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I'm Unemployed And All I Got Was A Lousy T-Shirt

2005-01-27 - 12:12 p.m.

Nostalgic Guilty Pleasure: King's Quest

Listening To: Mamas & the Papas, Dylan, America, Moody Blues, Television

Quote:"That's Ben's new band name, 'Pooper & The Dump Trucks!'" - TC

Wait a minute. I didn't even get a t-shirt! God damn it! Blargh. Besides, it probably would have been made of recycled farm animal sound blocks. If such a thing is even possible. Ok, we've had enough G-angst, so I will try to keep it to a minimum in this here entry. Small update though: Dinah has gone the way of the dinosaurs - the TrustFundasaurus or some such, and for the time being Fatty McAsserson is still employed but the gelatinous clock is a-tickin' on that there multiple dinner front as well.

"Mooo! If we can just sell another 470 of these on clearance we might just turn things around!

Remember that time I was unemployed? That was a fun time. But let us not focus on the burnt umber lining of the sitch, and instead the sparkly silver of it. For if I was still working under the scaly fist of the G, would I have been able to do the following:

Not last Friday, but one before that, after Kate and I finished watching Garden State [thumbs up to movie, thumbs upper up for the soundtrack], our ol' pal Justin joined us and convinced us that the best thing to do at close to midnight on a cold Friday is to go to Chili's. That Justin, so sage and wise and . . . something. The evening was worth itself in quotes alone. A smattering of which can be found . . . HERE:
"I'm the spray fucking master!" - Justin, in reaction to finding out he bested the haunted bear bottle opener in the kitchen
"More corndogs . . . less peaches and peas." - Kate
"Jinx! You owe me an Awesome Blossom!" - Zach
"I just poked myself with a chip . . . and it hurts . . . because I have sores." - Kate [Friend, remember to make sure to point out that I don't really have sores if you quote me. - Kate]
"Where there's one, there's more!" - Ranger Rick, aka Kate, when we spot a deer on the way home from Chili's.

But fun jokey time quotes aside, I'm sure I still could have done all that if I was still employed. Unless, you know, I was working 3rd shift on Friday nights at the Box Factory.

A pic of the evil bear bottle opener that has taken down many a foe with his nefarious ways - but as reported, Justin bested him. Oh yes, and I'm supposed to mention how Flat Eric is looking very "candid" in this shot. As soon as the camera hog saw me going to take a picture, he leapt from the living room over to the top of the coffee maker and insisted he be in the pic and it would look "candid". Uh huh. Because Flat Eric is forever lounging on the coffee maker. Whatever. I didn't want to get into a brawl with him, so I took the damn picture.

That next day, Ben and I drove down to Boston and met up with Pete Richmond, Tamara, and Olga. The last time we met up with them was pre-Stuff & Things, so I can't even link to it. They were in town to help Olga move into a new apartment. We checked out the apartment and then we all went to Sunset Grill (I think that's the name, TC will correct me if I wrong) and met up with TC and Jackie. It was a late lunch, and Pete and Tamara had to catch a plane so we bid them all adieu and TC, Spicy, Ben and I decided to stay for a few more beers, since, as TC thusly pointed out, they had about 7 million to pick from. Of course, that didn't stop me from ordering the blueberry beer every damn time. Creature de Habit is me. But then, oh my, was this ever a milestone - the 4 of us stayed at the restaurant so long that . . . we also had dinner there. It doesn't sound that significant I know, but have you ever had lunch and dinner in the same restaurant without having ever left? And no Jenn, 4 dinners at the same restaurant at the same time does not count. Anyway, Spicy's friends John and Pam met us there and I had a Hawaii-Five-O burger. Yes, that's right. A hamburger with HAM AND PINEAPPLE. Snap! It was tasty tasty. And then we went home.

So let's see, could that have happened if I was employed? Well, if it was at the Wallakers, then no - since I worked 702 consecutive Saturdays, so going to Boston for lunch/dinner would have been out. If I worked a regular M-F, 9-5 job like your average Kate, Kelly, or Waldi, then yeah, I probably could have.

And then my most fantabulous week ever started. In quick succession, the following things broke: My car (yes, again), my camera (!!), my phone (gasp!), and my femur. Ok, my femur didn't really break. But I did have a close call with both my scapula and my patella. But seriously folks, I had a shitty week. After the Bengineer convinced me to buy a $100 starter for my car at Pep Boys, we then realized that a starter was not what we needed. Stay tuned for the court fight that is Z. Foote vs. Pep Boys, in "The Case of the Suspiciously Slippery Starter." Though I'm not quite sure why a legal court case would sound so much like an Encyclopedia Brown book. But yeah, I had to bring my car the garage 3 times in 5 days, all the while we were getting pelted with feets upon feets of snow. Sweet. The car is finally "fixed" now though. In that it doesn't keep randomly locking itself all the live long day. Which, you know, is a nice feature. By the same token, it's workin' out for me. Sigh. What I do to please certain demographics in my readership. The phone is kind of fixed. Which means, since it shuts off every time I shut it, I've kept it open for the last three days straight. Seems to be doing the trick. The camera is totally back to normal, which makes me very happy. Now if I can just land a job, get new glasses, get the NewsRadio DVDs shipped to me early, and have circa-'92 Kim from The Pixies make me some english muffin pizzas I will be well on my way to turning around the last week of fucktastic awfulness into splendiferous lemonade!

