Los Angeles

My trip to Los Angeles last week was a blast. I met Tom there and we visited Ray, Cory, and Las Vegas. Instead of typing through all the events that happened, I'll just highlight with pictures.

Day 1:
Tom and I arrived within minutes of each other at LAX. Ray picked us up. We stopped briefly at his father's house before heading to Las Vegas. He said that he needed to pick some stuff up, but really I think he wanted to show us his gun collection.

Day 2:
The two nights in Vegas are a blur. I think the individual highlights though are:

1. Donny won $300 on slots.
2. Ray had a duet with Celine.
3. Tom ran the buffet's dessert gamut.
And the Star Wars penny slots.
Day 3:
We drove back to LA and had to leave behind the buffets.
A notable conversation from the carride:

Ray: You have to try soju while you're in Cali.
Donny: I've had soju before.
R: When did you have soju?
D: I had a Korean roommate in college.
R: Who? Michael?
D: No, you.



Day 4:
We spent the day with Cory. We ate at El Taurino for lunch and I learned how little Spanish I actually retained from high school.
We visited the Getty Center and had a "very significant" discussion on "multiples of 30 and parts of 30." We measured the Getty with dollar bills.

Dinner was at a Koream bar-b-que, where we paid to cook our own dinner.
Cory tried to learn how to order so that he could come back later and impress his girlfriend, but he couldn't even figure out how to read the menu. "The menu doesn't even list 'all-you-can-eat' meat bar-b-que. How do you know it's there?" Ray replied, "It's listed on the cover, but only in Korean."The Dodgers game was fun except for the Dodgers (who lost miserably)
and the fan who fell asleep during the game (Note Ray in the back).
Day 5 & 6:
These days were a mess of watching TV and just hanging out. We went to a farmer's market. We ate more Mexican. We went to the beach and saw an old man performing Achey Breaky Heart. I threw up on an airplane.

Great trip...except for the vomit.

Pomes!

On Saturday night we did not hold Pear-a-palooza as we had originally intended. Instead I won tickets to the Mindy Smith concert from a radio station. The concert was good, but I'm not sure if it was just good because the tickets were free. It certainly was no Ditty Bop concert. But really, what is?

Work sucks

And I don't want to do this anymore.

That's all I had written and then decided that maybe I should expand on that idea. I'm still here at 10 pm. I'm nowhere near complete on the multitude of projects I should be finishing. My coworkers don't seem to care because they have too much work too. I suppose feast is better than famine, but I need a break now and then. I suppose next week will be a nice vacation when I go to LA to visit Ray and Cory with Tom.

coffee

I go to coffee shops pretty frequently to study. I don't like coffee. And I don't like tea. However, I do like chai and that's the only thing I order. ever. When I get to the counter to make my order, though, I always take time to look over the menu. I know what I'm going to order before I enter the door, but I like to keep up the appearance that I'm a sophosticated coffee-drinker that needs to determine which direction my tastes will take me that day.

Library update

Quick update from the library: My move is still underway. All of my stuff is in the new place, but I'm still calling about hooking up the phone, electricity, etc. And now I need parking. Who knew that moving 3 blocks would be so time-consuming.

I have taken pictures with my new camera. I'm excited to learn how to upload them here.

Moving

I picked up the keys to my new apartment today. I have made absolutely no plans for my move. I don't have a truck. I have asked none of my friends for help. I may be in trouble.

All this and a Bag of Chips

My bag of potato chips (new open pit bar-b-q flavored) is set to expire in mid-November - on my birthday. Maybe I should serve them at a birthday party. I thought my birthday was a long time away, but the bag of chips puts time into perspective. There are a good number of things that are planned to happen in the next three months. There will be many occasions to serve those chips.

I can serve them at my housewarming party when I move into my new apartment. Or at Jake’s going-away party when he officially moves to Madison for school. Or Christie’s moving party. Or Katie, or Justin, or Mick. Everybody’s moving.

I could bring them with me when Tom and I visit Raymond in LA. We could eat them on our drive to Vegas. Or I could take them with me for my seminar in Chicago, which is conveniently planned for the same weekend that Adina will be in Chicago for work. (If I could make a guilty-looking, drunken emoticon, I would place it right there) As long as potato chips have not been used in a terrorist plot, I could also take them with me on my trip back to PA, which I hope to make in the fall.

