I am a Captain of Industry.

That's right folks.

Check it: My first Ebay auction.

That's been my evening, figuring out how to list an item on Ebay.

Should Golden Palace take notice and leave me a mint, I'll remember you, my gentle readers.

I'm also watching Wife Swap, giggling at the thought of a spoilt wife handling a contraption used to inseminate cows.

It's a good night, and, I'm very tired, so I'll wish you all a good night, as well.

It's Okay: I Won't Stain Yer Blood.

I woke up feeling hit by a train. I went to bed far too late for my own good last night. But- I took care of the phone issue, and I also got in some reading. I had vague hopes that, aided by daylight savings, I'd go to 6:30 AM mass this morning and have the entirety of my day ahead of me. Alas, that would have meant about 3 hours of sleep, and I'm not that tough.

I've been up for a while now, but I still don't see myself getting to church before 12:30. So, it goes.

I've been drinking tea trying to wake up, but it's not taking. I think I'll hit the BP and grab a cup of coffee, come home, regroup, and try to bring myself to apply blade to face, the ceremonial starting of any day (save Saturday. Saturday is the day for being scruffy).

Until next time...

Phoned Up.

I switched my mobile service over to AMF's T-Mobile account today, and got a new camera phone out of the deal. This is good, as my old phone had exploded, losing it's display and staying together only by way of a rubber band.

What's not so good is that it appears that, in adding this line, AMF's line has somehow been cut off.

Surely, that's the only reason she hasn't called me yet tonight.

I've tried calling her from both my cellphone and landline, and all I get is the central T-Mobile voicemail system. When I enter her number, they tell me it's invalid. AMF- an invalid! Impossible, I think, so I call customer service at 12:30 AM, and sit on hold for a spell. I guess that calling customer service is a big thing for folks on a Saturday night. Once I got through to a human, I'm told that they can't help for another 45 minutes, as their systems are refreshing. Since I'm a kick ass fiance, I'm staying up. Can't have AMF without a phone.

I was very pleased with the service I received today at the T-Mobile store when I picked up my phone and had my number ported over. I'm not as thrilled with the current goings-on.

So, it goes.

Scrabble Down the Hallway Yelling "Yahtzee."

Listening to the Weakerthans "Reconstruction Site" and getting ready to head home.

There are few things less tolerable than an office cube, particularly after being away for the better part of a week. So, it goes. The bill collectors want my money, so I'll keep on keeping on.

Anything for them.

Got back safely and more or less soundly from NY yesterday afternoon. I left in grey and gloom and arrived to the same, with the added benefit of rain. NY's rain from the days prior. Go to Florida, the knobs cleverly ask you to bring back some good weather. Me, I go to New York and bring back the crap.

And now- I'm going home. Rock on, mothers and fathers.

M.E. in N.Y.C.

So, I'm in Brooklyn, and have been since Wednesday afternoon. I shot out this way to surprise my friend Ryan for his birthday, a plan that's been brewing for a couple of months now. It was certainly a surprise, and we've been having a good time thus far.

We walked across the Brooklyn Bridge on Wednesday, as evidenced above. Quite a nice walk, and certainly a change in environment for me.

Yesterday, we hit the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens and fed the enormous carp in the Japanese garden. Or raisen bread and English muffins made the waters boil. Ducks fought fish for our crumbs, while the ever-pathetic turtles were spun in circles.

Poor little guys.

Right now, Ryan's off tutoring in Queens, and Alexandra's at the gym. I spent an hour just walking around, and called it quits once I realized I'd hit the projects. At that point, it was time to scan the skyline for St. Agnes' and get my walk home in order.

So now- I chill.

I Hear 'em Whisperin' When I Walk By.

The day at work went by quickly. This is a blessing. I trudged along, producing and doing, and activity made everything move.

So it goes.

This promises to be a long week, and a long week after that and after that and after that.

And- ultimately, it will mean as little as little can mean.

And so, I lift a glass to being a hamster in a wheel.

But! Unlike the rodents, we do what we do to an end, or at least a sense of an end. We do it out of love. Not for the job, but for the people for whom we care. We do it for that house, or car, or, perhaps most importantly, that sense of security.

You can scream "sell out," and I'll just say that we do what we do for the time proscribed. We do it to ensure that the rest of life is spent not scratching, wondering, and worrying.

That said- there's a time to know when it's time to go, and it's a precarious balance between need and want.

God grant me the ability to know that time, and to act accordingly.

God grant me the sense to not get caught in the trap, and to know when it's necessity, and when it's rote activity.

I think I know the answers- grant me the sense to know when it's time to move.

Ah- I think he already has. And, it's time to move.... For the second act, give me the follow through.

She's Pulling Out the Pin.

I spent last night playing around with iTunes 6, finally downloading it, and then throwing a bunch more discs on. Rote work. I also downloaded some songs from the iTunes music store, including Elvis Costello's "She's Pulling Out the Pin," a track which was left off the US release of The Delivery Man.

