Friday, May 20, 2005

The Denny's Doppelganger: Texas Chronicles Part Two

They say everyone has a doppelganger-that unrelated twin that is roaming around out there somewhere. Madge found hers, right in her own neighborhood. Drew Barrymore made a movie about her evil doppelganger in Los Angeles years ago. Apparently mine either lives or vacations in San Antonio, Texas and hangs out with his family at the Denny's off the freeway. Which would make sense, since that is exactly what I was doing in San Antonio, vacationing and hanging out with my family at the Denny's off the freeway. It was definitely a low point of the vacation, but we were hungry and apparently you can't get huevos rancheros just any time of the day in San Antonio. So we ended up at the perpetual breakfast palace that is Denny's.

Toad spotted him. Sitting across the dining room with his family, looking just like me, eating just like me (I think he may have ordered the Moons Over My Hammy just like me) and gesturing, sitting, and talking just like me. It was uncanny. It really was. Toad was so overwhelmed and creeped out she threatened to go talk to him just to calm her nerves. She settled on discreetly taking his picture instead. (Which made me very nervous wondering if all doppelgangers were evil like Drew Barrymore's and would wreak havoc on my life if our eyes met due to my sister drawing attention to us with her digital flash going off in a Denny's in the middle of the day.)

I tried to shake it off, telling her that it was no big deal, that sure, he looks similar to me, but it wasn't that strange. When in actuality he was a carbon copy. He dressed the same, used his hands the same way I do when talking, held his fork the same way, drank his coffee in exactly the same way I do, tipping his cup at the same angle. It was unnerving. I didn't like it. But then I figured, if this is my doppelganger, and if doppelgangers are, like Drew Barrymore's doppelganger, the evil counterpart, then I was probably safe. If one of us is the evil one, I'm nearly positive that I'm the alter-ego--I can't possibly be the nice one of the two and if I am, then that guy at Denny's is a complete fucking asshole.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

The Weekend Soaked in Alcohol

Alas, the weekend is over, again. Seems like I wait all week long for the weekend to get here, and then I waste it away only to find Sunday night come all too soon and start yet another week of waiting for another weekend to waste. Well, this weekend was different. I didn't waste a second of it. Here's a recap:

7:00 pm - Drinks with friends at the Parish. Five beers and several hilarious stories later we managed to scare off our original server and go through a couple more, piss off the couple sitting at the table next to us and successfully avoid a run in with any authorities, and all before ten o'clock.

10:30 pm - On my bike ride home I was magnetically pulled off of Mass Ave and my pedals stopped working all together right in front of Bukowski's Tavern. It was the oddest thing. So I decided to pontificate over my dilemma with a few mugs of beer while watching the Red Sox game (which we lost miserably.)

1:30 am - Received text message for sex from "friend".

2:00 am - My drunk ass arrived home.

2:01 am - Had sex.

9:30 am - More sex.

10:30 am - Kicked "friend" out of apartment.

11:00 am - Watched Best Week Ever on VH1 and nursed my hangover with plenty of coffee.

11:30 am - 30 mile bike ride to Newton.

7:00 pm - Birthday Party for Madge which consisted of tea sandwiches, cheese, and plenty of mixed drinks including an espresso martini, and my favorite, The Painkiller - a wonderful mix of rum, pineapple and orange juices, coconut, and the magic ingredient...freshly grated nutmeg. I had many, on top of the martini and a few beers.

2:00 am - Fell asleep on my couch watching reruns of Seinfeld relaxed from a mixture of booze, weed and some prescriptions drugs acquired sometime during the evening.

10:30 am - Drank multiple cups of coffee. No hangover this morning (thank you Percoset!)

12:00 pm - Met Mrrrr for a bike ride, errand run (including a stop at the Frosty Man), to help a friend move, etc.

4:00 pm - BBQ at Mrrrr's (which was really just an excuse to drink Mojitos and beer on a cold rainy Sunday afternoon before a 7:00 meeting.

7:00 pm - Meeting (see above).

10:00 pm - Blogging at home in front of the TV with, of course, a beer.

Yes, it's been a full weekend, mostly full of alcohol, but I also managed to break 100 miles on my bike this week due to my 40+ mile weekend, I got laid twice, helped a friend move and attended a bike advocacy meeting. I'm exhausted. I think I'll curl up with an episode of Seinfeld, another beer and some prescription drugs and start waiting for the next weekend.

Saturday, May 07, 2005

The New Family Bonding: Texas Chronicles Part One

I come from a Mormon family. I know, it's strange--even I'm shocked by it from time to time, and I grew up that way. Well, needless to say (if you have read other entries in this blog) but I have definitely "grown apart" from the church. But other members of my family still identify as Mormon, loosely.

