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Life is only what you wonder.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Catching Up With Wonder Boy

Whever I'm feeling kind of blah, out of sorts, totally emotionless and futile, I put some fun music in the CD player and I dance and sing along.
(Today's selection was Jamiroquai.)
The living room is my stage and I'm the star of the show. I only have an audience of one, my dog Rico, and that's just how I like it.
And I can't sing. At all.
And I dance like a white boy.
I'm sure Rico would have covered his ears if he could, and he had this look on his face that said,
"Yep, Daddy's gone crazy again."
I haven't gone crazy. Au contraire, mon frere! This is what keeps me sane.
This is my therapy.

I'm in a good mood today because it's my second day off in a row. For the past two weeks I've been working my off days and working double shifts to make extra money. Plus, people call out at the drop of a hat and I'm the go-to person when they're in a jam.
"Jimmy, three people called out and we're short-staffed. Can you come in?"
And I'm the boy who can't say "no", so I end up going in whether I want to or not.
I made a promise to myself that I wasn't going to work on my days off this week, even if the restaurant was on fire. I was determined to side-button any calls from the Occupation, but luckily I haven't gotten any.
Will wonders never cease?

I'm trying to plan something for the husband's and my 7-year anniversary, which is coming up April 1st. We haven't gone on a trip in awhile, and both of us need to get out of Dodge, even if it's just for a little while. Just pack up and get out of Baltimore, out of Maryland, and away from all of this and go . . . someplace else.
He suggested going to Canada again, which sounds good to me. We've been to Montreal, so I think we should go somewhere else in Canada. Niagra Falls, maybe?
We'll just have to see what happens.

We acquired a new purchase not too long ago, that I'm asbsoloutely loving: a huge flat plasma screen TV. The cool thing is you can hang it on the wall like a picture.
The TV, plus the surround-sound speaker system makes going to the theater almost obsolete. And the Wonder Woman episodes (I have all three seasons of the TV show on DVD) look fabulous on it, too.
I swear, technology is wonderful.

Speaking of technology, I just found out people can send photos direct to my mobile phone via email.
If you happen to feel like sending me any interesting photos, send 'em to: wonder_boy[at]pm[dot]sprint[dot]com.

Anyway . . . What else is new? Let's see.
Oh, yeah, as for my recovery I hope you'll be pleased to know that I am almost back to normal. The slight puffyness that remained has all gone away, and I'm starting to get the feeling back in my face.
Nobody looking would ever know that anything had happened.
So thankfully, everything's going to be alright.
Now, more than ever, I feel like I have a guardian angel looking out for me. Otherwise, I don't think I'd be here.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Waiting Is

Just saw the movie Waiting on DVD. As a matter of fact, I liked it so much I bought it.
This movie, while it does egaggerate some things, is totally what it's like to wait tables. That's what makes it so funny, because it's so true.
From the waitress who's sweet as honey while at her tables ("A hot fudge sundae? Wow! That does sound good! I'll be right back with that for you!") and gripes about them when she reaches the kitchen ("Like that fat fucking bitch needs to be eating dessert!") to what could happen to your food if you treat your server like shit. I won't tell you what they do to this woman's meal, but it's totally revolting and it underscores the cardinal rule of dining in restaurants: Never, ever fuck with people who handle your food.

What happens when the waitstaff is forced to sing the "birthday song" is totally dead-on accurate. When we see people with baloons that say "Happy Hirthday" we all groan, because we know that we're gonna have to perform like monkeys without the benefit of an organ grinder.
And just like it's portrayed in the movie, we all hate waiting on foreigners.

If you've ever waitied tables in a restaurant, you will totally relate to this movie.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Love Is All Around

After working like a dog (not literally) I finally get some time to spend with my honey tonight.
What's on the agenda? A movie, some cocktails, and then some "quality time".

I'll post more later when I get time.

Happy V-Day!

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Show Me The Money

It all started, innocently enough, we me doing my (and the husband's) taxes.

I'm terrible at math, don't have a head for numbers at all (if I lost my telephone book I'd be SOL, 'cause I don't have anyone's number memorized) and I barely squeaked by passing algebra in high school.
I can do math (simple math like adding, subtracting, multiplying, and division) with a calculator, and I could do it with a paper and pencil if I have enough time, I just don't care for it.

I never got the point of algebra, anyway.
If you have 10 apples, Leon and Chico each give you 3 apples and Tyrone and Rufus each give you 12 apples, how many apples do you have? That's addition, which I understand. (I don't understand why Leon, Chico, Tyrone, and Rufus are giving away apples, though, but that's neither here nor there.)
With algebra you get an equation like:
(2 x Y) + (24/6) = 28
and you have to figure out what Y is.
It hurts my head.

But I digress.

Taxes aren't that difficult to do.
They give you a handy dandy instruction book and all you need are the forms, your w-2s, a pencil and a pen, and a stapler to staple your W-2 to the form. Oh, yeah, and a calculator.

So I did 'em. Took me about a half-hour to do both me and the husband's State and Federal.
So I'm at work, and everyone's talking about their taxes.

