2006-07-31 - 8:59 p.m.

I guess I should tell you right off the bat that the Indian Sprint/Nextel salesman likes to call me, "Ass-Cherry." Well, let me explain - and I can explain - he actually calls me, "Az-Chary" [Pronounced, "AZ-Sha-ree"]. Um - so, ok, I guess he thinks the "ch" in my name is pronounced with a soft, "ch" as in "cherry", but the ZA = AZ??? He just randomly transposes consonants? And makes it sound like "Ass Cherry"?!?!?! Not cool. I almost started an unintentionl race war with him the last time I went into the Sprint/Nextel store 4 months ago. I thought I'd give him enough time to either forget about me or to learn how to say the word "camcorder". Neither happened. He remembered me and he says, "Kam-CODDER." Which, yeah - I don't know. Moral of the story? I still didn't get a new phone.

It's been a long time, eh? A very long time. I thought I just may give up on ol' Stuff & Things for good. And I suppose I did - for a while. Just not, "for good." Things were getting too hot in this cyber-kitchen and I decided I couldn't stand the heat. And by, "too hot", I mean, "friends siding with Iron Man instead of Captain America and not realizing how much damage it would do in the long run." Oh wait, am I thinking of Civil War (the summer crossover at Marvel)? Or am I thinking of the permanent fissure between Ben and me? Is there really any difference? I suppose so - one involves She-Hulk and one doesn't. You be the judge on which is which. Whatever - the moral of the story? I have a longer memory than my long, long hair and some things I'll forgive but none will I ever forget. That includes those with the, "best intentions."

I feel like in the last month + 3/4 of my remaining non-married friends got married. Fred/Ellen, Justin/Renee, Hannah/Richard, & Shannon/Ben all got married. And Beth/Ryan are looking at September and Kelly/Jim in December. Us non-marrieds are truly becoming an endangered species. Get it?! I get it. Moral of the story? Maura Tierney just got a divorce and won't stop leaving me dirty messages on my voicemail. God bless her.

I feel like so much has happened since my last entry. Probably because it has. Much swimming and running and drinking and dodging and reconstituting and checking of MySpace and burning CDs and stalking Flatbread waitresses and chilling with my faux brothers and chilling with my real brother and reading comics and writing paragraphs about chimeras and chiffarobes and watching the Sox wish and wash their way in and out of my heart and dipping things in chocolate fountains and getting my hand ripped open by Snowshoe and finding an apartment with future roommates and surprise partying in Center Harbor and watching the water appear to be velvet with friends over a beer and drinking unintentionally gay frozen blueberry drinks with friends and rediscovering why you're friends with people while the bartender keeps slipping you free Silver Bullets. Moral of the story? Real friends always make time for you. Even if you don't see them for days, weeks, months, or years. If people care about more than themselves, they'll make time for you.

This summer has showed me who my real friends are. And I guess I needed that wake-up call. I mean, some people have to sit on the fence because of their situations - and I understand that. But some don't - and I don't understand that. But that's cool. I'm going to the Counting Crows concert tomorrow night with Andrea, Kate and Rick. It should be fun. In fact, I know it will be fun. No moral there.

Lastly, it may not be that people change - but that people stay the same and you just don't realize how static they stayed until you yourself changed. And that's all I have to say about that. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm sure that's not all I have to say about that.

It's been real,

Master Splinter

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