..when I floss my teeth. Try it out.
--
Two plus years later, Robert Plant and Alison Krauss' Raising Sand is still a tremendous album. I'm listening to it right now. "Rich Woman" came into my head tonight at work when I saw some lowlife getting dinner bought by his two good looking female companions, who also happen to be my co-workers. This scene was predicted by a server, who said it happens quite regularly.
Jealous and/or bitter, you say? Perhaps, yes. Sue me. HAH!
Cheers.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday Nights; Sunday Mornings..
Today I didn't work. At all. Which was stellar. Whole day off. Went to the beach. Read some book. Napped. Listened to some Blues Traveler on the iPod. Soaked up some rays. Solid outdoor day on the whole from just after noontime until a tad bit before five. Plenty o'sun. No more pasty-ness. Freshly salted hair. Woo. Hoo. Temporarily shook the rust off from my end-of-summer doldrums. Hopefully this was the start of something new.
The Hawkeyes played pretty terribly, however, and were down three TD's after the first half but worked their way back into the game as Arizona kept shooting themselves in the foot with penalties, a muffed punt, and a pick six and in th 4th Iowa had a chance to take the lead but missed an extra point. Special teams win games, folks. And, clearly, lose games, as Iowa went on to lose. Get'em next week, Kirk.
That Iowa talk really had nothing to do with anything except it's kind of random and semi-interesting to me and it ledd into the fact The Perfect Storm came on around the time the game ended and I started watching The Perfect Storm, because, well, I had nothing better to do and it took place in New England and since I'm 5,000 miles away from New England programs and movies and songs and the like which involve New England interest me more than they used to when I was in New England. I just said New England a lot. I should stop that; it was kind of amateur. I head home in three weeks, though, which I think is kind of cool. I enjoy Maine immensely in autumn. Well, fall. I don't generally use autumn. Too high brow for my eclectic verbage. I can't wait to go to Wallingford's. Cider donuts. Yes, sir. There will be plenty else going on and Liam's wedding to go to, but cider donuts are pretty high up on my list of reasons why I enjoy Maine in the fall. Wallingford's is the cat's purrr-jamas.
I've always thought The Perfect Storm was a pretty good movie. Good in the sense I can watch it multiple times and still be amused, and be able to jump into it when it's half over without incident. I had forgotten John C. Reilly was in it. I just saw The River Wild on an HBO a week or two ago, and had forgotten he was in that, too. So if you were wondering it takes only one degree to connect John C. Reilly to Kevin Bacon, as both were in The River Wild. Write that down. Reilly also damn near brought a tear to my eye tonight as The Perfect Storm was ending after the boat capsizes and he and another of the crew are trapped in the cabin and the water's up to their chins and he looks over at the other guy and says, "This is going to be hard on my little boy" and then the water fills the cabin. I don't know why it's affecting me so much but even as I type this out I just have to say, "Fuck, that's just shitty all the way around." I saw a dead cat on the side of the road I ride to work every day and that kind of got me feeling flat, too. It looked like my first cat when I was little. His name was Tigger. He also died in an automobile accident. Ironic. But ya, I had to ride past this two days straight before it finally got removed by someone more considerate than myself:
I didn't have a shovel, sorry.
Anyways, back to the film. Early on in the movie in a bar scene the jukebox is on and Bruce Springsteen is blasting when everyone's happy as the scene opens but when the controversy picks up and George Clooney's Skipper character tells the crew they're going out for one last go-round of the season a Tom Waits song is on in the background. Today, before Blues Traveler, I listened to most of Closing Time while I was napping on a hotel lawn chair. Guy's legit. I know I've mentioned my adoration of Waits' early works so it was nice to find someone in the movie bizz who appreciated his tremendous works. My big sis got me keen to him one way or another awhile back, so if I didn't give you credit the first time around the block then, "Thanks for introducing me to the music of Tom Waits." The song that was playing in the bar is called "(Looking for) The Heart of Saturday Night." I found this especially fitting, as this is, well, a Saturday night. Eerie...
So, so good. If you don't know, now you know.
