I have long thought of a day when having a Costco membership would make sense. Years on my own, the life of a single man doesn’t lend to bulk shopping on the scale that makes sense to hold a Costco membership. And then, one day came a few months ago, when it started to make sense.
I remember it: We went in to review the items available at Costco. We walked around, perused the aisles (almost all of them), and took note of the prices. “Some good, some OK, some were not,” I said. After some time walking the never-ending building, we proceeded home.
The very next day: Costco coupons arrived in the mail, by no request of my own. In fact, it appeared to be a sign of sorts, one that said: a Costco membership makes sense.
I flipped the pages, looking at the coupon savings and noting that from this packet alone I would make up for the cost of a basic Costco membership. Indeed, add to the coupon savings the already-low-priced items at Costco and suddenly it did make sense: this year’s membership will be worthwhile, at the very least, because of this one packet of coupons alone, plus the already built-in savings of Costco prices.
The following weekend it was back to Costco, to peruse the aisles again just to be sure. Instead, upon arrival, I took the plunge: not only did I become a Costco member, I became an Executive Costco member. (I understand there is some prestige to the “executive” connotation. I don’t get it, but that’s why I capitalized the “e” here.)
Why, pray tell, did I opt for the double-the-cost of a basic Costco membership? Because of the additional savings (read: savings potential) that comes with said Executive membership. (If you’re not familiar, perhaps it’s time to become acquainted with the additional 2% reward on most Costco purchases, plus the 1+% from American Express if you opt that route.) (Yes, I realize how much money one needs to spend to recoup the membership fee based solely on the percentage-reward.)
Flash forward a few months to today.
Is it worth it? Is it all hoped it to be?
The short of it: yes.
The long of it: I have been to Costco an average of every-other-weekend since I purchased the membership. I find myself saving regularly on: bread, canned goods, paper products, meats (those I have bought thus far), Christmas gifts, snacks (I try to be healthy), miscellaneous food items (too many to list), and last but not least: savings at their gas station.
Let me remind you that I recouped the cost of the basic membership simply with that initial coupon mailing. There has since been two additional coupon mailings that brought further savings. Already, less than three (yes, 3) months into the Executive membership, I not only recouped the basic membership fee, but I’m on the cusp of recouping the Executive membership fee as well.
Did I mention there’s a liquor store attached to the Costco I frequent? They also have respectable savings on the items I purchase in that category.
…
Hello. My name is Jason, and I’m a Costcoholic. I consider it a love affair, which is likely the root of my problem with Costco. Please don’t try to separate us.
_
Showing posts with label Alcohol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alcohol. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Is blogging dead?
It is for me, or so it seems.
It’s been a long time since I seriously sat with the intent of writing a post, be it poetry/prose or the non-writing blog content. For a long time I’ve thought about splitting this blog in two in order to keep those two seemingly different content types apart, mostly out of respect for each audience type.
And then there’s Twitter. And my iPad. And food. And alcohol. And life. And school (again). They all get in the way and take away attention and interest from this. From here. From you.
But honestly, I’d like to reconnect with you. See if we can’t re-light the flame that has seemingly extinguished.
So hello again, again, and probably another again. Here we are: face to face.
What do you think? What do you think about the content split? What are your thoughts?
Who am I kidding… I’m the only one who’s reading this. (Except for you, you’re apparently reading this as well.)
Back on point: is blogging dead? I guess we all face this question at some point or another if we’ve ever associated with blogging in any way. But I think I have the answer:
Blogging dies or lives for each one of us; it never dies as a whole. Blogging dies if you ignore it or don’t partake – it lives so long as you pay attention to it. But, know that so long as one person pays attention to it, it will always be alive.
And at last check of my Google Reader, quite a few people pay attention on one side or the other. So no – blogging is not dead.
_
It’s been a long time since I seriously sat with the intent of writing a post, be it poetry/prose or the non-writing blog content. For a long time I’ve thought about splitting this blog in two in order to keep those two seemingly different content types apart, mostly out of respect for each audience type.
And then there’s Twitter. And my iPad. And food. And alcohol. And life. And school (again). They all get in the way and take away attention and interest from this. From here. From you.
But honestly, I’d like to reconnect with you. See if we can’t re-light the flame that has seemingly extinguished.
So hello again, again, and probably another again. Here we are: face to face.
What do you think? What do you think about the content split? What are your thoughts?
Who am I kidding… I’m the only one who’s reading this. (Except for you, you’re apparently reading this as well.)
Back on point: is blogging dead? I guess we all face this question at some point or another if we’ve ever associated with blogging in any way. But I think I have the answer:
Blogging dies or lives for each one of us; it never dies as a whole. Blogging dies if you ignore it or don’t partake – it lives so long as you pay attention to it. But, know that so long as one person pays attention to it, it will always be alive.
And at last check of my Google Reader, quite a few people pay attention on one side or the other. So no – blogging is not dead.
_
Monday, June 13, 2011
Questionable Acts with Food and Drink, Part One.
After writing about my nacho incident I realized that I had other stories regarding food and drink that would bring my character into question. I think it’s best to share these stories with you. Here’s part one. You’re welcome.
“The Turkey Club”
It was already an eventful night: people getting in trouble with their girlfriends for being a wingman; too much alcohol for some; people tripping up the stairs and spilling beer all over their clothes; and a random woman screaming at me “TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF! REAL MEN FROM OKLAHOMA TAKE THEIR SHIRTS OFF!” while standing in line for a beer, even though I’m not from Oklahoma… all while taking in a country music show.
But the highlight of the evening took place after the event when we went to a nearby restaurant to eat and drink even more.
We arrived at the place and found it to be wall-to-wall packed. Understandably, we opted to leave and go elsewhere, if not home altogether.
On the way out, we walked past the hostess station. The front side was near impassable and I was drunk, so I walked behind since no one was standing there.
