Masquerade Prelude

          Happy Halloween to everyone! My favorite holiday has come once again. I successfully reversed my sleep schedule to that of a normal person once again, and I felt pretty great this morning. Jeremy had me switch over to a new method of organizing my workload (old and new business rather than an exhaustive, detailed list) and I felt much more productive. I did my best to spread the positivity around, but my extreme politeness only slightly mitigated the thick-hided meanness of the post office lady (mean post office ladies are definitely a trend.) Also, clients of lawyers seem to have no problem with no-showing for appointments or blithely strolling in thirty or forty minutes after their scheduled time.
          Quote of the day:
"You know what [redacted] did after his accident? Played poker for 36 straight hours!" - Lisa

Beards Across America

          Notes for this entry were lost.

          I watched the final game of the World Series at Peter's with him, Iris, Clay, Ryan L, Molly, Haley, Alaric, and a friend of Molly's who I've never met before.  Early in the game, I called the score at 6-2 Red Sox; it landed at 6-1, which I think is close enough. Everyone but Ryan L, Iris and I left early to get over to Fenway before the end of the game, but I was content with sitting and watching from the safety of the dorm. My favorite moment: Jacoby Ellsbury running back and forth between two bases as the Cards tried and failed to tag him out. (Click here.) After the victory, people were going nuts out on the street all night. I'm not primarily a Sox fan, but it's satisfying that they won at home after such a long drought.
          Quotes of the day:
"Somebody's hitting a way early menopause." - Junie, re: Lisa
"This is my identification." - Peter, re: moustaches
"Two Phillies fans were fighting each other. They were on the same team. One guy had a little girl with him. The other one poured his beer on the little girl's head. Philly." - Peter
"It's the Diversity Quartet!" - Ryan L
"The Apple store is an old people magnet." - Ryan L
...
Alaric: "That is a chinstrap. That is actually a strap around his chin."
Peter: "It holds his hair on."

cantthinkofausername95

          Notes for this entry were lost.

          Today, I had to contact a client whose email is ilikecheese16@[domain redacted].com. Even more embarrassingly, I had to say it out loud, since Jeremy had written it down incorrectly and I had to contact them by phone to double check. My boss left his wallet on the T and it was quickly returned (!), except that the guardian angel took all of his cash. Jeremy gloated that they didn't bother to take his T pass or other valuable gift cards, etc., but I was more contemplative of the fact that they returned the wallet at all, despite their willingness to steal money out of it. Put into that situation, I don't know if I would follow the same course.

Man-Skills

          Notes for this entry were lost.

          Today was one of those fun days where I pull an all nighter, feel tired all morning, and then get a glorious second wind in the afternoon. I also applied my man-skills to change the water cooler jug since Mark wasn't around and he always does it.

          Notes for this entry were lost.

          Notes for this entry were lost.

Shiver Shiver Would Have Been a Better Title For This Entry

          Notes for this entry were lost.

          At work, we had a series of temperature battles where various people would come lean over my desk to adjust the thermostat. Meanwhile, I did my best to work through the office's tax filing issues.
          Quote of the day:
"I'm just gonna take this opportunity to not freeze my ass off." - Lisa

Shiver Shiver

          A word from the author: My phone died and took a month's worth of notes for this journal with it. The next thirty or so entries will be missing a great deal of information, especially quotes, which I know are everyone's favorite part. If said information is missing for a day, it will be noted in the beginning of the entry.
          Notes for this entry were lost.

          I made myself useful at work today, spotting a mistake in an important letter that was about to be sent out, finally getting some typewritten complaints finished, and plowing through business large and small. Later, I learned that I'm being paid less than I thought, and said pay is not being withheld from, meaning that my overall income is considerably less than I've accounted for. At least today I really earned the money I thought I was making. In Mark's office, they came to the realization that a client with an identical twin sister had impersonated her on several occasions, sometimes with fraudulent implications.
          Notes from the future: I guess this phone snafu means now is as good as ever to discuss the purpose of this blog. I referred to it as a journal in the foreword for this entry, and this was not by accident. It makes me happy that some people tolerate or even enjoy reading my writing, but the primary intent is not to attract more readers, but simply to chronicle my own experiences in a way that I can look back on and enjoy. This is why I record my dreams, despite how notoriously uninteresting they tend to be for anyone but the dreamer. This is also why I'm extremely upset that thirty entries' worth of notes are gone. And finally -- disregarding the fact that I'd probably make pennies per month anyway -- this is why I will never use AdSense and whore out my page with banner ads. Here, life is pure, preserved, and most importantly, safe from the dangers of fire, water, theft or loss that could destroy an ordinary paper journal. Thanks for reading!
          Quotes of the day:
"It's like Sister, Sister, Criminal Version." - Junie
After Lisa lied flawlessly and at great length to an insurance adjuster...
Junie: "Such a smooth operator!"
Lisa: "I'm like the world's best liar."

