1e) The Professor

My roommate has a new job at a respected local company. One of her duties is assisting the octogenarian owner of the firm, a street-savvy Brooklynite who appears to be fraying at the edges a bit. Stories about this man (let's call him Len) have been cracking me up for weeks now. Such as:

-Asking my roomie if she could train him on "The Google."

-When his hearing aid went on the blink, calling the manufacturer to get it fixed, then hanging up on them in a huff because (for some reason) he couldn't hear what they were saying.

-Getting in the elevator, wishing my roommate a good weekend, then pushing the alarm button. As the siren blared through the building, Len stood there smiling, waiting for the elevator to take him down. Someone had to tell him what he had done.

1d) Vinnie Redux

You may remember that back in November, I got a haircut from a salty Boston character named Vinnie. Yesterday, I returned. Highlights (not a hair pun):

-The Playboys sitting on the stack of 'regular' magazines in the waiting area.

-As soon as I sat down, Vinnie asked if I minded watching the horse races. Apparently there's a network for compulsive gamblers that allows you to watch horse racing around the clock. The race of the moment was in South Africa. Vinnie told me to pick a horse to "pretend bet" on. All of a sudden I was eight years old again, watching the Superbowl with my dad.

"But I don't know who to pick, I've never done this before."
"C'mon just pick one, it'll be fun!"
"Okay, number 3."
"Hey that's a good one! Look at 'im go, he's in second, you're good at this!"
sheepish- "Thanks Vinnie."

-During the haircut, a flamey old businessman with a comb-over sashayed into the shop. He said this was his first visit and Vinnie quipped, "You've come to the right place!" Then the businessman said (and I quote,) "Maybe we should ask the handsome young gentleman if he likes his haircut...he looks like he just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine!" The gentleman then assured me he used to be "hot stuff" when he was younger. I'm assuming he did not peruse the Playboys while he waited.

-My haircut looks like John Lennon, circa Rubber Soul.

-Yes, I got my eyebrows trimmed again.

1c) Loop

So I put a song (Woke Up New by the Mountain Goats) on my MySpace profile that I've been obsessing over for a week now. Seriously, some nights I will listen to it ten times in a row. I don't know if it's healthy to spend so much time listening to one thing over and over again. Especially when it's a devastating breakup song and you're in a healthy happy relationship.

The other day Jon was singing the song when I came into work. Apparently I had played it so many times the night before that it had wormed its way into his dreams. Yesterday I suggested that I was going to get trapped in the song like the girl in Poltergeist. "What'll I do...without Jesse?"

So I implore you my readers, go and give this great tune a listen! Within a day or two, I'll have put up a different song forever.

p.s.

Thanks Stranger Bill!

1b) From the mouths of babes

This weekend I visited my extended family for a long-overdue Christmas present exchange. At one point my wee cousin Evan had a secret to tell me. It makes sense we have secrets- after all, him and I are the only members of the Cheese Club, a group he invented for the avid dairy enthusiast (by-law: eat cheese always.) So it stands to reason there might be secrets for us to share. This wasn't about cheese, though:

"Jesse when I was in my mom's stomach (aka womb,) I turned from a solid into a gas and escaped into the world. Everyone just thinks I was born on my birthday, I actually came out much earlier."

I asked his mom if he's studying solids, liquids and gases and she said, "Yes, but not in school." Profound shit for a five-year-old.

1a) Six-pack

Hi everybody!

That has got to be the weakest marathon ever. I said I'd do it in 24 hours, it has been over a week. Picture me as Tiny Tim, weakly crutching over the finish line long after the cameras and winners have gone home to bed. The few remaining spectators let out a big cheer and hoist Timmy on their shoulders. The crowning glory- a special purple ribbon marked 'Participant.'

With only one post left in my self-made mission, I'm going to cover six topics. I will try to practice word economy so you can get back to your favorite websites.

a) Didier has been gone since Sunday morning. A stalwart indoor-outdoor cat, we weren't too worried at first. Our big fear- Boston temperatures cold enough to re-freeze the glaciers. I love popsicles as much as the next guy, but not when they're made of cat.

As much as we've had our disagreements, I've found myself really shaken by Didier's disappearance. In these turbulent times, he was such a constant, normal part of my life that his absence really affected me. I never liked my crusty old third-grade teacher but if she had gotten smashed while playing in traffic, I would've been sad in the pants.