As we passed through we saw a to-go container sitting there. And just like the nachos, this box looked lonely, too. No one was close enough to claim it. And we certainly couldn’t let whatever it was go to waste.
So of course someone (likely to be TheGreatCon) decided it best to take the container and run out the door… what with being drunk and hungry and all.
After sprinting across the parking lot, we stopped to survey our bounty and consume whatever was inside the container.
We opened to find half a turkey club sandwich. And without hesitation, I grabbed my portion and started to eat.
TheGreatCon followed suit, but only after some disbelief in me jumping right in for a bite. And then he cried in complaint that there was tomato on the sandwich.
…A sandwich which we did not order.
…One that we could not customize ourselves.
…As if he could complain in any fashion whatsoever.
And then we went home.
The end.
Wait. No, that’s not how the night ended.
So then we were ON OUR WAY HOME when someone (again, likely to be TheGreatCon) informed us that he needed to vomit.
So we pulled off the highway, turned, turned, drove and turned, and finally found a dark place to pull over for him to take care of business.
He exited the vehicle, went over to the chain-link fence, and proceeded to gag himself.
After being unable to make himself throw up, he called me out of the car to keep him company. And then I offered to help him throw up by punching him in the stomach.
He agreed.
So I told him I would hit on the count of three, but then I actually punched him at ‘two’ like the surprise-maker I can be, which did nothing more than surprise-punch him and did not result in vomiting.
I guess at that point I got back in the car and waited for him to finish up.
And THEN we went home.
The real end.
_
Follow me on Twitter! (It might be worth it.)
_
“The Turkey Club”
It was already an eventful night: people getting in trouble with their girlfriends for being a wingman; too much alcohol for some; people tripping up the stairs and spilling beer all over their clothes; and a random woman screaming at me “TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF! REAL MEN FROM OKLAHOMA TAKE THEIR SHIRTS OFF!” while standing in line for a beer, even though I’m not from Oklahoma… all while taking in a country music show.
But the highlight of the evening took place after the event when we went to a nearby restaurant to eat and drink even more.
We arrived at the place and found it to be wall-to-wall packed. Understandably, we opted to leave and go elsewhere, if not home altogether.
On the way out, we walked past the hostess station. The front side was near impassable and I was drunk, so I walked behind since no one was standing there.
As we passed through we saw a to-go container sitting there. And just like the nachos, this box looked lonely, too. No one was close enough to claim it. And we certainly couldn’t let whatever it was go to waste.
So of course someone (likely to be TheGreatCon) decided it best to take the container and run out the door… what with being drunk and hungry and all.
After sprinting across the parking lot, we stopped to survey our bounty and consume whatever was inside the container.
We opened to find half a turkey club sandwich. And without hesitation, I grabbed my portion and started to eat.
TheGreatCon followed suit, but only after some disbelief in me jumping right in for a bite. And then he cried in complaint that there was tomato on the sandwich.
…A sandwich which we did not order.
…One that we could not customize ourselves.
…As if he could complain in any fashion whatsoever.
And then we went home.
The end.
Wait. No, that’s not how the night ended.
So then we were ON OUR WAY HOME when someone (again, likely to be TheGreatCon) informed us that he needed to vomit.
So we pulled off the highway, turned, turned, drove and turned, and finally found a dark place to pull over for him to take care of business.
He exited the vehicle, went over to the chain-link fence, and proceeded to gag himself.
After being unable to make himself throw up, he called me out of the car to keep him company. And then I offered to help him throw up by punching him in the stomach.
He agreed.
So I told him I would hit on the count of three, but then I actually punched him at ‘two’ like the surprise-maker I can be, which did nothing more than surprise-punch him and did not result in vomiting.
I guess at that point I got back in the car and waited for him to finish up.
And THEN we went home.
The real end.
_
Follow me on Twitter! (It might be worth it.)
_
Friday, June 10, 2011
Yes, I ate them. Sue me.
One night I went to a concert. I drank ahead of time like I usually do in order to A) save money, and B) get the ball rolling.
At one point during the evening, likely between bands or something like that and after being well-oiled with liquor, I was near one of the snack bar areas taking a rest.
Here’s what I found, sitting there all alone by itself, as if someone forgot about it:
It looked so lonely.
And I was suddenly hungry.
And after much deliberation, including phone calls and texts to friends in hopes of helping me find the best way to handle such a situation, I left it like this:
…Why yes, yes I did eat a random order of nachos that were just sitting around in public.
And yes, of course I was drunk.
And yes, they were good.
_
Follow me on Twitter! (It might be worth it.)
_
At one point during the evening, likely between bands or something like that and after being well-oiled with liquor, I was near one of the snack bar areas taking a rest.
Here’s what I found, sitting there all alone by itself, as if someone forgot about it:
And I was suddenly hungry.
And after much deliberation, including phone calls and texts to friends in hopes of helping me find the best way to handle such a situation, I left it like this:
…Why yes, yes I did eat a random order of nachos that were just sitting around in public.
And yes, of course I was drunk.
And yes, they were good.
_
Follow me on Twitter! (It might be worth it.)
_
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Planes, beers, and confusions – Oh my!
I’m back from Chicago. Alive.
You may not know I went, probably because I didn’t say anything on account of the surprise party I was attending. But now you may know that I was there. If you didn’t already via twitter.
It was a good time. And I missed you all. Now, on to some highlights:
1) 4:30pm Saturday: Cincinnati Reds fan passed out drunk next to me at the hotel bar. Didn’t wake after the manager tried to wake him. I assumed he was dead. He was not. Or, is a zombie.
2) Late night Saturday: with half a sheet cake on my lap sitting in backseat, I laugh, and thus cry hysterically, over nothing (apparently), whilst eating a soft pretzel. Some of it falls out of my mouth. Icing gets on my jacket as well as the seat. Icing can still be found on said seat.
