Jobs are all the same...every job has some level of annoyance, or BS if you prefer. BS can be work load, the people around you, or a combination of both. The ideal job is one that balances BS with $$. You can't have a BS free job and make a ton of money, that's just not realistic. But you can have a job that is filled with BS that pays you squat. You will not like this job. It will annoy you and eat at you until you decide to change. Typically, this will result in a job that has even more BS but pays more $$. This will satisfy you for a little while because you feel better about making more money. Then this too will eat at you. When you find a job that you can tolerate the BS and are happy with the $$, you should yell no wammies and STOP!

Everyone knows where they were when they got that call. If you don't know what I'm talking about, consider yourself lucky, and glad you're not in the club. I can remember every call, exactly where I was. I was at a hockey game at UNH -- the Whit, sitting on the end behind the goalie, 3 up from the glass (still isn't as cool as hockey in the barn). I had just walked in the door from a student senate meeting. I had just gotten off-air from Wildchats. I was at work, I had just come back from lunch -- take out from the Blue Moon. Greasy nasty Chinese food in Rochester, NH. I never ate it. I was in bed recovering from a night of drinking with an old friend who had just broken her arm and busted herself up good snowboarding -- i could still taste the rum. I was practicing guitar -- and not doing a very good job at it. I was sitting in my recliner watching the Pats game with my cousin. I was standing in the dining room looking back at my fiance. I was sitting in the dining room having just finished dinner with the family. I was sitting at my desk getting urgent messages from friends. I know every detail. I know every feeling. Every breath. Every flush. The numbness, the "otherworldliness", the detachment, the lump, the punch, the blow, the ache, and the crash to reality. It's funny how it hits you. Sometimes, you don't realize it. Other times, you wish you couldn't realize it. And it's funny how something will make you think of that call, of what that call meant. It could be an email, a smell, a song, a movie, a noise, a memory, something out of the corner of your eye. It could be nothing at all....and boom, there it is. And every time, no matter how hard you try, that call will pop into your mind. You can't escape it, no matter how hard you try. And sometimes that call is like a domino...from one call to another they just fall, fall, fall. I hear the pop scratch of a needle on vinyl, and i hear the call. I hear a puck clang off the goal post, i hear the call. I see a yellow post it note, i hear the call. I always try to think beyond the call, but sometimes, I can't. It's those times I hate the most...that's not the memory I want standing out. I know it's there. It's always there. It's always gonna BE there. It's like this HUGE post in the center of a room, running floor to ceiling, and it's a small room and the walls are covered with pictures and movie screens and no matter where you stand, your back is always to the wall closest to you, and you always want to see what's on the other side of the room, but every time you step forward the post gets bigger and bigger till it starts to block out the images, and as soon as you turn you find yourself on the other side of the room looking back at where you just were, forced to see that stupid post again...you can never get close enough to touch, and you can never ever see past that post.....

By now, you know the club...and the calls....and you know the connection that only those that have had the call can share.

My Grandmother. Lorraine's Mom. Lou's Dad. My Grandfather. My Grandmother. Jac's Dad. My Dad. Papa Paoli. Nana. Dave.....

I hate those calls....

So...I'm bored...well, not bored...but for the first time in about 2 years, I don't feel like I have some pending thing that I must deal with immediately. It's nice. I cleaned a little. Organized some things. I put away some wedding stuff, put away some hawaii stuff, even put away some lawyer stuff. Saturday I sat down and watched the video of Dad and I jamming. It was great. I miss him. It's weird to hear his voice. And to see him drum. I was so excited and so nervous that I was sloppy--and unfortunately, we didn't get to record us when we got in the groove because there was no way for me to hit record without dropping off playing--and when you find that groove you can't just stop. Luckily, my brother came home towards the end of it and was able to catch a minute of us playing House of The Rising Sun....it was amazing...funny, all my pictures, and it's those 3 and a half minutes of us playing that I think i cherish the most! I was able to transcribe some of what we jammed to. I also decided it was time to start learning sign language. I know the basics, having grown up with parents that taught and with a father who was legally deaf (which is amazing when you watch the videos of him drumming!!!). Anywho...so...in the three days where I haven't had any urgent thing to do, i was able to get my room in order, walk down memory lane, transcribe a jam, write a song (finally), start learning sign again...oh, and also started to teach myself piano. Did I mention that I'm also in the final stages of my guitar project (it'll be completed by the coming weekend)? Man, I love it when I have nothing to do.

