Dang it All
Trials and Travails of a 20-something
Tuesday, June 29, 2004

I refuse to spend my life worrying about what I eat. There is no pleasure worth forgoing just for an extra three years in the geriatric ward.
- John Mortimer

Music playing right now: Tone Loc - Wild Thing


I've never been the guy people come to in their moments of grief. When I see people crying the extent of my comforting is shuffling my feet and checking to make sure my shoelaces are still tied. The closest I get to commisserating is the occasional sympathetic "Fuck."

Dave and I delivered a 48" TV to a couple in an apartment today. The husband looked like a thin George Lucas, complete with beard and bushy-esque hair. The wife looked like she'd just been dipped in flour, her pallor could have been the inspiration for the yogurt-colored walls of every institutional building in the world. She directed our actions from her wheelchair, alternately gasping for breath and warning us not to knock over the plant ten feet away.

We finished setting up their set and were in the midst of explaining the remote to her husband, when the ghost-like wife broke in. "Happy Birthday George." She turned to us to explain. "His birthday's not until October, but I might not be around then."

Dave and I just kind of stood there. I think I might have let out a small "uh..." Perhaps judging by our lack of sympathy that we hadn't heard her, she repeated herself. "He doesn't have his birthday until October, but I'll probably be dead by then."

Dave and I continued to just stand there. I turned back to explaining the remote to George, both as an escape from the awkwardness and in hopes of a rescue from him. He let us know "she's losing a battle with cancer. Just not much we can do anymore." I started to give up on explaining picture-in-picture.

Dave and I started concentrating on leaving as quickly as possible. We put the picture frames back on top of the TV, hid the cords behind it, and started our closing speech. "Well, if you've got any more questions..."

Mrs. George, clearly relishing her role as purveyor of tension, broke in with her trump card. "I've lost nearly almost total control of my bladder." What amazed me was her complete blandness in this statement, as if it's a completely normal thing to confess to your deliverymen.

I finished up our parting repartee as fast as I could. "...just give us a call. We'll be happy to help in any way we can. Have a great day!"

Seriously, how is one supposed to respond to that?

Monday, June 28, 2004

Need a little something to let that special someone know how you feel? Why not try a raccoon penis bone? What other mammalian bone is quite so "strikingly handsome when boiled and pollished?" Only $3.50! Act fast though before that Valentine's Day rush starts.

Thursday, June 24, 2004

There is no sincerer love than the love of food.
- George Bernard Shaw

Music playing right now: Dynamite Hack - Boyz N The Hood


So I got this crazy idea in my head. I drink a lot of soda. Why just throw all those cans away? There must be something to do with them. Why not poke a hole through the bottom and string them into a beaded curtain? Granted, it will probably look really tacky, but I've got nothing better to do.

But a curtain made entirely of Pepsi and Welch's grape soda cans would just be boring. I needed some really interesting ones. Cans that would make people drop their pants in excitement. So I drafted Kelsey and we set off this morning on a hunt for spiffy cans. At first she was a little skeptical:



But she soon got into the spirit. We hit up all the ethnic grocery stores we could think of. Today I was the wooden spoon mixing the melting pot of Wichita. We found an Indian grocery where you can rent any of what looked to be 200 Bollywood movies. And an Asian Supermarket where we bought a can of "White Fungus with Pineapple" as a gift for my mother.


Kelsey shows off her "Sparkling Vimto Fruit Flavor Drink" to Crushy, beloved mascot of Crush.

When we got home we couldn't wait to tear into our lovely stash:


Kelsey doesn't look so sure about her Ginseng Creme.

After trying a Vimto or two and agreeing that Aloe Vera was never meant to be made into a soda, we took a much deserved breather. It seems the famed soda curtain is going to have to wait for now. At least until we can find someone who's a fan of "Banana Flavor Grass Jelly Drink". Maybe I should have a tasting party. Anybody up for it? How does Soya Bean soda and vodka sound?

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Want some fun on a Tuesday night? Go Karaoke-ing with a bunch of drunk comic book and star wars geeks. Nothing like a respectable daytime lawyer letting it all hang out and trying to recite every single line from Empire Strikes Back as fast as possible.

Monday, June 21, 2004

To insult someone we call him "bestial." For deliberate cruelty and nature, "human" might be the greater insult.
- Isaac Asimov

Music playing right now: Guster - Fa Fa (Never Be The Same Again)


Jogging at night can be a harrowing experience.

After doing a few perfunctory stretches which I'm sure did absolutely no good, I left my comfortable air-condioned house at about 12:20 tonight to prowl my neighborhood. I loped down empty streets lit only by haphazard streetlight glare and the warm nightlight aura of porchlights.

