January 2015 Archives

trophy shot

A scant 2610 miles and 77 hours after I left Pittsburgh, I pulled into Metamuville. Not much of note happened during the trip, which I suppose is a very good thing. Unannounced, I stopped in Minneapolis for an hour to have a cigar with Dirt Glazowski. From his perspective, he was watching TV inside with his buddy when he saw a dog taking a crap in his lawn.

"There's a motherfuckin' dog taking a crap in my lawn!" he snarled to his friend. "And some asshole is takin' a picture of it!" He was putting on shoes to pummel the photographer when he recognized Dex. "Oh. Of course."

the gentlemen

I'm preparing for my drive back to Seattle, so this is perhaps my last moment to mention something I saw during my drive here. Somewhere in rural Wisconsin is a "gentlemen's club" named Cruisin' Chubbys.

Points for honesty, I suppose. About a mile from my Pittsburgh pad is Cheerleaders Gentlemen's Club. I reckon there's only two things wrong with that name.

butt

As I entered the humidor, I held the door open for two clergymen. They were at the cigar bar for a bible study group that sometimes meets in the back. We chatted about smokes for a bit, and then we heard a roar of laughter from outside. I exited.

"What happened?" I said as the chortle continued to work its way around the room. I had missed the following exchange:

Risa: "Two priests and John walk into a humidor..."

Liz: "...and three atheists walk out."

gay bash

I entered the downscale cigar bar and was greeted by the usual gang, plus one.

"This is Dina," someone said. I introduced myself to Dina, seated next to me and visiting Pittsburgh for the day. In her mid-30s, pretty, and teaching her way through a doctoral program, she was also quite clearly gay. Clear to me, anyway. I might not have the most finely honed gaydar in Seattle, but I have to guess I'm close to taking that honor in Pittsburgh. We chatted about teaching, and she challenged me to a game of Jenga. Seeing this, Earl muscled his way into the game.

The three of us played, and I got a front-row seat to Earl obtusely hitting on a lesbian. Not content to merely flirt, he made one impossibly crude come-on after another. Slits and fisting both worked their way into the conversation, each followed by Earl's cackling laughter. "Just the tip!" he said as she pulled out a Jenga tile. "I bet that's not the first time you've heard that, HAR HAR HAR."

"It's a good thing you added the hars," I said. "Otherwise we wouldn't have known to laugh."

And on it went, him getting more and more brazen, her shooting me one helpless look after another. I wanted to apologize for my gender, but then again, screw that. I'm not owning Earl's stupidity. When she left, he demanded a hug. As he planted his mouth on hers in a surprise goodbye kiss, she looked at me, wide-eyed and horrified.

E-fucking-gad.

oh come, let's sing ohio's praise

I almost went to Columbus to watch the championship game, and now I rather wish I had. 40 fires set on campus, mass tear-gassing, armored personnel carriers....I have to stop. I'm getting all homesick.

My favorite of the stories: students broke into the dormant stadium and tore down the goal post. These are my people.

fog warning

I went on antibiotics and now I'm upright, more or less, mostly more. Although I'm relieved that the pneumonia is behind me, I'm more relieved that my Friends marathon lasted only 4.5 interminable, jackhammer-kind-of-repetitive seasons.

Why Friends? Because I was incapable of watching anything that required thought or following a plot. Thanks to low blood oxygen, my brain was hypoxic. I couldn't concentrate or pay attention. More than once I found myself staring at the Netflix timeout screen for an hour or more. Work emails came in, but I couldn't really understand all of them. I was so concerned about my impairment that I had Amy sit in on a meeting Friday because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to field any questions.

After the antibiotics kicked in, so did my brain. I went to bed stupid, and thoughts jolted me awake at 3am. A lot of thoughts. Pent-up thoughts, perhaps. My brain was back and the crushing stupidity, gone. I felt a wave of gratitude, along with a newfound empathy for those people who stand up in the middle of plays at games.

pneumonic device

Sorry about the lack of updates, folks. I've got pneumonia. Energy (and anecdotes) are in short supply. Hopefully, I'll be upright again soon. Actually, hopefully, I'll die of this and won't have to do the drive back to Seattle.

black sheep

My sister chided me at the Ohio State/Michigan game. "I cannot believe you're booing the Michigan band," she said, face in hands.

"The only reason I'm booing is because I don't have any 9-volt batteries," I explained.

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