I like it.

I also downloaded Bruce Springsteen's "I'm Goin' Down," after AMF called to tell me about "Born in the USA" being played as a fist-pumping encore at a country concert she went to last night. I need to get the whole album, but for now, "I'm Goin' Down" will suffice.

Today was a typical Sunday: Church, a haircut, stopping by the folks for lunch and dinner to spend time with my grandparents, laundry, a nap, and now getting ready for bed.

I hope everyone out there had a nice weekend. I got to see a lot of family, so I'll say mine was quite nice, indeed.

Stuck in my Craw.

I can't stop thinking about that stupid article about Oprah.

Dammit, man- did they teach you nothing in J School? What is the story? Did she "meet her idol," or did two acquaintances have lunch? Either way, it's a crap story, but your article makes no sense. I missed the episode, dammit. I work for a living. I didn't even TiVo it. Now, I'm going to have to go to sleep not knowing if Oprah's a fruitcake for dedicating an episode to a model meeting her model idol (new band name: check) or for dedicating an episode to two models having lunch and discussing the trials and travails of being models.

It's hard for me to sleep not knowing exactly why I hate you, Oprah.

Smells Like Suck.

Oftentimes, I find myself mouthing little "thank you"s to Oprah for keeping the world spinning.

Had Naomi Campbell been unable to sit and chat with her idol Iman, well, crap- I don't want to even imagine. More importantly, had the viewing public been unable to watch this bonding of mind and spirit, we would have been left just a little bit incomplete.

Thank you Oprah. Thank you for reminding us of what's important.

I have to admit that this article leaves me a bit confused, however. The title leads one to believe that they'd never met, yet Naomi's gushing makes me wonder:

"As a friend, you've been there for me when I've been down... I've always trusted you... You're my goddess, you are, it's like the elegance of you, your heart.
"I know you're shy... and you're feminine and you're a mother, you're a wife, you take your priorities right. I wanna learn from you."

No matter. Thanks, Oprah!!!

Thanks for letting two pretty people get together and talk about the challenges of being pretty.

I'm Just a Clown Walking Down the Street.

And, I think Lou Reed is a creep.

But, no one cares what I think, truth be told.

I showed up at work at 5:00 this morning, and I'm tired as a result. Call me a sally, I'll call you a well-rested son of a gun. Me, I need to sleep.

For the boys and girls out there who care about such stuff, AMF and I have finalized a location for our wedding reception. It cost a bit more, but, we've decided that peacocks and swans were the way to go. You only get married once (if you do it right!!!!!), and we decided to do it right.

Next stop: Flora. We've got the fauna hooked up like nobody's business.

I love you, peacocks.

Down in the Alley is Where I Hunt.

Today's newsflash is that All's Quiet on the Eastern Front is my current favorite Ramones song.

Clearly, it's been a slow day, which is just fine with me.

I got home from work last night feeling terrible. I threw myself upon the mercy of the couch and grabbed the remote. Finding it out of batteries (damn you, smoke detector), I grabbed a Calvin and Hobbes collection from the coffee table. I was asleep in minutes. Lulled, perhaps. I slept for 45 minutes, then hobbled around in a daze for another 15, finally getting into the car and driving into town for a walk. Ironic, eh? More ironic was the fact that I had to park on the top floor of a five story parking garage, meaning it probably would have been quicker to just walk into town. So, it goes.

Back at home, I played old videogames all the while fearing that the flu was coming on.

But, it didn't, and I felt pretty okay, albeit still foggy, this morning.

AMF bought her wedding dress yesterday, and tomorrow marks the one-countdown for the wedding. We're getting there, kids.

In other news, I seem to have a bit of cartilage or something out of whack on the right side of my nose, creating a bit of a bump. I can't stop moving it around and obsessing upon it. How could this happen? Am I dying? Did I suffer painless trauma?

Stupid noses.

I Don't Hate You Kid; That's Not It.

Back from work, back from Target. There's Cat Chow, a birthday card for Dad, and a six pack of Bud Light.

The tattooed gentleman at the store didn't card me, which was convenient, but fills me with a small bit of "I'm not old; I'm cool like YOU!," as I walk out in my khakis, button down short sleave shirt, and loafers.

Cat food, beer, and a birthday card. He must think I'm a total loser.

I should go back and talk to him. Dammit.

Meh. Another 100 Words to dull the pain.

To Him, Life is a Great Big Bang Up.

Another Saturday morning, another lackluster 100 Words. Inspiration was hard to come by this morning.

After I finish my second cup of Trader Joe's Irish Breakfast tea, I'll jump in the shower and then head out to take a look at a banquet hall AMF found. I'll bring the camera and be all photojournalistic and stuff later on today.

I also have some items I want to try to unload on eBay, including a box of ex-girlfriend stuff I found lying around, so I might try to set up my first auctions. Or, I might just go see "Serenity" by myself. My day, my choice.

More to come, kids.