-
It's now Sunday morning. Both here, and wherever you are if you're in the US. Moreso than here, as it is actually Sunday morning, but it doesn't really feel like Sunday morning because I haven't been to bed yet so really it still feels like Saturday night. Since you will be reading this on , presumably after a heavy night of boozing and other PED's, let me provide you with my favorite Sunday song, as only two legends can do..
Kris Kristofferson is one hell of a songwriter. Again, just throwing that out there; if you don't know now you know. Cheers.
Before I get going too much further I just have to say I've been on a pretty big Blues Traveler kick for the past couple of weeks. Four has been a regular player on my rides to and from the office and the couple other cd's I have have been being clicked on regularly when the laptop is booted and iTunes is open. They played at LL Bean's outdoor summer stage a couple of years ago for free and I thought about going down but I saw a flyer with the band beforehand and everyone was skinny so I thought John Popper had either left the band or died so I didn't bother to head down. Turns out he had gastric bypass surgery in the 2000's and lost a good deal of weight and was normal sized and still in the band. So, F my decision. Hindsight always seems to be 20/20, eh?After some dinner tonight I settled in to watch some TV and caught the 2nd half of the Arizona v. Iowa game. I watch Iowa games quite a bit because they're head coach, Kirk Ferentz, coached the Black Bears awhile back so Skip knows him. When he was with the Browns he got me a personalized Eric Metcalf autographed picture, which is nothing to sneeze at and because of this it goes without saying I'll be pro-Kirk for life. It's also neat to say you have ties to the highest-paid state employee in Iowa. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.
The Hawkeyes played pretty terribly, however, and were down three TD's after the first half but worked their way back into the game as Arizona kept shooting themselves in the foot with penalties, a muffed punt, and a pick six and in th 4th Iowa had a chance to take the lead but missed an extra point. Special teams win games, folks. And, clearly, lose games, as Iowa went on to lose. Get'em next week, Kirk.
That Iowa talk really had nothing to do with anything except it's kind of random and semi-interesting to me and it ledd into the fact The Perfect Storm came on around the time the game ended and I started watching The Perfect Storm, because, well, I had nothing better to do and it took place in New England and since I'm 5,000 miles away from New England programs and movies and songs and the like which involve New England interest me more than they used to when I was in New England. I just said New England a lot. I should stop that; it was kind of amateur. I head home in three weeks, though, which I think is kind of cool. I enjoy Maine immensely in autumn. Well, fall. I don't generally use autumn. Too high brow for my eclectic verbage. I can't wait to go to Wallingford's. Cider donuts. Yes, sir. There will be plenty else going on and Liam's wedding to go to, but cider donuts are pretty high up on my list of reasons why I enjoy Maine in the fall. Wallingford's is the cat's purrr-jamas.
I've always thought The Perfect Storm was a pretty good movie. Good in the sense I can watch it multiple times and still be amused, and be able to jump into it when it's half over without incident. I had forgotten John C. Reilly was in it. I just saw The River Wild on an HBO a week or two ago, and had forgotten he was in that, too. So if you were wondering it takes only one degree to connect John C. Reilly to Kevin Bacon, as both were in The River Wild. Write that down. Reilly also damn near brought a tear to my eye tonight as The Perfect Storm was ending after the boat capsizes and he and another of the crew are trapped in the cabin and the water's up to their chins and he looks over at the other guy and says, "This is going to be hard on my little boy" and then the water fills the cabin. I don't know why it's affecting me so much but even as I type this out I just have to say, "Fuck, that's just shitty all the way around." I saw a dead cat on the side of the road I ride to work every day and that kind of got me feeling flat, too. It looked like my first cat when I was little. His name was Tigger. He also died in an automobile accident. Ironic. But ya, I had to ride past this two days straight before it finally got removed by someone more considerate than myself:
Anyways, back to the film. Early on in the movie in a bar scene the jukebox is on and Bruce Springsteen is blasting when everyone's happy as the scene opens but when the controversy picks up and George Clooney's Skipper character tells the crew they're going out for one last go-round of the season a Tom Waits song is on in the background. Today, before Blues Traveler, I listened to most of Closing Time while I was napping on a hotel lawn chair. Guy's legit. I know I've mentioned my adoration of Waits' early works so it was nice to find someone in the movie bizz who appreciated his tremendous works. My big sis got me keen to him one way or another awhile back, so if I didn't give you credit the first time around the block then, "Thanks for introducing me to the music of Tom Waits." The song that was playing in the bar is called "(Looking for) The Heart of Saturday Night." I found this especially fitting, as this is, well, a Saturday night. Eerie...
