Monday, January 31, 2005 missed connections
On Saturday, I had a long day at the beauty parlor, because the person who was supposed to work in the afternoon called out sick. I agreed to stay, although I know by now that the beauty parlor on a Saturday is only fun for the first six hours. After that, I feel like i'm just repeating myself.
Right around 3:00, at the beginning of that seventh hour, a man walked up to the desk. I said my big line, "Hi, do you have an appointment?" I'd said that about 90 times that day. He said, "Yes, at 3:00."
"What's your name?"
The man looked at me, and he said, "Son of Neckbone."
"Son of Neckbone, huh?" I said, and began to look in the appointment book.
Then he told me whatever his real name was, I said, "Have a seat," and then he got a haircut. Later he paid, and I fought and won against the urge to say, "So, what's your damage?" I didn't care.
No. I kid. I did care, and I care to this day. What was he getting at? I searched in Google, and it turns out that the phrase is the title of a Beastie Boys song. However, the song is instrumental, so there are no clues hidden in the lyrics. Why are people so weird? Was he trying to speak my language?
I knew these two dudes in highschool who would drive around and yell out at people, "Excuse me, you dropped something!" except instead of "something" they would say a specific, improbable item. "Excuse me, you dropped your Earth, Wind, and Fire box set." "Excuse me, you dropped your boobs."
When people would turn instinctively to look, the dudes would yell, "Neckbone!"
I was tempted to ask the man in the beauty parlor if he knew these dudes, but I figured he didn't. If anyone reading thise could begin to guess what the guy meant, or knows someone who habitually refers to himself as "Son of Neckbone" for entertainment purposes, plz advise.
posted by Frenz | 1/31/2005 01:27:00 AM
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Thursday, January 27, 2005 I realize I am taking a literary risk: so many words with the sound "ass" just a few sentences apart*
In my secret heart of hearts, I'm starting to question whether it's reasonable to keep posting here. Nothing_2_see.com. Idontleavemyhome.net. avoidantjamboree.tk. But I do, I do, I do leave my home. In the last few months especially, though, I'm starting to feel like the dumb crap I get up to when I go out into the world just isn't the internet's business.
It's all hilarious, though. Every least, last second of my life. I mean it when I say this. Here is one single example:
The other day a few housemates and I were travelling downtown by car, and at an intersection we pass a man wearing coveralls and--"Is that a crown?" one of my housemates asked? It looked like it. Something gold and shining with a silhouette like this o^o (more or less) was sitting on top of the man's head. Then he crossed the street in front of us, and we felt like such assholes for thinking he was wearing a crown. Duh: he was wearing a gold sequined cap in the style that soldiers and sailors and fastfood workers wear, and in front of the hat he had propped a pair of gold-framed sunglasses on his forehead. It was assinine to look at that and just assume he was wearing a crown.
*It just makes a lot of sense to me. posted by Frenz | 1/27/2005 11:16:00 PM
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Monday, January 24, 2005 blame it on my roots
One day I'll remember how to sleep through the night. Damn. I thought I had it down when I went to sleep around midnight, but it didn't take. My thumb is a nasty mess. I went sledding yesterday, and again today, as did other members of my household. We were out of hot chocolate, so we tried syrup in rice milk. Today we were nearly out of syrup, so I grated up a hershey bar and melted the shavings in whatever vegtable milk we had lying around, like Laura Ingalls Wilder would have done. Some of the rich cocoa taste came from the human blood of the idiot thumb of mine that I just kept throwing against the grater.
I had to do it. Had to make the cocoa. The injury was optional and unforseen. I've owed the last couple days or something like them to my nine-year-old self for years. I turns out I live a few blocks away from a fantastic sledding hill. We only have one sled, as a household, but we had some plastic inner tubes left over from this summer, and when we were at the sledding hill, we found a big piece of vinyl that works well. Also, it's Baltimore, so even in the snow, there's garbage lying around everywhere. The plastic back of an old TV didn't work. The reflective orange emergency barrel only worked if you were willing to get inside and roll, which was a little death-defying. The mattress was too unwieldy. Yesterday, before we left the slope, I saw some art students hop a fence to get an old office chair. I'm not sure how they did with that, but God bless their pioneer spirit.