3) (blurry haze of confusion)
4) Pizza, beef sammich, Chicago dog. No White Castle though, so I can’t die just yet.
5) (more blurry haze of confusion)
6) (Definitely missing something else of relative importance. You’re loss, though.)
7) Beer.
That about sums it up. You may leave now.
_
Follow me on Twitter!
If you follow the blog, you should follow the Twitter, because really – my life is that much more exciting than yours. (Not really, but you should still follow the Twitter.)
_
You may not know I went, probably because I didn’t say anything on account of the surprise party I was attending. But now you may know that I was there. If you didn’t already via twitter.
It was a good time. And I missed you all. Now, on to some highlights:
1) 4:30pm Saturday: Cincinnati Reds fan passed out drunk next to me at the hotel bar. Didn’t wake after the manager tried to wake him. I assumed he was dead. He was not. Or, is a zombie.
2) Late night Saturday: with half a sheet cake on my lap sitting in backseat, I laugh, and thus cry hysterically, over nothing (apparently), whilst eating a soft pretzel. Some of it falls out of my mouth. Icing gets on my jacket as well as the seat. Icing can still be found on said seat.
3) (blurry haze of confusion)
4) Pizza, beef sammich, Chicago dog. No White Castle though, so I can’t die just yet.
5) (more blurry haze of confusion)
6) (Definitely missing something else of relative importance. You’re loss, though.)
7) Beer.
That about sums it up. You may leave now.
_
Follow me on Twitter!
If you follow the blog, you should follow the Twitter, because really – my life is that much more exciting than yours. (Not really, but you should still follow the Twitter.)
_
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A random note from drunkenness
I went to enter a note into my phone and found this:
“I don't know how to put this, but, a small person came briskly walking by, tripped, recovered, and a following individual exclaimed to me: safety first!”
“I slowly turned around to write this.”
…I can only assume that by ‘small person’ I meant ‘midget’, and by ‘tripped’ I meant ‘fell the fuck down’.
...I can also only assume that by ‘slowly turned around to write this’ I meant ‘I couldn’t help myself from laughing and had to make a note of the hilarity I’ve just witnessed because I’m alone and have no one else to verbally express myself to’, and, ‘I’m also probably drunk at the moment’.
_
Follow on Twitter!
-
Follow the feed!
_
“I don't know how to put this, but, a small person came briskly walking by, tripped, recovered, and a following individual exclaimed to me: safety first!”
“I slowly turned around to write this.”
…I can only assume that by ‘small person’ I meant ‘midget’, and by ‘tripped’ I meant ‘fell the fuck down’.
...I can also only assume that by ‘slowly turned around to write this’ I meant ‘I couldn’t help myself from laughing and had to make a note of the hilarity I’ve just witnessed because I’m alone and have no one else to verbally express myself to’, and, ‘I’m also probably drunk at the moment’.
_
Follow on Twitter!
-
Follow the feed!
_
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Extending whoopee
So we went out for dinner and drinks. I had the worst Mexican food I’ve ever had. This post will not be about that.
This post is about what happened after dinner, after the half-pitcher of margaritas, and after a few drinks at the next place.
Perhaps it was too loud… Perhaps there was too much alcohol... Or perhaps we’re just hard of hearing…
The old man who was clearly drunk decided to stop and say to us as he walked by:
“I don’t know either of you, but he’s extending you whoopee.”
Now, I don’t know how one extends whoopee exactly, and in all honesty I really don’t even know what that means. I’m still pretty confused about it actually.
What I do know is that it’s very odd for a stranger, and old man stranger especially, to approach a couple and say something about extending whoopee in one direction or another. I mean, is “extending whoopee” a common phrase that I’ve somehow missed my entire life?
Can you take back this whoopee once it’s extended?
Can you adjust how far you extend your whoopee?
Is whoopee something you can eat?
Or is it purely ornamental?
I didn’t see any of this so-called whoopee extending anywhere, so I’m definitely lost here.
This post is about what happened after dinner, after the half-pitcher of margaritas, and after a few drinks at the next place.
Perhaps it was too loud… Perhaps there was too much alcohol... Or perhaps we’re just hard of hearing…
The old man who was clearly drunk decided to stop and say to us as he walked by:
“I don’t know either of you, but he’s extending you whoopee.”
Now, I don’t know how one extends whoopee exactly, and in all honesty I really don’t even know what that means. I’m still pretty confused about it actually.
What I do know is that it’s very odd for a stranger, and old man stranger especially, to approach a couple and say something about extending whoopee in one direction or another. I mean, is “extending whoopee” a common phrase that I’ve somehow missed my entire life?
Can you take back this whoopee once it’s extended?
Can you adjust how far you extend your whoopee?
Is whoopee something you can eat?
Or is it purely ornamental?
I didn’t see any of this so-called whoopee extending anywhere, so I’m definitely lost here.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Oh, Saint Patrick, patron saint of… wait, what?
Oh, Saint Patrick, patron saint of something, purveyor of amateur night, and little-g-god of alcohol lust. You are, and will always be, special to many in this world, and held close to our heart for most of our lives.
We thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for your willingness to die for our alcohol consumption and our bastardization of the color green.
May you rest in peace. Amen.
Wait, what? That’s not what Pat was about?
Oh… well then… Congrats for being Irish? Or British? Or a Brit capture by the Green team, enslaved, escaped, then returned as a bishop to the Green team’s land by own free will?
Interesting…
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
We thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for your willingness to die for our alcohol consumption and our bastardization of the color green.
May you rest in peace. Amen.
Wait, what? That’s not what Pat was about?
Oh… well then… Congrats for being Irish? Or British? Or a Brit capture by the Green team, enslaved, escaped, then returned as a bishop to the Green team’s land by own free will?
Interesting…
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Monday, March 14, 2011
Dear, good time: I had you. Again.
This past weekend was full of activity, primarily due to The String Cheese Incident run on March 10th, 11th, and 12th.