The Mormons have this thing called Family Home Evening. It's basically three more hours of church that is supposed to take place every Monday night in your own home. Doctrine has it that families gather in the "family room" (every Mormon household has one-it's basically the same room that normal people call the living room). There is a lesson with scripture reading, morality stories, questions, discussions and other tools to teach and preach the fucked up values of the Church. Well, my family was never very good at this. We rarely spent Monday nights together. In fact our version of Family Home Evening consisted of whoever was home on Thursday night invading my parents bedroom and watching Knots Landing with the parents. Hardly a family values promoting television program, but hell we were spending time together, and wasn't that the point of the whole fucking Family Home Evening program anyways?

I recently travelled to Texas to be the best man in my brother's wedding...again. Yes, this was his second. My whole family was together for the first time in a few years. My two older sisters and their families, my brother--the groom, myself and my little sister (and her new boyfriend named Fish. Yep. Fish.) We traveled to San Antonio to spend an evening in a hotel along the Riverwalk. Now, this is a place that could be really fun if you weren't spending it with your Mormon family. It's basically a bunch of bars strung along a small river running through the middle of San Antonio. You go there to drink, not to pray.

I immediately, after a harrowing day at Sea World-San Antonio, picked out a bar where I would be spending the rest of the evening once the family retired early. Well, my brother expressed some interest in staying out as well (maybe to reinact the drunken fiasco at Disneyworld a few years back where the two of us snuck off to Pleasure Island resulting in my brother getting so loaded he called our aunt by the wrong slurred name). Before I knew it the whole family was ready to go out for some "family bonding". The older sisters left the kids at the hotel with the husbands (nicely done) and we headed for the Irish Pub along the river.

It was impressive. We all got a bit hammered (except for my sister, Toad) which is quite impressive for my family. Like most families, we are pretty dysfunctional when it comes to spending time together, loosening up, and communicating. I have to say, the alcohol really brought us together. We found a new way of bonding that doesn't include scriptures, doctrine, or Michelle Lee struggling to keep her marriage together while gossiping with next door neighbor Joan Van Ark as Nicollette Sheridan takes her clothes off for William Devane and some crazy chick named Jill stuffs herself in a trunk to frame someone for murder.

Its strange how families change over time. How relationships with siblings and parents evolve and morph. I spoke with Toad last night and she can't wait for our next family bonding night. We don't get to have them very often, but it seems that we have now found our new version of Family Home Evening. Take that, Mormons.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

The IQ Test

So I took some IQ test online today. I'd never taken one to my knowledge and even if I did, I clearly forgot about it so it doesn't count and it really just suggests that I don't want to know what my IQ is anyways, obviously it's pretty low. But I took it anyways--probably just to torture myself. Well, I scored 131. Which meant nothing to me. So I emailed Roomie (see caricature here) to ask him if he knew what a score of 120 on an IQ test meant--see, even though I actually scored higher than I admitted to Roomie, I didn't have any knowledge of the scoring for the IQ test; is 131 low? is it high? am I retarded or not? I didn't know; so I chose the safe route of telling him a lower score in case I wanted to change it later. It's fucked up logic but it made sense to me at the time. Then I got home and got to thinking about it. Curiosity got the better of me so I googled it. The findings are astonishing. I'm a fucking genius!

Descriptive Classifications of Intelligence Quotients

IQ...............Description...............%of Population

130+............Very superior..................2.2%
110-119.........High average..................16.1%
80-89............Low average..................16.1%
Below 70.......Extremely low..................2.2%

I must have cheated.

Monday, May 02, 2005

The Day Everything Fell Apart

While biking into work today it became clear that today would be one of those days where everything would just fall apart. It all started at about 6:30 this morning, when I woke up without the assistance of my cell phone alarm. Although I would rather wake up this way--to just the sounds of the morning outside my window and not the droning and annoying sound of my cell phone beeping and telling my lazy ass to get out of bed--this is usually a sign that something will go terribly wrong with my day.

But I got up despite the bad sign, and decided to tinker with my bike a bit before showering and heading into work. (Why I shower before riding my bike into the office I'll never know.) See, Mrrr had given me an odometer for my bike which tells me really great stats as to how fast I'm going, how long I've been riding, how many miles I've gone and so on. But for the past few days it hasn't really been I decided to fix it at a quarter to 7 this morning. Well, it was working like a charm before leaving the house, but as I was coasting down my steep hill I noticed that I was actually cruising at a top speed of zero mph. Something was amiss. Instead of stopping to try to fix it, I pedalled on.

