Shave and a haircut, two fits

Life is funny in a bad way sometimes. You can frequently have bad days and then weeks and then months. So the bad days start to mean less, it stops being such a big deal, and you move through the mire that is your life. No big deal. But every once in awhile you have a really bad day, it upsets you and you don't think much else can go wrong. However, when something else goes wrong it becomes comical in a way that it shouldn't. It's like getting dumped by your girlfriend in the morning. Getting fired from your job in the afternoon. Then when you get to your car to go home, you realize that you've locked your keys in the car. At that point in the day you just kind of have to laugh, because this event that might normally change the nature of your day, has little or no impact on the severity of your day. Having your keys get locked inside your car is just superfluous to what made the rest of your day suck.

Case-in-point, yesterday I had a very unpleasant day, I'm not going to go into exactly why but needless to say I was pissed off. It sucked, royal smurfs (whatever the hell that means), and when I got out of work all I wanted to do was go to the gym, workout, and maybe do some yoga. Well as I was walking from work to the gym, contemplating all the things that had happened to foul my mood, I crossed the road and twisted my ankle on the curb or the sidewalk. It hurt, and mind you this is the same ankle I injured a couple of weeks ago and have been rehabbing ever since. Instead of being pissed off, I laughed, because up until that point my day had already been awful. The ankle just made it over the top ridiculous, and frankly it seemed like I was trapped in a Benny Hill rerun or something. So, still smiling ear to ear because of the absurdity of it all, I limped to the gym. When I got there yoga class was cancelled, and my workout was pretty awful to boot. Then I went home and Katy wouldn't come near me for some reason...great day.

Today was much of the same. My morning has been filled with folly and frustration. For relief I decided to get my hair cut. Getting my hair cut is one of the most stress relieving and relaxing things I can do. It's usually quite spiritual. Plus my hair was obnoxiously long at that point so I needed it done anyway. I'm going to take a little bit of time here to explain why getting my haircut is so nice. Getting my haircut is refreshing, regardless of the time of year, walking outside after one is an excellent feeling of freshness! While I'm getting my haircut there's not much to do but contemplate life. Sure you can make small talk with your barber but for the most part you have a solid 15 minutes where you can't squirm or do work, so you have to sit down and think. If you have a good barber you come out looking better than you did when you walked in, if your barber does a bad job wait a couple of weeks and next time find another barber.

Men usually stick with the same barber after they find one who they like. I am no exception to this even though for most of my life I have not had a consistent barber. The last two years I have settled on a barber and I'm quite happy with her service. Once a month I go in for a 15 minute hair cut and I give her $20 for a $14 haircut (which is kinda expensive for a haircut). She is a Vietnamese lesbian who owns the barber shop around the corner from work along with her partner who does women's nails. She does a wonderful job cutting my hair, and I really appreciate it. Also I don't have to explain to her how to cut my hair since she already knows.

Today however she was not in the barbershop when I got there, she was apparently at the doctor's office. I decided (foolishly) to get my hair cut anyway. Two minutes into it, I realized two things. First, that this was going to take forever, and second, that it was not going to be what I wanted. I suffered through one of the worst haircut experiences of my life. Here are some of the highlights:
1) My barber decided to answer her cellphone...twice...extending the length of the ordeal and increasing the angst which I felt. Don't fucking answer your cellphone while you are in the middle of playing with my hair!
2) Another guy who gets his haircut with my barber walked in, saw that she wasn't there, and told everyone that he would return, which is what I should have done. He gave me an understanding glance of sympathy.
3) I was not at ease at all during the process, which was part of the reason I went in there to begin with.

The end result, was me walking out of the barbershop after 45 minutes (3 times my normal haircut) with a masterpiece I could have created by myself at home and a wide smile on my face. Because honestly, why wouldn't something else bad happen today? This morning has been terrible, why wouldn't something that normally relieves stress end up poorly? I mean it's not like my boss would walk by and make fun of my haircut right? Oh wait...she absolutely would, and did. But it is funny because at this point my day was already pegged as bad, and the haircut didn't do anything to make it worse, it just made me laugh. If I walk downstairs and my bike is missing...that will be about par for the course.

The girl I love

There's a girl I love and I wanted to tell everyone about her. She is extremely beautiful and everyone tells her so. All the boys want to talk to her and go out with her whenever they meet her. She's smart and she's never afraid to tell people what is on her mind. She's a good listener and she is always attentive when you speak to her. She loves outdoor activities and we go on dates outside all the time. She like long walks in the park and hiking in the woods. She is also really understanding when I feel bad and I come home and need her affection. She doesn't mind when I have to work late, or go out without her and come home late, she is just glad that I came home to her. She is the kind of girl you want to introduce to your mother and everyone you know, because you know that everyone will think she's spectacular. She's always dressed to impress and she lights up whatever room she's in.