I can’t possibly recap or review; there was just too much, and I could never do it justice. It’s one of those things you have to experience first-hand to appreciate, understand, or even begin to grasp.
But, it would be uncharacteristic of me to give up so easily. Instead, I offer you my (then) real-time updates from the @WrkspcWrtngs Twitter account (follow now if you haven’t already). And no, there’s no “I’m going to get a beer right at this moment” or “I’m currently eating a hot dog” or “I’m standing in line and am cold” or anything insignificant like that. I do my best to shy away from such annoyances.
So, without further ado, behold:
Thursday, March 10th, 2011:
-So far this evening I have seen buzz lightyear and a giant penguin. I suppose that’s a win. Right?
-And also a man wearing a black onesy(sp?) with a bunch of eyes all over it. That move.
Friday, March 11th, 2011
-Already: 2 cow costumes and a Who.
-And one of those giant furry fetish cat costumes.
-This can mean only one thing: I’m buying a costume before tomorrow’s show.
-And one of those Chinese dragons, but small enough to wrap around a neck.
-Men with lighted hula hoops shouldn’t happen. Imho.
-And now a juggler rolling through the crowd on a glowing ball.
-Wait. What is that! A man in a penis costume, complete with testicles? Yup. Sure is.
-And of course more people on stilts.
-And a guy next to me was just tackled by security.
-I may or may not die by hula hoop.
-I turn around, find a circle of ppl, 1 guy in the middle, puking all over. Lovely.
Saturday, March 12th, 2011:
-Sold out show tonight. How will I ever have room for my interpretive dancing?!
-Maybe don’t bring a wallet the size of Africa. Just sayin.
-I found the Burger King. Let the night begin.
-That cat I mentioned last night? Standing next to me.
-Not sure, but I think that was an interpretive dancing mosh pit.
-No joke: some dude just put ketchup on his soft pretzel.
-Well this is a logistical nightmare: apparently they’re trying to get a parade together to go around the venue.
-But I just had a grilled cheese, so it’ll be ok.
-{picture taken and shared}
-{picture taken and shared}
-{picture taken and shared}
-You have to be here.
-{picture taken and shared}
-Giant beach balls {picture taken and shared}
-And just like that it’s over.
Oh, and for those counting at home: no water bottle cap issues this time around.
And for your continued interest in my String Cheese experience, read about my first go-round with the band last year: Dear, good time: I had you.
I can’t possibly recap or review; there was just too much, and I could never do it justice. It’s one of those things you have to experience first-hand to appreciate, understand, or even begin to grasp.
But, it would be uncharacteristic of me to give up so easily. Instead, I offer you my (then) real-time updates from the @WrkspcWrtngs Twitter account (follow now if you haven’t already). And no, there’s no “I’m going to get a beer right at this moment” or “I’m currently eating a hot dog” or “I’m standing in line and am cold” or anything insignificant like that. I do my best to shy away from such annoyances.
So, without further ado, behold:
Thursday, March 10th, 2011:
-So far this evening I have seen buzz lightyear and a giant penguin. I suppose that’s a win. Right?
-And also a man wearing a black onesy(sp?) with a bunch of eyes all over it. That move.
Friday, March 11th, 2011
-Already: 2 cow costumes and a Who.
-And one of those giant furry fetish cat costumes.
-This can mean only one thing: I’m buying a costume before tomorrow’s show.
-And one of those Chinese dragons, but small enough to wrap around a neck.
-Men with lighted hula hoops shouldn’t happen. Imho.
-And now a juggler rolling through the crowd on a glowing ball.
-Wait. What is that! A man in a penis costume, complete with testicles? Yup. Sure is.
-And of course more people on stilts.
-And a guy next to me was just tackled by security.
-I may or may not die by hula hoop.
-I turn around, find a circle of ppl, 1 guy in the middle, puking all over. Lovely.
Saturday, March 12th, 2011:
-Sold out show tonight. How will I ever have room for my interpretive dancing?!
-Maybe don’t bring a wallet the size of Africa. Just sayin.
-I found the Burger King. Let the night begin.
-That cat I mentioned last night? Standing next to me.
-Not sure, but I think that was an interpretive dancing mosh pit.
-No joke: some dude just put ketchup on his soft pretzel.
-Well this is a logistical nightmare: apparently they’re trying to get a parade together to go around the venue.
-But I just had a grilled cheese, so it’ll be ok.
-{picture taken and shared}
-{picture taken and shared}
-{picture taken and shared}
-You have to be here.
-{picture taken and shared}
-Giant beach balls {picture taken and shared}
-And just like that it’s over.
Oh, and for those counting at home: no water bottle cap issues this time around.
And for your continued interest in my String Cheese experience, read about my first go-round with the band last year: Dear, good time: I had you.
Friday, March 4, 2011
My apologies to Russia – I never meant to ignore you
I would like to take this time to offer Russia the same open letter that I wrote to Ukraine yesterday, because apparently I’m kind of a big deal there as well: aside from the US, Russia is my largest fan. GO VODKA!
Dear, Russia –
I’m sorry. I never meant to ignore you. Can you ever forgive me?
I would also enjoy an all-expenses paid trip to your land for the purpose of (again) speaking English, and drinking your national drink – vodka (also a la Anthony Bourdain) – and traversing your vast land all while live-blogging the journey.
I hope to hear from you soon.
Sorry again.
Sincerely,
JRM
_
Dear, Russia –
I’m sorry. I never meant to ignore you. Can you ever forgive me?
I would also enjoy an all-expenses paid trip to your land for the purpose of (again) speaking English, and drinking your national drink – vodka (also a la Anthony Bourdain) – and traversing your vast land all while live-blogging the journey.
I hope to hear from you soon.
Sorry again.