Along the way, not really sure how many minutes into the ride, how many miles I had gone, or how fast I was biking, I entered an intersection along the bikepath with a slow but determined pedestrian and a slew of cars, stopped at the light. As I cruised on through (for some reason I always stand on my pedals when I am going through an intersection, weaving through hairy traffic, or coming up on a group of dog owners or children--it makes me feel more in control and stable I guess) I heard the distinctive sound of shit falling off my bike. Now this has happened to me before--my hand pump fell off my frame in the middle of a busy intersection and was immediately crushed by car after car. I of course, pedalled on and wrote the pump off as a loss. But this time it was my rear light and reflector that had come off, spilled into the intersection and sat there...waiting for the light to turn and my reflector to become part of the pavement. But the determined pedestrian, who was behind me at this point, picked up the plastic piece, one battery was still rolling through the intersection in the opposite direction, and handed it to me after I stopped saying "Well, this piece isn't broken". I thanked her, begrudgingly, and walked into the intersection to rescue my wandering battery. After cramming all the parts and pieces into my bag I continued on my way. 'Just a short delay in my otherwise pleasant ride into work on this sunny and crisp spring morning,' I thought to myself. No big deal, at least I got the annoying part of my day over with early.

I wore this pair of pants today that I wear pretty often. They are failry new, but a couple of months ago the left side pocket came unraveled and my keys and loose change fell out. So, after a couple of intensive training sessions I managed to learn to not put things in there, but to make extra use of my right side pocket. This system was working just fine for me. I was so well trained I even started using only the right side pocket in other pairs of pants. This afternoon, I stood up from my desk and immediately felt my britches get lighter as my quarters, dimes, nickels, pennies and keys came tumbling out of my one good pocket, scattered among the floor and one lonely penny fell right into my shoe. It's just a good thing that they are cargo pants, so I have plenty of pocket options left. Apparently my bike was not the only thing destined to fall apart today.

Upon reflection of these events, I worry that this day may serve as some great metaphor for the remaining years of my life. I'm 28 now, and already my body is starting to creak and groan. My flat feet are finally causing me pain and agony. I can no longer drink excessively without feeling it the next day or watching it collect around my waist. My skin is deteriorating before my very eyes, and my neck and shoulders are starting to ache at the end of a long day spent pounding away on the keyboard. I should be paying attention to the small hints like a loose rear reflector. And when one pocket unravels, I should recognize that it's just a matter of time before the other one gives out.

Sunday, May 01, 2005

The Caricature of Roomie

I haven't been around on the weekends much. Travelling for work or vacation has taken hold over the majority of weekends for the past month or so. The few weekends I have been home have been--much like this weekend--rainy, cold and miserable. On the bright side, this eliminates any need for me to muster up the energy to do anything constructive or go anywhere that requires planning, taking public transportation, or walking too far. On the cloudier side, I've been sitting on my couch drinking coffee and beer and eating too much pizza all springtime.

Today is no exception, but instead of just wallowing in my boredom alone, I thought I'd share with you the events of the day. I woke up, did the dishes and made coffee. Roomie--who has recently taken up smoking after years of ridiculing me for my occassional puff--bought some Drum and has been rolling cigarettes for our occasional smoke breaks strung throughout the day. While drinking coffee and watching sports news show after sports news show in anticipation of today's RedSox game, I (with the help of a clever little website ( created a hilarious caricature of Roomie.

I debated on whether or not I should post this mocking yet endearing mental picture of Roomie to my blog, for fear that Roomie may be offended or retaliate fiercly, declaring a roommate blogwar. But then I realized that I have blogged about Roomie often, and my audience has no visual representation to act as a point of reference for this interesting character that has invaded my life and caused nothing but misery and pain since. So, in order to familiarize my audience with my characters and stories, and help Roomie's online personality grow and materialize (and also cause I don't really give two shits if Roomie is upset or offended) I give you...

The Green Monster

Well, it happened. April 19th, 2005. Red Sox vs the Blue Jays. We lost, but it didn't affect my enjoyment of the game. Well, it didn't affect it too much. Of course it would have been better if we would have won, but the pros on this one far outweigh the cons. Arroyo was on the mound, Ramirez hit a home run right over our heads and onto the Mass Pike, Johnny Damon hadn't shaved yet, the game was neck and neck up until the final inning, and I was sitting (well standing most of the time) on top of the infamous Green Monster with Roommate, enjoying some overpriced low-quality Budweiser and watching the greatest game around. As you can see, the view from up there is just incredible.

On the downside: we lost, everything for sale on the Monster is twice as much as it is anywhere else in the Park (I guess it's because everything is "Monster Size", and for some reason the fans on the Green Monster are the most unenergetic fans at Fenway Park. Perhaps the rich feel it is beneath them to chant "Let's Go Red Sox!" while clapping their hands and acting like they actually care about the game and the players. Or maybe they were just really tired from walking up all those stairs. Either way, I'm looking forward to my next game at Fenway Park, in the cheap seats with loud obnoxious fans and regular sized and priced food and beer. It's where I belong.