There's a "fiesta" house next door to where I'm living. It's a spot you can rent and throw parties. Friday there was a party that started at 3 pm and ended at 2 am. It usually consists of HORRIBLE Karaoke singing (mostly Spanish tunes, and for some reason, always "Achy Breaky Heart"). It's literally the next building over, and SOOOOOOOO LOUD. But today was different. Today, the party started at noon. Things to keep in mind: I got very drunk last night... again. And I was incredibly hung over this morning. So when noon rolled around, and all of a sudden I heard a brass section start "warming up" I realized how much my neighbors all these years must have hated me. For those of you who don't know what Banda music is...
That should give you an idea... you have to get through the cheesy intro. In any event, there's this incredibly large band with dancers and singers, out of tune clarinets, tubas, trOmbones (not tromBONES), trumpets, drums and other assorted things that make me want to gouge my ears out with my anus. I mean, one tune might be ok to listen to... but it's currently 10 pm. And they are going STRONG. Yeah. 10 straight hours. And not to mention the fact that it's been REALLY hot here today, but I couldn't like open a window because the stench of Banda would overflow the apartment and possibly kill me.
Banda music is very popular amoung the "Narco" crowd. These are the drug traffickers who are so prevalent in Culiacan. I've heard stories from trumpet players about being hired for a Narco party and playing for 6 hours, starting at 10pm, and the Narcos saying, "No, you have to keep playing". So they play until the wee wee hours of the morn. Yeah. And nobody can really tell them to shut up, seeing as how they have more weapons than the Army. Yeah. It's bad. And so right now I'd really like to somehow envelop my head within my own rectum and like, turn inside out or something. Anything really that would possibly make this STOP.... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
In other news: I hate Banda music. And Raplh Nader has decided to try to screw up another election. I think someone should tell him that they country kinda still harbors some ill will for the whole 2000 election thing... Not that he probably doesn't have some good ideas. But he also, ya know, like takes votes away from people who might want votes. Like Democrats.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Smear ya Later
What's with all the Obama Smears lately? Have the corporate media machine, and the Clinton/McCain machines really been that scared by the senator? I mean, I'll admit, I wasn't 100% sold on the guy a few weeks back. But I've been looking at what he stands for (the "issues" on his website)... I AM disappointed that both he and Hill didn't vote on the FISA bill, and McCain did (luckily, coming out in favor of TELCOM immunity... asshole). But I saw on Friday how CNN has begun referring to Obama supporters as "cult-like and "creepy" (sorry, couldn't find the link again). Then today there's this blowing up all over the news. The particular article is from the Huffington Post. You remember Ariana Huffington, don't you? That super annoying conservative chick who decided that she was getting no love from neo-cons, so she opted to become a democrat, and therefore is now liberal? Yeah. And she's rich, so she started a website/blog and has lots of contributors and fellow smear-ers? Yeah. Or this article from the Washington Post (slogan: "We're better than the Washington Times!") which is entitled "Obama and Clinton: Copycats?" which never really attacks Clinton, because "she's not running on the strength of her rhetoric". Are you fucking KIDDING ME? You're pissed at Obama because he's a good speaker? Because his words inspire us? Because his message of hope and reconciliation scare you? What exactly is the problem, I wonder? I mean, I know he's a black man in America, so there's about 5 million people who won't vote for him specifically because of that... but those are the same racist assholes who never vote Democratic anyways. It's funny to me how little the Republicans care about the poor, and yet the impoverished South ALWAYS votes Republican. I'm moving to Mexico. Oh wait.
