a planned missed connection

right now i’m: sitting at my computer, its 1:30pm, i’m tired, i’m trying not to look like i’m just fucking around on the internet. but i’m fucking around on the internet. you probably don’t see me just yet.

my plan: i’m going out for some coffee in like 10 minutes, maybe 5. i’ll be going to peets, the one in harvard square. i’ll be sitting at a bar stool that overlooks the little green space outside. by myself.

you’ll know it’s me: because i’ll be that guy just sitting there looking for you. i’ll still look tired because that isn’t regular coffee i’m drinking, its decaf. or i might even order tea because i’m stupid enough not to drink regular coffee anymore. i should be wearing my usual grey fleece, the one that smells like cigarettes and booze from the celebration last night. i’ll probably look depressingly desperate and have my sad longing eyes on.

what i’m looking for: a missed connection. why don’t you plan on walking by the window i’m sitting at in like 15 minutes? that would be great. if you could kind of slow your walk and turn to look at me and smile just a crack and use flirting eyes, that would be great. then if you could keep walking and not look back while i continue to peer out at you, hoping you’ll turn around, hoping you’ll decide to come in and get some coffee, hoping that i can get the courage in time to run out and start talking to you before you’re gone forever, hoping. great. also, if you could be the woman of my dreams and be absolutely gorgeous and perfect and have light brown hair and be wearing a red sox hat it would really help make this even more depressing.

great. awesome. thanks. i’m ready.

but lets get something straight: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO MAKE AN ACTUAL CONNECTION! heavens no, that could not happen. how could that possibly happen? i’m not looking for any serious or actual connections here, strictly missed. rest assured i’m very much used to these missed connections and know how to handle myself, don’t feel bad about not stopping in to say hi. i know it may appear by the look in my eyes that i want to buy you a coffee and talk and laugh and have fun and enjoy the october afternoon and the red sox win last night, but no, don’t be silly, i’m not that interested.

lets get another thing straight: should you try to ignore the above it may not be worth trying to make an actual connection. a connection has never been made, something tells me you won’t be the first.

excellent. i’m excited. i’ve got an hour or so to waste by that window, so take your time, no hurry. i won’t even be mad if you don’t show up.

craigslist post

pfft, redic

excited about the new black ipod? neither am i.
excited about the new ipod photo? neither am i.

when it comes to apple you expect more and get more. i expected more and got less. the only thing you can come to expect with the new blacky is to pay more than you expect.

signed ipod by U2? who listens to U2 anymore? you mean i get a free poster with my purchase?! sweet. can’t wait.

wait, can i get the black ipod without all that signing on the back because i don’t really want it or need it? no. no option. blacky must be signed by boner or bano and edge or the edge or whatev the hell they call each other.

ok, well, i’ll get it anyway, pack her up and ship her out. what? there’s a 3 week wait? you’re not actually selling them yet?

i get a $50 credit towards some complete U2 boxed set action? sweet! only i can’t seem to find this shit yet on a search with itunes. odd.

and i’m sure the ipod photo would be cool if you could think of a better name for it, seriously. and are you sure you priced them right? i know you like to charge up the ass, but come on, $500 or $600 for this thing? please, a little more expensive so nobody can afford it. why not just make it a million bucks for christ. outrageous. couple hundred more can buy one of your laptops. a laptop. and you want me to pay $600 for something that just plays music and lets you look at photos on a tiny little screen half the size of my pinky finger?

oh well.

planning on coming out with a britney spears version as well i see. that will be a sweet idea. sellout. but wait, is the free poster going to be of her naked? cause then i'll be lovin ya again.

an empire has fallen

at long last.

in the heart of the evil empire we celebrated a win in game 7. a game that we were forever away from last saturday.

the red sox have beaten the yankees to win the 2004 american league pennant. - this is a sentence you don't get to write often.

and if it wasn't the red sox you never would have thought it possible.

this may give an entirely new meaning to the term "yankees suck."

who needs sleep?

the question circulating the office this week revolves around this:

would you want to see the red sox beat the yankees and then lose the world series?
or
would you want the red sox to beat the twins and win the world series?












lets think for a second:

we started this yankees series with schilling on the mound, our ace, a guaranteed win. 21 wins this season, the most in all of baseball, no way he could lose. but he did, giving up 6 or 8 or 50 runs in like 2 innings.

