Monday, December 22, 2003

...so...we gotta wait until 4:30 today to close out Ye Olde Student Affairs and head out for Ye Olde Holidays.

And...I'm bored.

Sunday, December 21, 2003

So, it's been a couple of days. I would lie and say that I've been busy what with my LIFE and all, but that'd be utter crap. I've just been procrastinating. Sue me.

******

Today, I cleaned my apartment. And we're talking full-on cleaning -- the floors were mopped and waxed; the countertops were all scrubbed; the kitchen sinks are now scrubbed out; the over top got scrubbed clean; lots of dusting on the wood objects was done; laundry -and- dry cleaning taken care of in one fell swoop; and I even cleaned out that second spare junk closet in my bedroom. Now I can see the floor in there. The only thing I neglected to clean was the bathtub. But that's because Cricket will be getting a bath tonight, and I didn't want to clean it before she got cleaned. That would just be, oh, dumb.

The reason I got all Crazy Cleaning Guy is because when I leave here for the holidays, I don't want to come home to dirt. It's weird, yeah, but I'd rather spend a day BEFORE I travel getting everything all nice and shiny than to have to deal with dirt when I return. It's a me thing. I'm kooky like that.

******

So, while I was cleaning, I decide to drink the coffee a friend gave me for the holidays. However, she made a TERRIBLE faux pas. See, she's known me for almost three years now. She should be well-versed in my coffee drinking habits at this point. However, she bought me the one style of coffee which I don'tt trust: flavored coffee. This whole Hazelnut, Irish Cream, blah blah blah...I don't TRUST flavored coffee, because there are no flavored coffee plants. If I want my coffee to have a chocolate taste, I'll bloody well PUT cocoa in it, thank you very much. Yet, she buys me...Peppermint flavored coffee. Peppermint. --- so, in the spirit of the holiday season, I opt to try it. And Pepperminty is isn't. More like UGH flavored. I never knew that coffe could taste THIS bad, especially coffee that I make. I know the old adage of a poor workman blaming tools and all, but I just really had NO raw materials to go with here.

Therefore, Sonny's gonna have to make a better pot tonight to rid the taste of this putrid java from my memory.

Sunday, December 14, 2003

STUDENTS: gone.

ILLNESS: gone.

MENTAL STATE OF BEING: gone.

BLOGGING: on.

New rants to come Monday.

Friday, December 12, 2003

Just woke up to go pee. I can not feel any part of my body right now, and I'm seeing little stars.

This is so freaking cool...

Monday, December 08, 2003

The local Sam Goody store is going out of business.

All CD's are at least 60% off...and the stock had been WELL picked over before I got there.

But, I managed to snag a copy of The Pixies' debut album (Surfer Rosa) on CD for $4.

We have a full moon and I have a migraine.

Next up -- tap-dancing jackals!!!

******

Well, my karma wheel got shot to shyte this morning -- we had some homeless guy panhandling on campus outside of the building I live in. Given the LARGE number of break-ins at the fraternity houses and the general paranoia of some of the students here...I told Security about it. And now I feel like a total tool.

If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office clubbing baby seals...

Friday, December 05, 2003

Sonny Really Does Not Belong In The South Sign #47 : I laughed at the people walking to class today all bundled up like they were expecting a massive frozen mad storm. Like, these people are strutting about in giant freaking PARKAS, gloves, ski caps, and probably thermal underwear like there is no tomorrow.

Me? I just wear my swearter, suede jacket, and I grin like a fool because I love the cool weather.

Now, if I were in, say Chicago, NYC, or somewhere else where the cold weather was bitterly ooky, then I might have a different theory about the lack of warmth. But, as it is...eh. Whatever.

Thursday, December 04, 2003

For those of you who give two tosses about such things...


The Darkest Night of the Year
, by Over the Rhine.

BEST. HOLIDAY. ALBUM. EVER.

Listen and love.

Wednesday, December 03, 2003

Today is a good day.

Much like all 33-year-old heterosexual men, I keep a pair of "skinny pants" in the back of my closet, hidden far away from the rest of my clothing, for fear of intimidating them. These "skinny pants" were purchased a few years ago (in Grad School, for those of you with a Rosetta Stone for the timeline) and promptly fell into disuse due to, oh, my ass getting larger. However, the looked good, they felt good, and gosh darn it, they were the pride of my "dressy" clothes.

Since arriving in Jackson, I have not put on said "skinny pants" for fear of becoming insanely depressed because they didn't fit. But, my lethargic non-laundry-doing self was left with little choice this morning. Try on the skinny pants, and wear them, or come to work in sweatpants. Or nude.