Sincerely,
JRM
_
Thursday, March 3, 2011
An Open Letter to Ukraine
(and also chess – but not “An Open Letter to Chess” also – that would be weird)
---
I have 14 active chess games on my Android chess app. Why 14? Because the first 13 are entirely too slow (minus Con Lee’s games, and sometimes JRG’s, too). Sure, the rules say you have 3 days to move, but really… come on. If you need to take 3 days to make one move you probably shouldn’t join the game in the first place.
On another note, I’m kind of a big deal in Ukraine, which is kind of exciting.
Maybe they’ll send for me and provide an all-expenses paid trip to their country for the purpose of speaking English and live-blogging my travels through their countryside a la Anthony Bourdain, which sounds like a good time to me.
In fact, so much so that I’ll do this:
Dear, Ukraine –
Please send for me and provide an all-expenses paid trip to visit your land so I can show off your wonderful country. Maybe we can also play some chess while I’m there, so long as it’s much faster than one-move-every-three-days.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
JRM
_
---
I have 14 active chess games on my Android chess app. Why 14? Because the first 13 are entirely too slow (minus Con Lee’s games, and sometimes JRG’s, too). Sure, the rules say you have 3 days to move, but really… come on. If you need to take 3 days to make one move you probably shouldn’t join the game in the first place.
On another note, I’m kind of a big deal in Ukraine, which is kind of exciting.
Maybe they’ll send for me and provide an all-expenses paid trip to their country for the purpose of speaking English and live-blogging my travels through their countryside a la Anthony Bourdain, which sounds like a good time to me.
In fact, so much so that I’ll do this:
Dear, Ukraine –
Please send for me and provide an all-expenses paid trip to visit your land so I can show off your wonderful country. Maybe we can also play some chess while I’m there, so long as it’s much faster than one-move-every-three-days.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
JRM
_
Monday, February 14, 2011
The most important of all tickets…
I went to the Umphrey’s McGee show Friday night. Other than the show being great, it turned out to be pretty eventful.
While in line halfway to the door, my friend turned to me and said she lost her ticket. The very same ticket I gave her earlier before standing in line, for which she hadn’t paid me yet.
She proceeded to purchase another ticket while I went inside and met up with me later.
Once inside, I checked my coat and received a ticket for it. I proceeded to get a drink and then headed to the floor.
After a while into the show, I purchased another drink.
After an even longer time, I reached into my pocket to take inventory of its contents, something I regularly do when out in public, and which I had done previously in the night.
I realized then I had lost my ticket, much like my friend had lost her ticket earlier in the evening. Under normal circumstances I would have thought nothing of it because I was already inside… but this was not a normal circumstance.
You see, I had ticket number 1. The first ticket of all tickets to the show. THEE very first ticket sold. Numero uno. Ticket #1.
You can imagine that it was very, very disappointing to learn I had lost my ticket. Thus began a formal search of the floor – everywhere I had been standing after getting the second drink.
So there I was, while band playing, wandering slowly with drink in hand all around the venue where I had been previously. Unfortunately, after some time of looking in places, re-looking, and going back again to the same places a third time, I hadn’t found my ticket. I found other pieces of paper, but not my ticket. Not ticket #1. Nor did I find any other numbered ticket.
All the while, I kept checking my pockets, all of them, again and again, in disbelief that I had lost my ticket, in hopes of finding it hanging out as if nothing happened (perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me?).
Each time I checked my pockets no ticket appeared.
However, the other ticket was still in my pocket, which is when I realized that the concert ticket really isn’t of great importance, and I was making a big deal of nothing.
And that’s when it hit me – I still held the most important of all tickets… the coat check ticket!
You see, if you lost that ticket, you’re likely never to see your coat again, making it truly, the most important of all tickets.
Of course, after time went by, still in disbelief, I reached into my pocket again to check – and what did I find along with the most important of all tickets?
Ticket number 1.
Hanging out.
Just sittin’ in my pocket. Snug-like the entire time.
Apparently playing magic-man with me all night long.
_
While in line halfway to the door, my friend turned to me and said she lost her ticket. The very same ticket I gave her earlier before standing in line, for which she hadn’t paid me yet.
She proceeded to purchase another ticket while I went inside and met up with me later.
Once inside, I checked my coat and received a ticket for it. I proceeded to get a drink and then headed to the floor.
After a while into the show, I purchased another drink.
After an even longer time, I reached into my pocket to take inventory of its contents, something I regularly do when out in public, and which I had done previously in the night.
I realized then I had lost my ticket, much like my friend had lost her ticket earlier in the evening. Under normal circumstances I would have thought nothing of it because I was already inside… but this was not a normal circumstance.
You see, I had ticket number 1. The first ticket of all tickets to the show. THEE very first ticket sold. Numero uno. Ticket #1.
You can imagine that it was very, very disappointing to learn I had lost my ticket. Thus began a formal search of the floor – everywhere I had been standing after getting the second drink.
So there I was, while band playing, wandering slowly with drink in hand all around the venue where I had been previously. Unfortunately, after some time of looking in places, re-looking, and going back again to the same places a third time, I hadn’t found my ticket. I found other pieces of paper, but not my ticket. Not ticket #1. Nor did I find any other numbered ticket.
All the while, I kept checking my pockets, all of them, again and again, in disbelief that I had lost my ticket, in hopes of finding it hanging out as if nothing happened (perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me?).
Each time I checked my pockets no ticket appeared.
However, the other ticket was still in my pocket, which is when I realized that the concert ticket really isn’t of great importance, and I was making a big deal of nothing.
And that’s when it hit me – I still held the most important of all tickets… the coat check ticket!
You see, if you lost that ticket, you’re likely never to see your coat again, making it truly, the most important of all tickets.
Of course, after time went by, still in disbelief, I reached into my pocket again to check – and what did I find along with the most important of all tickets?
Ticket number 1.
Hanging out.
Just sittin’ in my pocket. Snug-like the entire time.
