Seven Days

So before I leave for Boston, I have seven days remaining in North Jersey. Believe it or not I am going to miss it. North jersey is famous for so much. When I'm in North Jersey I feel more Italian than a meat packer from Bolognia named Vito. When I'm in Norht Jersey, I feel like it's ok to drive aggresively. When I'm in North Jersey, i can go around doing impressions or referencing the Sopranos. When I'm in North jersey, I feel good stressing my R's and my D's. When I'm in Totowa, I feel good being a conservative Republican. In Totowa, I'm someone, someone who's involved in the community, the local government, and most importantly, my family. Most of all when I'm in Jersey I know that anytime I want I can stop and get a Bagel. Anytime I want, I can get on Route 46 and sit in traffic. Anytime I want, I can drive to the industrial section behind Riverview Drive and check the status of Global Pollution. It's a beautiful thing really.

The first day:

10:32 Awoke with hangover.
11:22 Mother offered breakfast and I accepted offer but offer has been defaulted due to lack of interest in the original offer.
11:23 Hunger forced me to yell at mother to make food.

Chew the ear off a brass monkey

This place is insane. And the only way an entire establishment can be insane is if the director is insane.

"Joan? Insane?" I asked myself. Then a short chuckle. If soemone asked me if my boss, Joan, was insane, yes would not do the job.

My favorite example of depicting Joan's mental state is the "Rush to the Bathroom" story.

I was working one Friday afternoon, like this one, sitting in the office working on a computer. The sun was shining, air conditioners running, the o-zone depleting and young children riding bikes getting burnt in the 95 degree scorcher.

And just like that, WHOOSH, BOOM!

"Uhhh God Fricker Fracker, Jesus..." she grumbled as she weebled and wobbled.

The long hallway which connects the main adult room to the muave colored back door, was now the passage of a storm.

Joan had entered the library, and she was packin' heat. (not weapons, the heat from squirting out a few wet farts when you can't hold in your shit anymore)

As disgusting as this may appear, picture my viewpoint: 10 feet in range of her. That's firing distance! I peeked my head out of the office to see what was going on. Joan was calling out names faster than an auctioneer.

"Tommy get Kathy, Kathy! Doreen! Kathy get Doreen! Tommy get Kathy!"

She then pummeled herself into the "Girls Room" door.

Flashback: June 20, 2005

Tom: And then she pummeled right into the building!

Walt: Tom, I don't think it's safe to use Joan's name and pummel in the same sentence.

Tom: Why not? I can use them if I want!

Walt: You can, but the person your telling thast too can have a stroke.

Like I said, she barrelled into the "Girls Room" door. Doreen followed.

I felt left out. A staff meeting, and I can't be there becuase the laws of gender discrimination don't allow it! Well, I had to wait it out. And so I did. It was a whole 30 seconds before the muttering of the boss's voice could be heard from the bathroom.

I walked out of the office to the hallway again, this time, an encounter with Doreen.

"What's going on?" I had to be blatant becuase the aura in the conversation read: CRISIS

"Nothin, I just gotta get a..." and she walked away. Now I was completely baffled. What is going on in that bathroom! Doreen came back holding a box of black trash bags. A few ideas came to mind about what was going on in that bathroom now.

I narrowed it down to three.

A) Joan was doing some extreme remodeling

B) Joan was so sick the toilet bowl couldn't do the job, she needed trash bags

C) Doreen was attempting to do away with Joan.

The madness continued. Doreen wlaked out again, this tim, her head bowed in disgust. the bag was full. Joan's old half cotton half nylon floral outift was in the bag! Which left me onyl to wonder..."what was Joan wearing?"

Then I made what was either the smartest desicion fo my life, or the dumbest. I went back into the office for less than 60 seconds. When i came back out, Doreen was standing around working, as if nothign had happened.

I said, "Is Joan ok?""She went home she wasn't feelign too good," Doreen replied.

What happened to Joan! Where did she go? Either she walked out of the library in less than 60 seconds, which I know is impossible, or she squeezzed herself out of the tiny window which drops 30 feet down to the parking lot...and then 100 feet around the building...without her cane...naked.

Now to this day I have know idea how Boss actually escaped the building. That is why I wished I never stepped back into that office. I will never know the truth. However, stepping back into the office prevented me from probably seeing the most repulsive chunk of lard, shake and bake it's way down the library hallway, the best desicion I've ever made.

About Me Continued

small things like what we were eating and where we were going. I got the nickname "Hollywood" for always making a big dramatic show about everything. I guess all kids are like that though...but I'm not a kid anymore. And...I'm still dissatisfied with the world. If there's a complaint to be had, I have it. All the bitter, all the better. Sarcasm is a must.
The real oxymoron is that I'm a happy guy. I've got everything I want. I'm a student at my dream school (Emerson College) and I have a Macbook Pro. (what more does a guy need?)
I love comedy. I take pride in humor and I want converse without it. That's why I hate funerals. I would never want to be the one who gets kicked out for cracking "what's the deal with lampshades" jokes in front of the mourning family.
If you take a walk down the street with me or go out to lunch, you will not find one second of dead space, because my energy to discuss, debate, and criticize, never ceases. And that's where this blog comes in. I couldn't help but take some of the 1000's of funny yet brutally critical stories and spread them.
Sometimes people tell me, "how can you be so hypocritical?" because they obviously see that I'm not a perfect person, sporting my less than average 190 lb. body, and I always respond, "Why should we all go through life pretending we don't see the obvious when we can see it, and luagh at it, and move on."