What's it like to be a 20-something male with no particular plans on a summer Saturday? Peek through this secret doorway for a look at my morning.
After sleeping in until 8:30 a.m., consuming more coffee than the Folgers family and completing an abundance of important work online (translation: checking fantasy baseball lineups and reading up on new movies) I determine that it's time to actually be productive. Alas, my own incompetence attempts to halt things. When dressing after my shower (please note: I do dress after my shower, not before or during... I find that lifestyle choice to be an important one) a grab a pair of socks, only to discover that said pair does not match. It seems that, on occasion, the tedious nature of matching socks renders my mind to a barely-functional state. Thus, I end up with socks paired despite their non-matching nature. I am not yet worried about this boredom-inspired brain flubbing, however I might grow concerned if such carelessness carries into the realm of walking down long flights of stairs or driving on straight roads.
The first stopping after leaving my apartment is the ATM just outside. For some reason, I feel compelled to have cash in my pocket today. It's as if my conscience really wants to have something to frighteningly rip out of my pocket if I get mugged on the mean streets of MHK... That or I'll consider stopping by a friendly garage sale if I happen upon one. The ATM sits next to a laundromat, where I have to circle around a group of six middle-aged women sitting just outside the door. A normal person might assume that these ladies are simply waiting for their laundry to wash and/or dry and decided to enjoy the not-yet-blistering temperatures of this Saturday morning. On the other hand, as I punch in my pin number at the ATM I wonder to myself whether these women are actually in some sort of Oprah-inspired gang. I know her show is now off the air, but did she start some sort of movement among the moms of the world as she signed off? Am I going to be beaten with hardbound editions of her favorite books once I get my cash? Not even Dr. Phil's hokey advice can help me at this point.
I escape from the threatening horde of women with no injuries and make it to my car. It's at this point that I'm reminded about a quirk with my vehicle that has become all too apparent lately. You see, when it rains, the rear door on the passenger side of my car literally holds water, which later drips out of the door at the pace of some sort of water-torture device. It's an odd experience to open my car door after a rain storm and hear water sloshing as if Big Van Vader had just belly-flopped into my bathtub.
My destination, after setting off in the SS Minnow, is Best Buy. It's there that I am privileged to take part in the standard conversation one always falls into when they are shopping for nothing in particular.
Employee: Hi. How are you?
Derek: I'm fine. How are you doing?
Employee: Good. Can I help you find anything.
Derek: Nope. Just looking around.
Employee: Okay. Well let me know if I can help.
Derek: You bet.
This one-act play is not an unusual one. Again, it's one I take part in nearly every time I go to Best Buy. What made today different was that I played the role of Derek* three different times, each with the same overanxious employee opposite me. Whether this guy considered the first two interactions rehearsals for the grand finale, I'll never know. I do know, however, that I should have decided to mess with the guy a bit by the third time. "Yes, you can help. Where's the Betamax section?"
*I do a pretty stellar imitation of myself.
I walk away from the electronics store with nothing new to my name, as I've become rather good at talking myself out of impulse purchases in recent years. Yes, Blazing Saddles is a classic film, but the fact that I already own it on DVD probably means I don't need to add it to my Blu-Ray library. With my watch reading 11:30 and my stomach rumbling (apparently coffee and vitamins are not a complete breakfast... weird) I decide to check out a Chinese restaurant that opened recently. The restaurant features "Express" as part of it's name, so I figure that the drive-thru might be the way to go, meaning I can then eat my lunch at the park. Alas, I soon discover that this eatery must be train-themed on the inside, as the drive-thru service certainly does not bring the word express to mind. As I wait, and wait, and wait for my food, I begin to wonder whether my food is actually being delivered from China. Whatever the case, it arrives and I head to the park, where I intend to eat in my pirate ship of a car with the windows rolled down.
I don't know about you, but when I eat Chinese food, I avoid chopsticks and stick to a fork. Alas, those who prepped my order did not include a fork when they passed it through the drive-thru window. Time for chopsticks. I can probably handle the chunks of sweet-and-sour pork with them. Unfortunately, chopsticks aren't included, either. There's no fork, no spoon, no spork, no knife, no chopsticks, nothing but a napkin. Being the absent-minded person I am, I forgot to shove any cutlery or flatware into my pockets as I left my apartment, meaning I am face with the choice of eating with my hands in the middle of the public park or driving home to eat in a civilized fashion.* With fear of being arrested for public indecency (I would have made that much of a mess), I choose the latter.
*Term used loosely. I'm not sure eating on my couch while watching ESPNews can be considered civilized by many.
As I prepare to eat, I realize that this restaurant already has two strikes against it: slow service and inability to provide utensils essential to the eating process. If the food is no good, the place has struck out. Luckily, the pork comes through. It's good. Very good. Sure, there are too many onions included, but I've become quite accustomed to picking around those in several dishes. I eat my fill, stuffing myself to the point where I'm unsure that I can move off my couch. At that point, it's fortune cookie time.
My fortune: Good ideas will spring forth naturally from your mind in the coming week.
