Nostalgia Bomb

          Before we left for work, Sean and I discussed our childhood experiences in the fields of computer programs and television shows at length. It appears that in the former case, we used diametrically opposite programs for the most part. My elementary and middle school years were a time of Kid Pix, Mavis Beacon, the ClueFinders series, Mahjongg (oddly designated as "TP" on our ancient IBM home computer), Math Blaster, freeware Brick Breaker clones, pretty much all freeware and shareware ever, Oregon Trail, Tetris, Zoombinis, adventures on Newgrounds, and the venerable Netscape. And how could anyone forget Space Cadet Pinball or the mesmerizing Pipes screensaver? I also vaguely recall a cool underwater adventure game that was glitched and unplayable a few levels in (but our cousins had as well, and it worked fine for them) and some kind of ultra-basic music composition software that we used in Music class, back when that was still a thing. [Edit: Looks like TP was an abbreviation of Taipei, a name Mahjongg was distributed under for some reason.]
          On the other hand, Sean and I watched an almost identical repertoire of kids' shows, since we were both ride-till-you-die Cartoon Network boys over Nickelodeon. Scooby-Doo was the first show I watched regularly, simply because it was on when I got home from grade school. The only time I followed the plot of a cartoon from week to week was a period in junior high when I would catch Code Lyoko (awesome), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Teen Titans (fantastic), though I only watched TMNT because I would have lost the television if I abandoned it in between programs. Other good stuff: ThunderCats (HOOOOOOOOOOO), Gundam Wing, Samurai Jack, Powerpuff Girls, Johnny Bravo (which sucked when we were kids but I would probably love it now), Dexter's Laboratory, Ed Edd & Eddy, Spongebob Squarepants (long ago devolved into worthlessness), ReBoot, The Thornberries, Fairly OddParents (which I despised and still do, but everyone else seemed to like, so...), and everything on Boomerang, including Tom & Jerry, Looney Tunes, and Coyote & Roadrunner. Remember Toonami Tom and his cartoon-watching spaceship? Or those weird McDonalds cartoon movies? Rose colored glasses might account for this, but nowadays, the only program I've seen with any value is the fridge-horror Adventure Time.
          Work was uncomfortable. I was fatigued to the point of utter exhaustion, maybe more tired than I've ever been. The day felt like it was going to drag on forever, and every two or three minutes I would slip into a state of nearly fully dreaming, waking with a jolt. I've had "day dreams" before, but today it was like I was somewhere else. In one of my dreams, I was talking to Biggie Smalls; later in the afternoon, I nearly fell over a couple of times while standing by the printer. The day was pretty slow, only broken up by a visit from a mildly crazy former client who reeks -- figuratively and literally -- of "cat lady" and likes to drop off papers with descriptions of exciting events around Boston. The crazy part is her habitual underlining, sectioning off and highlighting everything in each document, to the point where there's a box around every two or three words and four different highlighter colors with no rhyme or reason. To recall the adventures of Alanna and Andy: What do these people do for sixteen hours a day? I collapsed into bed after walking home and slept for a considerable period of time; following this rest, Alaric, Sean and I started a clix match with S.H.I.E.L.D., "the beast within," and HYDRA teams, respectively. We put off the conclusion of the match until tomorrow, and I went out for a few laps around the Fens before retiring.
          Quotes of the day:
"Welp, it's officially Monday." - me, after dramatically failing at wrapping a sandwich
"You're not a reeeeaaaaal '90s kid unless you suffered through Tak & the Power of Juju." - me

Oh, Kid Pix. How many hours did I while away with your clip art?

This was my jam back in the Win 98 glory days.

I have to admit I was a total busta at this one. Typing speed tests? No thanks.

Are You Wasting My Time?

          In the late morning, Sean, Katie, Iris and I walked over to the Boston Public Garden, which I only today learned is distinct from the Common. We set up a blanket and picnicked under the trees, chowing on delicious sandwiches and trying to get extremely close to squirrels. Later, we took turns reading poetry aloud from a book and handing Katie's camera around. I deflected someone who tried to proselytize us ("Are you Christian?" "No.") but was less successful with another guy who was acting confused and strung out ("Can I sit down?" "...No?"); he proceeded to sit at our blanket and we bolted about two minutes later. We then went to the Common and took a million more pictures, mainly of us doing stupid things and embarrassing ourselves in front of adults. After we walked home, I moved the new couch into the living room -- there's just no convenient way to position it in my room -- and got some more cleaning and decorating done.
          Quote of the day:
"You're a credit to society, Andy." - Sean

Word Becomes Flesh

          Iris and I visited the Berklee Beantown Jazz Festival on Columbus for a little while, which was pretty cool. We didn't stay long; it was very crowded on the street, and I feel like jazz is not necessarily music that's better live. After kicking it back with TF2 for a while, Iris and I went to a spoken word/dance performance called Word Becomes Flesh. Five or six guys kept up a strenuous routine of dancing, movement, and poetry for over an hour, much of it concerning life as a black male, summer love, parenthood, ignorance, and many other deep, visceral musings. Three old people immediately in front of us were doing the standard "we're old so we don't have to be polite" thing and talking across each other, which never fails to enrage. After the show, I watched videos with Sean, Katie, Alaric and Iris and loafed around.
          At last, Alaric and I decided to take a walk and test out the cigar I found, and he brought one of his own Cubans for good measure. We started off my moving on to Tremont to check out the latest police action outside the bar down the street (there is seriously always something going on there) and spectated briefly, though without any hint at the goings-on. Some crazy guy walking behind us started chastising us for being "twelve" and "smoking that shit"; it was amusing at first, but he didn't let up and it got uncomfortable. After a protracted silence on our part, he repeated, "Don't get mad at me." and told us to shake his hand, a request we tacitly declined. Next, we bumped into the Sweet Idea cookie delivery guy and paid him $5 for 5 chocolate chip cookies; my verdict: 5 for $2 would have been more appropriate, but I'm glad I tried them. Somewhere in South Boston, an extremely sketchy woman standing in the shadows ordered us in slurred tones, "Gimme a hit of that." We refused this request as well and walked into a more secluded area, where we popped a squat and discussed various topics. Another gentleman walked by us, but this one was more friendly, only wishing us "happy birthday" in passing. "You too, man." We got home in time to watch the second half of Captain America, which Iris loved. She and I re-finished Avengers afterward and debated the merits of a Black Canary Halloween costume.