But here's the thing... why the Smear? Why? I don't feel like I'm in a cult. I feel like I might give money to Obama. I might. I probably won't. But that's because I'm a Jew, and you know... the money thing. But I'm kinda feeling like Clinton has turned into this evil creature I've grown to loathe over the last 8 years. I was all about her getting elected to the Senate. I was all about her Health Care Plan for America. WHEN SHE WAS THE FIRST LADY. Somewhere along the line, Hillary went from this great symbol of womanly leadership (a fiery, smart and cunning woman)—the kind of women in power that I felt good about having in life for my mother and my sister and my female friends— to more of the useless, do NOTHING, Washington regular who IS the problem. I don't know when it happened. But Hillary claims to have this huge history of "getting it done". Being "ready from day ONE". What has Hillary really done in 8 years in the Senate? Aside from authorized the war? Under her watch a bevy of unbelievable judicial candidates, justice dept heads, and other appointees were given green lights. Ummm the economy is in the shitter. Ummm we still don't have a health care plan. Ummm every child left behind... Ummm yeah she's doing great work. Walmart seems to be doing really well though. I'm pissed at you Hillary. You've alienated this young voter. And it wasn't even with your shitty voting record. Because for a while I was resigned to the fact that, "Hillary will get the nomination and I will vote for her". No, I think you lost my reluctant vote when you decided you were scared of Obama. When his message of change looked as if someone might actually vote for him.
The Founding Fathers of this country were brilliant orators. Their speeches enlivened a fledgling nation to shake off its oppressors. When you were in the 5th grade, and learning about the Civil War (War of Northern Aggression for you below the Mason Dixie Line), and your teacher read you the Gettysburg Address (1526 Gettysburg Lane, apt 4), did it not stir something inside you? A well given speech can be as moving as music. Ideas and thoughts and feelings conveyed in a way that elicits an emotional reaction and speaks directly to YOU even though the speech is given to MILLIONS. That's magical. That's something that our current "President" could never dream of.
This has turned into a really long rambling blog. One last point. Well, two. First, McCain voted in FAVOR of the US torturing. Keep in mind, he was tortured. Second, people in this country either love Hillary or HATE her. She is a very polarizing figure. And her insistence that she will use the so-called Super Delegates (Washington Insiders and people who are part of the PROBLEM) to override the will of the people to win the nomination is just one more example of why. She's power-hungry. She always has been. And the feeling I got when the Clintons left office and she made a grab for a Senate seat in a state in which she did not live (although they bought a house near my aunt and had owned it for the requisite amount of time before the election...) is the same one I have now. She's fine, and maybe she'll be better than Bush. She probably isn't completely evil. And yeah, it's great to have a strong woman leading. But I'm pretty sure for the good of the country as a whole, both internally, and on the international stage, we need someone who is free of the Shackles of Washington. Someone who's not a career politician who's not tied to all that special interest money. Someone like ME*. Or failing that, Kucinich (minus the Alien probe). Or failing that, Obama. He's not perfect, I'll admit. But I mean, at least he doesn't want to be in Iraq for another HUNDRED years. (like McCain).
*Yes I did just declare myself in the running for the Democratic Nomination. And I'd like to use this opportunity to concede the race to Mr. Obama and Ms. Clinton. They've run a good race, and our campaign just ran out of steam right at the...well, right at the beginning. But have no fear... I'll be back...
But here's the thing... why the Smear? Why? I don't feel like I'm in a cult. I feel like I might give money to Obama. I might. I probably won't. But that's because I'm a Jew, and you know... the money thing. But I'm kinda feeling like Clinton has turned into this evil creature I've grown to loathe over the last 8 years. I was all about her getting elected to the Senate. I was all about her Health Care Plan for America. WHEN SHE WAS THE FIRST LADY. Somewhere along the line, Hillary went from this great symbol of womanly leadership (a fiery, smart and cunning woman)—the kind of women in power that I felt good about having in life for my mother and my sister and my female friends— to more of the useless, do NOTHING, Washington regular who IS the problem. I don't know when it happened. But Hillary claims to have this huge history of "getting it done". Being "ready from day ONE". What has Hillary really done in 8 years in the Senate? Aside from authorized the war? Under her watch a bevy of unbelievable judicial candidates, justice dept heads, and other appointees were given green lights. Ummm the economy is in the shitter. Ummm we still don't have a health care plan. Ummm every child left behind... Ummm yeah she's doing great work. Walmart seems to be doing really well though. I'm pissed at you Hillary. You've alienated this young voter. And it wasn't even with your shitty voting record. Because for a while I was resigned to the fact that, "Hillary will get the nomination and I will vote for her". No, I think you lost my reluctant vote when you decided you were scared of Obama. When his message of change looked as if someone might actually vote for him.
