Tag: 2000

January 1

Being alive today makes you feel like some sort of plane crash survivor. Nothing happened with that Y2K nonsense, of course, but it seems like everybody’s walking around all day with this giddy smile on their faces anyway, as if to say, “gee, we made it!”

After getting home from work, I talk to Alan, agree to meet him and his new roommate up at Arlington Cafe. Before arriving there, I pop into the nearby Subway on Henderson for a pizza sub and pop. They’ve got a football game playing on the TV here, but I’m reading the daily paper instead. Then drive basically across the street to the bar, arriving at about 9, where Alan and Jeff already have a table right inside the door.

This is my first time meeting Jeff, who is extremely preppy and borderline feminine, with a pierced tongue. He’s some kind of friend of a friend that Alan doesn’t really know all that well, either, but the guy does have a nice house and it’s a decent spot for Alan to land since things went somewhat south between him and Angela. According to him, which he explains to me while Jeff is away, this guy’s entire angle with the chicks is to come off as really clean cut and possibly even kind of prissy in order to attract them. We have seen this gimmick work before, like for example one kid we went to school with who in later years would be surrounded by women every time you bumped into him at some club.

But it’s debatable how well this is working with Jeff, who keeps going on and on about our poor frazzled waitress, running around in circles amid this capacity crowd, seemingly having this entire floor to herself. He’s got his eye on this girl, yet remains too shy to really talk to her much. Maybe this “shy” business is part of the angle, but I doubt it. Then again Alan and I don’t even attempt anything ourselves, either, we barely get up from this table. Even when Alan declares at one point early on, “I can’t wait to get a little bit fucked up so I can talk to some of these girls.”

Meanwhile, Alan and I inevitably discuss that party at his cousin’s apartment, which ended in the wee hours this morning. I’m asking him if he wound up doing anything with that Casey chick, and while he says he was just about drunk enough to feel like banging her there at the very end (she is rather large), things took a turn for the worse. As in she stepped into the bathroom and he could hear her taking a dump in there, at which point he suddenly lost all interest. I remark that this definitely isn’t the greatest mental image and is not really something I like to think about, either. To which he agrees and jokes, “the girls I date shit cotton balls.”

It’s hard to tell too much about somebody from just one drinking excursion, but this Jeff guy seems alright. Feminine acting or not, he’s hanging with us in the beer consumption, for which we’ve taken the pitcher route tonight. These two are insisting we have knocked back seven, though by my count it’s only six – but either way, that’s a pretty solid clip, two or more pitchers apiece in the space of three hours. Jeff does make one interesting observation when we somehow get on this morbid discussion about dying, making our mark before then, et cetera, when he says, “people just want to be remembered.” Then somehow we’re talking about tattoos and Alan asks me if I ever thought about getting one.

“If I ever get a tattoo,” I tell him, running away with this improvised image that just popped into my head, “it’ll be of Curious George, passed out with Xs for his eyes, hat sideways, with a bottle of Beam’s 8 Star at his feet.”

He rocks back in his chair with a quick gust of laughter, bringing his hands together for a clap and laughing. “Whew!” he says, “he ain’t curious no mo!”

Just past the midnight hour, we’ve finally had enough of this pitcher madness, and ask for our check. “Hmm, she forgot to charge us for one pitcher,” Jeff comments, eyeing it.

“Why, how many’s on there?” I ask.

“Six,” he says. Interesting…

Leaving here, we decide to head up to Traditions to close out the night. I take a slight detour to my apartment, to park there and then walk over, just as a safety procaution. Those two are already seated at the bar, and I join them, with some slight catching up to do. Bartender Steve is here as well, though off tonight and merely hanging out, just to the left of our trio. Jeff for some reason is in an extremely generous mood here and insists upon paying for every round.

“Whew, I’m pretty crooked,” Alan gasps.

“No,” I correct, and point at Jeff, “he’s crooked. You’re crippled.”

After we’ve finished off our third beers apiece, it’s time to take off. I’m walking up Kenny when those two fly past me, shouting and waving as they pass. Then they turn left onto Henderson and disappear into the night. I continue walking home.

January 4

Hanging out at Clif’s apartment, where we are listening to rap music while playing chess. He is the best player I’ve met in my few years living here, with this particular knack for bebopping around with his knights until occasionally pulling off a gruesome fork. Having said that, ahem, it’s true, heh heh, I almost always win.

He might be enjoying greater success in the neighbor department, however. Clif has been going on about this Molly chick who lives in this same complex, whom he only recently met, and about how hot she is. I still haven’t met her until tonight, when he’s chatting with her and she agrees to go out to dinner with both of us. He and I were planning on hitting the Friday’s up the road, and she effectively says sure, why not. But am not really thinking much about her or expecting anything, until she walks over here. Seated still at this chess table, finishing up our last game, she enters and I glance over…then do a double take. This chick is pretty hot. Long straight brownish blonde hair and adequate curves, kind of a Lisa Kudrow look about her in the face. Better yet, unless I’m totally losing my mind, I feel as though she did a double take reflected back at me, roughly synchronized with mine. So that could be a good sign, even if Clif obviously has designs on her.

“I used to play chess, years ago,” she says, pulling up a chair to watch this gripping finale.

At Molly’s suggestion, we hop into her stylish modern car with its accompanying stack of future payments, as she drives with Clif riding shotgun. As soon as we have parked and entered Friday’s, then, as an added bonus, this unexpected twist arrives in the form of Dane and Christine, sliding through these doors right behind us.  “Clif…Pockets…,” Dane mumbles, nodding at us with a broad grin. I haven’t seen him in a couple years, and somehow never realized before, until this moment, when he draws up beside us, how short this dude is, way more than even Clif and me.

It turns out Dane and Christine are meeting Maria and Jason here, who have already been seated. But, apart from my showing up over at their table once later, to grab Dane’s number, we don’t interact with them much. Christine grimaces and seems agitated, though she does pull a pen and scrap of paper from her purse. Back over at my own table, we’ve already ordered, and have gotten our drinks. These two are having Pepsi but I’m drinking Rolling Rock. Molly tells me I’m doing it the wrong way by pouring my beer directly into the center of the glass.

“No, see, that’s good,” I tell her, “the more circulation it has, the better your beer tastes.”

“Okay, whatever. You’re full of shit, aren’t you?” she scoffs. When I ask what would make her think that, she smirks and replies, “I don’t know, maybe because you kept moving your eyes away.”

After we eat and say goodbye to the others, the three of us pop back into Molly’s car. Where she pretty much blows my mind by popping in some Rush, specifically Closer to the Heart to begin with, preposterous as this seems. Chess, Rush, going out to dinner with us with very little prompting, dispensing advice on how to pour beer…yeah, this is shaping up as a nerd’s ideal chick. Or make that any guy’s, really. She even volunteered to drive and looks much hotter than expected. Regarding the music, when I admit being completely astounded that she has chosen to listen to this, Molly simply declares, “I love Rush.”

Back at the apartment complex, though, she announces she’s calling it a night as soon as we park. We bid our farewells and she says it was nice meeting me. “The pleasure was all mine,” I insist, as she giggles and walks off into the night. Clif accuses me of flirting with her. No! You don’t say! But hey, as far as anything I observed, she definitely looked like fair game.

January 10

Work early, stop at Hollywood Video on the way home to grab something to watch. Then later, before settling down to do so, decide to jog up to Kenny Market for some beer. May have overdone it a bit, though – I can feel the cold air hitting my lungs and I’m wheezing, which is unusual considering I pretty much never get sick and this stuff usually doesn’t faze me. Still, after buying a newspaper and a 22 ouncer of Honey Brown, I’m brown bagging it home in the dark. Cracking up at how much I probably look like a wino to the respectable Upper Arlington citizens driving past.

January 16

We’re all up somewhere between 9 and 10am. Growling stomachs lead all six of us to McDonald’s. Damon has Alan drive him to work for some overtime b.s., on a Sunday no less. Shelly picks up Paul, Paul, and Brian at noon, drives them back to Mansfield. Brian borrowed my Van Halen video. I take a nap and don’t wake up until 6pm.

January 17

Talk to Heather for quite some time. She’s asking what happened during Thanksgiving, when I was supposed to come over. I tell her I left a message with the roommate, who obviously didn’t pass it along.

Later, I call Clif. Since Jill bailed I’m going to have to think about either getting a roommate, or else asking Tyler if I can break the lease early here, or both. Based upon previous conversations I’m thinking Clif might be a decent candidate as a roomie, but he is holding onto some kooky notion that Molly is going to move in with him. Well, I can’t blame him there, if he seriously believes that’s going to happen. And actually I would prefer this outcome myself, even, if it meant possibly seeing more of her.

January 18

James called off so I wind up working from 8:30am to 9pm. After this, I’m more than ready to grab a drink, and hit Traditions by myself. Nothing’s happening there, however, so then I move up to sit at the bar at Arlington Cafe. No one else is seated within a ten mile radius of me here, either, at least not at first. But that all changes in one bizarre flurry about five minutes after I show up.

There are seven seats on this side of the bar, and the other six are empty – four to my left, two to my right. Six girls just so happen to glide through the door…four in one group, two in the other right behind them. And these are exactly the seats that they claim. Better yet, the one sitting at the far right is Jerilyn, who works in the pharmacy at my old Kroger. I’ve always thought she was hot and have tried talking to her a little bit at work, but it never really goes anywhere. I can’t tell if she’s just not interested or tries to stay really focused on the job or what. This is the first time we’ve ever bumped into one another out in the wild, although she did come up once, months ago, when Jill was still living with me.

It was a quiet night at home when Jill had yanked some “fold out” board game from one of her chick magazines and insisted we play it, on the living room floor in front of the TV. I landed on some square where I had to confess one coworker I always thought was good looking or had a crush on or whatever. But hemmed and hawed because I had a really good idea where this would lead, even though Jill kept pressuring me to answer the damn question. So I eventually said, “eh, I don’t know, I always thought that one girl in the pharmacy was kinda hot.”

“Oh whatever!” Jill shouted, “she’s ugly!”

“Yeah,” I laughed, “she’s so ugly that you knew exactly which girl I was talking about.”

It doesn’t look like I’m getting anywhere with her tonight either, though, at least not at first. I’m talking to the one girl sitting closest to me, but then that group of four gets up and leaves the bar completely not long after arriving here. So I’m down to just the other two, Jerilyn and her friend. Which would be okay, except before I’ve even had a chance to make much headway there, some dude shows up and literally physically wedges himself between them – he’s standing at the bar in between their two seats. It looks like he must be attached to Jerilyn so I just focus on chatting with the other one, who is conveniently much closer anyway.

Then by some miracle, he walks away. So I’m talking to both of them for a little while, and must even make at least one minutely astute or funny observation (I can’t recall what) which causes Jerilyn to say, “hell yeah, dude,” raising her glass to mine, as we clink them together for a toast.

Except then this tool returns from out of nowhere again, and whisks these two out of here, pretty much without another word said. Maybe I should have made more of the opportunity, but whatever. It might turn out to be some decent groundwork laid. He’s obviously placed some sort of claim on her for tonight anyway.

Instead, with Dane’s number in my pocket from that night at Friday’s, I drift out into the foyer to call him from a payphone. Figuring that he of anyone might have something interesting going on at this hour. But he says he’s on the other line with some chick, and asks with total seriousness, “can you call me back around 4 or 5?” Right, like that was going to happen.

January 19

Scheduled to work 8:30 to 4 like usual, but then Charles calls off and I get roped into staying over and working the lunchmeat that he was supposed to have done. Finally, I punch out at 7:30 and come home. After 23 1/2 hours the past two days, I’m pretty worn out, and figure I’ll lie down for a nap before deciding what to get into later. Instead I don’t even budge until briefly stirring at 4:30 in the morning, feeling wide awake. But can’t think of anything to do at this moment and drift back to sleep again instead.

January 20

Tom Tatera calls early to see if I can come over and open up their seafood shop – apparently Ed couldn’t make it in. I have to work my own shop, however. A pretty healthy amount of snow has fallen outside, actually, since the last time I looked.

Come home after working a normal 8 hours for once, then Damon and Paul show up later on. This is the beginning of our grand experiments with the props. I have an awesome night right out of the gate with this wedding ring crap. Actually it’s a memorable night all around (three on three at Arlington Cafe) although for whatever reason Damon and Paul don’t bother getting (or giving) digits with regards to their respective girls. I’m the only one to punch through, so to speak, tonight, although it’s an extremely encouraging showing and we have good reason to believe this is just the start of an impressive run.

January 24

The day kicks off with a hilarious meeting.  At work from 8:30 to 5 as usual, I fly through setting the case and head upstairs for our usual 10am Monday morning managers meeting. At these, we always have a smattering of food to lunch on, and grab soft drinks from this refrigerator in the conference room.

This particular scene begins with me standing there, about ready to grab a Pepsi from the fridge.  These are stacked on their sides, though, a disaster waiting to happen. Particulary when store assistant manager Sam Collins says, “grab one for me, will you?” So I pull two Pepsis out, and of course the whole damn stack comes tumbling out onto the floor.  The entire room erupts with laughter.

“He’s almost as funny as Mike Carney,” Steve Cokonougher, our store’s head honcho, says, “almost.”

“Yeah, except he doesn’t make any stupid comments during the meetings,” Rick (head frozen) adds.  Another hearty round of laughter ensues.

“How old are you, anyway?” Tracy asks me.

“24.”

“Hell, Steve’s got socks that are that old,” Tracy remarks, and everyone cracks up again.

“I do!” Steve agrees jokingly, then clarifies, “well, not socks, but I honestly do have shoes that old.”

After work, I continue moving odds and ends from across town over to my new apartment.  They’re letting me get in there before the month even ends. Tyler calls and we get our schedules aligned for him to come in and paint the place, steam clean, etc.  I spend the night at my old place, however, crashing on some cushions in the living room once again.

February 2

Just getting a feel for the bars around my new apartment, I head over to Shorty’s & hope Brenda’s there. But no, it’s some tall beefy bald guy, and on top of that, I have two drinks only to find out my debit card won’t work. I have no cash on my person, either. Leave him my ID and run to bank machine, but of course the balance is too low – which is why this card wouldn’t work in the bar. Think about driving over to Meijer, where I can buy some groceries and write them a check, but then remember they’ll ask for ID. Which, of course, I’d given to the dude at Shorty’s. Jesus. Just go home and crash, then, figure I’ll cash my paycheck tomorrow and settle up my tab then.

February 3

campus/ Used Kids/ snowing out/ boring night at A.C., Crazy Louie’s, Shorty’s.

February 9

Big Paul moves in. We hang out with Maria, Jason, Harold, Christine. Elwood dogs.

February 13

Next door neighbor chick knocks, asks if we want a case of free beer. It seems somebody left it there and she doesn’t drink the stuff. So of course we grab this, thanking her profusely. The only downside is she isn’t much to look at.

February 14

Jill calls while I am cooking, cranking music – let’s call this occasion Omelets & Ozzy. She decides to come over. We watch The Mummy before heading upstairs. I don’t know if this means we are officially “together” again or what.

February 15

I work 1-9, have 2 beers at home, pass out on couch. Then Jill calls at one in the morning. Paul let me borrow his Terminator (original) VHS tape, so after talking to Jill, I head up to my room with that. Throw that on to fall back asleep to, somewhere around 3.

February 16

Jill over again

February 18

A handful of us, having won this regional seafood contest for Kroger, are treated to dinner at the downtown Mitchell’s, and a night’s stay at the nearby Adam’s Mark hotel. I take Jill as my date. For a recap on dinner and review of the restaurant, please click that link.

Fortunately, by the time we arrive back at our room, both of us are feeling somewhat more awake. And yes, I’m sure this is a top notch establishment, but unlike, say, a premium steakhouse, there’s just really not much separating even an Adam’s Mark from your average chain lodging. Particularly as you’re only sleeping here a handful of hours. I feel the need to fire up the coffee pot – pictured below – for let’s just say inspirational reasons. There are two beds in our room, and we somehow manage to mess up both, but crash out in the larger one.

February 19

Alan, Damon, Paul, Maria, Jen and I hit Traditions, Arlington Cafe, wind up over at Maria’s afterwards.

February 20

Whiskey Still, Dirty Duds, C Note Lounge

February 24

Day off. Paul, Paul, Jill & me to campus. I know Radick is often ripping on Jill for whatever reason, but when she jokes around about doing all of us, to me he seems like he would be mighty interested in this concept.

February 28

I hang around with Linville when he’s doing his laundry (this Morse Road Dirty Dungarees is mighty convenient and possibly one of the best concepts in the history of mankind)…but then later take my own over to Jill’s house, so she can do it.

February 29

Hang out at home, Northland Mall. Paul new CDs. Steak and hash browns.

March 1

Day off, sunny. Tee Jaye’s, Big Bear, Clif’s. Paul gets a new job.

March 2

Pick up new Pumpkins CD at Northland Mall. Damon’s office. Don Pablo’s. Whiskey Still. Rosie O’Grady’s and the guy with the “ice skater” hair.

March 4

Melissa’s 21st birthday party, among other highlights. For details please click the date.

March 7

bored and I walk around our turf quite a bit after dark – Whiskey Still, Dirty Duds, pizza. When I get home, there’s a chopper flying overhead, and Linville happens to be chilling in the living room. “Jason’s out breaking into cars!” he jokes, about the presence of this helicopter and my sudden return.

March 8

Every day should be like this. Off work today, I drive down to campus, sit around on the Oval in the early afternoon, writing and reading while listening to tunes via headphone/walkman. When I passed the thermometer at Long’s Bookstore, it read 75 degrees – supposed to hit 83 by mid-afternoon, which would be a record here. Off tomorrow, too, and this combined with the unusually warm weather finds me in mighty chipper spirits. Also thinking that some of these kooky plans of mine are maybe ever so slightly starting to snap in place, how I want my life to be arranged – the kinds of stuff I don’t really mention to anyone, because they plainly consider my methods crazy anyway. It’s best I think to just slowly put these pieces together, knock them out and move on, and not make a big deal about it.

Later, chatting with Chrissy for awhile. Linville and I hit the Whiskey Still, bump into that Jen chick he’s really into.

March 9

Mall with Paul. Mexican restaurant with Damon’s crew. Traditions, Arlington Cafe, Maria’s house.

March 16

Maria and Jason come over. 5 shots Paul. No Chicago, no Jen & Amy.

March 18

Sam Ash/Chinese/Alan’s

March 19

My 25th birthday. Dad, Faith, Laura and Robin drive down to celebrate. They ask me where I want to go to for lunch, and I pick the China Buffet just up the road from my apartment. After this I direct them over to Easton Town Center, which they’ve not seen before. So we goof around over there for a little bit, before they bring me home.

Once back at the apartment, however, I discover I’ve locked myself out. Though I’m telling them they can totally just drop me off here, or over at Northland Mall, and I’ll just wait for my roomate to return, they insist it’s not trouble to stick around. So we sit in their minivan and pass sections of a newspaper around, taking turns reading them. Then a short while later, Big Paul and Damon show up. All in all a cool day. I thank the family and they return to Mansfield.

Still later, Clif invites me over to hang out. Then Jill shows up after work, though by then I’d just left. She wasn’t sure if she could make it so I just took off.

March 20

Spend 5 hours studying for this work related food safety test. It’s probably been like a decade since I’ve done anything even remotely similar to this. Seriously I think history class in the spring of ’91 was the last time I “studied” for anything.

March 21

One of my workers called in sick. But I have a food safety class to attend and am supposed to be off today. So I go in around 7, fly through setting the seafood case as quickly as possible, clock out around 7:30 or so and leave a note for the meat department, telling them nobody will be in over at seafood until 1 and asking them to cover.

Then book it out of there. It’s a gloomy, chilly morning, threatening rain. Heading east up Morse, I get about as far as the Easton area, coast to a stop at a red light…and my car dies. It won’t start back up, either, so I have to
get out, push it around the corner and leave it off to the side on Stelzer. Run to a nearby gas station, borrow their phone book, call the only nearby repair shop I see that also has towing, Evans Auto Repair. As far as my car, I’ve seen these signs before in past vehicles and am pretty sure it’s the alternator. They only charge $39 to tow, but want $55 an hour to “look” at the car. I have a feeling this is going to get pricy, even for just an alternator, which shouldn’t take long to “look”for.

The guy from Evans shows and hitches the car, I ride back that way with him. He’s a friendly, talkative fellow. Points to a creek near the Sunbury Road intersection and tells me he likes canoeing down it in the summer. Then, back at their shop, they advise me I basically have two options. I can a) wait around for a dispatcher to return and possibly catch a ride home the next time he went out, or b) walk. I opt for the latter. It’s only a couple miles, takes me less than an hour to get home.

By this point I’m dead tired and figure the bosses will be irate that I missed the food safety meeting. But oh well. I crash out for a couple hours, then decide to head into the store at 1:15 – both to make my story look good,
so they wouldn’t think I spent the day screwing around, but also because I can use the money.

Work until 5:30, walk home, then go out barhopping later with Linville. It seems like we hit a million bars, though in reality it’s “only” six: Traditions (lame, one beer here apiece), Pockets (no girls), Spuds
(closed), Eldorado’s (one beer here also), the Rafter Bar (stick our head inside, it was all old people), finally check out this place on Sinclair called Break-A-Way Sports Lounge.

When we arrive this Jessica chick is sitting at the bar, she is Jen’s twin sister. With her she has this hilarious but loud Joey cat, who tells me I look like Willem Dafoe. Not great, but as I explain to him, I’ve heard worse. 
They leave after we talk to them for a few – he was hitting the Whiskey Still, she was heading home. We decide to stick around and have a couple here. This place wasn’t really happening either, but it beats anything else we’ve seen. Plus, the barmaid, Krista, is cute and seems to be flirting with us. Paul shoots the breeze with this Mitch dude who runs the place, and when Linville talks to him about Bedlam possibly playing here, he says he will book any band once. So this could be a good opportunity for those guys, if they follow through.