Lawyered

Got 'em

          It was a beautiful, overcast rain-in-the-air type of morning, and I got to work in a pleasant mood. Hunting for the proper office, I ran up and down the courthouse stairs and finally discovered it on the top floor, where I was served by a gentlemanly, mustachioed whitehair. On the way back to the office, I stopped for a moment by City Hall to listen to an old man play the Caisson Song on one of the public pianos.When I got back, Jeremy informed me that we had been successful in filing an order in the property closing case I recently mentioned. A bare-bones outline: our client filed for an injunction to stop the sale of the family home in order to purchase it himself, things got messy. The closing didn't go down quite as planned, the seller was threatening to sell to a cash buyer if we didn't close today, and all of the people involved in the case (again, a lot) were trying to call my boss, who had dropped off the radar. While everyone was blustering, he vanished off to court and got another injunction to preempt the sale. The remainder of my shift was spent checking off tasks that I had either completed improperly or not yet attended to. I think I have some strange disorder where if I psych myself up for work, I get absolutely nothing done and disappoint myself. Conversely, days that start really poorly always seem to end up being the most productive, excluding post-all nighter zombie shifts. Unrelated, we mysteriously just received a letter dated and postmarked September 13, which got me thinking about what it would be like to have an enemy in the post office.
          In the evening, Iris and I went to Fire + Ice. I was immediately unimpressed with the lighting and decor, which reek of a cheap nightclub. Green lightbulbs in a restaurant? No thank you. I was impressed with the cooking setup (a large, round grilling table in the middle of the room, where the chefs work their magic) and with the huge amount of food available to put in the stir fry.  I completely overdid it the first time around. Against Iris's recommendations, my bowl was a devil's brew of egg noodles, mushrooms, sweet potatoes, pineapples, roasted garlic, bacon, shaved sirloin, lime chicken, water chestnuts, bamboo shoots, tomatoes, and scallions with sweet peach bourbon sauce. Can you spot the mistake? If you thought, "lime chicken," you would be correct. Everything else went pretty well together, shockingly enough, but the lime and seasoning on the chicken stuck out like a sore thumb. My next try was much more restrained, but my choices were unfortunately not of the best quality: some very iffy calamari and mussels, penne, and an unremarkable pesto cream sauce made for a forgettable meal. When we got home, we met with Alaric, Haley and Peter and watched the "All of the Lights" music video in the dark, followed by The Avengers, which Iris has somehow not seen yet. She appeared to like it, but passed out near the end so we'll have to finish it later.
          Quotes of the day:
"Yay!!! I got bills!" - Lisa
"Y'all about to be famous in Puerto Ricooooooo!" - a chef at Fire + Ice

Certified mail: not good for your wallet.

Barack "Drone Daddy" Obama

          My day was a series of mildly interesting events. One of Mark's clients, a cantankerous Italian guy who never stops to breathe, provided much entertainment after stopping in to discuss his son's MVA (motor vehicle accident) case. I had an incredible chicken pesto sandwich on white focaccia bread from Viga. Scanning old files, I found a note from Jeremy referring to an opposing lawyer as a "pompous, self-righteous m.f." I also discovered a contact person with an 8-letter surname of which 2 letters are vowels (Szymczak -- damn it feels good to be Polish.) Since we're in the middle of a contentious closing on a property, I stayed until 4 to ensure that calls weren't missed; we're simultaneously dealing with three lawyers, a broker, a banker, and our client in this case. I was quite productive today, and felt pretty good at closing time. On the way home, I watched a fifties-ish couple holding hands and kissing, which was adorable. At home, our shower mat left a sliver of glass (?) in my foot, which was decidedly not adorable and which I was mercifully able to remove. I spent some time hanging out with Sean, Alaric and Katie and playing vidojames later on.
          Quotes of the day:
"I'm relentless. I'm like a pitbull, I keep comin' after you. I'll never stop." - Mr. R
"What, ya think I'm stupid?" - Mr. R
"You're a wimpy boy! Eat more!" - Iris
"Are the sides of your ass sore?" - Alaric
...
Attorney: "I'm the closing attorney for a property one of [Jeremy's] clients is buying."
Me: "Right, you're working on the [redacted] closing."
Attorney: "Yeah, which is turning into a complete clusterfuck."

Heil Reebok

          Something I hate about work is when people will call and then refuse to leave a message, as if I'm not to be trusted. I should be considered as an extension of the attorney, more or less. I also had to split up some large PDFs into about 30 little 10 MB chunks because the email I'm supposed to send them to can only handle that large of a file at a time; each has to be attached and emailed separately. Fun fun fun. It was also amusing listening to Mark and Lori brainstorming over how to defend a client accused of pushing heroin. "Was it reeeeeaaally heroin?"
          In the evening, I went to SquashBusters for the first time with Alaric. First off, I knew that the facility was on Columbus but never really though about where, and it blew my mind realizing that it's hidden directly across the street from our apartment. This is freshman year "Rebecca's exists"-level system shock. I digress. We arrived at the squash desk, where we were informed that "she has to check your shoes." A middle-aged lady came out from an office where she was watching television and gave Alaric's skate shoes a cursory glance. She then looked at my running shoes, which one of two pairs of non-dress shoes I own, and asked, "Are those the shoes you're planning on wearing?" I replied with a tentative yes, and in a hyper-patronizing tone with upward inflection, she shot back, "No..." I assumed that by "check your shoes," the guy at the desk meant trading them in for proper ones, as in a bowling alley, so I went to take one off and the woman said, "You can't play barefoot either." Apparently you need "white gumsoles" because the floors are fancy and treated and can't be scuffed, so after some grumbling we returned. This time, I wore my other shoes, which are completely falling apart and are not athletic in the slightest. After some skeptical looks, the shoe fascist commented that they were black carbon rubber and that she'd have to "test them," at which point she took them away and (presumably) rubbed them on the floor for five minutes. She returned, handed them back, said that she guessed they would work, and returned to the television. For whatever reason, some people just do not have the capacity to be polite.
          As it turns out, I'm horrid at squash. I was expecting something comparable to paddleball, that most exalted of high school P.E. activities, but was mistaken. The ball has no bounce at all, and you have to completely whip it every time to even keep the game going. It's a good thing they gave us the court all the way on the end because we were severely embarrassing ourselves, and the squash team or club (I'm not sure which) was practicing there as well. By the end, we were worn out, mildly frustrated by how difficult the game is, and I had a long floor burn on my knee from a diving save. Also, the joke was on the shoe dictator. First off, the floor was already scuffed to hell, which just goes to show that sometimes, things aren't as important as they seem. And second, my shoes did not leave marks on the court, but they did continue to disintegrate and leave tiny pieces of black rubber all over the place. The shoe person can consider it a parting gift from a disgruntled customer. Also, what on earth is a gumsole?
          Quote of the day:
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you. There's a lot of screaming in the background." - Junie

Motion To Move Up the Plaintiff's Motion To Move To MO and Motion To Remain Motionless

          Today was the first day, and hopefully the last, that I was considerably late. I woke up to Jeremy calling me to ask where I was, spoke to him for a moment, got up, and freaked out. I was profusely apologetic when I arrived in the office, probably 45 minutes late, but he was pretty nonchalant about it. I fielded multiple telephone calls from one of those scammers in India who told me that he was from Microsoft, that we had a virus and that he would help me fix it. All I needed to do was allow remote access to the computer -- seems legit. Also, during my adventures through our files, I found a motion so titled:

PERSONAL REPRESENTATIVE'S MOTION TO STRIKE [REDACTED]'S RESPONSE TO THE DEFENDANT [REDACTED 2]'S OPPOSITION TO THE PLAINTIFF [REDACTED]'S MOTION

          Work was followed by lots of Fallout 3, which is an incredible game as always. Mutants with machine guns, social experimentation, exploding heads, giant bugs, mini nukes, an anti-Communist battle robot, performance-enhancing drugs, ethical decisions, and music from the 1950s -- that's pretty much all you need to be happy.