The Founding Fathers of this country were brilliant orators. Their speeches enlivened a fledgling nation to shake off its oppressors. When you were in the 5th grade, and learning about the Civil War (War of Northern Aggression for you below the Mason Dixie Line), and your teacher read you the Gettysburg Address (1526 Gettysburg Lane, apt 4), did it not stir something inside you? A well given speech can be as moving as music. Ideas and thoughts and feelings conveyed in a way that elicits an emotional reaction and speaks directly to YOU even though the speech is given to MILLIONS. That's magical. That's something that our current "President" could never dream of.
This has turned into a really long rambling blog. One last point. Well, two. First, McCain voted in FAVOR of the US torturing. Keep in mind, he was tortured. Second, people in this country either love Hillary or HATE her. She is a very polarizing figure. And her insistence that she will use the so-called Super Delegates (Washington Insiders and people who are part of the PROBLEM) to override the will of the people to win the nomination is just one more example of why. She's power-hungry. She always has been. And the feeling I got when the Clintons left office and she made a grab for a Senate seat in a state in which she did not live (although they bought a house near my aunt and had owned it for the requisite amount of time before the election...) is the same one I have now. She's fine, and maybe she'll be better than Bush. She probably isn't completely evil. And yeah, it's great to have a strong woman leading. But I'm pretty sure for the good of the country as a whole, both internally, and on the international stage, we need someone who is free of the Shackles of Washington. Someone who's not a career politician who's not tied to all that special interest money. Someone like ME*. Or failing that, Kucinich (minus the Alien probe). Or failing that, Obama. He's not perfect, I'll admit. But I mean, at least he doesn't want to be in Iraq for another HUNDRED years. (like McCain).
*Yes I did just declare myself in the running for the Democratic Nomination. And I'd like to use this opportunity to concede the race to Mr. Obama and Ms. Clinton. They've run a good race, and our campaign just ran out of steam right at the...well, right at the beginning. But have no fear... I'll be back...
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Duuuuuuude... this stuff is AWESOME
This is pretty hilarious. A cop made some "special" brownies with the pot he confiscated. Then this happened:
Stay Safe, America.
Love,
Gurftastic
Stay Safe, America.
Love,
Gurftastic
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
On Love
This will NOT be a blog about how we all just got collectively sodomized by the Senate and the big Telecoms. But we did. That's why your butt hurts. And why the government is listening to you complain to your friend about it.
No this is about relationships. Or rather, the end of relationships. In honor of the Hallmark Holiday I present a few of my rather lame and obvious thoughts about things. As Jerry Seinfeld puts it, (or as they call him in Mexico, "Sign-failed") trying to be friends with someone you've been in a relationship with is hard to do. You already know each other so well, you know all the other person's tricks. It's like, "two magicians trying to entertain each other... 'here's a rabbit', 'so what... here's your card... why don't we just saw each other in half and get this over with' ".
My general feelings on relationships is that you should try to enjoy them while you're in them. A partner should enjoy his/her counterpart. Spending all your time fighting about why the potato latkes aren't ready yet, or trying to change your partner into someone they are not, and all that really defeats the purpose of the relationship. Because you're not going to be friends afterwards. Even if you say that you will, you won't. Even if you can't currently picture your life without your mate in it, if that relationship ends you won't be close. You can't be. And while that stings at first, imagine trying to keep a level of intimacy with someone whom you know you can't "be" with. Here's why it doesn't work:
Women*: (*note: I'm not a "woman" so don't you all get all uppity at me for not "understanding" women. I don't claim to even remotely begin to come close to scratching the surface of having a preconceived notion of what the hell goes on in your slightly smaller brains. All I can say is, what follows is a few observations and some of my best guesses. Feel free to leave a comment.) Women have the uncanny ability to call an ex-boyfriend just to "see how he is doing". I don't really know what that means. Probably because I'm not a woman. The "see how he is doing" call is generally early after a break up, to ensure that the ex is sufficiently heartbroken, but can also occur years later, because they were "just thinking of you". For women, these can be harmless, and genuine caring for their respective ex-partner take precedence over any awkwardness they feel. Sometimes women have ulterior motives behind their calls. But somehow, women believe that a true friendship can be attained with someone with whom they've been so utterly intimate, even if they are still sexually or otherwise attracted to that person.
