Esoteric and Nebulous

Definition of a true friend: someone who still enjoys your company even after you've exposed a private piece of your soul to them and/or made some colossal mistakes. I'm gradually learning who my true friends are.

Been awhile since I've blogged my brains out, as it were, but there's not much to report. I decided not to do the trip to TGE and TMBG mentioned in the last post. I half forgot about it until now (i.e. after the fact), anyways.

I broke my recordable CD player...whacked the "source" tray with my knee, throwing it (the tray, not my knee, luckily) out of alignment. No more CD burning for me for a while, it would appear. I'm going to try to fiddle with it a little more myself before contacting the seller and seeing if they'll provide repair service (and if so, at what cost). Bummer.

Tried to open a P.O. Box today in anticipation of my (hopefully) soon to start home-based business, but it was too much of a hassle. Will try again next week, perhaps. It's a wonder more people don't "go postal" given the inconvenient nature of our beloved USPS. On a related note, did you know that there's a provision somewhere (I think it may even be in the US Constitution or an Amendment thereof!) that prohibits any entity from competing with the USPS? That means that all these folks like UPS (which a friend suggests stands for "(Yo)U People Suck"), FedEX, DHL, Airborne, etc. are technically operating illegally! Well, at least we know that if the government ever exercises the option to shut them down, the USPS will be well-skilled to do the job with extreme prejudice. Now, that would be "going postal!"

Lastly, I was at a popular office supply store a few days ago (you know the one--not Staples or Office Depot, yeah that one...clear now? Good!) and met the single most uncharismatic, bored, apathetic cashier I've ever had the mind-bogglingly weird experience of doing business with. This girl could hardly be bothered to speak, let alone smile. I think she must have been turned down for work at Six Flags or something (ever see the employees at most Six Flags parks? I rest my case...). She completely drained the positive energy in this store (well, I mean, it IS an office supply store, after all, so my mistake might have been in assuming there was any positive energy there to begin with). Borderline rude, it was a depressing commentary on the state of our alleged service economy. Which leaves me with only one question...think I should have tried to get her number? --Insert rim shot here, imaginary house drummer--

Oh, OK, one more thing: thanks, Beth, for linking me to your page, that was right neighborly of you. I've truly made it from zero to hero now that I'm accepted by a fellow blogger. Happy happy joy joy. I've returned the favor, though only in this post because I don't have the super cool mad "side bar" making skills that the more so-fist-eye-kate-ted among you do. It's a start though. Now I'm really done, at least for the time being. You can go back to watching The Amazing Dog Eat Dog American Idol Big Brother Survivor Race or whatever else is on right now. :)

The Warbles are here! The Warbles are here! Yes, on Friday, the copies of the brand spanking new Fuzzy Warbles Vol. 3 and 4 I ordered completed their transatlantic journey to my mailbox. I had only just placed my order June 28 and they, supposedly, didn't being shipping orders til' July 7, so this is the fastest I've ever received anything from overseas. In case you're wondering, Fuzzy Warbles is the project by XTC front man Andy Partridge to unleash all his demo recordings on an unsuspecting world. I don't think these volumes are quite as strong as 1 and 2, but there are some gems to be found. The Art Song (Something Good With Your Life) is especially noteworthy. There are several neato things about these discs: 1) Even though I already have the majority of the songs on them, they're almost all in bootleg form--these are cleaned up real nice nice plus send the money where it belongs...to the artist; 2) For a limited time, all copies ordered through Andy's Ape House web site are signed by the man; 3) There are little thumbnail descriptions of each song in the accompanying booklet. My favorite of these is for the song entitled Bumpercars. It reads, in part: "A 'Waspstar' reject, that when it first came up, got me all fired to do a complete concept album about life as funfair. Hence 'It's a fun, fair life.'" Andy, I, for one, vote that you MUST write and record this album. Do it now! Postpone the rest of the Warbles, tell Blegvad where to get off, and put all your energy into this one. I'll be happy to act as your technical advisor. We'll go to Blackpool and do some research (if you pay for the flight over). :P One can dream, anyways.

Friday was quite the busy day. I met a new friend in Boston. Enjoyed interloping in her dinner with friends and grabbing a beverage at an, um, interesting cafe in the suburbs of Boston. Sweet kid, that one...certainly a productive use of a Friday night. I hope we get to hang out again.

The only down side to Friday was when I was coming home. About 15 minutes or so from my driveway, I started to notice a troubling noise emanating from the bowels of my automobile. At first, I thought it might be a flat tire, but the car continued to handle properly and I felt no loss of height in any corner of the vehicle. I didn't know what was going on. A careful diagnosis the next day revealed that the plastic covering that protects the radiator from roadway debris had somehow become fractured and partially dislodged. A patch job was done to repair it that I would suspect will hold at least until the next scheduled maintenance sneaks up on me. The good news here is that the problem wasn't anything major. The bad news is that I had to bow out of ACE Day at Coney Island. I didn't want to chance driving that far with a then-undiagnosed problem with my car. At least I should be all set should I decide to go anywhere next weekend.