Sitting Back

          My shuffle was on point today; Immortal Technique's "Dance With the Devil" was of an almost perfect length for the Orange Line ride to State, and I walked over to the office to "Mark of the Beast". Nothing interesting happened at work, but the evening was something of a mixed bag. First, I grew suspicious of the strange odor in the dishwasher, which turned out to be a plastic tupperware lid melted to a pipe. I could only remove parts of it, which means the machine is out of commission for now. I felt better after Comcast finally delivered our router -- yay for connectivity! This feeling was slightly soured by the discovery that two recently opened gallons of milk had gone bad; unfortunately, I was the one to figure this out firsthand. I expect that the fridge was left open one day; its sealing mechanism is not terrific. Then, Alaric and I went out to Columbus to pick up an abandoned couch (among some other belongings, so someone is moving, not just tossing it because it's skeevy) and were not disappointed. It only has a single hole under the seat and a slightly wonky spring in one of the cushions; struggle as we might, Alaric and I could not find anything fundamentally wrong with it, which is nerve wracking. Other objects I seized from the pile the couch was next to: a snowboarding magazine and a framed orthopedic x-ray. The latter, upon removal from its frame, was found to be concealing a "revised map of New England" rendered in puzzle piece-like cardboard cutouts and lacking Massachusetts. Tonight has been a string of mysteries.
          Quotes of the day:
"We can sit back, but I hate sitting back. I'm not a pacifist." - Jeremy
"I captured you with my Asian wiles." - Iris

Cookie Soup

          We had a pep band rehearsal in the dance studio today, which is not an ideal music room at all. This was followed by lunch in IV with various band freshmen and seasoned veterans, and I stole twenty-five cookies along the way. Afterward, I took a nap at Iris's apartment and traveled to Snell to use the internet, hopefully for the last time. I spent the rest of my night decorating my closet doors and cutting things up.
          Quote of the day:
"You're a dick! Soup on you!" - Katie

Red Mist Lives

          Another day, another volleyball game, this time against Hahvahd. After a sloppy loss in the first set, the girls rebounded and took three in a row for the victory. About everyone in or around the trumpet section has chosen a "volleyball girlfriend" to root for; mine is the colossally tall, white headband-wearing #9. Post-game, a few of us hung out at the spot and hit up Wolly World before opening the festivities. On the way over, I found a Philadelphia Blunt cigar, still in its sealed wrapper -- a solid find. At Wollaston's, some dude buying a case of Evian water cut Peter in line; it was a small act that took only seconds, but it seemed to scream "entitled rich kid" for the longest time. At home, Katie, Jared, Peter and I played a rousing game of Kings, while Sean and Iris spectated. Very early in the game, Peter was put at a tremendous disadvantage via the arrangement of the four dates. Katie dated Jared, Jared dated me, I dated Peter, and Jared used his final date on Peter as well. This means that under normal circumstances, there was no eventuality in which he did not drink. Compounding this was the fact that he was the Question Master three out of four times, so accidentally answering his questions always backfired. I received all four kings during the game, and my final rule, deployed with three cards left to draw, multiplied required drinks by three. This led to a grand finale of a dozen drinks for Peter and much mirth for everyone else. We then smoked and put on Kick-Ass, which I conclude is 100% better the second time around. It's a movie wherein everything seems to come out of left field, and knowing what you're in for ahead of time makes it easier to appreciate the film and less important trying to stay on your toes.
          Quotes of the day:
"That would suck mega dick." - Jared
"I hate being the bottom of the food chain!" - Peter
"I have to drink twelve times?!" - Peter
 

Maybe my favorite movie scene of the week.

Or maybe this one.

Then again...

In For the Kill

          I started work with an nasty flub, accidentally deleting an answering machine message before I wrote down the number of the caller. I called all over the place in a panic and ended up finding the person who had contacted me with some sleuthing and blind luck. I consoled the client, an elderly lady who's getting slammed with healthcare bills, got a bunch of work done on the case, and felt quite useful. This woman sounds like she is at the end of her rope, and it's a little scary talking to someone at that point in their life. Bank of America called to inform me that thy found my check and had deposited it for me, and were once again very kind and professional. I then proceeded to ruin my mood by making the same mistake as always and reading comments (stupid! stupid! stupid!) on internet news. This particular article was a masturbatory Iran v. MURCA blurb about a U.S. pilot threatening two Iranian pilots in inferior jets after they flew "too close" to a U.S. drone. (Link here.) I couldn't find the solitary comment that I appreciated, a reaction to a comment to the effect of "they should have just blown them out of the sky", but I will paraphrase: "A death sentence for flying within 16 miles of an unmanned drone in international airspace?" And the pilot in question is lionized for being an asshole about it. No diplomacy, no plain old "give our drone some space," just "you should really go home." I admit this is conjecture, but this triumphant tone of this article and the discussion surrounding it are just further evidence that "exceptionalism with a side of superiority complex" is the true American mindset. Moving on... Connie, a former clerk in Mark's office, visited and had a long, involved conversation with Jeremy about disability, Social Security, and the inflation of college costs. Jeremy mentioned being contacted by Colgate's alumni donation solicitors and asking them why costs have increased at three times the rate of inflation. "Can you please get back to me on why that is? And then I'll cut you a check." I kept wanting to jump into said discussion, but a) I was not invited, and b) I probably would have been in way over my head.
          In the evening, the band played at a volleyball game versus the vile Boston College, in which we smashed them three sets to one. Some kind of rap battle was going on outside Curry, but I did not linger to investigate. The next step was a gathering of the tribe at the spot, including Iris, Peter, Clay, Jared, Alaric, Haley, Becky, Jasmin, and Julia (the wild card for the night.) Highlights: Becky doing some weird, strangled cough; narrowly missing corrupting Jasmin because of the same; huge mood swings when the music changed; Julia turning out to be a fellow space cadet; Julia having a completely silent, expressionless panic attack and not informing us of this until an hour later. Some folks trickled out for a BU party (...) and the rest of us hit the bricks for Tasty Burger. We numbered six in all -- Alaric, Haley, Jared, Peter, Iris, and me -- and despite an extremely busy night, we managed to snag one of those semi-secluded tables in the alcove by the pool table. This turned out perfectly, and there was much rejoicing. The best part of the outing was Jared's decision to take a chance on the Butta Burger. This burger is cooked with what can only be described as a slab of butter (it doesn't all melt) and a pile of caramelized onions on top, and he wisely opted for cheese as well. We each took a bite out of curiosity, and it was pretty tasty; by the time he finished the burger, Jared was nearly unable to move. Iris became similar bloated on just a milkshake, which was mystifying. After watching Jared suffer for a while, we established that it will be tradition for someone to order the Butta Burger each time we go there, until all of us have been initiated.
          Quotes of the day:
"They need a team to do the work he does alone!" - a client, on Jeremy
"She sends these yelling emails... I feel like we're in Harry Potter, you know, where they send those Screamers?" [sic] - Lori
"She's my girlfriend. I think she was my girlfriend last year." - Clay
"This is one of those times I wish I was black." - Clay
"It looks like a cross between a keyboard and a breathalyzer." - Peter
"Please come here, little ducklings!" - Iris
"Jared's a rock and a rock don't move." - me
"I'm going straight for the kill." - Jared
...
Me: "We have an Asian, my dreams are made."
Clay: "Is she your volleyball girlfriend?"
Me: "Nah, white headband."

