December 20, 2003

I’m So Chill

Ok. Egg timer initiated. I’m giving myself five minutes and one Full Sail Wassail to finish off this nonsense.

The clientele at the local Food4Less (other names considered include FoodOrDeath and Food4Ass) are creepy. I mean, we’re talkin’ Duluth creepy, here, the whole “she was crossing the street and she turned to look at me in my car and her face lit up and she started walking towards my car and the only thing I could think to do was hit the gas pedal and paint her across the intersection.” There was a lady shopping with her dapple miniature dachshund sitting in her cart, and I almost approached the pooch to pay it a mind and strike up a conversation, until I analyzed the situation. The lady was pawing through oranges, and had been doing so for quite some time. The dog was sitting on a dirty pillow that looked like it was used specifically for attending all of the lady’s shopping cart expeditions. This screamed creepy, this screamed off-kilter, so I sidestepped the entire encounter and pressed onward into the cheese section.

Ok, I’ll give myself ten minutes. Last Sunday we had an awesome party at Nate’s house, where I stumbled about in my leather jacket, talking in varying English/Irish/Australian/Southern/Midwestern accents. When Shane finally showed up we set up a gib park in the back yard, complete with teetering forklift skids for a ramp and an old flag pole for a rail. It took a lot of practice and liquid courage (which unfortunately doesn’t coexist with the human body’s natural gyroscopes and servos for generating balance) but soon enough I was grinding the rail 50-50 on a snow skate. Then I hit it with a boardslide. Then a backside boardslide with a 180 dismount. All while holding a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I went to Ranch Records tonight and picked up used copies of Barenaked Ladies’ Maroon and the latest Saves the Day. I almost got Kingsbury Manx, Air, Primus’ Animals Should Not Act Like People, Blues Traveler, Dave Brubeck, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Wrens and Spacehog. But I didn’t. Because I’m made not of money but of flesh and blood.