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August 06, 2003

Sigh of Relief

Since last Thursday, I’ve just been in an odd semi-vacuous mental state, not to be compared to my normal spacey state. After completing all the horrific Calculus II, geometry, and education classes of the summer, I had absolutely no real desire to write, compute anything mathematical, or even ponder education. I’ve even refused to precisely calculate tips at restaurants.

Beer drinking has been an extremely large focus for the last few days. Most nights I’ve been out with friends, having some amazing nights just laughing and carousing. No drinking during the day, although I was vaguely tempted on Monday. My ceiling finally collapsed from the leaks in the plumbing from the ceiling above our loft, spewing forth all sorts of nasty gunk into our apartment. This happened a few weeks ago, but our landlord is about as generous as the Grinch. It took a threat about calling the health department to finally get the leaks fixed, and we still have a rotted ceiling and floor. When my foot went through the floor that afternoon, I thought a beer might be in order, but I opted instead to figure out a way of making the path safer for when I wasn’t sober.
Normally I’m not a huge meat eater. Since Thursday, almost every meal involved some sort of meat. I had an amazing filet mignon at Soho Steak House, wrapped Peruvian chicken thingies in Williamsburg, bacon at Life, and sausage every damned day for breakfast. Screw oatmeal, I want some fat! I could never give up meat entirely. I haven’t read Fast Food Nation, but I know personally what goes on in the beef industry. I could get on my soapbox about how Americans created the beef industry monster by demanding hamburgers that don’t cost more than 50 cents, but my blogs have been too preachy lately. Too many other bloggers write about politics better, and I enjoy writing about shiny objects.

Back to that super tasty filet mignon. Being from a cattle-owning family and working in a steakhouse, I’m quite judgmental about my steaks. This place did it right, juicy, tender, and flavorful. I like my steaks black and blue, flash grilled, rare-medium rare. If I were vegetarian, this steak would be the focus of my meat dreams. If I stayed vegetarian long enough, the dreams would probably develop into elaborate fantasies of taking down the cow in a lupine way, cutting it up, and having a Flintstone steak that tilts a car. It is probably best that I remain an occasional meat eater, encouraging restaurants to buy ethically slaughtered beef. Also, if I were a vegetarian, I would have to be a closeted bacon junkie. As one of my veg friends said, bacon is the gateway drug. Normally I don’t have it, but if I couldn’t have any meat, I would smell bacon somewhere and go insane. I can usually avoid it currently, as I have healthier substitutes, like Krispy Kreme. Should I mention that I also bought a dozen donuts, missing the July featured donut of the month Key Lime Pie by only a day? They still had the July featured donut posters hanging on the walls, mocking me. When I asked if there was some new featured donut for August, they told me they didn’t have one yet. Get cracking, boys! Papa needs some sugar!

This weekend I might be heading down to Rehoboth for a beach holiday with roommate Michael. He has a friend living there, and we can stay at his place. I’m not sure if the weather will cooperate, but I think I’m willing to take the chance. The last hellish burn has already peeled away, leaving only a dull memory of scorched skin. I want some more naturally synthesized vitamin D, please. If it works out, I will be appropriately protected with some serious sunblock, lounging about all day. I’ll finish trashy novels like One Hundred Years of Solitude, the Kafka stories, and maybe take up making crude sand objects.

Here’s a funny joke- my really cool uncle and aunt just moved to NYC from Houston. When I found out they were moving here, I was quite excited, as they are probably the only relatives I would like to have in relative proximity. That double meaning of ‘relative proximity’ really applies to my family. My uncle’s humor is so subtly dry he makes the Arizona desert look moist, and my aunt has such a caring sincerity that I would love to emulate. They had a request of me. “Would you mind terribly being flown down to Houston and get paid to drive a sweet Mercedes back to NYC? We know how much you hate having an amazing road trip, visiting friends, and exploring America, but would you do this for us?” Of course, I am such a good martyr, so how could I refuse such a terrible onus? My whole family knows how I’ll suffer for love, and nobody was home when I scampered around in circles when I got the e-ticket. I’ll pick up the keys, sigh a lot, and then do some air guitar solo down Lexington Avenue.

I leave the 15th to Houston, then I’ll drive to Austin, then Clovis, then Lubbock, then Dallas, then take the northern route back to NYC. I’m still looking for passengers, so if anyone is interested, email me. Not to brag, but my new iPod holds around 2000 songs, most of them crap. Think of how magical that could be!

Posted by G at August 6, 2003 06:24 PM

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Comments

Posted by: Lee at August 7, 2003 04:58 AM

Posted by: Brian Nesbitt at August 7, 2003 12:09 PM

Posted by: COACH at August 11, 2003 06:18 PM