"I haven't gotten around to taking mine to H&R Block yet."
"I took mine to Jackson-Hewitt."
I'm getting my brother-in-law to do mine. He's an accountant."
"I did mine yesterday," I say.
"Where'd you take yours, Jimmy?"
"I didn't take them anywhere," I replied, "I did them myself. Mine and G.'s. Took about a half an hour."
Stunned silence. Like it's a big deal or something.
Jimmy did his own taxes! Oh My God! Alert the media!

I'm not about to go to a tax preparer, who's going to take a big chunk of money out for doing what I could easily do myself, you know? I know if you go to H&R block you get your refund the very same day, but there's no hurry. I can wait and get everything that's coming to me.

Well, when word got around that Jimmy can do taxes, everyone was coming around asking me to to their taxes for them.
So I'm going to do them. Partially because I'm a nice guy, but mostly because I'm charging a nominal fee for my services.

There's no such thing as a free lunch.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Wonder Boy Approved

Mysterious Skin
    (2004) Starring: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Brady Corbet, Michelle Trachtenberg and Elizabeth Shue
As to not spoil the plot, all you really need to know is this:
At age eight, in their small Kansas hometown, Neil McCormick and Brian Lackey both played on the same Little League baseball team.
Ten years later, the boys couldn't be more different.
Neil (Joseph gordon-Levitt) has become a cold and hardened teenage hustler, while Brian (Brady Corbet) has become a shy introvert obsessed with the idea that he was abducted by aliens.
When these two paralell lives eventually intersect, both boys discover their haunting shared past.

And this:
This movie is as brilliant as it is disturbing and thought-provoking. Josph Gordon-Levitt's portrayal of Neil, "who has a bottomless black hole where his heart should be", is nothing short of amazing, and Brady Corbet's Brian who is desperately trying to delve into the secrets of his own past is equally good in his role. Elizabeth Shue, is also very well cast as Neil's free-spirited mom.

It should be noted that Mysterious Skin is not for the squeamish, as it contains some very unsettling and shocking elements: a terrifying rape scene, a scene involving fireworks, and the disturbing revelations at the end when Brian's "lost hours" are finally brought to the surface -- just when you think it can't possibly get any worse, it does.

In conclusion, this film is a gripping, moving film that definitely isn't for everyone, but is unquestionably worth seeing for it's performances.
Highly reccomended.

Have you seen this movie? Tell me what you thought of it, using the comments link below.

Friday, February 03, 2006

I Hate People That Hate

Prejudice is such an ugly thing.
And it matters little who that prejudice is directed towards; skin color, gender, age, sexual orientation, it's pretty much all the same.
I tend to get more of the skin-color varity than any other.
I don't hear "faggot!" yelled at me -- I get "Hey, whitey!" which comes from the neighborhood I live in. I've been called every derogatory name for a white person you can think of: the aformentioned "whitey", "cracker", "whitebread", among others -- and even "honky" which, God help me, reminds me of The Jeffersons every time I hear it.
(By the way, isn't "honky" a little outdated? It's kind of like saying "groovy". Do people still say "groovy"? I guess somebody somewhere does. It's just a little odd, that's all.)

Anyway, if Baltimore City is 70% black, that makes me the minority. If you're walking down Lexington Market and you see a white boy, it just might be me, so say Hello.

Anyway, I've come to terms with it. Don't like it much, but what can I do?
Choose your battles wisely, as my grandpappy used to tell me.

Which brings me to the incident that happened just last night. I worked a long tiresome day and I was looking forward to getting home and soaking my aching feet (along with the rest of me) in a long hot bath. G.'s got the car and he was helping a friend of his with something, so he couldn't pick me up. I whip out my handy-dandy cell phone and call for a taxi, The Green Sedan Service, which is the one I always use. Normally, they're very efficient and I get picked up within ten minutes, but the dispatcher told me that half the drivers called out and the wait would be at least an hour, if not more. Hell, I could walk home in that amount of time, not that I was prepared to.
So I call a another taxi, and they said they be right there as long as I didn't mind sharing the taxi with someone else who was going in the same direction. No problem as long as I get home, you know?
So the taxi arrives and I get in and I'm sharing it with another white guy and the driver is also white.
Anyway, I tell him where I'm going and he says, "You live there?" and I'm like, "Uh, yeah."
"Awful dark around there, isn't it?"
ding ding ding The red flag goes up.
"What do you mean 'dark'?" I ask, hoping against hope that he means they need more streetlights and lampposts around there. No such luck.
"Lotsa darkies 'round there. Useta be it was a good neighboorhood, years ago, then the negroes came and took it over."
And there it was. Prejudice right there in my face. I guess he thought that because eveyone in the taxi was white, he could say whatever he wanted.
No way, not on my watch.
"People are people," I said, "I don't look at people as colors. It's not the color of your skin that makes you good or bad, it's the things that you do." He realized right quick that I wasn't going to stand for any more of that kind of talk, because he didn't say anything else the enire trip home.

I walked through the door with a heavy heart, thinking how horrible this world is, and how most people delight in their hate and their inhumanity to one another so much that peace and harmony will never, ever be possible.
I've said, "My faith in human nature has taken such a beating, I'm surprised it still exists" before. Yes, it still exists, but it seems to diminish with every passing day.

I will not give up hope, though.