S-N-O-W-D-A-Y.
I'm covered in bruises, and I expect more will show up tomorrow, but I rest (if I were able to rest) secure in the knowledge that I did the right thing.
posted by Frenz | 1/24/2005 05:53:00 AM
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Saturday, January 22, 2005 potpurri
Last night a friend instant messaged me to ask "Are you ready?"
I thought he meant "ready for Joan of Arcadia", and the answer to that was "Damn yes!" (although it later turned out to be a repeat) but it turned out he meant, was I ready for the Storm of the Century.
I can't even tell you. I don't even know. How does one prepare for a giant snowstorm? Does one go to the discount grocery store and spend a thousand hours waiting in line? I did that, but only because in this household, we have barbecue TVP sandwhiches with our Joan of Arcadia, and those rolls weren't going to buy themselves.
I have to leave for work in like, five minutes. Can you imagine?
For breakfast, I'm having cold oatmeal. Once it was warm, but that was before I'd forgotten about it for a while. I don't let mundane little things like that weigh on my mind. I devote my time and mental energy to crazy schemes instead. I have so many cooking right now that it's getting ridiculous, even to me.
For example: While my housemates were gone, I had a lot of free time, and the house was so quiet, so I kept the TV on a fair amount of the time. One night I put on Jeopardy for the first time in a year or so, and I watched it and I yelled along and I called the television contestants names when they didn't know the answers. At the end of the show, a voiceover told me "Hey, Washington, D.C. Area!" I said, "Yes?" "Go online and sign up for a spot at our contestant auditions. Remember, not everyone will get an appointmewnt." They had me. I do what TV says anyway, and I couldn't resist the idea that I might get something that someone else wouldn't. I'm awful. I love special provileges so much.
Anyway, I did get an appointment, and in a few weeks I get to go down to DC and take the written test. Someone "in the know" has told me that whether I win or lose, I still get a goody bag with pens and a t-shirt. This scheme is not so crazy afterall!
posted by Frenz | 1/22/2005 07:45:00 AM
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Thursday, January 20, 2005 100% freaky, 100% true
When I was at work at the beauty parlor the other day, the tip of my finger started to sting like I'd papercut it, but I hadn't been near any paper for a few minutes.
I looked down and saw a hair on the pad of my index finger, so I tried to brush it away and look for the cut. It didn't move. I looked closer, and I saw that the cut end of it had worked its way into my skin somehow. It was stuck. It had to really yank to get it out.
A few months ago, one of the stylists told a similar story. I didn't believe her: surely she'd had some kind of sore that the hair had fallen into, I thought. Now I know different and I myself am living proof. My finger tips do not have sores. They are beautiful. The best explanation I can think of was that there was a tornado inside the beauty parlor, and although I didn't notice it, the force of the winds was so great as to drive some dude's hair into my skin. I think that means we're married. posted by Frenz | 1/20/2005 02:20:00 AM
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Tuesday, January 18, 2005 What you are doing is wrong
Right now, I'm involved in a popularity contest with one of my housemates. She just joined a poular social networking site, which she had rejected for a long time. She called it "dumb," I think. Then when she was gone, sommeone else she knows made her a profile, and now she is addicted.
We sat in the living room with our computers, trying to categorize as many casual acquaintances as friends as we could. She is winning. She is eating my lunch. It is so sad.
I am sorry to end on a down note, internet. Maybe later I'll just post some cussin', which I think everyone can enjoy. posted by Frenz | 1/18/2005 09:14:00 AM
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Monday, January 17, 2005 reception
I'm like damn Garfield the damn cat, because I'm all bent because it's Monday. No: I wouldn't care under other circumstances, but I really don't feel like going to work today. Not that I would say a word against the place, but I'd rather be sleeping.