Men: Men perceive any of the above as either A) a trap to get back in the relationship, or B) "that chick so wants to bone me again". I've got news, ladies... any of you out there who are actually legitimate friends with an ex of yours (you guys hang out, talk about people you're dating, whatever), your ex still thinks there is a chance that he may get to weasel his flacid meatsicle between your legs again, bend you over and give you the Dirty Sanchez the way only "he" can. Don't believe me? Get drunk with him, and get all flirty, and tell him that it's "Valentine's Day, and you were thinking about A) that day at the lake, B) the roadtrip you took together, C) the time you tried anal, and see what happens. Men ALWAYS think there's a chance. I know a guy, we'll call him Bartleby. Bartleby believes that there are no chicks in the world who don't want to sleep with him. There are just a bunch of chicks who haven't slept with him YET.
The thing is, ladies, when you go and hang out with your ex, he spends half of his brain power remembering you naked, and half of his brain power trying to determine if you've gained/lost weight, and if that has added/subtracted more badunka to/from your dunk. Having completed these calculations, said ex now spends full brain power on trying to convince you to sleep with him again. He may not be overt, but men are crafty, despite our generally low level of thought production. There are no friends. That just doesn't work.
Friends feel selflessly about each other, and have no ulterior motives other than support and compassion. Ex's have too much baggage to ever truly be supportive and friendly. Think about it. If you tell a friend about the new guy/girl in your life, your friend is happy for you and wishes you the best. If you tell your ex—even if the two of you are completely over each other in every possible way— somewhere, somehow, maybe just for a fraction of a second (maybe for longer) that person will feel something. There will be a feeling there. The two of you were close once, and you guys didn't work out, and in some way it's hurtful that you've chosen someone else to be with, rather than them. So even if it's irrational and not what they WANT, it's still there. And it happens.
The moral of the story, don't try to be friends after. Why not spend your time DURING being friends, instead? It's fucking VD (yes, Valentine's Day and venereal disease share more than just their initials...), so grab your sweetie, kiss him/her on the cock/clit/ass/mouth and fucking chill the fuck OUT would you?
Now, here's a Valentine's Day card I wouldn't feel like a total HERB giving someone. From Cracked.com...
No this is about relationships. Or rather, the end of relationships. In honor of the Hallmark Holiday I present a few of my rather lame and obvious thoughts about things. As Jerry Seinfeld puts it, (or as they call him in Mexico, "Sign-failed") trying to be friends with someone you've been in a relationship with is hard to do. You already know each other so well, you know all the other person's tricks. It's like, "two magicians trying to entertain each other... 'here's a rabbit', 'so what... here's your card... why don't we just saw each other in half and get this over with' ".
My general feelings on relationships is that you should try to enjoy them while you're in them. A partner should enjoy his/her counterpart. Spending all your time fighting about why the potato latkes aren't ready yet, or trying to change your partner into someone they are not, and all that really defeats the purpose of the relationship. Because you're not going to be friends afterwards. Even if you say that you will, you won't. Even if you can't currently picture your life without your mate in it, if that relationship ends you won't be close. You can't be. And while that stings at first, imagine trying to keep a level of intimacy with someone whom you know you can't "be" with. Here's why it doesn't work:
Women*: (*note: I'm not a "woman" so don't you all get all uppity at me for not "understanding" women. I don't claim to even remotely begin to come close to scratching the surface of having a preconceived notion of what the hell goes on in your slightly smaller brains. All I can say is, what follows is a few observations and some of my best guesses. Feel free to leave a comment.) Women have the uncanny ability to call an ex-boyfriend just to "see how he is doing". I don't really know what that means. Probably because I'm not a woman. The "see how he is doing" call is generally early after a break up, to ensure that the ex is sufficiently heartbroken, but can also occur years later, because they were "just thinking of you". For women, these can be harmless, and genuine caring for their respective ex-partner take precedence over any awkwardness they feel. Sometimes women have ulterior motives behind their calls. But somehow, women believe that a true friendship can be attained with someone with whom they've been so utterly intimate, even if they are still sexually or otherwise attracted to that person.