Her name is Katy and I wouldn't trade her for the world. Here's a couple of pictures of her, isn't she pretty?

Target and a weird dream

I went to Target last night to purchase various sundries and within moments after entering the store I noticed something was amiss. No they weren't having a paperclip sale, although I need some paperclips. No it was much more visually pleasing, the Target for some reason, was filled with attractive women. Not just one or two, but 15 or more. In the ten minutes I spent in Target I couldn't believe the number of attractive, un-attached (no wedding/engagement ring), well dressed women there were in the store. It was like someone had decided that it was necessary to tease me for some reason.

Now normally I would have just chalked it up to my desperation and loneliness. But my roomate was there with me and he noticed the same thing. It was hard not to notice, considering the store was filled with babes. At first I thought, "Wow this is great!" But quickly I realized that these women would want nothing to do with me, more then likely they would think it was weird that some random dude was hitting on them at the store. How would I even strike up a conversation at a Target? "Oh hey there, I see you have grapes in your cart, I like grapes, want to go on a date?" Maybe I'm just timid but having all these attractive women shopping with me was about as useful as the hammock in my back yard in the dead of winter. I wasn't going to talk to them, I wasn't going to interact, and the only thing that probably could happen would be them catching me staring at them, and them calling security. So I quickly got 1/3 of the three things I was looking for (thanks for nothing target), went to the register (where I was in line between two very attractive women), and left the store.

(INSERT STORY SEGWAY HERE)

When I finally fell asleep at 3:30ish, I had this crazy lucid dream. What's strange about that is that I rarely have such vivid dreams, and this one in particular was really long, and I didn't have that much time to sleep since I woke up at 5. What made the dream odd was the setting, which was some dilapidated 4 story house in a swampy area. Who was in the dream, which were many of my friends past and present and oddly my grandmother who I do not speak to (long story). The dream essentially was about me and a random selection of friends killing the owner of the house and his partner (in self defense) and then trying to hide the bodies. One of which we buried in a shallow grave in the backyard next to a fence around the house in the back left, and the other of which we threw over the fence right next to where the other dead body was. We had to hide the bodies because apparently we knew the police were coming and we were afraid they wouldn't believe that it was self defense.

The police arrived and found the bodies, which were very poorly hidden, and they proceeded to chase us around the house. While this occurred my grandmother walked up to the police and took the blame for the whole thing. Then I woke up...I'm not sure what the hell that all means, I'm not used to having lucid dreams of that nature. I'm not sure why I felt the need to blog about it. But what I am sure of, is that in my dreams I apparently need to learn how to hide corpses from the authorities better. Either that or I need to figure out how to talk to attractive women that are shopping at the same store as me and not come off as some creepy pervert. Although given that the last two sentences I just wrote included the words, "hide corpses, attractive women, creepy pervert," my guess would be that this might be one mystery that remains unresolved for me.

Fans

I've been an Eagles (professional football) fan for the majority of my life. I grew up watching the Eagles not because I lived in Philadelphia (I didn't), but because my father loved the Eagles, and so did my late grandfather. Therefore whenever I was watching football when I was young with my father figures it was always the Eagles. In many ways I'm a pretty typical Eagles fan, cynical, critical, sarcastic. Watch an Eagles game with me sometime, try it, you will see a completely different person, then you would if you were around me in any other setting. If the Eagles are winning I will bitch that they aren't winning enough, they could and should be winning by more and they look really terrible regardless of how much they are winning by. Also if they are winning it is possible at any minute for them to be losing, this is a thought vocalized quite frequently between my father and I when we watch the Eagles. If they are losing...well let's not talk about the kind of language I use but needless to say you won't hear it in your local knitting club. When they are losing I expound about how every player should be traded, the coach should be fired, and the owner ought to be taken out back and shot. These are things that are attributable to your stereotypical Eagles fan, and in my case I fit the stereotype pretty well.

