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2009-08-17 - On Our Next Episode . . .

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Willard Scott, Eat Your Heart Out!

2003-05-01 - 11:59 p.m.

Mood:Punchy, Excited, Hesitant

Listening To: All TH baby - Remain in Light, Naked, MSABAF

Quote:"That Kenichi's always throwing something into the mix . . . the meow mix that is." - Kate

Here I am. Yes indeed. Let's skip the song and dance and go straight to a little seltzer down your pants . . . I hate seltzer. Especially down my pants. But yeah - I'm back. It's been nice. But now it's cold. Well, colder. I still have my empty tin of Spider-Man popcorn propping up the window next to me so to usher in a slight breeze while I type this. Isn't that pleasing? I think so.

So here we are. 100 entries strong. Can this really be my Centennial?! Well, I don't see Bill Walden and Rob Curtis throwing down on the Opechee baseball diamond, so perhaps not. 100 entries and instead of roses and canolis all I hear is "Why are you taking so long between entries?" and "Why are your entries still so long?" and "If you mention our client and/or her afterbirth one more time we will destroy you. Sincerely, Helen Hunt's lawyers." But that's ok. I don't really like roses anyway. They have thorns that are sharp.

So, I've hemmed and he-hawed to myself what I was going to do with this momentous (in my own mind) milestone. A greatest hits package? Too much work. Friends writing comments and personal spiritual reflections about various entries? Yeah - right. I have a hard enough time with my monkey friends learning how to use the user-friendly Comments system as it is. Just a regular old entry where I throw in a bunch of my favorite pictures? Indeed friend. Indeed.

But first - a few corrections and house-cleaning:

#1 - Coty was simply agog over the fact that I left out "the funniest part about the weekend in Boston" from several weeks ago (but recounted in the last entry) I asked Coty if it took place when we were at the bar, because if so, not only was my memory from that time period extremely hazy, but most of the info I got about the bar came from other people due to my swiss cheesification of my own brain that night. "No, no. You must remember! About Fred? On the dance floor?" "Ummmm . . . I got nothing." I admitted. He sighed loudly at me. "We turned around and saw Fred Robie grinding wildly between two girls that we had never seen before!" ". . ." "Grinding! Fred Robie! In a gyrating flesh sandwich!" ". . ." "There's no way you've forgotten that." "Coty, you have no idea how badly I want to remember this. But I really really don't." This upset Coty. He was really disappointed in me. I can't say that I blame him. I'm angry at myself.

#2 - A quick e-mail from Fred Robie, in no way related to the above info. Here it is, in full: "Not only did I buy a car today, 98 Corolla, but we went to the Burlington Mall and there was a Chick'-Fil-A!! I am going to grow a mustache and a mullet and get a job there!!! Now that I have a car I can visit you every day. Can, but probably won't."

Don't I have nice friends? Speaking of friends, Brooke came down to visit on Sunday. But before that was Saturday. It rained and rained and rained on Saturday. And then I came home and helped Ben lug wet, slippery, muddy planks of wood from the side yard into the basement window. Then it rained more. That was Saturday. So yeah, Brooke came down Sunday. I wasn't showered yet seeing as how in some rare hat trick of house fixer-uppery Ben accidentally dismantled the furnace, the stove, the kitchen sink pipes and the hot water to the shower. I know that's technically more than a hat trick, but oh well. Ben had a valid fact in pointing out that I "don't usually wash myself on the Sabbath", but B. Culkin was a-comin' to town for shoe shopping and she doesn't go for that "I wash myself with a rag on a stick" business. So I went to meet her at Rite-Aid, since the girl still can't navigate Dover after all this time. She called me a total of 4 times while I was on my way to meet her, bitching that I wasn't there yet. God give me strength. Luckily, he did. And then I ignored him until I needed a favor again. After showering in what I expected to be a cold shower and was pleasantly surprised to see there was some hot water left, Brooke and I left for Portsmouth. We went to Banana Republic and shoe stores and clothes stores with shoes and shoe stores with clothes and . . . and . . . zzzzzzzz. Wha? What's that? Here I am. Rock me like a . . . wait? What? Oh yeah. Then we went to the Friendly Toast. I like that.

Flames, on the side of my face . . .

