A gigantic nuclear furnace
After realizing I had over sixty hours of unused paid sick time left to me, I figured I'd probably earned the right to be sick today. And besides, I'm supposed to be having a massive garage sale this weekend. Today I will clean. Today I will prepare. I will put on my apron and my very best fifties housewife smile and go to town on that rat's nest I call home.
So naturally I'm sitting in the Tea Garden looking at the Wikipedia entry on Highlander, wishing somebody would log on to AIM already. My buddy list is a wasteland. You'd think it was three o'clock on a Wednesday or something.
Moved from the wikipedia entry on Highlander to the wikipedia entry on swords.
There are a lot of swords.
It's hard to believe that Monday will be my last day EVER at Savers. I am delighted. I will probably miss the discount, though.
According to what I'm finding on wikipedia, the two swords I picked up at a garage sale back in high school are from Thailand and are either called daab or krabi. I'm not clear on that point. Either way they're my favorite ever. They're slightly curved, single edged, double handed, with minimal handguards and a balance that suits me. If I was going to be a person who uses swords like it's a normal thing to do, I would be all over that style. For my purposes, they look good on a wall and are fun to swing around like I mean it whenever an episode of Highlander is over and Freddie Mercury starts wailing out the theme song. Speaking of swords, Wayne got fired! I won't have to worry about slaying him on my front porch.
And speaking of Wayne, Ben and I ran into Marcus on the bus on Sunday, which could have been a disaster. He was sitting in the front so we ran to the back, where fortunately he did not follow. I probably would have had to knock Ben out and leave him behind as bait as I ran away out the back door of the bus, and that wouldn't have done much to improve our friendship. And I like being friends with Ben. For example, he's the only friend I've ever made whom I can smack in the face as the punchline to a knock knock joke and get away with it. There was some running away involved, but no repercussions so far. I may be in the clear.
Ben and I were on the bus because we decided we needed to go to Ax Man, in St. Paul, to buy ridiculous things. I'd never been to Ax Man before. It was like a shopping epiphany. It's just a big dirty dimly lit store full of shelves and baskets and buckets and bins of the most random surplus and liquidation things you could want to find, all labeled with goofy names and pop culture references. As I told Mara later, if I awoke one morning to find I had undergone a Kafka-esque transformation into a store, I would wake up to be Ax Man.
We had a heck of a time getting there, though, because after I spent an hour getting to his house and then a half hour walking back to the 21, and we got on and evaded Marcus and were settling in for the ride, Ben casually mentioned he wasn't actually sure where this place was.
Awesome. Because St. Paul is where you want to be not completely sure where you're going.
We lucked out and found it anyway, and as we were leaving Ben said he wanted to check out Ragstock, which sounded fine. And he said he knew where that one was. I don't know why I believed him, because that's what he said about Ax Man originally, but there we went anyway. We never found Ragstock. But we did spot a Herberger's across the highway. We both needed to use a bathroom, and besides, who ever heard of a Herberger's that wasn't part of a mall?
Herberger's wasn't part of a mall. Herberger's was part of a huddle of buildings that wanted to be a mall but weren't ready to reach out and commit. At this point I'm not sure if St. Paul even has malls, just stores with social dysfunctions.
So we left Herberger's, got on the 21, rode back to my neighborhood, picked up a DVD from my apartment, got bubbletea, wandered Lyndale a little and were about to head back to his house when he started whining about how his butt hurt. There was never any particular explanation offered for why, it apparently just did. So we sat down next to Lake street, called his mom, and she picked us up and drove us back to their house. Where we watched the movie until it was too dark for me to want to walk a long dark half hour to the closest bus, so I crashed there and intended to leave in good time in the morning, if only my alarm on my phone hadn't somehow been set to silent. Which is the stupidest thing an alarm can be capable of. So instead of waking up at 7 and making it home in time for a nice leisurely time of getting ready for work at 11, I woke up at...9. I raaaaaaan to the bus, raaaaan off the bus, raaaaaan to my apartment, took a five minute shower, and raaaan back to the bus just as it was pulling to the stop. And got to work on time.
