five different sections where you had different points of view from all the characters (Idaho -- like the "where's your periodical table now?' bit) and then a conversation bit, etc. I thought I might play around with the structure so I put the last section first and read that and realized that the last section was all that was really needed, the rest seemed a bit ostentatious (god I hate that word). So I guess this is a short short, if you willl. Anyhow, enough writer's babble, if you get a chance, maybe read it, tell me whatcha think, dig?

Current Mood: mischievous

On Tuesday at 10:30, I will play what will be, in all likeliness, my last open mic at the UCup. My last time playing in Mt. P ever, probably. That's a little weird to say, but it's the truth. So, if you're in Mt. P and wanna see me, come on out. Two weeks from today I should be living back at old Rickie Lane. I'm going to have to find a new UCup, I only have two requirements, the Detroit Free Press and a smoking section. Oh yeah, I'm going to need a car and a job, too. That'll be fun.

"Do you guys mind if I listen to some classic rock?" the kid in the smoking room of the UCup asked.

When I said go for it, I didn't know that he was going to play Peter Frampton. Right now is the talk box solo.




Now for the good news: I move back to Rickie Lane, Westland on Sunday, December 18th. I don't know how long I'll be back in my old bedroom at my pops' house, but it will be a welcome change from my little college town. I won't miss this place for a very long time, I can tell you that much.




As far as hyperbole goes, here's mine for the week: The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway is the greatest story every written. At the very least, that's definitely how I feel right now. Consider me blown away and regretting all the years I refused to read it just because everyone told me I had to read it.

Hey, I'm looking to get out of the old Mt. P as soon as I can, so I'm offering first month's rent paid. It's a subleasing opportunity, a nice duplex on the corner of May and Pleasant streets, totally walking distance from campus (probably 5 minutes?). Here are some specs:

Rent is $275 a month
Lease runs through the last of May
Animals are allowed
One current roomate, male (has a dog)
Landlord pays 1/3 of utilities
Dishwasher
Free Parking

That's all i can think of at the moment, contact me if anyone's interested for a steal. Whenever you want to move in, it'll be more than easy to do, now or in two months, lemme know.

MG

It's getting harder and harder to justify staying in Mt. Pleasant just to find a subleasor. I mean, sure, I can't really do anything but stay in my dad's basement until May if I don't find a subleasor and just eat this stupid fucking lease, but that's it. Getting incredibly fun sounding drunk calls from about half of my best friends from back home makes me think seriously about either eating the lease or just ditching it altogether, credit report be damned. I know what Idaho's gonna say.

(  . . . on the flipside . . .  )