Men: Men perceive any of the above as either A) a trap to get back in the relationship, or B) "that chick so wants to bone me again". I've got news, ladies... any of you out there who are actually legitimate friends with an ex of yours (you guys hang out, talk about people you're dating, whatever), your ex still thinks there is a chance that he may get to weasel his flacid meatsicle between your legs again, bend you over and give you the Dirty Sanchez the way only "he" can. Don't believe me? Get drunk with him, and get all flirty, and tell him that it's "Valentine's Day, and you were thinking about A) that day at the lake, B) the roadtrip you took together, C) the time you tried anal, and see what happens. Men ALWAYS think there's a chance. I know a guy, we'll call him Bartleby. Bartleby believes that there are no chicks in the world who don't want to sleep with him. There are just a bunch of chicks who haven't slept with him YET.
The thing is, ladies, when you go and hang out with your ex, he spends half of his brain power remembering you naked, and half of his brain power trying to determine if you've gained/lost weight, and if that has added/subtracted more badunka to/from your dunk. Having completed these calculations, said ex now spends full brain power on trying to convince you to sleep with him again. He may not be overt, but men are crafty, despite our generally low level of thought production. There are no friends. That just doesn't work.
Friends feel selflessly about each other, and have no ulterior motives other than support and compassion. Ex's have too much baggage to ever truly be supportive and friendly. Think about it. If you tell a friend about the new guy/girl in your life, your friend is happy for you and wishes you the best. If you tell your ex—even if the two of you are completely over each other in every possible way— somewhere, somehow, maybe just for a fraction of a second (maybe for longer) that person will feel something. There will be a feeling there. The two of you were close once, and you guys didn't work out, and in some way it's hurtful that you've chosen someone else to be with, rather than them. So even if it's irrational and not what they WANT, it's still there. And it happens.
The moral of the story, don't try to be friends after. Why not spend your time DURING being friends, instead? It's fucking VD (yes, Valentine's Day and venereal disease share more than just their initials...), so grab your sweetie, kiss him/her on the cock/clit/ass/mouth and fucking chill the fuck OUT would you?
Now, here's a Valentine's Day card I wouldn't feel like a total HERB giving someone. From Cracked.com...
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Jew on Jew crime
Let's start this thing on a positive note: It's about FUCKING TIME the Lakers ditched Kwame "I'm 7 feet tall but play like I'm 5'4'', and I can't catch the ball, and I can't shoot the ball, and I can't make free-throws, and I sometimes play defense, but mostly I get lost in rotations, and I don't know where to be in the triangle offense" Brown. Pau Gasol is a legitimate scoring threat, a good rebounder, and isn't a little bitch. He may not be the best defender, but neither was Brown, so... Hopefully this will convince KOBE that it's time to stick around LA a little longer, not bitch and moan all summer, because, surprise surprise, the Lakers are scaring people again!
Oh yeah, and I bought "Plan 9 from Outer Space" on DVD for 32 pesos!!! That's a little less than 3 dollars. If you don't know of Plan 9, it is purportedly the WORST movie of all-time. And if you know how much I randomly love terrible movies, you know what a boon this is for me.
Ok... now for another installment of "Fucked Up Shit that Happens to Me"
Greenbaum tried to kill me two nights ago. Matt and I came home from a quintet rehearsal at about 10:30pm. Walking into the apartment, we were struck by an unusual smell. It kinda smelled like Alex had made something kinda funky for dinner while we were out. Like onions and butt-sauce. But Matt and I had been steadily drinking tequila during our quintet rehearsal (we're in Mexico, after all) so we just sorta gritted our teeth and chilled.
Around 1 I think I decide to go to sleep. I looked for the root of the smell in the kitchen, assumed it to be the trash or something (we'd thrown out some beef from the fridge that afternoon, so you never know) and decided to go to bed. I think I woke up once as the stank sorta washed over me. It kinda smelled like a dead animal, but it was coming in waves... I dunno, I went back to sleep.
At about 2 in the morning, Alex returned home from the poker game we'd had to miss on account of quintet, with his buddy Wilshere (not to be confused with Wilshire) rolled into the apartment. As I'm kinda a light sleeper, and seeing as how I sleep in the living room, I stirred as they entered to a chorus of, "Wow, it smells TERRIBLE in here" and "Do you think Gurfield like crapped his pants or something?"
