Friday, June 02, 2006

Nobody Knows the Way I Feel This Morning

monarch coffee ad detail Well, I could obviously use a quiz or a meme to keep things jumping around here lately – I have no particular excuse except a) I’m lazy, and b) it’s way too nice outside to stay indoors and blog.

Since it’s been so nice, let’s take a couple hours out of my day. Think of it as an extra-long episode of 24.“The events of this episode occur between 5 am and 8 am…”.Only without as much suspense. And a lot less torture. And no Kim. We can certainly be happy about that last one, no?

5:23 am
The radio turns on at the designated moment. The station is The Current; however, I have no idea what is playing as the main goal is to stand up as quickly as possible, turn-it-off-turn-it-off-turn-it-off, and stagger to the shower. Cats go flying as I leap from under the covers.
5:25 am
The water runs in the shower as I wait for sufficient heat – being as it is June, it won’t take long. I pee in the shower while I’m waiting, because it seems stupid to use more water for the toilet, plus I don’t want to have to flush it when I’m just getting the water to the right temp. I try to avoid seeing myself in the mirror, because damn.
5:30 am
The water has run over me long enough start feeling conscious. I shampoo what’s left of my hair, and lather for a shave. This nifty no-fog mirror is all fogged up (LIAR!), so I pull it off the wall and run water over it, then stick it back in place. It should hold out long enough for me to finish shaving. POS. It is a mercy that the Fab 5 can’t see me shave, because I do it wrong.