Angst For Two

          After sleeping over at Iris's, I found a poster for a show I missed at afterHOURS --Youth Lagoon and Pure X. I'm a little bummed about it, but I was at rehearsal anyway, so whatever. afterHOURS is pretty bad at publicizing their events, though. Work was nondescript; I figured out a workaround for some of my scanning problems and got to hear an older client call a computer "the email machine." After my shift, I took an awkward trip to Bank of America and asked for help in extricating my check from behind the baseboard. An unexpectedly kind manager and another employee did their best to help me, but our efforts were ultimately unsuccessful. They promised to try and have maintenance get it out before hope was abandoned, and were very professional and polite throughout. Maybe all those hidden fees go into manners training for employees.
          Walking home, I reflected on how ironic it would be to firebomb a firehouse. Now, I pose a question: Do you think the NSA is tagging me for that statement? Do you think they're tagging you for reading it? It's fun to think about. I also bumped into a guy wearing a shirt that read "Have a Knife Day", which seemed scary at first; after some consideration, he probably just wanted to look sharp that day. At home, I was sitting in my room and contemplating some Latin pop music playing upstairs. That is, I thought it was upstairs, until I went into the kitchen and realized it was blasting from a car out front. My room is all the way in the back of a long apartment, and the volume level was just terrifying. Tremont Street is a funny place sometimes.
          I was treated to the dining hall for the second time in two days by Katie and Sean. We settled in the vegetarian room at Stetson East, which is always something of a wild card -- some days it's empty, some days it's packed. Today it was booming, and an entire table of shrieking girls did not add anything positive to the atmosphere. Their lack of any concern for the people around them was only topped by a guy and gal at the table next to us, who were both wearing that "I don't give a damn about anyone, 2deep4u, SO ANGSTY" expression and posture, and were communicating by singing. I can think of eventualities where that might be cute, but this was not one of them. These folks were just straight-up rude. Later on, I played a game of clix with Sean and Katie, which the latter won after I concentrated my efforts on taking Sean out. Good thing, too, because I never would have been forgiven if she lost. In other news, Sean is a confirmed ass man, which means that our apartment is truly "the ass-spot", in Alaric's immortal words.
          Quotes of the day:
"I was thinking about a Swiss cheese Jesus." - Iris
"Oh my god, I hate boys! You guys are so annoying and gross and immature... Maybe you're starting to catch up a little bit. But just barely." - Iris
"I'm the nerdiest nigga you know!" - random guy on the street
"Is it a serious crime, trafficking heroin?" - Mark
"Everything is nondescript to me, except for things I really hate." - Iris
"Essay on literary motifs in the creepy messages of Michael [redacted]." - Sean
"Walking is too mainstream for me. I crawl to work." - Sean

Let's Eat Jesus

          Today was unremarkable in many ways, though I did pick up the phrase "Dell Hell," an apt descriptor of the eternal punishment that is their telephone support directory. In the evening we had pep band rehearsal in Cabot, which turned out to be pretty fun. We played a new arrangement, Blackstreet's "No Diggity", which sounds pretty tight. Afterward, I was treated to dinner at IV by either Becky, Nathan, Sara F, Malcolm, Nick, or Jasmin, and we all shared a pleasant band geek dinner. The new renovations to the dining hall are interesting as well, with that whole cyber cafe thing taken out, the sandwich area moved up to approximately where the front desk used to be, and a kosher area put in its place.
          Quotes of the day:
"More like Enter SHITman, am I right?" - me, on "Enter Sandman"
"Let's Eat Jesus would be a great college band name." - me

Womb Raider

          Owing to my reversed sleep schedule, I was up in time to "entertain" a groggy Sean with my various morning thoughts. If someone can bring a +1 to a party, why not a -1? Say there's going to be a person in attendance who they despise so much that our protagonist would rather have that person gone than bring their own friend. All they need to do is clear their -1 with the host, who will provide a single-shot, small-bore derringer upon their arrival. The protagonist may then creep up on their -1 and deliver a nonlethal gunshot wound to said person, who would then be rushed to the hospital (presumably) and therefore removed from the area. I think this would be very easy to implement on a wide scale, and everyone benefits -- healthcare services get more business, parties are free of unlikeable people, and gun sales would go way up. Also, I made up two jokes which are too dumb to tell here, but involve the phrases "decades of duck oppression" and "Womb Raider".
          All this amusement did not translate into my working day. I got off to a great start by forgetting my Charlie Card, then had lots of fun trying to use my ticket. (Every time I went to an entrance, two people would decided that they simply had to exit at that point. I walked back and forth for at least two minutes before I got a vacant turnstile.) The T was even more crowded than usual, and when I got to the State stop, I was stuck first behind old people with suitcases, and then behind asshats standing in the "walk" section on the escalator. The day was a grind, with a huge copy job going smoothly at first and then turning into a 200+ page scan 'n flip 'n merge confusion bonanza.
          Quote of the day:
"Wow, she is severely unpleasant." - Lisa

Monday Land

          Sunday night was sleepless but productive, and my decorations are really taking off. My jam for the night was Matisyahu's second album, Youth; Matisyahu is a funky Hasidic Jewish reggae singer, rapper and beatboxer worth looking into. On the way to work, I saw an inconspicuous SUV labeled "Escape Now, Inc." Internet searches for the same have yielded no results, and my conclusion is that said vehicle belongs to some kind of villain. It's certainly less attention-grabbing than a rocket escape pod, at any rate. I learned that that nasty lawyer [redacted]'s partner died of cholera at thirty, which is shocking and tragic (cholera is still a relevant disease?) as well as fitting (as pertaining to the cowboy image I've constructed for the survivor.) My scanning and sorting fun for the day included dealing with faxes from a client -- 20 pages each, all caps -- and pulling an 11 year old file and detecting the strong scent of oranges. After work, I walked down the street to East Coast Property Management's office and dropped off our condition statement and list of grievances, headed home and hit the sack from 4 to 11.
          Quotes of the day:
"Welcome to Monday Land." - Sean
"I'm counting on his cowardice to keep her safe. And if there's one thing we can count on, it's his cowardice." - Sean