No news from "Monkey Trouble." Haven't called her again...maybe next week. Just been too busy and, perhaps, too concerned with that whole "illicit substance" thing to bother yet. I did get caught up on almost all my ACE work today (well, yesterday, at this point), so that's a positive. Also recently found out that TMBG is playing a gig Friday at a non-smoking venue in Albany, which would make a good combo trip with The Great Escape, but I also have travel plans Saturday...decisions, decisions.

I've got some good news and some bad news. The good news is that the number "Monkey Trouble" gave me isn't fake. The bad news is that she's big into (...how can I put this delicately...) the use of a certain illicit substance. She warned me of this previously, but I had no idea the extant of the usage until now. Now, I have friends who use this certain illicit substance time and again, but they do so in moderation. My new friend used this illicit substance about eight or nine times as of about 6pm the day I called her. I'm keeping an open mind, though. I mean, is it really such a big deal? I guess I'm about to find out. I think it would be hypocritical for me to dismiss her just because of that. So many have dismissed me for "just one thing or another" that I think I owe it to my better nature to see this through. If things don't work out fair and square after giving it an honest shot, fine, but I'm not running away. I think I just have to be patient. In the very least, there's a good opportunity to likely learn something here. Wish me luck.

On an unrelated matter, I just got new prescription sun glasses. I feel like such a stylin' cooooool dude when wearing them. I think I'll find excuses to wear them often. :D The annoying flip-downs can now be relegated to the back-up bin. Yay! :)

By the way, anyone have the winning Powerball numbers? I "bought a dream for a dollar," now I want to collect my jackpot 'cuz I'm feeling lucky, punk. Which reminds me of a bit of wisdom that should serve to bring this post full-circle before signing off: Women are like lottery tickets--it's OK to have several of them, but don't get carried away because it can get expensive...besides, if you're very fortunate, you're probably only going to get lucky with one at the most, anyways. :P

By the way, if you're trying to contact me because you think my blog is all cool and hoopy and you want to marry me because of my eclectic prowess with the written word herein, my email is whalomREMOVE@yahoo.com. I look forward to basking in the glow of my many fans...though, more than likely, I've merely only opened up another portal by which spammers can send me useless information about generic Viagra or diplomas from non-accredited universities...sigh. I know--I'll put in one of those spam blocker thingies. Done. Remove the word in all caps before emailing me. That should take care of that. Heh heh.

Wow. I'm like Chuck Woolery: naturally stoned. Why? Well, it's like this.... I was waiting to cash my check at the local supermarket branch of my increasingly lackluster bank. Lackluster because, well, they suck. The power had gone out before my arrival knocking their computer system offline. When it came back up, it was "locked in" to today's date. "Isn't that a good thing?" I hear you cry. No no no, silly fearless reader, it was after 5pm and everyone knows that transactions aren't processed until the next business day, so if the date in the computer isn't the next business day, accepting a transaction is nothing short of a sin against God. I suggested to one of the tellers, "You know, they have these things now called pens and pencils and papers...you could just write down whatever you need to enter in the computer and enter it when they come back up, thus not delaying your loyal customers from their banking needs any longer." Yes, it was a rather condescending and snotty thing to say, but businesses truly centered on the concept of customer service wouldn't have seen it that way. Well, us customers in the bullpen waiting to customize (or whatever) started getting antsy. In a show of solidarity, we starting talking to each other, finding creative and unusual ways to trash this alleged bank's alleged good reputation. Well, most of us gave up waiting after a while, but if there's one thing I've learned from coasters going down at amusement parks, it's that persistence usually pays off. Despite such predicaments, I remained, steadfast in my mission to exchange a piece of paper for other pieces of paper that you can get stuff with. Eventually, it was down to just me and one other prospective banker, a lovely young lady who seems to share my views about the value (or lack thereof) of this fiduciary institution and politics in general. She wore an orange shirt with the phrase "Monkey Trouble" on it. I'm not sure what this was supposed to mean, nor did I dare ask. I did, however, dare ask (as we were being dismissed from this bank that obviously wasn't going to get its act together before closing) that she take my card and drop me an email if she'd like to get some coffee some time. She counter offered by giving me her phone number! I got a number! That hasn't happened in a VERY long time. Now granted, I haven't called this number yet, so I don't know if this was the old "give him the fake number so he'll go away trick," but dang, right now, I'm really psyched. The thrill to life is back again. I just cannot stop smiling. I'm stupidly happy. I rule--and don't let anyone tell ya different! :)