March 22

Heather comes over, we’re reminiscing about old times. This is Linville’s first time meeting her as far as any of us can remember. He’s a good sport though about hanging out in the living room and chilling with us, interjecting comments every now and then.

“I remember how we used to always sneak around, like I’d hide in your car all day and read a book,” she says.

“Yeah, or like when you kept skipping school, and I’d call in every day, say I was your grandpa,” I laugh, “’til one day your principal said, you don’t sound old enough to be her grandpa!“

“Man, I think about that stuff all the time!” she declares, laughing heartily herself.

Linville leaves to get us more beer, returns. We have the disco ball mounted in a corner of the ceiling, of course, and it’s turned on now for ambience. Heather winds up passing out here, right on the couch, beside me. When we’re calling it a night, I grab a blanket to throw on her before heading upstairs. She briefly awakens, says she’s hungry and thirsty.

“Don’t think there’s much to eat here,” I tell her with a laugh, then head upstairs.

March 23

A bright, sunny day. I’m up for work at 8:30. Get home to discover Heather left a message. Linville thinks I’m insane for not calling her back tonight, but I think I actually know what I’m doing. To me he pulled a Clif by hanging out with Jen 24-7 and now she’s blowing him off. I’ll wait until 2-3 messages pile up and then call back. Instead, with this rare craving for sugar, I bake some brownies. Wolf these down as my late night snack while alternating between online chess and writing.

I’ve had this routine for quite some time now that I’ll switch back and forth between the two for exactly one hour blocks. Obviously if a chess game runs over, I will just finish that, then write again for exactly one more hour, before returning to chess. And back and forth. This is amazingly productive in that after even about 6 hours of this, you’ve accomplished a ton, even while spending half your time screwing around.

Linville plans to hit the S.O.D. show at Alrosa Villa, after pregaming at the Whiskey Still. He was trying to talk me into going but I couldn’t make it. Heather leaves a message. He thinks I’m insane for blowing her off, too, but she was just over here yesterday. And spent the night, thank you very much. I’m not trying to launch into some full scale serious thing again, particularly not with other projects afoot. Then Paulie staggers home half ripped from the Still, anyway, had decide to skip S.O.D. and continue getting loaded at the bar instead.

March 25

Alan and Big Paul have already plowed through qutie a bit of cheap beer, and are moderately lit by the time I get home from work. I crack one open and join them at the kitchen table, while Alan regales us with stories of his Vegas trip – says he won $600, then took everybody in their party (about 12 of them, including Roy and some hot girls) out for a night on the town at Studio 54. Paid for all their drinks, their way in, and then, afterwards, buys an assload of liquor and hosts a party in their hotel room.

“Me and Roy got this ironing board and set it up as our wet bar,” he explains. Adds that the girls were all wasted, running around the room in their panties and bras. He got some digits from one of them, who just so happens to live here in Columbus, on campus. Well well well. Very nice.

As I’ve been saying for a couple years now, there’s nights out drinking with your friends…and there’s nights out drinking with Alan. This is the night we wind up creating a fair amount of mayhem at the Steak
N’ Shake out by Easton. Or I should say, he does, and to a lesser extent Big Paul. In this particular instance I am mostly just an idle bystander.

I was working 1 to 9 and at about 15 minutes to closing time, Alan calls me there. He’s sitting over in my kitchen with Linville and wants to see what I’m getting into. So I wind up joining them for a night on the town – even though those two have already plowed through a decent amount of cheap beer, and are moderately lit before I make it home. Makes total sense, then, that we somehow decide Alan will be driving.

We start out at the T.G.I. Friday’s at Kenny & Henderson. Here, we chill out at the bar, and order a little bit to eat. Those two both order tall drafts, but I’m just going with a Pepsi at this hour. Two Latino looking chicks sit down beside us, next to me but around the corner. Alan and Paul are checking them out hardcore, but the weird thing about them being this close to me is that I can’t really, from this angle, without being over the top and
obvious about it – either I turn that way and talk to them, or just ignore them.

One easily overlooked positive of approaching strangers, which I realize tonight, is that doing so helps rule out candidates that you otherwise might have wondered about later. With some encouragement from the guys, egging me on, I do start chatting with these two ladies. And then can see from where I’m sitting that they are much older than we initially thought. If not even bothering to do so, though, who knows? We might have been kicking ourselves, thinking that some golden opportunity had dropped into our laps and we blew it. But now, we can safely move on.

From here, we are heading up the road to Traditions, or as I like to sometimes “jokingly” call it, Trashed-With-Alan’s. As we’re getting out money to pay our respective bills, I make a comment about being ready to knock back some beer, which Linville scoffs at. “Oh yeah, why you drinking Pepsi, then?” he retorts.

“What!?” Alan shrieks as he scans his bill, “Four fifty for a Killians draft!”

“That’s why I’m drinking Pepsi,” I tell Paul.

Steve is bartending over at Trads, but even his hilarious tales can only keep us entertained for so long. That blonde Lori chick shows up, then the smooth bartender guy from over at Friday’s. What ladies are here seemed to be clamped down and spoken for, so we take off after having a few. Somehow, Alan mentions being hungry again already. And we are not opposed to hitting Tee-Jaye’s, either, when he suggests this, if nothing else to keep the night going a little longer. By now it’s been a little while since dinner anyway. You can pick up the rest of the story by clicking on the link to that Steak N’ Shake up above.

Much, much later, after we get in from the bar, Linville’s frying up steaks, Alan and I are waiting about as patiently as two starving humans possibly can. He’s inquiring about these brownies, though they’ve been sitting out this entire time and whose texture right now, I’m certain, is probably roughly equal to granite.

“Remember that big rock in front of Pebble Creek?” I ask him.

“Yeah?” Alan says.

I point at the tray of brownies and he explodes with laughter, a reaction mostly attributable I’m sure to the gallons of beer he’s consumed. So then he grabs the entire chunk, at least that which will come out of the tray, and throws it as hard as he can against the kitchen wall. Amazingly enough, this doesn’t leave any dent marks, it just sends chocolate shards flying every which way. I pick up a large piece that lands nearby and begin gnawing on it.

March 26

Work, come home and crash for a couple hours afterwards. Then Paul and I head up to the Whiskey Still. Jen’s sitting at the bar – he says hello, otherwise doesn’t talk to her. Now he’s getting the hang of it!

March 29

Big Paul and I hit the Break-A-Way for some drinks. The main reason I mention this is what for what you might call its “historical footnote” status: he stole their vacuum cleaner. We were walking out the back door, and I’m slightly in the lead, and the next thing I know he’s urging me to hurry up…because he just grabbed this puppy, right before exiting. To this day I have no idea why. But yeah, sorry, Break-A-Way owners, if you’ve ever wondered what became of this vacuum cleaner, my roommate took it.

March 30

Somewhat of a bum Thursday. Four of us and Cori hit campus, but nothing too exciting happens. Angela at Logan’s.

April 3

Lunch at Milano’s

April 4

Heather calls about dog. Work 9 – 4:45. Meeting at 7 coffee cold.

April 7

My old boss Tom Tatera calls me at work –  they’ve stepped Eddie down over there to where he’s now just a meat clerk. And as is often the case, are looking for a different store to send him to, most likely Henderson Road. So Tom asks me if I would consider signing up for the head seafood job at Bethel. And so after discussing this with him, I do just that.

April 8

A bunch of us head out to Grandview Cafe. Are surprised to discover that Emily’s sister works here! We almost get into a fight with some random dudes.

I hate to say it but I’ve just realized that…every single time I’ve ever been in a physical altercation, or close to it, one of two guys has been present. And they were both out with us tonight. They always make it sound very reasonable and justifiable, in their explanations of the events, but after a while I think you have to conclude that this isn’t some wacky coincidence. These guys are hotheads. Tonight the cover story is that allegedly these other guys were giving us dirty looks from across the bar. But I don’t know about that, and furthermore, don’t care.

April 14

Chris had asked me with to switch shifts with her, and I do, wind up work 1pm until about 9:30 – I was running behind and stayed over a bit to catch up. We are really slow for a Friday (my theory is that everyone is grilling to take advantage of the nice weather, not screwing around shopping for groceries), but after having the last two days off, this gives me time to get the department back up to speed. James called off yesterday, after being sent home the previous Thursday for arguing with a customer, failing to show up on Friday, then being suspended on Sunday for the Friday no-show. Yesterday was his next scheduled day to work – and the call out means I will have to suspend him tomorrow for 3 days. Good times. But it appears about 90 percent certain that I will be moving back to Bethel Road after Easter. Steve and Sam don’t want me to leave – and since it’s a zone change, they could theoretically block it – but most of us doubt they will stop it from happening.

Despite the hefty raise in November and then moving to this much cheaper place, I feel like I’m still playing catchup from that debacle with Jill moving out in a huff. Not to mention the ongoing challenge of running all over the place constantly and then attempting to keep track of one’s finances afterwards. So yeah…the rent check bounced, I had to clear that up; I have to pay $49.85 by Tuesday on the phone bill to avoid disconnection; a loan payment to send out; driving around on a suspended license (busted without insurance) and expired tags (and actually still no insurance). That last part means I often can’t park here at my own apartment complex or they will tow me. So I either park at work, during the daytime, or else here if it’s after office hours and I’m leaving early the next day.

Regardless, I refuse to change how much of my paycheck goes into the retirement account. My thinking is that this stuff is all fleeting, it will handle itself, one way or the other. I’m not getting derailed, or altering the things I’m doing that are actually working. And if I can keep it together until about August, then it will be smooth sailing from here, I can breathe easy for the first time in basically four years. I’ve already got about $12,000 saved.

Staying home whenever possible, whenever there’s not much going on, certainly helps. Tonight it’s just me, Tuna Helper, and the Lewis & Clark book John let me borrow.

April 16

Another sunny, 80 degree day. Come home and kick it awhile with the writing/chess tango. Try to call Heather back but she’s not home at present. Cook myself a hamburger, then run around knocking out various errands, like cashing my paycheck at the Henderson Road Kroger. Bookstore. Paul gets back home from a weekend in Mansfield.

April 17

Chilly day, raining heavily. Home from work and I’m extremely surprised to have a letter from Amy waiting for me in the mailbox. She doesn’t have a ton to say, although she does give me her email address. As for dinner, Paulie is actually quite the chef, he makes trout and some stir fry vegetables. Then we head out to rent some movies and junk food. Neither one of us have much money to spare, so this is it for entertainment at the moment. Stopping at the new convenience store just up the road, we’re able to acquire the chips and cookies necessities. They don’t have milk or chip dip, though, oddly enough, which means we must drive up to the circle like always and dip into the little mart there.

“We’ve got our other three food groups today, we just need dairy,” I tell the checkout lady, and she laughs.

We watch some of the movies, but then he crashes out and I wander upstairs to keep working on the Night Driving rewrites. It’s weird, though – I had this novel written in first person for so long, but it just wasn’t working. Only with this latest draft did I think to try and switch it to third person, and for some reason this has just clicked. As much as you’re ever sure that what you’re working on is any good, that is. Anyway, I’m up until about 1:30, mostly on the computer.

April 18

Gloomy day, but no rain except very early on. Even so it’s enough to keep Linville from working for all but a couple hours. Heather has left messages on two separate days this week, but our schedules are all out of whack. It feels like we spend much more time making phone calls (and this is even with my avoidance antics on that front) than physically being together. It would be interesting, actually, if you tallied up the hours of one versus the other, week to week.

Paul tries calling Bridget, to no avail. I briefly consider going up to Break-A-Way to watch the Tribe game, before deciding just to stay in. Just more of this constant battle to attempt conserving money and not going anywhere if there’s truly nothing happening, even though you’re going stir crazy at times. So it’s more movie watching, him concocting dinner (spaghetti, cheesy instant mashed potatoes), me staying up until 3am with chess and writing tonight. And here all the whiskey had been polished off last night, leaving me with nothing to sip but beer, even though I’m not really in the mood.

April 19

I only have to fill in for 4 hours today, from 9 to 1. We just hired this young Latasha girl to replace James, and she’s awesome. So she’s in at 1, and at Donza’s insistence, I tell her to do nothing but make shrimp rings with every spare moment she has, today and tomorrow. He says this store sells a mountain of those every Easter and we cannot possibly have enough.

But then he calls me at 4 to say we will need some more cocktail sauce soon, because she’s been able to make so many of them. An awesome predicament, overall, but now I’m on the phone with the other stores in town, trying to find anyone who has some sauce to spare. Just about every seafood shop is unmanned at the moment, though, or else they’re not answering their phones period. Finally, Martha over at Worthington Square says she can lend me two tubs of bulk sauce. Not what I wanted, but it will suffice.

In between all this, Radick stops by to hang out, during a break in his classes. He, Linville and I cruise up the road to Arby’s for some lunch. The only reason Big Paul is even home today, a Wednesday, when he should
theoretically be working, is due to an early drizzle – even though the sun came out later. Considering he does work outside, that was enough for his boss to cancel today’s projects.

Therefore in the name of something to do, Linville says he’ll run me over to get the cocktail sauce. Radick had headed back to school at around a quarter till 3, and after Donza’s call, we head out.  Then upon returning, Big
Paul decides to start messing around with some music equipment in the living room. He asks me to play bass on this one tune he’s been slaving over. One of the tracks doesn’t work on his 4 track machine, and the only way he can figure out to sync drums, bass, and a second guitar part is to have all three playing live at the same time. So he shows me what to play, a really simple part, and I think it goes okay. While he rocks out on guitar and the drum beat plays behind us. It’s a pretty damn catchy song he’s written, but after getting just one passable take, his machine, which is on its last legs, starts malfunctioning anyway and we have to give it a rest.

After days of playing phone tag, Heather calls again and finally gets ahold of me. We make plans to do something tomorrow, which is cool because we both actually have the day off. She says Stephanie will be gone and she’ll have the house to herself.

As far as today, Linville and I decide to play some chess, another first. He’s surprisingly good for a guy who doesn’t play very often. I really have to apply myself, and while winning both games, it came down to an endgame situation both times – a situation some true “beginner” would never get into. I’m mighty impressed. It’s cool, too, playing new people, because you see some weird openings, ones you’re not familiar with.

April 23

 I wake up at 6am to the sound of someone banging around downstairs, in the kitchen. From here it sounds like someone is screwing around with the microwave, opening and closing and opening and closing the door repeatedly. The only problem with this scenario is that my roommate drove home to Ashland for the weekend, so there shouldn’t be anyone else here. In my dreamy, half asleep state, I’m trying to imagine what could have possibly caused him to return at such an ungodly hour, considering I was up past one in the morning and know he hadn’t made it here as of then.

Then I fall back asleep for awhile, smirking to myself at the highly amusing thought of this bum, wandering in off the streets, just to borrow my microwave for a minute. But more likely, this could be Damon, who does have a key here – I’m not sure what he was doing or where he was last night. Waking up for good at 8:30, I drift downstairs and see that it was in fact him, passed out on the couch. Although he does stir when he hears me stomping around. I laugh and ask him how in the world he ended up here.

“Had a date last night down here…went until about 4 or 5 in the morning,” he groggily explains.

“Cool,” I say, and depart moments later.

A hot, sunny day of about 70 degrees, another gorgeous Easter like the one in ’98. Although the weather may have some effect on our projected sales, which are far weaker today than anticipated. Much like Thanksgiving, Christmas, et cetera, I feel that the weeks leading up to these events are predictably robust, but the holiday itself is somewhat of a crapshoot. Sometimes you do get slammed, and on other occasions it’s a ghost town. An early rush is expected but never comes, just as a post-church rush is expected but never comes. It is in effect the dullest shift I have ever spent here.

Christine isn’t due in until 5, and it’s so dead I’m thinking about jetting early. I write her a humorous note saying WELCOME TO THE MOST BORING DAY OF YOUR LIFE! GOOD LUCK FINDING SOMETHING TO DO! Except then she inexplicably shows up early anyway, and I take off without any gap in coverage.

Heather has left another message, so I call her back around 7. She’s been off all weekend and says she took acid yesterday, is therefore sore all over. I’m thinking she wants to hook up with me again, and does indeed invite me over tonight. Though unsure if I really want to get involved with her in a serious capacity once more, I’m all for keeping things just this casual and seeing where they lead.

April 26

I have the day off and am able to sleep in until 9. Make three biscuits with grape jelly for breakfast, which is literally about the only thing in the house to eat. Then drive over to pay my electric bill, stop at the Northern
Lights Kroger on Cleveland. It’s my first time shopping here, and I must admit to being surprised by how modern and clean it looks inside. They’ve lost about 30% of their sales to the Sav-A-Lot that recently opened across the street (I
know this because they’re in the same zone as us).

After getting the groceries, I swing back home to drop them off. Radick usually hangs out here in between classes on Wednesdays, but he’s not here for whatever reason today. And Linville remains in his room, I can hear him listening to the radio in there. It’s sunny and perfectly breezy out, though, so I decide to walk up to the Karl Road library. And it was all made worthwhile too when I crossed paths with this lovely, curvaceous, short brunette with long straight hair and purple “granny” sunglasses. As she and I passed each other on the sidewalk, she flipped her hair and smiled at me, as I smiled back in return. Funny how little things like that can make your day.

April 27

Damon and Little Paul both show up at the house right around 4. After they and Big Paul and I sit around discussing what to go into, Damon suggests we tour the Budweiser plant. We’ve been meaning to do this for quite some time – there’s free brew awaiting at the end of it – and this seems as good a time as any.

The plant is located not all that far away, right where Busch dead ends into Schrock. We see a sign about visitor check in and I drive us over there. But inside the heavily guarded gates – this is no joke – there’s now no mention about visitors anywhere within sight. Three semi trucks idle in front of a security guard and his booth, there’s a fenced in employee lot nearby, and that’s about it. I execute a U-turn, planning to drive around some more and see if there’s another entrance we missed.

“Wait!” Damon suggests, “I’ll go ask the security guy.”

So I do another U and lead us back to this little outpost, separate from the check in gate where trucks come in and out. Damon runs to confer with the guard. Meanwhile, I marvel at how well guarded this fortress is.

“Hey, there’s a lot more that goes into beer besides drinking it,” Linville jokes.

When Damon returns a few minutes later, I ask in jest, “did they pat you down?”

“Huh? Ah no,” he says, flopping into the passenger seat, “but as soon as I walked in, he was like, let me guess – keg?“

“Ah, you can buy kegs here…,” I note.

“He said they’re not doing those tours right now because of all the construction,” Damon explains, “and said it doesn’t look very likely that they’ll do it again after all that construction’s over with.”

“You guys wanna cruise on down to campus and grab a pitcher at Panini’s?” Radick suggests.

April 28

Connie had to be to work by 7, and wakes me up at 5:30. An hour that is arriving mighty early this morning, I might add. Stumbling in the dark, we make it outside on this very chilly morning. She’s shivering and I turn on the heat to drive her the short distance home.

Back to crash in my bed again by 6, but those other three maniacs are all awake by 9, cranking Pink Floyd’s new live Wall CD. I can hear Paul, Paul and Damon downstairs laughing their heads off discussing last
night, and eventually give up on sleep to join them. I don’t have to be in until 1, so we decide to grab an early lunch. But I do have a paycheck waiting on me, so we pop over to my Kroger, those other three wait around outside while I grab it. When I return Damon is losing his mind over this chick he spotted in the parking lot.

“Did you see that hot little black bitch in a skirt!?” he immediately asks me.

“Yeah,” I confirm, knowing exactly who he was talking about – she’d actually gotten into line at the customer service desk right behind me, accompanied by this older white lady that works in the deli.

“Does she work here? She got out of the car with some other woman wearing a blue smock.”

“Yeah, that lady works here, but I’ve never seen that black girl before.”

Stlll marveling at the scene, Damon describes in detail his good fortune of having looked over and spotting that girl’s ass, bent over in sublime fashion, just as she was climbing out of the car.

Well, anyway, from here we walk over to China Buffet. The four of us grab a table in back and get to work – with lunch and also the repayments. This stuff is getting mighty complicated. I owe Radick $25 from last night, but meanwhile, Damon hands me $10 that he borrowed at Eldorado’s weeks ago (which I’d actually forgotten about). So I pick up Radick’s lunch, pass him off the $10, and we calculate the balance remaining, until I can actually cash this check.

Back at the apartment, those three fall asleep listening to the live Wall some more. I get ready for work and clock in at five till one. They all head up to Lexington later for band practice, leaving me with a nice, quiet, empty apartment to chill out in for the night – which is surely a good thing. I do hear Linville returning at 1am, but even though he shouts, “hello?” a couple times, I don’t have the energy to respond.

April 30

Finally, a day that was more or less normal. Get out of bed at 8:50 and clock in right at 9. Heather calls around 6, saying she got 4 tickets for Dave Matthews. We’re both on the same page about that guy – he’s tolerable – but agree it’s something to do, anyway, and should at least be somewhat cool. Then later I talk to Clif, and we agree to hang out, maybe fire up the grill over at his place.

This is about 8 o’clock, and I hop in the car soon after. Linville’s still locked in his room listening to the radio, like he always is here lately, so I don’t even bother disturbing him. As soon as I roll into the parking lot, these two hot blondes are dipping into his neighbor’s house. Ordinarily we would have gone over there, as Clif knows the guy, but it wasn’t just them, they were accompanied by three dudes. Actually when I enter his house, Clif’s asking me about the hooting and hollering he just heard, assuming it was me – I tell him no, it actually wasn’t me, rather these people I just saw enter his neighbor’s place. And describe the scene.

