2-4-5 adventures

All posts tagged 2-4-5 adventures

then it’s fun and games without depth perception

Posted by EXIT265C on April 26, 2009
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Yesterday was Fred and Amber’s wedding. I rushed yesterday morning because I got two phone calls in the middle of the night and I woke up far too early twice.

I forgot the directions to Ashie’s house and Ambers’ apartment.

I forgot my wedding gift.

I forgot to get new dress shoes so I washed my black leather casual shoes well and rubbed vegetable oil on them so they had a sheen. It could have been worse; at least I didn’t have sneakers on under my wedding dress like a certain close friend of mine who refuses to talk to me until I forget that she burned soap.

I found out Pat Kane and I got the same thing the same day so I can at least return it, get something else and give it to them after their honeymoon.

I headed up to what the post office has decided is Mechanicsville and then drive for eight years to the church in Prince George County. I was supposed to meet up with Pat Kane and others before the service but they were running late and we got inside the church in just enough time to not be determined late.

The wedding went well and, as I was seating people, a lot of them were like, &#8220so this was your fault.&#8221 It is true. I mentioned in an entry a long time ago that I care not to search for right now that Fred and I headed up to Pennsylvania to get brownies from some former coworkers because their brownies were amazing and we wanted to prove that we weren’t joking when we said were going to go up there to get them.

I’ve also mentioned before that, every time I’m in that state near Harrisburg, I feel obligated to stop and visit Kira because I usually have no reason to go into Pennsylvania and figured she’s hunt me down if she found out that I was there and didn’t see her. Fred was a bit mission-minded and didn’t want to make the side trip. I refused to budge and he met Amber, who was never, ever at home all of the other times I had stopped by. As we left for the second leg of our trip, Fred mentioned how attractive he thought she was and I thought nothing of it at the time. Next thing I knew, they were dating.

The reception was in the backyard of a house Fred’s parents are restoring. They’re living there for now and to be honest, I don’t understand how I spent months trying to find a funky place to live and I’m the one living in a Cape Cod in a nice part of Richmond. I know it’s an odd thing to complain about but I was really shooting to live over a shop or in a converted something or other.

But I digress.

The reception was rickrolled.

I got pepperoni rolls.

I still had hours of adventure to go.

At around 5 p.m., Ashie and I headed down to Newport News to get Ambers so we could see Blonde Redhead live at Old Dominion University. Although I like dressing up, being in a black tux in 90-degree weather was a bit extreme and I was in a great rush to get out of it.

Of course my right contact fell out as I’m dressing and we could not find it. I’ve never had a soft contact just fall out. I don’t have any more left and didn’t bring my glasses because my contacts haven’t fell out since I switched to soft. I also don’t have any more because I need to schedule an eye appointment soon because I slowly realized that the prescription for my left eye is wrong. So wrong that I discovered that I’ve been basically looking out of my right eye and my brain was just using info from my left eye to maintain depth perception. I was fine as long as the sun was out but I could not drive back in well-lit areas at night and Ashie had to take over after the concert.

The concert. THE concert. It was the greatest concert I’ve ever seen with one eye and I know right now that Blonde Redhead definitely is my favorite band. I only didn’t know one song they played and it was obviously from one of the two older albums I don’t have because I didn’t know it and because of its sound. I was a bit surprised that they pulled out a song from that far back but it was cool. The set was as follows:
&#8220Dr. Strangeluv&#8221 from 23
&#8220Spring and by Summer Fall&#8221 from 23
&#8220The Dress&#8221 from 23
&#8220Messenger&#8221 from Misery is a Butterfly
&#8220Equus&#8221 from Misery is a Butterfly
&#8220S.W.&#8221 [my favorite song on 23]
&#8220Anticipation&#8221 from Misery is a Butterfly
&#8220Falling Man&#8221 from Misery is a Butterfly
“23&#8221 from 23
[Older song I don't know from 1995 or 1997]
Encore:
&#8220Hated Because of Great Qualities&#8221 from Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons
&#8221Melody of Certain Three&#8221 from Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons

The only disappointing things about the concert was that the venue wasn’t good for lyrics and some people left after hearing their jams from 23. Then again, that was cool because we got closer.