The other day I gave a customer a stern talking-to for the first time in a while, because he was late for his appointment. I don't usually do that, but I'd seen this guy outside. I sat and watched him through the glass front door as he had a long cell phone conversation and half of an allotted appointment time went by. I wasn't positive that he was a customer, so I didn't want to go out and say anything to him. When he finally came in, we had a little talk, and I think probably he's afraid of haircuts now. posted by Frenz | 1/17/2005 09:01:00 AM
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Saturday, January 15, 2005 Now more offensive?
Aw, damn, damn, damn. Livejournal is down, and it's like I lost a friend, a terribly neurotic friend, who, every day, ate an infinite amount of lunches, broke up with a million boyfriends, and was feeling "bummed". In the olden days, I had a Livejournal that caused me problems, because I was rather indiscreet. I rarely locked entries. Later, this caused hilarious misunderstandings. It also allowed several people who were convinced that I was bad person to cite written evidence that this was so. I deleted it. I am not bad. I am great, instead.
I read other people's livejournals, because sometimes I get suspicious that someone, somewhere is having a good time. Livejournal reassures me that they aren't. How did we get so upset?!?! as a generation lol.
Secrets revealed: a couple years after I deleted my dang trouble-making Livejournal, I started a new one, so that I had a blog, a livejournal, and a sober sense that my social life is clearly not all that it could be. I kept most of the entries locked, like they were "Cara Premium" content, and I reserved them for shit-talking, too much information, and anything I didn't want to talk about more publicly. Even still, I stayed pretty low-key. My most premium of premium content is reserved for real-time conversation with friends and loved ones, because it is a damn letdown to mention something really scandalous to someone and have them be like, "Oh, that? I saw that on the computer this morning. Anyway, let me tell you about this sandwich I just made."
Anyway, I keep typing this, then getting distracted, and I am bored of the internet now, so: New Year's Resolution: this blog: more talkin' shit: premium, suckers.
posted by Frenz | 1/15/2005 05:12:00 PM
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Friday, January 14, 2005 lazy, lazy
In a minute, I'm going to take the bus to work, like God didn't give me legs. I would like to thank the heavy rain for being a reasonable excuse.
posted by Frenz | 1/14/2005 09:13:00 AM
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Tuesday, January 11, 2005 Cara u star
The company that most recently provide my household with pizza uses boxes made by a company called "Caraustar", so every time there's a discarded pizza box lying around belly up, I feel like I should be wearing a discreet tiara or dodging photographers. I am from Virginia, where everyone has vanity license plates, so I'm prepared to find secret messages everywhere. Still, I cleaned our box garden out of the back yard the other day, and removed the Christmas lights. I left all the indoor tinsel where we flang it, though. It adds a touch of class, and I am lazy as hell.
Stardom has been weighing on my mind lately: I am so damn sick of not being famous. Luckily, I got a musical instrument the other day, and tonight I learned to play one of my all-time favorite songs, "Shave and a haircut (two bits)". By next summer, it will be time to tour Japan, I'm sure of it.
Tomorrow I work all day at the hair place, like a commoner, and I don't guess any talent scouts are going to come in at all. The closest we get to that is a stray progressive or two "keeping it real" out among the regular people. I can tell them by their sincere buttons and their handwoven apparel, by their earnest looks and tendency to be inappropriately caring. "How are you?" they ask me, and I say, "Fine thanks. How are you today." Then I hold my breath, because I'm always afraid one of them is going to follow up with "No, really: how are you?"
I don't know what I'd do.
Swear, maybe.
posted by Frenz | 1/11/2005 01:42:00 AM
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Saturday, January 08, 2005 just don't start screwing around with Carmen San Diego
The band I live with just called to see if I could find any traffic information for Nowheresville, Oregon. Evidently a tractor trailer overturned, and they are stuck on the one road that will get them where they need to be. "We have to move here," they said. "We'll send for our things."
They said they were just on the Oregon Trail.