Well, by now, it’s 5 minutes to 9, and Clif doesn’t even have any beer. So we hotfoot it down the street to a carryout, try to make it there before they close at 9. It’s a few minutes after, by the time we arrive, but they let us in anyway. We pick up a 12 pack of Bud Light bottles and traipse back to his house.

Now Clif attempts to start the grill, throw on some chicken. Except he’s almost out of lighter fluid, and the coals won’t light. And then he really is out of fluid, after messing around with it for a while, necessitating a trip up to Kroger. We’ve only had one beer each by this point, and after Clif makes a pitstop at his neighbor Karen’s house to see if she feels like partying or something (she answers the door in a bathrobe, says she’s going to bed), we split.

I fly like a maniac over to the Henderson Road Kroger, squealing tires and all. Park too close to a shopping cart receptacle, which means I can only barely squeeze out of my own door. Inside, Clif rustles up some lighter fluid
and two loaves of bread, and we hit the checkout. There’s some R & B tune playing on the Muzak and Clif sings a line in falsetto.

“Is that you, Randy?” this cute blonde asks, all smiles. She’s working the next line over, but Randy’s running the register we are at.

“Yeah, that was Randy,” Clif tells her.

But then this Randy cat scoffs. “That wasn’t me. My voice doesn’t go that high.”

This is obviously our foot in the door with that blonde, but I can’t think of anything clever to say to extend the conversation.

May 1

I only work 9 to 1:30 today. We have tacos and fresh fruit at our Monday meeting, which I look forward to very much. Coming off the slowest seafood week I’ll see all year, volume-wise, I’m ready to rock again, and spend the last two hours of my shift loading up for a busy week.

I’ll bet I didn’t get 12 hours of sleep over the last four days (Thursday-Sunday), which is just insane. It’s like I’m exhausted but can’t get any rest anyway, something’s out of whack with my sleep patterns. So today I
manage to crash for two hours in the afternoon/early evening, from about 5-7, then get up just in time to eat some steak and vegetables that Linville happens to be cooking. By now it’s started raining, too, putting an end to our solid week of amazing weather. Then Heather unexpectedly shows up at 8:30 with some spaghetti she just made, which is still hot. But I’m not hungry now and throw it in the fridge for later.

May 2

The sun came back today, bright and bringing with it a temperature of 70 some degrees. I work 9 to 5, come home, change into sandals and shorts, walk up to the Karl Road library again. Then decide to swing by Sam Ash and look around at stuff – I see that Arty cat who works at High 5 in some capacity, wasn’t aware that he’s also an employee here. A different employee compliments me on my Alice In Chains tee shirt, so then we’re talking about that band for a minute. The place closes at 8, so of course everyone’s coming out of the woodwork trying to assist me. Later, I work some more on the rewrite of my second novel, listening to the Indians on AM radio.

May 3

Day off and what a fine, full one it is, sunny and warm as hell, just beautiful. Shop for groceries at the Columbus Square Kroger for a change. Home to read paper, write, clean kitchen, wash dishes, with the stereo I pulled from our dumpster cranking tunes throughout – what a find,  there’s nothing wrong with it whatsoever. But then I cut myself washing dishes (you might say I’m clearly out of practice, heh heh) when a glass breaks in my hand. So I put a Band-Aid on it and walk up to the Northland Mall.

And experience quite the hilarious encounter while here. I read some magazines for a while in the bookstore, but then, walking somewhere else, I unexpectedly bump into my former employee James…working at a kiosk in the middle of the eastern wing. He only stopped showing up at our store back on Friday. Is sitting down here, but then stands when he sees me and claims he doesn’t actually work here, was only “watching it for a friend so he could take his break.” Says that he actually got a job at IBM already. Right, right.

He’s a nice kid and everything, but the work ethic needs a little shoring up. According to him, he got in a fight with Tracy on Friday, and quit on the spot. Which I know isn’t at all what happened. And is now bellyaching to me that they expected him to work too hard at Kroger for how little ($5.35/hour) they were paying him.

Home, I finish up the dishes, listen to the Tribe play. Then later decide to walk up to Gabby’s. It only takes about twenty minutes. That cool old timer Jack is the bartender and I drink two Budweisers at the bar while watching the Braves/Dodgers game. Walk home, by which point Damon is unexpectedly crashed out on our couch, TV flickering for background noise.

May 4

Radick shows up a little bit after I get home from work. He’s asking what’s going on with LInville and I admit I really haven’t seen much of the guy for the past two weeks. I know that he’s not working for that Ben guy now and therefore just sits in his room pretty much all the time here of late. Today though Radick knocks on his door and finally gets him to emerge.

“Don’t eat the deer meat, dude,” he tells me, “I’ve been sick as fuck for two days.”

Well, he must have forgotten, but I actually ate some of the deer meat at the same time as he, during one of the rare occasions I’ve seen him recently. So I don’t believe that’s the culprit. I have some suspicions about what I
really think is going on, but we’ll leave it at that. And by the time Damon gets here, he’s disappeared back into his room. Radick’s dad is out of town, so he has to let the dogs out and so forth, therefore he takes off as well.

So it’s just Damon and me hanging out this time around. We knock off a couple miniatures pizzas, and he calls his sister’s friend, the one also named Melissa whom he banged last summer. He got her digits last Thursday at
Panini’s, but she doesn’t answer now.

By now we’ve had about four cans of Milwaukee’s Worst. He hops in the shower and then we take off to see what’s happening around these parts. We swing by Gabby’s, but it looks dead, so we keep moving. Rush Creek sounds like a viable option, so we continue up to 161 and then drive out that way. During which we pass a forgotten about third (that I know of) Banana Joe’s location that looks equally moribund as the last.

But Rush Creek isn’t exactly jumping, either, this too is deserted. This is shaping up to be a real mystery – normally a warm Thursday night would have people out in relative droves – but we decide to give this up in favor of checking out Easton. Not a ton going on here, either, though, so we finally wind up settling in down at Eldorado’s. By way of the Tee-Jaye’s next door first, of course.

As it is somewhat late by the time we show up, and normally well into the “breakfast” zone, Damon asks if we can order dinner.

“You can have anything you want,” she replies in passing, before coming over to take our order. He and I look at each other, raise our eyebrows, smirk and say, “hmmm!” at the same time.

“It’s funny how you and me think alike,” he remarks.

“Notice how even these waitresses here are perfect for this place?” I observe, “they’re kind of good looking, but not really, but you’d do them anyway…”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a laugh.

May 6

I wake up around 9:30, buzzing around the house getting ready for my interview over at Bethel Road. I decide that a long sleeved dress shirt and khaki slacks make for the right outfit, but am burning up during my drive across town.

After the interview, I return home and the first thing I notice is that Paul must have gone back to his parents’ house for a night or two, because his 4 track and p.a. are gone. But I don’t think much more about it, because it’s now ten till 1, leaving me just a few minutes to change and leave for my current job.

Work flies by. We are busy as hell, considering it’s the last night of “Meat Madness” week, and the meat department’s so screwed I wind up going out to straighten their lunchmeat section, put out some ground beef here and there, and in general just kind of help them out at the end. Over in seafood, I pretty much just give Boots some more pointers and let him close up the shop. When we leave, Clark and Gary are still trying to close down meat. Maybe I should have stayed to help, but eh, it’s not required, technically isn’t my department, and I’ve already had enough fun for one day.

It’s only when I get home that I realize the full scope of what happened here today, which might have occurred while I was over at that interview – Linville has split, without a word said. I open the video cabinet, see that all his movies and CDs are gone. Then head upstairs and open the door to observe a completely emptied out room. The only reason I hadn’t noticed earlier is that he left that video cabinet behind and the entertainment center, his VCR. But that’s about it.

I don’t really care about it too much, because he’s obviously going through some stuff. So hopefully he can get straightened out. Coincidentally, mere minutes after I make this discovery, Damon just happens to swing through. He has that date with Jessica tonight at 9:30, says he just wanted to stop by to see what we might be doing. That’s when I show him the carnage.

“See, I told you something was fucked up,” Damon says, and he was right. In addition to commiserating with me, he’s also kind of wondering what this might mean for the future of Bedlam. But I’m sure everything will eventually work out fine on that front.

Damon leaves, amusingly enough, just after 9:30. One can only hope Jessica isn’t watching the clock too closely. Damon himself isn’t holding out much hope for this date, remarking, “I’m sure it will be an early night.” And that he’ll probably be back here by 11, at which point maybe we can do something with Melissa and her friends.

May 8

I come in to open, and observe that Boots did a pretty good job closing last night. Yeah he’s a little goofy, but I have to admit, I am impressed. Fly through setting up the case in an hour, which is made much easier now that Bruce Lucia (president) doesn’t want us using kale anymore to garnish the case. So we’re using these crappy dividers instead, which don’t look half as nice, but do save us some time. Before you had to “punch out” the kale, meaning run them under hot and cold water both, which gives them that nice vibrant bright yet dark green color that really shines. And then artfully arrange things in the case in whatever flowing pattern you desired. Now it’s just all straight lines.

At 10 o’clock, it’s time for our department head meeting upstairs. Ribeye steaks, french fries, salad, and cake are on the tap for lunch, which tastes fantastic to me after a week of the same old junk at home. Steaks are dry, but who cares, it’s free.

Right before I get off, Ed from Henderson Road calls. Says they had to let someone go (my guess is Steve) and wants to know if can work Tuesday and Friday nights over there. But of course! Also wants to know about this Saturday, too, but I tell him I might be working at Bethel, though can probably help them out if not. When I get off the phone, Kim asks me why I’m so excited, and I tell her I’ve got some sweet overtime hours lined up.

At home, I find the library’s Jane’s Addiction CD, which has been overdue for months. I considered it lost, but here it was mixed in with Paul’s stuff the whole time in the living room. Sunny and warm out yet again, I throw on shorts and walk up to the Karl Road branch again to return it. Hang out reading the sports section, then continue on foot up to Big Bear. Buy stuff to make homemade pizza tonight, and a black cherry Kool-Aid packet. Without a roommate I’ve got to tighten things up a bit and chill until the overtime dough pours in.

May 9

I work at Henderson Road with David after getting off at my own store.

May 10

I call Bethel Road today to talk to Tom, but he’s off. Jill answered the phone at customer service when I called, though, and we agreed to talk later tonight. Then she transferred my call back to the meat department. Then around 10:30 she calls and we talk for awhile, she admits that during a recent drunken night she just might have possibly slept with Jamie.

“Oh my God! You’re shameless!” I tell her with a hearty laugh.

She’s on the fence about coming over here, until I casually mention that I’ve been seeing this Connie chick and have also resumed things in somewhat low-key fashion with Heather as well. After hearing this Jill’s basically over here in an instant. She shows up wearing her skirt and dress blouse from work still, looks very nice, and brings two movies for us to watch. We make it through the first one, anyway. Later, I would say around 1am or so, she’s talking about leaving, says she has to work early. I suggest she just crash here, but she takes off, albeit while wearing a pair of my sweatpants.

May 11

Damon, Paul and I hit Don Pablo’s for dinner, drinking canned Tecuva poured into mugs. Then stop by Sara’s apartment, to give her money for this upcoming weekend on Lake Erie. The four of us sit around, polishing off more beer and two half full bottles of wine. Damon’s looking up the Menus show schedule online, on her computer, then gets on this kick of pulling up porn site after porn site. I get bored and borrow her phone to call Jill, see what she’s doing. She says she went home early with “cramps” and doesn’t feel like going anywhere. Or at least, she can’t hardly risk being seen out on the town tonight, not after going home early. I could maybe still drive over to her place, but it doesn’t sound like she’s up for much tonight so I leave it alone. She tells me to call back when I get home, and I agree to.

We head back to my house to get ready for the evening, while deciding what to get into. And it’s not like we don’t have plenty of options on the table. Connie and Jessica both will be at Eldorado’s tonight, but we’re blowing them off.  In fact, Damon says he pretty much told Jessica as much, after their date, saying he might get ahold of her, “in three weeks when I get bored.” There’s a message on my machine, Melissa and Melissa want to go out drinking with us, which we never respond to. And I somehow mysteriously fail to call Jill back – I don’t know, I think we all just want to branch out and find something new.

Of course our interpretation of just what this means might vary. Those two want to see Jenna Jamison perform at Solid Gold, but I feel like I’m kind of over that stuff. You’re much more likely to make something happen in a regular old bar as opposed to a strip club. So I tell them to drop me off at Traditions, and they do, as they continue ahead to Solid Gold.

I’m not sure exactly how long it will be before they swing back by to scoop me up, therefore attempt pacing myself on the rum n’ Cokes front. I sit at the bar, scribbling notes on a napkin, after reading a couple papers. People watching, because there’s not a ton happening here with the ladies tonight, though a handful of Friday’s employees are present. Oddly enough, seeing them makes me miss that lifestyle, and one of the notes I jot down is to maybe start waiting tables on the side again, once this mad overtime situation blows over at Kroger. Then who should I happen to meet but this nice couple named Pat and Elaine. Pat tells me he owns this restaurant in Grandview called Orleans, and is looking for daytime wait help, three or four shifts a week – just what I might be looking for!

“Any rules or regulations you have, you can throw them out the window,” I caution, “but I’m good. I might show up with a stain on my sleeve or a tie that’s not quite in style, but I’m good.”

“Ooh, he wears a tie!” Elaine coos to Pat. So it doesn’t sound like they’d have any problems with this picture I have painted.

We exchange numbers, and soon after this Damon and Paul show up. By now I’ve polished off six drinks, but then again this beats paying $15 to watch some porn star dance. Once we get home, I actually pick Connie’s number up off my bookshelf, think about calling her, then say to hell with that and go to bed instead.

May 12

After my own 9 to 5 shift at Morse Road, I drive out to the Henderson Road store to close again.

May 13

After leaving Bethel Road, I stop at the treasured old Wendy’s to grab some grub, then slide on into the Henderson Road store.

Later, Damon, Melissa, Ann and I will hit Gatsby’s.

May 14

After putting in my usual 9 to 5 shift at Morse, I drive out to Henderson again for a closing shift.

May 15

My last department head meeting at Morse, featuring ribeye steaks, French fries, and salad. “You won’t eat this good over there,” Cokonougher taunts. He adds that he still thinks my move is a mistake. “You’re young,” he says, “live and learn.”

He wishes me the best, though, and then Joyce observes, “you know if you leave, that means we can talk about you at these meetings.”

“Just like Carney,” someone else suggests.

“Hell, we talked about Carney when he was here,” Cokonougher points out.

May 16

I work my normal 9 to 5 shift at Morse. Ryan had called asking if I could help close at Bethel, so I drove over there afterwards. Upon clocking out there, I buy the goods to make two of those homemade pizzas I’ve recently
fallen in love with.

Damon swings by shortly after I get home. He’d already left a note here explaining that he was over at Gabby’s, drinking with some coworkers as part of Sara’s going away party. I didn’t even seriously consider heading over there, though, despite how close it is, mostly because his coworkers are mostly lightweights and I figured the party would be all but dead by now. Which he pretty much confirms by returning here at such an early hour.

He tries to call Melissa, but she doesn’t answer and he leaves a message. Then we decide to head out on foot for Sara’s place, where there might yet still be something of interest. He says that she was pretty wasted for once when she left the bar, and is probably asleep, but that there are allegedly other girls staying there. So we figure it’s worth our walk to find out.

Upon arriving there and knocking, no one answers at first. So then Damon starts whispering tuants through the mail slot, trying to stir someone to life in there. Finally, there’s a bit of shuffling on the other side…but then it’s
just some Matt character coming to the door. He looks to be in his mid 30s, vaguely athletic while at the same time vaguely a partier. Having let us it, he retreats to the couch he’d apparently just been sacked out on, in front of a M*A*S*H rerun on the TV.

And there’s no one else around. We exchange a few words with him, but he doesn’t know anything, seems possibly half out of it to boot. So we start for the door, except just then, a nice looking, shapely blonde in her early 30s comes down the stairs, throws her arms around Damon.  This would be Sara’s younger sister, one he says he feels might be attainable, despite the fact that she is married. We stand and talk to her for about ten minutes. Then I’m tapping my now empty beer bottle and we tell her we clearly must be off to our next destination.

May 17

Damon was planning on coming over after work, and does just that, stopping by around 5 or so. We lounge around watching TV for a few hours until inspiration strikes, of a sort. His Melissa chick had left a message eaerlier
in the day, so he calls her back and she agrees to come over. Then is here what seems like a handful of minutes later, somehow, during which time we’ve budged not an inch from our semi-comatose, afternoon nap type stupors on the couches. Then he somehow rustles up the energy to go take a shower – which he hates – while I hang and talk with her, in the name of being an agreeable host.

When he returns, the three of us attempt to hatch some battle plans. “What are we gonna do?” Damon ponders.

“Round someone else up and play cards,” I suggest, when nothing else sounds appetizing.

“Is that what we’re gonna do, then? You think you get someone over here?” he says.

“Yeah, I’ll call ol’ girl up,” I say with a nod.

We walk up to the convenience store and grab a twelve of Labatts, a twelve of Bud Light. Then upon returning, I pick up the phone to call Heather. She left a message clear back on Friday which I’ve still not responded to, though attempting to talk my way through that omission now.

“I know you called last weekend…,” I start.

“I call every weekend!” she protests.

“Now why is that?” I ask, toying with her.

“I don’t know,” she says.

She says she’s sick now, however, and might be. But still, you don’t want to get too cute with this stuff, there’s a fine line in being just distant enough yet not too distant. So I hope I haven’t blown it, although then again we do
have concert tickets for Dave next month, as a failsafe of sorts. Concerning tonight, though, I have to figure something else out. And I hate being the one initiating a phone call with chicks. I don’t know what the deal is, it’s just the total antithesis of my style and doesn’t feel right, somehow.

But I force myself to trudge onward anyway, calling Jill and then Connie, neither of which are around. In the end I’m even trying to reach random friends, to locate a fourth person for euchre, like Clif, and then seeing who might be around over at Maria’s house. Nobody is available on this otherwise dull Wednesday night, however. It’s all very mysterious. So in the end we just sit around drinking beer and watching movies.

May 18

As for me, I’m feeling like I need to shake things up, try to get into something new. Or maybe just reintroduce something old, which I just haven’t done for awhile. In this spirit, a highly unusual and unexpected, motley group of us end up playing cards over at Maria’s house. My end of the bargain is to pick up Clif Davis, so I swing by to get him. He currently has, as he describes it, his “high ass Uncle Larry” living with him now, whom I get to meet for the first time. He does seem like a nice guy but probably a little shady. Then we’re getting ready to leave and I feel like Larry’s looking at us, as though wanting an invite to come along, so I ask, “you staying here?” But he mutters something about staying here and Clif says, decisively, “we’re going out tomorrow night,” as we split. Then outside, Clif berates me, saying do not under any circumstances invite that dude to hang out with us. I’m laughing but tell him I got the memo, now.

We ride over to Maria’s, but Jason’s the only one here at the moment. Tommy went downtown to watch The Menus play the Brewery District Pavilion (AKA “The Patio”) and the other roommates have yet to get home from whatever else they’re doing. But down at Andrea’s apartment on campus, she’s been entertaining Jamie and Chris B, and that unprecedented trio agrees to ride up here. I make a comment that, knowing Jamie, it’s likely they will never show up. But then, with the dining room screen door open, we eventually hear some stumbling around outside. Jamie at the very least should know which apartment this is, but he’s lost. Everyone shouts, “in here!” and they finally figure out where we’re at.

At my behest, we get a game of Beer Tree going, introductions are handed out for various parties which might not know one another. Chris briefly worked at Kroger as a bagger, and his dad, this long haired middle aged guy also named Cliff,  is currently employed at Bethel Road as a midnight shift cashier. He seems pretty cool and is extremely talkative, but I don’t know him or his son all that well.

Ryan shows up with his new girlfriend, Claire, but they head straight up to his bedroom, done for the night. Maria says she doesn’t get along with Claire, has some vaguely b.s. sounding reason to offer – I wonder if these girls ever look at their lives and recognize a certain pattern to these things, that every single girl turns out to be, in their estimation, either a “bitch” or a “slut” or both. Is there perhaps a hint of jealously behind this phenomenon? I’m thinking for example that it took Jill and Sharon both exactly one night to conclude they would never come over here again. But then again, on the flipside, Jill has gone on record telling me, “you know I was never a big Maria fan.” Or here’s Tammie’s take on Jill: “she’s a slut.” Here’s Jill’s take on Tammie: “she’s a slut.” Et cetera et cetera. Although Marie does seem to get along with Andrea okay, somehow.

But anyway…Jamie showed up wearing a sizeable bandage on one hand. He’d gotten pissed off at Kris K and punched the video drop box at work. Clif Davis here is in a comical mood, he’s got a wisecrack for everything tonight. Since he’s seated near the fridge, someone asks him to get a beer and he says, “damn, what is this, you guys tryin to bring back slavery? I know how it is, you white people see a black guy, you think…,” he mutters, getting up to grab a couple brews.

Jason’s laughing so hard at this that his face is red, and he cries, “I love this guy!” in reference to Clif.

A few of them are passing around this giant skull water bong (I think it’s Tommy’s) filled with weed. Jamie’s cracking me up, getting all sweaty & nervous wondering where it’s at, sometimes, as he’d been focusing on the game while it made its rounds.