Afterward was said ride home where I realized that I can’t see what the hell was going on with only one eye and streetlights so Ashie dropped Ambers off and drove us back to Richmond. On the last leg of my trip, I got to the Boulevard Bridge and dropped all of my change on the ground because of my lack of depth perception and had to toss 50 more cents in because I didn’t have 35 more.

Now it’s time for me to clean my crooked glasses, head down to Hopewell and work on stuff I hadn’t earlier because I was terminally tired all week. I think I have to back out of Mojo’s Wednesday and Philly this coming weekend. I need to sleep in more than just today and I need to get some work done. I think this was the ultimate busy weekend out of all the busy weekends for months and I definitely need to take a little break.

Many Combolations to Fred and Amber. May the In the Parking Lot of Food Lion be with you.

Oh, I almost forgot something. I enjoyed spending the entire day with you, Ashie. :-)

I almost forgot something else:
Est … Ist … MITTERNACHT!

adventures in baking

Posted by EXIT265C on September 11, 2008
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Pat Kane and I made a pecan pie last night.

No, really. Except for the crust, we made it from scratch.

You see, every now and then, one of our copy editors mentions some food he or she wouldn’t mind having and, for some odd reason, Fred, Pat and I often leave the office (it’s typically after we’re done for the day), make it and bring it in that night/the next day. That’s what happened last night.

I headed over to Pat and Court’s because I wanted to drink beer. After a couple minutes, Pat suggested we get beer and a pecan pie because it was the one pie that the copy editors on duty last night both seemed to like.

At first, we couldn’t find a frozen pecan pie and one already made seemed incredibly expensive so the idea turned to making our own.

We thought pecan pie filling came in a jar. We asked a worker in the grocery store if they had pecan pie filling.

&#8220Pie filling? Like for pies?&#8221
No, dipshit, for chili.

There wasn’t any so I called Amber (Amber = Kira’s little sister, Nettles = Amber-Formerly-in-Chief, Ambers = all the funs) and asked her how to make a pie. She seemed very confused that I called to ask how to make a pie.

The level of confusion when one receives a phone call from me or sees me is proportional to the amount of time spent with me. For example, Falyn would not be surprised that I cracked open a few beers at like 10 p.m. yesterday and made a frickin’ pecan pie because I’ve baked a ham at 1 a.m. and have called someone from inside of his house early one morning to inform him that I got in town at 3 a.m. and slept on the couch that night. Because I’m awesome.

Anyway, Amber gave me a recipe after I purposely didn’t exactly explain why last night was the night of the baking of the pie (because I couldn’t exactly explain anyway) and Pat and I got the ingredients.

It looked very, very wrong.

If you’ve never made a pecan pie before, the filling with the pecans on top looks like a very, very sweet quiche. I by sweet, I mean full of sugar and corn syrup, not awesome-looking. The only reason we put it in the oven was to see what the hell would happen.

At first, it smelt like an omelette and then that transitioned into smelling like a pie. When we took it out of the oven, it even looked like a pie. About an hour later, we brought it into the office and dammed if it didn’t taste like a pie. A fucking delicious pie.

At Year’s End

Posted by EXIT265C on March 3, 2008
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Fred, anyone who may have visited and I have imbibed 50 bottles of wine in the past 52 weeks. I don’t even want to count the number of beer bottle caps.

Today is New Year’s Day, it marks exactly one year since we’ve been in this house. It’s amazing because of what I’ve just done. I have not lived in the same spot for over 365 days since roughly June 1983 to August 2001. The only place that comes close is the Tau Delt house because I think I technically never moved out and the living room is my bedroom.

For at least a year now, I’ve been whining about wanting to stay somewhere for more than a year, to finally be home somewhere and I just did it in a place I no longer want to be.

I don’t quite know what to make of this except to give pause right now and continue to look for an exit. I hope I don’t figure that I can’t do any better and settle right now.

COOKIES! Num, num, num, num!

Posted by EXIT265C on December 9, 2007
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Raisins. If raisins did not end up in Fred’s shopping bag, I wouldn’t be sitting here eating cookies. I wouldn’t have a story to tell either.

