(Sorry about the lack of postage Thursday, but I didn't have cable access until the nice gentleman hooked it up this morning.)
The move went as well as could be expected Monday; I just need to pick up a few items to make it more livable. Nothing like cooking an entire chicken sausage in the oven and then realizing you don’t have any oven mitts. I won’t lie – there’s been blistering.
Thanks to Mitch for helping me. What a true, special friend he is. And handsome, too.
Here are some key lines from the move:
“I’m going to park in the street. If they honk at me, somebody’s getting cut.” - Matt
“(while lifting a desk up stairs) Watch out, it will go in your face… that’s what she said. (That’s not even funny but we laughed for 1.5 minutes. Oh, thank you comic relief.) - Matt
“Your neighbors are (freaking) weird.” – Mitch
“I’m going to have to boil this couch.” - Matt
“Just leave the van door open. If somebody steals it we won’t have to carry it in.” – Matt
“Goodbye security deposit. (There was some damage to the hallway leading up to my place. But I’m hoping that will be deemed a neutral area and I can blame it on my neighbor.)” – Mitch
“(while trying to maneuver my couch up a narrow stair case) This could not be going worse.” – Matt
Mitch: You’re living in the Aurora?
Matt: No, it’s called the Apollo.
Mitch: It says “Aurora” right above the building.
Matt: No, it’s the Apollo.
Mitch: Are you sure?
Matt: I know where I live, dude.
Mitch: OK
Matt: Why does it say “Aurora” over the door, though?
Mitch: That’s what I’m saying.
Matt: They told me it was the Apollo… lies.
Actually, I’m sure Mitch had more quality comments but I just wasn’t paying that close of attention, since this was mostly about me.
And then Tuesday night I became aware of the world of Costco. First of all, I think if you just bought gas there it would more than make up for the cost of membership. It’s quite a deal. Only problem is I have a very small kitchen and no storage space. Fortunately I’m a fast eater. Still, you have to love a place that allows you to buy meat, beer, a couch and a trampoline all in one visit. It’s beautiful.
We're going to start a new monthly series here on K & S where we celebrate laughter by featuring some of my favorite stand-up comedians. Since the main point of my blog is to act as some kind of humorist, I'd like to use this segment to celebrate the artform of comedy and mainly to guarantee both of my readers get at least one laugh each month. Let's face it, life blows at least half of the time so some days laughter is all we have. This is also the part of the month where I try not to make this blog about me in an effort to surrender my ego (although telling you that is probably drawing more attention to me, which is counter-productive. It would probably be better just to not mention me at all. So yeah, just disregard this whole diatribe about myself). It's all very Buddhist in nature and I'm told this should cleanse me in some way. Yet I still feel dirty. So very, very dirty.
Anyhow, today we're featuring one of my favorite guys going right now, Zach Galifianakis. You might have seen him in the movie "Out Cold," and... um... quite possibly some other stuff. So without further ado:
On Conan
Give it time, this gets funny in the second half
Versus a reality show heckler (BEWARE: vulgar language)
Stay tuned for the September segment, where we'll feature the stylish, stoned out one-liners of the late, great Mitch Hedberg.
Just got back from Friday's poker night. I got stopped at a sobriety checkpoint. According to Hamilton County Deputy (I wanna say) Spulchik, I was OK to drive. Anyway, I saw some cats driving around in Noblesville without their shirts on. I wrote a song about them on the way back. Here are the lyrics:
"I've got crazy facial hair
I'm in Noblesville
My name's Jeremy
And I'm not wearing a shiiiiiiiiiiiiirt"
Lots going on, beautiful readers, lots going on. On Monday I’m moving to an apartment in downtown Indianapolis. The building was built around 1919 so I’m hoping to have a constant buzz going from the mold and asbestos. “Ahhhh, breathe it in. It’s sort of like Brill Cream mixed with the souls of dead mice.” That’s what I’ll say; that’s what I’ll say to my guests.
So here’s the issue: My cable isn’t getting set up until next Saturday morning. They wanted to tell me they’d come on Wednesday between 11 a.m. and 7 p.m. or something, but I’m like, “Yeah, um, I have a job, soooooo…” I have a feeling I’ll just be sitting around this week watching DVDs, working out on my Gazelle Edge thereby effectively toning my glutes and thighs, and learning to play new songs on my guitar. I’ve been really into the alt country scene lately, so I might try to learn some Ryan Adams (not Bryan Adams, people) or something. His new album, Easy Tiger, is a great listen and reminds me a bit of Neil Young. Adams seems to use many different voices and registers throughout his catalog. They tend to change depending on the mood or even genre of the song itself. It’s almost schizophrenic in a way, which I suppose I can relate to. And so can I. I might also try to get some bluegrass or Emmylou Harris going, as I think she’s the bee’s knees.
I’ll have help moving from Mitch and Tim. I was going to get them a meal or something for helping that night but I don’t think we’ll have time. I will, however, be living a block away from a liquor store so we may have to settle on Guinness for dinner - a fun and healthy snack I've been enjoying since I was a tot.
My interior’s going to be rather hodge podgie. It’s sort of hard to create a constant theme around a Bruce Springsteen TIME magazine cover, tie-dyed Bob Marley tapestry, Colts Super Bowl Championship poster and old Jell-O ads from the 1950s. But that’s what I’m working with here. Frank Lloyd Wright I'm not. (I realize he's an architect and not an interior designer, but I didn't know the names of any famous interior designers, so back off.)