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OK, here's something I've wanted to rant about for a long time, but never seemed to have the right forum. This place, where no one's really going to read it (and those who do won't really care), seems about right for this pointless tirade. I, for one, like going out for ice cream. In the summer, there's little better than soft ice cream with a chocolate dip...especially if they have soft coffee ice cream. The whole chocolate coffee thing in convenient dessert form. Yummy. Yes. Invariably, I'll hop in my red Ford Focus (you really didn't need this much information about my car, save for the fact that I want the world to know that my contribution to saving the environment is not driving a gas guzzler), take a pleasant ride to my local purveyor of cold treats, wait in line and place my order. Here's what drives me up the proverbial wall--I place my order, they make it, hand it to me, THEN tell me what I owe. This is a horrible logistic mistake of modest proportions. What would be so incredibly hard about ringing me up first, then collecting my money, THEN taking care of my order and handing it to me? This way I, as the customer, have my hands free of my wallet and don't have to juggle money and a rapidly melting dessert product. But Noooo, they can't be bothered, they have to hightail it right to the little machine, pull the little lever, and make my order first, forcing me to handle money and ice cream at the same time. I think this is a plot...perhaps all the ice cream places are owned by terrorists that take the dripped ice cream that melts on the counter and use it as a key component in weapons of mass destruction...back during the Cold War, I thought it was a Communist trick, but now we all know that that's just silly. Well, I'm forced to fight back in the only way I know how. I carefully research in advance what my exact total for my order will be and hand them exactly that when it comes time to pay the piper. No tips, no nothing extra. That way, I don't have to juggle my wallet and loose change, trying desperately not to drop my ice cream, nosiree. And what's with tipping the ice cream people these days anyways. Let me get this straight, I drive to the ice cream place, park my car, walk up to the window, place my order, and take my dripping ice cream back to my car and I'm supposed to tip you for making it? Because that walk from the little machine to the customer window is so far above and beyond the call of duty and outside your job description that you deserve a little something something...oh, wait, IT ISN'T--serving ice cream IS your job. Sheesh, what's next, tipping cops for providing your $150 speeding ticket to you in a courteous and expedient manner? There. All vented now. I feel better having screamed, don't you?

Foolish mortals...though which mortal is more foolish? The one who stumbles upon this blog and actually reads it or the one who dares to expose his thoughts to the big square world? This is my first post. If you need me to point this fact out, you might want to have your IQ tested (or re-tested, as the case may be). The original title of this Blog was "Esoteric and Nebulous (and several other polysyllabic words I don't understand the meaning of :) )," but I guess that title was too long for the Blog gods.


"Who am I?" you may ask. I cannot answer such philosophical questions on your behalf, but I can try to do so on mine. My name is Jason. I am a small fuzzy creature from Alpha Centauri (a *real* one, at that). Born on the corner of Rock St. and Hard Place, I was adopted at the age of 72 by an albino dwarf named Cyrino. You may know him better as Vanilla Ice. I graduated from high school in 1992 in a small town in northern Rhode Island, prompting a sigh of relief to be breathed by the administrators and custodians at said school. I then began my lucrative career as the ball return device repairman at my local bowling alley. Shortly after, I married, then swiftly divorced J. Lo because it was my turn. Paramount in my life is my love of roller coasters. As a member of the American Coaster Enthusiasts, I've visited amusement parks throughout the US, Canada, England, and Wales, having ridden about 360 different coasters. I recently found out that someone I cared about didn't feel the same way about me, even though she let me poke her a few times (this, for the record, is a harmless in-joke, for the benefit of anyone with a single eyebrow raised on high). This is a great source of disappointment for me, but if it weren't for disappointments, I wouldn't have any appointments. If I could offer you one piece of advice, it would be to rotate your tires and change your oil regularly because cars are too expensive to replace often. Remember that two wrongs don't make a right, but three rights do make a left. I digress. Where was I...yes I was just going to impart the tale of Gilbert the Gobbling Gopher, but the alliteration police just showed up and arrested him for crimes against gophermanity. I could also tell you about Hugh Manatee, but the pun police got him. I am a big fan of XTC, TMBG, Ben Folds Five, Moxy Fruvous, Jason Falkner, The Grays, Jon Brion, and lots of other musical artists you've never heard of because you're too busy listening to Brittany or Christina or Boy Band #36A or whatever the music biz is trying to spoon feed the intellectually vapid masses today. I'm a member of several 12 step programs, but not a licensed therapist. Most important, I'm looking for my soul mate, wherever she may be (yes, contrary to allegations and scandalous innuendo, I'm straight). She would be sweet yet naughty, youngish yet intelligent, a tad submissive-esque yet strong, and able to discern with some accuracy which of the above is pure fiction (and much of it is) from those statements that are true about me. If that's you, fate has brought you this far, you must do the rest and contact me. I don't bite, 'less you want me to. :) Now sit down, shut up, and read on, because I'm just full of something and for everyone's sake, I hope that what it is I'm full of is Blog-worthy musings. Later gator.