Madness ensues…most of them have never played Beer Tree before and don’t know the nuances behind this timeless classic card game. Maria makes this rule that for every drinking rule, you now have to add two drinks to it, so a social would be three, a give five would be seven, and so on. Jamie, predictably enough, misinterprets this, he thinks he’s supposed to add “plus two” to the end of everything he’s saying for the rest of the night. Examples:

“I’m thumbmaster…uh…whenever I put my thumb on the table, the last person to do it has to drink five plus two.”

“You have to drink three plus two.”

“Ah ha! That’s one plus two!”

Then he’s in the process of making another rule, maybe it was the “no D” one (no saying drink, drank, or drunk), which is always popular. At any rate, whatever it is, he’s debating what the penalty will be for breaking it.

“Seven plus two…,” he mumbles, “no, wait, five plus two…”

“Dude,” Chris says, voicing what we’d probably all been thinking for the past half hour, “why don’t you just say seven?”

Though I’ve hung out with Jamie here and there for a couple of years now, this is the first night where I begin to realize just how hilariously strange he is. All night he keeps talking about how he’s thinking of joining the Marines. Then at some point, he realizes he left something in the car, but rather than head out the front door like your typical human being (not that I necessarily know a ton about what’s “normal” myself), he slides out via the screen door, boosts off of an empty keg sitting on the patio, and leaps over the fence that lines it – a fence which stands at least six feet off the ground.

Coming back in, rather than using the front door this time, either (maybe confusion about which door this would be?), he arrives back at the locked patio fence door, which someone has to get up and go out to let him in from. Somewhere in the middle of this mayhem, his bandage has come unraveled.

“See,” Jamie’s mumbling to himself, as he puts the bandage back together, “I could be a Marine.”

Clif leaves, and then later everyone pops over to Kroger at about 4:30am to buy some food. Maria gets some normal breakfast sausage links to fry up and a few others go in together on a frozen pizza. By 5 we’re reassembled again at the apartment, and a couple people get cracking in the kitchen on our improvised communal breakfast. Ryan has about a million magazine subscriptions and I sit reading his Sporting News while talking to their dog, Dakota.

May 22

To Joni’s with Maria. Rainy out, talk to Ryan briefly. Maria and I pick Jason up, head to Elizabeth’s for euchre game.

May 23

Lunch with Donza. Late night at work. Home, then over to Sara’s house, where Damon is crashing for the night. He’s going to be moving in with me soon but for now is still in this mode of staying on someone’s couch if partying down here. Actually, Sara’s sister also offered up her couch to him, and I think he should have gone with that option instead. Drink beer, watch TV and fiddle around on guitar until after 4am.

May 24

Damon runs me home at 7:30 before heading into work himself. I’m off today and sleep in until 11. Run errands, write some, then send my resume to The Other Paper for this position they have posted. Damon stops by at 5, over to Sara’s house again. Then back here, Jackie stops by, talk to Gretchen on the phone for a bit. Jessica comes over, cards, she and Damon head upstairs to fool around.

May 25

Damon and I clear out stuff at about 7:15am or so. He heads into work, then I unexpectedly do too, despite this being my theoretical day off – we had a call out, so I’m drafted to come in anyway.

Home again later, I try to get some actual rest, but extremely loud rap music blasting next door is keeping me awake. I finally just forget it, get up to do dishes and clean the house. Then drive over to Maria’s at 11. We leave Jason there, instead go pick up Stacy, she and I and Maria hit Polo’s. Get beer afterwards at convenience store, return to Maria’s and goof around some there.

Some a-hole actually stole their dog, Dakota, this great big chocolate Lab. And then tortured him in the form of ripping off the pads on the bottom of his feet. This they know because they were with Dakota days ago at that park up the road, he was running around and then just disappeared. And then just magically showed back up here today, at their doorstep, in this condition. So Maria took him to the vet and now the poor guy just sits in the corner, shell shocked.

Anyway, however predictably, Maria and Jason start squabbling. Stacy and I go sit in the car and talk. We would have just left, maybe, except discussions were already underway about all four of us heading over to her place, when this fight erupted. So we just wait them out. She’s working at Worthington Inn and has been there for quite some time. Then finally, these other two do finally emerge, we ride over to her house, play Yahtzee, wrestle with her pets and drink beer until about 5am.

May 28

I work 13 hours, between Bethel Road and then over at Worthington Mall. Come home, make pizza, sleep.

May 29

After work, I fly home, shower, change, then bust ass back across town to Maria’s house for quite the impromptu gathering – Lisa, Damon, Miles, Jamie, Roy, Mike Nelson, Maria, Jason, Tommy, and Jen Freeland are all here. We’re up until about 4:30am. Tommy and I somehow end up as a force to reckon with in euchre – win 4 out of 5 games (two against Jen & Jamie, three against Jen & Jason). Crash there of course.

May 30

I’m awake at 6:30, drive Jason home and then head up to the Dublin store to open. Word is definitely out on the streets that I will basically never turn down the overtime anywhere and that I must do a pretty good job. Some wires got crossed, however, when they asked me to fill in over here. I had just assumed they meant open seafood, but it turns out they don’t have any meat cutters today and they wanted me in this role. Otherwise it’s just this one wrapper chick, until the second wave comes in.

I don’t say anything about it, though, just go right along with the flow. Though I’ve gone through the meat cutting course and gotten certification, and cut some here and there after that, this is a first, where I’m expected to do all the cutting for the entire department today. And even what experience I’ve had was mostly six months and more ago. So I consider this a great test to see whether I know what I’m doing or not.

And it goes extremely well. This girl gives me an ongoing list of everything that’s needed, wraps the stuff and takes it out, waits the counter. All I have to do is keep cranking this stuff out. Near the end of our shift, once the list has been knocked out, I confess to her that I’ve never actually done this before and thought I was working seafood today.

She laughs and says that I must know what I’m doing. “Everything looked fine and I didn’t have to ask what anything was, so…,” she adds with a chuckle. So it’s all gravy. I was able to keep up speed wise and none of the cuts were wrong.

The nice thing about coming in so early is that I’m out at 2:45. Feeling kind of on fire today, I call Stacy and we plot out our date for Thursday. Also prepare this piece for Angsto’s new magazine.

June 1

I mail that piece in for Angsto’s magazine. Morse Road has no salmon. Work early, then clean out car, home to get ready, then over to Stacy’s. We take her car anyway, up to the Olive Garden on Sawmill. She has dressed up nicely for the occasion. Back to her house afterwards. We walk around her neighborhood and talk for a bit. Stacy’s asking me about getting together tomorrow night and Saturday night. So this is already turning into what I kind of hate about starting up something like this. I manage to be noncommittal on that front while keeping these options open.

June 3

Opening at Bethel, then I slide over to Henderson Road to close. After this I come home. Stacy has left a message but I don’t call her.

June 4

A virtual repeat of yesterday: after opening at Bethel, I slide over to Henderson Road at 4. Come home and finally get back with Stacy.

June 7

After leaving Bethel at 4, I drive over to Worthington Mall. Chill out in the bookstore there, then work 5 to 9 closing down meat shop at that Kroger. Home, write, somehow fall asleep in bed with the downstairs TV still on at about 1am.

June 8

Wait until around 6:30 to call Stacy, head over to her place at about quarter till 8. A couple people she knows stop by at one point, the girl is a skydiving instructor. When I casually mention wanting to skydive someday, she smirks and smugly declares, “that’s what everyone says.” I guess it is mighty rarified air she’s breathing up there. Although the first example encountered already counterfeits that comment, because I’m not even all that interested, truth be known. I was just making conversation. The guy meanwhile tours this two story apartment by himself, so I guess he hasn’t been here before.

Maria and Clif both leave messages on my machine, I will later discover, are unsure about my whereabouts. Clif’s was especially funny, as he says, “I saw on the caller ID that you called, but you didn’t leave a message. What’s up with that, player?”

June 9

Maria calls me at work, to say she and Bridgette are catching a 10 o’clock flight. They are heading to Chicago to visit Lisa, of course, and I tell her I’m jealous, quite truthfully. Things are getting somewhat stale around here. Even last night at Stacy’s was relatively dull, truth be known, and her condescending chums were icing on the cake. I can’t decide if working mountains of overtime is bad, because it’s keeping me from maybe branching out more in my free time, or if it’s good for occupying me in what might just be a really boring stretch anyway. Although I suppose if you can’t decide, you might as well just take the hours and the money. I guess it’s funny too that I would say this yet resist Stacy’s efforts to get together more often. But it’s like I just can’t bring myself to spend more than maybe one night a week with some chick right now, whoever she is.

June 10

After my own shift ends at Bethel, I goof off in Barnes & Noble for awhile, then report to Henderson Rd.

June 11

Following a comical day at Bethel, I’m over at Henderson again for the real gut buster. 

I stop for gas at Super America on my way home. It’s weird, but just a couple hours ago, I was doing dishes there at the store and my mind was just kind of randomly wandering over past employees and other stuff. Somewhere along the line I remembered that somewhat strange Steven character who used to be a cashier at Bethel, was there from the beginning, and wondered whatever became of that guy. It just occurred to me then that he must have left quite some time ago, because I haven’t spotted the dude since returning to Bethel.

So anyway I’m attempting to get some gas and the attendant says, “pump one is debit card or pre pay at all times,” over the intercom. I curse, “goddammit!” to myself and march toward the building. Then look up – and it’s him! He’s working the booth at Super America! I curse some more, under my breath, thrust three dollars at him, and march back to my car. Totally hilarious, and almost too surreal to even believe.

I guess my take on weird coincidences like this, though, is that they are bound to occur every once in a great while. But they don’t happen “all the time” as some would say. We have thousands of little moments day in and day out that were totally coincidence-free.

Anyway, it’s a boring night from here. Then again what else might one expect after working open to close and then coming home late on a Sunday night. Actually, Jamie was talking about having some people over, but to be honest despite the overtime I’m kind of strapped for cash at the moment. It’s more that reason than even tiredness that I decide to just stay in tonight.

June 13

Spend this morning working my store, then 5 to 9 at Worthington Square. Stop at Meijer for supplies (sometimes even I can’t bear to shop the grocery store I have just clocked out of, have to just get out of there), then Heather comes over. Damon is down here as well.

June 14

Upon leaving Bethel, I work 5 to 9 at Worthington Square again. Back home, Heather calls, says she wants to bring me over another fresh batch of her famous spaghetti. But by this point I already have plans to head over to Maria’s house and play cards. She could come, of course, yet isn’t exactly clamoring for inclusion. I think girls in general just loathe hanging out at some other random chick’s house. Also, I know a lot of my friends think I’m insane, but I just can’t bring myself to spend this much time with someone right now. It’s not only something I’m not interested in, but it would send the wrong message even if I was. So I don’t exactly push the issue. I’m not canceling now on her behalf, from this last minute, out of the blue phone call, to hang out here instead.

Anyway, with her out of the picture, I head over to Maria’s. Of course this is a flipside of a different coin, because although admittedly weird, I wouldn’t consider myself crazy. So it’s all a matter of degrees and maybe by comparison, I guess Heather and me are relatively normal. You never quite know what to expect showing up at this madhouse from one night to the next. Clif had the right idea in declining his invitation. Jacob’s here, but Elizabeth and Clay both left already due to some big fight with Maria. Tommy and Ryan show up, mercifully, but Ryan immediately heads upstairs to bed. This was a major dud and I just go home, regretting some of my choices tonight. Maybe sometimes when life shows you an obvious escape hatch, you should just take it.

June 15

Run to pick up my check, am talking to Nick at the front desk about Kiss. He’s a known huge fan of those dudes. A day off – sort of – and I have a ton of stuff to knock out. Make oil change appointment, then drive out to east side BMV, but discover upon arriving there that their computers are down. Come home and discover that my one bad tire is hissing, it is now flat. Look up tire dealers and find a used one on Cleveland, try to make it over there, but can’t – have to jack car up & put on spare in a strip mall parking lot, then drive rest of the way over there. Back at the house, I now make a tune-up appointment as well.

Work 5 to 9 at Worthington Mall again. In meat tonight, John is in seafood. Boring night at home afterwards. Damon isn’t around and no one calls. I debate calling up someone myself and trying to get into something, but then get caught up in writing and wind up staying home.

June 16

I put in 12 hours total – 8 to 4 at my store and 5 to 9 at Henderson, with just a McDonald’s lunch in between. Come home eat dinner and die.

June 17

Wake up 9 minutes early (7:27 instead of hitting snooze one more time to reach 7:36), which winds up being an unexpectedly good thing – on the way to work, I end up blowing out the used front tire I just bought two days ago. So that’s the risk you take. Those usually turn out okay but there are no guarantees. Cursing, I am forced to change this tire in the rain, in front of this shop on High. Adrenaline coursing through me as I rush through this, so as not to be late, I overexert myself getting the the lug nuts off (too tight) and only after making it to work (barely on time) do I realize how badly my left arm hurts.

Come home after work (sunny out), Heather had left a message. I call her, make plans to meet at her place at 9. Crash on couch watching Reds/Padres game, for a couple hours there. Shower, am wolfing down a microwave pizza around 8:30 when Heather calls. She and her friend Robyn are bored and want to come get me right now instead. So they swing by to pick me up and we head out for some drinks.

June 18

After working late, I come home exhausted, knowing I’ve got to turn around and go in at 6am tomorrow. I do find time to call Damon, though, talk to him about potentially dating Heather’s friend Robyn.

June 19

After work I hit BMV, then run down to the usual tire place I like on Parsons. Stop at Big Bear to pay electric bill. Damon comes home, we walk to buy beer & toilet paper. He’s fully moved in now. And that didn’t take long on the Robyn front – after I got her number and gave it to him, they made plans for a date already! I stay home tonight, typing and listening to Indians game on radio.

June 20

I have no idea what happened for much of this night and suspect that I never will. Heather’s responses to this question have been playful, cryptic, but only semi-informative. The concert itself is awesome, I have to say, which shocks me as much as it does her – she was only a casual fan before and I even less than that. It’s after the show ends that things begin to get extremely murky for me.

After taking an afternoon nap, I cruise over to her place at 5. The girls are still getting ready, but it seems they’ve already fired up the White Russian mixing train, and I’m offered one as well. Therefore am all but required to partake. Sit around hanging out with Jeremy in the living room, where Stephanie’s little brother and sister are also here, watching Ghostbusters. Some Steve guy stops by on a motorcycle briefly. He leaves, they order pizza for these kids. Then Jeremy, Stephanie, Heather, and I take off for the show.

We’re listening to Allman Bros and CCR during the ride up to Polaris. Upon entering the place, though I think the opening acts have already started, there are tons of people still tailgating anyway. We make a bunch of wisecracks because you can actually tell from far away that some of these dudes are telling war stories about past shows they’ve seen, and I joke that there’s nothing more obnoxious than hearing old tales about past concerts witnessed.

Jeremy laughs and agrees, then points to this tailgate of bros we are passing, one guy in particular who’s talking right now. Then begins riffing on what this guy is probably saying: “Dude, I saw David Lee Roth in 1984, on his THIRD TO LAST show with Van Halen!”

There are also some pointed observations about people cranking DMB in the parking lot, from our collective peanut gallery, even though we’re about to see the guy. But anyway, since nobody seems eager to see the opening acts – Michelle N’Dgeochello (had to look that one up) and Ben Harper (on the side stage), I’m not pressing the issue, either. We will spend a great deal of time in the parking lot, sitting in the grass, even, drinking these White Russians that they continue mixing. Jeremy makes friends with strangers.

But yeah, as far as Dave, I get it after seeing him now (as trite a cliche as that is to say about certain acts) and am totally won over. He closes with Watchtower. About halfway through the show, though, Jeremy passes out cold, which Heather and Stephanie giggle about and attribute to “his cold medicine.” Even at the time I found it a suspicious comment, though, and will later have additional reasons to wonder about it.

Because, simply put, most of our post-concert activities are a total blur to me, even though I’m not really drinking. I remember we stopped for gas somewhere I think on Worthington Galena Road, but then it’s a blank again until we’re pulling up to and going inside this Larry B’s bar. Things are slightly more coherent here. I recall Heather went up to the bar and ordered us both a beer, returned with these, that we all split a pizza and there was also some argument about the Beatles.

But that’s all I’ve got. I know for a fact I only had that one cheap beer at the bar, and nothing afterwards. Next thing I know there’s this brief image of me on her living room floor, sprawled out on my belly, everyone else watching TV, Steph’s two little siblings running around like maniacs for some reason, and some other guy I’ve not seen before is here now hanging out with them. After that, I’ve got nothing to report until 5am, when I wake up in Heather’s waterbed, no idea what might have happened in between. She’s in the attached bathroom washing her hands incessantly for some reason, or at least this is what it sounds like to me. Then I pass back out again.

June 21

I wake up at 7 with a pounding head, am quite obviously the only stirring creature at this hour apart from the dog. Very mysteriously, though flipping Heather’s bedroom and then the rest of the house upside down, I can only find one sandal. And therefore stroll out into the already blinding sun wearing it.

Stop at home to change, then continue in to work at 8, come home and crash a very long time without intending to afterwards. In the process I miss this rare Bedlam show here in town, at the Ramada on Morse/Sinclair. Heather calls to say she found my other shoe. Then Damon and Brian make it in from their show, having already planned on crashing here tonight, wasted but pumped. It seems Brian’s been reinstated, after the brief fling with Drew Bernstein, and this short experiment with Big Paul as front man while Radick switched to bass.

This gig was some work party, for Damon’s place of employment. They have all of the equipment, so as the three of us take multiple trips carrying it into the house, they’re telling me all about it. Brian almost hooked up with some older lady at the party, but “the friends” interfered, some of the chicks Damon works with sabotaging his efforts.

These two heat up some White Castle offerings in our freezer, I make ramen noodles with tabasco for myself. We sit around at the kitchen table, eating this and drinking Southpaw Light, trying to brainstorm on a new name for
Bedlam. There was a band in like the 70s or something with that name, which they’ve known for years, and various attempts have been made at using something else now and then, but nothing has really stuck.

Brian’s suggestions: Pity Armsweat, Mirror Image

Damon’s: Free Steak Dinner, Male Revue (both old ones he’s always been fond of, and tried to get the others interested in for years), and then a hilarious new suggestion, Pap Smear Blue Ribbon

Mine: (I have a list of cool band names, but damned if I’m divulging any serious ideas to anyone) improvising in the moment right now, I suggest Piece O’ Ass, also What Am I A Fucking Clown

June 22

All 3 of us are up early. Damon heads to work, Brian loads out drums and splits. Then I drive to work myself. Come home, fall asleep on couch. Heather was supposed to come over but calls to cancel, we decide to see a movie tomorrow instead. Then I cruise past Long John Silver’s and Max & Erma’s, both look really crowded for some reason, decide I’m too hungry to wait and settle on freaking Burger King for dinner. What can you do.

June 23

Awkward encounter in the Friday’s parking lot – heading back to my car after dinner, unexpectedly bump into Jill and her new guy (Ty) just getting out of theirs. Attempt saying what’s up but those two literally don’t speak, just nod and keep going. Jill’s making this weird smile, like someone about to say, “really?” as though I somehow magically knew they were going to be here and orchestrated this big surprise meeting or something.

June 24

Shift at work, followed by trip to Dave & Buster’s, etc.

June 25

Shift at work. Then I swing through McD’s on Bethel, before reporting at Worthington Square for agreed upon 4:30 to 9:30 shift closing seafood. Before he leaves, John tells me this hilarious story about poor Martha, how she’d gotten a hole in one pants pocket and then walked around for half an hour, looking for her keys. Until Tim Patton, when he still worked here, suggested, “hey Martha, did you look in your other pocket?” And there they were.

When I first met John Ivanovich (he manages this seafood shop), I thought maybe he was really anal about things back here. But now the more I get to know him, he reminds me instead of this grown up version of Matt Wackerly, as in really funny, with a bunch of twitchy, nervous energy. But smart, and doing a great job all the same. Case in point, he tells me before going home that there’s a bag of shrimp thawing out if I have time to make rings, but adds, in all seriousness, “you don’t have to go hogwild or anything,” says just make what I can. Well, that’s not exactly a problem in this joint – except when the shrimp thaw out, the entire contents of the bag net me exactly enough make a whopping 2 rings. I guess you could say going “hogwild” was not an issue.

Or like the time a couple of weeks ago, when I was filling in over here, where he’s explaining in depth his first concert ever. He says he saw Van Halen back in, like, ’82, at the Cow Palace in San Francisco. Then literally demonstrating for me how David Lee Roth liked to jump up in the air and do splits. Back here in this tiny seafood department with its possibly wet and slippery floor. Talk about hilarious. Hell of a nice guy, though, he’s really cool.

Come home and fall asleep watching an X-Files rerun. Everyone wants to know how I can go & go like this, and I just don’t know. Jamie told me earlier he was trying to keep up with me, and it was killing him. Although he
did admit that only the first 15 minutes in the morning are bad, and if you can plow through this, then he agrees it’s not too horrible afterwards. I think it’s just a case of me having tons of interests, but not enough time to cram them all in. Plus determined to get ahead and stockpile money, though frustrated because these stupid jobs eat up a good 1/3 of my time, and there’s still not enough dough to go around, somehow. But yes, Maria’s cookout today, which I’m sure was still going strong at 9:30, is totally out of the question. Even I have my limits.

June 26

Come home after my shift at work. Damon moves more stuff in. He and I are sitting around listening to a bunch of vinyl albums, like Frank Zappa’s Lumpy Gravy, when Heather swings by. She comes bearing gifts. I would say she’s also giving us these curious, smiling looks, like someone wondering, “what the hell is going on around this place?” And it must be said acting kind of flirty with Damon, probably because he managed to bang Robyn the other night – she was just over at Robyn’s place for a cookout, therefore surely got the complete lowdown. So yeah he’s now getting the impressed, “you da man,” type treatment from her, for hooking up with her friend.

