This morning we have a few random snippets from the last few days around the horn in an effort to bring some vague semblance of meaning to a random, chaotic universe.
- At work on Thursday in one of the many useless, interminable meetings I am forced to sit through I actually had to utter, totally seriously, the phrase, "I'm sorry, but I don't see our choice of software platform as a moral issue." This is the kind of crap I have to deal with during the day. And you wonder why I get crabby.
- Standing in the rear lobby of the Borgata (which is kind of like the Endor Shield Generator Back Door of the casino) at 4AM on Saturday a dealer friend of mine uttered, totally seriously, the phrase, "Frankie the Hat just cashed at the fifteen hundred stud, made thirty-six hundred, he woulda done better but that fuckface Darden outboated him on 7th Street," and not only am I vaguely horrified that I'm having this conversation at such an ungodly hour, but I briefly wonder where my life went wrong that at said hour I'm talking about SOMEONE I KNOW who is actually called "Frankie the Hat."
- I was still at the Borgata at 4AM on Saturday because, simultaneously, the bridge on the White Horse Pike was stuck in the "up" position, there was a gigantic accident at the Atlantic City toll plaza on the expressway, and there was - I am not making this up - a tattoo convention totally gridlocking traffic throughout the city, all of which combined to make it essentially impossible to leave Atlantic City before that ungodly hour. On another note, I have come to the conclusion that island living is probably not for me.
- I do not have any specific comments on the final episode of the Sopranos, but I did get a fairly complete recap of it from a friend of mine who did watch it and based on what I was told I agree with him that it does not sound exactly riveting.
- I did successfully vacation at the shore this weekend, and in between Jeeves and Wooster DVDs - FUNNIEST. SHIT. EVER. - managed to catch the back-to-back basic-cable airings of The Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal which, shall we say, lose something in their edited versions. (For the record, I think Hannibal is a fascinating movie.)
- On the way home from the shore last night, I was stopped at a light in Pemberton when a car pulled up next to mine. Well, next to and just slightly forward of. While I was fiddling the radio between the Philadelphia and North Jersey NPR stations I heard some music coming from this car that made my head jerk up very quickly. Coming from this car was a song by a ridiculously obscure Swedish band called The Sounds that, to this date, I have never met a single other person who has heard of them. They're so obscure that I'm not even mentioning them as a clue to a question tonight as that would be unfair. To hear this band coming from another car in the middle of nowhere in Central New Jersey at 10 o'clock on a Sunday night is completely unreasonable. I looked to see who the other person in New Jersey to find - gasp! - a beautiful woman. Well, I assume she was beautiful. The combination of darkness and my viewing angle meant that all I could see was that she had blond hair and wore glasses. Suffice it to say that from the shoulders-up rear-three-quarter view she was quite attractive. And she had Pennsylvania plates! She was on her way home from the shore, just like me!
I was certain at this point that I had finally found the girl of my dreams.
This feeling lasted approximately 0.85 seconds until I realized that a) I still knew absolutely nothing about this woman other than the fact that she liked a band I liked and had her car registered in the same state as me, b) the last couple women I thought were the girl of my dreams turned out to be closer to Hannibal Lecter than Helen of Troy, and c) I refused to meet the girl of my dreams in a car in New Jersey, and especially not on the Pemberton end of 38.
Still, I was vaguely wistful when she peeled out of the light at about 400 miles an hour with "Queen of Apology" blaring out of the car windows.
- During a Rite Aid trip over my shore weekend I saw an endcap display for an actual item called "ear lobe tape." Now, the fact that "ear lobe tape" exists is frightening enough. The truly scary thing is that THERE WAS ONLY ONE LEFT. In a weekend full of frightening adventures, the fact that multiple people are walking around Ocean Gate, NJ with their earlobes taped to their skulls is the most frightening thing of all.
JLK
Monday, June 11, 2007
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