God, I couldn't be less inspired to do a blog posting if I tried. But it's been about a week, and a certain pain-in-the-ass is giving me shit (again), so what the hell. Let's slap a stamp on it and mail this fucker in. Before we get to the actual post (which relates to the post title), I figured we'd do a quick bit of catch-up.
Life has actually been pretty good (and maybe that's the problem). Of course, last week at work was the exception. My boss was on vacation, and whenever she goes on vacation, all hell breaks loose. Last week we had a kid overdose on heroin and die in one of the bathrooms of the developments we manage. Jesus. Talk about depressing. And now we're dealing with cops and family members and the whole mess is just sad.
Then we had the cops try to serve a warrant on one of our more unsavory residents. He ended up jumping out of a window with a gun and knife in hand, fleeing into a neighboring apartment, knocking the woman there around, and then holding a knife to his own throat to try to get the cops to back off. The cops, after he busted out the window, ended up calling in S.W.A.T., tore the place apart, and needless to say, did not back off. Cops don't like it when you run away, and they don't particularly like it when you beat up helpless women while doing so. Anyhoo, I suspect the official report is gonna say he fell both up and down the stairs, if you get my meaning. They ended up finding 120 grams of cocaine, a .380 pistol, a .45 pistol, several rounds of ammo, $20,000 in cash and a fully loaded, fully modified AK-47 in his apartment.
So yeah. How was your work week?
In more fun news, I'm going to see the Rebirth Brass Band on Friday, which should be awesome. Then Saturday one of my good friends from college is coming to visit, who I haven't seen in years. The the next weekend we're going to Provincetown with a bunch of friends, which should be a big, gay (it is P-Town, after all) blast. THEN my sister's coming for Labor Day weekend, which should be... well, we all know what happens when she and I get together.
Next month I'm doing a bachelor party/camping trip, a business trip to L.A., and then a wedding.
Jesus. I'm exhausted just writing all of that.
I figured that you all know me well enough, so it's worth noting that I haven't injured myself, nor embarrassed myself, in about 2 weeks. Except for Saturday night when I was drunk and tried to pick up the metal cover to our firepit and burned four out of five fingers. Oh, and last week I tripped on a blanket and went flying head first into my closet, ending up with a face full of shoes.
Let's finish up with a completely random and ridiculous story. Monday night, I was at a friends house, watching baseball and drinking and getting high and eating Chinese food, because that's how I roll on a motherfuckin' Monday beeotch and shut up I don't have a problem and I don't need to talk to anyone and someone please hold me oh God I just need some attention oh please someone make the pain stop...
Whoa. That was strange. Who saw that coming?
Anyway. Monday I was at a friend's house... um... discussing French philosophy and eating salads before heading home for an early bedtime. And we ordered Chinese food, and two of us got the exact same fortune. I mean, exact same, front and back. Weird, no?
Well fuck a bunch of weird, because I can beat that shit. When I was in college at UW-Madison, my friend Phil and I used to go to the same Chinese place every Friday. We never used to pay attention to the fortune cookies, and just toss them. Then one week we decide to open them. Of course, this was 13 or 14 years ago, so I forget the specific language, but we open them, and Phil's says something to the tune of "You will receive great wealth and accolades in your life".
Mine? Mine is blank. Seriously. It's a blank piece of paper. So I freak out a little, but being a naturally cynical guy, it doesn't bother me too much.
The following week we go back, we eat, we have a good time, and then we sit there looking at the fortune cookies. Phil looks at me, and tells me to pick first. I pick mine, he takes his, we open them. Again, Phil's is a prediction of prosperity and wonderfulness.
Mine is fucking blank. Again. I shit you not. It's like I'm cursed.
Now I'm more than a little freaked out. I mean, two blank fortunes, two weeks in a row? What are the odds? I mean, who among you has EVER received a blank fortune in a cookie? And now I get two in a row?
The following week I tell Phil I'm done. I'm never eating there again. He begs, he pleads (it's worth noting that the food here was really fucking good). I cave, and off we go.
Eat our meals. And then it's time. I'm actually getting genuinely scared. I mean seriously worried. We do the same thing. Phil lets me pick. He opens his. Fortune and Glory, once again.
Fortune and glory. My turn. My hands are literally trembling. I smile a shaky smile, open the wrapper, crack open the cookie and...
Nothing. No, not blank again.
Nothing. The fucking thing is EMPTY. No fortune inside.
I never went back. Two months later the place closed down.
Have a good week.
Listening to: RJD2 - Fuck A Soundcheck