After ten minutes or so, after my heart had started to pound its way out of my ribcage, I had my first surprise. I was concentrating on puddlejumping at the time, making a half-hearted attempt to time my stride in order to avoid the tiny creeks trickling across the road from rain and sprinklers. While looking ahead for my next ford, I spied a peach-sized rock in the middle of the water. Being a simple man, I quickly devised a plan to amuse myself by seeing how far I could kick this stone. Even perhaps kick it all the way back to my house. As I neared, I made sure to land on my left foot about 3 feet in front of the rock. I drew my right shoe back in excited preparation. It swung forward with the speed of Beckham. Then the stone hopped.

I quickly tried to arrest the pendulum of my foot. I also pushed off the ground with my left foot. Crippled by my forward momentum, I barely managed an awkward flop over what I now saw was a fist-sized toad. As I jogged on, I breathed a thankful prayer that I hadn't kicked or stepped on it. The squishy-crunch (like stomping a bamboo rod filled with tapioca pudding) would have been awful. Five minutes later I met my next animal.

It's not unusual for me to meet a dog or two, gleefully escaped from the confine of their backyard prison. They bark a bit, and might even run with me for a minute or two before getting distracted by a tree or mailbox. So I wasn't too concerned when I saw one wandering through yards ahead of me. As I got closer however, I noticed that this was an extremely strange looking dog. The lack of light made it a bit hard to see and it was staying in shadows, but I could tell it had something wrong with it. I slowed a bit out of curiousity.

When I was about 30 feet away I ran underneath a tree and startled a covey of birds, which flew out in a flap of wings over the dog. The dog snorted. I slowed more. By now I could see it had no fur. And a fat snout. And cloven hooves.

There was a german shepherd sized pot-bellied pig wandering down Aberdeen Avenue.

It lumbered calmly right past me and continued on its way, presumably just huffed and puffed out of its home. It was time for me to turn around and jog back home before I ran into a kangaroo. Hopefully the porker makes it home as well before some person gets makes bacon out of it on their morning commute. Next time I go jogging I'm taking a camera with me.

Friday, June 18, 2004


Thursday, June 17, 2004

I tends to put life in perspective when a good friend tells you "I've only got a week left in chemo, then just waiting for that bone marrow transplant. And by the way, my dad died today too."

How does one respond to that? I chose lots of (what I hoped was) empathetic swearing. It didn't seem quite appropriate to counter with, "I burned my mouth on pizza yesterday."

Monday, June 14, 2004

What has four legs, whiskers, a tail, and flies?
A dead cat.

Music playing right now: The Herbaliser - Sensual Woman


I'm evil. Maniacal, twisted, and frighteningly lazy. I seem to be neglecting this blog with an unprecedented passion. It seems there is an inverse relationship between how interesting my life is and how much I write. The more interesting it gets, the less I write about it. I'm pretty sure that's kind of backwards. But for your perusing pleasure, and so I don't forget about all the fun I had 6 months from now, a recap of my last few days:

Two Thumbs Up
* Driving to KC with Kelsey and Jan, seeing the cricket cages at the Nelson, and buying some spiffy new shirts at Arizona Trading Co.
* Seeing Joseph prance around naked without his technicolor dreamcoat.
* Hanging at the Vagabond with my Jesus-looking brother. Buying amaretto sours for tasty chicas.
* Finding the Loudon Wainwright III cd I thought I'd lost forever perched right on top of a tower of other cds. I think the elves brought it back during the night.
* Getting They Might Be Giants tickets in the mail.

Middle Fingers Up
* Having a doctor tell me I'm going to die from skin cancer because of my sunburn.
* Getting four hours of sleep for three nights in a row.
* Spending the last three days of work sweeping out a 49,000 square foot warehouse just on the offchance that somebody wants to rent it.
* Having ABC cut off the end of my golf tournament during the three-way playoff just so they could air America's Funniest Home Videos.
* Finding that one of the new shirts I bought is way too small.
* Getting slapped by a big piece of insulation in the face as I ripped it off the wall.

Looking Forward To
* Seeing Unwed Sailor on Tuesday Night
* Going to Emporia this weekend to witness happy nuptials

I promise more updates in the future. maybe. we'll see. If I don't start having even more fun.

Wednesday, June 09, 2004

Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.
- Russel Baker

Music playing right now: Hot Hot Heat - Get In Or Get Out


I bore witness today to a reasonable excuse for suicide. I was sitting in the delivery van, waiting for a light to change and half-interestingly watching the traffic passing by in front of me. I glanced to my left and saw a dark green coupe heading toward the light. It had the white marker of a used car dealership on its windshield. "Low Mileage! Runs Great! $6500!" I did the same thing I always do in that situation. I tried to size it up and decide if I'd pay $6500 for it. I'd just decided no when the light went yellow.

