FOUND:

beside the parking lot of my apartment building today at 4:01 pm:

Update

What have I been up to as of late you ask? Well, not a whole lot, but here's a week-in review submitted for your reading pleasure.

• The Dave Matthew's concert was a smashing success, I think. I'm ashamed to say that I paid absolutely no attention to the performance, but had a great time anyway. The traditional tailgating ritual turned into a frat party about a half an hour into it when it was decided that "shotgunning" beers was in order. That was the downfall of the entire night as I see it. But it was complete with gourmet burgers, peeing in the woods and a visit from some random pot-smoking stranger-friends sporting "Dee's Nuts" tee-shirts. Fast-forward about 4 hours to the concert which included $8 beers, a lost pair of shoes and a French-speaking friend and I running through the crowd jumping over people and yelling "It's O.K.! We Speak French."
• I'm preparing myself for a golf outing for work this coming weekend. My foursome includes myself and 3 middle aged women. All of whom play little to no golf. I've been out golfing maybe three times before, none of which would I ever consider elevated my playing ability. Stay tuned for the embarrassing update and pictures.
• I've been on the hunt for a new place to live with no luck in sight. My current living situation is alright, however I'm growing very tired of living under and over someone. Buying is not an option a) because I have no desire for the financial and physical responsibilities b) I am in absolutely no position to cough up any amount of house-buying cash. My search by word of mouth and online has made me feel frustrated and inadequate on a number of levels and am starting to resign myself to signing over another lease for my apartment, at least for one more year.
• I was told today by a 14 year old that I certainly wasn't the type of person to party or have fun and probably find myself sipping tea instead of "really partying". Actually, I think the term "with your pinky up" was included also. I simply agreed in modest humility and neglected to tell the youngster that I had a hard time remembering my name the previous weekend.
• Yesterday evening, in search for something "Mmm Mmm Mmm Toasty" and over priced, I dropped by Quizno's for dinner. When I asked the kid making my sandwich for the "Turkey Bacon Guacamole" sandwich, his only reply was "Gross", and made my meal in silence. Ok, thanks Quizno's kid, my guamalee was, in fact, quite delicious.
• Along with my housing search, I've also been looking (although with an obvious lack of enthusiasm) for graduate programs to obtain a Master's degree. My specifications are a bit specific, as I want/need an intensive summer program, however, the idea of it all stresses me out to the extent that every time I begin to do some research I have to take a permanent break.
• Over the weekend I watched the entire first season of "Big Love" which I really do love. I'm not sure if it's the creepy/well-written story line or the fact that you're guaranteed a graphic sex-scene in every episode, but I'm definitely a fan of the series.
  

The Best Dilvery Of News Ever

I'll give you the conversation first, and let you guess the news.
I agree to meet a friend from work at a bar this afternoon. He approaches the bar:

Me: "Where the hell have you been? I'm half drunk already."
Friend: "Ok, you wanna kick me in the nuts?"
Me: "No fucking shit! Congratulations!"

Give up? That's how he told me he and his wife are having a baby. I love how normally when that news is broken it's exciting and emotional, but somehow most things with me seem to lack a certain class and social standard. I also wish there were no background to that story, and that was the typical way to tell friends you're expecting. But, as the story goes, when he told me a while back that he and his wife were thinking about having a kid, I blankly said the day he tells me he is having a child I will inflict said pain onto him because that means it would be the beginning of the end. In all actuality, I'm quite happy for him, and I didn't kick him, but it got me to thinking today, "Why am I so anti-baby?"

I don't hate children, I don't even hate babies. I do, however, get annoyed when they're whining, crying or running around their upstairs apartment like a maniac while their neighbor below is attempting to relax and do some blogging while trying his absolute hardest not to flip shit and start screaming through the ceiling, but I wouldn't say I hate them. I also know that at the end of the day, kids are going home to their families, and I'm going home to my quiet and relaxing place, devoid of all Pack and Plays and Hannah Montana dvds.

I've never really wanted children, and the older I get the stronger my convictions become about raising a child. As I've said before, I spend my entire day with other people's kids, why would I want to come home to my own. "But you'll feel differently once you have one" seems to be a popular rebuttal. Excuse me, did you just hear what I said? I said I'm not having one. I don't doubt that you do feel differently about a child once you have one, because you have one. I don't necessarily feel like I needed the Reese's peanut butter egg I just ate, but I felt differently because I had one sitting on my counter.

I don't mean to sound cynical against people who want to have children. In fact, I have had several fleeting thoughts of fatherhood. Some that have downright freaked me out. But they have been just that, fleeting. Perhaps it's my age and the fact that I'm not close to settling down just yet, but I've always felt that I want to live my life as my own, and not be responsible for anyone else. I'm a bit too selfish at this stage in the game to be worried about anyone else. And I swear to God if they don't quit running upstairs I'm going to loose my shit.