Supermoves

          Somehow, I dragged myself out of bed in the morning for a pep band rehearsal. Today, we practiced in the ballroom in Curry, which is a vast improvement over the long, low room we typically use in Cabot. Unfortunately, we can't get used to it because lolreservations2monthsinadvance, but the ballroom's airiness and light were good for today. Afterward, Peter, Haley and Alaric came over to share the hair of the dog that bit us; during this time, Peter and I discovered that we share favorite candies and ice cream flavors (dem Milk Duds and based Cookie Dough, respectively.) I took an afternoon nap and then started to watch an anime called Armitage III; this was cut short by a visit from Lauren and Sabrina, since the latter returns to New York tomorrow. After a nice conversation and our goodbyes were dispensed with, they took off and I finished the movie by myself. In simple terms, I would describe it as a cross between I, Robot and Blade Runner. It was super: super-weird action sequences, a creepy super-anime mismatch between the rendering styles of the main characters, a super-sinister villain, a super-annoying secondary character, a super-confusing plot, and a super-non-conclusion. Which is not to say it was bad; on the contrary, it was an experience. Though I can safely say that I dislike the mega-distorted chibi style that seems popular for female characters, I'll have to sample more anime before I can reach a conclusion on the genre as a whole.
          Quote of the day:
"If you saw it written, you'd throw up." - JL

Bak 2 Skewl

          I had several attractive options for activities today and exercised none of them. I would have liked to attend the Freedom Rally/Hempfest, but that would have required getting out of bed in the morning; Mixfest also looked like fun this year with the Backstreet Boys and Of Monsters and Men lined up, but I had to stick around the apartment and make sure everything was shipshape.
          So, the party. We had an inordinate amount of food and snacks, not to mention a goodly amount of booze, and the apartment was ready to rumble when folks started showing up. Maybe thirty people were in attendance, and several of us withdrew into my room for an extended meeting of the joint chiefs of staff. Becky and Sabs both smoked for the first time, with the former partaking after an extended debate involving everyone in the room and her excessive refrain of, "Am I gonna throw up?" Sabrina fell asleep, and Becky was zonked out of her mind and had to go lay down in the quarantine room, where the casualties only numbered two for the evening. Matters got a little tense when five patrol cars showed up to clear out a party next door and we had to shush everyone. Peter's roommate Ryan L was invaluable during this time, acting as lookout and resident sober person, and eventually the situation cleared up. Other highlights: Giving infrequent drinker Cristina a heavy drink, with entertaining results; Kevin crashing the party with Zach and Tori (2/3 of a highlight); Peter and Harrison using their shushing powers for evil; two random guys, the affiliation of whom we still haven't figured out, appearing and then vanishing; Alaric taking the yoloest hit of the year; reaping good karma by volunteering to clean up vomit, then finding the mess already taken care of; discovering that Sabrina and I have both been on a Dirty Dancing kick; and not getting busted despite the presence of five to ten policemen within fifty feet of the apartment. I deem the party a success, though the bit with the law enforcement had the sobering effect of a bucket of ice water.
          Quotes of the day:
"Check your bloodflow privilege." - me
"Your mom is not gonna find out that you smoked weed!" - Ryan L

Out of Her Secret Life

          I love that Copy Cop's slogan is, or used to be, "CALL THE COPS". My work day was uneventful, and largely consisted of searching for cases involving contributory negligence. One of our clients, the owner of several apartment buildings and a total sugar daddy for us, is being sued by one of his tenants. Said tenant was stabbed in the eye during a drug deal gone wrong and is suing his landlord because (a) he could have made the complex safer and prevented the attack, and (b) the guy who was actually at fault and stabbed him in the face has no money to squeeze out with a lawsuit.
          When I got home, it was time to gear up. First, I rolled my first J ever with one of the papers we found at Bonnaroo and stuffed it inside the empty body of a ballpoint pen. Next, I mixed up a powerful half-and-half drink of Absolut Miami and orange juice inside a NeuroSonic bottle, which masked its contents exceptionally. I took off for South Station and boozed all the way there on the T, which was an adventure since it was rush-hour busy. I hung around at a table in the food court -- a godsend since I was getting mildly wobbly on my feet -- and waited for Alanna. During this time I occupied myself by people-watching and studying the advertisements posted all over, including this doozy of a Samsung ad: "The next big thing is not having to touch your touchscreen." Like hahahaha, what? In time, Alanna got in on the commuter rail and we took off for the Institute for Contemporary Art (the ICA for short) down by the waterfront. Along the way, we killed the drink and burned some of the J, squirreling the rest away for later.
          We entered the ICA, took an elevator upstairs and entered an amazing venue with two walls of glass facing out onto the harbor. We had arrived just in time, and the show commenced about two minutes after we found our seats. The ICA is much better at writing about music than me, so I'll just crib their description of the act:

"Nika Roza Danilova, better known by her stage moniker Zola Jesus, weaves the dueling archetypes of darkness and light into her evocative albums. Gothic, brooding beats lay the foundation for her ghostly, ethereal vocals. Since her debut in 2009, Zola Jesus has earned a fiercely devoted fan base and toured with notable acts like Fever Ray and The xx.
At the ICA, Zola Jesus performs work from her new album with famed industrial musician and composer J.G. Thirlwell, and is joined by the New York-based Mivos String Quartet."

          The show was excellent. Danilova's fluid and powerful voice blended well with the strains of the string quartet and the precise, mechanical leadership of Thirlwell. At the finish, a standing ovation summoned the players back to the stage for a lovely encore. After the show, Alanna and I sat by the water and finished our previous business, then strolled along the Harborwalk for a ways. We briefly spectated a lively wedding going on at a tent near the water, then snuck into a hotel to use the restrooms. We obtained gelato from a surly guy at a strange gelato stand under the Citizens Bank (?) I don't know what I expected, but the vanilla flavor was artificial to an unreal degree -- think vanilla Laffy Taffy. We said goodbye at South Station and I headed home. Some brahs on the Red Line were drinking Bud Lite (!) and generally being brahs; I thought I'd escaped once I was on the Orange Line, but there were also brahs on that train talking loudly about pregaming. Iris and I ended up going shopping extremely late at night for the Bak 2 Skewl party tomorrow. I'm very much looking forward to it.
          Quotes of the day:
"This guy vowed to stay alive until he saw the last payment." - Lori
...
Lori: "She's a lunatic."
Mark: "It's lunatics that keep people like us in business."

The coolest venue.

something something deer heads

I think I'm in love.

