Marc
Hello Sunday! Though it is 10:30ish, I still think it's too early. I'm waiting on a load of laundry to get done before I go rambling about the place throwing shit in my suitcase for my last week of work (again). Portland, OR tonight, and with any luck, I'll get there early, relax, and whittle the night away in a fancy hotel room, giving myself facials and intimate foot massages. Or not ... whatever works first.
Went to the Bloomington bars last night, which I'm proud to report is not my bag of tea. There's something about places that hang up fifteen-foot long banners announcing drink specials that I find horrifying. Plus, I just never feel like part of that whole scene. I say stupid things, and all these sophisticated folk that go to the Bloomington bars (much more upscale than our trashy, college bars here in Normal) just kind of look at me, like I'm the idiot brother that they don't really like, but are forced to hang out with once every month or so. That's fine. Fuck 'em. I just also kind of figure screwing saying "hello" to people, too. Way too much work involved there. I consciously caught myself making an excuse to get away from talking to someone I used to work with, and actually telling the people I went to talk to "Hey dudes, just smile at me for a minute, then I'll be out of your hair. It got awkward with that person over there."
"Whatever, Marc ... you fucking weirdo."
And as you're reading all this, keep in mind that I had a panic attack at the Pub (a downscaled version of a frat-boy bar in Normal), so it's not all gravy over here on the Normal side of town. Stick me in a poorly lit, filthy, concrete-hell-of-a-bar, and I should be okay. Well-lit, tie-requiring joints just don't pass muster for me.
In other news - BLARGing from me new laptop. Sweettttt ....
So, I's took the ferry to Morgansville, which was what we called Shelbyville at the time. And it only cost a nickel, and nickel's had a picture of a bee on the front. 'Give me five bees for a quarter, you'd say'. So, where was I? Oh, I had an onion on my belt, as was the style of the time. We didn't have any of them ripe, white ones ... cause of the war. We's only had the yellow ones ...
Hello Sunday! Though it is 10:30ish, I still think it's too early. I'm waiting on a load of laundry to get done before I go rambling about the place throwing shit in my suitcase for my last week of work (again). Portland, OR tonight, and with any luck, I'll get there early, relax, and whittle the night away in a fancy hotel room, giving myself facials and intimate foot massages. Or not ... whatever works first.
Went to the Bloomington bars last night, which I'm proud to report is not my bag of tea. There's something about places that hang up fifteen-foot long banners announcing drink specials that I find horrifying. Plus, I just never feel like part of that whole scene. I say stupid things, and all these sophisticated folk that go to the Bloomington bars (much more upscale than our trashy, college bars here in Normal) just kind of look at me, like I'm the idiot brother that they don't really like, but are forced to hang out with once every month or so. That's fine. Fuck 'em. I just also kind of figure screwing saying "hello" to people, too. Way too much work involved there. I consciously caught myself making an excuse to get away from talking to someone I used to work with, and actually telling the people I went to talk to "Hey dudes, just smile at me for a minute, then I'll be out of your hair. It got awkward with that person over there."
"Whatever, Marc ... you fucking weirdo."
And as you're reading all this, keep in mind that I had a panic attack at the Pub (a downscaled version of a frat-boy bar in Normal), so it's not all gravy over here on the Normal side of town. Stick me in a poorly lit, filthy, concrete-hell-of-a-bar, and I should be okay. Well-lit, tie-requiring joints just don't pass muster for me.
In other news - BLARGing from me new laptop. Sweettttt ....
So, I's took the ferry to Morgansville, which was what we called Shelbyville at the time. And it only cost a nickel, and nickel's had a picture of a bee on the front. 'Give me five bees for a quarter, you'd say'. So, where was I? Oh, I had an onion on my belt, as was the style of the time. We didn't have any of them ripe, white ones ... cause of the war. We's only had the yellow ones ...
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