Apparently playing magic-man with me all night long.
_
Monday, January 24, 2011
Saving a life with 30 Seconds To Mars
Friday evening I attended the 30 Seconds To Mars show. You may recall the last time I saw them. This time around was also a good show (even though the show concluded before 10pm), however, a little more eventful in some ways. Please keep reading for the story. It’s sure to be a nail-biter… or not.
You see, we were standing at center stage in the middle of the crowd, at a point where Jared (the lead singer) had everyone take 3 steps forward 3 times during the course of the first few songs (I’m sure you can imagine how we were all packed in, literally, like sardines) When all of a sudden, the crowd in front of me parted and a guy and his girlfriend appeared in a clear attempt to walk to the back of the crowd.
After focusing, I realized he was carrying this girl and was clearly having trouble as she was obviously passed out. I imagine at the start of their journey she faced him with arms wrapped around his neck as he began to walk her backward, and that all was going to be OK for them. By this point, however, she was slumping to the floor – her face in his chest, and his hands desperately holding on below her shoulders.
Xtina quickly prompted me to give him a hand getting the girl out of the crowd (I assume it was my inebriation that didn’t allow me to notice his need for help sooner). I asked if he wanted help, he signaled yes, I slung her into my arms, and off we went pushing through the crowd as I yelled for people to move aside, pardoning and thanking the entire way. The guy was behind me holding her feet, although there was no need since I had her fully in my arms, braced with my left arm under her knees and my right arm under back.
At some point the girl decided to come to, which I’m sure was a little surprising for her to find herself being carried away by a strange man with a hat and a beard, probably much like a soon-to-be bad dream, a kidnapping, or other strange movie scene (unnecessary clarification: I sometimes like to go incognito when in public – full beard, hat, and unsuspecting attire; I don’t like when the paparazzi snap pictures of me. It can be tolling at times. …But I digress).
Fortunately though, she saw her boyfriend in front of her. Unfortunately for me though, concerned for her wellbeing, she tried to sit up in my arms, leaning in the opposite direction from which we were traveling in an attempt to grab hold of her man and claw her way into his arms. Needless to say, this resulted in a very uncomfortable carrying experience for me, which if it weren’t for her coming to, would have been a textbook extraction of a person from the middle of a densely-packed crowd.
Finally, we arrived at a clearing, set her down, the two thanked me, I told them to get water and relax, I turned to go back into the crowd, and realized I was unable to get back to my date. Which was unfortunate because Xtina and I spent the rest of the show trying to find each other after she insisted she was at the first bar on the right when walking back from the stage (which was exactly where I was the entire time, and where I had dropped off the guy & gal combo), when in reality she was at the last bar all the way at the back of the venue… But it was worth it.
_
You see, we were standing at center stage in the middle of the crowd, at a point where Jared (the lead singer) had everyone take 3 steps forward 3 times during the course of the first few songs (I’m sure you can imagine how we were all packed in, literally, like sardines) When all of a sudden, the crowd in front of me parted and a guy and his girlfriend appeared in a clear attempt to walk to the back of the crowd.
After focusing, I realized he was carrying this girl and was clearly having trouble as she was obviously passed out. I imagine at the start of their journey she faced him with arms wrapped around his neck as he began to walk her backward, and that all was going to be OK for them. By this point, however, she was slumping to the floor – her face in his chest, and his hands desperately holding on below her shoulders.
Xtina quickly prompted me to give him a hand getting the girl out of the crowd (I assume it was my inebriation that didn’t allow me to notice his need for help sooner). I asked if he wanted help, he signaled yes, I slung her into my arms, and off we went pushing through the crowd as I yelled for people to move aside, pardoning and thanking the entire way. The guy was behind me holding her feet, although there was no need since I had her fully in my arms, braced with my left arm under her knees and my right arm under back.
At some point the girl decided to come to, which I’m sure was a little surprising for her to find herself being carried away by a strange man with a hat and a beard, probably much like a soon-to-be bad dream, a kidnapping, or other strange movie scene (unnecessary clarification: I sometimes like to go incognito when in public – full beard, hat, and unsuspecting attire; I don’t like when the paparazzi snap pictures of me. It can be tolling at times. …But I digress).
Fortunately though, she saw her boyfriend in front of her. Unfortunately for me though, concerned for her wellbeing, she tried to sit up in my arms, leaning in the opposite direction from which we were traveling in an attempt to grab hold of her man and claw her way into his arms. Needless to say, this resulted in a very uncomfortable carrying experience for me, which if it weren’t for her coming to, would have been a textbook extraction of a person from the middle of a densely-packed crowd.
Finally, we arrived at a clearing, set her down, the two thanked me, I told them to get water and relax, I turned to go back into the crowd, and realized I was unable to get back to my date. Which was unfortunate because Xtina and I spent the rest of the show trying to find each other after she insisted she was at the first bar on the right when walking back from the stage (which was exactly where I was the entire time, and where I had dropped off the guy & gal combo), when in reality she was at the last bar all the way at the back of the venue… But it was worth it.
_
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
I need a hobby
I need a hobby. Those of you who are FB friends, you’re already familiar with this. Those of you who are not, well, I need a hobby. Or three. I say three because sometimes I can get bored and fall into disinterest, thus the need to have something else to move on to and return to the first at a later time.
I’ve received a few suggestions, however none of them fit the bill. I need something that can take place in the evenings after work, preferably in one- to two-hour blocks. Brewing beer sounds like a frontrunner, although that’s not something you can do every day, unless you plan on brewing a ridiculous amount of beer, which I do not.
Perhaps brewing beer can be one of my hobbies … but what else? Any thoughts or suggestions? What hobbies do you enjoy?
Joe – if you’re listening, send me a shopping list of my initial equipment needs. Thanks.