So I talked to Ben while we were still at the "Toast" as I like to call it. That's a lie. I'm calling it the "Toast" for the first time ever right now. Well, second now. Anyway, Brooke and I had already decided that we should have a little BBQ, or as granite stater's call it, a "cook-out". Ben and I decided to call the BrockelClan and see if they'd like to join us. They were happy to. At this point, my best guess is that through the lead walls at the Fox Run Mall, one Kate heard people miles away talking about having a BBQ. This can be the only explanation for how she knew to show up after work asking if anyone knew where she could find some cheese dogs. Even Kenichi joined in. Oh that Kenichi. Kate and Brooke both managed to make feline faux paus (or faux "paws" for those of you that are terminally punny). Both managed to say something along the lines of, "Zach, you seem to like the cat now, whatever happened to you wanting Kenichi skinned alive and fed to starving Cambodians?" to which I would have to quickly cover in front of a horrified Ben with something witty like, "Different Kenichi." But seriously . . . maybe Kenichi and I had some difficulties in the early goings, maybe he was always sick and gross and wheezy and runny and drippy and hacky and I hated him and I wished someone would drop him in the sewer like so many 3rd grade recorders . . . but we're cool now! Oh yeah, cool cool cool. Even if sometimes I push him out my window on to the roof. I'm just saying is all. So Brooke, Kate, Ben, Andrea, Phil, Todd, Rex, and myself had ourselves a little BBQ and then, after Ben Walden defended his deeply rooted theories about why Air Supply "rocks the party that rocks the party", we watched a Simpsons that I had been waiting to see for many moons. And unlike Coty, it wasn't for the Act 3 appearance of JTT! No, no - it was for my DB! David Byrne was on Sunday's Simpsons, and unless you were on the phone with your mother at the time or battling your irritable bowel syndrome than you were lucky enough to see it! Oh DB! How he slayed me! Slew me? Either way, he was great. His voice is so weird. I forget. I think I've totally wiped clean the memory of meeting him. I know I was nervous as fuck and that there were assorted 10 foot arcs of fear pee going off in every direction, but he is so weird. And his oddities translated well on Simpsons. And how great is it that Carl of all people is the first one to recognize DB? And that Moe would have a Kathy Bates/Misery attraction to DB? Ah . . . so much goodness. If they start animating Maura Tierney's made out of canolis I am so done for. Even those poor earwigs holing up in my cranium can only take so much. Meanwhile, Brooke is in the background asking, "This is only a half hour, right?" Grumble, grumble. ["Don't grumble!" - Fozzie] Also, Rex was on fire like he was back the in Catskills wowin' them in the early '60's. He was zinging everyone (even though I was just using him as my zinging mouthpiece). But seriously, he had us laughing our asses off for the majority of the evening. Then, after the Brockelman's left, the four of us watched Alias. Well, pretty much just Brooke and I watched it while Kate and Ben's eyes glazed over having no idea what all the spy hi-jinxery was about. Then I went to bed. That is all.

And there is Homer - At the bottom of the ocean!

Brooke and I went to Robin's Monday morning only to be greeted by a horrific homemade sign on the door that informed us that they'd be discontinuing their Sunday Buffet as of May 11th. Well you can bet your bippy that Kate, Andrea and I will be going there this Sunday. Brooke and I had a scrumptious breakfast with far more corned beef hash than a human should be allowed and our waitress was really hot. But I don't really think Brooke cared much. Snob. Monday night was workin' at the Wallakers as usual. With Kate. Who I hadn't seen in ages. We played a lot of catch up. Actually, we did play us some Pass The Pigs. Or "P the P" as the hardcore playaz call it. And we are most definitely them. We had lots of highly undignified moves. But mostly pig outs. Mostly pig outs. Maybe some leaning jowlers. I don't know, Kate's the one that keeps track of those things. I have to give mad phat props to Kate here though. After us not playing for months and months and months - she beat me. For the first time. Ever. She totally kicked my ass. Twice. And then I soundly beat her twice. Which now brings our cumulative total standings of the past year to a nice, neat 31 - 2.

A game that much tighter than M.T.A.

X-Men 2 tomorrow! I can't wait. Even though I think this may be the first I've mentioned it. It's like I keep forgetting it's coming out . . . and then it's *BAMF* I remember again! (Extra Credit to those who get the "BAMF" reference) A year ago I was going to Spider-Man with my dad and I drooled all over myself witnessing it's Spidery-goodness. Then we left for Chad and Mack's wedding. I'd include a link to that story, but there's a law that says I can only link to that entry 12 times, and I'm quite sure I've already broken that law. We have Kristen and Mike's wedding in August. It sounds like, come hell or high water (gasp! oh no! not high water!) McLaughlin will be home in time. But no promises. But we're looking at early summer for a safe return. But things change. That just reminded me. Tim Curtis and I cooked up a deliciously wicked scheme the other morning. Oh how deliciously wicked it was. But I can't say anymore about it. Since it's also a secret scheme too. But I must say it was quite fun to cook the scheme up! I dare say Curtis and I haven't had this much devising a plan since the days of Viking Funerals in the river behind my house. So yeah, X-Men 2. Very much looking forward to seeing it tomorrow. Chances are I will see it twice tomorrow alone. The first one came out on Stace's 21st birthday and Coty and I skipped out of the party at the Rusty Hammer right before 12 to go meet Ron for the midnight screening. It was such a geekfest. And I loved every minute of it. Oh wait, I do remember a time when I mentioned X-Men 2 in these entries! The first footage I saw of it is when Tim, Ben, and I were chillin' like villains in San Diego last August)! And the bar tv was turned down so I couldn't hear it! And there were these girls giving out Mike's Hard Lemondae necklaces! And I was ending every sentence with an exclamation point! Ah . . . good times, good times!

