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Friday, January 28, 2005
The Elevator
Apparently, I've been stuck in the elevator for a few weeks now. Sad. You'd think I'd have lost a few pounds. Or figured out how to set up some sort of still with nothing but my belt and a fleece jacket. That makes water, right?
To which you're saying, "Micky, you're making no sense. Are you drunk?"
No. It's 1pm. Although I'm sure it's happy hour somewhere, it is not here. I won't lie to you. It's been a rough couple of weeks, what with the quitting and the finals and the opening of the new show (which is tonight...you should come check it out sometime in the next five weeks...I designed the set).
I also currently have no money, as I have no cash flow and as the jerks at Columbia don't feel the need to send me the refund for my student loans, even though they've applied the payments already. Rude. How is a guy supposed to eat?
Again, with the pounds. I'm not doing anything but running around in my truck all day, and usually I would eat three meals a day from a fast food restaurant. But because of the supreme lack of funding, I haven't even done that. So maybe a few pounds will drop off before I get my refund check. That'd be nice. (Yes, I'm still eating, mom...just less. Never hurt anyone.)
So, just in case you were wondering, we're not going to settle into the maudlin posts that rampaged the site last year when I was jobless and bitter. Because this time, I'm jobless by choice. I'm almost done with school, starting my thesis, and starting a new internship in a few weeks. I also plan to sit down and watch the rest of my Friends Season 8 DVDs, which I can't believe I haven't done, since I got them at Christmas. And then, maybe I'll go back and watch the previous seven seasons.
I deserve a break once in a while.
So much so, that I'm not going back to edit this post. You find spelling or grammar errors? Deal. I'm watching Friends.
1/28/2005 01:57:00 PM link
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Tuesday, January 11, 2005
The Fall
(or...Why I Was Not at My Desk for 30 Minutes This Morning)
I just wanted some breakfast. Some toast, maybe an apple. I dunno. But I was hungry. Very, very hungry.
Which is why it was so great that just as the elevator is winging me to the ground floor cafe, it decided to stop and rest. Forcing me to rest as well. While starving.
After a few minutes, the other random dude (from 31, and we SO don't hang out with them) and I decided to call the building. He continued to promise that the OTIS guys were on their way. (Of course, the reception on those babies isn't exactly cellular...or maybe they are, if you think about it, but I digress...and I swore he was saying that he was sending up the OLDEST technicians. To which I was thinking, "Awesome. Bring on the old people. They'll help us get out of here.") He then told us to hold on.
Seriously. What else were we going to do? That's something you only say on a sitcom, man.
After a while, he called back and asked our names and companies. Again, because of the lovely reception, he had great difficulty understanding that my name is MICKY. Not BLIMPY. Really, who's named Blimpy? But I shouldn't feel too bad, because he couldn't seem to get a handle on the name JOHN either. They really attract the winners to work here.
And after we finally hit the ground floor (in a good way, not in a falling 25 more floors way), the dude felt the need to explain to us what happened. He did not see to understand that WE DON'T CARE. I'm hungry. There's the cafe. That's where I'll be if you need to keep talking at me. Oh, and by the way, I'm not listening.
It's the perfect way to start a day of work. Which leads me to the big news. I quit my job at the Firm.
I know, I know. I was all back with a vengeance and stuff. But school and the company are taking up too much damn time. Add that to the fact that I have to do a big internship to finish this godforsaken degree, and the fact that I get hardly any sleep, and it all adds up to "no more day job". Which translates to "hefty student loans".
Sadly, my time in the elevator has left me unchanged. I didn't deliver any babies. I don't feel a renewed love of life. I don't even want to run a marathon. Nothing new.
That's 30 minutes I'm never getting back.
1/11/2005 09:24:00 AM link
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Wednesday, January 05, 2005
The Dentist
You know it's my duty to make sure that the people know about what's right. Which is why I must tell you about my dentist.
Because my last two appointments rocked. Hardcore. Here's why:
1) Headphones. "Do you want music or the TV?" Apparently they also had DVDs and CDs. But I wanted to take the chance that Kelly would show up on the radio. (Instead I listened to Eminem's "Encore", which I swear is sampling something else. If anyone knows, I'll send you a prize.) Kelly of course showed up, just as the dentist finished with my filling.
2) Nitrous. Lots of it. I was completely wasted in the dentist's chair. "You want to do what? Put cocaine in my gums for transport across the border? Whatever man...more gas!" So wonderful. A few deep breaths and you don't care about the spinning drill. Or the blade being shoved up underneath your gums.
3) Numbing Magic. That's right. They don't want you to feel ANYTHING. Even the novocaine shot. My entire mouth was numb for the next five hours, but it was WORTH IT. If I winced even the slightest bit, the hygenist would say, "Oh, can you feel that? Let's numb you up some more. More gas?"
4) Massage. Yes. A massage therapist comes in afterwards and GIVES YOU A MASSAGE. AT THE DENTIST. AND IT'S FREE.
The really funny thing about this is that I know the massage therapist. And when she told someone that she knew me, they said "Oh really? Did you guys go to high school or something together?"
No. We know each other from a bar. Classy.
And so my friends, two days later, I have clean gums and a relaxed back. And I've heard that Eminem song about four times. Dental spa, people. Dental spa.
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