So, so good. If you don't know, now you know.
-
It's now Sunday morning. Both here, and wherever you are if you're in the US. Moreso than here, as it is actually Sunday morning, but it doesn't really feel like Sunday morning because I haven't been to bed yet so really it still feels like Saturday night. Since you will be reading this on , presumably after a heavy night of boozing and other PED's, let me provide you with my favorite Sunday song, as only two legends can do..
Kris Kristofferson is one hell of a songwriter. Again, just throwing that out there; if you don't know now you know. Cheers.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Where'd I leave off..
Aloha. In case you forgot who I am, my name is Matt. I moved from Maine to Hawaii some months ago. I started this blog about two years ago. Over those two years this is by far the longest I've gone between posts. I've been incredibly lazy these past couple weeks. Since I returned to Maui in August I've been leading the sad life of a working man, slaving away for damn near 40 hours of my week, working six out of seven days and all the while pretty much hating life. My past weeks have consisted of, more or less, the following:
--
Not that blogging will make me cool. Just, why would I blog when I don't. do. anything. It's just not interesting. The things that have crossed my mind and made me laugh recently are Family Guy clips. And I guess I can only post so many Family Guy clips where the bulk of the post is THE clip, with nothing more for me to say other than, "I thought it was funny." The clips have no direct link to any aspect of my life besides me enjoying Family Guy and it's on every night at midnight so there's a pretty strong chance I'm awake to catch it. It's just become a part of my day. Most Family Guys have at least one clip that I find quite funny, which then makes me want to see if youtube has the clip, and if youtube has the clip then I think I should post it. Usually, however, I don't bother. A lot of the good ones aren't on there at all, or are only on there in foreign languages. Most scenes just aren't as funny when you can't understand what is being said.
--
I started watching The Informant! a couple of weeks ago. The plot was pretty lame but I found the inner monologue of Matt Damon's character hilarious. And he had a killer mustache, which was nice. Somewhere I read that someone had a "molestache." AKA molest-stache. AKA molester stache. I thought it was pretty funny. I hope some people consider my lip sweater to be working its way into the molestache category.
This was intended to be more about Damon's internal monologue being eerily similar to how I go through most of my days feeling like I talk to myself nonstop. Is this normal? Do other people constantly have ridiculous thoughts going through their heads that just drift from one starting point and slowly tangent outward and outward and outward. Thought entropy, really. Nonstop. Earlier this week the song "Your Woman" popped into my head at work. I knew it was sung by a group that had "white" in its name. White Town. I don't recall why I thought of this but the video is pretty neat, silent film style..
But anyways a couple of weeks ago I was leaving work after a day shift and I was walking through the shopping center/district that Hula Grill is on the edge of (bike parking is at the front of this center. Whaler's Village. Lot of classy stores (Louis V, Galleries, etc) mixed in with surf clothiers (Volcom, Quicksilver, Billabong, etc) mixed in with cheap ass "island items" stores that sell knick knacks and random ass shit. Kind of funky but it's a popular tourist spot as it's got a few hotels on either side of it and, of course, Hula Grill draws a crowd..) and I had my headphones on and a little jazz session going on in my head (not jazz as in jazz music, but jazz as in "impromptu performance." The D-backs coach at Bates would always say that when you intercept a pass or scoop a fumble that it was time for a jazz session. I thought it was silly, but catchy. He's the same guy who would also interrupt any time you fucked up and started to say "I thought it was.." with "You thought you farted but you shit your pants." He's a character..) with some boardshorts and a random ass t-shirt on (I think it was my new USA tie dye. If you haven't seen it yet I'll try to wear it more. Picked it up from the Mystical Emporium when I was home in July. It's swell..) headed back to my bike to ride off into the sunset when I passed some people and one of the guys said, "Hey, that's the guy from the Hula Grill."
