The following story is of moderate humor. Not extreme humor. Not "I want to die now because nothing will ever be funny again after this" humor. Moderate humor.
Last night, Haley and I dined at The Signature Room, a ritzy, classy, snobby, yachting, Clarence Dewbury V, sort of place located on the 95th Floor of the John Hancock building. I had won employee of the quarter at work and that entitles the winner to $100 reimburseable to dinner, thus The Signature Room.
The experience was great except for one thing, our creepy waiter named Charles. Charles was a tall, skinny man with a creepy goatee and an even creepier voice. He spoke in a hushed, deep voice and said things like "How is everything? (wait for response) Awesome." (I have my suspicions, especially after reading the informative "How to Survive a Robot Attack" that this man was a robot). So Charles was creepy and I guess the service at this kind of fancy restaurant is superb(ly creepy) as well. They do things like put your napkin on your lap and whatnot. I would not know about this since I normally eat potato chips dipped in ketchup while laying in the bathtub at least seven meals a week (oh wait, no I don't I'm not slob ass like Jason Mulgrew).
Anyway, as we were dining I noticed whenever people left, Charles was helping them put their coats on. So, I told Haley "I do not want Charles to hel me put my coat on" Call me crazy, but I know how to put my own coat on. The gesture is lovely, say from a man to his wife, but from a creepy waiter to a 22 year old man, not as lovely.
So I formulated a couple plans in my mind:
1)Haley and I would stand and put our coats on at the same time, that way Charles would be obligated to help the lady.
2) Since the cost to me was still low for such a great meal, I would leave an even more generous tip than usual and hope that Charles would leave me alone.
I informed Haley of these plans, all the while she was rather enjoying my fear of a Charles-aided-coat-putting-on (by the way, that is a real word I just used). So, I had left the tip and I made sure Charles was out of sight, I gave Haley the go sign. Then two problems struck:
1)Haley, amused, slipped on her coat while still seated. I had to rapidly stand while glancing around nervously and tried to just throw my coat on. Charles appeared out of nowhere, as I felt my coat become very lightweight as Charles had taken a hold of it and was helping me put it on. This is when I learned of problem number 2.
2)Charles as he was helping me with my coat said, and I quote these words directly "Thank you so, so much. Your tip was very generous. I would not have rushed over here to help you with your coat if it hadn't been." (By the way, this place is crazy fancy and I am sure he must get bigger tips than the $32 I left on the $120 dollar bill, who will ever know)
So, I dug my own grave. Thanks Charles. I will never wear a coat again.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Inspected By #8
First of all, I would like to say that my accounting "house" ( I have decided all businesses should be called houses a la publishing house...it just makes work sound funny, although still not fun. And my roommate Derek said, "It sounds weird for me...I work at an Industrial Parts Supply House"....too funny) employs a intellectual property and patent lawyer.
Now that I have that out of the way, the title to this weeks blog is the title of my yet unwritten screenplay. It will be a comedy loosely based on my life, thoughts and whatnot. The main character will be an "inspector". Because I was thinking the other day, those people who inspect more typically than not lower grades of apparel (underwear, Fruit of the Loom T's, socks) and leave their little sticker "Inspected by 8", do they begin to identify themself as that? Is this their identity? Do they have their number tattooed on themself? Are their brutal murders over these numbers, either between two numbers or when someone thinks the quality of their product is subpar and 8 needs to get shanked?
Here is a scene from the film:
(Zoom in to warehouse, full of numeric inspectors. Car approaches, slams on brakes. Angry customer approaches front desk, holding what they see as a less than perfect tagless Hanes undershirt)
Angry Customer: Where the FUCK is 8, man? I am not playing!
8: I'm 8, and I suggest you keep your voice down (said real creepy Clint Eastwood like)
Angry Customer: This shirt is threadbare!
8: (wielding homemade shank made out of sharpened toothbrush) Threadbare, WHAT?
(8 walks away from now dead body)
8:Don't fuck with 8, man!
Alright, so that will not actually be a scene in my film unless I want DMX in it as "8". I plan on writing more of a comedy. It will be funny, and I guarantee at least three chuckles by viewers. This above scene will be when some crappy screenplay guy wants to adapt my idea into a movie starring Jean Claude Van Damne as the inspector protaganist/antagonist trying to save his leukemia-ridden child.
Life is good. The screenplay is still a couple humorous years away from its inception. But you can wait. I mean, when was the last time you saw a movie that changed your life? And made you pee in your pants? And made you wish you were a ninja too? This is that movie.
I had the good fortune of going to see The Blue Man group this past Saturday night. It was phenomenally hilarious and all in all a crazy experience. I recommend it to anyone who has not seen it. I did have some "ruminations" (trademarked as well) about the show:
-Why blue?
-How do those guys not smile the whole time?
-Why did I have to sit next to smelly old people?
-Would the green man group catch on?
-What did people think when this show first started in 1989 or whatever?
-If I were to try the crack the Blue Men smoked, where would I acquire such crack?
-I would like a candy bar right now. A Whatchamacallit.
My U of L Cardinals continue to play mediocre basketball. Their season motto seems to be "We can play with anyone, but not win". Luckily the baseball season is right around the corner. Trevor, Joe, and I are going to try the baseball season feat of 9 hot dogs and 9 beers in a 9 inning game. It will be fun. I am only worried about back to back 1-2-3 innings. That could be rough.
Also, thank all of you for your thoughtful blog feedback and ideas and just plain support. Yeah right, you would be like a Ron Jeremy used jockstrap being used on Trevor...no support and just plain too big.
Now that I have that out of the way, the title to this weeks blog is the title of my yet unwritten screenplay. It will be a comedy loosely based on my life, thoughts and whatnot. The main character will be an "inspector". Because I was thinking the other day, those people who inspect more typically than not lower grades of apparel (underwear, Fruit of the Loom T's, socks) and leave their little sticker "Inspected by 8", do they begin to identify themself as that? Is this their identity? Do they have their number tattooed on themself? Are their brutal murders over these numbers, either between two numbers or when someone thinks the quality of their product is subpar and 8 needs to get shanked?
Here is a scene from the film:
(Zoom in to warehouse, full of numeric inspectors. Car approaches, slams on brakes. Angry customer approaches front desk, holding what they see as a less than perfect tagless Hanes undershirt)
Angry Customer: Where the FUCK is 8, man? I am not playing!
8: I'm 8, and I suggest you keep your voice down (said real creepy Clint Eastwood like)
Angry Customer: This shirt is threadbare!
8: (wielding homemade shank made out of sharpened toothbrush) Threadbare, WHAT?
(8 walks away from now dead body)
8:Don't fuck with 8, man!
Alright, so that will not actually be a scene in my film unless I want DMX in it as "8". I plan on writing more of a comedy. It will be funny, and I guarantee at least three chuckles by viewers. This above scene will be when some crappy screenplay guy wants to adapt my idea into a movie starring Jean Claude Van Damne as the inspector protaganist/antagonist trying to save his leukemia-ridden child.
Life is good. The screenplay is still a couple humorous years away from its inception. But you can wait. I mean, when was the last time you saw a movie that changed your life? And made you pee in your pants? And made you wish you were a ninja too? This is that movie.
I had the good fortune of going to see The Blue Man group this past Saturday night. It was phenomenally hilarious and all in all a crazy experience. I recommend it to anyone who has not seen it. I did have some "ruminations" (trademarked as well) about the show:
-Why blue?
-How do those guys not smile the whole time?
-Why did I have to sit next to smelly old people?
-Would the green man group catch on?
-What did people think when this show first started in 1989 or whatever?
-If I were to try the crack the Blue Men smoked, where would I acquire such crack?
-I would like a candy bar right now. A Whatchamacallit.
My U of L Cardinals continue to play mediocre basketball. Their season motto seems to be "We can play with anyone, but not win". Luckily the baseball season is right around the corner. Trevor, Joe, and I are going to try the baseball season feat of 9 hot dogs and 9 beers in a 9 inning game. It will be fun. I am only worried about back to back 1-2-3 innings. That could be rough.
Also, thank all of you for your thoughtful blog feedback and ideas and just plain support. Yeah right, you would be like a Ron Jeremy used jockstrap being used on Trevor...no support and just plain too big.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
What a past couple of weeks
These past two weeks, dating back to January 28th, have been crazy. January 28th began normally enough...I woke up to go to work for a few hours on a Saturday, Logan and I went and bought 12 40's including the exquisite tastes of Camo and Big Bear (a 40 featuring an angry bear on the label...it really does not get much better than that). We started drinking at around 1:30 and got quite drunk which led to some unexplained wrestling which led to me having some unexplained rug burn on my forehead which looked like some sort of AIDS legion.
Sunday, I was awakened at 7:30 am with the need to puke. I thought after this puking session it was simply that angry bear fluid I had imbibed the previous day wanting to attack the toilet (where it had seen a delicious picnic basket). Then I kept puking all day, and all night. I could keep nothing down, not even water. At some point I figured I might be sick. When this vomitorium continued to Monday, I knew I was sick.
So, on Monday I laid around puking and watching TV and had to miss work even with a number of January 31st deadlines rapidly approaching. But seriously, I would have just been puking everywhere.
I forced myself to go to work on Tuesday for the sake of my deadlines, but I still felt like poop.
Then on Tuesday evening, Haley told me she wanted a break or needed space. I wrote some now removed blogs regarding the subject matter, but let me just say I was in a severely bad place for about two weeks after this. So that badness continued throughout up until this past Monday.
Then, last Tuesday morning, I was awakened at 2am with a stabbing pain in my right testicle. I tried to shrug it off and go back to sleep, but it was too much pain...so much in fact that I threw up in my trash can. I drove myself to the ER and within a few hours I was being sliced open to repair torsion of the testicle (it is now my job to warn the young men of the world of this horrible ailment. According to my surgeon, it can occur up to the age of 30....so watch out.(http://www.pedisurg.com/PtEduc/Torsion_of_the_Testicle_or_Testis.htm)
I know what many are thinking right now: "Who did you kill, Tim? What did you do to deserve all this? Am I allowed to laugh at you and your shameful state of life?"
As a fan of the NBC show, My Name is Earl, where a man sets out to reverse his karma from all the bad things he has done in life, I think maybe the religion blogoff, where I defiled every major world religion, definitely did not help my cause. And, I am thinking about removing it if bad things continue to happen.
But, the surgery was a success, my ball was saved, and that may have been when good things started to happen. Things are good with Haley again, my balls are healing, and nothing too majorly bad has happened. Aside from when I broke that mirror pulling into our garage on Monday. And yes, that really did happen.
So, life is going well again, and I just hope to make it through this week without any further major mishaps (I think death is next anyways).
Sunday, I was awakened at 7:30 am with the need to puke. I thought after this puking session it was simply that angry bear fluid I had imbibed the previous day wanting to attack the toilet (where it had seen a delicious picnic basket). Then I kept puking all day, and all night. I could keep nothing down, not even water. At some point I figured I might be sick. When this vomitorium continued to Monday, I knew I was sick.
So, on Monday I laid around puking and watching TV and had to miss work even with a number of January 31st deadlines rapidly approaching. But seriously, I would have just been puking everywhere.
I forced myself to go to work on Tuesday for the sake of my deadlines, but I still felt like poop.
Then on Tuesday evening, Haley told me she wanted a break or needed space. I wrote some now removed blogs regarding the subject matter, but let me just say I was in a severely bad place for about two weeks after this. So that badness continued throughout up until this past Monday.
Then, last Tuesday morning, I was awakened at 2am with a stabbing pain in my right testicle. I tried to shrug it off and go back to sleep, but it was too much pain...so much in fact that I threw up in my trash can. I drove myself to the ER and within a few hours I was being sliced open to repair torsion of the testicle (it is now my job to warn the young men of the world of this horrible ailment. According to my surgeon, it can occur up to the age of 30....so watch out.(http://www.pedisurg.com/PtEduc/Torsion_of_the_Testicle_or_Testis.htm)
I know what many are thinking right now: "Who did you kill, Tim? What did you do to deserve all this? Am I allowed to laugh at you and your shameful state of life?"
As a fan of the NBC show, My Name is Earl, where a man sets out to reverse his karma from all the bad things he has done in life, I think maybe the religion blogoff, where I defiled every major world religion, definitely did not help my cause. And, I am thinking about removing it if bad things continue to happen.
But, the surgery was a success, my ball was saved, and that may have been when good things started to happen. Things are good with Haley again, my balls are healing, and nothing too majorly bad has happened. Aside from when I broke that mirror pulling into our garage on Monday. And yes, that really did happen.
So, life is going well again, and I just hope to make it through this week without any further major mishaps (I think death is next anyways).
Monday, February 13, 2006
Sorry God(s), Tom Cruise, etc.
Ever since I finished my portion of the religion blogoff with Trevor, my life has gone in the toilet. Nothing good has happened and a great number of bad things which include, but are not limited to:
-My dog biting my nose and drawing blood
-Rug Burn on my forehead
-The flu
-My girlfriend issues (not even on the same level as the other things, by far the worst part)
-Knocked off the sideview mirror on my car
-Surgery on one of my balls
Therefore, God(s), and Tom Cruise, I am sorry. My bad, I take back those things I said about whomever I offended. And I am not just doing this to protect myself from further harm, but because I see now what is going on. Things have already begun improving though, and I hope this apology only sweetens things up a little.
-My dog biting my nose and drawing blood
-Rug Burn on my forehead
-The flu
-My girlfriend issues (not even on the same level as the other things, by far the worst part)
-Knocked off the sideview mirror on my car
-Surgery on one of my balls
Therefore, God(s), and Tom Cruise, I am sorry. My bad, I take back those things I said about whomever I offended. And I am not just doing this to protect myself from further harm, but because I see now what is going on. Things have already begun improving though, and I hope this apology only sweetens things up a little.
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