We had to do something with the raisins. I generally don’t sit around eating raisins and Fred doesn’t either. So I immediately proposed oatmeal raisin cookies, homemade.

On Thursday, other than writing my column, I set out to work. The recipe looked simple and it was until I realized I needed a bigger bowl. The recipe was for 48 cookies. So there I was, mixing an enormous bowl of oatmeal raisin cookie dough by hand, hoping it wouldn’t take 50 years to finish.

Before I embarked on this voyage, I was warned by a coworker that her oatmeal raisin cookies usually ended up very thin, slightly singed but otherwise good. That’s pretty much what happened.

The first batch were more like oatmeal raisin brittle than cookies. I followed the recipe to a T but, when I scrolled down the Web site, a few people mentioned that the oven setting was entirely too high. So I tried again with the amendments. They still began to spread like crazy but they are delicious. I don’t know if I’ll try this again or any time soon, though.

What else made this difficult was that, at the time, our kitchen sink was clogged so I couldn’t use it in this process, which I made more difficult by deciding to mold the balls of cookies by hand instead of using two spoons or something. I’m surprised that I didn’t get cookie dough all over the house.

It could have been far worse. I recall a certain year when I was a CNU student where I was awakened by the smell of smoke. My first thought and fear was that our apartment or one nearby was on fire. I went out of my room to check our apartment out then see if I needed to wake my roommate, grab my laptop and go.

As I walked, I realized that the smell was coming from our kitchen. I rounded the corner to see, not flames shooting out of the sink, but my roommate, wearing nothing but boxers and oven mitts, hauling a charred sheet of baked goods out of the oven.

I forget whether he was making cookies or brownies. He said so. He was making them in an attempt to woo the girls who lived upstairs, I think. It didn’t really matter anymore since they more or less weren’t fit for human consumption, as are almost every dessert he has tried to make.

Not long after seeing this scene, I went back to bed. I don’t recall much of the conversation except I’m pretty sure I asked him why the [expletive] he was [expletive] making [expletive] cookies at [expletive] three o’[expletive] clock in the [expletive] morning.

That’s How You Turn It Off

Posted by EXIT265C on October 8, 2007
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When I got home from my mom’s house, I cut the grass, just to see if I could. I haven’t cut grass in a very long time because I’m allergic to at least whatever grows at my mom’s house and my chapter house. I now know that I am not allergic to the grass here.

I also know that I have no idea how to run a power-assist lawnmower.

Long story short, because I really don’t feel like going through this right now (I might repost this later with the full story, including Saturday night and such), the lawnmower would not turn off. Like, when you let go of the handle, nothing happens. I panicked for like 20 minutes or so because Fred was shooting a wedding and was the only person to ever work the mower at the house and couldn’t respond to text messages.

At one point, I finally realized that I could just pull out the spark plug wire. Fred later told me the quote in the subject line.

Not letting my conscience be my guide

Posted by EXIT265C on September 5, 2007
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About 35 minutes ago, I expected to be asleep by now. But no. …

Me (11:04:56 PM): GOD DAMN IT. THERE IS A CRICKET SOMEWHERE IN MY ROOM AND IT’S FUCKING CHIRPING!
Fred (11:07:16 PM): i wish i could help
Me (11:05:49 PM): I’m just letting you know that you might hear some loud banging in a minute
Fred (11:08:02 PM): k
Fred (11:08:33 PM): you want ummm cup to catch and let go? or katana to smash and kill?
Me (11:07:59 PM): i need to flush it from under the heater first
Fred (11:10:20 PM): oh
Me (11:11:16 PM): I blindly poked under there and it stopped chirping. I guess that’s good for now
Fred (11:13:41 PM): lol
Me (11:12:53 PM): no it was just temporary. I think it’s really a matter of getting it from under the damn thing
Fred (11:15:31 PM): yeah… i could have told you it wouldn’t stay quiet for long, it can probably hear the ones outside i’m hearing
Fred (11:17:33 PM): crickets don’t like heat i don’t think… sooooooooo maybe turn the heater on a bit, for just a bit
Me (11:23:01 PM): you’re right. it started to creep out but not enough for me to get to it
Me (11:25:00 PM): damn it. it went back under
Me (11:28:29 PM): fuck it. it’s hot. I’m going to hope it doesn’t make any noise until after I fall asleep. if not, I may be on the couch in the morning
Fred (11:30:50 PM): lol k
Me (11:31:31 PM): I got that motherfucker
Fred (11:33:52 PM): lol
Me (11:32:01 PM): chirpy, chirp-chirp this, bitch

Now I currently don’t feel sleepy. BAH.