2 Strange Encounters Of The Day

This morning, while on my way out to the store, a boy who lives next door was out playing in the snow by my car. I said "Hey Buddy, what are you making?" thinking it would be nice to make some small talk with the kid. Instead of a response, he looked at me with fear in his eyes, gasped and ran into his house. It reminded me of the reaction of Macaulay Culkin in "Home Alone" when he first meets the scary old man. I don't think I'm old or scary, and am still puzzled by the reaction.

Strange encounter #2. This evening while on my porch for a smoke, a man pulls up in a really nice BMW convertible, gets out and says "Hey Paul! How you doing?" Response: "Sorry, I'm not Paul". The man apologizes, then gets a small dog out of the car, and sets it on the ground. The man then starts speaking to the dog in "baby-talk" and makes a series of long weird beeping sounds. I politely finished my cigarette early and locked the door.

I just finished searching ads for other places to live.

On an up note, I'm awaiting the arrival of the Jackons for some dinner and hijinx no doubt. I've also been scouring the internet for a last minute deal to just about anywhere. A colleague booked a weekend flight to Europe several weeks ago for next to nothing right at the last minute. I'm so ready to pick up and leave I was looking for flights that leave tomorrow morning. No luck, but I'll still be looking. Perhaps my next post will come to you from the beach.

Freek A Leek

A brief run-down of the weekend that was.

• I discovered very quickly this weekend, that I can not, in fact, out drink my parents.
• I also learned the phrase "Fuckle-Up and Drive Safely" will undoubtedly make my aunt laugh every time.
  
• I decided this morning to make some vegetable soup. Yeah, I'm not so sure why either. I am cooking with leeks for the first time ever. They looked fun at the grocery store yesterday. Some people impulse buy Kit-Kats. I buy produce.
• I'm trying to justify why I buy a Sunday paper every weekend, because I never read it thoroughly. I don't even clip the coupons. I think I just want the people at the store to think I'm reading it when I buy it.
• Yesterday I bought a cashmere sweater for $8. Quite possibly the bargain of the month.
• This morning, I was awakened by a man in another apartment shrieking. I'm not sure whether to be alarmed, intrigued or concerned. One thing I am sure about though, is that I need to move.
  
• One more thing I learned: a shot of Crown Royal and sweet lime juice is actually not as bad as it sounds.
• I have been burning Nag Champa Gold incense and playing Radiohead CDs practically the entire time I've been in my apartment this weekend. I'm either becoming Indie on the outside, or an emo-stoner. I can't decide which is better.

Simplify

Since I have one of the few jobs that permits me to stay home and cozy when the weather is bad, I decided to make my day off today a productive one and do a little cleaning. Nothing major, just some tidying, which I wanted to do this week anyway because my parents are coming down for a visit on Friday, and I hate to have them come to a dirty place. As I began cleaning I was overwhelmed with the sheer amount of stuff I have in my apartment. I am, and always have been, a pack rat, which is one characteristic about myself of which I'm beginning to get quite annoyed. Perhaps "Pack Rat" isn't the most accurate description, since I like to have things tidy and everything does have it's place, but more "Collector of Shit". (However, according to this survey, I'm a "Pack Rat in Training".) I have always had way more stuff than I need, and my living spaces have usually looked more like a TGI Friday's than a home. In my modest apartment, for example, I have 9 clocks, 3 different sets of drinking classes, 2 sets of coasters, 10 lamps, tons of books and countless knick-knacks all over the place. My problem is that I don't know when to quit buying shit or get rid of old things I don't particularly like anymore. Under the futon in my spare room is packed with framed pictures and art that I just don't have wall space for or don't like anymore. But I refuse to get rid of them. Most of the items collecting dust somewhere around here I won't get rid of either because I do genuinely like them, even if there is no space for them, or they have some sort of sentimental attachment which prevents me from throwing them away. I do have to say that I love my place and the decor of each room, but at times it gets overwhelming to think about the massive amounts of things I have to pack up if and when I ever move. To the naked eye my place looks neat and not so bad, but open any drawer of closet door, and you have to protect your eyes from projectiles flying out because they are so jammed full. A friend once told me her mantra in life was "Simplify", simplify your life from things, people and situations you don't need. I love this idea, and am going to try to practice that with my collection of accouterments, just as soon as I can bear to give one of them up.

Never Have I Ever...

Stayed at someone's place as a guest for two weeks and invited people over for the Super Bowl that that person doesn't know. Or ask.

The complete story to follow.

Silence Is Golden

As of the beginning of the year, a young couple with a two year old daughter moved into the apartment above me. They have not stopped jumping up and down and slamming cupboards all night, and their daughter has been running back and forth in the living room for one and a half solid hours. If it doesn't stop in fifteen minutes, I'm going up there.