2006-04-21
Lookie, no Loki.
Okay, so I am the first to admit that the last several entries are disturbing. This blog has taken a turn for the grotesque. It's becoming a suburban schmooze fest -- dog pictures, talk about a new family member, blah, blah, blah. Disgusting. I'll try to hold on to my bohemian side as long as I can, but let's face it, I'm getting drawn to the simple things in life -- marriage, house, and dog. Kids are still a long way off, but only because I'm pretty sure I still need to go through a 30-year old crisis and start an electronica-punk band before I am ready to really settle down.
But I digress... listening to "The Bad Plus" right now. Best jazz band ever, possibly. Of course, I've only really ever listened to about five, so I'm probably way off the mark. Let's just say the best jazz band that I have ever heard. Their cover of "Smells Like Teen Spirit,""Chariots of Fire," and the way they play the "Empire Strikes Back" were enough to entice me. But their "1972 Bronze Medalist" and "Keep the Bugs off Your Glass, and the Bears off Your Ass" were the ones that made me realize their true brilliance! When I hear the former, I can actually see this Italian dude walking down to the beach from his summer villa on the Riveria with his towel draped over his shoulder, a wife beater on, and his bronze medal dangling around his neck. He swaggers and walks slowly, as people peek out from behind windows and doors to stare in admiration. Or is it pity? Is there a difference? When you look at a People magazine in the checkout line at Rainbow Foods, do you look at the people on the cover with admiration or pity -- to be so rich and clueless. I'm still not sure which it is. But maybe I'm just weird.
I have a break from dog sitting. Loki has an infection. (Probably from my bringing her over to the neighbor Beagles and letting her wrestle with them. I read yesterday that you are supposed to keep your puppy away from other dogs or it will certainly get very ill. No immunity or something. Whoops!) The people we bought Loki from run a petting farm -- which I don't have time to deconstruct, but isn't that kind of weird? -- and they have all of the vet stuff there. So they said just to call them if Loki were to get sick and they would take care of it. No vet fees or anything, which is nice, because I'm not looking forward to spending $500 on blood tests to hear my dog has a cold. But they live in the city of Ramsey, which is a haul. So we left her there through Saturday or Sunday. They're going to give her antibiotics and a "nebulizer," which still sounds inherently frightening to me, but perhaps I've watched too much Star Trek for my own good. I have to admit, it is nice having a little break. Watching a puppy to make sure it doesn't pee, etc., can be very draining indeed.
Example. The phone rings on Monday. It is Normandale Community College calling for a job interview. I've prepared. I've brought Loki out for the 15 minutes before the 9 a.m. phone call. I've brought up my coffee and placed it on my desk next to my computer so that I can readily access the course outlines I've created, etc., during the interview. I bring Loki up under my arm. Answer my phone. Set her down. Turn to my computer. Knock over my full glass of coffee. It starts flooding toward my new monitor, soaks my keyboard, and totally saturates all of these important papers on my desk. "Yes, yes, I'm ready for the interview," I say, while busily soaking up the half-pint of boiling hot coffee with isoline maps of Europe as it gushes toward my new monitor.
"Okay, I'm going to put you on speaker phone now. We have a room full of people," the lady mentions.
"All right, I'm ready," I repeat... perhaps giving away that I was lying. Having stopped the flooding, I turn around to see what Loki is up to. Oh shit, she is sniffing... And then there it happens. She crouches and pees on the carpet in front of my bookshelves. "Nnnno--" I start shouting, but then I realize I am on speaker phone. My hands are covered in coffee; my keyboard is a sticky mess; the carpet under my feet is soaked in a warm brown liquid; I'm on the speaker phone for a job interview I really want to ace; the dog is peeing in the corner; I am not supposed to discipline the dog after the fact, so it is now or never, but I can't very well shout "No" on the phone right now, or I will blow the interview before it even begins... I let her finish her duty, I keep an eye on the dog across the room while the people across the Cities at Normandale introduce themselves. I am frantically trying to write down their names and job specialties, but the pen I've grabbed is dry and the paper I am writing on is now a soggy mess.
Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell. I'm still trying to find the pee spot to this day. It doesn't stink too much, as at this age it is a mere trickle and my sinuses are so bad I still couldn't smell a thing anyway. Anyway, it is nice to be able to sit here right now and not have to run downstairs to take Loki out. But at the same time, I miss her. I can't wait to hang out with her again. Get on the floor and growl at her as I flail a stuffed pig around the room. After all, it isn't everyday that I have a phone interview. And she won't be so much work forever... I hope.