I don’t swear this much in real life … really!

Eastbound and Down

Posted by EXIT265C on August 26, 2007
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I went to West Virginia for the first time on Friday. I got gas and saw fuzzy handcuffs and a vast assortment of condoms at the gas station.

I got back at about 10. This trip was awesome. Falyn took pictures and, hopefully, she’ll share pictures or post them herself.

All I can say about driving to Wilkes-Barre is that you haven’t lived until you’ve driven a box truck for seven hours in four states. I was completely comfortable with it by the time we got out of Virginia and was quite disappointed when I discovered there was a governor in it that wouldn’t let me go over 75. I mean, hypothetically, if I were to attempt to go over 75, I would not have been able … I mean, I have no idea that there was a governor in it; I always maintain the posted the speed limit.

Ahem.

After dropping off Tamara’s truck in Wilkes-Barre, we arrived at Kira and Amber’s at about 2 a.m. Basically, we got there to sleep. Since Amber is working her ass off and Kira was at a horse show, we didn’t get to see much of them, which was the original point of the trip when it was first planned (way back when Mandy originally said she was going).

We did get to spend ample time with Chelsea and Jim, who also became major aspects of the trip as it evolved into this epic.

We got to Baltimore Saturday afternoon after having lunch in an awesome Irish pub in Harrisburg (Boxty’s to eat and lambic on tap). It was one of the first times that I’ve been in that city where I didn’t even see the Inner Harbor. And I spent many summers around Baltimore growing up. At one point, I got a little bored while Falyn and Chelsea were shopping so I walked across the street to a bar that was just named the Drinkery. The Drinkery: that sounds like my kind of place. Because it has the word &#8220drink&#8221 in it.

So I walk in and sit down. It’s a gay bar. I’m already in and sitting down so I have a beer. As I finish my second (apparently, you can’t order just one Yuengling there), Falyn and Chelsea come in so we stay for a bit more. The Maryland DMV screwed up and said that Chelsea is a man on her new license so she has a small bit of fun with the bartender before I have an epic dinner.

No joke. My dinner affected the entire restaurant.

After leaving the Drinkery, we got Thai food. You know how much I like Thai food, especially spicy Thai food. When I looked at the menu, I saw that their spicy scale went up to five stars so I frantically searched for a five-star dish. There wasn’t one so I picked a three-star dish and asked for it as five stars. The waiter asked if I’ve been to that restaurant before.
&#8220I’ve been to many Thai restaurants,&#8221 I replied.
He said that they make their food very spicy and asked if I was sure I wanted five stars.
&#8220Oh, I can take it,&#8221 I replied.

A few seconds later, everyone in the restaurant began to cough. When the waiter came back to our table he said, &#8220You know why everyone is coughing?&#8221
&#8220It’s because you’re making his food,&#8221 Falyn replied.

My dinner was delicious. There was much sweating but it wasn’t like melt-your-face-off hot. The waiter said that it was as hot as they could make it before it lost its flavor. It made me feel alive when I finished.

After that, there was more drinking, eating mac & cheese with smoked Gouda and snacking on soybeans.

We slept for roughly 12 hours.

The next day, today, we arrived in Lexington Park, St. Mary’s County, Md. To the same apartment complex in which my sister lived until about late 1998. It was almost about 10 years to the day that I had last been in that complex. It was fun seeing Jim and seeing how much that county has changed. It was ridiculous. I never thought St. Mary’s would have a Target, Chipotle or even a Lowe’s. All I can say is thus: If St. Mary’s can do it, the Tri-Cities can do it and more.