CELEBRATE LAUGHTER: Brace yourselves for a new monthly feature I’ll be debuting on Tuesday, where we see clips from my favorite comedians. I won’t say who I’ll be featuring in the first post, but get ready for hilarity. HINT: He has a Jesus beard. OK, no more, I’ve said too much…
This kid is sick (that's street slang for "outstanding"): New Manchester United recruit Rhain Davis, 9 years old
My issue is, where the hell was YouTube when I was balling in the Whitestown, Indiana Little League? WhenMitch and I were tearing up North Salem and Lizton as the 1 & 2 hitters while donning the American Legion Post 410 jersey, nobody could broadcast our achievements on the Infernets. Now, this little British kid gets signed by Manchester United before he's even off of breast milk. Oh well, I'm pretty happy with my life now so I guess I won't complain. I'm definitely not going to hate on the kid - good for him, he'll be dating Spice Girls' daughters in no time. Just don't knock her up, dude: Woopsy Doodle
I also think it's cool that his name is Rhain and he's not destined to become a stripper in Shelbyville. Rhain is a cool name and shouldn't be relegated to only being sported by people who wear unholy amounts of Aqua Net.
So Saturday I went to see the Counting Crows/Live/Collective Soul show. Here are a few certainties I gleaned from the experience:
1. Live is a great band.
2. Counting Crows is a pretty good band.
3. Collective Soul is still making music.
4. I don't care for people - not at all.
We were down on the field for Live, which I enjoyed. However, they didn't play "Pillar of Davidson," even though I specifically requested it on my blog. Questionable. The set was short but rocked.
We went up in the cheap seats for Counting Crows because we were tired of the idiots down on the field and didn't care that much. Guess what, there were idiots in the stands, too. Some 45-year-old lady stood up behind us during one song to shake her excessive booty. She then tapped me on the back to get me to dance. Here's the conversation verbatim.
Lady: (Backslap) You need to dance, dude.
Me: I'm fine. Don't touch me.
In brighter news, a drunk girl told me she liked my hat and pink shirt. My shirt wasn't pink, but I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
To give you a feel for the crowd, here are Timmy's observations:
"If I hear one more double negative, I'm gonna kill somebody" and "Our country's in trouble."
I don't know what it is about American society that dictates when you go out to a public venue, you have to treat it like a NASCAR race and act like a drunken ass. I guess it was probably worse since I was the designated driver so I couldn't partake, but dang. I'm sort of wondering how many of their kids some of these people had to sell to get the $50 for the tickets.
In closing, I'd just say that I enjoyed the music and that was a plus, but for the most part the collective indictment of society was rather alarming. I fear you're right, Timmy. Our country IS in trouble and may be on the verge of a meltdown or idiocy-induced 'splosion. On the upside, at least we can go out listening to "Lightning Crashes."
Exciting times are ahead. Today I’m off to the Counting Crows/Live/Collective Soul concert at Victory Field in downtown Indy. If there’s a heaven on earth, I bet it features 1990s bands rocking out in a minor league baseball stadium. Outstanding.
My friend who’s a DJ at 99.5 FM told me a while back that he heard the Gin Blossoms would also be there, but I fear time has proven him to be a filthy liar. Even so, word on the street is these concerts have gone on for 4.5 hours so I’ll need to bring my fanny pack full of water and possibly good cheer. Yeah, I’m kidding, I’ve never worn a fanny pack. Maybe I should; maybe that could be my thing. I’ll carry really obscure items in it like tweezers and 1997 Topps baseball cards. So then when people ask me for something practical like gum or something, I’ll give them a really put-off look and be like, “Um, nooooo, I’m only carrying sporks and jelly bracelets today, thank you very much.”
The seating for this concert is first-come first-served, I believe. So it would behoove us to get there early so we can sit in the field near the stage. I want to be close enough to see the mice in Adam Duritz’s dreadlocks.
We’re hitting Weber Grill with some gals beforehand, but with my freakish hunger I’m betting I’ll be dying for a ballpark hotdog by “I Alone.” I really hope Live plays “Pillar of Davidson” (now with David Duchovny thanks to YouTube!) from Throwing Copper. That song has some odd lyrics but it’s quite remarkable, in this reporter’s opinion. Here’s the chorus as I know it:
"Old, bad eyes
Old, bad eyes
Old, bad eyes, almighty fear
The shepherd won't leave me alone
He's in my face and I
The shepherd of my days
And I want you here by my heart and my head,
I can starve till I'm dead"
Hey whatever man, it works. I think I read it’s about a Harley Davidson motorcycle factory in their hometown and how people had to be slaves for the Man. Either that or it’s an introspective piece written from the perspective of a blind sheep. I don’t know, maybe I’ll ask a roadie about that one. Anyway, should be some good times.
I visited downtown Indy’s new tapas bar, Barcelona, on Tuesday. I must admit, I’d never heard of the word “tapas” before I went – we ain’t got them fancy places in Boone County. So when I heard people say this, I thought they were saying “topless bar.” In that sense, I guess I was obviously disappointed.
Basically the way it works is your entire group orders about 2 dishes each and everybody shares. Being an only child, I’m normally not one to share food, so I was mildly tempted to slap people’s hands away and yell “Mine!” or "No!" or "You wanna get cut, gringo? 'Cause I'll cutcha!" I refrained, however.
The food tastes great, but it’s quite expensive. If I ever meet anybody worth dating, I’ll probably take them there for the atmosphere and the intimacy of (sigh) sharing food. However, I just didn’t get full. Being a Spain-themed venue, I think they understandably serve European-sized portions. That’s probably ideal for the abundance of obese Hoosiers, but what about cats like me who exercise frequently and deserve to be fed like a lumberjack when I go out?
All told, I’ll give Barcelona a 3.7 out of 5 stars for delightful dishes and attractive waitresses (sadly wearing shirts). Again, I’d recommend it for a date, but if you’re looking to get your grub on, I’d stick with Qdoba (or if you're dating someone really cool, just take her there in the first place).