-- and dude...yeah. The SKINNY PANTS FIT. What's more, is I have room left OVER in said skinny pants. Rock on. And my hotness factor increased by a level of twenty-seven points.

So, I'm celebrating by drinking an Egg Nog Latte. Screw it -- I can afford to gain a pound or two.


Tuesday, December 02, 2003

I had this really long rant to go on about, but now I'm just tired and want chocolate.

******

BUT...allow me to just start off by saying that I am now officially financially bereft of any solvency. Millsaps just announced that our insurance rates will go up in January.

By. Twenty-nine. Percent. 29%. Almost a third.

This means also that all co-pays will double, and all prescription refills just (at least) doubled as well. Couple this with the fact that in the three years I have been here, we have gotten one (1) raise...two and a half years ago...of 2%. There have been no cost-of-living increases, and any time that additional duties are assumed, there has been no monetary -- or hell, any -- compensation.

Due to this, I am now going to bring home less money each month than I did when I started here...and I have not added or changed my payroll deductions at all.

Cricket and I are both about to have to start eating dog food.

Monday, December 01, 2003

This will be the first of two (in a series -- collect 'em all) posts today. Why? Namely, because I have the Return of the King soundtrack blaring out through the speakers at my computer inspiring me to literary greatness, but also because I refuse to do anything productive at work, especially following a "break." My sinuses and allergies are trying to compensate for me being in relative good health all summer, and they're on full-blown attack mode.

******

SIGNS YOUR LIFE HAS BECOME A SELF-PARODY: I noticed something this morning when I was getting dressed. (Get your mind OUT of the gutters, children.) My clothes...all the clothes I am wearing today came from Ye Olde Bananae Republike. The socks. Skivvies. T-shirt. Belt. Pants. Button down jacket (suede, to boot). Jacket. Hell, the only articles of clothing that aren't from the Banana are my glasses and shoes. This, dear friends, is the end result of having a nice outlet mall, oh, three hours from your doorstep.

Last year (almost exactly a little over a year ago, in fact), I was in Birmingham to go see Tori Amos in concert (and meet up with a friend who I was ill-fated to eventually get a crush on and blah blah blah whoa-oh-oa-oh feelings etc. ad nauseum heartache yadda yadda move on). ANYWAY, I got there a little early, and I decided to scope out the local sights that were not terribly far from the concert arena. I'd seen the signs for this "Outlet Mall" several times before, but -- since I was normally on my way back to J-town when these signs came into my life and I was not particularly interested in spending any MORE money, I always opted to not take the road less traveled by (thereby going to what I thought must be an Outlet Mall with a selection of purchaseables on par with the average Shell gas station) and just jet on back to the land of crazed college students. But, since She Who Must Not Be Named Ere I Choke Up and I were not slated to meet for an hour or so, I decided to go kill time. "What do I have to lose besides a few scoffs at these simpletons and their shopping abilities?"

And...(in Comic Book Guy voice) this turned out to be.... The. Worst. Idea. Ever.

Holy Cats -- this place was like a shopping Mecca in the middle of a freakin' serial killer's dream locale. The Outlet Mall (hereforeafter referred to as "The Bleak Discover Card Draining Zone") is located in what looks to be the outskirts of a gravel pit, down County Line Mule Trail 409 or something, next to the saddest excuse for an amusement park ever created ("Vision Land," which sounds like an optometrist's dream world). TBDCDZ has the standard Outletty things -- shoes, books (where I bought the damn funniest book I've ever seen; Juice, you're getting a copy of this from Sonny Claus, bud), and a Banana Outlet. A HUGE Banana Outlet.

-- and since I do feel the need to look my best for all the many dates I go out on (translation: zero), as well as looking good at work (translation: after being kept up all night by the jackass stunts of college students, I HAVE to compensate for the dark circles under my eyes by looking as stylish as a mofo), well...shirts at half-price? A CASHMERE SWEATER FOR $20? Belts, good nice pet-able leather belts, insanely priced at three for $30?

My car weighed a little bit more on the return trip than it did on the way over. Didn't mind a bit that I got home at three in the morning wearing a coffee stain on my left shoulder from where I fell asleep while driving.

But, y'know, the fact that I now look like a walking billboard for the Gods of Style...I am disturbed. I am bothered by the fact that I am wearing all similar labeled items. It's like Grranimals for Adults.

Now, in my own defense, I have not nor shall I be a slave to A Label. These are quality clothes that don't fall apart after three washings. The fact they're all...from the same bloody place...well. Then. Only I know, and it is my shame to carry.

And now you all know. Please feel free to mock at your own peril.