then we put pedro on the mound for game two. nobody comes close in comparison to pedro. sure he doesn’t have the best record against the yankees, but after plenty of rest he always throws perfect. this was a sure thing. but it wasn’t.

our one-two punch failed. then we get the fuck kicked out of us when we travel back to fenway. this puts us down 3 games to nil. in our own park. after a day of rest. no way is this happening. impossible odds have been realized. fucked, we are.

but papi saves us in game 4. we were just a few outs away from a sweep. but no, after stringing us along for a million innings we come out with a win. we had waited soooooo long for the sweet taste of victory. hell, we had waited so long for a lead in just one game. down 3 games to 1.

but papi saves us yet again in game 5. as if the night before wasn’t enough he did it again, after 14 innings and 6 hours of baseball. down 3 games to 2. you can smell the hope.

then we beg and plead for schilling to come back and pitch for us in yankees stadium for game 6. we need him to pitch, we don’t have anyone else. he’s got a bloody and broken foot but he gets up on the mound anyway and throws for 7 innings and allows just one run. we’re in the 9th inning and we’ve got a lead and we’ve been here before. nobody has come back from a 3 games to nothing deficit to play a game 7. duh, this is the red sox we’re talking about, anything can happen. and it did. we won. somehow.

so now we go to game 7 in yankees stadium tonight, trying to make it 4 wins in a row. and if you told me saturday night after we got pounded that i would be watching a game 7 i’d say you’re crazy. we face the yankees that we hate, in the stadium that we hate, with the fans that we hate. the most important game of the season came to us on sunday, monday, tuesday, and now it lands on wednesday.

biggest rivalry in all of sports. and now you ask if i’d rather they play the twins? the fucking twins?! i don’t give a fuck about a world series. give me a game 7 against the yankees - win or lose, and i’m more excited than a world series title through the twins.

last year supposedly the red sox/yankees series was the best series in the history of baseball. how is it that we repeat this just one year later?

facing impossible odds, pretty-boy cheaters, retarded fans, we play a game 7.

quite simply, the greatest rivalry in all of sports.

dear in-n-out burger:

you make some rockin burgers. some rockin burgers. those fries aren’t bad either. better than mcfucktards and certainly better than burger ass-king.

had my first experience with your heavenly burgers almost two months ago. i’ve dreamed of them every night since. i daydream about them at work. i cry for them every night.

i live about 2,700 miles from the nearest in-n-out burger. and don’t think i haven’t looked at plane tickets from boston to phoenix just so i can appease my mouth. its a crying shame you don’t have any up in my neck of the woods. why don’t you? please get on that. start building, soon. please? how do you expect me to survive? you think you can just build the best burger joints in america then make them unavailable to everyone east of the mississippi? we like burgers too you know. ever think of that? didn’t think so.

i like the menu. very simple, very straightforward, very nice idea. what did i have like 3 choices? hamburger, cheeseburger or double cheeseburger? totally cool. but i hear from the regulars that you can get some special shit, you just have to know the special password. even cooler. i dig your style dude.

i hear you pay your managers like 6 figures to run the joints. i hear you give actual benefits to your employees. its no wonder the place looked so clean and professional and clean and chipper and clean and perfect and clean and clean.

i hear you don’t franchise out your burger joints. good idea, don’t sell out. but how the christ are you ever going to build enough joints to reach the east coast before i die? ever think of that? didn’t think so.

have you thought of mail order then? figure out a way to send me a fresh warm burger and fries in the mail, immediately. i can handle getting my own milkshake, you worry about that other part.

i better see those new stores opening and spreading to the east coast like wild fire. hire me to figure out how that can happen or figure it out yourself, i just don’t care, but do it soon. every day i think of how many thousands of satisfied customers you’re serving, and not one of them is me. make one of them me and make it soon. you’ll own my paycheck if you start busting open those stores ‘round here.

i want to in-n-out just once more. give me one more go, just once more. once was not nearly enough. help me help you.

hoping to be in-n-out soon,

raz

wish i could

wish i could fuck: that girl in my dreams.

wish i could see: some pretty foliage on some dirt road in vt.

wish i could find: a way to get into the red sox game today.

wish i could afford: a digital camera.

wish i could break: my asshole computer that ate what i was going to post today.

wish i could go: hiking.

wish i could be eating: some really good pizza.

wish i could talk to: zach braff, of course.

