Long drive. Lost thoughts. Missing you.

• I miss singing in the car.
• I miss random nights of drunkenness.
• I miss getting tickled so hard I can hardly breathe.
• I miss coming home to you and Allen on the couch, you playing PGR, he watching (like I would).
• I miss smoke in my face.
• I miss coming home from work knowing you’d be there or knowing you’d be home soon.
• I miss stumbling home from the bars and waking up with two slices of Mesa in the frige, only a bite or two missing.
• I miss miserably losing playing cards.
• I miss having a T-Rex.
• I miss the fish face followed by the fins face.
• I miss microwave cakes with ice cream.
• I miss ice cream with peanut butter.
• I miss going to Al’s.
• I miss bantering with the boys.
• I miss two towels on the back of the bathroom door.
• I miss your curly hair all over the bathroom.
• I miss phone calls – or even the option of phone calls.
• I miss Heroes.
• I miss going through vodka and rum and gin and anything else on top of the frige like it wouldn’t be there the next day.
• I miss hearing about what went into the eggs.
• I miss knowing you’d eat whatever leftovers were in the frige.
• I miss making you laugh.
• I miss you making me laugh.
• I miss watching movies and the same ten episodes of Scrubs over and over again.
• I miss you hogging my mac… and my couch.
• I miss random pillow fights every night – making them not so random.
• I miss wondering if I know how to cry rather than crying all the time.
• I miss you so much it hurts sometimes.

Why does Hawaii have interstate highways?

After doing a little research on this one, there were many-an-explanation. However, I am not settled with any of the scientific explanations behind this mystery. Ergo, I present to you a very simple, and probably skipped over answer: Hawaii doesn’t want to be left out.

Think about it: 50 states. 48 continental, 2 drifters (Alaska and Hawaii).

Wikipedia says “there are four officially designated interstate highways in Alaska, even though Alaska is usually considered to have no interstates, and the routes do not connect directly to any highways in the contiguous United States.” However I am going to go right out and say I disagree. I’d argue the four interstates, while they go into Canadian provinces and not US states, should be counted. And with Alaska’s long tail-like appendage, it pretty much reaches Washington State anyway. Alaska has interstates.

Hawaii, on the other hand, is a bunch (literally) of islands. The state doesn’t border another, thanks to a large ocean, but does have different islands to hop to and from. But if I am not mistaken, there really aren’t large bridges connecting one island to another – so we couldn’t’ call them interisland highways. So should they just be called highways?

About.com told me “any highway built under the auspices of the Federal Aid Highway Act of 1956 and funded by the federal government is called an interstate highway, even if it doesn't cross state lines.” So then, the three interstates in Hawaii, H1, H2, and H3 are valid. Not only are they valid because they federally funded after 1956, but I’d say they are also valid because they “connect important military facilities on the island of Oahu”.

But, again, still not satisfied. I mean really… even though Hawaii is way out there in the “middle” of the ocean, it still is a recognized member of the United States. I can only imagine even with all the surfers, coconuts, hula shirts, and pig roasts they still probably feel a little left out when they want to say, go on a road trip. Can’t really state-hop in Hawaii. Nor can you drive down the highway and hop out and take a picture of your front in Minnesota and your back in Wisconsin (ok, not a good example, there’s a river there, but you get the point). While many are jealous of Hawaii and all its warm weather and tropical fruit and beauty, it certainly doesn’t have the “connection” with the continental states (and Alaska). They just want to be included. And really, you can’t blame Hawaii for that!

(Official Word Count: 426)

So now answer me this: can vegetarians eat animal crackers?

Quote of the Day

"I have just taken my beer drinking to the next level"

- Dan Hemken, after purchasing his new Sumbeam Beer Dispenser and realizing his beer will stay fresh for a month!

Another reason why I love Minneapolis...

...it can be 81* during the day and drop to 45* that same night.

An extra $0.50 really adds up...

I went down to do a load of laundry tonight. I thought I had put in the $1.25 the machine usually asks for. It made me put in another quarter. I thought maybe I didn't count right and went back upstairs. 36 minutes later, I went to put my one load of laundry into the dryer. I put in the $1.25 the machine usually requires, counting this time. Much to my dismay, the machine requested another quarter. I put it in and pressed "Start". I looked around at the other machines: $1.50. My lovely landlords uped the laundry prices $0.25 a load. That's an additional $0.50 to do ONE LOAD of laundry.

Bitches.

I hate paying to do my laundry.

If buttered bread always lands on the butter-side down and a cat always lands on its feet, what happens if you strap buttered bread to a cat's back?

Good question. Really good question. Mind-boggling, in fact. I thought about another experiment, similar to the bra one, but thought better of it in sparing a cat of many a drop and saving the money on a loaf of bread and stick of butter (I am going to New York in July, after all, and need to save every penny – there is no extra change for a loaf of bread). Then I really got to thinking about it, but even that didn’t help. I came up with outcome after outcome of all the different ways this could go down (no pun intended), and still, even with the below response, am not satisfied, nor do I think I ever will be. Ergo, you get what I have to offer here, as I know I will never fully get out what I want on this one.

If the bread is strapped to the cat’s back and the bread always lands butter-side down, not only do you lose your piece of buttered bread, you now have an injured cat. However, if the bread is strapped to the cat’s back and the cat lands on its feet, not only do you have a safe cat, you still have a delicious piece of buttered bread to enjoy (though it might have a little cat hair all over it).

