Seduced by the British
really my life has just been a myriad of occurences in the
past couple of weeks. nothing like a rambling journal entry
to chronicle it all!
a couple of weeks ago i met a photographer for our upcoming
wedding. he was this british dude who was pretty cool until
he made me sit through a montage of wedding photos.
essentially this was his pet-product in which he spliced
photographs with cheesy music for couples. dear jesus, i
sat with this man for about 15 minutes, watching some couple
getting married to some cheesy songs. around 11 minutes
into it Michael Bolton's "when a man love's a woman" came
on. i was afraid to look over my shoulder as i was sure the
man was by now undressed, draped in velvet and ready to
this morning i got up at 5:30 in the morning to get to work,
all because i wanted to avoid traffic. well i got fucking
stuck anyhow. so there i was stuck in traffic and i glanced
to my right, just in time to see a dude taking a hit off of
a bowl. he stared at me and i stared at him.
now a couple of things ran through my mind.
'what the fuck, did i see right?' followed by,
'puff, puff, give nigga!'
i guess he had it right, i mean who's gonna call the cops on
you in a traffic jam? and plus, you can scope out if there
are any cops around.
i went to cvs this mornign around 8 and the dude in front of
me bought $117.56 of toilet paper. now. i want to believe
that he bought it for a company or what not, but christ,
what an embarrassing task.
of course i shouldn't speak. my list was:
75 sq ft of aluminum foil
1 oatmeal creme pie
2 tab energy drinks.
i got a call around 11 that went like this:
"is this nick?"
"we are from the credit bureau and we have found a
suspicious incident in your history."
"sir, is there any reason you can think of that one might be
suspicious of your current address?"
so right about here i panicked. fuck i can list about 57
reasons why anyone would be suspicious of me and only two
don't involve the federal government.
"who are you?"
"yes, but who do you work for?"
"the credit bureau."
"there is no CREDIT BUREAU, what entity are you a branch of?"
"fine then sir, you have been approved."
"good bye now!"
one last note. i invented that god damned contraption that
they are planning on using for car chases now. you know,
where they shoot what looks like a plunger onto the escaping
car and let a gps system follow it?
god damn it!!! i asked myself that same fucking question
when i watched cops a while back. why the fuck don't they
just use a gps?????
and that fucking thing where you can get dvds while chillin'
at mcdonalds'? my idea too!!!
okay here is an innovation i will spout to the public (and i
swear to christ someone will profit off of this but that's
okay i'll just feel more like a modern day bob dylan):
how about lining homes and all public buildings with heavy
rope along the staircases instead of banisters?
why do i say this?
well for the past two weeks, my co-workers have been
bringing their under 5 year old children to work cos they
are sick. i noticed that these children have quite a time
hanging onto the banisters as they walk down our stairs,
which makes sense as they are designed for adults.
what if you replace banisters all over with those heavy
knotted ropes you usually see in cheesy seafood restaurants
like red lobsters? would grown-ups mind? they'd get the
fuck used to it when they don't have dead 5 year olds in
and why is this more beneficial? well imagine a thick rope
in your mind, i don't know the correct terminology, but it
is made up of what i like to call, "rungs". these are
basically separate ropes that are entertwined to create the
single large rope. i remember these things because my
grandfather taught me how to tight nautical knots. well.
imagine the "fabric" of a rope. it is:
a.) very coarse (meaning not slick like a banister)
b.) very grippable, which is the point (as my grandfather
taught me) as many times you throw a rope to a sailor so as
to pull him in.
now, my conclusion.
wouldn't the ability to hang on be the one thing you want
your child to do? i mean shit you can't tell me that a
child (or an old geezer for that matter) wouldn't have a
better chance of not snapping his neck on a coarse, quite
gripeable material, than a slick banister.