wish i could stop dreaming of: chocolate candy bars.

wish i could stop: walking to store 24 each time i wake-up from a chocolate candy bar dream.

wish i could post: my letter to in-n-out burger.

wish i could be watching: the survivor that i recorded last night.

we had just left phoenix

it was sunday night.

traffic was nightmarish at best. 3 hours to get to the mexico border before it closed for the night.

starved, we all were. lunch didn’t happen and now it was 9pm somewhere east or west or north or south of phoenix, i don’t know which.

the four of us had planned 3 days of vacation on the mexico coast, which meant we needed to buy food before leaving the US. time was not on our side.

at some point while we were going nowhere fast two of us looked out the window and announced what we saw at the same time:

polo: “taco bell!”
raz: “in-n-out?!”

understand that about 1500 days ago i watched the big lebowski for the first time. about 1/545th of the time since i’ve spent watching it again. i like it. i like it a lot. one of the scenes, like many of the scenes from the movie, applied to our current situation.

and just so i can get a good laugh out of reading this myself i’ll set the stage:

---------------------------------------------------

THE BIG LEBOWSKI
we’re at CRANE JACKSON'S FOUNTAIN STREET THEATER

we are behind walter, the dude, and donny, facing the stage in the background where allan, the dude's balding landlord, is performing a dance moderne.

as walter talks to the dude he leans in to him, his voice hushed, so as not to disturb the rest of the very sparse audience.

WALTER
he lives in north hollywood on radford, near the in-and-out burger--
DUDE
the in-and-out burger is on camrose.
WALTER
near the in-and-out burger--
DONNY
those are good burgers, walter.
WALTER
shut the fuck up, donny. this kid is in the ninth grade, dude, and his father is--are you ready for this?-- arthur digby sellers.
DUDE
who the fuck is that?
WALTER
huh?
DUDE
who the fuck is arthur digby sellers?
WALTER
who the f--, have you ever heard of a little show called branded, dude?
DUDE
yeah.
WALTER
all but one man died? there at bitter creek?
DUDE
yeah yeah, i know the fucking show walter, so what?
WALTER
fucking arthur digby sellers wrote 156 episodes, dude.
DUDE
uh-huh.
WALTER
the bulk of the series.
DUDE
uh-huh.
WALTER
not exactly a lightweight.
DUDE
no.
WALTER
and yet his son is a fucking dunce.
DUDE
uh.
WALTER
yeah, go figure. well we'll go out there after the, uh, uh, the.
(he waves a hand vaguely toward the stage.)
WALTER
what have you. we'll, uh--
DONNY
we'll be near the in-and-out burger?
WALTER
shut the fuck up, donny. we'll, uh, brace the kid--he'll be a pushover. we'll get that fucking money, if he hasn't spent it already. million fucking clams. and yes, we'll be near the, uh---- some burgers, some beers, a few laughs. our fucking troubles are over, dude.
---------------------------------------------

clearly we needed to swing by the in-n-out burger on freemont street, just like in the movie, only we needed to do so before or after some grocery shopping. i had heard in-n-out burger mentioned in the big lebowski but never really thought such a place existed, just figured they made it up. this is mainly because i’m from the east coast, where they don’t exist. the moment i saw the big red sign that said in-n-out burger i became slightly confused and thrilled at the same time. i tried to explain the situation to the others in the car as quickly as i could while threatening murder if we didn’t exit immediately and get some burgers. there was a brief moment where i came close to experiencing a heart-attack when polo said “yeah but i really feel like taco bell.” i quickly put that motion to rest by turning around and giving a look of death to polo.

a better burger had not passed by my lips, ever. a better burger cannot be found in all of the world. i said the fucking world. i don’t know what they put in them burgers but its worth its fuck in gold, for sure.

i had: a burger; some fries; some chocolate shake. it was some awesome. it was fast food and it was an instant orgasm.

strange thing happened yesterday.

i never buy any of those high-end premium lattes or espresso drinks that you see at starbucks or peets or wherever. i just can’t handle the thought of paying $4+ for a coffee. plus i have a feeling that if i tried one i’d like it and have to buy it every day, something i def don’t need to be doing right now.