... I think there might be something to that fortune. I did fit in a nap this afternoon, after all.
After sleeping in until 8:30 a.m., consuming more coffee than the Folgers family and completing an abundance of important work online (translation: checking fantasy baseball lineups and reading up on new movies) I determine that it's time to actually be productive. Alas, my own incompetence attempts to halt things. When dressing after my shower (please note: I do dress after my shower, not before or during... I find that lifestyle choice to be an important one) a grab a pair of socks, only to discover that said pair does not match. It seems that, on occasion, the tedious nature of matching socks renders my mind to a barely-functional state. Thus, I end up with socks paired despite their non-matching nature. I am not yet worried about this boredom-inspired brain flubbing, however I might grow concerned if such carelessness carries into the realm of walking down long flights of stairs or driving on straight roads.
The first stopping after leaving my apartment is the ATM just outside. For some reason, I feel compelled to have cash in my pocket today. It's as if my conscience really wants to have something to frighteningly rip out of my pocket if I get mugged on the mean streets of MHK... That or I'll consider stopping by a friendly garage sale if I happen upon one. The ATM sits next to a laundromat, where I have to circle around a group of six middle-aged women sitting just outside the door. A normal person might assume that these ladies are simply waiting for their laundry to wash and/or dry and decided to enjoy the not-yet-blistering temperatures of this Saturday morning. On the other hand, as I punch in my pin number at the ATM I wonder to myself whether these women are actually in some sort of Oprah-inspired gang. I know her show is now off the air, but did she start some sort of movement among the moms of the world as she signed off? Am I going to be beaten with hardbound editions of her favorite books once I get my cash? Not even Dr. Phil's hokey advice can help me at this point.
I escape from the threatening horde of women with no injuries and make it to my car. It's at this point that I'm reminded about a quirk with my vehicle that has become all too apparent lately. You see, when it rains, the rear door on the passenger side of my car literally holds water, which later drips out of the door at the pace of some sort of water-torture device. It's an odd experience to open my car door after a rain storm and hear water sloshing as if Big Van Vader had just belly-flopped into my bathtub.
My destination, after setting off in the SS Minnow, is Best Buy. It's there that I am privileged to take part in the standard conversation one always falls into when they are shopping for nothing in particular.
Employee: Hi. How are you?
Derek: I'm fine. How are you doing?
Employee: Good. Can I help you find anything.
Derek: Nope. Just looking around.
Employee: Okay. Well let me know if I can help.
Derek: You bet.
This one-act play is not an unusual one. Again, it's one I take part in nearly every time I go to Best Buy. What made today different was that I played the role of Derek* three different times, each with the same overanxious employee opposite me. Whether this guy considered the first two interactions rehearsals for the grand finale, I'll never know. I do know, however, that I should have decided to mess with the guy a bit by the third time. "Yes, you can help. Where's the Betamax section?"
*I do a pretty stellar imitation of myself.
I walk away from the electronics store with nothing new to my name, as I've become rather good at talking myself out of impulse purchases in recent years. Yes, Blazing Saddles is a classic film, but the fact that I already own it on DVD probably means I don't need to add it to my Blu-Ray library. With my watch reading 11:30 and my stomach rumbling (apparently coffee and vitamins are not a complete breakfast... weird) I decide to check out a Chinese restaurant that opened recently. The restaurant features "Express" as part of it's name, so I figure that the drive-thru might be the way to go, meaning I can then eat my lunch at the park. Alas, I soon discover that this eatery must be train-themed on the inside, as the drive-thru service certainly does not bring the word express to mind. As I wait, and wait, and wait for my food, I begin to wonder whether my food is actually being delivered from China. Whatever the case, it arrives and I head to the park, where I intend to eat in my pirate ship of a car with the windows rolled down.
I don't know about you, but when I eat Chinese food, I avoid chopsticks and stick to a fork. Alas, those who prepped my order did not include a fork when they passed it through the drive-thru window. Time for chopsticks. I can probably handle the chunks of sweet-and-sour pork with them. Unfortunately, chopsticks aren't included, either. There's no fork, no spoon, no spork, no knife, no chopsticks, nothing but a napkin. Being the absent-minded person I am, I forgot to shove any cutlery or flatware into my pockets as I left my apartment, meaning I am face with the choice of eating with my hands in the middle of the public park or driving home to eat in a civilized fashion.* With fear of being arrested for public indecency (I would have made that much of a mess), I choose the latter.
*Term used loosely. I'm not sure eating on my couch while watching ESPNews can be considered civilized by many.
As I prepare to eat, I realize that this restaurant already has two strikes against it: slow service and inability to provide utensils essential to the eating process. If the food is no good, the place has struck out. Luckily, the pork comes through. It's good. Very good. Sure, there are too many onions included, but I've become quite accustomed to picking around those in several dishes. I eat my fill, stuffing myself to the point where I'm unsure that I can move off my couch. At that point, it's fortune cookie time.
My fortune: Good ideas will spring forth naturally from your mind in the coming week.
... I think there might be something to that fortune. I did fit in a nap this afternoon, after all.
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