Sleep Is For the Weak

          Of course, two all nighters within a couple days of each other is pushing it even for me, and within half an hour of starting my shift at the office, I was passing out. Thankfully, business was slow; coffee and a commitment to doing everything standing up, plus my well-honed insomniac second wind, combined to keep me functioning. Today was more interesting with respect to the other folks in the office -- Lisa was in communication with an attorney who had been involved with the litigation surrounding the Station nightclub fire. Ally, Lisa and I bitched about the NU Telefund and Senior Gift for a while, the latter of which I would love to write a lengthy rant about if it wasn't so plainly, painfully dumb. (A "symbolic" monetary gift from college seniors to the bloated university that just sucked four or more years' worth of tuition and fees out of them? NO.) In other news: Some asshole at the Tewksbury MassHealth office hasn't been answering my calls for about a week, we had a client named Defense who was a defendant, there's a courier service with my initials (Affordable Rush Couriers), I'm an insomnia machine, and thanks to his documentary, there is now a strain of marijuana called Sanjay Gupta Kush.
          Sleeplessly successful, I napped until 10:30 at home. After waking, I hung out with Alaric, Sean and Katie, then withdrew into my room for a rare solo smoke session. For a change, I had a really fun time and got into a very positive state of mind. My plan was to awesome-ize the anticipated housework to follow, and this was at least a partial success, though I didn't get too much done. The rest of the time was spent sitting and listening/singing along to music, watching the Hyperspace 3D screen saver at length, and pondering the greatness of human achievements. At another point, I realized I was mentally arguing with myself over the concept of ownership of memories. (Which forms a funny full circle with an essay on the same subject that I wrote in College Writing freshman year.) Finally, I took a speedy lap out around the Fens and returned for another round of decoration, this time with pre-party urgency.
          The music got me thinking about going to shows again, and I started writing down a long list of different artists I'd like to see in concert. I was listing modern artists at first, but eventually these bled into a catalog of dead or scattered musicians that I will never get to experience for myself. Let's tick them off, shall we? Genesis, my childhood favorite, peaked long before I was born and dissolved into an almost-band many years ago; Phil Collins' retirement from music spells death for them. Cap'n Jazz was finished in the 90s, and if they were to reunite, what then? Punk rock is more than music; but it is also about a time in the musician's life, and though I wish I could have been there, I know it could never be again. The giants of rap, Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls, killed in drive-by shootings in 1996 and 1997, respectively; and Big L, shot to death in Harlem in 1999. Most of The Who is still alive, but they're so far past their prime they might as well be ghosts. And American Football disbanded in 2000 after only three years. So who's left? The current giants of rap, Jay-Z, Kanye West and Eminem, all of whom it would cost a small fortune to see in concert. Bohren & Der Club of Gore, who will likely never tour in the States. Bomb the Music Industry! is on indefinite hiatus and turns entirely on Jeff Rosenstock's will to continue, which seems to be at a record low. The Smashing Pumpkins are aging and turn entirely on Billy Corgan's creative impulses, not to mention that they also cost a small fortune to see live. Neither Immortal Technique, Canibus nor Atmosphere have any shows planned and may not again; the same goes for Death Cab for Cutie and Belle & Sebastian. Catch-22 is still in existence, but probably not in any recognizable form after their numerous lineup changes over the years; spiritual successor/competitor Streetlight Manifesto plays their last show next month. I missed Brand New in Clifton Park, NY in September; with luck they'll come to Boston soon. Hopefully I'll see Alkaline Trio when they come to the city in November. My point is this: many music festivals should be on my agenda for the next few years.
          Quotes of the day:
"Sean, you need to hop on this train so 1023 Tremont can be the ass-spot. Wait..." - Alaric
"She's always hysterical. That's her natural state." - Ally
"Alright Brian, this one's for you." - me, talking to myself
...
Sean: "Go chunky or go home."
Me: "Interesting, I've always been a creamy proponent myself... ... ...I don't know if I've ever explicitly asked you this, but are you an ass man?"
Sean: "That escalated quickly!"
...
Sean: "Don't you think the place we should shop for biddies is Bed, Bath and Biddyond?"
Me: "Don't you mean Bid, Bath and Beyond?"
Sean: "Bath and Biddy Works."

The Other Milk Street

          At last, I got a significant amount of sleep before work, and hence was very productive today. I finished scanning the "A" client files and generally put in work. I've forgotten to mention that for some reason, the 100 or so feet leading up to the building where I work always smell of curdled milk, and this was only exacerbated by how illogically hot it was today. We seemed firmly into autumn, and then bam, it was July for a day! After work, I attended a pep band rehearsal and chatted with Jared for most of the time, as well as scoping out the freshman trumpets (my feelings are mixed on this year's crop) and volunteering to be section leader (why?!) Later, Alaric and I hung out at Nathan's place on Coventry to use the internet and watch some of Ocean's 12, after which I pulled my second all nighter of the week in order to continue decorating. If all goes according to plan, my room will be a masterwork this year.
          Quote of the day:
"The true meaning of 'booster shots' does not lie in the medical field." - Alanna

Unpopped Potential

          After an all nighter, my day at work began with an excruciatingly slow grind of random tasks, pushed along by a large coffee. I made another trip to the office of the Bar Counsel on High Street which took about half as long to get to as the first time, since I didn't get horribly lost this time. By lunchtime I was pretty worn out, and in the afternoon I helped Jeremy figure out how to place a conference call. Iris helped to keep me awake for a while in the afternoon, though I eventually did nap. After I woke, we traveled into Cambridge to eat at Zinneken's, a charming, aromatic little waffle place. We elected to share the Gourmand, a Liege waffle with banana slices, whipped cream and caramel, and it was even better than it sounds. I definitely recommend this place for dessert if you're ever in Cambridge at night. Aside: I'm starting to love Cambridge. It's kind of weird how quiet it is at  night, but also peaceful, and it's so quaint to boot. Perhaps one day I'll move there.
          Quotes of the day:
"Who threw away the bubble wrap and didn't pop the bubbles?" - Adam
"One Pie to fill them all..." - Alaric

Biblical Burn Unit

          My work in slowly copying Misery's file dragged on today, though I entertained myself by reading through parts of it. Misery had been in contact with numerous priests and churches with unclear aims, and one badass priest wrote a letter to our office detailing his thoughts on her communications. Below is a large portion of his letter:

          "Ms. [redacted]'s communication with me is assertive, rambling and incoherent. The main theme of her need to communicate with me concerns the Second Coming of Christ and some instructions she has received. As a follower of Jesus Christ I share Ms. [redacted]'s belief in the Second Coming. However, where we differ is in her belief that God has given her special instructions about Christ's coming. Scripture teaches Christ-followers that neither the angels nor Jesus know when the Second Coming will happen, only God the Father. (See the Gospel of Matthew 24:30-36) Based on the authority of scripture Ms. [redacted]'s claims have no merit."

