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Sepia Decimals

2005-07-31 - 10:00 a.m.

What I'm Watching: Reno 911, Stella, Old Grey Whistle Test, Life & Death of Peter Sellers

Listening To: The Doors, Powderfinger, TH, Brian Eno, The Band, Guster

Quote:'Friend, it's my security Misty.' - Zach, to Kate, explaining why he no let go of his Misty

Um, Kapler? Excuse me . . . Kapler? When one gives you a proper send off, it's considered impolite to come barging back. Oh who am I fooling? I can't stay made at you, Gabe Kapler!

Oh my Red Sox, what is happening with you? All this discord and strife. You'd think you were run by the Baldi Family. And not a co-operative of extremely wealthy liberal businessmen. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It seems like not a day goes by that Johnny doesn't announce that he'd be willing to play for any team, whether it be the Cubs, the Brewers, or the Franklin Golden Tornados. Manny seems to just be causing trouble for the sake of causing trouble. Schilling is trying to be den mother, despite the fact that no one wants him to. Millar is pissed that he's no longer considered "the pissy one". Clement keeps having his "sleepy" spells. Arroyo is out all night clubbing and playing his gee-tar. Foulke is still rehabing at Burger King. Parts of Nixon keep falling off. Embree, aka - "the human gremlin", is a sleeper agent for New York now. At least Wells is being predictable and is just eating crate loads of onion rings and chugging bathtub gin while he's not pitching. And sometimes even when he is. I know the Sox seem to thrive on controversy, but as a wise old man once said, "enough is e-fucking-nough."

Shhhhh. Don't wake him. He swam all day and then played tv tag after that. He done wore himself out. What a little angel.

According to D-land, I've been writing on this here site for 942.3 days. That's . . . that's a lot of days. It also corresponds to the "General History of Europe: England & Wales" on the Dewey Decimal System. Damn! Hot damn! Ohhh, let's see what my birthday translates too! 828 = "English Miscellaneous Writings" That's pretty sweet I guess. But 827 = "English Satire & Humor". That would have been even sweeter. I could make a case for 878, but that would = "Latin Miscellaneous Writings", and who, other than maybe TC and Eldridge, would want that?! Check to see what you are on the Dewey Decimal System! Whoever has the funniest one correspond to their birthday (either by month/year, or month/day, however) will get . . . I don't know, a prize or something. So if you want to be eligible for said "mystery prize" (ohhh! a mystery!) then leave your comment with your #s and what they equal. This will be funny if you fuckbrains actually participate. Which, I'm sure, means that you won't. Anyway, I like it.

This is where I get all Soapy McBoxy for a brief moment. Here's the deal. I'm me. I'm the only me I'm ever going to be. I can change me up to an extent. I can go long stretches without biting my nails, but usually when I'm super nervous I tend to fall off the wagon briefly. I'm pretty loud. Which isn't to say I can't sotto voce with the best of them. But I think I pretty much come as advertised. Actually, that's not entirely true. I feel I advertise myself to be much funnier, much nicer, and more level-headed than I really am. So it's not someones fault if they don't know me very well for thinking I'm much cooler than I really am. So they can get a free pass. But anyone else that has known me for, oh, I don't know, anywhere between 5 - 27 years? You don't really have much ground to stand on. Which sounds like I'm making a grand argument entitled, "Zach Is An Asshole, Get Used To It." Not true. Well, I mean, sure, I can be an asshole, but that's not the argument I'm making right now. [Oh shit, TH's "Memories Can't Wait" just came on random and that song always makes me write down and not up. Perhaps I should pause. Nope, I say plow on! Plow on!] I'm me. Like it or not. Love it or leave it. If you like me for me, that's awesome. I think I'm pretty sweet too, thanks for playing. But if you don't like me? {And I question you reading this site if you don't - well, no I don't. I read sites of people I don't like, so scratch that}. But yeah, if you don't like me? That's cool. But don't like me. Don't kinda like me. Or sorta like me. This is me. I'm loud. And like the color blue. And I like to listen to songs on repeat. And reread To Kill A Mockingbird every summer. And I watch Red Sox games from a doorway sometimes because I get superstitious. And I read comic books. And I watch a lot of tv. And if I strongly disagree with something I say so. And if think something is ridiculously awkward, it's my nature to try to make it either more comfortable, and if that fails, brain-numbingly MORE AWKWARD! And if I had a choice I'd spend all day swimming and reading and eating Sno-Cones (but not at the same time). And if you don't like that?! THAT'S COOL. Just don't like me when it's convenient. Don't like me when it's safe. Don't like me when it makes you feel better about yourself. Because that? Is not cool. And if I embarrass you? Then we were probably never really friends anyway. Maybe I'll die penniless, friendless, and found in nothing but an orange tunic, and that's fine for then, because right now I'm doing just fine. Or something. (See? I've never met a paragraph I can't undercut! Three cheers for undercutting!)