Saving Private Balto

          For work today, I attended part of a mediation at a local office specializing in bringing parties to an agreement before resorting to the time and expense of a trial. The mediator was a genial attorney with a seeing-eye dog named Theo and an uncanny skill for seeming like he's on everyone's side at the same time. I sat immediately next to a plate of baked goods, but was hesitant to make the first move and was ultimately denied any sugary satisfaction. After work, I walked out to Garment District with Sean but ultimately found nothing suiting my costume. When I got home, I relaxed with a low-key TF2 session; I am both amazed and extremely depressed to report that my total hours spent on TF2 amount to 1,142: 47.583 days, in sum. Though perhaps nothing should surprise me after that revelation, I just about crapped my pants when fighter jets flew low overhead (to commemorate the Red Sox win, I learned later on.) For a split second, I was convinced that either a) I was about to be killed in an explosion or b) a plane was crashing in the neighborhood or c) both. Apparently, the flyover was made immediately after memorial footage of the marathon was played at Fenway. To quote Maddie: "#smart". Iris, Alaric and I watched Saving Private Ryan, which I somehow enjoy a little less each time I watch. To be fair, I was wiped at this point, but I also have to say that the one-sidedness of the characters makes it tough to digest. I understand that Steven Spielberg is Jewish. I still dislike how the only German with a personality is first a cold-blooded killer, then begs like a dog, and then resumes being a cold-blooded killer. Even a trace of emotion on the part of any German in the film -- the terror of battle, for example, or shell shock, or maybe a pain that goes beyond "I'm yelling so the audience knows that the good guys shot me" -- would do wonders for it.
          Quotes of the day:
"Sometimes I'll mediate a case where the demand is a zillion dollars. That's okay, that works -- if the plaintiff understands the game."  - Attorney K.
"Go go gadget homeowners association!" - Sean

R.E.M. Meltdown

          Work was sleepy. I had the opportunity to speak with a perma-stressed client who has a talent for being cutting and polite at the same time, which makes some of our encounters very strained for me. I also had a brief conversation with Junie about a Fiona Apple concert which she maintains is worth $74; I am mildly dubious, but I wouldn't be surprised if she put on a killer show.
          Quotes of the day:
"I'm gonna have a meltdown on them." - Ally
"Ha! I just coerced her into accepting facts!" - Lisa
"Honestly, what do these people do all day?" - Ally, having a 16 Hours moment
"Did you expect her to be young and beautiful like us?" - Ally
"That's what math is for. I am a statistics bulldog." - Pablo (courtesy of Alanna)
"All I eat is grilled cheese and mashed potato. And bacon. And veggie burgers." - Ally

Panic Button

Note: I apologize for the formatting of this post, I've tried multiple times to fix it and it just refuses to cooperate. I'll try again later, but for now please forgive me for the crime against eyesight.
 
          I basically jumped out of bed and ran out the door this morning, panicking all the way. Sean called me as the T was pulling up, which reminded me of that awesome scene from The Sum of All Fears: "BALTIMORE!" At work, our printer ghost jammed and, despite not actually being jammed, maddeningly forced me to take numerous arbitrary steps to fix it before it would return to normal. I found correspondence from a lawyer whose office is or was located at "1 Billings Road, Suite 101." ...Indeed. In other news, this whole "looking back six months after the marathon" thing. I apologize for contradicting my promise of 4/15 not to rant about this. Okay.
           This is 9/11 fever to a new level. We're "looking back"? We don't even wait a year before "reflecting"? It was six months ago! The wound is still fresh. What's next, commemorative quarters? Now, let's put the bombing in perspective: Yes, it was bad; yes, it was tragic. I shouldn't even have to preface with that, but this is America we're talking about. But let's look at the figures: five dead (including one of the bombers himself) and short of three hundred injured. Remember the 1993 WTC bombing? Seven people died there, along with over a thousand injured. When was the last time you heard about that event (the better question being: how long are we going to have to hear about Boston on a regular basis?) For good measure, consider 9/11: nearly three thousand dead and over six thousand injured. Looking at 9/11 and the Marathon bombing in the same light is like putting Muhammad Ali up against Larry King.
           Looking a little further into the bombing to find data on casualties has been an interesting mental exercise. For starters, let's note that upon his capture, the surviving bomber, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, was not read his Miranda rights before what is described as an "initial" interrogation. Dzhokhar supposedly ran over and killed his older brother Tamerlan while escaping a firefight with the police; I don't dispute that he ran the body over, but given the circumstances, to consider it a homicide is absurd. Either the police killed him outright, or the death was accidental at worst. Tsarnaev was also charged with the use of a weapon of mass destruction (I shit you not.) The government's prosecutors are clearly trying to throw the book at him, which seems ridiculous and unnecessary considering what legitimate charges there can be against him: three premeditated homicides, another homicide (the MIT officer shot during their flight), illegal weapons and explosives charges, etc. etc. The above-referenced murder has apparently been referred to as an "assassination," which is patently ridiculous as the officer was neither a public nor political figure. And this, pulled from Wikipedia:
"When the suspect started poking at the tarp of the boat, police began a large volume of gunfire at the boat, stopping only after the Superintendent on the scene called for a cease fire. Celebrations followed law enforcement's capture of Tsarnaev. According to Boston Police Commissioner Ed Davis, and Watertown Police Chief Deveau, Tsarnaev was shooting from inside the boat at police, 'exchanging fire for an hour.' After he was captured, Tsarnaev was found not to have any weapons."
Or this:
"On May 22, the FBI were interviewing Ibragim Todashev, a Chechen from Boston, in Orlando. During the interrogation he was shot and killed by an FBI officer who claimed that Todashev attacked him. The New York Times quoted an unnamed law enforcement official as saying that Todashev had confessed to the 2011 Waltham murders and implicated Tsarnaev as well. However, the father of Ibragim Todashev claims that his son is innocent and that federal investigators are biased against Chechens and made up their case against him."