          He proceeded to state that he believed Misery was in need of medical and psychological help, but probably not before running outside to execute a slam dunk. I like to see fur fly in debates of logic with regard to theological principles. Also, a letter from Misery's estranged husband lent some perspective on how crazy she is; the guy is a convicted felon, currently in prison, and says he would never wish her on anyone and that she is the most poisonous person he's ever met. I went to court by myself and sat around waiting for a chance to talk to the clerk (the chance never came.) During this time, I watched a big legal fight over a Legal Seafood liquor license and a son translating the judge's questions for his Spanish-speaking mother. Eventually, I just went back to the office and called the clerk, who answered in an almost comical stage whisper. Lots of tasks piled up right at the end of the day, which was mildly stressful but also made it go rather quickly.
          After leaving a long message for our property manager, I took an obscenely long nap, then got up and cleaned everything. I relaxed in the library later in the night, and headed for home around 4 a.m. This led to a unique encounter at the turnoff onto our "backyard" on Coventry; as I was walking down that street in the direction of Tremont, a sketchy-looking dude turned on to Coventry going the opposite direction (big saggy t-shirt, baggy jeans, snapback, etc.) I thought little of it until I turned to go to my door and he turned immediately thereafter. I had never seen this person back there before and there are only three or four apartments accessible from there, so my first thought was of a mugger. My door is all the way at the end, and when I reached it he was still walking a few feet behind me. At this point, my fight-or-flight response was in full gear, and I have to say I wasn't scared. I figured that a) he looked pretty doughy, b) I'm reasonably fit, and c) I'm Irish and fighting runs in my blood. If he really was a mugger, I expected him to come at me while I was unlocking the door, so that was a tense moment. It turned out that he was the maintenance guy who takes out the trash bins (and apparently has no dress code whatsoever.) Thank goodness. Also, an unrelated aside: Alaric and I discovered that Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper" is an incredible drinking song. FYI.
          Quotes of the day:
"Find the right fool. Find the right method. Match the method to the fool." - Alaric, on fools and their money
"A food as opposed to B food and C food. I'd rather C food than B food." - Sean

Man Theater

          I slept until 3 p.m., Iris made scrumptious tuna melts, and I put up my first decorations. Not much else to add.
          Quote of the day:
"A man theater can have a home cave in it." - me

I Gotta Say It Was a Good Day

          I slept in until 2 and rose with a classic Andy "I just feel kind of gross" hangover, and spent much of the day putting in work with Sean on apartment cleanliness. In the evening, Alaric and I walked out to the (former) 616 girls' place on St. Alphonsus Street to celebrate Lauren's 20th birthday. All told, we numbered ten: Lauren, Alaric, Ryan, Meredith, Lauren B, Laura, Shannon, Sarah, a friend named Hannah, and me. I had a good deal of fun just hanging out and playing a great party game called Imaginiff, wherein the players compare each other to inanimate objects, abstract concepts, etc. During one vote in which the group was asked which of us is most likely to be a werewolf, I scooped nine of ten votes, with Sarah taking the stray. Meredith claims that it's because I'm hairy and have a mysterious personality; I have a hunch it's probably just the hair. After some time, Alaric and I excused ourselves and took a leisurely walk home, smoking a cigar along the way. (I've forgotten to mention that he has a goodly box of Cubans from this summer.) We sat on the curb on Coventry to finish it off, and fended off glares from a froglike woman sitting in a nearby vehicle. We were presently subject to a powerful head rush, and things only improved from there.

Fun On the Moon

          I had a dreadful nightmare that lasted all of 45 seconds. Three men were driving down a country road in a small car with "The Moon", an extremely cheery tune from the DuckTales NES game, on blast. Abruptly, a sustained, shrieking sound pierced my brain like a bolt of lightning, two of the men's heads exploded, and they keeled over dead. The third sort of burst at chest level and slid down the inside of the car, leaving a long, Technicolor red smear. All the while, this awful droning noise was buzzing so loud that my head felt like it was going to blow. The garishly happy song in the background made the dream's sudden goriness all the more shocking. I woke up disturbed and contemplated this dream for a few minutes before drifting back into sleep. Another nightmare followed, though this one was of a more banal type. I was taking a bus to a new apartment somewhere out in the sticks, and it was the dead of night. The bus moved faster and faster until the woods were flying by in a blur, we hit a sharp turn and I was thrown from a window. The bus rapidly disappeared into the darkness, and I was lost, alone, and the middle of nowhere. It was more frustrating than frightening, at any rate.
          At work, one of our characteristically angry clients has an amusing answering machine message; in a very cutting tone, she says, "According to federal law, all calls on this line may be monitored." I made another trip to the IRS to double-check that we're taking the right steps to rectify our tax problem. The same ultra-low-key agent dealt with me again, and was once again very vague as to the process. Also, my shoes set off the metal detector -- fun times. In the afternoon, I met another client who calls frequently: a self-deprecating, talkative gentleman named Jim who uncannily resembles John Candy. In between tapping out a bar complaint on the typewriter and running papers back and forth, I found time to point out something relevant to the case which Jeremy had missed and felt pretty smart. I used the rest of my shift to get some serious copying in on Misery's entire file (hint: it's huge), which we have to deliver to the Board of Bar Overseers. My productivity for today was about 300% that of the rest of the week, which seems to be a common theme. I went over to Iris's place after work, where we watched a typically mind-melting Twilight Zone episode called "The Four of Us Are Dying" about a shapeshifter. Later, Alaric and I were intoxicated with various substances and took a walk to the reflecting pool, where we shared a cigar and reflected (appropriately.)
          Quotes of the day:
"If it's white and processed, I'll eat it." - me
"It's like sex is to masturbation." - The Delivery Man, re: playing TF2 in offline mode
"4 a.m.: two kids smoking a stogie at the Reflecting Pool." - Alaric, on why we might seem suspicious
"If you were a superhero and your name was Dick Johnson, your enemies would know fear." - me

Just Us Chickens

          It's Rosh Hashanah today, and all of the lawyers are out on holiday. This put me in a very relaxed, yet low-stress and productive mood (which is not to say that they stress me out, but having no authority figures around is always fun.) I paged through law databases to find case law on what constitutes reasonable attorney's fees, which taught me more about the lodestar method than I ever cared to know, but also led me to a case where BU was forced to pay out $30,000+ to litigant students with disabilities. Also, a misspelling of "summary" in one of the case citations led to this amusing line: "In an initial decision, the trial judge granted sugary judgment to the defendants..." Sugary Judgment should be a candy marketed to metal fans. "Now with more barbed wire bits!" I also received a call from this reticent mechanic in Florida who I've been trying to get in touch with for weeks and put together all the pieces on the tax mistakes (an addition mistake was itself mistakenly reported on the 941...) Finally, I tested out a different sandwich from Archie's: the Bostonian, a pile of ham, turkey, Swiss, tomato, lettuce, onion, coleslaw, and Russian dressing on dark rye (I skipped the slaw, so that might be cheating.) On the walk home, I met a very lost Spanish guy named Daniel who's visiting a friend in Boston; when I first ran into him, some lady over by the Methunion Coop housing was giving him completely wrong directions. I had a hunch that the airport was not in the direction of Northeastern, so I set him on the right path after a brief conversation about our colleges, the city, and various TV shows. At home, my plans to get some organization done were foiled by the inevitable afternoon nap, during which I had a crazy dream about Shannon and Harrison dosing me with various psychotropic substances and leading me into a laser-lit rave that reduced me to tears of joy. My plans for the decoration of my room are a little different from those of the past two years; instead of starting the collage in the center of my wall and spreading it out like a mold, I'm starting along the baseboard and spreading it upward, like the vines on the brownstones. Perhaps it will lend a new look to the scheme, but time will tell.