"No guys, I think it's something you made for dinner, Alex" I squawked. They proceeded to go chill for a while, and I think at some point Alex locked the trash outside, assuming the smell to be the same thing I did.
Every few hours through the night, as I tossed and turned, I got a whiff of dying flesh. Gross. But when I looked under the couch (the usual spot for mice and such) I found nothing.
The next morning, I got up early to eat something before orchestra rehearsal, and went in the kitchen to make some eggs. Still smelled funky. This particular gas stove has a button to light the stove (no pilot light). As I attempted to light the right front burner, the burner on the front left LEAPED into flames. HOLY SHIT! The gas for the right front burner was on very low. There was no flame, but the gas had been on all night. Alex, in his infinite wisdom, had turned off the flame somehow during his dinner prep, but had left the gas on. Yeah. Now I'm lucky enough that I didn't blow the whole apartment up (including myself) as part of Alex's elaborate plot to eliminate the extra Jew from the apartment, but what really boggles my mind is how I didn't, like, you know, die from suffocation on account of sleeping in the room full of gas.
Now in the US, I'm quite familiar with the scent of natural gas. What I was not told was that in Mexico, the scent is quite different. It smells like onions and butts. Smelly butts. But yeah, there were a couple of windows slightly open, and somehow I managed to not feel any real ill-affects. No sickness, and no discernible brain damage... other than my usual general malaise. So I guess that's a good thing, right?
I guess maybe because he was feeling guilty for the whole, "trying to kill me" thing, Alex decided to buy a 32-inch LCD flat-screen TV for our Superbowl party. The thing is, the only real place to get anything like that around here is WalMart. Now I have plenty of moralistic reservations and objections to doing anything at WalMart, but I DO like TV, so I happily went along for the ride. Plus, with their return policy, I think the plan was to bring the TV back after the game anyways. So we show up, because a cheap TV they've previously found seems like the best bet, but when we arrive, that TV is no longer available. So we opt for a slight upgrade. Of course, finding someone who works in the electronics section proves exceedingly difficult. And then they take approximately 30 minutes to go to the stock room and come back. Only to tell us that there are none of that one left either. And it takes another 30 minutes for them to go and check with the "manager" to see if we can take the floor model. And another 30 minutes after they said we could for a 5% discount (normally a floor model discount is at least 10-15%). And after asking to speak to the manager, it takes another 30 minutes for them to return and say, ok, 10% (we never saw a "manager", by the way). Then came this:
Notice ball-on-a-stick in the background....
Yeah so "floor model" in Mexico apparently means, no box, but we will SARAN WRAP it for you. If you've never wondered just how silly the thought of Saran Wrapping a TV is, neither had I, until I saw these two "dedicated" stock workers, obviously put-off by the fact that they had to DO something that evening, diligently wrapping the LCD screen in plastic wrap for protection. The funniest thing was when we were leaving the WalMart, the security guards at the door didn't seem at all perturbed by our un-boxed TV that we were carrying out. Almost as if they see this sort of thing all the time.
So to recap, no more Kwame, didn't die, and ended up with a big screen TV for the Superbowl. Overall not a bad day and a half. Oh, and the conductor of the orchestra, who kinda reminds me of a less-competent Chris Schwabe (Lincoln Middle School Band and Orchestra, and eventually SAMOHI Orchestra Director... favorite quote: "I am hap-py, major third") has taken to giving me the big "Thumbs-Up" every time I have an entrance. Not really sure why. I'd like to give him a finger too.
Oh yeah, and I bought "Plan 9 from Outer Space" on DVD for 32 pesos!!! That's a little less than 3 dollars. If you don't know of Plan 9, it is purportedly the WORST movie of all-time. And if you know how much I randomly love terrible movies, you know what a boon this is for me.
Ok... now for another installment of "Fucked Up Shit that Happens to Me"
Greenbaum tried to kill me two nights ago. Matt and I came home from a quintet rehearsal at about 10:30pm. Walking into the apartment, we were struck by an unusual smell. It kinda smelled like Alex had made something kinda funky for dinner while we were out. Like onions and butt-sauce. But Matt and I had been steadily drinking tequila during our quintet rehearsal (we're in Mexico, after all) so we just sorta gritted our teeth and chilled.