_
I’ve received a few suggestions, however none of them fit the bill. I need something that can take place in the evenings after work, preferably in one- to two-hour blocks. Brewing beer sounds like a frontrunner, although that’s not something you can do every day, unless you plan on brewing a ridiculous amount of beer, which I do not.
Perhaps brewing beer can be one of my hobbies … but what else? Any thoughts or suggestions? What hobbies do you enjoy?
Joe – if you’re listening, send me a shopping list of my initial equipment needs. Thanks.
_
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Bugs, dancing, and expressive thought in public restrooms
It seems that every now and then when I’m at a bar or concert something unusual happens while in the restroom. Either it’s while waiting in line, standing at the urinal, or walking in or out the door…
The last time something unusual happened, I posted about it HERE. To recap: I tried to wash a bug down the drain while washing my hands, but the bug didn't get washed down the drain and survived the flood. I rescued it with a paper towel, placed it on the counter, and profusely apologize to it, all while wishing I had my phone to take a picture of it for the blog as it tried to recover from the event and, curiously enough, seemed to acknowledge my existence.
Yup.
And then there was another time I posted about HERE. To recap that one: there was a guy dancing as he stood at the urinal. He wasn’t just swaying back and forth in a drunken fashion; he was literally dancing… at the urinal… while doing his business.
Which brings me to last night at the Sevendust show. The guy standing at the urinal next to me exclaimed rather loudly, “son of a bitch!” as he’s stood there, again, conducting his business. Now, whether or not this was the same guy who was dancing, I don’t know. In fact, I doubt it was. But still, you never know because you never look over to see who’s standing there. Ever.
It seems that when guys are drunk in public restrooms, words and thoughts leap from the mind and into the world rather quickly and openly… perhaps too much so. Whereas back in the barroom area you probably wouldn’t expect some people to be talking to one another, let alone exclaiming personal thoughts while holding their manhood. But in the restroom, it’s fair game for some reason.
_
The last time something unusual happened, I posted about it HERE. To recap: I tried to wash a bug down the drain while washing my hands, but the bug didn't get washed down the drain and survived the flood. I rescued it with a paper towel, placed it on the counter, and profusely apologize to it, all while wishing I had my phone to take a picture of it for the blog as it tried to recover from the event and, curiously enough, seemed to acknowledge my existence.
Yup.
And then there was another time I posted about HERE. To recap that one: there was a guy dancing as he stood at the urinal. He wasn’t just swaying back and forth in a drunken fashion; he was literally dancing… at the urinal… while doing his business.
Which brings me to last night at the Sevendust show. The guy standing at the urinal next to me exclaimed rather loudly, “son of a bitch!” as he’s stood there, again, conducting his business. Now, whether or not this was the same guy who was dancing, I don’t know. In fact, I doubt it was. But still, you never know because you never look over to see who’s standing there. Ever.
It seems that when guys are drunk in public restrooms, words and thoughts leap from the mind and into the world rather quickly and openly… perhaps too much so. Whereas back in the barroom area you probably wouldn’t expect some people to be talking to one another, let alone exclaiming personal thoughts while holding their manhood. But in the restroom, it’s fair game for some reason.
_
Friday, October 22, 2010
Roosters in Texas
Well, that’s it.
We had a conversation with Rooster Man last night. A real conversation. A full-fledged convo.
Well, maybe fledged isn’t the right word. It wasn’t really that full actually, and it certainly wasn’t developed, matured, full-grown, complete, grown, qualified, experienced, of full-blown.
In fact, it was a little awkward; a lot of silence between words and sentences and fragments of sentences.
But that’s ok, because he told us that he wants to move to Texas because it makes his skin soft.
… … … … … … … ……………………….
Yup. Sure did.
----
For more about Rooster Man and his backstory, check out (in sequential order for perspective):
1) Rooster Man and Friday Eve
2) Saving The World, Rooster Man Take-Two, and a cameo by Chalkman
3) No dancing at the urinal & Rooster Man Part III
Thank you. Have a good day.
_
We had a conversation with Rooster Man last night. A real conversation. A full-fledged convo.
Well, maybe fledged isn’t the right word. It wasn’t really that full actually, and it certainly wasn’t developed, matured, full-grown, complete, grown, qualified, experienced, of full-blown.
In fact, it was a little awkward; a lot of silence between words and sentences and fragments of sentences.
But that’s ok, because he told us that he wants to move to Texas because it makes his skin soft.
… … … … … … … ……………………….
Yup. Sure did.
----
For more about Rooster Man and his backstory, check out (in sequential order for perspective):
1) Rooster Man and Friday Eve
2) Saving The World, Rooster Man Take-Two, and a cameo by Chalkman
3) No dancing at the urinal & Rooster Man Part III
Thank you. Have a good day.
_
Friday, October 8, 2010
No dancing at the urinal & Rooster Man Part III
Well, last night was the night we met Rooster Man.
(backstory here and here)
He seemed like a nice guy.
I gave Xtina a dollar and requested that she go up to him, introduce herself, and tell him that we’ve seen him a few times before, and to pick a song on the jukebox together.
That worked out well.
I think we made a new bar friend.
Unfortunately, while the night as a whole was fun and entertaining, there was a guy dancing as he stood at the urinal.
Yeah, maybe just do your business and move along.
No dancing at the urinal, please.
_
(backstory here and here)
He seemed like a nice guy.
I gave Xtina a dollar and requested that she go up to him, introduce herself, and tell him that we’ve seen him a few times before, and to pick a song on the jukebox together.
That worked out well.
I think we made a new bar friend.
Unfortunately, while the night as a whole was fun and entertaining, there was a guy dancing as he stood at the urinal.
Yeah, maybe just do your business and move along.
No dancing at the urinal, please.
_
Monday, October 4, 2010
Saving The World, Rooster Man Take-Two, and a cameo by Chalkman
In my never-ending effort to save the world, I believe I accidentally recycled my notebook for class Saturday morning. I went to do some work Saturday afternoon, and to my disbelief I couldn’t find it. I didn’t really need it, but I wanted to have it with me. Naturally, the search went on for about an hour, but to no avail.
