Art of Spitting
Ok I know. Barely anyone spits anymore. I rarely do it. If there is a female within eye/ear shot of my I proudly swallow whatever it is I may try ejecting from my mouth. If you’ve ever made eye contact with me, chances are you’ve heard tales of rivers of snots flowing down the back of my throat. These are rivers that would make the River Styx look like a stream. It’s kind of embarassing but short of hiring tiny beavers to build a damn in my esophogaus, I don’t have many options.
It’s especially bad in the morning. On my commute to work, I have to roll down the window every red light and do a little “spring cleaning.” Most of the time the mucus has no problems saying, “Goodbye” and they go on an adventure while I feel slightly more satisfied. The other times, the river decides that, no, it is going to stay in my body come hell or any amount of water. It clings to objects and is as hard to get out of my mouth as a child who doesn’t want to get in its bed. But I try. I’ll drive for miles just making noises, manuevering my tounge and getting everything ready for take off. But sometimes all the preparation in the world isn’t enough.
Spitting out something that doesn’t want to leave is tough. The tiniest pinky of this being clings to the edge of my tongue and instead of flying forward, out the window, it boomerangs back into my shoulder. It’s awfully embarrassing. And you say to yourself, “Oh no one will notice that lil’ damp spot on your shoulder.” But as soon as you walk into work (an hour late) you feel eyes on you until you confess what happened. Often times with tears.
I go on an aeroplane tomorrow. I am very excited.
Also, hey Kevin.
If You Thought I was Awesome Before
Get ready to brace yourself. Possibly with some sort of rope/mule combination. Also, I should mention Andrew Meyer did the filming and editing.
Why Would Anyone Want Health Insurance?
Anyone know what antibiotics are made out of? I’m not claiming to be any sort of doctor or medical associate but the stuff that is manufactured in the pills can’t be anything too incredibly costly. Sure, someone sits in a lab coat and uses microscopes to identify what happens when pills meet the opponent, but after that step those pills are manufactured like hot cakes at nearly no expense to anyone. With this mentality, I was surprised that the nice pharmacy lady told me 1) My insurance is not valid until Janurary and 2) the antibiotics would cost me $250. Yikes.
I could buy a bunch of Blu-Rays, put a payment on a HD TV, buy a decent digital camera, buy a new 360, or eat food for a few weeks with that sort of money. Obviously, being only slightly employed I turned down the offer to spend my savings on a cure and opted for more homeopathic methods. Let me tell you how refreshing it is to squirt 8 oz of salt water into your nostrils at a rocket ship velocity in an effort to clean out the infected area. Super refreshing.
I’ve dealt with sinus infections my entire life. It seems like there is a large assault on my sinuses at least once every two month. To the infection’s credit, I do keep defeating its hordes and yet it always manages to crawl up that mountain and infest my nostrils. Isn’t there a Greek dude like that? Oh yes, Sisyphus. My sinus ducts are a Greek tale.
If anyone has some spare antibiotics, I’d be willing to meet you in a dimly lit (or dark) alley way. I need the big guns though, like Levaquin, or Z-Pack.
Nice Job Kerry: Going Out To Eat Again
Hey I’m Dan and this is the first of my (probably) weekly series of “Nice Job, Kerry”. This is where I blame Kerry for something regardless of who’s fault it may or may not be. To those of you new to this, Kerry is my sister of 20.5 years. She has brown hair and (in this instance at least) owns a hat that makes her look like an eight year old. Currently she is enrolled as Pitt and probably learning something dumb. You think I take the time to know this stuff?
Every so often Kerry gets hungry and demands that we go eat. Often times my Grandma gives me ten dollars to go out to eat but laments that she, “does not have enough for Jen, Leah, Lindsay, Tommy, Kerry. I mean Kerry.” Sometimes these two events coincide and I take Kerry out to eat with me. We can never decide but for some reason this evening we went to the SouthSide where Kerry estimated we would have an 80% of being dissapointed. I was feeling lucky so we found a parking spot and somehow found ourselves in a place called Papparazzi. I’m sure I’m spelling that wrong but you’ll see why I don’t care in a moment.