Here I am! Right here! Sitting in my chair! With these shorts on that I just won't change out of! I love them! I'm sorry! Just like I'm sorry about all these exclamation points! [Side Note: I'm not sorry at all about all those exclamation points.] So the other night, Peter, Titie and I were watching tv over at my house and it was inbetween thunderstorms. Thunderstorms we were very happy to have since it had been on average 99 degrees for like 3 straight days. Well, it was almost 8 o'clock, and since we're in the tail end of July, it's not staying light until 9 anymore. Sad. TC and I used to fucking live for 9 o'clock darkness. He will be the first to tell you. If he could walk down to my house on Holman from his house past 8:30 and it was still light out? Well damn, that's a honey of a ham. Or something. Anyway, before I was rudely interupted by my own digression, I believe I was talking about between storm time. You know the first 10 minutes of Wizard of Oz? When everything is all sepia and olde-tyme? Well if you mix that with urine, gold dust, sunflowers from Grovers Corners, and my Spam shirt, that's about what the sky looked like. It was like we were wearing BlueBlockers! But we weren't wearing BlueBlockers! So we finally went outside to get a better look. And son-of-a-horcrux was it incredible! The sky was that sickly golden yellow, the sun was setting under the clouds, the moon was out, a rainbow was arched across the sky, and it was starting to rain. Did someone order an entire Crayola Box of Fucked-Up? Well, I took a picture of it, and it's pretty damned sweet if I do say so myself. And I do.

My dad was supposed to come down today and watch some Alias with me, as he is catching up/watching Season 3 for the first time. He changed the plans and then suggested I should come up there instead. And watch it up there. With them. With . . . them. And go out on the boat. And put my chin up. And bet my bottom dollar. Fuck that! If I ain't bettin' my top dollar, I sure as hell ain't bettin' my bottom fucking dollar! My bottom dollar! Jump the gun. Good one, BETH. But yeah, so now he's annoyed with me for not wanting to eat hornets on my day off when he could have driven down here and we could have actually hung out in a non-work setting for the first time since . . . I honestly don't know, and watch Alias - one of my favorite past times, and just hang out - and what the fuck ever, I don't care. If people in my life are going to carry on being so clueless, it's not my fault. I love that I'm considered stubborn when I wait for people to come around to my way of thinking, but when people expect me to come around to their way of thinking, and I don't, I'm considered unreasonable and, you guessed it, stubborn. How does that work again? Plus, damn, I'm getting my moneys worth out of this html code for italics huh? Oh my! Italics IN Italics?! Delicious!

Sometimes when I'm dealing with a customer at work, for like a split-second I'll lose focus in my brain and an image will freeze on to my synapses, like a bottle of light beer I don't usually drink. Or a surfboard. Or Lake Opechee at sundown. Or a tie-dye shirt. And then I kind of shake my head and rattle it out and I feel like I've been frozen for about 30 seconds, but the customer is still nattering about an anchor or some valve and I realize it's been all of 2, maybe 3, seconds and I just kind of swallow and keep listening. Or talking. Or whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing. What am I supposed to be doing again?

It's been real,

Rory Gallagher

ps - the results to the last poll, "What did you buy TC for his birthday?" were as follows: A 4 way tie for 4th place, with 1 vote each, and 7% going to, "Gift Certificate to the Golden Corral", "6 Cases of Moxie", "The Skeleton of John Stark", and "a dino-bot". 3rd place, with 2 votes, and 13%, went to, "The Skeleton of Eric Montross", which to be honest, was my favorite choice. 2nd place illustrated just how much you all hate Tim Curtis in that 4 of you (27%) voted for "a wall-size poster of Drew Barrymore", one of TC's greatest arch-nemiseses. Kudos to you all! But it was in first place, with 33% and 5 votes (including one from the poll's subject), that a copy of "Onyx's 'Bacdafucup'" album landed. A good show all around!



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