The other day I was talking to someone and we got into what our favorite NFL team was. I said the Eagles and they replied, "No way, I never see you wear any Eagles stuff." This is where I differ from many of my fellow Eagles fans, whereas even the most casual of fans may own a jersey or have a closet full of green, I don't. I don't feel like spending a ton of money on shirts or jerseys, or zubaz pants. I will now list all the Eagles items I own and where I got them from.
1) Eagles Sweatshirt that doesn't fit(grey with green logo on front)- Given to me by my late grandfather as a christmas gift, I keep it for sentimental value and because I don't like closet space.
2) Eagles Visor (Green and snazzy)- Given to me Senior year by a boss when I worked in the sports equipment department at my Alma Mater, he had it because the Eagles practice there during the summer (I have lots of stories about working around the Eagles when I worked during the summer).
3) Eagles hat (White with green/black brim)- Given to me Junior year by a boss when I worked in the sports equipment department at my Alma Mater, he had it because the Eagles practice there during the summer.
4) Eagles Doormat that is hidden in my storage room in the basement- Given to me last christmas by one of my roomates who thought it was hilarious that I had no Eagles stuff.

It's just not my thing, and I don't like the negative reaction or unnecessary conversations or irrational spite you get from some people when you are out in public wearing something with your team logo on it. I see it all the time and it pisses me off when people are jerks just because someone is wearing an opposing team's apparel. Whether it is someone being rude, saying something inappropriate, or in rare cases, doing something physical just because of a stupid shirt. I don't think it makes me less of a fan, but I just don't feel like declaring to the world what sports team I enjoy rooting for(actually in the case of the Eagles it's less enjoy then endure, because they fucking suck). If you really want to see how much I support the Eagles, watch a game with me, don't get on my case because I don't have a Randall Cunningham throwback jersey on underneath my business suit. Plus I look stupid in green anyway.

Lonesome October

So there has been a book I've been looking for about 10 years. I read it when I was 13-15 and living in Florida. The book was about Victorian era monsters (Dracula, Frankenstein, Jack the Ripper, etc..) and their quest to compete and either open up a portal to allow the Elder Gods (Cthulu) back to earth. The book was told from the point view of Jack the Ripper's familiar, a dog named Snuff. I really enjoyed the book when I was younger, but right after I had finished reading it I lost the book and I was never able to remember the title. Apparently the book goblins felt that it was necessary to steal it, that or one of my family members got ahold of it, since my mother's side of the family is notorious for stealing books. A family pastime really, other families go camping together, my family steals books from one another and compiles them. For the last 10ish years I've been looking for this book on and off, never looking like I absolutely couldn't live without, but with renewed interest here and there.

Last week I went to a bookstore with my roomate, and we were perusing the fantasy section and I again looked in vain for the book. Well on our way out of the store I told my roomate about the book and he mentioned to me that I should search on the...wait for it...INTERNET. Well how fucking dumb did I feel, not doing a word search on Wikipedia or Google or Amazon. I mean it hadn't even entered my mind to look for it on the place I buy 90% of my books and search for things, a tool I use every godamn day. So we get home, and 5 minutes later I'm purchasing it online. "A Night in the Lonesome October" by Robert Zelazny was the title I've been searching for all this time and you would think with such a unique title I might have remembered this. But no.

So I got the book in the mail yesterday and it was quite a bit shorter then I remembered. Each chapter represents one night in October, and 5 nights in I was quite a bit disappointed from the expectations built up by my memories. This has been a pretty common occurrence, re-reading books I read when I was much younger and being disappointed. However, I kept reading it, hoping for the best. Well after I finished the book last night, I put it down quite contented. The book minus the first couple of chapters was everything I wanted it to be. Mysterious and clever, very abstract with lots of loose ends that tie together at the end. I'm glad I found the book again, I feel dumb that it took me so long to do so.

Manly and Tough

I got a new bike. It was a used new bike and it has a butterfly on the seat but it's still totally manly. Butterfiles are like pretty boys who have to keep fighting other bugs to prove they're really tough. They kick ass and look good doing it, just like me...just kidding. I currently don't do either of those things. Butterflies are the street tough fighters in the insect world. They're all about like getting in fights and doing hardcore man stuff. Which is why having one on my bike is totally manly and gruff...

Also, here is a picture of me from my vaction awhile back. As you can see I'm wearing bright colors and I look roughed up. Because like a butterfly, I'm tough that way. It's not a very good picture, because I took it by myself. Also, I just got done eating a huge meal and sitting in the sun all day. And I'm sad that we were done eating and there was no more food :(

Lost

Where am I? Where am I going? What was my goal, my plan, what was I thinking? Why are all my compasses broken, or confused, or unused? There's no map. If there was a map I think I would be suspicious of it. There shouldn't be a map, but it sure would make things easier. There's no clear path, no clarity, no road markers. But would I walk it or see it or follow directions if they were there? It all seems so easy, and yet so hard. Am I fighting the wind, or putting my sails in it's comforting embrace. What do I do, when do I do it, why should I do these things. Why so many questions? Why not more action, rather then reaction? What happened? How did I get here.