          In the evening, I went to an event sponsored by an LGBT organization on campus: a talk given by George Takei! Alaric, Haley and I got to hear his signature "Ohh myy!" more times than anyone really ever needs to, and the talk itself was interesting. Instead of the gratuitous silliness with a side of social activism we were expecting, the night was rather a deep and frank talk about being a public member of the LGBT community with an undercurrent of humor. Though unexpected, it was refreshing to hear. Afterward, I chilled out with the boys and girls at 1023, and the Delivery Man came for a TF2 session.

          Quotes of the day:

"Rochell at BMC is my nemesis." - Lisa

"Ohhh myyy!" - George Takei

Handegg Unlimited

          I rose in the afternoon and walked to Giovanni's to pick up soda for the pep band football watching party in afterHOURS. After pausing for a moment to check the score in Giovanni's, I headed over and joined the party, where they were almost out of Wings Over Boston. I expedited the end of the snacks and contented myself with rooting for the Patriots, since they were matched against the contemptible Jets. (Aside: It's amusing that since the Jets and the Giants are both actually based in New Jersey, the hated Buffalo Bills are the only real New York football team.) Upon my arrival, Matt T, Anne Marie, Andrew G, Molly, Haley, Austin, Jared, Alaric, Sara, Nathan, and some randoms were present; of these, only Andrew was a Jets fan. Peter and Taylor eventually made an appearance as well and bolstered the Jets fanbase. A couple of hours later, those two came to visit me, and after a meeting of the joint chiefs of staff we journeyed to Tasty Burger (again.) Afterward, we returned for seconds and found that the Patriots had lost due to a foul described by sports media as "controversial" (i.e. it was full of shit.)
          Quote of the day:
"I got testes! I just got it!" - Peter

Third Station of the Cross

          I slept like a log after last night's festivities and came to around 1 p.m. After some time spent at Iris's apartment, I was off to the men's hockey game versus Holy Cross. The match went well from the start with Northeastern scoring three times in the first period, and by the end Holy Cross was eating our dust, 5-2. Highlight: two Crusaders mobbing up on one Husky and slamming him into the wall, only for him to escape unscathed and still in possession of the puck. Post-game, Matt came to visit for a few hours and we did tarot readings with Jared and Iris. The way the cards were looking, my tenure as section leader will be fraught with strife and treachery, so that's something to look forward to.

Shattered Reflection (T&C Forever)

          Jeremy was out of the office all day due to some business in Chicago, and I was not productive in the least. The aforementioned elderly client called a few more times, and having spent enough time talking to me over the phone to know that I've been sick, she mentioned that she put my name in on a prayer line and that they'd be praying for me for the next 30 days. I did feel much better today, though. In the course of co-op applications, Mark's office received one from an actor who played Bobby Baccalalieri Jr. in The Sopranos and was also in School of Rock.
          After work, Iris walked to the Roxbury Comcast center with me, since I didn't want to risk mailing the check and having it arrive late. Cristina and Julianne came out to watch the Underwear Run with Iris, and we all went to get Dominos beforehand. After chowing down, the girls headed over to the Pru to find a place to sit, and I ran over to Peter's to meet up with the boys. I started out in a group with Alaric, the Delivery Man, Peter, and his friends Nick and Taylor from home; we were soon separated, though. The run was glorious as ever (I have to say it's among my top three favorite Northeastern events) and on the way back, I joined a horde of people in the reflecting pool for the first time. Since much of the pack was still behind us when we finished, Alaric and I stood near the end and threw high fives and encouragement at people; we ran into Malcolm, Georgia, Allie, Lauren, Jared, Lena, and Jackie as well. The mood was exuberant as always, and an afterparty was naturally on the agenda. Within an hour, we squeezed twelve people into Peter's little dorm room: the host and friends, Iris and the girls, Alaric and Haley, Claire, Malcolm, the Delivery Man, and me. Irresponsible activities were soon to follow, and the night was a blast. Highlights: Sploof signaling techniques; macking; me spilling two separate beers four separate times.
          Quote of the day:
"She had a hospital bill of $40,000?!" - Mark
"This girl was twirling her hair and was like, 'I just really like Python.'" - Cristina, re: flirts at MIT
"Exhibit A of whatever I was trying to say." - Peter
"Got it! Got it! Last second buzzer beater!" - Peter, re: making me laugh