I could use them as a study break as I prepare for my early November exam. Or they could also be served at a celebration after the exam. They could be a late night snack as I plan to work a lot of hours in the next few months. (Did you hear about the Pension Protection Act? It’s very exciting. All of the funding rules are changing. Actuaries across the country are giddy with anticipation.) But I should definitely not eat them before running, as I am also preparing for an 8K run that will be in a few weeks.

In the back of my mind, I am also thinking about all of the things that start up again in September. I want to take Stained Glass again this summer and a few gym classes as well. I’ve already ordered season tickets for the Milwaukee Symphony and there are some shows coming to town that I want to see also. Too many things to do. Maybe I should quit my job and make some time?

My parents visited Chicago

On the phone

Me: Hey, Mom. I'm leaving Milwaukee now. I'll be at your hotel in about an hour and a half.
Mom: What? I thought you were only 90 minutes away?
Me: (long pause)
Mom: Oh. Right. They're the same thing.

Exam

I passed the actuarial exam that I took back in May. Last night my company took us out for dinner to celebrate. We went to a Brazilian Steakhouse. It was the first time that I've ever been to one, and it was quite the treat. The idea is that the wait staff carries around meat on sword that has been slow cooking all day. Every person has a coaster next to his/her seat and as long as the coaster is green-side up, the waiters stop by and cut you a piece of meat. And the waiters are just waiters - they're Brazilian cowboys! Well, they're dressed like Gauchos at least. But I'm pretty sure some of them were Mexican, Eastern European, and Asian. They wore Brazilian boots though.

I haven't eaten as much meat as I ate last night since 2003. And I mean all of 2003. I felt sick after only two rounds of meat helpings. I hadn't even eaten any meat since Saturday. My coworkers though are real troopers. They kept eating up until the 5th or 6th round. Of course, it helped that we were all guys. Gluttony seems to increase when eating becomes a competition. And alcohol helps too. The wine-drinking partner came to dinner with us and he always manages to order some pretty pricey wines. I told him that I'd be fine with just a cheap "shir-azz". But he corrected my pronounciation and continued to order me some fancy cabernet.

Today my coworkers talked about last night as if we had been binge-drinking. Statements like "I can't eat like I could when I was in college." or "I don't know how I drove home in that state last night." were common.

Nice melons.

Friday night is Singles Night at my supermarket. How many crude produce jokes can one make? We easily came up with one for most fruits, vegetables, and dairy products. And we didn't even begin to think about the processed meat section. Which aisle is the best for picking up someone? How's this line: "You like cereal? Really? Me, too."

Milk

This weekend I learned that if one drops a gallon of milk on a hard surface, like a supermarket floor, from a distance that's equal to one's hand to the floor, the plastic container rips at the seams and milk splatters all over. True story.

And I went to the Wisco. State Fair and watched birthing pigs. Piglets are not cute at 3 minutes old.

Sunday update

I can't believe how many conversations I've had this week about weddings, showers, and/or babies. I feel left out. Not because I'm desparately seeking a wife or babies, because I'm not. And not because I'm not playing a role in the conversations, because I force my way into most discussions and I am interested in what my friends are doing. I just feel like the oddball. It seems that everyone I talk to is settled into their lives. I should pull an Amy Sedaris and create a fake fiance.

Jake's out of town. This is good, because the weather is hot and humid and I'm spending most of my time at home in my underwear. I've become Raymond.

Running with the Weiners

Christie and I rocked the 5K Sausage Run at Miller Park this morning. Despite the beating sun and the Racing Sausages nipping at our heels, we crossed the finish line under 27 minutes. That's two minutes faster than my time last year. Also, I beat all 4 sausages! Last year, I only beat two of them. The new Chorizo did not make an appearance this morning, but I think he'll be at tonight's game. We may be losing Carlos Lee, but we're getting a new Sausage. The new Chorizo's "skin tone" will be darker and more appropriately represent the spicy sausage's color. He'll be wearing a sombrero.

Oh, Milwaukee. Pomplona's got nothing on you.

Ouch!

The subtitle to this post is “She’s more than just the woman who rips the hair out of my back – she’s also my friend.”

Last week Adina made a comment that I have a big secret and that I would have to post it within a week or she would disclose it to all. I don’t think it’s really a secret though, because anyone that has seen me swimming in the past week, would see clearly that I no longer have hair on my back. I had it waxed.