Anyway, we put up a Craigslist ad, a picture on the Somerville Animal Control website, posters throughout the neighborhood, the whole nine yards. Things weren't looking good though, and last night I slipped up and talked about Didier in the past tense.

Then this morning as I was sipping my coffee outside, Didier came running up out of nowhere! His collar was gone and he seemed a bit freaked out, but otherwise he was the same hissing old crank-pot we hate to love. Joanna said that Didier came home because he saw the posters. She also said he smells like another woman! I will now call him man-whore.

p.s. If you read the Craigslist ad, you'll see Didier has a microchip implanted in him for tracking. Sooooo...

2) Something in the air

Okay friends, it's time to come clean (if that's even possible.) I'm ankle-deep in the forbidden love between man and skunk. I know, I know, these things never work out. I've seen enough Pepe cartoons to know that the love is sweet until the stink starts flowing.

But the thing is, that I've already seen Mr. Skunkle's worst side. He lives right outside my window and has started freaking out and making squealy infant noises late at night. Also he released his stinkload several times, so strong that my eyes watered while lying in bed. I've witnessed how bad it can get.

But last night, as I was sitting outside smoking a cigarette before bed, I saw the little guy wandering around sniffing stuff and burrowing here and there. He had a funny shuffling little gait and the innocence and curiosity of a child.

All of a sudden my heart went out to him, I realized it must be pretty lonely to be a skunk. The misunderstandings, the ostracism, the pain! Maybe his horrible midnight mewling and his stink bombs are just a cry for love! Maybe I am the man who can see through his outer repugnance and love the little kitten within! Maybe I shouldn't smoke so much pot.

related note- Don't be alarmed, Rebecca is very open-minded about my sexy skunkings. In fact, she bought me a ceramic skunk for Christmas and signed herself up for this mission in Toronto.

3) Your face will stay that way

My workfriend Elizabeth lost a bet, this is her punishment. Let this be a warning to the rest of you.

4a) Post Script

Alli informs me that one of the arrested artists was an old friend of hers and people everywhere are rallying to his defense. She told me the bail was $100,000 but I just saw he was released for $2,500.

One of my favorite aspects of this incident is the contrast between-
-Huge taxpayer expense and care spent 'detonating' the Lite Brites in special explosives labs.
and
-The photo I saw on the news of some Boston college kid holding one of the devices and grinning two weeks ago. What a brave man!

4) Boston's Finest

I'm sure I'm the first snarky blogster to comment on yesterday's ludicrous events in Boston. I am glad to have such an eye for the absurd.

For those not in the know, 'bombs' started showing up around Boston yesterday, under bridges, at subway stations and Fenway Park. Homeland Security, the FBI, the Canadian Mounties and the French Foreign Legion were all called in to deal with the situation. Trains were shut down, roadblocks were set up on the highway, children were taken from their mothers, litterers were executed. It was quite the shitshow.

We received periodic emails from some operations manager at work, giving us updates on the situation. The whole thing put people on pins and needles, as it should. Bombs kill innocent people all over this messed-up world, so why not Boston? Just because I'm sipping my latte and making dirty jokes, doesn't exempt me from the world's angermongers.

Oh wait, what's that you say? They weren't bombs at all? Turner Broadcast Networks is apologizing to the people of Boston?

As it turns out, it was all part of a guerilla advertising campaign for Aqua Teen Hunger Force, the long-running staple of Adult Swim. The bombs were actually Lite-Brites, adorned with the image of ignignokt, the character pictured here.

Turner distributed these little marketing ploys in heavily-trafficked areas of ten different cities. Yet only in humorless Boston were the Lite-Brites mistaken for anything other than they were.

Now Mayor Menino is out for blood, saying that perpetrators of "terror hoaxes" should be crushed by the Iron Fist of the law. The Boston Globe editorial page agrees, saying Turner was irresponsible to put fake bombs everywhere and needs to pay. The artists who actually put the Lite-Brites up have been arrested.

Um guys, stop making this more embarassing for everybody, m'kay? These were not fake bombs, they were little toys. Just because you freaked out and spent over $800,000(!) putting Boston under martial law doesn't mean it's anything more than a dumb misunderstanding. Calling this a terror hoax makes me want to scream and laugh all at once. I wish I had separate chambers in my mouth.