Okay, that's it. I'm outta here. I've got to do about four hours of grading today. Then I would like to read. I'm going back to the doctor to see them about this nasty month-long cough that won't go away. The nurse told me she thought it was the beginning of asthma, perhaps. But I don't want to believe that. No way... smoking two packs a day for five or six years could never result in such a thing, could it? They said emphysema on the side of the packs; they didn't say shit about asthma! Those bastards! Had I only khown, I'm sure I would have surrendered my addiction realizing that the 30-year old Ian would suffer the repurcussions of the 17-year old Ian. Yeah, surely. I wasn't self-centered or anything at 17. No, Ian v.17 would have understood and put the cigarettes down, taken up softball, and Tai Chi or something. Definitely. Definitely. It's weird, but sometimes I think that we don't only change as people over time, but we become totally different people. I am pretty sure I would slap the teenage Ian silly if I bumped into him today. But at the same time, I'm pretty sure Ian v.17 would kick my ass. So we'll call it a draw. An uneasy truce, and I'll just hope that rat bastard Ian v.17 didn't screw over Ian v.29's bronchial tubes.
Oh yeah, one other thing before I forget. I had a nightmare that I couldn't get out of Hungary last night. I couldn't catch the 3A to Ferihegy Airport to leave. Everyone was evacuating the country. (The 3A is the bus I take to school here, so that is kind of odd in hindsight.) While attempting to get out, with Birgit and my advisor Bob, etc., I ended up meeting up with Bjork, and she showed me this kick ass instrument she made from some delicate wood. It had the coolest bass sound -- made by two little wooden boots hitting one another -- and it also had really cool strings. She played "Big Time Sensuality" for me and one other person. At any rate, I fell for her big time, but I didn't make a move, realizing she was out of my league, etc. She said goodbye, and I knew I would never see her again. And then when I tried leaving I was on a modern version of the Titanic. I was trapped below a trap door made out of particle board. I smashed it open and freed a bunch of the people behind me. At any rate, I think I'm feeling trapped. Eventually I made it to Ferihegy Airport with Birgit. We were the last two people in Hungary. We bribed our way on the plane and left. Bizarre shit. I woke up at one point flailing my arms in the air. I forget why (i.e., what I was doing in my dream), but I remember waking up, falling back to sleep, and picking up the dream where it left off.
Pointless ramble... I've got to go see the doc!
But I digress... listening to "The Bad Plus" right now. Best jazz band ever, possibly. Of course, I've only really ever listened to about five, so I'm probably way off the mark. Let's just say the best jazz band that I have ever heard. Their cover of "Smells Like Teen Spirit,""Chariots of Fire," and the way they play the "Empire Strikes Back" were enough to entice me. But their "1972 Bronze Medalist" and "Keep the Bugs off Your Glass, and the Bears off Your Ass" were the ones that made me realize their true brilliance! When I hear the former, I can actually see this Italian dude walking down to the beach from his summer villa on the Riveria with his towel draped over his shoulder, a wife beater on, and his bronze medal dangling around his neck. He swaggers and walks slowly, as people peek out from behind windows and doors to stare in admiration. Or is it pity? Is there a difference? When you look at a People magazine in the checkout line at Rainbow Foods, do you look at the people on the cover with admiration or pity -- to be so rich and clueless. I'm still not sure which it is. But maybe I'm just weird.
I have a break from dog sitting. Loki has an infection. (Probably from my bringing her over to the neighbor Beagles and letting her wrestle with them. I read yesterday that you are supposed to keep your puppy away from other dogs or it will certainly get very ill. No immunity or something. Whoops!) The people we bought Loki from run a petting farm -- which I don't have time to deconstruct, but isn't that kind of weird? -- and they have all of the vet stuff there. So they said just to call them if Loki were to get sick and they would take care of it. No vet fees or anything, which is nice, because I'm not looking forward to spending $500 on blood tests to hear my dog has a cold. But they live in the city of Ramsey, which is a haul. So we left her there through Saturday or Sunday. They're going to give her antibiotics and a "nebulizer," which still sounds inherently frightening to me, but perhaps I've watched too much Star Trek for my own good. I have to admit, it is nice having a little break. Watching a puppy to make sure it doesn't pee, etc., can be very draining indeed.
