Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Love Potion Number 9
Sarah had broken up with me nearly two and a half years ago, and I was still having trouble getting back into the swing of dating. I'd be out at dinner, having a pleasant conversation with pleasant woman in a pleasant restaurant and suddenly I wouldn't be able to think of anything but the way Sarah had smelled when she was happy. Or the way Sarah's eyebrow quirked upward when she smiled. There are things that can end a pleasant evening most...unpleasantly, and these most certainly qualified. My friend Adam had suggested that I visit an acquaintance of his who specialized in this type of problem, but I was very opposed to taking my problems to someone else who wasn't my barber or my bartender. It's just not the sort of thing a guy like me does.
One evening after a particularly disastrous night in which I managed to call a pleasant young lady "Sarah", which was most definitely not her name, not once but three times, I finally took Adam's advice. The next afternoon at work, I asked him to put me in touch with his acquaintance. Adam reached into his pocket, pulled out one of his business cards, and quickly scribbled an address on the back, and handed it to me. I put it into my pocket and promised myself I'd check it out that weekend.
Saturday morning, shortly after I woke up and dressed, I found myself walking down Vine Street with the early morning sun in my eyes. As I rounded the corner onto 34th Street, I pulled the business card that Adam had given me out of my pocket and checked the address one last time. Turning around I saw a small doorway behind me painted a gaudy shade of red that would have staggered a bull the size of Babe the Blue Ox. The spidery script above the transom read "Madame Ruth" in black. Nothing else. My trepidation was nearly choking me as I pushed the door inward and heard it hit the small bell that hung from the ceiling to announce customers.
One evening after a particularly disastrous night in which I managed to call a pleasant young lady "Sarah", which was most definitely not her name, not once but three times, I finally took Adam's advice. The next afternoon at work, I asked him to put me in touch with his acquaintance. Adam reached into his pocket, pulled out one of his business cards, and quickly scribbled an address on the back, and handed it to me. I put it into my pocket and promised myself I'd check it out that weekend.
Saturday morning, shortly after I woke up and dressed, I found myself walking down Vine Street with the early morning sun in my eyes. As I rounded the corner onto 34th Street, I pulled the business card that Adam had given me out of my pocket and checked the address one last time. Turning around I saw a small doorway behind me painted a gaudy shade of red that would have staggered a bull the size of Babe the Blue Ox. The spidery script above the transom read "Madame Ruth" in black. Nothing else. My trepidation was nearly choking me as I pushed the door inward and heard it hit the small bell that hung from the ceiling to announce customers.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
A little bit of Nirvana
This has nothing to do with Kurt Cobain.
Leaving work in the afternoon, there is only one thing that stands between me and and almost straight walk to my car: a 4 foot high handrail poised on the lip of a 10 foot dropoff from the balcony of the aquarium's restaurant. Now, your Average Joe, being the law abiding conformist bloke that he is, would walk around to the stairs that are about 40 yards away, go down the stairs, walk 40 yards back and then go to his car.
I have discovered a simple, effective, and ergonomic solution which goes as follows. While walking out, sometimes carrying on a conversation, I will approach the handrail and jump into the air. While I'm in the air, I'll turn sideways, grab the rail with both hands, and finish my 180 degree rotation and plant my toes on the available 2 inch wide ledge. I'll then jump 10 feet to the ground, rotating another 180 degrees on the way, land in a nice soft bed of mulch and decorative shrubbery, and continue walking to my car, leaving stunned and shell-shocked coworkers in my wake. It takes me to a happy place that reminds me of running around Vassar at 2 o'clock in the morning and jumping off/over things. It's 3 seconds of Nirvana.
Leaving work in the afternoon, there is only one thing that stands between me and and almost straight walk to my car: a 4 foot high handrail poised on the lip of a 10 foot dropoff from the balcony of the aquarium's restaurant. Now, your Average Joe, being the law abiding conformist bloke that he is, would walk around to the stairs that are about 40 yards away, go down the stairs, walk 40 yards back and then go to his car.
I have discovered a simple, effective, and ergonomic solution which goes as follows. While walking out, sometimes carrying on a conversation, I will approach the handrail and jump into the air. While I'm in the air, I'll turn sideways, grab the rail with both hands, and finish my 180 degree rotation and plant my toes on the available 2 inch wide ledge. I'll then jump 10 feet to the ground, rotating another 180 degrees on the way, land in a nice soft bed of mulch and decorative shrubbery, and continue walking to my car, leaving stunned and shell-shocked coworkers in my wake. It takes me to a happy place that reminds me of running around Vassar at 2 o'clock in the morning and jumping off/over things. It's 3 seconds of Nirvana.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Wandering
So today I went wandering in the cow pasture behind my apartment. Yes, my apartment is by a cow pasture. There is also a small stream and some woods. My camera was taken with me and pictures were taken with the camera. Here are some results.
Also, a fence post behind my apartment. It keeps the cows out of my parking lot
You know it is spring by the purdy flowers that you can find sprouting ever'where.
Also, a fence post behind my apartment. It keeps the cows out of my parking lot
You know it is spring by the purdy flowers that you can find sprouting ever'where.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
The Ballad of Nicholas Fescue
This was posted on the Collaborative Fiction Project website, but for those of you who don't read that...
The Ballad of Nicholas Fescue
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Deep in a dragon's lair
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
And faced down a grizzly bear
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Of all the maidens fair
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
And made all the townspeople stare
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Of the young lass in distress
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Then he left thru the egress
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
And now I have to confess
That Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Wearing a floral print dress
Knights are abound but all about town
None more of a rogue or a charmer
Than Nicholas Fescue who comes to the rescue
But doesn't own any armor
The Ballad of Nicholas Fescue
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Deep in a dragon's lair
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
And faced down a grizzly bear
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Of all the maidens fair
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
And made all the townspeople stare
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Of the young lass in distress
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Then he left thru the egress
Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
And now I have to confess
That Nicholas Fescue came to the rescue
Wearing a floral print dress
Knights are abound but all about town
None more of a rogue or a charmer
Than Nicholas Fescue who comes to the rescue
But doesn't own any armor
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