Coulda told them that was trouble. That's pretty much the one thing I retained from middle school. If they were named after my 7th grade math teacher, they would be dead by now. posted by Frenz | 1/08/2005 06:26:00 PM
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Thursday, January 06, 2005 we are going to e-lope
This spring, I think I'm going to go to Mexico for a little while.
A friend of mine is living there, and she says good things. I speak very little Spanish, and even though I'm going to try to learn some in the next few months, I'll probably communicate by grunting and pointing. It's about time. What have words done for me lately? I'll memorize key phrases like, "I swear, I don't usually do this kind of thing."
I guess I'm going to have to rent my body to science a couple more times to pay for a plane ticket, but that's not so bad. Doing studies is tedious, but it's a periodic reminder that my cholesterol and blood pressure are normal, and I don't have HIV. It's almost like getting medical care!
posted by Frenz | 1/06/2005 02:57:00 AM
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Monday, January 03, 2005 History World
It turns out that everyone I've ever known still lives in Richmond, or at least they all came home for the holidays. Also, they all kept in touch. They know each other's cat's names, travel to see each other in whatever locations they've moved to if they haven't stayed rooted in place, and they've all dated each other.
Walking around certain neighborhoods is like a themepark of the past. I'm really pretty self-absorbed, and I'm kind of shocked that people's lives have continued without me. Still, it's weird as hell to just be out and around and be like, "Oh, it's that guy, and the child he created with his own germ plasm, who is now a toddler," or "There's so-and-so from my 9th grade creative writing class, and there's her giant wedding ring and her husband."
On New Year's Day, it was warm and sunny, and after everyone was bored with being spat upon by animals, we went down to the river. The James river runs through the center of Richmond, and most of it's banks are part of the city park system. The friends I was with and I walked out to Belle Isle, an island in the middle of the James where the teenagers go to smoke drugs and the regular people go to walk dogs and mountain bike and drag cranky children around.
It seemed like half the city was there, and everyone brought their dogs. I saw two dogs wrestle over one stick. It wasn't bad. There was Hollywood Cemetary up on the hill across the river on the north side, and all the dumb-ass condos someone put up over a field I used to like in the neighborhood where I went to highschool for a while, and birds and trees and the sounds of the rapids.
I got a little bit nostalgic, even though getting out of Richmond was the only dream I've ever followed with enough persistence and heart to make it work. On the other hand, eff that town. It's cool and fun not to be there. posted by Frenz | 1/03/2005 07:11:00 PM
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Sunday, January 02, 2005 like the noble llama, only smaller
New Year's Eve I was back In Richmond. There was a party, and that was OK. I burned my thumb a little, but maybe I shouldn't have been lighting off fireworks anyway. I hadn't planned to, but I was outside, and someone asked "Would you like to set off this firecracker?" I looked inside my heart, and the answer was "Damn yes", so I followed my heart, and injuries were minimal. Hellooo ought-five.
I was a little disappointed: there was no countdown at midnight. I'm not sure the old year officially ended at all.
After the party, some friends and I went out to Nowheresville County, where a friend was farm-sitting. I spent the first few hours of ought-five standing in a field, trying to convince some alpacas to come and be petted. When they came near me, it was hard not to scream: alpacas are shaped in a way that I'm not used to animals being shaped, and in the middle of the night at the beginning of a new year, when you (or I--I don't think you were there) are a little drunk and shivering, alpacas move like the awful little girl in The Ring, but larger, with long snaky necks and sinister heads.
In the daylight, it turned out that alpacas have big beautiful eyes and soft fluffy coats. It also turns out that when they're upset, they spit.
I'd known this on an intellectual level. I hadn't realized, though, how easy it is to upset an alpaca. If you get a handful of grain and start feeding it to one alpaca, that makes it pleased and happy, but all the others around it become jealous, and then they pin back their ears, cock back their heads, and spit something green and foul all over one's face.
Not my face, though. After the first member of our party got spit on, I backed away and let the alpacas fend for themselves.
Happy New Year.
posted by Frenz | 1/02/2005 11:08:00 PM
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