August
11, 2000. Friday
Mail to G-Rock
Not much brewing here in the corporate world today. Nothing of interest, anyway. Checking my webstats for the 83rd time yesterday, I found that someone found my page doing a search for me. How nice. That actually barely ever happens. Of course, it may not actually be me they were looking for, just someone with the same name. And judging by how long they stuck around, I don't think it was me afterall. But the search did direct me to another page of interest, one I may have linked to before. It's a little article on the now-legendary band Underpants Cowboy. It was written by one of the college papers at Washington and Lee back in February of 1998, as we were mounting our "World Tour." It's an article detailing what different students are doing over winter break. Our little section was made even funnier by the other students who were profiled. A big joke. But funny. Hey, if you're bored, you can check it out:elppa.uc.wlu.edu/~thephi/layoutdata/archive/January_26_1998/fstory1.html
So anyhow, no real planz for da weekend. James and I will probably get a vodka-based drink after work, then go back to Brooklyn, where we will probably play some music. He-- or should I say, Durdy Birdie-- has a show coming up in two weeks at a small little bar in Williamsburg, over in Brooklyn. I may play with him, if I've got the chops to be an indie-rock drummer. We shall see. If anyone's in the area on the 25th of August, he's booking the whole night of music at the Pourhouse. So stop on bt. And bring the kiddies. You'll get a free cookie.
Here's something i can't quite figure out: For the past few months, stains have been disappearing on me. Most recent example, I just finished my lunch of a greasy Italian sausage, and of course I dripped hot sauce all over my pants while I wasn't looking. The hot sauce was brownish red. The pants are khaki. But inexplicably, an hour later, the stains are gone. I did dab them with a napkin, but they should be a little more visible. It's quite odd. This happens a lot. Just last weekend, I dripped a bunch of butter on the crotch area of the pants I was wearing, but miraculously on Tuesday, when I wore the pants to an interview, the crotch was virtually grease-free. And last year, the even that started it all, I was at work and I spilled a good amount of tomoto sauce on a brand new white shirt. "Fuck!" I believe was what I exclaimed at the time. Anyhow, I put it on a chair, and the next day when I was looking for a shirt to wear, the stain was- *poof* - gone. How queer. Maybe I can perform minor miracles. Just shitty little things that don't really mean anything. This reminds me of an old George Carlin routine, where he's pretending to be Jesus, debunking all the common myths about him. When asked if he actually turned water into wine he said, "No, not that never happened. I did, though, once turn apple juice into milk..." I thought that was a gas. By the way, I'm noticing I use a lot of terms like "...was a gas," when I write, even though I don't believe I've ever used that term in conversation. Not often anyway. Weird. But anyway, this disappearing stain thing is just sort of weird. By the way, my brother Geoff used to refuse to let me wear any of his shirts, particularly white ones, because "You're going to spill spaghetti sauce on it or something." Well, sure, but it seems I can make it go away too, so there. Punk.
It's been going on for almost an hour now, and it's really becoming intolerable. My first real complaint about working here: the woman in the next cube is talking to her baby brother. "Oh? Who had a baby? The dinosaur had a baby? Wow! what's that? Ohhhhhhh! OK. You can hear me typing? wowwwww!" It's making me sick. EVERY FUCKING SENTENCE is followed by an "Ohhhhhhhh...!" No, really. I'm serious. "Ohhhhhh....woowwww!" sigh...
Now she's calling other people over to talk to him. Christ.
Sure, it's cool to be nice to kids. I just don't wanna hear it, ok? Not here at the office, when it's the only real thing I can hear. There's no way to ignore it. Must ...get...out...now...
Her "oh, isn't he cute" laugh while the other guy is talking is also bothering the pants off me. Well, enough about this already. Ok? Great! Wooowwww!!
©2000 ThreeMatchBreeze