Clearly my nappy ponytail and skeevy mustache attracts some attention, but it's nice to know that people comment about my steeze to their friends and family. Multiple servers have told me they've overheard their guests joke that I could be Ron Jeremy's younger brother. That one is a mixed blessing, as my goal in life is not to be a short, fat man. But clearly my upper lip has taken on a personality all its own. Multiple isn't ten, but three. Three's enough to know there's plenty of silly banter sparked by the goodness I've got going on. That's good enough for me. I guess this is just another step in the escalator that is my look. There have been some downs brought on by institutions of higher learning which claim to promote egalitarian perspectives within the liberal arts but are quite oppressive in regards to the hair length possessed by their young coaches. But hey, I got a mullet out of the deal for a couple of months so I guess it was worth it. As things stand today these hairs won't be touched by the cold steel or barbershop Fiskars for quite some time. And we can leave it at that and go on our merry ways..
--
I think I'm crazy but I'm 90% sure that by the end of the weekend I'll have registered to run a marathon in January. I need something to kick start my training mindset so giving myself four months to gear up will provide enough time to not kill myself and overtrain but also a short enough span that I'll need to start doing something ASAP. There's a marathon here on Sunday that finishes right close to where I work so I'll probably wander down and check it out. They were doing a bunch of setting up today so the bike racks I usually park at got moved to a couple parking spaces in the parking garage. I feel way to classy being able to park my bike under a roof for the next three days.
But I think it would be an alright goal. Marathons aren't about talent, just persistence. I feel like once I get going not wanting to embarrass myself will be enough motivation to hit the pavement most days of the week. I have a feeling I'll probably hurt myself and not be able to work for a few days after the run, but what the hell. I need something to do. Motivation as an adult sucks; I need to find a way to build activity into my life. Wish me luck. Cheers (and it's good to be back. Missed the few of you who have been missing my words...Maine-dogs I'll be back 207 from Oct 11-25. Fall in Maine. Can't wait. No proofread tonight, either. I'll try to look it over tomorrow...or the next day..)
-Rise sometime in the morning. If I work during the day then that's around 8. If I work at night then around 11.
-Put on ESPN2 for an hour or so on work days, to catch the Scott Van Pelt show highlights. These highlights are also generally the highlights of my day. SVP and Ryen Russillo are hilarious. Russillo is a New England guy,too, so that's always a solid.
-Go to work. If I work at night then I waste the day away by walking to the store to grab a couple of groceries or napping/tv watching, then go to work.
-Come home from work. Scour the internet for flights home for Liam's wedding and to see what happened in the world that particular day on ESPN, CNN, Fox News, and bbc. And Gmail and Facebook. And my work schedule. Watch Family Guy and Mike and Mike in the Morning, both of which begin at midnight.
-Fall asleep.Fucking pathetic, eh? I live on a beautiful island with beaches and sun and plenty to do...and for the most part I go to work or waste time until I go to work. What the shit is wrong with me?! I am a loser.
--
Not that blogging will make me cool. Just, why would I blog when I don't. do. anything. It's just not interesting. The things that have crossed my mind and made me laugh recently are Family Guy clips. And I guess I can only post so many Family Guy clips where the bulk of the post is THE clip, with nothing more for me to say other than, "I thought it was funny." The clips have no direct link to any aspect of my life besides me enjoying Family Guy and it's on every night at midnight so there's a pretty strong chance I'm awake to catch it. It's just become a part of my day. Most Family Guys have at least one clip that I find quite funny, which then makes me want to see if youtube has the clip, and if youtube has the clip then I think I should post it. Usually, however, I don't bother. A lot of the good ones aren't on there at all, or are only on there in foreign languages. Most scenes just aren't as funny when you can't understand what is being said.