Lost Focus

          I woke up feeling quite groggy, which should not come as a surprise. Small pleasures from work: taking a dump on company time; picking up a BLT at Archie's, a Greek eatery in Pi Alley; finding a chiropractor with a phone number ending in "-NECK"; laughing at Northeastern's startling technological ineptitude. To elaborate on that last point, the girls in the office received a mass email from the university that was delivered to all of the senior class. Of course, some dingus failed to Bcc:, meaning that people had to scroll through thousands of names before reaching the actual message. A people's champion replied with only the link to the Wikipedia page on blind carbon copy. Less pleasurable: having to fax something to Staples for someone to pick up (prompting a resigned, "It's never easy," from Jeremy); getting an email from Northeastern about how my health plan wasn't waived and today is the deadline, despite having gone to the office in person to address this issue. In the evening, Iris and I went to afterHOURS to see Anjimile (Jackie's girlfriend and patently nice person) and glitch-hop outfit Baths, who I've listened to before with mixed feelings. We bumped into the Delivery Man and some random freshmen he'd fallen in with there and merged with their group. Anjimile put on a fine show replete with enthusiasm, shout-outs to Jackie, folky guitar playing, and even a fun cover of Weezer's "Say It Ain't So". Baths was not what I expected. It's remarkable how cranking the volume 500% turns a relaxing, glitchy pop dream into a terrifying, glitchy, danceable pop nightmare; "Ocean Death" is a completely insane track. Other songs, such as "Plea", burn with emotion and are well enhanced by Wiesenfeld's ethereal, looping vocals. I would absolutely love to see this band again. Aside: Some of the library's new tables are made of paper. You can sketch on them and peel off sheets to start over. It's pretty wild.
          Quotes of the day:
"I'm the ultimate social lubricant." - The Delivery Man
"I'm taking a booty call. I'm taking a booty call." - middle-aged woman on Tremont at 2 a.m.

Back To Twerk

          Today, I learned that Citizens Bank plays the absolute worst muzak in their State Street office. A constable who worked in our building died in his office at the age of 52, and according to Jeremy he was "kind of a sad guy"; this sentence serves to eulogize him. During the morning, I got in touch with my guy at Mass Art for a pickup later in the day, and thenceforth maintained seven concurrent text conversations with Alaric, Katie, Alanna, Brian, Peter, Ariel and Haley, most of them related. Mark has a new assistant, a tall, black, elegant girl named Junie that speaks French Creole. Additionally, I had a great experience at Bank of America when I went to cash some checks around lunchtime. I had a normal paycheck from work, as well as two smaller checks from the Red Onion that had been waiting for me; upon signing one of the latter and putting it down to sign the others, a draft from the open door blew it behind the table and out of reach. It became lodged between the baseboard and table, and my best efforts to extricate it with a yardstick (which I bought across the street for this purpose) failed. I'll return another day to ask about the check, since its inaccessibility and the amount of trash that was already back there tell me that no one's getting to it anytime soon.
          After work, I took the Orange Line to Roxbury Crossing and walked deep into Mission Hill to get to my guy's apartment. He lives out in the back of the Hill, and it was an arduous walk reaching his place, not least because I took a couple of wrong turns. I arrived and he buzzed me into a foyer that smelled mildly of weed; this led to a staircase and a door, behind which it smelled somewhat more of weed. Through another door was the living room, which was pretty much a smoke shop at this point; my guy and his roommates were all playing DBZ: Budokai on the TV, which brought me back to like 7th grade. A few minutes later, I was out of there with a light wallet, a light heart, and minus my yardstick, which I'd mistakenly abandoned. A few hours later, I was sitting around with Peter, Haley and Alaric, all stoned off our asses; Ariel also joined us, though she elected only to sip on some liquor. It's nice having my own room.
          Quote of the day:
Me: "Commissioner Gordon must have been baked when he thought up the Bat-Signal."
Peter: "Of course he was. He probably imagined Batman."
[Author's note: Imagine a retelling of Batman where the titular character is just the vengeful side of Gordon's personality...]

Start Your Day Off Right With a Grinder

          I got up for Convocation feeling like utter crap and running quite late. If we needed more proof that President Aoun is a wicked man, consider the level of evilness involved in making band folks get up at 7 a.m. on Labor Day. Picking up my spare trumpet, I ran to the band closet at top speed to obtain a polo, arriving just in time. At Matthews, we spent some time warming up for the performance while the place was mostly empty, and by the end of these warmups my chops were already blown out. We were afforded a few minutes' break, which I used to grab a sandwich at Wollaston's with Anthony. We then waited impatiently through Convocation. Highlights: muttering about Aoun under our breaths (that might just have been me); muttering about the student speaker under our breaths (definitely not just me); affording a laugh for the dean of the College of Science, who somehow manages to tell a joke every year while everyone else is soullessly bland; screaming internally because it's the same drawn-out waste of time I've attended twice too many times already. The pep band then ushered the kiddies out with a series of songs played one after the other, which is a nightmare if you haven't picked up a trumpet in four months. Of course, JL chose to save "Holiday" for last, which we protested as cruel and unusual punishment; he dismissed our concerns, we played the song, and it was a total mess. I called out a request for "The Impression That I Get," to which JL snarkily replied, "You couldn't play the last one and you want to play another song?" I posit that the two songs are incomparable in difficulty, though they inhabit the same general plane of awesomeness. Afterward, I took a very long nap and spent some time with Alaric and Iris, with the latter being extremely silly and clowning around with a jar of peanut butter. Later on, Alaric and I headed to Snell to play some Team Fortress 2, heavy/medic bro'ing it and doing the whole "play as a famous pair" thing. (Dolce and Gabbana being one of the better combinations we came up with.)
          Quote of the day:
Me: "I will kill you."
Alaric: "I may kill you."

Orange Line Boyz

          We packed the van in a more or less timely manner this morning, and it was off for Boston again. After battling terrible rain and some asshole who was within 2 feet of our bumper, we pulled into a spot on Tremont Street in one piece. Thus began the move into my first apartment; it's all very exciting. At my back door on Coventry, the previous tenants of the apartments in the area left a huge pile of trash, and I retrieved quite a few interesting items while hunting through it. These include a volleyball, a fancy desk chair, a circular wooden table, a floor lamp, a wastebasket (which was later stolen by someone else), a red bucket, a wall-hung photo frame thing, and a Northeastern Police barricade. Since it had just rained and broken glass was strewn all over, some things were sadly beyond my ability to keep -- a papasan, a cheap desk, a decent poster or two. We also picked up a coffee table that someone had left out on Tremont, so that's one common room need taken care of. The couch that Alaric bought is great; it's okay looking, springy, and long enough to sleep on comfortably. In other news, one of the Andrews from Reason, Risk and Evidence is living right above us, and our first interaction had me letting him into his own apartment after being locked out on the balcony. In the evening, we threw a little housewarming party with mojitos (not a big fan) and some insane Greek liquor which is chased with a teaspoon of honey; Alaric, Sean, Katie, Haley, Nathan, and Iris were in attendance, with Cristina and Shandana around earlier in the evening. The mood in the apartment is buoyant, though much remains to be done.
          Quote of the day:
"See? See? You like that hipster sauce." - Katie