September 24th, 2002. Tuesday
I'm really starting to hate this place. Work, I mean. I was never exactly in love with it, but I was able to just kind of ignore it while I was here, completely whatever tasks were asked of me in a relatively expeditious manner. Now, I'm actively really beginning to despise it here. Maybe it has something to do with added responsibilities. Just maybe. One of my co-workers left in August, and they haven't replaced her. He responsibilities are being divided up between a few people. And since I do the least out of anyone in my group, I get some of these responsibilities. I just think, maybe, that since they're not hiring anyone new, they could throw a few bones my way with all the money they're saving. Not bloody likely. But let's think about other things.
In general, besides having to work two jobs, and an uncomfortable situation with my landlord, things are pretty good. I like living by myself. The weekend visits turned out well. Saw a lot of people. Friday night, Jenny G from DC and I walked aimlessly around Greenpoint and Williamsburg for a while, then had dinner at the Kellog Diner. Then we sat around and watched movies and listened to a little music and drank beer. When I turned on my stereo to watch the movies, I realized there was far more water damage from the leaking ceiling than I had realized. So Jenny G got to watch me have a moderate freak-out as I cursed the world in general while fumbling around with all sorts of wires, knobs, and switches. It's till not working right, and records play at about 39 rpm instead of 33. I'm hoping once everything dries, it'll be allright. Around 1 AM, Apocolypse Now came on. Neither Jenny G nor I had ever seen it. But after a few hours, we couldn't keep our eyes open. I'll have to see it in its entirety at some point.
Saturday was the annual Potato Potluck Picnic in Prospect Park, Part 3, or PPP PP P3. Jenny G spent most of Friday making two potato dishes. One, a mix of mashed potatos and peanut butter, was an unmitigated disaster. The other, a lentil and sweet potato salad, was a modest success. It took quite a while to get to Park Slope. We met Jen's friend Libby and her friend Amy there. Eventually Jed, Matt, and Dylan also joined us, followed by my neighbor Miss Charming Melodee. The final event of the picnic was the potato sack race. I didn't race last year, so I figured this year I'd give it a whirl. I put a lot of pressure on myself to win. Mostly because while sitting at the picnic table, I boasted "You know, I think I'm going to go win the potato sack race." I was unexpectedly nervous standing at the starting line. I was so edgy that by the time I crossed the finish line, I hadn't realized that a false start was called. I used a lot of energy on a false start. The top three finishers from each heat advance to the final race. So after almost falling a few times, I had to lunge over the finish line to end up in the money. I think I came in second or third. Anyway, I made the final race. I was a little surprised with myself that I just dove into the ground like I did to try to win. But I really don't like losing these sorts of things. Anyway, in the final, I fell about halfway through, but my momentum made me spring back up, though it was far too late to recover. The next day, I was surprised at how sore I was, and since then have been finding little knicks and scrathes on my arms and back. Guess that happens when you go diving into a pile of wood chips.
Saturday night was an engagement party for Aaron and his fiancee Hilary. I dragged Jenny G there, but felt guilty about her having to sit around with a bunch of strangers, so we only stayed a little while. Then to Great Lakes to meet up with a friend of hers. This friend ended up buying me two shots of Jack, which I did in a fairly rock and roll fashion despite feeling a bit sick and having to suppress the desire to throw up.
Sunday, Jenny G and I had a sickening brunch at a greasy spoon diner on Manhattan Ave. in Greenpoint. It was most unsatisfying, and made me want to go home, throw up, crawl under the sheets, and pretend the whole thing had been a dream. Unfortunately, Jenny G had a train to catch, so we high-tailed it to Penn Station. It was a bit tense, and a lot of running was involved, but she made her train by a few minutes. All in all, a good visit. I think she mentioned it was the most fun she's had on a visit to see me. Though my memory is sketchy. But it was nice to have her visit solo for a change, which hasn't happened in a while. But more recently than I've visited her. Which hasn't happened in almost two years. We feel bad about that.
So I wandered around the city for a good part of the afternoon. It happened that Jed and Matt and friend Mark were hanging out in a bar on 14th st. watching every football game, so I met up with them for a little bit. Matt's in a little show right now, a play, and it's not doing so well. In fact, the only reason he was hanging out was because the performance that day had been cancelled because no one showed up. Which happened a few other times. But it was good to see him, and it must be sort of a terrible thing to be involved with, so I don't think anybody was too disappointed.
I had plans to meet my friend Michelle later on. I'd run into her at the Modest Mouse/Flaming Lips show in Prospect Park a few months ago, after not seeing her for four years. We met at camp in 1992. Nerd camp. Anyway, I'd lost touch with her a few years ago and had pretty much figured I'd never hear from her again. The only times I'd think about her were on her birthday or holidays, when she'd usually send me a card or something, when I'd think "I'll probably never hear from her again." She's always been the kind of borderline friend, where you've just about given up on them, and you'll hear from them out of nowhere. Anyway, we met up at Cafe Pick Me Up, and sat there for a few hours catching up. Not even catching up. Just talking. It was weird. we hadn't seen each other in so long, but it felt like we hang out all the time. She's definitely a city kitty, and we're clearly very different people with different interests/desires/needs/friends, but in a weird way we get along famously. Actually, it's kind of the same with Jenny G. A refrain for much of the weekend was "Why are we friends exactly?"
In the evening, the running around finally ended. My former upstairs and current neighbor Miss Charming Melodee brought over some pierogies and other foodstuffs, and we made a dinner of piergies and vegetables, with some salsa-gaucamole fusion and chips as a snack. I prefer to call it "salsamole." Our neighborhood is very Polish, but has a large hispanic contingent as well. I figured a good business venture would be a fusion Mexican/Polish restaurant. I also discussed this with Jenny G. Our feature dish would be a pan-fried tortilla filled with potato and cheese. It would be called a "quesarogie." Prospective names for a restaurant are "Senior Kielbasa," "Eastern Block Gauc," "El Pobrecito Pierogie." Possible logos include a burro coming out of a submarine screen door, a couple of banditos holding solar-powered flashlights, or maybe a taco flying out of a helicopter ejector seat. Anyway, dinner was terribly pleasant.
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