5:35 am
Ethan pokes his head around the shower curtain and yowls. He does not opt to join me in the shower today, as he is sometimes wont to do, loitering around the back end of the tub where the spray doesn’t hit him. He still gets his paws wet, and he has trouble finding his way back out, so I much prefer it when he stays out.
5:48 am
Shampoo, shave, soap, done showering. Towel dry with the fan running.
5:49 am
Brush teeth. Thoroughly. I have no cavities, and I brush for 5 minutes. I also brush my tongue, because otherwise my breath is heinous.
5:54 am
Slap on some antiperspirant, some moisturizer, and take a Q-tip to the ears. Check if the nails have reached a clippable length, and check for nose hairs and eyebrows that have mysteriously quadrupled in size and length. Today, things are pretty good.
5:55 am
Underwear, socks, t-shirt. Yawn. Pet a cat. Yawn.
6:00 am
The radio turns on again, this time for Boo. Were he actually home, he would hit the snooze if the song sucked, and, regardless, lounge about for about another 30 minutes or so. As usual, I turn on the lights. As he has not snoozed the radio, being as he is in Atlanta this weekend, I can listen to The Morning Show. Not one of the better mornings. Some days it’s quite an interesting variety. Today, it is mostly folk and folk-flavored accoutrements. I select trousers and a shirt – khakis and a white polo. I hate polos, but I have no intention of ironing on a sticky Friday morning for a class full of people dressed for casual Friday. I’m teaching today, as I do most Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
6:05 am
Make coffee. Half a pot should do. As usual, there is one scoop too few already ground, and I have to grind some more. While I’m using the sprayer to fill the coffee maker, I also water the violet and orchid in the windowsill.
6:06 am
Log in to the computer, with the intent of seeing the weather report. Rapidly become involved in reading e-mail (spam, spam, spam), and forum posts. Check my blog. Wonder when the hell I’m going to get my next post done. Wonder why someone is looking for “stall stream loud toilet hissing” on Google. Wonder why I have all of those words on my blog. Wonder why I have a blog. Wonder if the coffee is ready.
6:20 am
Pour coffee into oversize mug, top with milk. Pop some toast in the toaster. Realize I forgot to check the weather report online, and don’t know whether this is a bus day(need to leave in 20 minutes) or scooter day(need to leave in 40 minutes).
6:30 am
Finally get the frickin’ weather report. After I check my e-mail (again) and get distracted by the news photo at the top of my Yahoo! page. Sigh. Sip coffee, hope it will make my brain work. Clear to partly-cloudy, high of 84. Scooter it is! Shit, I think I forgot about my toast.
6:31 am
Flip the cold toast over, drop it down again to get browner (and warm again). Slice some sharp cheddar. Almost done with first cup of coffee. Top it up again. Add milk. Shit! Forgot the toast – well, only a little too dark. Eat toast and cheese.
6:44 am
If I were catching the bus, I would need to be outside already. Instead, I pack a lunch. Since it’s a leftover box lunch from Boo’s work event this week, it takes no time. It does take a lot of room, however, so I decide I must leave the gym clothes at home. I’ll go tomorrow. Promise.
6:47 am
Helmet – check. Bag – check. Phone – check. Wallet, keys, etc – check. Cats shut away from the scratchable furniture...nope. Shoo, shoo, shoo. Quit it bitch! Get your ass back there while you still have one! Bad kitty!
6:48 am
Lock back door, open garage. Realize I set my helmet down while I was shooing the cats. Start scooter, detach key from rest of keyring, run into house, grab helmet. On way back out, realize that potted plants are drooping. Let scooter warm up while I grab hose and water the droopy.
What about the window box? Run around to the front of the house. I should take my helmet off; I look like I'm waiting for the short bus. Damn! Pew! The tree-of-death is in full blossom. This is an ash tree in the neighbor, who may be Maxine's yard. It smells like dead bunnies when it blooms. Gag.
Speaking of bunnies, get your crafty ass out from under that arbor vitae, you long-eared galoot. Or something else may smell like dead bunnies. Move it!
While I’m at it, the bird bath looks like it’s been used for bathing monster trucks. Nas-tay. Dump, spray, refill.
While turning off hose, it rubs across my khakis, leaving a mud smear. Motherfucker.
6:59 am
Turn off scooter. Reattach key to keyring. Stomp back inside. Take off shoes, change trousers, godihatethesetrousers, shoes on, heythisbeltdoesn’tmatch, new belt. Get away from that door, Eloise!
Eloise!!
ELOISE!!!
7:10 am
Well, shit, now I’m late. Fucking cat.
7:12 am
End of the alley. Can’t believe they tore a house down on the other side of the block. Looks like they’re pouring a new foundation, though...hope it’s not hideous whatever they’re building.
7:15 am
Minnehaha Parkway. Ah. Lilacs. Much better than tree-of-death!
7:17 am
Minnehaha Parkway. I swear, I always hit this stoplight. Oh, no. A Silverado in front of me. This will be a problem...
7:21 am
Minnehaha Parkway. What kind of psycho golfs at 7 am? “Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses...” fucking Silverado. “...you been out running fences, for so long now...” “Desperado...” fucking Eagles.
7:27 am
Try the "Bob Dylan Cure" – this is a method of killing earworms. An earworm, by the way, comes from the German term Ohrworm. It means one of those songs that gets stuck in your head. And will not leave. Like Desperado does, every fucking time I see a Silverado. It’s a term that seems to be rapidly catching on in the English translation, which I think is a good thing. We didn't have a term when I was a kid. We need a better term than “stupid song that gets stuck in your head, and makes you want to destroy all Chevy trucks...” Hooray for the Internets. Hooray for cross-linguistic pollination.
The Bob Dylan Cure involves clearly and specifically imagining your earworm being sung by Bob Dylan. “OoooohHHH! Desspa RA dOH! Whadoncha COME to yasenSES?” It may be working.
7:30 am
The roundabout – who will brake unexpectedly? Who will not brake?
Oh, the perils of European traffic devices in the Midwest...I make it through safely.
7:32 am
Ford Bridge, St Paul, at last, if I can make it across – this is the windiest place in the Twin Cities, I swear. One day, a big gust will come through, and I’ll be all Margaret Hamilton all the way down to the water.
“Fuck you, my pretties!”
7:35 am
Randolph Avenue. Yes, I’m smaller than you, but I am going the speed limit. Oh, fine. Pass me then. Dumbass. Oh, shit, another Silverado.
7:36 am
Randolph and Fairview, traffic signal. Fat lot of good passing me did, eh? Dumbass. Desspa RA dOH!
7:37 am
Mmmm. Flowers. Nice.
7:40 am
Randolph and Albert. Hey, I think that school over there is Cretin Derham-Hall. Funny, I’ve been passing it all this time, and it never occurred to me. I guess I thought it would be on Cretin Avenue.
Of course, I never noticed the giant topiary hedges spelling out “Cretin” next to the football field before.
I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
7:50am
West 7th Street, almost there! Why is it that even though they just repaired this bridge last year, there’s still this giant ridge of asphalt in my lane? Swerve. I do this every day folks. Impressive, I know.
7:52am
Awesome! It’s “that woman”! I see “that woman” fairly often along this stretch, and she always looks the same. “That woman” is wearing a long purple formal gown. And a white sash. “That woman” has hair that looks like a Daryl Hannah Splash wig. Not a new one, sadly. ...and full length gloves, and high heels. I wonder what “that woman” does? Is she a receptionist?
Because that would be cool...
This is close to the United and Children's Hospitals so maybe she works there. Some sort of morale thing maybe.
“Look Timmy, you may have cancer, but at least you’re not crazy, like that old bat over there...”
7:55 am
Downtown...downtown... sing it Petula! Right turn! Left turn! Traffic light! Green! .... Hey Fucker! I’m driving here! BEEEEEEEP!

Parking ramp! Sunglasses off! Check! Helmet off! Check! Bag! Check! Security badge! Check! Kickstand locked! Check! Fork locked! Check!
8:00 am
Cubeville, at last. Boy, I’m tired.

5 comments:

Pete said...

I always thought that the term Earworm was a reference to The Wrath of Khan. Who knew?

Grouchbutt said...

Whenever I get a song stuck in my head, I just meow Vengaboys' "We Like to Party" (from the Six Flags commercials). Of course, then that's stuck in my head, but it's usually accompanied by a nice little moment of Homer Simpson blissed-out clueless peacefulness.

Anonymous said...

Hey there, Randy! Sure did enjoy having your other half down here over the weekend, but we missed you sorely on the roadtrip. Anyway, just wanted to recommend an alternative cure for earworms (I suffer terribly)--when you are desperate, just "Yellow Submarine" it. That is, think through the first verse and chorus of "Yellow Submarine." It clears the brain palate, and it never seems to get stuck in the place of whatever you're trying to get rid of. I don't know why it works. But try it sometime.

Come with next time!

Randy Wylde said...

Hi anon!

Thanks for sending him back so quick. I'll bear in mind the Yellow Submarine - nobody seems to like my Dylan impersonation.

And definitely, I can't wait to see you again!

Randy Wylde said...

Oh! And thanks for the cookies! Yay!