Damn. I don't think we're ever going to get that radon leak checked out.

So yeah, this last snow filled weekend, in which we saw the Pats muckle the Steelers (NICE!), TC and Jackie came on down and took it upon themselves to cook up pizza and treats for me, Ben and Kate. Which, God knows, Kate and I had just finished a long and strenuous day of eating Chinese food and watching an "I Love the 90's: Part Deux" marathon and needed the extra love and attention. [Side note: As if I couldn't love Michael Ian Black more than I already do, during the "1995" segment, he espoused the virtues of NewsRadio and why people who don't like it are dumb and like Mad About You and people who love it are cool like Zach. I swear. Also - Greg Fitsimmons, watch your fucking two-toned, balding, unfunny back - because I will bury you alive. With scorpions. Ill-tempered and under-fed scorpions. So yeah.] We all had a super snowy sleepover in which the radon leak made us all much dumber than usual. Ben couldn't come up with the name, "Snow plow" when I was trying to give him a gimmie of a clear card question. Instead, he came out with, "Dump truck", which was the catalyst in TC's christening "Pooper and the Dump Trucks" (which was in itself the catalyst for me to have a dream involving a band named, "Pope and the Plow Boys", which was a "Pooper and the Dump Trucks" cover band. Yeah. I'm talkin' copious amounts of radon here.) Jackie brought "The 80's Game". The teams were TC & Jackie, Peter & Titie, Ben, Kate & Me. It was a lot of fun. Well, it was until, in shades of playing "Scene It" over at Brooke and Kyle's a few weeks ago, everyone decided I was to be ridiculed for my stupid sponge like ability to know stupid shit like the names of the cast in St. Elsewhere and what color the sprites are in Rainbrow Brite. Like with "Scene It", a "How about all of us vs. Zach?" contingent started. You mean-spirited awful people! Just because I don't have a heart doesn't mean I don't have emotions! Oh wait. It probably means I'm clinically dead though. And that means emotions are tough to come by as well. Oh well, scratch that.

I wish I had my camera working that weekend. Oh my yes. Just to capture us all jumping to and fro in the massive amounts of snow the next morning. But could I have done it all if I was employed? Well - probably, because wherever I'd be working would have probably been called for snow. Unless I was a plow truck driver. Or Inuit. Then I would have been fucked.

Then what? Oh - Kenichi and I just got into a blood feud that's all. Yup, just a friendly ol' BLOOD Feud. You know, between ol' friends. I'll try to make this short and not-so-sweet.

I try to bring Kenichi outside to take some fun pics of him in the snow. I'm an idiot for even thinking this was 1/12th of a good idea. It unfolds like so:

Kenichi wrestles away from my grip and bolts into the heavy snow to the left of the shed and towards the woods. I go off, smartly dressed in paper-thin sweat pants, trudging through the woods looking for him. I see many different animal tracks, from vicuna to vole, but Kenichi prints? No luck


So yeah. Then, when I decide to give up looking for him, and whistling for him, and "kiss, kiss, kiss, click, click, click"-ing for him, I see his fresh tracks leading under the shed. The shed. Which has about a 1/2 foot of clearance under it. So I get down into the snow (as evidenced by my knee prints in the snow) and see Chef glaring at me and refusing to come out because he's mad that I made him break his snow sabbatical to begin with. Plus, he seems kinda wedged under there. Did I mention that I'm positive he's borderline retarded? Because I'm quite sure he's crossed the border.


See, I'm not fucking around. He is PISSED. Cats *heart* being wedged under sheds with snow on their nose. And they show this love by sticking their ears out in a flat 180 degree fashion


So I give up on Chef Chen because he won't come any further out of the shed while I'm around. So I get up, brush myself off the best I can, and begin to make my way back to the house. Peter was coming back from getting his mail and sees me skulking about the backyard in a jacket and sweatpants and appropriately wonders aloud what the fuck I'm doing. As I explain to him, while the snow covers us in a ferocious cascade of white, that Kenichi's Picture Day went horribly awry - Kenichi takes this opportunity to try out for the Lakes Region's Action Attraction and greyhounds his way from the shed to the stairs at the back door.


At that point, Peter and I finish discussing the trial of public opinion on Doug Man-Cave-Itch, mostly because we realize we're freezing, and I turn around to face the accusing look of Kenichi. He may be framed in that delightful wrought iron heart, but I tell you people, he was not emoting love. Oh, no siree. It was all pure, cold, unadulterated hate. Don't believe?


Does that look like a fun time purr-box to you? 'Cause it don't to lil' ol' me. I can't say I blame him. It was not very nice of me to force him out into a snowstorm for some "candid" shots. I suppose I should have made Flat Eric my star. Oh well, Kenichi-Sight is 20/20. And you'd think Kenichi would hold a pretty rough grudge, huh?


This is 10 minutes later. Yeah. He's PRETTY angry as you can tell

So that's my story. I ate some stuff. And then it snowed. And then I ate some more. And then some stuff broke. And then it snowed some more. And then Kenichi and I threw down.

It's been real,

Zaffle


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