Then we went to the best part of the trip: I got a copy of St. Mary’s Today so I can prove that it’s a real newspaper. Oh, and we saw a gigantic &#8220scarecrow&#8221 that looked like an evil SpongeBob SquarePants.

Tomorrow, I need to run up to Glen Allen to do something then go to CNU for the alumni advisor’s meeting there. Then I work this weekend because wanted Tuesday off and I want to save my last three vacation days.

I already racked up about 1000 miles since my oil change on Wednesday.

Eastbound and down, loaded up and truckin’,
We’re gonna do what they say can’t be done.
We’ve got a long way to go and a short time to get there.
I’m eastbound, just watch ol’ Bandit run.

It’s 350 miles to Wilkes-Barre. We got a tank full of gas, three vehicles, it’s dark …

Posted by EXIT265C on August 23, 2007
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and we’re wearing sunglasses. Hit it.

So Fred and I have a note, a set of keys and an envelope of cash. We’re waiting for a phone call at 3 p.m. Falyn arrives at 2 p.m. I plan to leave at about after we get the call.

What’s going on is that one of our former copy editors is moving there and she doesn’t know where she’s living yet. So she’s up there trying to find an apartment whilst her stuff is still down here.

Here’s where it gets complicated.

Originally this weekend, Falyn and I were going to visit Jim, Chelsea and Kira/Amber (that reminds me: I need to call Chelsea tomorrow). We still are going to visit Jim, Chelsea and Kira/Amber. Begin run-on sentence:
So I’m driving the truck whilst Falyn follows in my car or her car then we go to Wilkes-Barre and drop off truck and then ride to Kira & Amber’s together, where we should arrive around the same time as Fred, who is taking his own car and then, after that, Falyn and I head to Baltimore to visit Chelsea then Lexington Park, Md., to visit Jim while Fred hangs out with Amber and does some other touring of Pennsylvania and then we all return to Hopewell.
End run-on sentence.

In fact, this whole week has been complicated. Yesterday, I went to CNU for absolutely no reason because I can’t read. I thought a meeting I had to attend was yesterday but the e-mail I was sent said the 28th. So, when I got to CNU, I went out drinking instead. At this party, a woman from my newspaper’s coverage area had no idea what our newspaper was because no one under the age of 65 reads here. Another woman assumed that I had Black & Mild cigars because … well … it wasn’t because I have a degree in English and legitimate business cards in my wallet.

Other than that, it was a fun night and a good break from this hectic week.

Oh, did I mention that, before we head out on our road trip, I have to get up at the bloody crack of dawn to cover the attempted murder trial of a guy whose other ex-girlfriend has mysteriously disappeared? And I have to go back to Newport News next Tuesday because that’s when this meeting really happens.

791: When you know you’ve been around me too long &#8212 sign #8

Posted by EXIT265C on July 13, 2007
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Key West. October. Just because you can drive that far south in the US. Fred’s idea. It’s happening.

He just brought it up a couple seconds ago. I still have no idea why. It’s going to be a two-day trip. Yes, 2000 miles in a single weekend by car. If we leave Friday night, we get there while there’s still sun Saturday. Then we drive forever on Sunday back here.

I already can’t wait.

God, we’re insane.

You know what else is insane?

EST … IST … MITTERNACHT!

pennsylvania — june 16, 2007

Posted by EXIT265C on July 4, 2007
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You have no idea how hard it is to get a picture of this bastard.


Seriously, this took far too much effort. But there he is: Fred, ladies and gentlemen.

Anyway, behind the cut are the rest of the pictures from Longwood Gardens in the lovely [snicker] Philadelphia [chortle] Countryside [bwahahahahaha!]. There’s a bunch of frickin’ plants and a photo of Fred and his girlfriend, Amber. Long story short, yes, my roommate who is also my coworker is dating the little sister of my friend from high school who moved to Pennsylvania before graduation. Did I also mention that another one of my coworkers is a friend from college? My life is totally a cross between a sitcom with a limited budget for casting and a Charles Dickens novel.

Anyway, the photos. There are 47.