August
21, 2000. Monday
Mail to G-Rock
Got back from Deep Creek Lake, MD yesterday. A nice long weekend, and my longest break from the journal in almost a year, I think. An explanation is probably due, but I really don't feel like it. Although I had written one, and I hate to waste some good extended metaphors. But oh well. Anyway, the weekend was a lot of fun. At times. Most of the time, I suppose. The weather was mixed, and when it was sunny it was sort of chilly. So we- Jed. Jen, Matt, Jed's friend Todd, and myself- mostly stayed inside getting fucked up and laughing at stupid shit. A few realizations from the weekend: 1) Jen is a pretty together and organized girl. I was impressed with the food and drink preparation/cooridination going on. 2) The high altitude of Deep Creek Lake makes it a wonderful vacation spot, with it's cool evenings and complete lack of mosquitos. 3) Matt can be a one seriously sick fuck. The offenses are almost too many to name, but here's a few. The problem with taking long road trips with Matt is mainly that he has absolutely no problem emptying his bladder into a plastic bottle. If he wants to take a piss, he'll just go, without even mentioning it. Just sort of in passing "Man, i've really gotta pee," or something, and the next thing you know, he's waving a bottle in your face, screaming "My god! It's so clear, just like water!" Then he wondered what the point of drinking water was, if it was just going to be filtered out unchanged. Anyway, at that point I quickly pulled off the highway so he could pitch it out of the car.While I'm certainly not one to judge another man's- i don't know what you'd call it- sick, twisted mind?, Matt's car urination was was most displeasing to me for one main reason: It was MY fucking car he was peeing in. I don't need that. So here's the next interesting development. While Matt was peeing in a wide-mouth Poland Springs bottle, Jen was leaning into the front seats to talk to me and Jed, and I suspect to avoid the spectacle of Matt's penis in a wide-mouth water bottle. All of a sudden, she shudders and flails back in a disgusted rage. Jed immediatle pulls over on the highway, and Jen runs out of the car. Standing there on the highway, with her back turned toward me, I could clearly see the pancake-sized area of moisture on Jen's lower back. That's right, whether by design or by accident, or subconsious need, Matt had peed on Jen's back. I say subconcious need, because, truth be told, this was definitely not the first time Jen had felt the sting of Matt O'Brien's unsympathetic urea. But that's another story entirely.
But besides that, and the fact that the urine-soaked shirt is still in my trunk, things were ok this weekend. Matt and I had a few heated Horseshoes competitions. Jed's parents and sister came up on Sunday afternoon and brought lunch. They also brought their dog. I pointed out to Matt the irony I saw in the fact that Jed's parents were telling us how their dog at one point during the drive was able to look at the door of the minivan to tell the others in the car that she had to pee. She let others know, the car was stopped, she got out, did her business, and they were on their way again. Matt, on the otherhand, while perfectly capable of verbal communication, was unable to produce the same results.
On the whole, fun fun. I could elaborate, I suppose, but don't really feel like it. Some pictures though, but later. Some spots of true hilarity. And a bit of sentimentality. I miss our road trips. They don't get to happen that much. But the actual road part of the trips was pretty horrible. It took us more than 8 hours to get back last night. Unacceptable. But I don't feel as bad or as sick as I thought I'd feel today. And as an added bonus, when we got home, we discovered that our new dishwasher had been installed over the weekend. Score. Finally, I can stop eating off dirty dishes. I don't care how long you scrub a dish with water scalding hot water and soap, if it doesn't go through a dishwasher, than to me, it's just not clean. It's been a real struggle for me this past year, washing my drinking cups with a nasty-ass sponge that's been sitting on the sick forever, growing bacteria and mildew and disease. But no more. Of course, the kitchen wasn't really designed with a dishwasher in mind, so now the drawer that houses all the eating utensils only opens about 4 inches. So we can't quite get to the forks and knives. But at least they'll be clean, dammit.
Pouring over my web referral logs, I see that someone has found me doing a search for one-time girlfriend Rebecca Makkai. The irony of me just writing that is that of the two pages where her name is mentioned, one of them only lists her name in the same capacity as it does here. So in the future, if anyone else does the same search, it'll point to three different pages, only one of which has anything real written about her. Though I think somewhere in the beginning of september I'd written a nostalgia-induced little paragraph about her. Not sure though. Anyway, this most research search is only noteworthy now because this time I actually know who it is. Hello, Rachael. Email me already, I'm bored, and emails from people I never thought I'd hear from are always interesting. If it is you, that is. And on the chance Rebecca was informed of this as well, then hello to you to.
Anyway, I've probably got another week of work left in me.
©2000 ThreeMatchBreeze