Your cocktail sir,





2006-12-12 - 11:32 a.m.

My hands are dry. My whole body is dry. Iím afraid of spontaneous combustion. In spite of this sudden desert of a body I find myself in, Iím bloated, which would seem to be against what Iím claiming. I can only blame the seasonal shift from bone dry and frigid, to humid and frigid with snow. Iím going through lotion like a 16 year old with his parents away for the weekend, and nothing is helping my poor hands. I put Vaseline on my knuckles this morning, hoping it would do something. Iíve given up on my elbows; my new plan is to just get a piece of 80 grit sandpaper before I go to New York in January. And Iíll wear long pants, so no one need see my knees, which I should probably put Vaseline on those as well. Iím actually kind of grateful for my oily skin right now. Iíd hate to think what my T-Zone would look like without that protective layer of sebum.

Aside from dry skin issues, this sudden onslaught of winter has really been uneventful. Work has ground to a complete stop, like a party when a white person making a racially inappropriate remark in a 90ís comedy. Complete with scratch sound effect. Weíve decorated for the holidays, though my parents didnít think it a good idea putting up a menorah. I thought it was funny. We both, probably, have the wrong attitude. Regardless, I live in the reddest state ever, so I could probably go with Happy Birthday Jesus items and not have it remarked upon. Actually, that might work. As long as itís non-denominational Jesus, with nary a cross in sight and maybe with a child or few. Perhaps enjoying a bag of M&Mís. This was a favorite Catholic school joke of mine, back in the day. This is probably why karma is slapping me around with the crazy this week. Yesterday I was verbally abused by someone who had pinned all of his hopes and dreams on a Television commercial. Walking around his truck, we discussed each dent, ding, scratch, and extensive surface rusting on his truck. Each item discussed was given a price. And then we went inside and all of my notes and remarks were totaled up. And that total was a lot higher than $250. There was a beat, a small moment of silence, a slight intake of breath. And then a tirade of near insanity, complete with a litany of personal insults. This morning it was a man 4 hours away offended that I would not drive to Idaho in order to write him a free estimate. He had a stroke and could not drive. And yet he wanted to paint his car. He will be calling the Better Business Bureau on me, for my false internet advertising.

And my Christmas Parking Miracle? Still has not happened. But itís not yet Christmas Eve. So Iíll hold out for hope. And be wary for three visitors sent to teach me a valuable lesson.

previous - next

Zen and don't cry out loud - 2007-07-29

Zen and the stumbling rocks of fitness - 2007-07-19

- - 2007-07-11

Zen and fasting - 2007-06-20

Zen and hiccups - 2007-06-18

Guestbook Notes

Hosted byDiaryland