You've Got Mail Part 2

Mission successful! Crisis averted!

The only day I went in to work this week and I left at 1pm to rush home in order to get there before my parents. As I turned onto the street, I was prepared to wave myself off, abort the mission and accept the consequences, should my parents’ car be in the driveway. Fortunately, that was unneeded. I confidently crossed the threshold of my parents’ house with 3 days worth of mail in hand. No parents to be seen. I have not heard from them yet, so I can only conclude that I managed to get away by the skin of my teeth on this one.

On the bright side, I got my latest paycheck and one of the gifts my sister got for me came from I bought myself a big lunch at McDonalds to celebrate.

You've Got Mail Part 1

I went home for the first night of Hannukah Sunday evening. My parents mentioned that they were going away for a couple days and had noone to take in the mail for them. Believing this to be an attempt to guilt me into the task, I headed off any turmoil and preemptively volunteered on the condition that I get a reminder. I foolishly assumed this reminder would be in the form of a quick email, as everyone pretty much knows thats the best way to get in touch with me when I’m not traveling. Today, I received the reminder in question on my voicemail. Today also happens to be the day, they return from their trip.

Now this wouldn’t normally be a huge deal. Just another case of the occasionally loveable son goofing up again where I shrug my shoulders with a big grin on my face and say ‘How did that happen?’ That won’t happen this time, mostly because thats what happened last time. More to the point, when I volunteered for the task, my mother asked and I quote, “You’re not going to forget again, like last time, are you?”

Oh, Yes. This is going to go well. So now, I’m going to leave work early and hope to beat them home so I can bring in the mail.

Damn you, Verizon and your awful voicemail notifier!

The Haul

The holidays are coming to a close and the new year is quickly approaching.

Here’s the holiday haul:

  • Battlestar Gallactica Season 1
  • Battlestar Gallactica Season 2.0
  • Firefly: The Complete Series
  • $50 gift certificate to Barnes & Noble
  • 1 GB Flash Drive
  • 2006 Marvel Superheroes Calendar
  • Business Card Holder
  • Creative Zen Vision
  • Fullmetal Alchemist Manga Volume 4 w/ Alphonse Elric figurine
  • More to be added.

I was quite happy. I made my family sit down and watch the Battlestar Gallactica mini-series right after the ridiculously filling meal my mom made.

We had toasted ravioli for an appetizer with alfredo and red sauce for dipping. I ate too many before the meal but it was really good. Apparently they had clam dip as an appetizer to the appetizer before I got there, so when it came time for the meal, only my dad and I got seconds… and thirds. The main meal was a Chicken Buffet, which is basically just chicken and stuffing. Tasty.

For dessert my mom, set out this little dish with a flame under it. It turned out that it was a chocolate fondue for dipping. Set out next to the dish was all sorts of stuff to dip in the fondue; strawberries, banana, ‘Nilla wafers, biscuits, pretzel rods, and more. I took this as a personal challenge to envelope anything and everything I had to dip in the chocolate. I almost had a fallen soldier, but I was able to save the Nilla wafer from the dish with a weird dipping fork we were supposed to be using. Oops.

My dad maintains that we should combine the appetizers next year and make Clam Dip-oli.

…Yeah. Don’t ask me.

Happy Holidays and a safe new year!

Chop that ice!

I entered the Ace Hardware on a mission.

The mission: To find and purchase an ice chopper for the driveway.
Secondary mission: Find and purchase a shovel.

As I paced up and down the aisles, the musk of plastics, metals, and chemicals permeated the air. On the third aisle, I came across a display of driveway squeegees. I picked one up to examine it, then pulled it to my side to walk on with the intent of including it in my purchase, but I stopped. “No!”, I thought, “This is not part of the mission. Do not let temptation sway its outcome!” I turned and placed the driveway squeegee back in the display rack determined to carry out my duty.

Two more aisles in, an employee asked if I needed help with anything. I know better. This is a trick. Any type of hardware store is a man’s domain and real men don’t ask for help. I notched my belt, confirmed my manhood and walked on to the next aisle feeling proud for having passed the test.

Not long thereafter, I found I had searched half the store with no success. I moved on to the second half and continued going aisle by aisle passing by temptation whereever it lept out and leap out it did. As I passed the axes and sledgehammers, I came to the last aisle. At the very end, the very last square foot of the store I had yet to search, I could see my destiny hanging on two pegs on the wall. Nearly blinded by the holy grail of my quest, I almost missed the metal tipped shovel sitting next to the ice chopper. Real men, indeed, do not need help.

I strided confidently to the register with my two items resting over my shoulder. As I exited the building, the torrentials rains eased and soon stopped. The clouds parted and the sun shone down as I walked to my car full of pride from the success of my mission.

When I got home, I displayed my prize to Ed, who shared my appreciation for the accomplishment. Moments later, we were quickly making headway dispersing the sheet of ice covering the expanse of our driveway. We were soon joined by another roommate Greg. As we worked to make headway on the extremely thick area of ice at the foot of the driveway we all heard a crack as Greg came down hard on the ice with the ice chopper. We examined the ground, then the ice breaker. There was a crack in the wooden handle of the chopper about half way down. It came my turn once more to weild the weakened weapon against nature. After two mighty thrusts of the ice chopper, the handle split in half. Like an object out of mythology, the ice chopper helped us complete our task and self-destructed once its purpose was realized.

Behold, the Ice Chopper.
Mjolnir, the Mighty Ice Chopper of Thor

Wet Dreams

This morning on the subway, I watched a woman fall asleep in the seat across from me and proceed to spill the coffee she was holding all over herself and her bags.

She used her newspaper to cover the spill on the floor, Big Daddy style.

When Retards Cry

I was in Park Street Station on Tuesday waiting for the next Red Line train to arrive. It is very common for performers of some sort to be singing, playing music or offering up some other type of performance hoping that those waiting on the same platform will deliver them a small fee for their work.

I had the unique …experience… of listening to a retarded man (or retahdid as we say in Boston) play a flute-like instrument pausing occasionally to speak loudly some slightly incorrect lyrics from Prince‘s When Doves Cry. In fact, I’m pretty sure he only knew about 4 lines and didn’t bother faking the rest. His rendition went something similar to the following:

Maybe you’re more like yo’ daddy…
*mumble mumble*
Maybe you’re more like yo’ mommy…
*mumble mumble*
Dis is what it sound like
when dub craaah…

I had my back to him because I was afraid my laughter would burst in front of him, but everytime he finished that verse I could only picture Cartman’s face while belting out a song. (>_< ) Each time he stopped playing his flute, he would repeat those same lines. The flute sound could be compared to an old man that is missing a few teeth and ends up whistling everytime he pronounces an ‘s’ sound or perhaps a screeching monkey. No, the old man whistling is more accurate. So, imagine that sound elongated with slight interuptions of the guy breathing without taking his mouth off the flute. Somehow the erratic sound was repeated and duplicated perfectly each and everytime he finished singing. This is what is sounds like when my ears cry.