Around 1 I think I decide to go to sleep. I looked for the root of the smell in the kitchen, assumed it to be the trash or something (we'd thrown out some beef from the fridge that afternoon, so you never know) and decided to go to bed. I think I woke up once as the stank sorta washed over me. It kinda smelled like a dead animal, but it was coming in waves... I dunno, I went back to sleep.
At about 2 in the morning, Alex returned home from the poker game we'd had to miss on account of quintet, with his buddy Wilshere (not to be confused with Wilshire) rolled into the apartment. As I'm kinda a light sleeper, and seeing as how I sleep in the living room, I stirred as they entered to a chorus of, "Wow, it smells TERRIBLE in here" and "Do you think Gurfield like crapped his pants or something?"
"No guys, I think it's something you made for dinner, Alex" I squawked. They proceeded to go chill for a while, and I think at some point Alex locked the trash outside, assuming the smell to be the same thing I did.
Every few hours through the night, as I tossed and turned, I got a whiff of dying flesh. Gross. But when I looked under the couch (the usual spot for mice and such) I found nothing.
The next morning, I got up early to eat something before orchestra rehearsal, and went in the kitchen to make some eggs. Still smelled funky. This particular gas stove has a button to light the stove (no pilot light). As I attempted to light the right front burner, the burner on the front left LEAPED into flames. HOLY SHIT! The gas for the right front burner was on very low. There was no flame, but the gas had been on all night. Alex, in his infinite wisdom, had turned off the flame somehow during his dinner prep, but had left the gas on. Yeah. Now I'm lucky enough that I didn't blow the whole apartment up (including myself) as part of Alex's elaborate plot to eliminate the extra Jew from the apartment, but what really boggles my mind is how I didn't, like, you know, die from suffocation on account of sleeping in the room full of gas.
Now in the US, I'm quite familiar with the scent of natural gas. What I was not told was that in Mexico, the scent is quite different. It smells like onions and butts. Smelly butts. But yeah, there were a couple of windows slightly open, and somehow I managed to not feel any real ill-affects. No sickness, and no discernible brain damage... other than my usual general malaise. So I guess that's a good thing, right?
I guess maybe because he was feeling guilty for the whole, "trying to kill me" thing, Alex decided to buy a 32-inch LCD flat-screen TV for our Superbowl party. The thing is, the only real place to get anything like that around here is WalMart. Now I have plenty of moralistic reservations and objections to doing anything at WalMart, but I DO like TV, so I happily went along for the ride. Plus, with their return policy, I think the plan was to bring the TV back after the game anyways. So we show up, because a cheap TV they've previously found seems like the best bet, but when we arrive, that TV is no longer available. So we opt for a slight upgrade. Of course, finding someone who works in the electronics section proves exceedingly difficult. And then they take approximately 30 minutes to go to the stock room and come back. Only to tell us that there are none of that one left either. And it takes another 30 minutes for them to go and check with the "manager" to see if we can take the floor model. And another 30 minutes after they said we could for a 5% discount (normally a floor model discount is at least 10-15%). And after asking to speak to the manager, it takes another 30 minutes for them to return and say, ok, 10% (we never saw a "manager", by the way). Then came this:
Notice ball-on-a-stick in the background....
Yeah so "floor model" in Mexico apparently means, no box, but we will SARAN WRAP it for you. If you've never wondered just how silly the thought of Saran Wrapping a TV is, neither had I, until I saw these two "dedicated" stock workers, obviously put-off by the fact that they had to DO something that evening, diligently wrapping the LCD screen in plastic wrap for protection. The funniest thing was when we were leaving the WalMart, the security guards at the door didn't seem at all perturbed by our un-boxed TV that we were carrying out. Almost as if they see this sort of thing all the time.
So to recap, no more Kwame, didn't die, and ended up with a big screen TV for the Superbowl. Overall not a bad day and a half. Oh, and the conductor of the orchestra, who kinda reminds me of a less-competent Chris Schwabe (Lincoln Middle School Band and Orchestra, and eventually SAMOHI Orchestra Director... favorite quote: "I am hap-py, major third") has taken to giving me the big "Thumbs-Up" every time I have an entrance. Not really sure why. I'd like to give him a finger too.
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