June 27

Start out the morning by driving to BMV on east side to get my license reinstated (busted for having no insurance). Then stop at the license agency on Morse, but make it all the way up to the counter before they tell me I need my birth certificate. Run home to get it real quick, and the lady had told me I could just come back up to her window when I return, no need to wait in line. So I did, then it turns out she didn’t need my birth certificate anyway – was unaware I still had my old license on me. Get that squared away, this time my picture comes out looking hilariously indifferent (funny how they change so wildly from one occasion to the next – previous ones have ranged from a goofy dweeb to appearing almost Mexican)(and it is kind of curious how this can still establish your identity anyway, with such wild swings, what this could ever possibly prove about anyone.)

Damon and Paul talk me into going to the Allman Brothers concert with them, at Polaris. They show up at my place, we ride out to pick up Doug. He lives in this really nice house right on the shore of Hoover Reservoir, he’s really got it made these days. Hot Tuna opens, we meet this cute Latino girl named Shafa, also bump into Brian Tabor & his woman and hang out with them on the lawn. Then Damon gets bored, suggests he and I try and sneak down closer. We notice one of the security guards blocking a pavilion section is distracted flirting with a couple girls, and breeze right on past him, wind up in the 9th row. I unexpectedly encounter Nicole down here, along with one of her chick friends, first I’ve seen of her in a couple years.

After the show we drop Doug off, slide through Wendy’s for some grub, and make it down to campus in time to polish off 3 pitchers at Panini’s. To bed around 3am.

June 28

And then up for work at 7. Maria swings through very early, talks to Miles, Jamie, and me about having some people over later. Jamie complains that she “wants you to come over all the time,” and while she and her friends are great and all, that pace does get to be a little too maniacal to keep up with after awhile. Or you just get burned out, I don’t know. Anyway she calls, too, after I get home, but I remain noncommital.

I make a homemade pizza and burn it to smithereens, then start over with a second one that turns out better. Damon is starving and rehearts some alfredo noodles he had leftover from lunch, while we wait. Later, he has Robyn over, so I figure it might be good to split for awhile. Only problem is, I don’t really feel like dealing with Maria’s outrageous crew tonight, and there’s not much else going on. Kicking it with Heather probably is an option, but I’m in one of these moods where I’d rather just go somewhere and hang out by myself for a change. So I shower and get ready, mention possibly going to Maria’s, but leave the house without intending to do so.

Just driving at random I remember this poetry night I’ve been meaning to check out, and head in that direction. Then begin to wonder about my finances, pull off at an ATM to check. It turns out this situation is even more dire than I realized, despite the mad overtime I’ve been working, and decide to forget doing anything. Instead spend a bunch of time reading stuff at Half Price Books on Bethel before turning around and coming home. It was a dud night, but sometimes dud nights are perfectly acceptable.

June 29

Paycheck. Car registration. McDonald’s. Laundry. Then I meet Miles, Tammie, and Bob down at B. Hampton’s for happy hour. The four of us spend most of this outing playing pool. At one point, off to the side, I can hear Tammie explaining to Bob who Jill is, that I have been off and on with her for years. “She’s a slut,” Tammie only half-whispers. Not the first time she has said this, of course, and it’s pretty much all that either says about the other. I remember one time Tammie was soon to be in between apartments and asked me if she could stay with us for a week or so – Jill just about flipped her lid when I posed that question. Even though they’re ostensibly semi-friendly at work.

I’m having an uncharacteristically decent day at the pool table, Miles and me against those two. “Damn Pockets, I didn’t know you was a smooth operator!” Miles says of my shooting.

“I’m really not,” I tell him with a laugh.

Then later, I’m back over at Maria’s for this card game. It’s her, Jen F, Jen M, Elizabeth, some Mike dude, Jacob, Clay, me, then Tommy and Ryan later on.

July 1

After a brutal day at work, I come home, find the Reds game on TV, and nap on the couch. Left a message at Heather’s before doing so, and she calls back around 7:30. Cookout at Elizabeth’s house.

July 2

Following a morning shift at my store, I work 5 to 9 at Worthington Square, in the meat department this time with Mike Mansfield. He’s telling me this hilarious story about Martha not knowing what some seafood salad in the service case was, therefore guessing it to be “spaghetti and onions.” Then decides to call over and talk to Ryan, who of course used to be here. Mike leaves at 7, I close down meat alone.

July 4

Maria wakes me up for work at 7:30am. Come home afterwards and sleep, then get ready for drive up to visit the family peeps.

July 5

Off except 5-9 at Worthington. Damon is down with more stuff. Later, he scoops up Heather’s friend Robyn, Elephant Bar, etc.

July 6

After I get home from work, around 8 or so, Damon and Paul return to the house – they’d been playing golf. The three of us hit Panini’s.

July 7

After work, I drive over to the Worthington Square store, where I’m meeting some fellow employees, we’re driving down to Cincy for the Reds-Indians game. En route to that store, I suffer another blown out tire. But still get here in time. It’s Mike Mansfield, John Ivanovich, Tim Patton, me, and our Laura’s Lean beef rep, Jeff Lykens, who is a pretty cool guy and really hilarious on top of it.

We get back into town late and I don’t make it home until 2am.

July 8

work, then I come home. Damon is cleaning. Watch Reds/Indians game on TV, lounge around. Then to Maria’s party with Gretchen.

July 9

Work, then Paul picks me up for the Roger Waters show. We are back to Columbus by 1:30 and manage to hit Gabby’s for 2 beers apiece.

July 11

work, all star game, Brooke again, Ruby’s.

July 12

I ask Gretchen if she might like to go out on a date for real, but she shoots me down, on the grounds that (it’s a long story) she believes that I am married. Related to some womanizing shenanigans a few of us have been engaged in, which I will explain better at a later date.

July 13

Matthew Sweet. After work Damon and I meet Doug there, as well as Leah and a couple other chicks she knows (one of which, unfortunately, looks like Paul Stanley). We have three beers at this show. Walking back to the car afterwards, we take a leak in some ground floor apartment that is still under construction. I kind of wish I would have noted exactly where this was at the time, because that would be really hilarious to know at this point.

Then we connect with Radick, and it’s still early enough for us to enjoy a full night out on campus. We meet up with Melissa and Ann down at Panini’s. Everyone’s sitting around drinking pitchers of beer on the patio.

July 14

Following a somewhat brutal shift at work, I come home, crash for hours on the couch. Two separate hellish rainstorms blow through town, with a tornado siren (false alarm) even going off during the first of these.

July 15

Work, goof around at home. Bill Knapp’s alone for dinner, then to Arlington Cafe with Clif and Shekhar.

July 17

After work, I come home, chill, nap on couch. Damon gets in, we go pick up the brown couch and bring it here, rearrange living room. He and I try to hit poetry night (but they’re not having it today – possibly on account of it being summer break?), then instead we go see X-Men at Lennox. Eat at Tee Jaye’s before returning home around 12:30.

July 20

I have an actual total day off, it’s sunny but slightly cool. I get up around 11, listen to sports radio and write. Then decide it would be a good day to hit the beach at Alum Creek for I think just the second time this summer. Damon works up right by there, so I call him and we make plans to meet for a late lunch first. He also wants to check out the girls at the beach for a minute.

While away, Sarah and Tammie have both left messages trying to call me in to work today. No dice. Home I sleep from 3 until maybe 4:30, then drive out to Bogey Inn, meet up with Miles, Tammie too in fact, Kris Kammerad, his roommates, then Erin and her sister show up. Monte and Dan from Sawmill Road are here as well. Happy hour beers and food inside at the bar, then listening to band out on patio.

Lisa’s in town so I call over there from a payphone. Ryan answers, says everyone else is at Shooters already. I talk to Damon later and try to get him to come out, but he says he’s feeling sick and will just stay home tonight.

July 21

Stuck unexpectedly working late, have to skip happy hour. Afterwards Jamie and Mike swing through the store, invite me to some party at Chris’s that they are heading to. I say maybe but have no intentions of going.

July 22

Everyone says it was a wild party, though. I’m talking to Jamie this morning on break, out at the picnic table, and he admits being the first one to pass out. As far as tonight, Clif left a message last night, so he’s looking to get into something. Plus Lisa’s still in town so there is this to consider as well. Out running errands on lunch, I actually run into Maria, at the light at Dierker & Bethel. This is turning into quite the meeting spot. Anyway we’re shouting across open windows and I agree to pop over there after getting off work, whenever that is. Then she winds up coming into the store later anyway.

I unexpectedly get off work at 7pm (how sad is that), buy some razors and shave in the men’s room. On break earlier I talked to Clif and he agreed to meet me over at Maria’s. So now I drive across the street to see what’s happening over there and hatch some definite plans.

Debate is split about 50/50 as far as what to get into. Further complicated in that Lisa’s on her high horse going on about some keg party she’s allegedly invited to, but the rest of us are not. “Where’s the love?” I ask her with a laugh. Otherwise, it’s just Maria, Clay, and Chris Benetrix sitting here, chiling out. Chris recently got a job as barback at Shooters, and has to go in soon for a 9pm-3am shift. Tommy and Ryan have gone back to Toronto for some softball tournament, and nobody else has shown up yet. There’s talk about maybe hitting the Jazz & Ribs fest downtown. Then Lisa, possibly seeing that nobody really cares about this west side keg party, starts tossing out what we might call “invites.” Clay’s on the fence about this, however, would still rather hit the festival. This is when Lisa asks him why he isn’t attempting to put the moves on Bridgette.

“She’d fuck anything,” Lisa concludes.

Meanwhile, Clay is attempting to analyze my sleep patterns, vaguely in the tone of voice one might expect from some college professor with a pipe in his mouth, a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows. It all starts when somebody else once again refers to me as a vampire.

“He’s not a vampire, he’s got insomnia. It’s mentally originated,” Clay declares.

“It’s lifestyle originated,” I correct.

“That too,” he agrees.

Jamie calls, says he is “tripping balls” and asking who else might want some acid ($4 per hit). Clay and Chris both say they are interested. So now a plan is hatched. I still have to go pick up Clif, then we will continue down to the Jazz & Ribs fest. Except Chris is leaving for work, Maria & Clay are driving over to buy the acid and then are planning to meet the rest of us downtown.

Downtown for the festival. Insane crowds, ribs, we run into the other Cliff and his crazy (ex?) girlfriend Jeannie. She talks my ear off while he and his buddy run to get more beer. Clif Davis I recall buys what are called “rib-bins” from some PA vendor, not a local one. There are trophies on display everywhere, so apparently this event is a big deal in these circles. Los Lobos is the headlining act tonight, otherwise I think it was all Columbus musicians playing.

Clif is telling some crazy story about trying to steal a toilet from a prison. “Burn my goddamn mouf off” incident at Wendy’s. After leaving the festival (it ends at 11), we make a pit stop at Arlington Cafe, drink rum and Cokes (Clif D has Long Island Iced Tea instead), play some pool. Then continue onward back to Maria’s place.

Clay gets pissed off at Clif and Shekhar. This is before the acid, which he just now took, kicks in. Maria makes a run to get more booze and beer (I have brought in an 11 pack). Jamie is with us and says he’s actually taken 6 hits – I don’t know enough about this to say whether this is b.s. or not. Whatever the case, he cracks me up by calling Maria and asking if she can pick up some Sunny Delight orange juice while she’s out. Jacob is here briefly, along with Jessica (huge blonde with a pretty face).

Later, Jamie and Clay leave to buy more acid. Then mysteriously return with Jamie’s neighbor Chris S in tow. Meanwhile, Chris B, who was supposed to swing by to pick up his acid after work, never shows. Those of us who are not doing drugs (well, and even those who are, to some extent) sit watching 8mm, then some war movie. Jamie and his neighbor leave around 4:30am.

July 23

Up at 7:45am, contact lenses blurry. Make my way outside, change into work clothes in the parking lot, then zip across the street to clock in.

After my shift there, I head over to the Worthington Galena Rd store, work 4:30 to 8:30 there. So that makes 12 hours today, 11 yesterday, and 14 on Friday for 37 hours this weekend alone. Totally insane. A lot of that is overtime, too, of course. And this last one after approximately 3 hours of sleep. Maybe I am a vampire, but I mostly feel like a robot, this automaton that just keeps going and going.

Boring store, though, this Worthington Galena. Their phones line are numbered strangely, too – instead of 1, 2, 3, and 4 like everywhere else, here they are 10, 11, 15, and 21. Denver tries explaining to me why this is, but of course after listening to him, I’m even more confused than before. He has his own fish to fry, however, telling me that an eviction notice has been posted at his Continent apartment. So I guess this means he and his roommates have 3 days to leave.

“Three days to party,” he corrects.

This attitude may in part explain the eviction notice. Also quite illustrative is this story he’s telling me, about one such party, where some guy was thrown through his living room wall.

Last night Lisa asked me to come over again today for some cookout. Plus Maria called me earlier to mention the same. But I’m too exhausted for that now, plus kind of think that Lisa has gotten a major attitude somewhere along the line and I don’t really want to deal with that tonight, either. Instead I eat dinner at McD’s, come home to write this report.

July 25

It’s a hot, sunny day and I get up at 8:15, decide to go get my muffler fixed. Only drive about halfway there, though, decide screw that. Pay the electric bill, grab some fast food breakfast, and go home to sleep some more instead.

In to work at 2. Off at 9:30, change clothes in parking lot, drive up the road to Maria’s. Well, in fact, with a quick drive up Bethel first instead – drive through Burger King for dinner, pick up a 12 pack at Big Bear, also can’t exactly avoid dipping into Half Price Books for a second since it is right here. When I get over there, though, Elizabeth, Clay, Jamie, Jason, and Maria are hanging out.

Now that I’m here, some of us start a euchre game. Clay, Jamie, and Jason fire up and take turns on this big skull shaped water bong. Clay leaves. And in fact the euchre game is turning into an arduous ordeal, mostly due to the fact that Maria & Jamie had been up at Joni’s for Sink Or Swim earlier. Whew. Maybe it’s a good thing I worked the late shift today. Jamie for example is already about half comatose.

Jason’s spinning one rap CD after another on their living room stereo. “After this comes Red Man & Method Man,” he declares at one point.

“No, Silence Man’s up next,” I joke.

“No shit,” Maria agrees.

She & I are partners against the other two, but even so, between her bouncing back & forth on the phone with Lisa, Bridgette, and Jacob, either she calling them or the other way around, this game grinds to a 5-4 standstill, in favor of them. Lisa’s back in Chicago by now but is going off on Maria about Jason being here, something about Chris B supposedly telling her that Jason was the one who fucked up her car. So Maria actually starts bawling, end of game. I say screw it, forget about the beer I brought even, start mixing myself screwdrivers instead – figure I’ll just tune everyone out. Elizabeth has left, Maria’s still arguing with various individuals on her phone, Jamie with his girlfriend on his.

He starts telling me about how they can never get along, mostly because she’s constantly accuse him of cheating on her. “I’ve only cheated on her with one girl, and I don’t even talk to that girl any more,” he tells me. I wonder if he knows that I know this must be Jill (we’ve never discussed it) – unless of course he’s either full of it and/or forgetting to include her in his tally.

We relocate to the living room to watch TV in the middle of this madness. Somewhere along the line, Damon returns my call, talks to Maria for a second, then gets the lowdown from me. Eventually concludes he’ll probably stay home tonight, as this is in his words, “kind of a long way to be driving for that kind of lady situation.” Meaning that there really aren’t any.

Brady Bunch comes on but it’s just the tail end of an episode. I whistle the closing theme song and for some reason Jason finds this hysterically funny. Meanwhile, Jamie had ordered a pizza from Papa John’s, then passed out before it ever arrived. Jason is trying to talk Maria into smoking weed with him, but instead she plops down on the couch and attempts to wake up Jamie.

“Come on Jamie, you wanna get high?” she shouts, shaking him.

“No, he wants to get low,” I crack, which is something else Jason finds inexplicably hilarious. It must be the weed talking.

All In The Family comes on, but then is preempted as some cryptic message flashes across the screen: THIS WEEKLY WARNING HAS BEEN ISSUED. PLEASE TURN TO CHANNEL 2 FOR DETAILS. Which is apparently an ongoing dilemma with whatever cable service they have.

“I hate that fuckin thing,” Jason curses, “stupid as hell. Then you turn to channel 2, and there’s nothin there.” I laugh, but he picks up the clicker to demonstrate. Flipping to channel 2, there is indeed nothing here but an old Scarecrow And Mrs. King episode.

At around 2am, the pizza man arrives. Problem is, we’d handed ones to Jamie after he placed the order, and he has that money along with his twenty dollar bill in the front pocket of his jeans. Maria attempts rooting in there for the money, as the slumbering Jamie basically represents an uncooperative dead body, until we notice he had actually put the dough on the kitchen table. Then after the guy leaves, the aroma of this pizza suddenly semi-revives Jamie and he gets up.

“Did you give the man a good tip, Jamie?” I joke, as he hadn’t been involved whatsoever in the transaction.

Gnawing on our grub, we’re enthusing about the garlic dipping sauce as only crazed, half starved individuals still awake at two in the morning ever possibly can. Then Jamie proceeds to prompty drop one such cup all over himself, a giant puddle of it on his clothing and the table both. So what does he do but start dipping his bread sticks in it, eacthing the shit off his own clothes. Jason and I both nearly split in half now from laughing so hard.

After this, I attempt to sleep on the other couch, with music videos playing for background noise. This is easy to overlook, but let it be said for the record that…the proximity of this apartment is one huge reason my current lifestyle is even possible. At times it’s been tempting to become a full-blown roommate, to move in when there’s a vacancy, until I conclude that I just couldn’t handle the drama over here. On that note, though Maria and Jason have theoretically gone upstairs to bed, they’re in actuality fighting, she’s crying, they’re kissing, they’re running all over the house. Next thing I know it’s 4am and I’m lightly dozing, but Jason is shaking me awake.

“Come on, man, help me find my bag of weed. I lost it, but I need to find it to prove to Maria I didn’t take it.” Apparently she had co-financed this latest purchase, though almost never smoking any herself, just to appease him. And is angry that’s it’s now come up missing.

July 26

And then I’m up at 6:45am. Bon Jovi’s It’s My Life video is playing on the TV, and I’m thinking that this actually isn’t a bad song. Change clothes in the parking lot and drive over to work.

After finishing my shift there, I drive over to Worthington Galena again, closing once more with Denver. Tonight one of his roommates calls to discuss the eviction situation, but he still doesn’t seem too concerned about it. Is in fact talking about how they still have two days to party. Once again the subject of these wacky phone line numbers comes up – Denver mentions that there used to be a line 17 as well, but they got rid of it. We stand around gabbing & reading magazines, waiting on the odd customer here and there until closing time.

July 27

All we do tonight, however, is meet up with some of Damon’s coworkers at Red Robin.

July 28

After work, I make a couple pit stops for necessities, then arrive home. Doug shows up, Damon and I load our stuff into his vehicle, the three of us head north for the big Lake Erie weekend with everyone. We are getting a later start than the rest of this posse.

August 7

After work, Damon and I hit the state fair on some free passes he’s been given at his own job. Parked in the VIP lot, even. At this one place we order ribeyes & fries – he’s served a hamburger instead (has some weird knack for getting screwed up orders everywhere, I’ve noticed) after waiting forever, but is too hungry to complain. Mostly just wander around checking stuff out, although we do bump into Stephanie Nupen. She’s here with her current dude, however, and doesn’t have much to say.

Later, since I’ve been out of commission for a week and a half, we decide to hit a few bars. They’re probably on the brink of going under without our business for such a long stretch. In all seriousness, though, the ones we check out tonight are mostly oddballs, rarely visited – Bowties, Elephant Bar, Caddo’s, etc. At the cowboy bar, which we do visit quite a bit, I unexpectedly run into Gina, right when we first walk in. She’s inexplicably sitting at one of those “video crack” machines beside those two seats we always claim. I’ve never seen her in here before. She’s with that redheaded Pippi Longstocking looking girl and some other people, they’re over sitting at a table in the middle. Gina acts like she doesn’t remember me, though, which I find impossible to believe. After all I came around quite a bit and eventually wound up sleeping with her roommate like 4-5 times. “She’s trouble,” Gina pointedly tells me, when I “explain” all this to her.

Actually Damon doesn’t even know her, but discovers himself that this is absolutely bullshit. He had gotten up to make the long walk to the men’s room, and then after talking to me a short while, Gina joins her friends at that table. Finally, Damon returns and laughs, asks who that was and what this had been all about. So I give him a quick recap of the backstory.

“Now she’s claiming she doesn’t remember me, which I have a really hard time believing.”

“She remembers,” he says, nodding to confirm this, “I could overhear them talking about it on my way back from the bathroom.” Gina was telling them about some of this stuff and they were cracking up.

August 8

Lunch buffet at the Pizza Hut on 161…work 2 to 10…home to change & eat…over to Maria’s, cards with her, Jason, and Clay as Jamie sleeps on the couch…Circle Of Death, Red Black High Low, Pyramid among the games played, screwdrivers and Coors Light cans the beverages. Mike and Nicole show up briefly. Clay and I make a beer run. But I actually just can’t seem to hang tonight, pass out early myself on the other couch. Then Jamie wakes up and takes great delight in shaking me awake and messing with me for a change, a rare turning of the tables.

August 9

After work, I come home and take a nap until 6:15, then run some errands. Damon and I have one beer at Break-A-Way – he has this old friend named Cricket, recently discovered that she works here. But happens to be off tonight. After this, we instead drive over to Rosie O’Grady’s in the name of some variety. The bartenders here are pretty cool, including this one Michael dude who says he just moved back here from Nashville. So we’re talking about that city for a little while.