21 Bitch Salute

          Today was not so great. My nasty cough transformed into a stuffy nose, sore throat, and awful headache; together, all of these made the day seem to go on forever and made its events more irritating than they already were. One client called to inform me of how she flipped out on a public official (his MA license plate number is below 100, for perspective) and threw a cup of coffee at his PR guy. Another called several times to bug me about matters our office is not involved in; she's a sweet old Catholic lady, but her undying need to rehash everything 50 times and insistence on getting Jeremy involved in things I could handle myself make her calls a bit of a nuisance now and again. Since he was out of the office, all of these calls basically amounted to "let me get back to you." I bit the bullet and purchased my Alkaline Trio ticket online. First off, I love getting bent over the barrel and forced to make an account to purchase something online, and it should have come as no surprise that scummy ticket companies do this kind of thing. It makes extra work for the customer, it subjects them to spammy emails, and it's a violation of trust. Also, this: "all fees included" followed by a tacked-on $3 processing fee. I left work in a black mood and got stuck walking behind 4 oldsters inching along the sidewalk, four abreast. I could seriously crawl faster than they were walking. At home, I attempted to clear up my headache and irritability with a bubble bath, nap, Hotline Miami session and r/PoliticalHumor, which were a great help.

It's All About the Coin

          My throat has improved marginally, but now I've got a hoarse, chronic cough that is undoubtedly irritating to everyone nearby. Work was uneventful, though one sugar daddy of a client who we've represented in several cases did come in for a meeting. (He owns several apartment buildings and is pretty much Mr. Monopoly, except Hispanic and minus the top hat and cane.) I was thinking, wouldn't it be something if we started our lives old, Benjamin Button-style, except that we'd have all this extraneous, useless knowledge when we were young and forget it all as time went on? This sprung from the idea of laying on my deathbed and thinking, "Why did I waste so much damn time reading about [insert topic] on Wikipedia?" After a relaxing evening of vijames, Sean and I had a long, cathartic talk and made some scrumptious sloppy joes around midnight.
          Quotes of the day:
"Fuckin' nonwhites trying to get co-ops in my country..." - Alaric
"You're not a pyro, you're a fuckin' spy!" - c:SANTAc:CookinWithc:Heisenb
"4 rockets, this guy shoulda been deceased weeks ago." - c:SANTAc:CookinWithc:Heisenb

Cough the Air

          Like many other illustrious days of work, my day began with this conversation: "It's 8." "Fuck!" For some reason, though, days that begin crappily for me often turn out to be the most productive. My throat is sore and I'm a little sick, but I got a solid amount of tasks done, including revising our super-outdated contact list, resolving two cases, and setting up the new printer upon its arrival. I'd wanted to go with a laserjet, but timing and stock constraints forced our hand. By the time I got home from work, my throat was burning and my sinuses were killing me, so I took a long nap at Iris's apartment. Most of it was spent with a lozenge in my mouth (not fun when I woke up) and a tissue under my nose with this weird mint stuff on it, imbued with a bracing smell that clears the sinuses. Upon waking, my health seemed somewhat improved and I returned to the apartment to share potluck leftovers and hang out with Alaric, Haley, Nathan and Sean.

Po Boys

          Before I can dispense with talk of the Butta Burger (at least until the next time someone orders it), I need to make a final statement: The shit was the worst part, the shit is the worst part, and the shit will be the worst part. It is my civil duty to inform you of this. Butta Burgers: not even once. Moving on. Iris came home from New York City today after spending the weekend with her friend Lillian, who Iris describes as a "twinkie." Eric came up for a rare visit and cooked up a huge early Thanksgiving feast at the girls' place on St. Alphonsus, so Haley, Iris, Alaric and me walked over to share in the food and fun; also present were Harrison and Lauren C. The night was full of snapchatting, scarfing of characteristically amazing Eric food, telling stories, and general merriment. After we finally excused ourselves for the night, we went home and perused old photo albums on my computer, especially the great many photos I took freshman year.
          Quotes of the day:
"PO BOYS!!!!" - Eric
"The tribe runs deep. Right, Harrison?" - Eric
"The Bank of Harrison is always open." - Harrison
"...brutally simple..." - Eric

It's Like Buttah

          I had a strange and uncomfortable dream in which I was in a crowd of hundreds of people, milling about in a theme park-y, Zoom Flume-y location at night. Some torches and orange lights illuminated the crowd. I found myself by a street as a parade was passing by, and I was killing time until I had to solo the national anthem on trumpet in a little while. I smoked out of glass that appeared in my hand, and looked to my right into the questioning eyes of JL. He looked me up and down and asked, "Are you gonna be good to play?" I tried a nonchalant "Yeah," and after another look, he walked off. I guess I was off the hook.
          I took this dream as a sign, and became summarily blazed while accomplishing much cooking, cleaning and organizing of my chambers and the living room. All of this was done in the course of a one-man apartment-rocking music party, and I had a great time. Peter, Jared and Alaric joined me for some Super Smash Bros. (long since abbreviated to "Smash") and then a venture to Tasty Burger, for which Cira and Haley also came along. In accordance with our new tradition, if that is an acceptable phrase, I was the one to spring for a Butta Burger this time. It is monstrous. Where Jared was swiftly stomach-bludgeoned into motionlessness, I suffered from deranged thought processes. My stomach was actually screaming at my mind, "Stop! What are you doing to me?" Our waitress came to the table and asked how we were doing, and I replied with, "How are you?" In the end, I am proud to say I did it. Peter is next to get butta'd. While at Tasty Burger, we also watched the Patriots squeak a glorious win over the Saints. I've said it before: the North will rise again. A very long walk home led to another sleepy viewing of The Usual Suspects, more Smash, and finally a contemplative stogie walk with Alaric out into Mission Hill.
          Quotes of the day:
"Never leave a fry behind." - Alaric
"Oh, jesus! Milkify me, cap'n!" - Alaric
"Bring out the honeybees, 'cause we got that buzz." - Alaric

