I’m one of the only native English speakers in my neighborhood. Every so often I’m reminded of that fact when I see someone participating in any number of exotic activities, ranging from Quinceañeras to mariachi concerts. Today it was a woman carrying a laundry bucket on her head down Princeton Street.
Word on the streets is we’re in for one heck of a storm indeed! As I type, Hurricane Irene is laying into the the Carolinas like Ike Turner on a bender, and there’s an element of excitement in the air that I haven’t felt since “What About Bob?” was released into theaters.
That said, I’m growing concerned with the low intelligence level of our society. CNN just played a video of people wiping stores clean of food and water. The food I get, but why are they buying water? We’re expecting a hurricane that’s going to be dumping 10-18” of rain on the city over the course of 24 hours. If anything people should be stocking up on buckets and straws. You wouldn’t buy matches if you were expecting wildfires would you? Same logic applies here.
I, on the other hand, have amassed all the right provisions to weather the storm in style from the comfort of my apartment when it arrives in the Northeast.
A division of my company which works closely with Girl Scouts of America is throwing a celebration today in the office bar, and has posted this sign in the elevators to inform us of a Girl Scout themed drink. I for one have long thought that tequila and Samoas go hand in hand, and applaud the creativity.
Once upon a time, I got too drunk at a work function, and blacked out. The “once upon a time” was actually last year, and blackout was foggy, as these things tend to be. The morning after, however, was quite memorable. I stumbled out of bed at 7am and was pleasantly surprised by the lack of any prominent bruises or open wounds. I hurriedly checked my phone history in an effort to piece together the events of the previous evening. I hadn’t sent any inappropriate text messages, and the only call I made was at 2am to “Chinese Dragon”, which explained the Kung Pao stains on my shirt. I was over the moon that I hadn’t done anything self destructive, until I went downstairs to the kitchen and found this:
I was in shock staring at it. Still drunk, I pulled myself together long enough to search my apartment for the leg’s owner, but to no avail. I’ve been known to panic if I hear the garbage truck coming before I’ve had a chance to bring out my bags, so finding a woman’s prosthetic leg post-blackout was enough to put me in a tail spin. My immediate thought was that in some sort of belligerent fit, I’d taken this leg from it’s owner and run off, or worse, beaten her with it first. I’m by no means a violent man, but as I stood there staring face to toe with what was once a woman’s leg, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
I discreetly texted everyone I’d been out with to see if they remembered anything about me meeting a one legged girl, but they all seemed more concerned with what had happened to themselves and were of no help. I was a wreck all day, until 4pm when my roommate Josh texted me back. “hey, that’s mine, I’ll explain when I get back”. As I breathed a heavy sigh of relief for my future, I couldn’t help wondering why he had this leg. That evening when I returned from work, he told me that the leg had belonged to a former patient at the nursing home he worked for. She’d passed away several years ago and the leg was left abandoned in s closet. The day before, the closet was cleaned and the leg was going to be thrown out. “But I saved it for us!” Josh told me excitedly. “For what!?" I asked, "This apartment is haunted enough without you bringing dead ladies’ prosthetic body parts into it. Get rid of this!”. “Fine” he lied, “I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” The next day I returned from work to find the leg standing on the kitchen. The nub opening had been filled with dirt and a flowering plant had been put inside. “Like it?” Josh asked? I wanted to be mad but as I just couldn’t. “YES!” I exclaimed, “It’s perfect”.
Well well well, it appears as though our friends the Soviets are up to their old shenanigans again. Just as our nation has cut funding to the finest space organization since Star Fleet, the commies have decided to sweep the world off its feet and announce a manned mission to the Red Planet; Mars. Well Mother Russia, she’s all yours! That’s right, I’ve seen how this story plays out and I don’t want our country to have any part of it. You’ll land your troops and force your anti-capitalist rhetoric down the Martian’s throats, but something tells me a group of rebellious high school students will get the better of you, and save their planet from the horrors of communism and beet rations. Anyhow, Mars is yesterday’s news; our country has bigger things in mind believe you me. We’re sending a space boat to cruise along the majestic methane seas of Titan. (http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn20459-nasa-floats-titan-boat-concept.html)…we’ll send you a postcard on dusty old Mars.
PS Europe, don’t think I didn’t see your name in there. You’re a whore of a continent and I wish you everything you deserve in your new, misguided relationship.
I showed this clip to my team today to let them know I mean business. I also thought it was important to show them Alec Baldwin’s range as an actor, for obvious reasons.
Well, it’s business drunk, it’s like rich drunk. Either way, it’s legal to drive.
—Jack Donaghy, 30 Rock