August 10

Ryan and Jamie wind up at the latter’s apartment tonight, snorting special K, making a bunch of phone calls. Apparently they were trying to figure out where I was at for some reason, though that scene is about the last thing I would ever be interested in. Maria says they even called her house, asking if I was there.

August 12

Run Jamie home. Then stop by there after work (2 to 9:30 shift), for a few hours – beers, Wendy’s, Holyfield fight. Call Maria’s house, she’s passed out after drinking all day, no Ryan no rave. Come home around 12:15 or so.

August 15

Damon and I go to Alumni Club, Paula & Crystal meet us there, come back to our house.

August 16

I’m working late. Angie comes down, she drives herself, Damon and Paul over to the state fair. Then she drops those two off at the apartment, they cruise down to Panini’s.

Meanwhile, after work, I meet Miles at Ruby Tuesday. There’s this killer band called The Shantee playing, I really dig these cats (for a rundown of the Ruby’s events, please visit that page).

After this, we slide over, meet Damon & Paul at Panini’s. Drinking Molson bottles. Meet interesting traveler guy named Kirk, on bike, who’s just passing through. Giggles dude, lots of hot girls, roast beef & fries. I forget my card here.

August 17

after work, I dive down to Panini’s to pick up my forgetten bank card. Then, since I’m in the neighborhood, hit at least one record store, pick up a used Steely Dan vinyl for $2. Dinner at BW3.

August 18

Shooters with Jamie, Maria, & Ryan. Dane shows up, then Damon (70 wings, 7 rum and cokes later). Damon & I sneak out, don’t say anything to anyone, drive over to Schlotzsky’s to see what Clif and his crew are up to. Nothing much, though we do clown around with them for a little while. Then he and I drive out to Gretchen’s place, somewhat boring night with her and Jen. Back to Maria’s later so I can pick up my car, we bump into her and Jason in the parking lot, she’s cackling and asking what the hell happened to us. Then home, drop off my car.

August 19

After work, I come home, change, order pizza, then stop & pick it up before hitting the highway.

August 20

I get home at noon, sleep for one hour, then go in to work.

August 21

After a grueling day at work, I return home and basically have no energy for anything else but to chill. Damon had been up at Dirty Dungaree’s doing his laundry anyway and is pretty tore up as a result. Alan calls, which is cool, it’s the first time I’ve talked to him since he quit Bedlam back in May.

August 22

Maria keeps calling Jamie and me at work, in her effort to rustle people up for happy hour or beyond. “I wish she’d step off of these nuts,” Jamie jokes. We start off early, with two beers at his apartment this sunny afternoon. Both are in a somewhat giddy mood. He because his on/off again girlfriend actually left him a pleasant message earlier. We decide against hitting Joni’s for Sink Or Swim because, for whatever reason, there usually aren’t a ton of ladies there. I suppose a concept like that does mostly attract your diehard middle aged boozers. So we visit Shooters instead.

Britt is working, she comes up to say hi and is rubbing up against me. You never quite know if you’re just being buttered up for tips, though, so it’s best to play it cool in a situation like this. Plus I feel like most guys would be tripping over themselves and I think there’s value in doing the complete opposite. Therefore proceed slowly. Chris is working, too, he’s asking where I was Friday night at 3am because he stopped by Maria’s after work. I’d totally forgotten about mentioning that to him, the night where Damon and I bailed from here and went over to Gretchen’s.

Jamie and I polish off some wings. He’s drinking beer, I start with rum and Cokes. But soon switch to the 22oz tall boy drafts (still only $1 each) and then the barmaid jokes about cutting Jamie off. At least she seems to be joking. But there’s no need, because he cuts himself off while it’s still daylight. On my way home, I stop by Eldorado’s to see if anything’s happening. Nothing is, so I continue onward. Bump into Damon as he’s heading out the door, and ride over to the Alumni Club with him.

August 23

Leave work, then am so tired coming home I can barely keep my eyes awake. It’s broad daylight but I catch myself twice going left of center on Morse before snapping awake. Whew. Maybe I shouldn’t make fun of Wendy. Crash hardcore & chill out around the house, then head over to Worthington Galena to put in 4 1/2 hours there closing seafood.

John Allen is closing meat – I help him out. He has this unique strategy I’ve never encountered anywhere else, where he comes down to seafood at an earlier hour, we both close that shop, then both head over to meat to shut it down. I think he mostly just likes to socialize non-stop and that it’s also a method that somewhat works to his advantage more than mine (closing meat is more involved). But he’s a nice guy and I guess it does sort of make sense to team up like this.

It’s funny, though, he not only reminds me of my uncle Gary, but of Donnie a little bit too. He refers to himself as The Dog and likes to be addressed as such (I feel like I must have worked with one guy at every job who likes to have some sort of “dog” nickname; it’s true that a lot of people call me “Jay Dog” but I certainly didn’t start that). Like he walks around calling himself crazy, and muttering in a mock gravelly voice, “yes I am a dog…” But then almost somewhat of a beatnik, too, the way he talks mellow, and punctuates seemingly every comment with a little chuckle and the phrase, “you know what I’m sayin?”

Denver swings through, says he’s meeting Tim for some drinks at Gary’s Pub next door. Well well well! First I’m hearing of this charming little rendezvous! Later, I come home and write, and in the middle of it unexpectedly receive an IM from Amy, popping up on my screen. So we chat like this for an hour and a half.

August 24

After work, I run some errands, then winds up at China Buffet for dinner. Although the mussels here give me some serious food poisoning – I’m back home, sitting at the kitchen table shooting the breeze with Damon, and can feel the wave of nausea hit. It’s funny how you can tell right away, if not actually able to taste it, what specifically caused this. Anyway, I will lie around the house moaning and groaning all night, though possibly up for going out if something solid crops up.

Nothing does, however. Damon’s bummed because that stripper chick Paula was supposed to come down from Mansfield but never shows. Later, Maria and Jen call, wanting to see if we feel like doing something. Damon’s in a funny mood and tells them we’re not going over there unless Jen agrees to fuck him – even though they never have before. She wasn’t, so we didn’t.

August 25

Damon has golf outing for work, says it was free beer & he’s drunk by 10am. After I go into actual work and take Jamie home, we polish off a 6 pack. A couple of his shady druggie associates drift in and out, such as this Kyle kid with puffy red hair. They’re all trying to round up money to buy ecstasy from Ryan, but Ryan has insisted they are going to cost $25 apiece, and here Kyle has only rustled up $80 from his friends, thinking it would get him four. Jessica, the large blonde with the pretty face, is here too. She could be lethal at about 2am on the right night(s). Then they finally get things sorted out with Ryan, he agrees to come over later. Jamie’s trying to talk me into doing some with them but I’m just not interested in that stuff.

I head home, hang out with Paul & Damon briefly. Then those two leave for the Neil Young show at Polaris. Alan left a message earlier, so I call him back, then drive over to check out his and Tawnya’s place. They have moved in together at this charming redbrick apartment on Waltham, in what is basically my favorite part of town – vaguely in between Grandview and Upper Arlington. There’s I think three units in this building, it’s a tasteful old school looking pad with hardwood floors, I really dig it.

Somehow (my notes are unclear on this) Alan and I wind up at Tee Jaye’s with Damon later. I think there must be a missing foray to Traditions or something in there somewhere. Damon heads home, but I’ve driven Alan, therefore take him back and wind up crashing at his place.

August 26

Alan wakes me up at 7:30, I drive with bleary contact lenses to work.

Upon leaving there, I swing through McDonald’s for grub, then show up and discover John Allen has tons of food on hand anyway. Half of a Domino’s Pizza, for example, then he fires up the remains of a whole chicken – minus the breasts, which we’d sold to a customer – and cooks them in a skillet, using a whole 5 oz bottle of Frank’s Red Hot sauce, another half bottle, plus some black pepper, some crushed hot pepper, and a touch of Old Bay seasoning. Awesome. That one black manager chick Farisa is working again as she had on Wednesday.

“God she’s a cutie,” I tell John, and it’s true. Cool, too, she comes back and snacks on the food now and then with us.

Even John’s outfit is cracking me up, somehow. He has a Minnesota Vikings jersey on, number 22, the name SMITH on the back. And then a red hoodie underneath. I was thinking this must be a Robert Smith jersey but it turns out he doesn’t even wear that number.

Then some nice looking slut from deli comes over and tells us they have all kinds of desserts that are about to be pitched, and we can have any we want at no charge. So John and I stroll over and pick out a few cakes. And wow, I thought Bethel Road had all the hot customers, but they’ve got their fair share here, too – and while I’ve been digging the hotties at my store for years without really getting anywhere, this is a different class over here. Another new set of hotties I can dig and not get anywhere with.

Come home & crash on the couch. Maria’s having people over and I’m of course invited, but decide not to go. She used to have a ton of female friends, but I’m not sure what happened, they’ve all stopped going over there suddenly.

August 27

After work, I swing through Caddo’s. Have one rum and Coke to go with an order of potato skins at the bar. That fairly attractive older blonde, Rhonda, is working. Aside from a handful of decent looking girls elsewhere and these three hilarious college kids taking turns on karaoke, though, there’s not a ton happening here. I split to come home, watch movies and write.

August 28

I haven’t had a day off since August 6th. This is the closest to it since then, but even so wind up putting in four hours.

Sleep in until 10, then go grab some breakfast. Stop by Office Max to see about buying an ink cartridge for my word processor, but these are way too expensive (almost $40 apiece) considering how little I use the thing now. There’s one short story I’ve written and have saved on there, which I was hoping to print, but maybe I’ll just rewrite it on the computer instead. Probably better that way anyhow.

I stop at Steve’s Used Tires on Cleveland, have them swap out the donut tire for a good used one. Spent the rest of this sunny afternoon back at the house, writing, and trying to figure out some stuff on guitar. Then leave for the Worthington Galena store, albeit it stopping en route for a late lunch at the Max & Erma’s on 161 (buffalo chicken sandwich, fries).

Working with Alex tonight, who recently switched over to meat from seafood. What a funny, funny guy – where should I even start with the stories about him?

• I’m getting ready to wrap some steaks up for a customers and, just clowning around, he rips off a sheet of his own butcher paper, races over to wrap them before I do.
• He asks me, “what famous rock star died in 1971?” as what he considers to be some tantalizing trivia question. Knowing that he is obsessed with Jim Morrison, I think I already know the answer to this, but pretend to ponder matters over and say, “Jimi Hendrix.”

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. Then poses the same question to a customer who just approached our meat counter.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” the guy says.

Keeping us at the edge of our seats for a few measures longer, Alex looks at both of us before eventually revealing this was indeed none other than Mssr. Morrison. “Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, and Hank Williams, Jr. all died at 27,” he then tells us. I’m cracking up – not only is Hank still alive, but this is additionally comical in that we’ve gotten on this kick lately over at Bethel of belting out Family Tradition. But I don’t say anything to correct him.

• The Devo song Whip It comes on the Muzak, and he reaces to the phone, rigs the intercom somehow so that it plays twice as loud overhead.
• He’s once again quoting Morrison lyrics and rips into one about “lions running down from the hills,” or some such nonsense.

Remembering previous episodes like this, I casually say, “doesn’t he have one about erections in the streets?”

“Oh, you mean, I’m surprised you could get it up! You whip her careful and sardonically!”

Then this middle aged bald guy who works here comes walking up try this summer sausage we have out on the counter, as a free sample. “I’m surprised you could get it up!” Alex says to him.

“Get what up?” the guy grumbles. I laugh.

The interesting thing about Alex is that he’s not consciously trying to be funny. This makes him all the more hilarious, although he still comes up a little short from Jamie status. Both are over the top maniacs, but what makes Jamie even funnier is that he often is trying to be funny, too, on top of his frequent stone-cold-serious yet maniacal antics, and are therefore way beyond what any average joe would attempt in an effort to be funny. Whew, how did comedy get so complicated.

Come home and crack open a cold one after the slow night up there. Damon says Paula stopped by with more zany tales. He’s fearful that getting mixed up with her would be like that one Beastie Boys song all over again, She’s Crafty. For all we know, we might come home one day and find the place totally ransacked – not an outrageous idea given the crew she runs with, a bunch of wild dancer types.

August 29

Crazy fun night. It’s Jamie, Mike, Jacob, Lee and me heading off to Polo’s together. Jacob’s kind of cool for his age, I guess, but then there are other times where I feel he acts like a moron. All you have to conclude is that he’ll probably outgrow much of this and probably turn out okay. Nonetheless, he’s 19 and we’ve managed to sneak him into this bar, where he’s drinking a beer…yet for some reason thought it was a good idea to enter this place with a pistol stuffed into his sock. It’s just a .22, but still. Come on.

Well, he manages to get tossed early anyway, but only after the bartender spots him drinking a beer and asks for ID. Lee has to run him home. Mike’s telling this storty about how a few of them used to drive down to visit this one chick in Chillicothe, and one of his buddies for many of these excursions looked like Chris Farley. They would drink Early Times whiskey out of the bottle en route, then started to doctor the label, if that kid was with them, to where it read Farly Times instead.

Well then Lee shows back up, and we decide to pop over to DiMarco’s. Then realize we hadn’t tipped our bartender, so I head back inside to do so. He apologizes for tossing Jacob, but I tell him it was cool, he did the right thing. Over at DiMarco’s that cool old Roll guy is there, et cetera. Back to Jamie’s, his neighbor Chris comes over again. Earlier Jamie’s mom had booted Chris and some of his loud friends, actually, was yelling at them to leave. Now we’re just chilling and Jamie’s on the phone, and someone asks, “who you talkin to?”

“His stockbrocker,” I joke.

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, “my stockbroker.” Then, back into the phone, he’s saying, “can I afford $25 for a quarter, or $45 for a half…”

Hilarious conversation about things that are “ghetto” and whether any of us are guilty. It’s 4am and for some reason we consider it a riot to have Sesame Street on the TV.

August 30

After work, Jamie and I head over to Jacob’s in my car, sit around drinking Mountain Dew and eating Cheese Its. This has not been a huge month on the lady front for me, but whatever. There are always peaks and valleys to this stuff, and anyway I feel like it’s a miracle I have any social life at all right now, given how much they’ve been working me. Overall, though, even my successes have mostly been retreads here lately, so I guess I need to branch out more. Someone new will enter the picture soon, though, I’m sure, and am not really sweating it.

When Jacob’s mom comes home, we decide to leave. I accidentally knock over the next door neighbor’s trash can pulling out – this is on West Case, directly across from the Don Scott airport. Of course this would turn out to be a really hot blonde chick in nurse scrubs, whom I can hear yelling at us from behind. Since we’re already on the road, I never stop to go flip it back upright, and have therefore probably blown it with a potential fresh lead, there. Or maybe this will turn out to be an accidental, stealthy icebreaker, heh heh.

We stop for beer at a gas station. “I got shotty, bitch!” Jamie says to Jacob, after we exit that place. Jacob fires that damn pistol out the window while I’m driving. Over at Jamie’s now, Jessica stops by, and this dude named Sheldon who’s wearing a visor. One of them calls Dane trying to locate some weed, and apparently the price he quotes is a good one, which a few of them are commenting favorably upon after getting off the phone.

“Yeah, but he didn’t tell you that’s brown shit with serious tax on it,” Jacob jokes.

I guess my background observations are pretty pointless most of the time, but they sure are entertaining. Who knows, I might be able to use this material someday. Hunter Thompson always ripped on Tom Wolfe for being too “stuffy” to get involved in the stories he reported, and though people around here often have this misplaced maniacal image of me, I think it’s pretty obvious which direction I actually lean in myself. But, I don’t know, it almost feels like I’m in the middle somewhere. Or not even there, but like there are actually two completely separate threads (at least) running through my life at all times. There’s this nonsense, which I’m detached from, don’t care about, am just kind of passively observing to kill time…then my actual life, which is surprisingly somewhat wild, about which none of these people know anything.

Anyway, I’m getting burned out on this scene, even, and am home mighty early. Damon’s feeling pretty fried himself. He fills me in on his current happenings, and vice versa. Then by 7 o’clock we are both passed out on the living room couches.

August 31

Getting up for work this morning, Damon and I are both cracking up at how unmotivated we were yesterday. Then again, if there’s nothing much going on, it doesn’t kill you to take a night off every now and then. And is it really so suprising you might be exhausted on occasion? I mean, let’s examine the evidence:

Work today, then on my way home, I stop by Sam Ash. I’ve been looking around here lately because I want to upload a bunch of old tapes to my computer, plus record some new music. Therefore after doing my research I decide to plonk down a fairly decent amount of money on this Cakewalk Pro Audio 9 program today, come home and install it.

Then drive over to Worthington Galena for another closing shift with John Allen. Home, Damon’s the phone with his Jessica chick. Melissa calls, asks about bringing all her stuff and staying with us for a couple of weeks (Ann’s new roommate is moving in that apartment, and she can’t return to the sorority house just yet). Then says she’s partying with some friends tonight down at Liberty’s and invites me to join them. So Damon has Jessica over, she shows up right about the time that I’m heading out on the town.

September 1

Maria’s birthday bash. Wait around for Damon & Melissa, leave at 7:30 to swing by and get Jamie. We have one beer at his place before continuing onward to Maria’s. When we show up, she’s sitting here with Jason and this nice looking blonde named Maryland who moved to town not too terribly long ago. From Columbus, GA, oddly enough. Is working with Tommy & Clay & everyone at Liebert now. As it turns out, which we won’t piece together until later, she has also worked with my ex-girlfriend Heather, here in town. So it’s all very strange.

We have a fairly decent though highly unexpected posse rustled up for tonight. One lamentable development all around is that Stacy is in the mix, something I never would have guessed. Right after I stopped seeing her this summer, she started in with some friend of Maria’s whose name just happens to be Damon also. He works at this gas station on Bethel Road. So they are a couple, and come here together. Not exactly the most common name, yet somehow we have two Damons in the crew tonight. I can only hope this doesn’t happen very often, because the thought of hanging out with that Stacy-Damon duo constantly is less than appealing.

But there are other things to rally around. Clif shows up with his employee named Chris, but then more signicantly, Molly makes a rare appearance. Tommy and Clay are also here. We all head off in various vehicles to Polo’s, I smack Maryland’s ass in the parking lot. Pool, darts, and drinks there. Then we’re leaving and Jamie for some reason jumps out of the bushes to slam into Damon (Privette), cackling maniacally – my roommate is already not sure what to make of that dude, and this doesn’t help matters any.

Back to Maria’s house, many of the gang are smoking pot. Clif said he was heading to campus directly from Polo’s, that he might be hooking up with some chick down there. But everyone else that I’m aware of ends up here. Stacy takes one hit off the bowl and passes out on the couch, as her new man sits there with an arm around her, looking somewhat lost. Plenty of beer here, too, of course, for those of us who prefer this. Although for only like the second or third time that I know of, Damon (Privette) is partaking of the weed, which is itself quite shocking.

Maryland takes a “nap” at 3am, asks us to wake her up at 4, so she can get ready for work. Clay is being way too obvious and over the top about hitting on her, quite apparently becomes a little pissed off that it isn’t working, and leaves. Tommy goes to bed, as do some of the others, Molly included. Stacy’s new dude shakes her awake and they split. The pot has the opposite effect on Damon (Privette) as it does most people, he becomes extremely animated and is running around the house, says this “great wise pig” is talking to him. So everyone’s cracking up.

Maria and Jason are fighting, of course. She starts hinting around about wanting to do Damon. He crashes in Ryan’s bed, though. Jason is clearly in the doghouse as he gets the living room floor.

September 2

After work, I come home, crash for about an hour. Before driving out to Worthington Galena again, working 5-9 with Alex.

September 3

A virtual repeat of yesterday, it seems. After my shift at Bethel, I throw on The Big Lebowski, watch part of it before falling asleep. Wake up at 4:45 cursing because once again I have to be at store 879, once again 5-9 with Alex, once again quite dead. John Sherman’s here until about 6:30, however, and Alex has this small black and white TV back in the meat department cued up for viewing the Cowboys-Eagles game. So that’s something, anyway. There are surely worse things in life than being paid time and a half to stand around eating free samples and watching football.

And there are also the comedy gems Alex is constantly dispensing. Even if typically not even trying to be funny. Among tonight’s most memorable nuggets:

customer – ever been to Mexico?

Alex – No. I’ve been to Tijuana and the Baja, though

customer – that is Mexico

Alex – well, in way, yes

(customer asking about our raw shrimp, wants to know if we have more than just the ones thawed out in our service case)

Alex – we’ve got some frozen ones, they’re $9.99 a pound. The reason these are more expensive (points to $11.99 pirce tag on the thawed out shrimp) is because when they thaw out, they gain weight

customer – they gain weight?

Alex – yeah

He is a really cool guy, though, a real nice cat that means well. He just cracks me up to no end for some reason. Earlier, he tells me a joke I come to realize he just made up:

Alex – what’s the best way to get your wife to go shopping for you?

me – (looking puzzled, not even realizing this is a joke, trying to think of a legitimate answer)

Alex – turn on a football game!

Also, his Morrison obsession knows no bounds, he recites lyrics from Celebration of the Lizard King word perfect.

September 4

My first total day off since August 6th. Still, it’s gloomy and kind of depressing weather-wise today, gloomy even inside. But I get to lounge around watching movies. Also, our new “roommate” Melissa is here, after getting off work at COSI herself.

September 5

Long day at work. Later, Damon and I drive up to watch A.J. Angelo play at Alumni Club. Owner Frank once again trying to talk Damon into starting his own jam night.