Invasive Orientals

          I rose early to travel out to Olmsted Park with Sean, where we were to volunteer with the Emerald Necklace Conservancy. The park is named after Frederick Law Olmsted, who designed Central Park and the Emerald Necklace, among other public spaces. When we arrived, I felt gratefulness wash over me -- the Necklace is a marvelous example of what one person can do with the assistance of earth-moving machinery and a truckload of money. We took the Green Line to Heath Street and were the first to arrive, save for the two volunteer coordinators. We were soon joined by a huge contingent of Northeastern CEP students (why do they always come in a pack?) and a sprinkling of randoms. Our task was tearing out invasive Oriental bittersweet vines, which would quickly prove to be much easier said than done. The vine climbs trees, chokes them to death, and moves along the canopy to destroy entire forests, and judging by the last few calls for volunteers, the Conservancy has been putting in a lot of work to try and halt its progress. Despite being armed to the teeth with shears, clippers, shovels and trowels, our efforts were met with ample resistance from the bittersweet. First off, some of the plants we weren't allowed to destroy were very thorny, which led to numerous nicks and scratches, including two long, thin cuts down the side of my face. The bittersweet itself grows many skinny but tenacious tendrils that wrap around other plants, strangle their growth, and make the vine more difficult to simply pull out. Having disengaged many of these and successfully torn out a few smaller plants, we were feeling confident about our progress. This shifted to frustration and then to horror as we excavated the larger ones and found that they were all connected an inch or two under the soil. Despite being a fast-growing vine, the roots are essentially like those of small trees, and the way the root systems expand is such that it severely hampers their removal. Each plant grows an inch or two down and then expands laterally, growing up in multiple spots and continuing to expand all the while. Each of these offshoots (as well as the thick horizontal roots connecting them) also grows numerous roots which extend downward and severely complicate the task of yanking them out of the ground, even if the lateral connections are snipped. Eventually, following much grubbing around in the dirt, we unearthed a disconcertingly large root ball at the junction of several vines which took about an hour and a half to remove. After Sean and I severed its last artery into the ground, I brushed off most of the dirt to find that it looks disturbingly like a human heart (and is more or less the same size.) The root now occupies a space on my windowsill, and when I look at it out of the corner of the eye, I think I can see it beating.
          After I got home, dirty and tired, I went for a short run with Sean and played some TF2 to unwind. He also came to our second hockey game versus the University of Alabama at Huntsville, which was his own virginal Northeastern hockey game. After the slaughter at last night's game, we were expecting something similarly pitiable, even if Alabama tightened up a bit; my prediction was 6-2. Instead, the game was a narrow 3-2 victory, too close given how badly we shellacked them previously. Since we won anyway, I can now comfortably say that it was a better game, at least. Sean was Joe Cool the whole time, standing like a sentinel at the top of the Doghouse and hardly making eye contact with Alaric or me. Post-game, I watched the timeless FX classic I, Robot with Sean, Peter and Nathan. I've probably seen that movie four or five times, and it is truly never bad (even though it has little and less to do with Asimov's novel beyond the Three Laws.)
          Quote of the day:
JL: "What?"
Me: "Yeah!"
JL: "What?"
Me: "Lil Jon!"

rare footage of Frederick Law Olmsted

The North Will Rise Again!

          I realized something had happened under our noses in 1023 Tremont. Some days ago, the plastic packaging to a sink stopper was sitting next to the sink, with so sign of its contents. Some things from under the sink were strewn about on the floor, but I figured that Sean or Alaric had picked up a stopper and attempted to fix the problem. Cut to today, when I asked both of my roommates about it and we all looked at each other as if to say, "What?" Apparently, our property manager or one of his agents (1) entered our apartment without notice, (2) caused a mess in our bathroom, including litter, belongings tossed about and spillage of an unknown liquid under the sink, and (3) failed to fix the problem they entered on account of in the first place. I'm almost certain that anything beyond the scope of an emergency (i.e. repairs necessary to preserve the occupants' health or the property itself) requires prior notice from the landlord. While no harm was technically done, I'm just a little rustled to know that our property manager sees no issue in entering our place without our knowledge or permission. Meanwhile, my replacement keys still have not materialized, meaning that only one of three doors into the spot is accessible to me, not counting the next door over (for which my keys also do not work) and the mailbox behind it (for which I was never provided a key.) What I'm trying to say is, ECPM had better get its shit together, and fast.
          Work was a full day of running all around the block. This included a trip to court, a trip to the bank, and two trips to Staples, all before noon. I went there again in the afternoon and picked out a printer for the office; naturally, the previous one failed just as Staples is moving all of its stock to another location down the street, so the pickings were extremely slim in the store. We were forced to just order a new one, meaning that my capacity to get work done is substantially reduced until next Tuesday or so. In other news, everything I believed was a lie: Logan isn't coming this weekend because of a busted gas line, and I have to work on Columbus Day.
          I got far too drunk with Seth, Alaric, Peter and Clay at Peter's place before the men's hockey game versus the University of Alabama at Huntsville. First off, I'm surprised that they know what hockey is in Alabama. When we arrived on the scene, my coordination was exceptionally FUBAR and I did my best not to make eye contact with JL. Luckily for me, the band would not be taking itself too seriously this evening. With five minutes still left in the first period, the score was Huskies 4-0, and we had 26 shots on goal to their lonely 1. Before the game was up, several of us had taken a ridiculous selfie and sent it to everyone including JL, much music was played, and the score rounded out at 9-1. Afterward, we had no choice but to zoom back over to Peter's and return to our previous, drunken state; this time, the company was Peter, Alaric, Haley, Inspector Malcolm, Becky, Claire, and her friend from home, Corel. A copious amount of Kings was followed by an attempt at The Usual Suspects, during which everyone passed out. I couldn't find my keys when I got home, so I had to knock on the front window to get in for the night. Hopefully they turn up at Peter's.
          Quote of the day:
"I've given Staples enough money, I should be on the board there." - Jeremy
"We're going with '90s FCC rules here." - Peter
"Don't hug me, I have to pee!" - Haley

Also, Staples has been infiltrated by at least one punny, Anthony's-sense-of-humor-having bastard:
"Rewards made easier. Congratulations! You are now registered for an easier way to track your rewards and purchases. Be sure to stop back often and see just how much you're earning. It'll be, dare we say, rewarding."

GEYSER SODA

          I had a very long, muddled dream involving driving at night and listening to alarms, sneaking into an old lady's house and eavesdropping on Loki planning an invasion of Earth, and a trial in a courthouse on a hill, in which Iris and Katharine testified. There was also an amusing moment where a dude I knew from Boy Scouts choir unsuccessfully hit on a catty girl from my high school choir. Perhaps this was a foretelling of how annoying and confusing my day would be. First, we had to purchase a ribbon for the fax machine and a whole set of new ink cartridges for the printer, which ran us about $100 all told. The printer then chose to fail as soon as I installed the new cartridges despite working basically perfectly beforehand, and it failed in a way that had nothing to do with ink. Some piece fell and hung down inside the paper feed mechanism, severely crumpling every page that went through, and all my efforts to fix it came to nothing. I couldn't even find a record of this happening to anyone else. I combed through pages and pages of HP consumer reports (aside: I find it telling that HP users are called "consumers," not "customers") as well as the official troubleshooting forums, but no dice. I finally gave up when I attempted to reach support on the telephone and encountered the Dell "pay for phone assistance if it's not under warranty" model. I advised Jeremy that the damn thing should be replaced, and he is taking it under advisement. After work, I went out of my way and walked over to House of Blues to buy an Alkaline Trio ticket, only to find the box office closed (at 4 on a weekday?!) and a notice that advance tickets were available at a theater on Hamilton Place, which is 2 miles back the way I came. Since the entire point of this walk was to save on all of the idiotic fees that come along with an online purchase (heaven knows there are already enough charges rolled in at the box office), this was infuriating to no end. In the evening, I relaxed by taking another shot at getting through The Usual Suspects with Iris, and this time, I was successful. In short: The movie is an awesome thriller/mystery and has earned a spot among my favorites. The dialogue and action are fantastic, the ending (guess who called it) is completely nuts, and Kevin Spacey is particularly lovable as the gimp Verbal Kint.

The Ghost of Copies Past

          I've been tearing up magazines on the T in the morning, and the last few I've gone through have been ancient, papery copies of The Conservationist, the official magazine of the New York Department of Environmental Conservation. They're made of real paper, not that plasticky Reader's Digest "paper," and they have this wonderful old-magazine smell that you can't get from decade-old issues of TIME, or even your daddy's backlog of National Geographic. Moving on, if there is one thing that I've learned from my job, it's to get everything in writing when dealing with people you don't trust. In the short time I've worked in this office, I've seen a bunch of cases that would have been open and shut if half of the evidence wasn't "he said, she said." I spent more time running around to get those briefs for the SJC finished, including an aggravating episode with Copy Cop. I called the number on record for their Washington Street location, and someone picked up the phone and answered my questions. I went to said location and found it closed for renovation, as was the other one previously situated nearby. This begs the question: Who was phone?
          I went to Sir Speedy instead, and they dealt with our problem in about ten seconds with high efficiency and courtesy, red paper and all. ("Is this shade of red acceptable?") Victorious, I grabbed my typical BLT at Archie's, where the cashier almost remembered my sandwich -- she has before -- and saw me out with a personable "See you soon!" It's nice being remembered at your local sandwich shop -- very homey. I spoke with Logan about his upcoming visit, but it seems like the trip has been thrown into question.
          Quote of the day:
"Who wants to tell him you spoke to me and I said no? ... Inga, you've got guts. You can do it." - Mark

Well?

Diversity Yay!

          A brief, frantic search for my keys this morning ended with me discovering them in the largest pocket of my backpack. I hate the feeling of missing keys. At my desk, I was dying from a lack of sleep, so it was nice to get out of the office to hunt for red paper for the covers on some appeal briefs in the SJC. This quickly turned into a total shit show, as Staples only carries 500-sheet packages and we need like 12 sheets. We also had Staples make several copies of an 11-page document and they somehow missed page 9, which meant I had to do it, not to mention me having to fix the last two pages after the fact anyway, meaning that we basically paid full price for functionally 8/11 of a series of copies. Aside: There's a mystifying law office down the hall where the lights are always on, but the place is always empty, including the secretary's desk. It's pretty spooky.
          After work, Iris invited me over and tricked me into falling asleep, thereafter essentially using me as an oversized teddy bear. Upon waking, I was rewarded with ravioli and some ambiguously brown blondies (or blonde brownies; I couldn't tell.) I'm proud to live in a nation where brownies and blondies can procreate without fear of discrimination. Having slept for seven hours, I spent the rest of the night doing chores, decorating, and fooling around with Alaric and his new horse mask.
          Quote of the day:
"Andy, I hope you got your money out of the stock market." - Jeremy

Let's Enhance

          I dreamed that I helped Harrison, Jared and Claire put up a dock at one's grandfather's lake, wrestling those big floating pieces into the water and getting dirty. We picked old tallboy beer cans out of the muddy water, burned up old tree stumps, and bragged about NYSSMA scores between ourselves, all in that perpetual sunset light that is so common in autumn. I woke up and busied my mind elsewhere, trying to reconcile my attempt at a newly zen outlook with my loathing for many aspects of today's America. Work was one of those days. We're dealing with an attorney whose assistant calls for him and then informs us that "Attorney [redacted] would like to speak with you." What is this guy, a senator? In the afternoon, I went to the BMC, where I was bluntly informed that we needed to file a continuance instead of a motion to continue, for indeterminate reasons. I then went to the wrong courthouse (the trial court instead of the Supreme Judicial Court) and thoroughly embarrassed myself in front of a clerk, who was admirably restrained despite the fact that he was dealing with an obvious moron. When I reached the proper courthouse, I went to a desk and was promptly rebuffed and told to travel down the hall; when I got to that desk, our question was dealt with in about two seconds. Wasted time: roughly thirty minutes. Aside: The trial court is decorated in a wildly outdated Art Deco style, which is sort of appealing in the way that only fading Art Deco can be. On the other hand, the John Adams Courthouse, where the SJC makes its bed, is a huge, arching edifice of ornate marble and granite. In my estimation, these are beautiful old fashions that never really got old. Still different is the BMC's aforementioned Edward W. Brooke courthouse, which is marbled as well, but much more stark, modern, and unadorned.
          I don't know how I didn't notice before, but fall is in the air. The air is cool and crisp with the scent of autumn in Boston, and fallen leaves are already everywhere. I guess I've been more or less sleepwalking through the last few months. I'm 76% certain that I saw a pimp on the T, a tall gentleman in a white trench coat, white fedora, and white leather shoes, all spotless and shiny. After a Power Nap (caps required) at home, Sean and I went to get haircuts and both came out looking spiffy. We finally got around to renaming our wifi network to "Let's Enhance" (password: "upload_the_virus.txt" + 1 typo which I will not divulge here) and I got through lots of cleaning, laundry, organizing, etc. There was a fun moment where I realized something important while cleaning the bathroom, stood up quickly and bashed my head on a cabinet, so what everyone in the living room heard was, "Oh fuck!" *BANG*. We closed out the evening with a viewing of the Val Kilmer-iffic Batman Forever, which is completely saved by Jim Carrey's performance as the Riddler.
          Quotes of the day:
"I wanna be a dinosaur when I grow up." - Iris
"What is this, top secret or something? You can transfer me to her but you cant give me her number?" - Lisa
"It's like I'm getting a call from the President or something." - Jeremy
"Ahh, I remember you because of that damn wallet!" - a guard at the trial court
"I have knife hands! Knife hands, knife hands! Raaaaaahhhhh!" - Sean

Some Nights

          I lurched out of bed at 10 a.m. to get home, get changed, and get to rehearsal, all in the rain. On the way over to Cabot, I strode through a puddle in the Columbus lot that was about three times as deep as it looked, which sucked for the rest of the day. The rehearsal itself was all right; we played some new material ("Some Nights," "Runaway Baby," and the maddening "50 Ways To Say Goodbye") while JL was cutting up to an unusual extent. In the evening, Sean, Katie, Iris and I went on a banter-filled double date to Zinneken's in Cambridge, where I ate a tried-and-true Gourmand waffle. Everyone else seemed satisfied as well, though the presentation was less fancy this time around; instead of metal plates, the waffles were served in red and white paper bowls of the type one might find at a little league concession stand. The couples parted ways, and Iris and I walked to meet Cristina at Bertucci's, which Iris consistently claims is an amazing Italian chain. As it happens, it was pretty delicious. I enjoyed a large, tasty dish of lobster ravioli and some quality conversation with the girls, and the evening was quite fun overall.
          Quotes of the day:
"They're hot licks arranged rhythmically, and then people go, 'Uh!' That's a good sound." - JL, on "Tear the Roof Off the Sucker (Give Up the Funk)"
"Actually, I think the words in measures 6 and 7 are 'yeah'." - JL
"If it ain't got that swing, it don't mean a thing." - JL
"That's definitely a 'I'm wielding a weapon of death' moment." - JL

Swagfinder General

          I slept through the afternoon women's hockey game to recuperate from this week, but I did attend the men's game versus Canadian team Dalhousie, who were summarily doghoused in an embarrassing 5-0 shutout. To celebrate this improbable event, I joined Peter, Jared, Claire, and Andrew in becoming monstrously drunk at Peter's dorm on St Stephen Street. Afterward, I traveled to Iris's place, where she passed off all manner of free swag she had obtained from Tastemakers and other random giveaways on to me.

Chief Unexpected

          I went to court with Jeremy this morning, and we waited for several minutes while a babe of a lawyer made about ten motions in various cases before a regal judge who reminded me of Sam's mother. Jeremy then introduced me to the judge and made a slam dunk of a motion (it was very procedural and the whole thing took about two minutes, so it was kind of silly) and we met with the other lawyer, who turned out to be one of Jeremy's past assistants. We then returned to the office, where I listened to the office girls talk about The Proposal and dealt with the worst paper jam ever. My sleep skills are ungodly, I only napped for a few hours yesterday and drank no coffee today, but remained awake until the end of my shift. On the walk home, I struggled valiantly not to slip on the wet brick with my zero-traction dress shoes.
          My deck of tarot cards arrived today, which clocks Amazon at three days instead of the six to eight days expected for shipping; they are as cool as I expected. I attended a women's hockey game against Syracuse, which ended in a disastrous 4-1 loss, but at least we don't live in Syracuse. Afterward, we put on Batman Begins to ease the suffering and were joined by Tori, a reticent saxophone named Lizandro, Sara F, Nathan, Peter, and Iris. Later, Alaric and I went on a cigar walk down Northampton Street, during which we spotted eight police vehicles at the Crime Bar and came across the super-ominous Northampton Square Medical Building.
          Quotes of the day:
"6 girls, 1 puck." - Nathaniel
"He slept like a fucking corpse." - Alaric, on Scott

Hit the Dusty Trail

          Wonderful college band name: Dog Shaped Dog. Also, this blog suddenly had 21 views from the Ukraine; I wonder if I inadvertently used some keyword that's popular there. I digress. Despite not having slept a wink, I was strangely not overtired for most of the day, which was weird. While running errands, I stopped by the public piano near City Hall, where a pianist and trumpet player were making sweet music. An old man also stepped up to play the Caisson Song, which made me happy inside. After work, I went to Iris's place, where she treated me with lasagna, squash, and a nap.

Candy Man

          Neither my alarm nor Iris's woke either of us up in time and I was a few minutes late, but Jeremy was cool about it. We got about 20 calls from or pertaining to Jim, our favorite John Candy lookalike, and by the end of the day I was quite sick of dealing with the case. I took a nap after work and awoke to Iris calling me to inform me that baked goods were available, at which point I headed directly over to WVC to obtain them. I bumped into Professor Urman on the way over the tracks, which is always nice because he still recognizes me; I've been considering getting back in touch with him or Professor Lovely to look into references or possible research work. I returned with the bounty, had an intense murder mystery game mechanic brainstorming session with Alaric and Sean (we're throwing a party on Friday, November 1, the night after Halloween) and stayed up all night.

K1774 CR0C

          Jeremy was out of the office all day today, which seems inevitably to lead to a shortage of productivity on my part. Not much happened at work, and I went to Iris's after my shift was done. In the evening, Sean, Katie, Alaric, Haley, Iris and I abandoned last night's clix game in favor of a new, 6-team free-for-all. Alaric deployed an X-Men team and Iris rolled out a Batman Ally lineup; Katie, Sean and Haley all used characteristically random matchups, while I abandoned the swarm tactic in favor of two powerhouses (Joker and Killer Croc.) The former has proven his worth time and time again; in his debut appearance in play, the latter has proven to be utterly broken, reaching and destroying Sean's most powerful piece (Damian Wayne as Batman) within the first 5 turns or so. Alaric also scored a monstrous hit on Haley's team with Gambit, immediately more or less neutralizing her ability to threaten other players. The fur was flying for a couple of hours before we noted that it was a Tuesday and sleep was probably a good idea.
          Quotes of the day:
"Wow, don't I feel like a flamethrower-ball-of-something-fiery." - Iris
"Peanuts to butthole action." - Iris

Sighted in Bank of America. "Part ATM. Part Teller. Totally a cyborg."