If Spider-Man had plans for the weekend already, I'd call Nightcrawler to go Cosmic Bowling with. No contest.

My left lower eyelid has been twitching madly for five days! Good God man! Men made of sterner stuff that I have lost all sanity after 5 days of lid twitch! I just found this quote in this file I have called 'random quotes': When my throat bursts, (due to the alarming amount of earwigs stored there) I hope someone will have the balls to say: "We told that moron not to eat so many damn earwigs." Hmmmm . . . that certainly sounds like something I said. I'm guessing it went into the journal too. Though I have no recollection of it. I'm guessing I had a sore throat. Anyone? Anybody? Anyone remember this particular blathering over the others? Or are you all just here for your stupid fucking Asston Kuntcher fix?! Stupid fucking donkeyhead. I fucking hate him. No talent half-wit. I am the only person on this Earth that does not find him "charming". I FUCKING HATE HIM. Is anyone still unclear on how I feel about the guy who is on that show set in the 1970's and also hosts the show that replaced my beloved Clone High? I won't say the name of either show as it will only send my hell-bent Kuntcher fans to my doorstep via that tool of the devil itself, GOOGLE!!! Sigh . . . I know what'll cheer me up . . .

Damn That Television!

Damn! I had to shut that fucking window. It's fucking freezing now. Of course, it's also 2 in the morning. And the only person still up is Hannah. And she's of no use to me. It's just "Pine Martin" this and "If I live with a Pine Martin for 5 years and we share expenses does that make us Common Law?" that. You know how she gets. I went to Laconia on Tuesday. All I was planning to do was pick up Sopranos Season 1 from my mother's house and drop off a cookie sheet at Linda's. Somehow, I ended up visiting Brad and Conner (the artists' formerly known as B-Slopp and C-Slopp), visting Nanny at work, going out to lunch with Nanny at Patrick's (which led to catching up with Hsiu, Menton and Gamork), getting the Jeep inspected at BTC (sigh), and stopping by to visit my dad at his new place. I touched on this before but abandoned it before I really said anything. I . . . I have a real tough time driving around Laconia. I'm not sure why. Not literally "tough". It's not like I have a hard time negotiating the curbs in LA. I'm not Ricky. I don't know. Maybe it's because I only knew Laconia from wherever my feet would take me. Not that I never rode in cars in LA, but I rarely, save for lessons with my Dad or Rudy, drove around LA. There's no point trying to explain it since I already know I can't. Even though I've already made myself sound mental at this point. Everything I drive by sinks my brain into slow motion. And at first I thought it only happened my first time back. But it isn't going away. It doesn't matter what it is. An under construction Lakeport bridge, a park, a cemetary, the high school, Friendly's, WBWS, BTC, old houses of friend's long gone. I find myself not being able to concentrate. Whatever. This is my 100th entry. I'm gonna stop talking about this subject now. If I don't end up just deleting it later. Oh - and Beth? I never heard back from her. Sure, it's only been 2 weeks, so, I guess there's still a chance. Listen to me. Sounding like that boy who typed loudly while looking at mice in cribs checkered across badly hung wallpaper. Listening to music on a cheap Ames boombox that had become dented from too many lock-ins and sleep-outs. How are things that different now? Well . . . now I'm listening to music through headphones and typing a little softer. See? Lots has changed.

Looking over the horizon . . .

I was walking out of the Mobil station tonight. I had a six-pack of Bud Light bottles that I was balancing in the palm of my hand while rummaged through my left pocket looking for my keys. After I got in the car and made sure the beer was safe, I go through my less and less regular mental check of "seat belt", "lights", and "reverse". And I drive down towards the blinking yellow light, happy to go 60 mph one last time before home. The working window is down and "With Our Love" from "More Songs About Buildings And Food" is blasting it's lyrics ot into the not-quite-summer air. And then I pull in to the driveway. I put the car in park. I shut the lights off. I take my seat belt off. I forget my cell phone in the cup holder and have to look for it during the first commercial on ER. The Celtics have won the first round against Indiana and now it's on to the dreaded Nets. I don't have the energy to make a Jason Kidd joke. And Jason Kidd jokes are pretty fucking easy to make. That's it. That's all I have.

One of the best shot scenes in the history of film

So how to end it? My brother and I were talking on IM the other day. It was the first time I'd talked to him in quite a while. I told him that NewsRadio was coming out on DVD and how excited I was. I told him he should get the Family Guy DVDs. Jeff called Ben and said he wanted to hang out this weekend. My mother said she's taking a "personal day" on Mother's Day and will probably go to Wells or Ogunquit for the day by herself. It was Peter's birthday this last weekend. He turned 25. Like the rest of us. Well, not all of us. I got Hayley and Alyson both reading comics. They really like Y: The Last Man. They should. It's good. They're on Top Ten now. I think I've had this conversation once before . . .

Classic

It's been real,

Joe Pi

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