September 7

After work, cards at Alex’s apartment with him and Denver. He lives at the Continent in what looks like, and is by and large, a shabby complex. Nonetheless, I must admit I am completely astounded as to how many babes are on hand around this building, they are pouring out of the woodwork, in the halls and everywhere else.

Well, everywhere except his actual apartment, I should say, at least not tonight. Tonight it’s just the three of us playing spades at a kitchen table. It’s not a bad place, though, reminds me of somewhere I might have lived up in Mansfield, although way too stuffy hot temperature-wise. Aside from that, it’s pretty much the hilarity I would expect, with albums and books scattered all over, Doors posters on the walls, etc.

His unintentional comedy and frequent dorkiness keep me in stitches as well. Like his incredibly lucky comeback in spades, after which he’s nonetheless nodding like a savvy veteran, sagely advising with complete seriousness, “you’ve got to study your opponent,” while viewing the recently dealt hand. Or then later as those two are passing a joint back and forth, he takes three puffs before gasping, “I’m so stoned I can’t concentrate!”

After running Denver to his new home, I get in around 12. Damon’s so exhausted all he has done is sleep since getting in from work himself.

September 8

Scoop those two B.B. King tickets out of Erin’s mailbox, then hit Pockets for happy hour. Wings and 22 ounce “tall boy” $1 drafts. Then meet up with Damon & Paul, before the show, I drive us there. Try to call Mike to no avail. Afterwards, cruise by Rosie’s but don’t even go inside, decide to hit Break-A-Way instead. This place is crawling with fine women tonight, which certainly helps the cause, and the barmaid is even acting somewhat wild. Though she does make us wait 30 minutes for our tab.

September 9

Damon & I both begin to stir around eleven, walk up to Chinese buffet for lunch, then over to Sam Ash – he wants to see if they have the new Angus Young model guitar. Returning to the house, he heads upstairs for a nap. Jamie has already left two messages for me about this party, so I call him back.

Pack a change of clothes and go in to work. Close down the shop there, then hit this steakhouse on Bethel for dinner. Then over to Jamie’s place, where this Buckeye football game against Arizona is starting. So far it’s just him, some Cyrus guy, Jessica, and this other cute girl, all four of them are messed up on Special K. The cute girl gets scared & Cyrus has to run her home. Some more people stop by – Jacob’s ex-girlfriend, a young black girl named Amy; Jamie’s neighbor Chris; two other quite dudes; a taller, skinnier, energetic kid named Garth; some all guy named Kevin & his sidekick Rusty Queen, they were both really cool and in fact Rusty looks like Jeremy Wendling except with long black hair instead of brown.

Everyone except me and this Garth character are snorting K. Jamie describes himself as “K-tarded,” which pretty much sums it up. This stuff looks ignorant as hell to me. Although I guess it’s kind of a fascinating scene to observe – and it’s probably a good idea for there to be a couple of us on hand who aren’t completely messed up. Like for example Jessica, who is quite large, is passed out for a few hours right in the downstairs bathroom doorway, sprawled out on the floor. So we all have to run upstairs to use the can until she eventually revives. I just really don’t see the point of this nonsense, or how enjoyable it could possibly be.

Jamie does admittedly seem to be enjoying himself quite a bit. Then again his tolerance is higher than just about anybody’s by this point. Like he’s warmly reminiscing to Rusty about his first ever rave, riding down to Cincy with Ryan awhile back.

“We were in this hotel and I felt like I couldn’t get out of the bed, I thought there were cobwebs hanging off my arms – bleh – and the world was going to end and I’d be stuck there,” Jamie says.

“What was it, some Y2K shit?” Rusty asks.

“Y2 much K,” I interject.

“I was in some kind of K World,” Jamie explains.

“K Mart,” I correct, which seems much more like it to me.

Amy and I exchange charged glances for quite some time, then she comes over and sits by me on the couch. We talk for a little bit but then she passes out. Funny how everyone looks like an angel when they’re sleeping, I think, as does she, the quiet, rhythmic patterns of her sweet little breaths absolutely adorable.

Those two quiet guys pass out at the kitchen table. Those of us remaining who are upright and coherent – or anything close to it – continue watching the football game. By far the most animated and excited about this contest is Garth, who sits close to the TV and intently absorbs every play. It helps that he’s not snorting this crap, although e has shown up with his favorite weed smoking device, which, though a questionable pink color, he has nicknamed Billy Bong Thornton. He passes it around to whomever else might be interested, although it’s always interesting and sometimes hilarious to see who draws the line at what. Like Rusty, for example, is messed up on this Special K, but refuses to smoke any pot. On the other hand, the K has no discernible effect on Kevin. Possibly because he is such a tall and muscular dude, though he also hasn’t done much, in fact it seemed to me like he wasn’t too interested in the first place and to be cajoled into trying it.

“Look, it was the white guy!” Garth marvels when this wide receiver named Cacchio catches a touchdown pass, “Chad Ca-cheech-o!”

For the rest of the game, he remains obsessed with Cacchio, though continuing to pronounce it “Ca-cheech-o,” at least on the occasions he’s not simply referring to him as “the white guy.” And I too find myself rooting for Caccio now, it becomes our little bonding moment, as we laugh and cheer on every single thing that Caccio does. Regarding the team as a whole, the Buckeyes look a little rough to start with, but blank Arizona in the second half and eventually pull out a win.

Rusty sacks out after the game, and the rest of us find ourselves watching, however improbably enough…A Simple Plan. Starring of course Billy Bob Thornton. As for Billy Bong, Garth actually gets up to leave, with the giant pink contraption still sitting on the coffee table. “Don’t forget Billy Bong Thornton,” Jamie slurs, when Garth is just about the door, and he returns to grab it.

Jessica finally arises, enters the living room to join us. “You’re awake!” Jamie marvels.

“I’ve been awake, I’ve been listening to everything for the last two hours,” she tells us, though I’m not buying it.

“Whatever. You were asleep,” I scoff.

“I was not asleep.”

“What do you call it then? A coma?” and everyone laughs as I say this.

“A K-oma,” she corrects, to another uproarious round of laughter.

Kevin wakes up Rusty and they leave, Jamie moves over to the lumpy loveseat they’d occupied. As I get up too, Amy instinctively senses she now has the couch to herself, and stretches out without actually waking up. I grab a blanket from under Jamie’s feet and fall asleep somewhere past 4 on the uncomfortable floor, having turned the channel to the tail end of a 48 hour A-Team marathon. Earlier than this I’d actually attempted watching it, when the remaining diehards went into the kitchen to snort what was left of the K (Jamie was picking his nose and licking the results from his fingers; everyone bitched about the drainage down the back of their throats), but then they all returned and complained. Now I finally get my way.

September 10

Wake up so sore I can’t even walk at first. Amy, giggling, steps over me to go grab a blanket from the basement, then returns to sleep on the couch once more. Jamie is even awake at this ungodly aware, too, somehow, talking, although everyone else has fallen back asleep by the time I leave.

So I’m in to work at 8. After that, I grab lunch at McDonald’s, then drive immediately up to Worthington Mall. I’m killing some time in the bookstore, in the actual mall itself, in my Kroger shirt. Some random guy shopping here, who thinks I am a boosktore employee, comes up to ask if I’ve read any Dean Koontz. I have, in fact, and walk him over to point out a couple books that I liked. Only then does he realize I don’t actually work here, and starts cracking up, apologizes for bothering me.

“It’s okay,” I assure him.

Work 4:30 to 9 in seafood, shooting the breeze with John for a minute before he leaves. David is closing meat and I watch his case while he’s on break, also start coyly doing things while he’s gone to help him out a little bit, like wrapping up stuff from the service case and putting them out on the floor. I can tell he’s behind and feel sorry for the guy – Christ, he had been here until 10:10 last night, and who knows how long this will take him tonight. But it’s not my problem, really, and I split at 9 as planned.

September 11

Early shift at work. Then in the afternoon, Damon and I help Melissa move all her stuff out of our place, back into the Alpha Delta Pi sorority house on 15th. Considering her fellow sisters mostly still don’t like us and just so happen to find some dirty laundry of mine in Damon’s truck…inevitable, all too easy to predict shenanigans soon follow. In other words, he and I take these dirty socks and strategically hide them all around the house. Like in one memorable example, I’m on an upstairs floor somewhere, sneak into some chick’s empty room, and stuff a dirty sock behind her dresser. Let’s just say these specimens of mine trend toward the ripe end of the spectrum, too. While on one hand I’m well aware this is really juvenile and stupid…on the other, for us to laugh this hard over these stunts means they must be truly funny, and anyway, is this not exactly the type of behavior the fraternities up the street are known for? Why is it cool if they do it? Plus, you can argue this is doing the public a favor, in being forced now to buy a bunch of brand new socks.

Later, a weird, cobbled together crew ends up at BW3, watching Monday Night Football. It’s Mike Costill, Nicole, Lee, Damon, and me, with Jamie joining us still later. Maria and Maryland were supposed to meet us, too, but never show. In an odd turn, we bump into Matt McCready here, Damon and I wind up chatting with him for a while. He was directly in front of me in the high school graduation procession…and I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen him since. As I’m saying, my mental picture of him is still with long hair and a beard, though now he’s well dressed, short hair, glasses, real conservative looking. Meanwhile I guess I’ve gone completely in reverse, am looking kind of scraggly now myself. Guess we all wear different hats in life, until we find one that fits. He’s got a really attractive chick with him, though, so it’s clear who is currently winning this battle.

So it winds up being a highly entertaining night. Near the end, I tell Damon that Nicole is digging him, and he appreciates my insider knowledge, decides to act upon it…by following her into the ladies room, and handing her his business card.

September 12

Rainy day. After work, Jamie needs a lift to Goodyear. He took it there a while ago for an appraisal, didn’t have the money, now they’re threatening to have the thing impounded if he doesn’t move it himself. So he called the nearby Marathon earlier on Bethel to see if they have tow trucks, and they said yes. Except he didn’t actually reserve one, and now the guy working here says they’re all in use now, none are available.

Well, this isn’t just some random guy working here – it’s Stacy’s new boyfriend, Damon. I knew he worked at a gas station but couldn’t remember which one. And whereas in the past (we had met on a couple occasions prior to their dating, since he is a friend of Maria’s) he was friendly, that chumminess is all gone now. Today he is short with me, and I notice he’s staring at my car, out the window, as we back away from here.

So Jamie has to call around all over again, finding an available tow truck, and having it sent over to Goodyear for real. In the meantime, we swing through Quik & Cold, grab a six pack of Bud Light bottles, sit in my car drinking these with the radio on while we wait. Goodyear employees keep walking past, including another of Maria’s friends, that goofy Mike fellow who runs the place, but we hide our beer and they don’t bother us.

“This is the best happy hour I’ve been to,” I tell Jamie. We ponder telling everyone at work tomorrow with a straight face about this awesome happy hour spot we found, and when they ask what it’s called, tell them Goodyear.

The tow truck eventually arrives. Jamie still doesn’t have the money for repairs, so he’s just having this thing shipped back to his house. The driver follows us, and upon arrival, we offer him a beer. He declines, as Jamie is concurrently pumping him for information on how much he makes.

“Six hundred a week!” Jamie gasps, after being told.

“We’re in the wrong line of work,” I joke.

“We’re in the wrong line of work!” Jamie shouts. The driver gives us a half grin and says he started out at Kroger himself.

Then home to take a nap before the Brian Wilson concert. My roommate Damon has left a message saying he’ll be a little later than expected, he’s setting up this boat show in Sandusky. Then he rolls in around 7:30, we tear off for downtown. Wilson is playing at the Ohio Theatre.

After the show, we’re in a good mood goofing around in a very cold Tee Jaye’s, eating and talking to the other patrons. Come home, he crashes but I stay up writing & so forth.

September 13

Following morning shift at my normal job, I have lunch at Bill Knapp’s, reading some, then slide up to Worthington Mall for a dull 4:30 to 9 shift. Ava is in to say hi, I’m flirting with this cute brunette in produce. Come home, Damon’s sitting here, he says Clif wants to go out with us and already has some girls rounded up. Maria calls, says it’s Jen’s last night in town and she wants to go out, too – I tell her to meet us at the bar, Vinny’s off of Kenny Road.

Damon and I decide to try and “out black” Clif with our attire, therefore dress accordingly. Then he follows me in his truck, I pick Clif up, and we join forces with the others at Vinny’s.

We meet these chicks named Emily & Shannon here…I’m feeling hilarious at first and getting responses as such, but somehow lose that spirit, not that it winds up mattering…in the early going I’m thinking Emily digs Damon but this apparently (more in a moment) turns out not to be true…bump into Drew, Barrett, and Mike Shultz, all formerly also workers at the Damon’s restaurant on Olentangy. Actually, two of the three had left before I ever started there, but they came around constantly still and were good friends with everyone, so we are acquainted anyway. In fact Barrett if I’m not mistaken also used to mess around with Lisa, years before I ever entered the picture…Maria, Jen, & Molly show up…we soon decide to relocate to DiMarco’s…conversing with that cool really old guy Roll again and some Bob character…Damon leaves with Maria, Jen, and Molly, going back to Maria’s department I think…however I also hit a jackpot of sorts in that I’m still hanging in there with this Emily chick. She rides with me and Clif back to his apartment.

Near the end of the night I ask her for a kiss, then Clif unintentionally stumbles onto us and breaks this up…stretched out on the hood of my car, he comes out and says, “what the fuck you doing?”…drive home at a quarter till 5, by which point, it’s cracking me up to observe, people everywhere are standing at bus stops, on their way to work.

September 14

Lo! Behold another actual full day off, just my second in six weeks! Therefore do nothing whatsoever but lie around, eat, watch movies. Damon gets home from work in the afternoon and does the same thing himself. I guess we’re both mighty burned out. Maria calls but we successfully dodge that bullet.

September 16

Roy’s 30th birthday party

September 17

Maria gave me her cell phone to put by my head on the couch, with an alarm set for 7:45. But of course I was awake well before then, as almost always, and chilled out until that time. Shut the alarm off, walk out to my car, change in the parking lot (have to sit down in car to change pants, as I don’t have any underwear on), then drive across the street to work.

After that shift ends, I have to run Jamie home. As a form of payment, he buys a 6 pack of Bud Light, which really hit the spot after a brutal day. As soon as we’re inside, he starts playing his answering machine messages, all 22 of them, although a good 3/4 are just the voice of an operator, over and over again, saying, “IF YOU’D LIKE TO MAKE A CALL, PLEASE HANG UP…IF YOU NEED ASSISTANCE, PLEASE HANG UP AND DIAL THE OPERATOR,” in an annoying, too-polite female voice.

“The operator’s sweating your nuts, dude,” I tell him, although in reality we have no idea what this is. Then riff on some jokes about how this would at least be an easy number to remember late at night, when you come home drunk: zero.

Then there’s an actual message from Kris Kammeraad: “Jamie…this is Kris from work it’s…a quarter till eight, you were supposed to be here at seven…call us and let us know what’s up…”

Two more are from his grandma, one from his mom. She’s having her teeth pulled (“bad teeth run in the family” Jamie explains) and is staying the weekend with the grandma. In a twenty four hour period, therefore, they have left three messages, each explaining they were, “just calling to see if you were alright.”

“Damn, they must worry about you a lot,” I remark.

“They do,” he admits, but then again in his case I suppose it is warranted.

Jessica shows up, then Garth, toting this brand new bowl he just purchased from Waterbeds ‘N’ Stuff. We’re watching Minnesota stomp the Patriots and these two newcomers combine what weed they have, fire up Garth’s latest acquisition, pass that around with Jamie partaking, me declining as always. Jamie’s always trying to rope me into it, but I’m just not interested; it’s another of those weird disjointed phenomenons where I feel like the same people marveling at my focus and manic energy act like I’m being some kind of weirdo for suggesting that this might negatively impact that.

“How could you not want to hit this beautiful thing?” Garth coos, holding the bowl out in front of me.

“It looks like a penis,” I observe.

After studying it for a second, he concludes, “a one testicled penis, maybe,” which causes Jessica to laugh. Then he recalls, “I used to know this girl who had a wooden bowl that actually was shaped like a penis.”

“Bet she liked puffing on that thing,” I mutter.

“One time there was nothing else to smoke out of and we had to use it, but I put my hands around it like this,” he says, demonstrating the technique, hands cupped around the end, “I refused to touch it with my lips.”

Chris Benetrix calls, is apparently looking for some weed himself. “To buy?” I hear Jamie saying. After they hang up, I question Jamie, saying I thought he told me they don’t talk anymore. “We don’t,” he agrees, except then Chris calls back to say he’s coming over.

“Wait, which Chris is that?” Garth asks, “is that the one who lives over there (points north)?”

“He lives on Dierker,” I state, which is maybe a mile due east.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Garth says, “lives in the same complex as that one kid, Jared?”

“Yeah,” Jamie confirms.

“I really don’t like that kid,” Garth continues, “I was over at his house one time with Jacob and we accidentally left my bong there. So Jacob calls up chris and says don’t do anything with the bong, we’ll be over in a ffew days to get it. So we go over there and Chris says he took the bong over to Jared’s hosue and left it there, and Jard was going to be out of town the whole week. I’m like, what the fuck?, you know, and he’s like, well, nobody told me.”

After they’ve already passed the bowl around about 18 times, Jessica starts coughing, says, “I’ve got a cold.” The other two start flipping out, but she presses onward, explaining, “by the time you start showing symptoms, youre already past the contagious stage. Besides, it’s actually bronchitis.”

“BRONCHITIS!?” Garth shrieks.

“Asthmatic bronchitis. It’s different,” she tells him.

Jamie was just about ready to hit it, but now stops to wipe the bowl off thoroughly with his tee shirt. “I’m not taking any chances,” he says, grinning over at me like a mishchievous little kid.

Somehow we get to discussing our various bloodlines; Jessica says she’s “Irish-German-French-Sicilian,” to which I joke “that sounds like mutt blood.” Jamie expresses considerable surprise when I mention being mostly Irish myself, as far as I know; we’re talking football and Garth remarks that his favorite OSU player is now Chad Ca-cheech-o.

“I like him just because he’s got a cool name,” Garth explains.

“And he’s white!” I point out, laughing about that all over again.

“That’s right, they did make a point about that…,” Jamie says.

I leave here about 6:30. Am driving up Bethel and actually pass Chris walking this way, but don’t stop, don’t feel like giving him a ride.

September 19

After work, Ryan and I hit Shooters. My seafood clothes are mighty ripe, so he loans me a navy blue tee shirt he has in his car. And I’m able to rustle up some sandals from mine, though there’s not much I can do about these jeans. This is one hazard of the seafood department, in that I have to plan ahead if going anywhere afterwards, bring a change of clothes, or else must run home, or possibly buy new ones.

Maria and Maryland are supposed to meet us here – this is the 3rd consecutive night she called Maria looking to get into something. But then bails anyway, as Maria alone meets us up there. So it’s a pretty short outing for us. Later, though, I wind up hitting Alumni Club with Damon.

September 20

Near the end of our shift, Jessica swings through with some wild tale about blowing out a tire in Jamie’s parking lot. He fronts her $87 to get it fixed. Then when we clock out, he and I grab a Freschetta pizza and a 12 pack of Bud Light. Jill is on break out in front of the store and watches us walk to our cars – I can only imagine what she thinks about our odd ensemble. Actually I had noticed her watching us clown around in the checkout lane, then she came out here to smoke. Jessica’s already waiting for us out here, by my car, and we tear off for Jamie’s house from here.

His mom is up and about, looking pretty good I must admit in her nightgown. Pizza in oven, beers cracked open, everyone hanging out and talking et cetera. Actually, after just one beer, I switch to Coke but then of course naturally spill it everywhere, and my one sandal is so sticky I have to take them off. Maintaining two functional sandals at all times is apparently a major struggle. Chris Shaw stops by, he’s flipped out because some “friends” of his (who’d stolen $1000 off him before) nave now broken into the house, swiped $400 this time, as well as some CDs, video games, and, he claims, the family’s blue van. Except the van has already turned up and his parents, suspecting some sort of “inside job,” are blaming the kids for all of this.

Later, Jamie’s mom is upstairs and shouts down to him concerning the noise. “Jamie, what’s going on down there!?” she demands.

“I can’t call it,” he replies, which is actually Miles’s classic line, in response to virtually everything. So we start cracking up over this.

I must fall asleep on the comfortable couch somewhere around 1 in the morning. Next thing I know, this alarm clock is going off, and I snap awake. It’s now 6am. The TV is still on but the living room is deserted. As for the alarm, it’s sitting atop the television and I can’t figure out how to shut the thing off. Instead I just turn the volume down, meander out to my car and drive home in the early morning dark.

September 21

Day off but they keep trying to call me in. Unfortunately I even have to brave enemy waters by sneaking in to pick up my paycheck. But manage to escape unscathed. At home, I bump into Paul, hit Max & Erma’s with him. He leaves to pick up his dad at the airport. Then Damon gets in, he and I head over to this driving range which shall remain nameless, for a much discussed though never enacted plan. Instead of playing, he and I set up shop on a nearby hill, with balls and clubs and…begin firing shots into the driving range, aimed at the other golfers! This is one of the more hilarious stunts in many a day and we can’t stop laughing. Later, he and I check out Thirsty Ear, we learn that Mick Taylor’s playing here tomorrow!

September 22

Since I’m scheduled 2-10, the Mick Taylor show is out for me. Paul swings through to get tickets, though, for him and Damon. I’m actually sitting out on the break table when he arrives, chatting with Mike Harper & Jeremy Lopez. So he hangs out for a minute before splitting. Later, after the show, they arrive home half drunk (especially Damon) and fill me in about the details.

September 23

Shift at work

rave at Valley Dale Ballroom

September 25

After work, I come home, nap for a while on our comfy brown couch. Jill calls for the second night in a row, comes over. She and I grab Damon and go out bowling for a while.