i don’t know what came over me yesterday but i actually purchased one of them. i’m standing in line screaming inside because its 1pm and i don’t need to be buying another $2 iced coffee already. i’m screaming inside because i quit the coffee this week and no way should i be in line to order one, let alone in the store. and while i’m screaming i’m looking up at the menu at all those outrageously priced drinks. once i get to the counter i just start spitting out words i have never uttered before in a coffee shop: “i’ll have a grande pumpkin spiced iced latte with no whipped cream and a sprinkle of extra spice on top.” these words should not have belonged to me. these were the type of words spoken by people that usually stand in front of me in line. i’m always impressed by people that speak these same words and even more impressed by the employees that understand and can put a drink together that will represent the words just spoken. i have no idea how i was able to put a sentence like that together. ten minutes later i couldn’t for the life of me figure out how i came to owning a $4.65 coffee product.

but the night before i had a dream about one of them (you can see how much this coffee habit effects me, its taken control of me i’m afraid). in the dream i’m standing in line in my usual fashion, waiting to order my cheapo iced coffee. when i get to the register i find an employee looking confused as he can’t seem to find the owner of the high-end drink he just made. finally he offers it to me for free and i gladly accept. my first ever premium latte. it was big, it was expensive, but i can’t seem to remember if it was good.

now back to yesterday: i’m walking out of work when i remember this dream, the iced pumpkin latte well gone by now. so isn’t it strange that the day after i have this dream i walk in and order a drink that i’ve never thought of ordering ever before in my life, that i’m strictly against ordering – ever? and isn't it strange i never remembered this dream until after the purchased latte was finished? i’m positive this dream made me buy the premium latte, i can’t figure any other reason.

and in case you’re wondering how my coffee quitting experience is going this week - its not going well at all. in fact, since i’ve quit this past monday i’ve had 1 more ice coffee than i usually have at this point in the week. let me say that once more: i quit the juice, wanted to get off it once and for all. monday morning i didn’t get any, good start. but today is thursday and i’ve ordered 8 so far since monday afternoon, my usual for this time of the week is 7. so i’m 1 drink above a normal week and 8 drinks above where i wanted to be this week. what the christ is going on here?

recently been cracking me

i really don't have anything to post. i probably just wanted to post so i could look at this anderson pic a little longer. is she ready for her 10th playboy cover? probably, the girl doesn't age. will she sell 80 billion 2005 calendars with this picture on the cover? probably.

posts that have made me laugh out loud all by my lonesome here at work:

paige
morning sex is a relationship privilage, and/or is reserved for only the well-seasoned fuck buddy.

chicken
To be honest, if I had the choice to either have sex with a dude, or engage myself in a heated political debate, I can honestly say that I wouldn’t be ashamed of the rug burns on my knees the next morning.

Jane
Long story short, guess who’s asleep in my bed right now as I blog? Frank Junior. He was actually the LAST guy I thought I’d hear from considering the fact that I fucked his father.

zulieka
While I was taking photos of Dr. W staring out blankly next to my grinning mother, Ernie grabbed my digital camera and flipped through the saved photos. A few of them happened to be nude self-portraits. And just like in the old days, he yelled accusingly, "Mom, take a look at these! Zulieka took pictures of herself NAKED!" Fortunately, there were no spread-eagle shots.

only the truth
My sister writes to me from the other hemisphere. She's younger and she's stranger and she could kick my ass and as a reward she is in south Africa rubbing elbows with Nelson Mandella's grandson and getting to be the one with the hot foreign accent

the man
today is my lawyer kim's 22nd birthday. hottest, bestest entertainment lawyer on the hemisphere. i might be ten thousand years old when my ship comes in, but when i do she will get her fifteen percent.

retard and football

since i’m currently the only blog in the world without any mention of politics recently i guess i should make an attempt:

the photos below show the two candidates running for election this year. i think.

one of them likes to play football, but only if he’s just getting off a plane or about to board a plane. also, he changes his mind a lot or at least people say he does. i do too. so i guess i don’t have a problem with that.

the other likes to make funny retard faces when on camera and cry a whole lot. he also likes to say ultra stupid and ultra conflicting things on camera: I believe I'm going to win, because the American people know I know how to lead. I've shown the American people I know how to lead. I understand everybody in this country doesn't agree with the decisions I've made. And I made some tough decisions. But people know where I stand.

there, i attempted.

