lunes, diciembre 31

Red Meat (Best Of...#1)

The week has passed yet somehow I am still preparing for last Monday. It's the short weeks, like this past one, that make me think of a week as an accordion. (Not surprising since when playing word association my answers are always instruments.) They both are parts in the middle that matter and change the notes, but it's the end of the accordion where all the fun is going on. That spot where twiddling digits flick over holes and press keys can be considered the nexus of the polka universe. The end of my week is the driving (or cosmic) force behind my universe. Yes, that's right, my life can be best described as an accordian. Or at least I tell myself that to not admit that Loverboy was right, everybody is working for the weekend. I fear that truth spells doom, but the accordion metaphor will get me through the day. You can take that golden wrapped shit-nugget for all its worth.

I woke up today to go to work and noticed I had a missed call from my boss on my mobile. I had missed the call by half an hour; so unsuprisignly, when I called him back but there was no answer. He left a message, but I never listen to my messages and everyone leaves messages. This meant that I had 36 other messages to listen to before I got to his. That amount is way out ofmy oft documented toleration zone, in case you're wondering if I listened to them. The result- I went to work and no one was there. The office had closed due to flood warnings.

It's some minutes past noon and I have spent the past hour outside cleaning the inside of my car, the sun was shining the whole way through. Now unless some tidal wave, or let me say tsunami, (to sound japa-cool/thai-unsensitive) has come into town and been unable to make it past the palmetto x-way then I can't fathom how downtown Coral Gables can be flooded. Maybe the area was threatened to be flooded with South Americans and expensive restaurants, but that's another story.

This means I'm officially done with my internship. There's also a surprise happy ending to it. I'm going to be getting some type of financial compensation for the work I did. Thank the Lord.

The way I know I'm getting the bonus is b/c I sat in my office staring at the walls. After realizing no one was going to show up I spent fifteen minutes listening to messages that say 'call me back' 36 different ways in the same language (this has to be some type of grammatical feat of Guiness proportions). I think there was maybe 2 funny messages, which kept me afloat. Do people not realize I have a thing on my phone that tells me whose call I missed? Everyone knows that cell phones have caller id. Is it perceived that I'll look at my phone, see I have a missed call and say "hey, look who called, I'm sure if they really wanted to talk they'll leave a message?"

This is how it works for me- I miss your call, and I know you, then I'm going to call you back. I'm not going to listen to you prep me on what I'm about to talk to you about and then call you. I'm not a fighter pilot, I'm not a talk show host, you aren't a guest on my program, we can just jump into a conversation, there's no cards to read off of, that mug doesn't have coffee in it.

Wow I really come off sounding like crabby old man. Must be the flood.



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