--
I started watching The Informant! a couple of weeks ago. The plot was pretty lame but I found the inner monologue of Matt Damon's character hilarious. And he had a killer mustache, which was nice. Somewhere I read that someone had a "molestache." AKA molest-stache. AKA molester stache. I thought it was pretty funny. I hope some people consider my lip sweater to be working its way into the molestache category.
This was intended to be more about Damon's internal monologue being eerily similar to how I go through most of my days feeling like I talk to myself nonstop. Is this normal? Do other people constantly have ridiculous thoughts going through their heads that just drift from one starting point and slowly tangent outward and outward and outward. Thought entropy, really. Nonstop. Earlier this week the song "Your Woman" popped into my head at work. I knew it was sung by a group that had "white" in its name. White Town. I don't recall why I thought of this but the video is pretty neat, silent film style..
But anyways a couple of weeks ago I was leaving work after a day shift and I was walking through the shopping center/district that Hula Grill is on the edge of (bike parking is at the front of this center. Whaler's Village. Lot of classy stores (Louis V, Galleries, etc) mixed in with surf clothiers (Volcom, Quicksilver, Billabong, etc) mixed in with cheap ass "island items" stores that sell knick knacks and random ass shit. Kind of funky but it's a popular tourist spot as it's got a few hotels on either side of it and, of course, Hula Grill draws a crowd..) and I had my headphones on and a little jazz session going on in my head (not jazz as in jazz music, but jazz as in "impromptu performance." The D-backs coach at Bates would always say that when you intercept a pass or scoop a fumble that it was time for a jazz session. I thought it was silly, but catchy. He's the same guy who would also interrupt any time you fucked up and started to say "I thought it was.." with "You thought you farted but you shit your pants." He's a character..) with some boardshorts and a random ass t-shirt on (I think it was my new USA tie dye. If you haven't seen it yet I'll try to wear it more. Picked it up from the Mystical Emporium when I was home in July. It's swell..) headed back to my bike to ride off into the sunset when I passed some people and one of the guys said, "Hey, that's the guy from the Hula Grill."
Clearly my nappy ponytail and skeevy mustache attracts some attention, but it's nice to know that people comment about my steeze to their friends and family. Multiple servers have told me they've overheard their guests joke that I could be Ron Jeremy's younger brother. That one is a mixed blessing, as my goal in life is not to be a short, fat man. But clearly my upper lip has taken on a personality all its own. Multiple isn't ten, but three. Three's enough to know there's plenty of silly banter sparked by the goodness I've got going on. That's good enough for me. I guess this is just another step in the escalator that is my look. There have been some downs brought on by institutions of higher learning which claim to promote egalitarian perspectives within the liberal arts but are quite oppressive in regards to the hair length possessed by their young coaches. But hey, I got a mullet out of the deal for a couple of months so I guess it was worth it. As things stand today these hairs won't be touched by the cold steel or barbershop Fiskars for quite some time. And we can leave it at that and go on our merry ways..
--
I think I'm crazy but I'm 90% sure that by the end of the weekend I'll have registered to run a marathon in January. I need something to kick start my training mindset so giving myself four months to gear up will provide enough time to not kill myself and overtrain but also a short enough span that I'll need to start doing something ASAP. There's a marathon here on Sunday that finishes right close to where I work so I'll probably wander down and check it out. They were doing a bunch of setting up today so the bike racks I usually park at got moved to a couple parking spaces in the parking garage. I feel way to classy being able to park my bike under a roof for the next three days.
But I think it would be an alright goal. Marathons aren't about talent, just persistence. I feel like once I get going not wanting to embarrass myself will be enough motivation to hit the pavement most days of the week. I have a feeling I'll probably hurt myself and not be able to work for a few days after the run, but what the hell. I need something to do. Motivation as an adult sucks; I need to find a way to build activity into my life. Wish me luck. Cheers (and it's good to be back. Missed the few of you who have been missing my words...Maine-dogs I'll be back 207 from Oct 11-25. Fall in Maine. Can't wait. No proofread tonight, either. I'll try to look it over tomorrow...or the next day..)
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