Now, as far as which one wins – I think it’s got to be the cat. An IT intern sitting in on a meeting yesterday at work tried to explain to me the actual physics behind the cat falling and always landing on its feet, but I am a writer, not a scientist, so his words (though at the time I did kind of understand) didn’t stick with me long enough to remember (or care). I, on the other hand, would like the cat to win anyway – because really, when you look at it, not only is the cat winning, but you still get to enjoy your piece of bread. And who am I to turn down a piece of buttered bread anyway…

(Damn did I struggle with this one. With the number of drafts I went though and the time spent, at work of course, I probably could have edited an entire manual – Chinglish and all. Official Word Count: 345 *sigh*)

In case this did not provide enough bread talk, I ask you this: What was the best thing before sliced bread?

--

On a side note: I miss you. Shitty days, or in this case, weeks at work were always made so much better when I could come home and hang out.

Music is an amazing thing...

There's nothing like the feeling of a song that takes you back... to an exact moment that only a song or maybe a smell can take you. I love that music has that effect. I love that I can listen to a song, album, or artist in general and can go back in time...

Music can be good like that... but it can also haunt you like that. I love to share music -- one of my old roommates and I make evenings out of it - sitting around listening and yes, sharing music. I do it all the time. We all do. But what happens when you have a moment or experience music takes to you back to that you don't necessarily want to forget, but that you'd rather the music did not remind you of. (I'm not sure that came out clearly, but I'm leaving it at that.)

One of my favorite artists released a new album today. Naturally, after work I picked it up. This artist was introduced to me years ago. It reminds me of that time -- that relationship - and our relationship now. Amazing -- then and now. But I also shared it. Almost that pay it forward concept. As I listened to the new album on my rush-hour drive home, I had the initial "way back when" memories, but it also took me back to not so long ago -- and I am not sure it was a good thing. I don't regret sharing the artist -- everyone should at least give it a try -- nor do I regret the relationship during which I did the sharing -- I learned a lot from that relationship. But I can't help but wish I didn't think about it when I listened... that I only thought about before... when it only meant him and not... him.

So I guess what I want to know is -- how do we move beyond the music -- how do we listen to a song, an album, an artist and only see one side of it. I don't think it's possible. But if you find a way, let me know...

---

To you: no, I am not trying to hurt you any more than I know I already did and I'm sorry if that's the way this sounds. It's just what music does to me.

And to you: yeah yeah yeah, I'm fine and over it and know you know exactly what I am talking about with all that crap above.

And to you, who I know doesn't read this -- thank you for introducing me to this one and ultimately making me love, understand, and appreciate music on so many levels.

Motorcyclists...

Am I a bad person for hoping the motorcyclist falls off his motorcycle and cracks his head open when he has a helmet strapped to the back of his bike and NOT on his head?

I think not.

Flowers!

Friday night Harry came over after leading services at Hillel (which gave me time to have orgasmic cornbread at Redstone) and made dinner for my cousin and myself. Not only was the dinner (and company) amazing, Harry brought me flowers!

I can't even tell you the last time someone bought me flowers. It might have actually been that time, a good five years ago, when DJ bought be grocery store roses after we saw some dude buying flowers for his high school girlfriend for prom.

In any case, it made my night. Thanks for the flowers, Harry!

--

I had so much more to say about my weekend with Harry, the Cinco de Mayo party, my day with Allen, and drinks at Azia with two of my old co-workers from the U, but frankly, I am too tired to get it all out. It was an amazing weekend -- sad it's over. And sad graduation is soon taking two of my boys away (more to come on this subject later...).

So I bid you all goodnight as I head for bed with John Coltrane and Harry Potter 4.

How do blind people know when they are done wiping?

An interesting question when thought about, really. I mean, most of us seeing folk probably sit down on the crapper, spend our time doing our business, and then get to the wiping, looking at the soiled toilet paper every so often until we see there is nothing left coming off the tush and leaving its mark on the toilet paper. However, for the blind, they really can’t do this – no way of “seeing” what they are leaving behind (no pun intended) on the toilet paper.

Though we seers have become accustomed to looking at the toilet paper, I presume if we wiped with our eyes closed, we’d still be able to tell if there was shit left on our ass cheeks and would know to continue the wiping process. I believe the blind know they are done wiping because they can feel no shit on their asses any longer. Something to think about the next time we all sit down to go #2. (Report back – I’d be interested to know if we all can actually feel the poop on our butts before and during the wiping process.)

When consulting with Nickolas, he made a good point: their fingers are fine-tuned to sensitivities like Braille. They just know. He makes a good point. Blind folk really are amazing feelers. They read entire novels, newspapers, signs, and placards all with their fingertips and little bumps. Their fingertips must just be able to sense their asses are clean.

However, if we want to take the Sheryl Crow stance on the subject, the blind (and according to Sheryl Crow, all of us as not to use too much toilet paper – I mean come on, while she preaches we should use one square of toilet paper per sitting, she probably uses more than one square anyway) could use a bidet. That way, with all that water pressure, their asses would be rid of shit and they wouldn’t have to worry about the wiping and the checking of the toilet paper.

So the blind… either they feel it on their asses, use their super-fingertip sensors, or use bidets. I’ll leave you to choose one of the three as the most probably.*

Feces are always fun to write about (and talk about – just the other night I was out with some people where a friend was telling a story about almost shitting his pants – literally – it was so funny and quite the story). And now, for you my traveling friend, why are there flotation devices under airline seats instead of parachutes?

* G-d-willing they get it all. I can only imagine the scent that would stream from someone who really doesn’t get it all. I bet it would smell a lot like Sklansky or Roommate Tom. And for those of us who were graced with their odors, we know it wasn’t pretty.