Early Memories

I only have three memories from kindergarten.

During naptime at the end of the day, I could never sleep. This cute girl, Sarah, was in the cot in front of me, and she couldn’t sleep either. So, very quietly, we’d pass one of my Hotwheels cars back and forth.

My teacher went obsessive-compulsive one day. The toilet paper didn’t seem to have any perforations, so she went through half of the roll, one “sheet” at a time, before she finally gave up. This also happened during naptime; Sarah and I passed the car to each other and watched Mrs. B. flip out while everyone else slept.

One day, another class had made this mini-volcano thing. They had the whole kindergarten class gather around this two-foot-tall clay mountain rigged with baking soda, vinegar, and some sparklers. When the bubbles started flowing, all I could see in my head was a real volcano in Hawaii wiping out houses, palm trees and…people. I could see people dying, burning to death, melting from the lava. I remember that the sky was a reddish orange haze, and I was so horrified that I started to cry. One of the teachers escorted me from the room, and I just couldn’t stop. My tears were flowing as fast as the “lava.” She asked me what was wrong, but I couldn’t find the words to tell her. I couldn’t make any sense of what I imagined. I still can’t. Can ANYONE explain how a five-year-old kid who knows absolutely NOTHING about the world outside his own backyard imagine such a terrifying image?

Lame-ass joke.

For those of you not paying attention, I work at a print shop. Printing is the ass-end of design; we produce the final product. (Note: distribution would be...flushing.)

On a particularly slow day, I put on some jazz. Jack, one of my co-workers (who has since left for greener pastures) had asked what album was playing.

"Kind of Blue by Miles Davis."

"Oh? What kind of blue is it, greenish blue?" Jack is a smart-ass of high caliber.

"More like...Pantone 281."

We both groaned, then laughed at how awful that was.

"Only a designer would find that funny."

The Tribulations of Transportation

(I'm not usually a fan of alliteration.)

I boarded the N train this afternoon to get to work. In the car was an orgy of teenage snogging and dry humping.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I thought to myself.

"Of course it's for fuck's sake. Why else would anyone be dry humping?" I chided myself.

Thanks for reminding me how lonely I was at that age, and how lonely I still am.

By the time I opened up the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, they all had the decency to disappear.

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The bi-weekly train service fuckup also happened today. I have to switch at Times Square to the downtown 1 train to get to the office. Once I got to Times Square, there were no local downtown trains on the red line. I took the 2 express down to Chambers street to catch the uptown local. And once I got there, the downtown locals had started up again. Thanks for wasting another half-hour of my day, MTA. Just once, I'd like to be the 'Rick James' to their 'Eddie Murphy's couch.'

Without the reprisal of getting my legs beaten by Eddie & Charlie, that is.

Zing!

Gennessee, another high school classmate, has contacted me through Myspace (they're coming out of the woodwork!). In our conversation, she reminded me of one of her ex-boyfriends.

In my senior year of high school, I had begun to come out of my shell (something I'm still 2/3 in). I'm not exactly the smartest person in the world, and I'm horrible at thinking on my feet. But somehow, I managed to get a good line in occasionally.

In Mr. Wagner's first period economics class, we usually didn't have much to cover. Half of the time was a free-for-all study hall. Conversations erupted. Kris, a guy I went to the Vo-Tec school with (and occasional bully/class clown), went on about how quickly he could reassemble a carburetor. Lisa was listening in and provided the perfect setup:

"Gee, Kris, it sounds like you got a lot of time on your hands."

I took the bait:

"More like all over his hands."

Yeah, nothing beats a masturbation joke first thing in the morning. Mr. Wagner buried his face in his hands, trying not to show how red his face got with laughter. The rest of the class went "Oohhh!" Seated behind me, my friend & fellow smart ass Jennifer slapped me in the back of the head. I turned around, puzzled, and asked her "what did you do that for?"

"I was going to say that!"

This all sent Kris into a fit of rage. I've unfortunately forgotten his responses, but they were even better setups. Each time he opened his mouth, I responded with more quips. He got so pissed, he had to leave the room to cool off. Kris was frothing at the mouth. I left him alone for the rest of the day. I didn't want to break the camel's back.

Why?

May Nixzmary Brown rest in peace.

Best Man? Me? REALLY?

Okay, Carlos, I'll do what I can. Unfortunately, the Playboy Mansion is booked solid until nine years after Hef kicks it.

(I checked. The seven Bunnies he sleeps with have it all planned out.)

(Yep, still a little shocked, still very honored.)

Bork Bork Bork!

I'd like to thank Firefox for being open source, and Anthony C. Howe for sharing his masterwork with all of us.

He created a Firefox extension that turns all the text into the Swedish Chef's language. Yes, it may be a waste of time, but DAMN, it's a funny one.

Bork bork bork!

"Can I be your friend?"

When I was a young lad, I thought hamsters were adorable. My fifth grade class had one, that eventually gave birth to about 20 little runts. Most of them died within a day. I really wanted one, and eventually got one for Christmas. The first one lasted nearly ten weeks. I was heartbroken when it died, for no reason that I could think of. I woke up one day, and seemed sick. I held a vigil until it died later that night. The second one survived for a month. The third lived three weeks.

One of my classmates, Jim, also had a hamster. It had a few runts, and he asked if I wanted it. As a glutton for punishment, I said "yes!" I don't remember if I named it or not; he only lived a week. I watched it all day, its second and final Saturday of the summer. He just laid there, belly up, gasping for air for hours. He felt so cold.

Jim was friends with John & Jamie, the guys on my shit list. Most of the time, I thought of Jim as a close personal acquaintance. The four of us hung out anyway, because we had nothing better to do. He was pretty smart, but kind of a dick. I remember in 5th grade, he wrote a computer program, and used tons of class time to input the code into the computer. I don't recall if he ever finished it.

A couple of years later in junior high, one of the class topics turned to pets. I had had cats, dogs, and of course, hamsters; all of them dead. Jim had the brilliant idea to make an announcement that only a few of us in the room could hear.

"I know why your hamsters died, Jeff; you fucked them to death!"

It was that moment I realized I won't ever give a flying fuck about him, other than being a fellow sentient being.

I became very puzzled today, when I received a "friend request" from him on Myspace. He's in Hawaii, which is where Lynne is right now, visiting her family. Honestly, I wish I was there, too. It's freaking HAWAII! Duh! NYC: cold & grey. Tropical islands: warm & vibrant.

I had an extremely horrible, assholish remark in response to Jim's request, one that probably would have sent him into a state of anger I can barely imagine. I'm ashamed to have even thought of it. I'll leave it at that.

No, Jim, I don't think so. We're not going to be "pals" or "iBuddies" or whatever.

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Another interesting thing about Myspace is finding an old bully. First, I'm shocked that the troglodyte can even use a computer. Second, I'm relieved that he's still a massive waste of space.

NOW they tell me.

Remember about a month ago, when I was freaking out about my student loans?

I just got the letter telling me all about the other company's acquisition. I must have laughed, quite loudly, for 12 minutes as I looked over the letter.

Nice timing, jerk-asses!