The coupe (I'm still not sure what make it was) sped up to make it through the light just as a large white truck about the size of the largest denomination of U-Haul turned left, apparently confident that everybody was stopping at the signal. I looked on from my vantage point at the front of the intersection and kind of blandly thought to myself, "hmmm...this is going to be close." Two seconds later the car decimated its face on the side of the truck, the nose crumbling into itself and the headlight eyes shattering across three lanes of traffic. The truck rocked a bit and then rumbled on, before parking in a lot across the street from me.

I think I've watched too many action movies. I sat there in my van, cell phone next to me, legs working just fine, and did absolutely nothing. I thought, "wow. that was kind of cool." It wasn't until another driver got out and ran to check on the driver in the car that I realized this was actually happening. By the way, the guy was fine. Just a bit surprised.

I ended up sticking around for another twenty minutes until the paramedics and firefighters and cops all came and made the street into a rave with their lights. I wrote out my witness statement and left before I realized what had just happened. The front of the guy's car was totally gone. The car was totaled. Unfortunately, I never looked at the back, so I couldn't see if there was a dealer plate on it, but this guy had obviously either just bought the car or was taking it for a test drive. Whichever it was, I can't imagine what he's thinking now. Probably something that can't be said in front of the young children that read this.

Glad it wasn't me.

Monday, June 07, 2004

There is nothing wrong with going to bed with someone of your own sex. People should be very free with sex, they should draw the line at goats.
- Elton John

Music playing right now: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Get on Top


Stripping:Life::Tabasco Sauce:Grape Nuts

My TV-delivering compatriot at work supplements our meagre income by doing stripteases on the weekend. He always comes in Monday morning with an interesting satchel of quotes and stories harvested from his Saturday night. His problem this weekend? He just got a new girlfriend.

The girlfriend assured him that she had no problem with his stripping occupation. In fact, she says, it would be a turn on to watch him show off to other girls. I had my suspicions. He came in this morning and informed me that it took a whole fifteen minutes before she gathered up her coat, finished her drink, and corralled her friends out the door. My favorite part of the story?

"I don't know what her problem was. The worst thing I did was grab a dollar bill from between a girl's tits with my teeth. I didn't even use my tongue like normal."

My thoughts ran something along the eloquent lines of "Duh!"

It's always a bit strange hearing him relate his weekend adventures. He comes in and tells me that he was offered a threesome with a 22 year old daughter and her "bangin'" step-mother. I think back to my weekend and tell him that I got to go see the new Harry Potter movie. Then there's an awkward pause where we both realize how different our lives are and I momentarily wonder why I don't have more threesomes with mother-daughter couples. Then I remember I do have a few morals left. And I don't really want syphillis quite yet.

It's the simple activities of life that I really appreciate. I don't need freaky-weird sex acts to satiate me (at least not every night). The laugh of a child, reading a good book on a rainy afternoon, a tall chilled glass of lemonade after an afternoon of frisbee, slowly inserting a lubed cucumber into my ass: These are the only things I really need.

Well...maybe not the child's laugh. I could do without that one.

Thursday, June 03, 2004

In the end, everything is a gag.
- Charlie Chaplin

Music playing right now: I'm not telling because I'm embarassed to be listening to it.


The AIM-9X sidewinder missile is a destructive force to be reckoned with. Capable of delivering 25 pounds of high explosive at speeds of Mach 2.5 and equipped with heatseeking or optical capabilities, this piece of flying whoopass could be yours for only $84,000. And if by chance you happened to fire one anywhere near wichita in the next few hours, the sheer heat of my body would draw it in like an emo kid to a cardigan shop.

My chest, arms, legs, feet, and pretty much any part of my anatomy that my clingy wet swimsuit does not cover has been tinted the color of kate winslet's hair in Eternal Sunshine. I look and feel like a steaming hot french fry just plucked from the fryer and dipped in bright red tomato catsup. Although the sensation of having my entire skin warm is kind of cool. It's like a giant heating pad skeleton has been inserted underneath my dermis. I guess that's what happens when you take sunscreen with you to the pool, but never remove it from its little bottle.

I'm going to be enjoying my esau-like crimson color, politically incorrect "redman" image for the next few days at least. I'm just looking forward to the days when I can peel large strips of skin off of my shoulders like flowered wallpaper.

It was worth it.


About Me

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Days since Dan entered into wedded bliss:




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A Capital Idea
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