Today's advertising campaign...

Disappointed by your box of chocolates? Try UNPROTECTED SEX.....you never really know what you're gonna get!

She says, "Tell me a happy story."

So I do.

And then she cries.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=QpdFkR73jkw

"two years ago, unemployed and bored, she tried crystal meth"....hmmm, usually when I'm unemployed and bored, I like, read books, watch tv, maybe surf the web....heck, I might even go for a walk...blog...i dunno..i mean..hmm, crystal meth...well...

It's official...the DUMBEST person alive has been found and she works at panera!!!
Here's the tale in all its glory:

I walk in....."Hi, I'd like an asiago cheese bagel, toasted, with butter, and a cafe latte, please, and I have a coupon"
She grabs a french toast bagel, slices it, puts in in a bag, and gives it to me.
I say, "I'm sorry, I would like an ASIAGO cheese bagel, toasted with butter."
She says, Oh, i'm sorry, throws the other bagel away, grabs an asiago cheese bagel and puts it in a bag and hands it to me...
i say again...toasted with butter
she looks confused...then goes, oh and puts in on the toaster--not sliced....then burns herself reaching for it. Who knew not sliced wouldn't fit through the awesome super-duper toasting wheel? So, she takes it out to slice it, puts it back on the wheel of torture
she has my free coffee coupon in hand, rings up my total for 5.29....apparently i'm supposed to pay for the coffee and both bagels< muahahahah
i look at her confused
she then looks at the coupon and says, oh, 93 cents
I say thank you.
she takes the bagel, puts in in a bag, hands it to me...
i ask for butter
she said, yes, it has butter
I look in the bag
there's no butter
I ask for butter
she's like, "fine" gives me butter and says NEXT...
i look at her....
she's still lost
I ask for my latte
"OH, SORRY"....
she makes it
iced
i asked for hot
she looks confused
then the other girl comes over and says, "can I help you"....
Thank goodness. Saved......This is the only person in the whole place with a brain I fear.
Lord, don't let Panera be the only place that survives when our world comes to an end....
Someone asked, "is english not her first language?"

Folks, she's definitely born and raised and fed by a tube here in the great state of mass. No offense to people that must be fed by a tube for medical reasons....this poor soul just can't find her mouth...and I'm quite positive her mom has stitched her head to her shoulders for fear of her losing it....

latest update......i punched 400 holes into what can only be described as cardboard covered steel disguised as paper...seriously, you all better like those save the dates..

The story of my fat lip....this is short...but sweet...and kinda funny....so, last night....we went out on Mission 434. That's the 434th wedding-related trip of the year.....we went to look at shoes, tuxes, i stopped to pick up the Brothers of a Feather CD...Adrienne went into the Christmas Tree Shop...I walked out with the cd, she walked out with 20 hurricane vases for center pieces....you all had BEST like those centerpieces...and I expect to hear about them at the wedding. Anyways...we loaded my car with 20 ginormous and fragile glass domes and headed for hooo......wait a minute, we had to stop and pick up ribbon from Joanne Fabrics....then we were headed for home...now the fun part...