In other news, Rooster Man made another appearance over the weekend. That was fun. He’s always a sight to see. At one point late into the night, he really got into it and was parading around the floor as if it was his ‘yard’ he was patrolling, because that’s what roosters do.
In more other news, earlier that same night when playing some pool at Lucky Strike Lanes (a Hollywood-esque bowling and pool venue), a creepy guy (we’ll call him Chalkman) bothered me. You see, we were playing pool, minding our own business, when all of a sudden Chalkman came over to the table, searched for and grabbed our chalk, turned around and proceeded to chalk his fingers. He then walked away and back to the lane he was bowling on.
Strange enough. But then a little later he came back, but more creepy. I was standing such that the chalk was to my right. I sensed someone standing behind me and reaching to my right. I turned to see he was creepily standing there, trying to reach around me without me knowing, and grabbing the chalk! At that time the waitress came walking by and I nearly missed an opportunity to order another drink on a night when the service was pretty slow. I gave her my order, turned back to find that Chalkman had finished chalking his fingers, put the chalk back where he found it, and went back to his lane.
He stood behind me and reached within INCHES of my body!!!! For CHALK!!!! To USE ON HIS FINGERS!!!!
WTF, creepy Chalkman. Don’t ever do that again.
Thus, I proceeded to move the chalk to the far side of the table in order to see how much more creepily he would try to use our chalk for un-sanctioned reasons.
Fortunately he didn’t try a third time.
_
In other news, Rooster Man made another appearance over the weekend. That was fun. He’s always a sight to see. At one point late into the night, he really got into it and was parading around the floor as if it was his ‘yard’ he was patrolling, because that’s what roosters do.
In more other news, earlier that same night when playing some pool at Lucky Strike Lanes (a Hollywood-esque bowling and pool venue), a creepy guy (we’ll call him Chalkman) bothered me. You see, we were playing pool, minding our own business, when all of a sudden Chalkman came over to the table, searched for and grabbed our chalk, turned around and proceeded to chalk his fingers. He then walked away and back to the lane he was bowling on.
Strange enough. But then a little later he came back, but more creepy. I was standing such that the chalk was to my right. I sensed someone standing behind me and reaching to my right. I turned to see he was creepily standing there, trying to reach around me without me knowing, and grabbing the chalk! At that time the waitress came walking by and I nearly missed an opportunity to order another drink on a night when the service was pretty slow. I gave her my order, turned back to find that Chalkman had finished chalking his fingers, put the chalk back where he found it, and went back to his lane.
He stood behind me and reached within INCHES of my body!!!! For CHALK!!!! To USE ON HIS FINGERS!!!!
WTF, creepy Chalkman. Don’t ever do that again.
Thus, I proceeded to move the chalk to the far side of the table in order to see how much more creepily he would try to use our chalk for un-sanctioned reasons.
Fortunately he didn’t try a third time.
_
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Hula hoop mastery & Jesus Ponies
The other day I went to the Rockstar Uproar festival. Jagermeister was there, as usual, and had a tent where you could get free swag. But nothing in life is free. So what did I have to offer up in return for free swag? I had to hula hoop.
I don’t know the last time I hula hooped, but my brain clearly isn’t wired to handle such stresses on the body. Of course, adding an undertone of alcohol in the bloodstream wasn’t going to help either… or maybe it does, I don’t know.
Either way, I tried to hula hoop. I wanted a shirt. I hula hooped ever so un-graciously, in fact the hula hoop spent most of its time with my knees. They got to know each other a little; who knows, maybe hula will call and ask them out on a date. We’ll see…
Fortunately though, the Jager girls weren’t very strict in their expectations and had little regard for the form required to “win” a shirt – you simply had to try, and gyrate a little, in order to get the shirt.
I got the shirt.
--
Today, I learned about Jesus Ponies. If you’re anything like me and have no idea what they are, go ahead and google it. See what they’re all about.
If you already know what Jesus Ponies are, good for you. Thanks for not sharing with me sooner.
...I could have had a little more fun over the past few years had I known about these things.
_
I don’t know the last time I hula hooped, but my brain clearly isn’t wired to handle such stresses on the body. Of course, adding an undertone of alcohol in the bloodstream wasn’t going to help either… or maybe it does, I don’t know.
Either way, I tried to hula hoop. I wanted a shirt. I hula hooped ever so un-graciously, in fact the hula hoop spent most of its time with my knees. They got to know each other a little; who knows, maybe hula will call and ask them out on a date. We’ll see…
Fortunately though, the Jager girls weren’t very strict in their expectations and had little regard for the form required to “win” a shirt – you simply had to try, and gyrate a little, in order to get the shirt.
I got the shirt.
--
Today, I learned about Jesus Ponies. If you’re anything like me and have no idea what they are, go ahead and google it. See what they’re all about.
If you already know what Jesus Ponies are, good for you. Thanks for not sharing with me sooner.
...I could have had a little more fun over the past few years had I known about these things.
_
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Your customized itemized linky-list of the day
1) Snowmaking starts in just FIVE DAYS!!!!
2) There really are DIAMONDS in the sky!
2a) ‘Diamonds’ doesn’t look right when in all-caps
3) Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
4) Wolf pack
5) Rockstar Uproar today – short day for me!
6) Great American Beer Festival Thursday, Friday, and Saturday
7)
8) What.
9) I miss Vegas
10) I want some NC BBQ
_
2) There really are DIAMONDS in the sky!
2a) ‘Diamonds’ doesn’t look right when in all-caps
3) Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
4) Wolf pack
5) Rockstar Uproar today – short day for me!
6) Great American Beer Festival Thursday, Friday, and Saturday
7)
8) What.
9) I miss Vegas
10) I want some NC BBQ
_
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