A few weeks ago I won a gift certificate for a local hair salon. Because Katie had given me a buzz cut a day earlier (with her Barber in a Box) I looked at the other services that the salon offered. I narrowed my options to a pedicure or a waxing. My choice was a pleasant afternoon that would fade quickly or a tortuous afternoon with pleasant effects that would last a few weeks. I went with the torture.

The waxer, Kim, was super friendly. She sensed my anxiety over the phone and reassured me that she was not an ogre that would jump on me like they do on TV. I have never seen this on TV and prior to my conversation with Kim I had not had this fear, but now I did. My original fear was that deep down (read: shallow as a puddle) I would wimp out halfway through the ordeal and leave with a strip of paper stuck to my back. I expected to learn a good deal about myself during this.

However, my experience was very good. Except for the systematic pulling of hair (and what felt like skin), it was very relaxing. The rooms lighting was dim and Kim played soothing New Age music. The wax smelled like honey. And the conversation was great.

Kim and I talked about Milwaukee and work – hers and mine. We talked about our families and our religions. And then we talked about books. Recently it seems as if I have been hitting the chick-lit a little stronger than usual. Also, Oprah has been selecting some of my favorites for her book club, so we had those titles in common too. By the end we were writing down titles and authors for each other. She also told me that if she couldn’t find my suggestion, she would call my house.

I had originally planned to not tell anyone about my adventure in aesthetics, but then realized that because of my swimming tendency, it would be obvious that something had happened. I told my friends, and it’s a good thing that I did because when we went to the French festival, Bastille Days, we had the contest of who sees someone that they know first. I won; I saw Kim.

Home, sweet, home

Within ten minutes of arriving at my parents' house in Moscow, I overheard the following conversation: Dad (on the phone with Mom's brother): Hey, if you don't have plans for Friday, want to go out for lunch with me and Donny? Donny's paying. It's my birthday. (pause) Yeah, see if your father wants to come too. (pause) That sounds great. See you then. This was the first that I had heard of these plans.

Philadelphia

I have been very busy lately and have so much material to post about. I'm currently in Philadelphia for work. I spent the evening with Mr. and Mrs. Anonymous. We ate, we drank, we shopped for condoms, we bowled, I fell, we ping-ponged, we darted, we shard secrets, and we promised not to talk about them.

Tomorrow my mom's coming to pick me up. I hope we find each other in the City of Brotherly Love. It's a little bigger than Moscow. She can't really stop in front of the office building and honk the horn so that I can come out.

Bum-bum

Laura's coming to visit and we've been singing the Bum-bum song in anticipation ever since.

Hair

I'm waiting for pictures from Christie so that you can see the changes in my hair over the past week. I cut my beard, leaving just the mustache. That only lasted a day because I did it more as a joke. It was disgusting.

Then I shaved my whole face. This always makes me look so much younger.

Then I got a crew cut. My hair is only a quarter inch long now. I like the look. Perhaps it'll last longer than just the summer.

Dreams of Grandeur

Today I sort of came to realize that I still have big dreams like I had in high school. You know the type: I'm going to sit on the Supreme Court, or write a great American novel, or lead a grass roots movement, or open a little coffee shop that will slowly take over the world. My dreams are not very specific, which is the main reason that I worry that they won't come to pass. They're vague, like I want to help people feel more connected to their communities, or I want kids to not feel so lost (very Holden Caulfield) or I want to be a "pillar of the community."

But as I was thinking about my dreams, I wondered if I'm setting myself up correctly. I realize that many people who lead what I consider "great lives" just seemed to be lucky. They were in the right place at the right time. Am I in the right place, so that when my time comes, I'll be ready? This isn't supposed to be a diss on Wisconsin. Great people came from here. Look at Aldo Leopold, Oprah, Edward R. Murrow, and Donna Shalala.

My concern is that I wonder what great people were doing when they were my age. I feel that I'm just coasting right now. Sure, I'm learning a great deal about pension plans and actuarial theory, but is that going to set me up for the next stage in my life? I'm saving money to buy a house, but won't that just change my focus from my dreams to a mortgage?

I was going to end this post with a jab at W. by asking what he was doing at my age, but now I'm feeling a little too pensive. The thought of his priviledged life is disheartening.

Craig's List Fun

This is honestly the best response to I've received from my CL post looking for a roommate. Note that it is written in complete sentences and everyword was spelled correctly - even homophones! I did not summarize the response; it has been reprinted in its entirety.


I am very much interested in your apt.
Please call me or e-mail ASAP.
Sal
Office: 414-867-5309
Cell: