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Lemon Diaper Wax

2005-02-08 - 10:12 p.m.

Things That Vex Me: Ice Fishing Augers, Universal Plate Brackets

Listening To: Santana, G. Love, Ben Harper, My Morning Jacket

Quote: "Cones? Cones. Cones?!" - Zach

And so this is Mardi Gras? And what have we learned? Another year over, another pan of brownies burned. God. The Patriots won the Super Bowl again?! They are just so bestest that it's getting boring. Ha, ha - no it's not. The Pats kicking the ass of every team in the NFL every year really isn't that boring at all. I just loved that Freddie Mitchell has taken upon himself to be the Derek Jeter of football - he's good, but you just hate him and his smug face anyway, and there's really no one you hate more, well, just one person - A Rod, or in this case T.O. - seriously, apparently you have to be an athelete who makes a tsunami charity amount of money to be able to be awesomest enough to give yourself the most butt-eatingly awful nickname and have the world just eat it up. If I just started going by "Zatch Qball!" I would think, and HOPE, that all my friends would stone me with very sharp and glittery stones. But apparently if I was some steroid clay face like Barry Bonds I could convince people that it was THE COOLEST! Whatever. The Pats are wicked awesome. Hannah & Brian's was a lot of fun. It was me, TC, Jackie (aka - disgraced Eagles fan), Ben, Fafu, Rachelle, Peter, Titie, Tom, Kim (and baby makes 3!), and Hannah's mom and dad. Brian, in typical cheese loving fashion, made sure there was one gallon of piping hot nacho cheese PER PERSON. Damn. He's like a cheesy god among men. There was tons of good food and great desserts and did I mention the Patriots won? And why? Because they're wicked awesome.

So when I worked at Patrick's, I reeked of lemons and fish. It's true. I would reek of fish, after having to de-ice some salmon or de-vein some shrimp or de-louse Lee or something, then, to get the fishy smell off, I'd have to wash my hands in lemon juice. And you can just bet that felt fantastic on my bloody hang nails (or my sores! - Kate). And when I was at G. Whoreikers I suppose I probably smelled like diapers. Maybe that's why Secret Crush never asked me to the Sadie Hawkins dance. She doesn't go for guys with "diaper smell". Just my luck, I meet the girl of my dreams and she thinks I'm too "pampers" for her taste. Sigh. And now? Now at my new job (that will remain nameless for the foreseeable future, in this Google Age we're living in) - but I can say is in the bracket of "Marine/Sports Equipment", in this new job my smell is of: Wax. Specifically, Boat Wax. "Don't inhale the fumes. It's dangerous", was the advice I was given. Grand. My arms feel like they're gonna fall off. I don't remember Daniel-San feeling so sore after Mr. Miyagi had him wax on and wax off his boat. Wait. That sounds more sexually sugesstive than I intended. So yeah, I'll give out bits and pieces about the job here and there. Here's a bit (or a piece - you decide): I have to go to Worcester first thing in the morning (of my "day off") and set up for a boat show. Until midnight. As in no comics/Lost/Alias MIDNIGHT. Don't cry for me, kaypapa kayak. Yeah, this job is gonna kick my ass. But in a good way - not an iron boot on Christmas Morning kind of way.

Also - Notify List is being a bitch again, and didn't properly send out the notification for the last entry: Here's the link. It's full of Flat Eric buttery goodness. I'm sure there was much more I wanted to write about on this Ash Wednesday Eve. But I'll be damned if I can think of it. Seriously, I should have been in bed ages ago since I have to finish 12 Herculean Labors tomorrow. Fuck. Cleaning out Augean Stables is gonna be such a bitch. (And 3 points to anyone other than Hannah "Classics" Eldridge who gets that reference)

What?! There were no pictures?! Hmmmm . . .

That oughta appease you little S.O.B.'s

It's been real,

Arthur Crandle

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2002 - 2009 ZQF8

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