So, you know how in cartoons and the Goonies if you step on a rake it flies up and hits the person in the face? That's funny right. Well, in the cartoons the rakes are always in the grass and the pointy parts are facing up so the foot catches it and it flips up and boom...ha ha funny....well....in a darkened room, while a flustered overtired person is searching for keys, and the other person is looking for the light switch, and the rake is resting against the wall, pointy side down so that no "accidents can occur", it is quite possible for one to step just right on the rake and have it fly up and hit a person in the face.....now, a fat lip is cool when you can make up a fun story about that bar fight or whatnot, but when you split your lip and your spittin blood and checking your teeth, well, that just sucks...and at 31 a bar fight ain't cool....so...that's my story...alas, it doesn't end there....see...so...there I am, in the livingroom, fat lip, bloodied and battered, punching holes in the very cool and soon to be delivered save the dates.....when.......bing bong...doorbell...bingbong...at 10 at night...WTF..."honey, it's the police"....You don't ever like the police showing up at your door at night for no reason...So.....i open the door...."Hi, we received 2 911 calls from here. Is everything all right?" "911...uh...what...." "Oh, that was me...I'm sorry....I accident hit the emergency button on the phone, calling 911...but I hung before it could call....." Seems the love of my life was calling her folks and hit the emergency button, hung up and hit the "1" to call her folks....and ignored the beep beep beep of call waiting......so, there I am, bloody and swollen with a cop eying us suspiciously, two 911 calls placed....me hurtin.....to be honest, I think he was eying Adrienne suspiciously.....

Pretty sure we're on the watch list now.

Some of you have asked for an update....i dunno if you're afraid you wont' get invited, or afraid that you will...so, here it is....the wedding planning is coming along nicely....in fact, we're doing save the dates this weekend...which means thursday I'll be scrambling for mailing addresses...fun times....then it'll be time to send it out....but it's not a cool magnet..and there's no cool pictures....just a piece of paper. I had to pay for that. Lots of money for that. Spent hours hearing about it. And I'll be paying to mail it....So, for those of you that get one, you best not throw that out....in fact, frame it...

For those people that jump into relationships too quickly....it's like picking up a book before you're finished with the last one...you're just not quite ready to start a new story...you put it down...and sometimes you forget where you put it.

favorite thing I read today....yankees are 14 1/2 games back of the sox....of course, that'll make it hurt all the more when boston slumps....and we all know they will...start strong, finish weak, start weak, finish strong......ugh

I'd like to correct everyone in the proper spelling of a "Honey Do" list...it's honedo....under no circumstances should there be a "y" in there.....trust me...just better that way.

Okay...My cousin says I am full of myself...Dan says I am full of "poo"...this creates quite a paradox....if I am full of poo, and full of myself...does that mean I am poo??? oh....the slippery slope that I am on is a dangerous one..

So...My friend Karen needed a "special" cake for a friend's party.....this folks, is the quote of the month...

hi - i'd like the cake with chocolate icecream, vanilla cake - oh and can you go ahead and draw a big ol' penis on it? THANKS -

AN IMPORTANT PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT!!!!

This was sent to me by TRUE RED-BLOODED PATRIOTIC AMERICAN who understands FAMILY VALUES and is a neo-trad-democraniblican.....

Hey, I don’t really care who you’re voting for, but I want to start a web-phenomema to nominate “Baby Got Back” for Hilary Clinton’s “Campaign Song”…
So, when you have the chance, if you could all take a moment and add “Baby Got Back” as a write-in for her stupid “Choose Our Campaign Song” voting page.
I mean…how awesome would it be to see her enter the DNC stage to that song?

http://www.hillaryclinton.com/action/spotlight/?sc=1184

Oh, and tell your friends.

Thanks,

Francis

my saturday....

It's gonna be a tough choice. Gardening when i'd get the "CAN YOU HELP US" scream from the kitchen, go to the gym, or put my head in the gas grill while it's heating so I can go to the hospital for burns...

Oddly enough, burns don't hurt so bad

I hate panera bread......well, I like their coffee...but their deserts and "treats" just suck!!! They're always dry. I buy like one every few months, something good and sweet....they always look moist and delicious. I fork over my hard earned money for the yummy goodness...and I'm rewarded with baked cardboard. Freakin' awful......and the worst part is...they're like a bad relationship with a crazy fun person that does those weird acrobatic stunts that gets your heart racing....you know, the one where you never delete the phone number, and one stupid drunken night you send a text...and the next thing you know you're right back in the thick of it saying, "what the hell did i do??"

So, with everything that's going on right now....all I can say is we're not gonna know what to do with ourselves when we stop house hunting, stop wedding stuff....no wonder people have children

mortgage

from the latin words mort, meaning death, and gage, meaning gagging......