Example. The phone rings on Monday. It is Normandale Community College calling for a job interview. I've prepared. I've brought Loki out for the 15 minutes before the 9 a.m. phone call. I've brought up my coffee and placed it on my desk next to my computer so that I can readily access the course outlines I've created, etc., during the interview. I bring Loki up under my arm. Answer my phone. Set her down. Turn to my computer. Knock over my full glass of coffee. It starts flooding toward my new monitor, soaks my keyboard, and totally saturates all of these important papers on my desk. "Yes, yes, I'm ready for the interview," I say, while busily soaking up the half-pint of boiling hot coffee with isoline maps of Europe as it gushes toward my new monitor.
"Okay, I'm going to put you on speaker phone now. We have a room full of people," the lady mentions.
"All right, I'm ready," I repeat... perhaps giving away that I was lying. Having stopped the flooding, I turn around to see what Loki is up to. Oh shit, she is sniffing... And then there it happens. She crouches and pees on the carpet in front of my bookshelves. "Nnnno--" I start shouting, but then I realize I am on speaker phone. My hands are covered in coffee; my keyboard is a sticky mess; the carpet under my feet is soaked in a warm brown liquid; I'm on the speaker phone for a job interview I really want to ace; the dog is peeing in the corner; I am not supposed to discipline the dog after the fact, so it is now or never, but I can't very well shout "No" on the phone right now, or I will blow the interview before it even begins... I let her finish her duty, I keep an eye on the dog across the room while the people across the Cities at Normandale introduce themselves. I am frantically trying to write down their names and job specialties, but the pen I've grabbed is dry and the paper I am writing on is now a soggy mess.
Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell. I'm still trying to find the pee spot to this day. It doesn't stink too much, as at this age it is a mere trickle and my sinuses are so bad I still couldn't smell a thing anyway. Anyway, it is nice to be able to sit here right now and not have to run downstairs to take Loki out. But at the same time, I miss her. I can't wait to hang out with her again. Get on the floor and growl at her as I flail a stuffed pig around the room. After all, it isn't everyday that I have a phone interview. And she won't be so much work forever... I hope.
Okay, that's it. I'm outta here. I've got to do about four hours of grading today. Then I would like to read. I'm going back to the doctor to see them about this nasty month-long cough that won't go away. The nurse told me she thought it was the beginning of asthma, perhaps. But I don't want to believe that. No way... smoking two packs a day for five or six years could never result in such a thing, could it? They said emphysema on the side of the packs; they didn't say shit about asthma! Those bastards! Had I only khown, I'm sure I would have surrendered my addiction realizing that the 30-year old Ian would suffer the repurcussions of the 17-year old Ian. Yeah, surely. I wasn't self-centered or anything at 17. No, Ian v.17 would have understood and put the cigarettes down, taken up softball, and Tai Chi or something. Definitely. Definitely. It's weird, but sometimes I think that we don't only change as people over time, but we become totally different people. I am pretty sure I would slap the teenage Ian silly if I bumped into him today. But at the same time, I'm pretty sure Ian v.17 would kick my ass. So we'll call it a draw. An uneasy truce, and I'll just hope that rat bastard Ian v.17 didn't screw over Ian v.29's bronchial tubes.
Oh yeah, one other thing before I forget. I had a nightmare that I couldn't get out of Hungary last night. I couldn't catch the 3A to Ferihegy Airport to leave. Everyone was evacuating the country. (The 3A is the bus I take to school here, so that is kind of odd in hindsight.) While attempting to get out, with Birgit and my advisor Bob, etc., I ended up meeting up with Bjork, and she showed me this kick ass instrument she made from some delicate wood. It had the coolest bass sound -- made by two little wooden boots hitting one another -- and it also had really cool strings. She played "Big Time Sensuality" for me and one other person. At any rate, I fell for her big time, but I didn't make a move, realizing she was out of my league, etc. She said goodbye, and I knew I would never see her again. And then when I tried leaving I was on a modern version of the Titanic. I was trapped below a trap door made out of particle board. I smashed it open and freed a bunch of the people behind me. At any rate, I think I'm feeling trapped. Eventually I made it to Ferihegy Airport with Birgit. We were the last two people in Hungary. We bribed our way on the plane and left. Bizarre shit. I woke up at one point flailing my arms in the air. I forget why (i.e., what I was doing in my dream), but I remember waking up, falling back to sleep, and picking up the dream where it left off.
Pointless ramble... I've got to go see the doc!