I am a superhero.
I've killed enough time. It is time to work.
Ha ha. Yeah.
So naturally I'm sitting in the Tea Garden looking at the Wikipedia entry on Highlander, wishing somebody would log on to AIM already. My buddy list is a wasteland. You'd think it was three o'clock on a Wednesday or something.
Moved from the wikipedia entry on Highlander to the wikipedia entry on swords.
There are a lot of swords.
It's hard to believe that Monday will be my last day EVER at Savers. I am delighted. I will probably miss the discount, though.
According to what I'm finding on wikipedia, the two swords I picked up at a garage sale back in high school are from Thailand and are either called daab or krabi. I'm not clear on that point. Either way they're my favorite ever. They're slightly curved, single edged, double handed, with minimal handguards and a balance that suits me. If I was going to be a person who uses swords like it's a normal thing to do, I would be all over that style. For my purposes, they look good on a wall and are fun to swing around like I mean it whenever an episode of Highlander is over and Freddie Mercury starts wailing out the theme song. Speaking of swords, Wayne got fired! I won't have to worry about slaying him on my front porch.
And speaking of Wayne, Ben and I ran into Marcus on the bus on Sunday, which could have been a disaster. He was sitting in the front so we ran to the back, where fortunately he did not follow. I probably would have had to knock Ben out and leave him behind as bait as I ran away out the back door of the bus, and that wouldn't have done much to improve our friendship. And I like being friends with Ben. For example, he's the only friend I've ever made whom I can smack in the face as the punchline to a knock knock joke and get away with it. There was some running away involved, but no repercussions so far. I may be in the clear.
Ben and I were on the bus because we decided we needed to go to Ax Man, in St. Paul, to buy ridiculous things. I'd never been to Ax Man before. It was like a shopping epiphany. It's just a big dirty dimly lit store full of shelves and baskets and buckets and bins of the most random surplus and liquidation things you could want to find, all labeled with goofy names and pop culture references. As I told Mara later, if I awoke one morning to find I had undergone a Kafka-esque transformation into a store, I would wake up to be Ax Man.
We had a heck of a time getting there, though, because after I spent an hour getting to his house and then a half hour walking back to the 21, and we got on and evaded Marcus and were settling in for the ride, Ben casually mentioned he wasn't actually sure where this place was.
Awesome. Because St. Paul is where you want to be not completely sure where you're going.
We lucked out and found it anyway, and as we were leaving Ben said he wanted to check out Ragstock, which sounded fine. And he said he knew where that one was. I don't know why I believed him, because that's what he said about Ax Man originally, but there we went anyway. We never found Ragstock. But we did spot a Herberger's across the highway. We both needed to use a bathroom, and besides, who ever heard of a Herberger's that wasn't part of a mall?
Herberger's wasn't part of a mall. Herberger's was part of a huddle of buildings that wanted to be a mall but weren't ready to reach out and commit. At this point I'm not sure if St. Paul even has malls, just stores with social dysfunctions.
So we left Herberger's, got on the 21, rode back to my neighborhood, picked up a DVD from my apartment, got bubbletea, wandered Lyndale a little and were about to head back to his house when he started whining about how his butt hurt. There was never any particular explanation offered for why, it apparently just did. So we sat down next to Lake street, called his mom, and she picked us up and drove us back to their house. Where we watched the movie until it was too dark for me to want to walk a long dark half hour to the closest bus, so I crashed there and intended to leave in good time in the morning, if only my alarm on my phone hadn't somehow been set to silent. Which is the stupidest thing an alarm can be capable of. So instead of waking up at 7 and making it home in time for a nice leisurely time of getting ready for work at 11, I woke up at...9. I raaaaaaan to the bus, raaaaan off the bus, raaaaaan to my apartment, took a five minute shower, and raaaan back to the bus just as it was pulling to the stop. And got to work on time.
I am a superhero.
I've killed enough time. It is time to work.
Ha ha. Yeah.
posted by Betsi at 1:32 PM
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