a visit with my doc

i was feeling like it was about time to visit the doc a couple days ago. so i called for an appointment. they told me maybe in a year they’d be able to fit me in or else come in and see a nurse today. i said fine, schedule me for next week or next year, or whatever the fuck is most convenient its only cancer that i have, no biggie. two hours later i get a call and its my doc. he says “raz! haven’t seen you in awhile, what’s this appointment they have you scheduled for in like a year and two days from now?” i tell him i know i have skin cancer and wanted to get it checked out, he says “no problem, why don’t you just stop by in like an hour or so, i can make the time.”

its so awesome i have a cool doc.

understand my doc: he’s like 22 years old, no shit. he gets bullshit about his age all the time though, so i don’t give him much of it myself. he also walks around with his tablet pc and headphones on all the time. he gets into the office and says something like “man, i just started listening to stereolab and can’t stop!” a cool doc, for sure.

so i’m in his office and we’re shooting the shit, mostly about how the yankees suck and how jeter blows a big one. we talk about the sucking and blowing of the yankees for about 5 minutes, then we get down to the real biz:

doc: so speaking of sucking, you suppose jeter gets sucked and blown by like every smokin blonde honey in ny, or what?

raz: for sure. and i bet the same is the case for a-hole or a-rod or whatev the hell they call him. he’s married and shit, but i’m sure his wife understands. i mean think about it, the situation is perfect really, some sox-loving yanks-hater yells out that the yankees suck, jeter or a-rod turn around and yell back to them that maybe they should suck them. and before you know it, well......you know........lots of sucking and blowing.

doc: right. fuck man, those yankees just suck don’t they?

later he takes out a microscope of some sort and checks out the skin cancer i think i have on my face. i point to where it is, he gives a once over and says “you mean this pimple here?” ha ha doc. no, not that, but the slight discoloration right next to it. “ah, right, kind of looks like a pimple though doesn’t it?” yes, yes it does, as if i need more pimples. then he says “did you ever see that seinfeld episode where george has that slight discoloration he’s all worried about?, hee hee, that one was funny.” not finding this a laughing matter just yet i kind of give him a hesitant eye. he says “oh i don’t think you have cancer if that’s what you think. i’m fairly sure its called something i can’t pronounce but starts with t and ends with sia. its benign, for sure, but you’ll have it for life unless you fall into money sometime soon and want to have it removed via laser surgery.” excellent, this is what i want to hear and i say “so you’re telling me i don’t have skin cancer but i’m going to have a pimple-like blemish on my face for life? i think i can deal with that.” he suggests i invest in some good foundation to cover it up if i’m all that worried about appearance, but he kind of smiles as he says this.

i’m basically happy with my appointment: 15 minutes with my doc confirmed i don’t have skin cancer and that the yankees do in fact still suck, but that jeter and a-rod could use this battle cry to their advantage.

get yourself a cool doc, its worth it. and if you live around me i’ll have to give you his name, he’s more than worth it.

i hate coffee

i hate coffee. i hate starbucks. i hate caffeine. i hate the addiction. so......

i’ve just decided to quit the juice. off it for good this time. no more juice, ever. or at least for the winter. or at least until after lunch. now would not be a good time for starbucks to name me customer of the month. but they have. those fucking bastards. why are they so goddamn smart? could they tell i was thinking of quitting? do they really know me that well? yes.

every morning when i walk in all three employees say hello to me by name. no matter who’s behind the counter they can always get what i need without me asking. they know i won’t change the rules on them, won’t dream of changing my order. they’ve got it made and sitting on the counter by the time its my turn at the register. i fork the cash, they fork the iced juice.

sometimes they play tricky on me. like they’ll “forget” what my usual drink size is. so instead of forking a tall iced cup of sweetness they “by mistake” fork me a grande cup of twice as good sweetness. oh, and that will be of no charge. great. now what am i going to do tomorrow morning? go back to my usual tall cup? not a fucking chance now that i’ve had better. by next month they’ll have me ordering the biggest, most expensive drink on the menu, and like 3 times a day.

i can’t tell you what customer of the month means because they haven’t crowned me yet. the ceremony is on monday i guess. big celebration is all they’ve told me. i hope it means free drinks for a month. or maybe i don’t hope that. maybe i hope they crown someone else customer of the month. maybe i’m just never going back in that store again.

yuck, i hate you starbucks. i hate your incredibly good coffee. i hate your incredibly sexy baristas. i hate your incredibly successful business.

i’ll see you bright and early monday morning.