Monday, January 31, 2005

for every tool they lend us

I can't get used to this lifestyle

My mother has quite an attachment to her cell phone, but only insofar as outgoing calls are concerned. You can get three calls from her on the cell phone within fifteen minutes, but should you try to call her back two minutes later, you are guaranteed to get her voicemail. Someone needs to explain cell phone usage to her. Unfortunately, it can't be me, because I field even more complaints about my cell phone than she does. First off, my cell phone could possibly be in a museum of antiquities by now (see above for proof). Secondly, I bought it when my old POS car had a meltdown, literally- the radiator cracked and smoke came out of my hood in the middle of the street. So most of the time, it stays in my car, since I still think of it as a Help, my car is on fire, please come get me-tool. Thirdly, since I have both a turn of the century cell phone and one of the lousiest cell phone service providers ever, my reception makes calling or speaking with anyone an unappealing prospect. All of the above, though, are simply excuses. Really, I am just incredibly lazy. I have cursed this phone a billion times, cursed my service provider a billion times more, but my incredible sloth-like tendencies have kept me from doing anything about it.

Yesterday, I was urban hiking all over the place because of the unseasonably lovely weather. I was watching the park fill up to capacity while walking down a steep sidewalk. Just then, I came upon four guys making their way up the hill in, I kid you not, full-fledged stilts, complete with oversized pants. It troubles me a little that I tend to take things like that for granted. I'm disturbingly nonchalant when I'm walking down the street. Someone could be riding a unicorn across the street and I probably would shrug and complain about traffic. The stilt folks had nifty mugs, most likely filled with alcoholic beverages given their gleeful shouts to anyone who would hear them. I wondered some time later how far up the hill they got before the liquor triumphed over their sense of balance.

And finally, in random paragraph #3, in honor of my former Northeast Corridor residence status, I have to see this as soon as is humanly possible. I've heard people use the expression Bridge & Tunnel here, and it irks, because I'm not aware of any tunnels leading into San Francisco, unless BART somehow counts.

Okay, one more thing: this ad makes me giggle uncontrollably no matter how many times I see it, even though it represents an evil corporate behemoth shilling something I'd never drink in a billion years. These lines particularly kill me, but really lose their punch without the Eye of the Tiger music playing in the background:

Middle management is right in his grasp
It's a dream he will never let die
Glen's the man of the hour, he's the king of his cube
Status call reports have finally met their rival
Ah, Survivor, you dudes sure are milking that Rocky theme for all it's worth. Well played, sirs!

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