It’s a quiet place with a few tables and Kerry and I are seated against a wall and given some menus. About 15 minutes later a man (our waiter?) slams some wine glasses full of water on our table, yells that he’ll be back and walks away. 15 more minutes later he comes back and Kerry tells him she wants a Coke. For some unknown reason the man looks at me and says, “You want a Coke too.” What. Why would he ask that? I said no and kind of expected him to ask me every other drink on the menu until he struck gold. Instead he just starred at me like his brain was gathering energy for the next genius idea and I said “water”.
He returned in about 5 minutes with a glass of water and a Coke. Also, he saw fit that there was a dead fly in my water and all of the carbonation of Kerry’s Coke was eradicated. Good man. I complained, as well as ordered some appetizers. Later, the man brought us a block of deep fried cheese sitting on a throne of marina sauce. It looked alright but tasted like funnel cake filled with cheese. We were starving so we ate it all. In the middle of our conversations, the man would scream from across the restauraunt at us that, “YOUR FOOD WILL COME OUT SHORTLY.” THANKS MAN.
Meanwhile, we were treated to watching a lady set up shop INSIDE the restaurant. A shop inside of a restaurant? Can you imagine? You’re waiting for your food and a bazaar appears right next to your dining table. Except this bazaar was full of tacky jewlery, and shitty assorted items. It would only fuel the burning fire of hatred, trust me.
Finally, the man brought us some food. It was not out main course, but a soup I ordered and a salad Kerry ordered. The man warned me that my soup MAY be cold. Hey guy, why would you serve me a soup you think is probably cold? Why not take the effort and time to heat this up for me instead of me making you run it back after I get hella pissed? It was cold, but I begrudgingly said it was fine because the less interaction with this idiot the better.
Our meal came and my spaghetti and meatballs I ordered tasted like rolled up hamburgers. The pasta sucked and I was pissed. I requested to speak to the manager and some lady came out and I told her how appalled I was. She told me that the “Jerry” (our waiter) was new and was trying his hardest. I told her that what I was eating was banal and I was extremely offended they’d serve this to me then I went on to say, “and there is some lady setting up shop to my left and I’m not even sure what kind of environment this is to eat food in.” She apologized and took 50% off the bill. The bill still came to $18.00. I was real mad, so I told Kerry to put on her eight year old hat, get her jacket on cause we were leaving in a rush. I left $10 dollars on the table and left that hell hole behind.
What a miserable time it was. Kerry and I have learned our lesson. And that lessons is two folds. 1) Don’t go to a dining place that is not full of people and 2) you can pay whatever you want for a meal as long as you leave before they find out.
Side Note: Cashier at the Rite-Aid post-Papparazzis said to us, “Still cold out?” to which we responded, “yes,” and then she said, “Crazy weather we’re having.” And I thought it might be crazy if we were in Ft. Worth, Texas but we’re in Pittsburgh in the midst of December. Nothing out of the ordinary here.
It’s Like ADD
Man. I have been meaning to post about a hundo different things but you know what I do instead? I refresh stale web pages, check my mail, or go play video games. I am constantly under the impression that there is not nearly enough time for me to do everything I want to do, but little do I know how simple it is to prioritize!
Pat and I have started millions of projects and left them half finished, or even 1/12th finished. It’s a pretty bad state of affairs. But no longer! We have put our brains together (with the help of that thatnight chick) to begin a new project. Ultimately it will fail, just like our plan to learn to write left handed.
For an example of something I’ve done but then did not keep doing: Future Dog. It’s my brother’s character but I stole him and wrote a story for him. I completely forgot about it until now BUT now I feel like I might start that up again. We’ll see how long that last for. But boy does it feel good to get a post out.
Perhaps, like the great Ben Franklin suggested, I should wake up every morning and make a to-do list. Maybe I’ll do that here. Maybe Pat will post something again? MAYBE.