2004-07-16 - 7:00 p.m.

First - some custodial matters to take care of:

I've been asked why I didn't cover certain aspects of our trip to Boston last weekend. To wit:

- Being seated in the bleachers awash in a sea of UVM alumni

- Having the urinal in the Fenway men's room overflow and flood down on to my exposed toes

- Telling of the humorous phone calls I fielded while at the game

- Coming up with a scheme to buy lots of hot dogs (which were on special) at the bar and bring them home with us

- Descriptions of the crazy drunken ho's on the T who were pole dancing for all the T to see

- The Drunken Irish Mob that was singing Irish Fight Songs on the T (which only served to get Ben all misty)

- Simply Put: My Paper Towel Fetish

- More comical accounts of how Ben would walk up to any stranger and regale them with tales about Ireland/Scotland no matter how mundane his tale may be - i.e. - the average rainfall in Dublin during the Vernal Equinox

Well, there's a good reason none of that was covered. I didn't remember most of it that's why. Thanks to our good friend Beer. You know him. Always hangs out down by The Pits and Raccoon's Cliff. Yup - that's the one. I had more than a few occasions this week of people saying, "Zach, I think we already had this conversation . . ." [Me: Blank Stare] " . . . on the phone . . ." [Me: Blank Stare] " . . . while you were at the game . . ." [Me: "Say no more."] So yeah. That's why. Sorry. I don't know what I was going to write about the pole dancing, but I remember when I was watching it thinking, "This is gonna sound really funny when I write about it." That and, "I can't believe that trashy, trashy skank is pole dancing."

Ok - so anyway. I have had it up to here, no - HERE, with this "to leave a call back number, press 5" bullshit. What the fuck does that even MEAN?!? I don't know what cell phone carrier does this, but whichever one it is, 75% of my "friends" have it. #1 - Your phone is already going to show that you've missed my call, and with it - my number. #2 - And I can only assume that a "call back number" is the same as "my number". And if there's something that I really desperately need to talk to you about, I'm PROBABLY JUST GOING TO LEAVE A VOICEMAIL MESSAGE. The only merit I see in "pressing 5" and leaving a fucking "call back number" would be if I could leave a fradulent # on Rick's (or some such easy mark's) phone that would result in them accidentally calling Bonnie Ashworth. Or someone else of equal or more comedic value. (But I mean, come on? More comedic value than that??) All that said, I'll still take that insipid "to leave a fuckback fucker, press fuck" nonsense over the shit I get when my parents are out of range on their cell phones. Unlike NORMAL phones, which just go to voicemail if they aren't in reception, my parent's phones (which I want to say are U.S. Cellular) always say, "Message M.A.N. - The customer you are trying to reach is out of service." What? Hello? Did that automated fucker just call me MessageMan? I know they spell out M-A-N, but what does that stand for? "Machines Are Nothing But Cock Eating Fuckwads?" Ok, so I added too many letters. Whatever.

Coty is skulking around back in the Granite State for a few days and after a far too convoluted plan to try to see him last night or this weekend, we finally settled on hanging out on Monday night. He's coming to the Seacoast so as long as we don't go hang out anywhere that has people, dust, lights, or anything carbon-based, we probably won't make a scene.

I had some more things to write about but I suddenly have grown tired and plan to go suckle at the teat that is I Love The 90's and Best Week Ever. Whoooo - another crazy night for me.

It's been real,

Elevator Action & The Onion

ps - Note to self: This entry was originally entitled "Showerhead Revisited". A title you thought was too esoteric and beside perhaps Hannah and Stephen Hawking, no one would get it. Plus, you thought it would be too boring to get into the details of Summer of Shower Travails Part Deux. Which I think you made a good choice - since it was/would have been quite boring. Plus, you didn't want to get into what a Flashbacky McFuckMeUpTheGoatAss-erson this Summer is being in its attempts to mimic some of last Summer's patented tremulous lows.

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