September 27

Ed Lloyd calls me at work. Now that they’ve finally decided to bust up that notorious Henderson Road crew, he’s landed at the Dublin store. Therefore he wants to know if I can work there tonight – it’s difficult to turn down cakewalk overtime, so I tell him yes.

I get into a mild crash en route, though it’s not my fault. Near the store, I pull into this left hand turn lane, and some kid who had already been sitting in the straight line, at that light, impulsively whips over in front of me. Neither of us are driving great cars and agree in a matter of seconds it was his fault, the damage is neglible, nobody’s hurt, we don’t care about much else and decide to just move on.

Though Alex and Maria have both gotten a hold of me about doing something tonight, Jill understandably wins the day. She comes over later and spends the night.

September 28

As Jill predicted (not that it would exactly take a fortune teller to do so) work keeps trying to call me in. But I just let the answering machine pick up. A resumption of activities this morning, heh heh, and then she leaves around 1 or 2. For the second week in a row I happen to be off on payday, and am feeling as though you basically have to pull this off with the skill of a jewel thief in order to avoid detection. Paul’s hanging out here anyway and rides me with me to the store, as I sneak in and approach the front desk warily, casting furtive glances in every direction, to grab the sealed envelope with my name on it.

“They’re looking for you,” Deena and David both playfully warn me, from behind the customer service desk, as they retrieve my check. But I manage to scurry on out of there without anyone cornering me.

Paul & I have lunch at Friday’s. Then when Damon gets home, the three of us ride down for some drinks at Out-R-Inn. Brennan’s working here now and I talk to him for a bit. A nice day but a chilly night.

September 29

Damon gets in accident on the way home from work. He and Paul attend the Kiss show, which if I’m not mistaken is the second time Damon has seen them this year alone. As for me, after work, I swing by Jamie’s. Find the usual motley assortment of friends and oddball acquaintances there, ranging from Mike to Lee to Jessica to Cyrus, along with these two other quiet dudes. Jamie is in a funny fired up mood and starts freestyle rapping, making up lyrics off the top of his head – one hilarious verse features a bunch of derogatory remarks about Jacob, and is the first ditty, as far as I am aware, to ever rhyme the words “hell” and “buttsmell.”

Mike and Lee are heading down to Panini’s, and I agree to meet them there. Come home, change, Damon and Paul show up and we ride down to campus together.

September 30

Lisa’s in town so it’s a crazy night out with her, Maria, Tommy & Bree, Ryan & his new girlfriend Jamie, some hilarious black dude named Don. Polo’s, spend the night there. At her house, I mean, not Polo’s.

October 1

Jill comes over after she gets off work, we drive to Easton but end up eating at Denny’s. Service horrible.

October 8

Maria calls me at work, says she and Clay and Maryland are going to the haunted house thing at Wyandot Lake. I’ve already been there and done that, though, decide I would rather just go home, watch baseball playoffs and get caught up on laundry. Lame as this may be.

October 9

Drive myself and Jamie up to BW3 to meet Bill Flory for happy hour. Knock back some ale, munch on some apps. Jamie’s in good spirits early on, anyway, we’re cracking up about how Bill leaves this stack of money on the bar at all times, then when it’s time to pay for another beer, he just kind of slaps the bills off the top of his stack with one hand. Almost like dealing cards or something. Jamie starts calling him Dollar Bill, as a result, which in turn leads to his singing that one Wu Tang Clan song about, “dollar bill…dollar dollar bill y’all…” As the three of us sit here at the bar.

Joe Barnes shows up and joins us for a little while. Next thing I know Jamie’s literally crying to Bill, talking about his dad, bawling his eyes out – he’s kind of the black sheep as far as the kids go, I know, he says his dad’s always somewhat of a dick to him, won’t help with the car situation, et cetera. We’re probably a little tipsy, but nothing too crazy, and I run him home around 7. It turns out that things go completely haywire after I drop him off, and I feel bad about not sticking with him in his bummed out state, though I won’t learn about any of this until the next day.

But I eventually learned what happened. After I dropped Jamie off, he called his girlfriend about possibly going over there. His mom tells him he doesn’t need to be going anywhere (he’s drunk and, to be honest, she has never liked the girl). He slams the phone on her leg and says, “don’t fuckin tell me what to do!” So, they get in this big fight, which is when he storms off to Legends. Has by his count a few more beers, a shot, and a couple of Purple Hooters while here. Calls Ryan, then as we know left before waiting for him to show up anyway.

Back at the house, his mom calls her other son, David, to come and try to straighten Jamie out. So David and his girlfriend show up and don’t really get anywhere – Jamie punches a hole in the living room wall, the bathroom wall, and this is when he also rips the phone out of the one in the kitchen. And throws a chair across the house. Then, he’s running through the parking lot, somehow rips a mirror off a car when his hip slams into it. Some burly neighbor tries to contain him and fail. Also Jessica and Garth, who have arrived, with Jessica at one point sitting on Jamie.

And this is where the cops come in. Two cruisers at first, then two more and a paddywagon. Handcuffs, leg restraints, good night.

October 10

At work, Bill asks me half jokingly what I did to Jamie last night to set him off, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. Well, it turns out that his mom called him off this morning, said he was in jail for assaulting her. I’m not entirely sure about the exact sequence of events, but apparently it took 6 cops and their mace cans to haul him away. By this point he’d ripped the phone out of the kitchen wall, et cetera. Ryan tells me Jamie called him last night to say he was at Legends, drunk, said he had hit his mom and needed to talk to a friend. But by the time Ryan showed up there, Jamie was gone. So apparently this is when he went home and went even more berserk and then the cops showed up.

Tonight, Damon heads up to Little Brother’s with Leah to watch some Martin Sexton guy. $16 cover charge. He’s never heard of the guy and neither have I. They invite me too, actually, but I decide to skip it. Instead Jill comes over, we rent American Psycho, hang out in my bed watching that and other stuff, are up until about 4 in the morning.

October 11

I’m up early for work and Jill leaves, too. She has the day off and wants me to call her when I get home. Instead after work I return, start attacking the mound of dirty dishes, which has been piling up for over a month. Paul shows up. The phone keeps ringing but there’s something wrong with our line, we can’t hear anything on our end and eventually can’t dial out, either. Or I guess this might be the phone itself and not the line, that would make more sense.

Anyway, Damon gets in and we run down to watch Superstar Rookie play. Paul had walked over to the String Shoppe after work and talked to Dan Bandman, it turns out that they are at some new all ages club down on Whittier tonight, a place called Addition 13. So we show up and talk to them before the gig, watch them play. It’s another solid performance. Travis is saying they want to add one cool ’80s cover song to their set, but can’t agree on which. Actually, they had at one point agreed on Jessie’s Girl and attempted to learn it…but then unexpectedly discovered, he says, that there were way too many changes in that song.

Then the three of us, the guys in the band (Dan, Travis, Brandon, Dave), and a couple other friends in the form of Scott Imsland and Josh Edinger, we all dip across the street to this hilarious dive called Chatterbox Bar for a few. Damon and Josh unexpectedly discover they have one weird thing in common in that they both have technically died, therefore spend a little of time discussing and “bonding” over this factoid.

Once this amusing little scene breaks up, on the way back to the apartment, we dip into the Out-R-Inn for a while. Somewhat heated musical debates here.

October 12

Damon and Angie attend Dixie Chicks concert. Jill and I just chill around the apartment, watch TV in the living room on fold out couch bed for whatever reason. She spends the night again.

October 13

Both of us have the day off. We cruise up to Schlotzsky’s for lunch, back to my house to fall asleep again on couch bed. Run over to her house later, rent movies. I leave about 10:30, to meet up with Damon and others at Flannagan’s to watch The Menus play – Robin and her sister (Shaun), some other nice looking chicks, a couple other dudes. We unexpectedly run into Chad Shinabarger too. Hilarious night, head back to Gahanna to Robin/Shaun’s house. Robin then comes home with us. More mayhem here. I don’t go to bed until 7:14am.

October 14

And then get up at 7:30, having set my alarm. Yes. After work, I ride with Ryan out to the Tumbleweed Restaurant in Hilliard. The occasion is Tim’s 40th birthday. Tim & Kim, Tom & (his wife, not our coworker) Tammy, plus Tim’s lunatic friends Mark (and hot wife Polly) and Glen, along with his son Zac are all present. John Sherman shows up later. Tom & Tammy leave, then Ryan & I do the same right after them, around 7 – everyone else was having cake and ice cream, then heading up to the haunted house at Polaris.

He takes me back to my car. Lisa is in town again and I’m supposed to do something with her tonight. Instead come home to nap and watch baseball while trying to make up my mind, which means I never do get up off the couch. Phone still not working, which means she can’t bug me anyway.

October 15

Another ridiculous day in a young “career” that has already been chock full of them. First, work at my store early, a shift we shall refer to as Phase I. Clif calls at about five minutes to 4 and asks, “when you leaving?”

“In about five minutes,” I tell him, though actually planning on being here until 4:30.

He urges me to hang tight, says he’ll be right. And he is, wearing his Schlotzsky’s uniform and plainly excited about something, as he leads me out to the parking lot, merrily indicates this fairly new looking reen minivan type thing he’s now driving. He is the proud owner of this ride, now, after his mom’s boyfriend decided he didn’t want it after they split up and etc etc etc (it’s another of the meandering Clif epics that I’m having trouble following).

I feel happy for him, though – I’ve known the dude three years and this is the first time he’s ever had his own wheels, except for a brief month or so window back when Patrick was living in his basement, during which time he drove Pat’s truck as part of their rent agreement. So we shoot the breeze a moment, he leaves, and I split at 4:30.

Bound for the Worthington Galena store next. Some Dan Hedges dude with one lazy eye is closing meat, I’m closing seafood. Talk to John Sherman before he splits.

Then it’s back to Bethel Road – my planned for closer didn’t materialize. Close down seafood. Talk to Miles briefly, he’s off at 9:45 and heads over to Maria’s. I drive through the Henderson Road Wendy’s for a late dinner, then show up over there myself.

“Looking a little rough, Pockets,” Tommy (Yanik) tells me.

“It’s ’cause I worked 14 hours today,” I reply.

“Fuck that,” everyone mutters.

They’re all tired, though, nobody wants to go out. I figure I’ll maybe just fool around with Lisa. Maria’s online making plane reservations for our Chicago trip – Lisa’s loaning Miles the money so he can go, too. Ryan & Tommy are sitting on the couch drinking, Miles is sitting on the floor, Lisa next to me on the love seat and I’m sipping a coffee. Tommy breaks out his skull bong, those three guys all smoke weed, we’re alternately watching the Bears/Vikings game and Mets/Cardinals playoff one, as Ryan switches the clicker back and forth.

I’m in fare form again like Friday night, making one wisecrack after another. But even though I later write a couple of these down, I have no idea what the punchlines pertain to: “Oh I dabble in it,” or “have to break my grandma’s heart,” etc. The only comment I can pin down for sure comes from Miles, when he jokes that he is now “toxicated and fumigated,” after the beer and the weed.

October 16

After work, I stop by Maria’s house to give her the money for the plane ticket. She’s not home at first, so I kill time at the bookstore. Then try again, by which point she, Jason, and Ryan are all here. They’re all making fun of me for my constant running around like a madman ways. But it’s possible they may have a point. I was supposed to be over to Jill’s at 8 (she’s cooking spaghetti) but at 8:45 I’m cracking open a beer here and calling to explain that I’m running late. However I do eventually make it over there, yes.

October 18

Wobble into Worthington Galena parking lot on a flat tire. Work 8-12:30. First, setting up seafood case (a breeze), then sliding over to help out meat at 11 – Tammie had conned me into doing so. She’d been at a head meatcutter meeting at my store and just shown up here. Which is presumably how Jana learns that I am over here today.

Put spare on my car, swing through Wendy’s for lunch, then arrive at my store at 1 for a six hour shift.

After leaving there, I swing by Jamie’s place. He was just fired today. Mainly I just want to drop off his keys, which have been in my car ever since that fateful night a week ago Monday. His mom is asking me to try and keep him out of trouble. “I’ll be a good influence,” I assure her.

Then Maria calls, says she’s on her way to Liebert to pick up some of that crew and thought Jamie might want to ride along, pick up an application to work there. So he agrees to this. She’s on her way over when I split, leaving him standing outside in a green hoodie, smoking a cigarette and waiting for her to arrive.

Back at the house, there’s a note from Damon saying he’s at the Radisson on Sinclair with some people from work. I’d started to notice at Jamie’s house that I was suddenly feeling very tired, but upon seeing this, I decide to head back out anyway. Only problem is, I can’t seem to find a Radisson, and figure he must mean Ramada instead. So I dip into the bar there – Bowties – but although it is packed (mostly midle aged people, though there are some nice looking slutty types), I can’t find him and his crew and don’t stick around long. Instead I come home and collapse on the couch.

October 19

Get up early to grab my paycheck. Then pick up Bob, who lives in the twisty, densely packed residential neighborhood right behind our store. His motorcycle is in this repair shop on Main, and I was heading down that way anyhow for a tire, so we worked out this plan. But then we get to the bike shop and the guy – who incidentally has had his chopper for 3 weeks now – has still not given the bike a test ride to see if everything is okay. So we split, with Bob agreeing to check again on Monday.

But it’s not an entirely wasted trip, as I swing through A & H on Parons, my favorite drive through used tire joint. As we wait, loitering around and outside of the garage door facing the street, a helicopter flies overhead and patrol cars sit patiently in wait nearby. According to the dude changing my tire, some shady guy had been running from the cops earlier, and now they have him holed up, presumably in some house.

Drop Bob off at his house, then swing by work again, as I forgot to cash my check the first time I was here today. Talking to Tim, he tells me that Donnie will be the next casualty – he’s shipping out in a couple of weeks to the old Delaware store as acting head meat cutter. So now we’re talking about what comes next regarding our department, whether I should submit a letter of intent to formal get in the mix on the apprenticeship program. Donnie has even less experience cutting meat than me, and if he’s already made head cutter, then it’s something I should maybe think about. Tom was right (of course) in that I probably should have never taken this head seafood position. My numbers are consistently the best in the zone, especially since Masood has been promoted, so that’s not the problem – the issue is it’s a no-win dead end place to be.

It’s a sunny day out, still early, and I cut over to the PIzza Hut on 161 for their lunch buffet. But duck into the hotel next door first to grab a copy of the Dispatch. Then I get home and Paul’s unexpectedly here, earlier than usual, so we pop back out to Don Pablo’s – he eats and I drink a giant Dos Equis draft.

Back at the house once more, we chill out watching The Phantom Menace and I even doze off briefly, until about a quarter of 5. Then I throw on some work clothes, head over to Worthington Galena for a closing shift there. It’s a cake shift, John Sherman sticks around until 6 doing cleanup. Beyond that I do a crossword puzzle and shoot the breeze with Dan Hedges, who is closing seafood this time around. Then, most unexpectedly, Tommy Yanik of all people drifts through here, he’s buying some shrimp. We both do a double take.

“What the fuck you doin here?”

“Oh, you know, getting paid time and a half to stand around,” I tell him.

Home at 9, Damon and Paul both are here now. We listen to some Neil Young, embroiled into a big discussion about his work. Then at around 10:30, we shove off for campus. Two quick beers apiece on the patio at Panini’s, then it fills up with a fury and it takes forever for Damon to grab our third round. Sitting here in my khaki pants, green sweater, and light blue golf visor, I’m dressed lighter than either of my cold blooded colleagues – Damon literally has four layers of clothing on, and Paul, meanwhile, is wearing a full blown winter jacket.

“You guys can’t hang,” I tell them.

“I don’t have to prove my manhood by sitting out in the cold,” Paul replies.

But cold or no cold, we can’t stomach the thought of waiting half an hour in line each time our beers run low. So with a hop over the fence, we trod north up High to Out-R-Inn, which is considerably less packed and much more low key. Immediately, we run into Kristen Kapustar, who didn’t recognize us at first, and neither did we her with the exception of Damon, who flagged her down. And she subsequently chats with us for quite some time, even dispenses her elusive sister’s latest phone number as well as her own.

“I just met Eric for the first time last night,” Kristen says, meaning the dude Kara has been dating for nearly four years now. “I thought he’d be a real big asshole,” she adds, holds two fingers about 3/4 of an inch apart and concludes, “I was maybe this much off.”

Paul is bored and drifts away somewhere, though we continue talking to her. She mentions the last time she saw us, at the house with the panties on the kitchen wall on Summit. Our explanation now is that Damon was “majoring in interior decorating” at that time. Then she makes to leave with her friends, and I, under the impression for some reason that they’d just gotten here right before us, question, “after one beer?”

“More like six,” she corrects, right before sliding out of here.

October 20

Running errands, breakfast and paper, call Jill, home so I can write, over to her house at 6 with a dozen roses. Out to dinner at Olive Garden, her gifts for me – she’d gone shopping earlier today with her friend Jackie.

October 21

Jill wakes me up at 7:15 (says 7:30, but her clock is 15 minutes fast) and I throw on my street clothes. “I’ve got work clothes in my car,” I tell her. The little Chihuahua, Babe, is trying to get me to play with her & her stuffed pink pig toy. But the two of them see me out the door, instead, and I arrive at work 15 minutes early.

A fire in the parking lot of our complex, directly in front of our apartment, wakes Damon up at 5:30am. I happen to be spending the night at Jill’s house and miss all the fun. Someone had driven a car here and set it on fire before abandoning it. Damon went to my room to wake me up before discovering that I wasn’t even home, then ran outside, having had the presence of mind somehow to grab a camera. He and our neighbor at the end of the row, Tony, stood there and watched the blaze until the fire trucks arrived. Tony’s wife was able to move their car out of the way, but Damon’s truck was pinned in and he didn’t want to risk going that close to the blaze. But in the end, his truck was okay, and he ended up getting some pictures.

He comes in to where I work later that day, around 2, to tell me about it. Had been at the Music-Go-Round on Bethel anyway, and figured why not. He was trying to negotiate for an acoustic guitar he liked, but they only wanted to give him $150 for his trade-in, so he told them to stick it. An action packed day, all around – later, we meet up with some people at Roosters (a going away party that extends quite late and to multiple venues for those remaining), then he and Leah go see Junior Brown play at Southern Theatre.

October 22

After work, just needing to get out of there, I stop by Henderson Road store instead on my way home. And unexpectedly cross paths with Alison. I’d love to get involved with her again but it was cool just seeing she’s still around, I wasn’t even sure about that. She’s looking better than ever and the dyed black hair is a nice touch, too. All I actually needed here was some potato chips, a bottle of Captain Morgan, and Coke, but am mighty glad I stopped.

October 23

After work, I drive straight over to Jill’s. Get pulled over by a cop right in front of her house, but it’s no big deal. I’m in a curiously giddy mood (“vibrant,” Jill says), possibly as a result of emerging unscathed. We run to Burger King for a very late dinner and I spend the night there.

October 26

Leaving work, I bump into Jill on my way out. Lunch at Schlotzsky’s, running around changing table with her, then we head over to my house. Paul & Damon around, we all sit around watching World Series.

October 27

Ryan, Don and I hit Liberty’s. Sitting at the bar, Ryan’s got his head in his hands, looking down, some random chick approaches and says he looks sad, starts talking to him. Nothing really happens, though. I crash at the Yanik pad.

October 30

Work 8-1 at Worthington Galena with Tammie and Neil. Then closing shift at my store. Run into Ryan & Don outside when I’m leaving, head over to Jamie’s, we grab some beer at gas station & hit Maria’s place. She, Tommy, Ryan, and Don are sitting around watching Monday Night Football. We don’t stay long, go back & crash at Jamie’s, he’s talking my ear off even though I can barely keep my eyes open. I wake up in the middle of the night on that lumpy living room couch, which is so bad that I move to the hard ass floor.

October 31

Jamie’s mom is up early, bouncing around, and now she is talking my ear off – yet somehow I don’t mind this. Head into work. Home later, our phone is finally fixed after 20 days without service.

November 1

After work I head over to Jill’s. We eat at Cracker Barrel, catch Blair Witch 2.

November 2

Wake up at 7, shower. Jill’s mom is nice enough to have made me breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, o.j. and coffee. The latter of which I pour into travel mug & take with me as I zip along to work on this sunny, relatively warm morning. Jill had also handed me the latest issue of Playboy before I left – she signed me up for a subscription a year ago, as a gift (possibly thinking it might keep me preoccupied and less interested in chasing other girls? Just a theory), but then has them sent to her address. And if her mom finds them lying around, she throws them out.

After leaving Bethel at the end of my shift, I come home for a nap, then leave to go close at Worthington Galena. I leave late and the traffic’s insane, heading up I-71, there’s a bad crash at exit 140 and a suicide threat at exit 151. So the cars and trucks are backed up somewhat fierce. As a result I get there a half hour later than expected, at 5:30.

Slow night in seafood – I write about a page’s worth of a journal entry, read some (The Great Gatsby), pretty much finish a whole USA Today crossword puzzle and still have the shop scrubbed down, clean, well stocked and everything put away by 8:40. Dan’s behind in meat, though, so I waltz over there and help him out a bit, then just leave without a word said at 9. That’s when I was scheduled off, and I’d worked enough already today. So what if he was still behind & had a mountain of dishes to do, I can only help so much.

Back at the house and Damon’s home. He had gone to Shooters earlier with Maria and Maryland. It sounds like the latter is really digging him, she apparently told Maria to hook her up. So everything’s stacking up in his favor on that front. Maryland does work third shift, however, which is why he is already home.

We sit around drinking Captain & Coke, watching TV, discussing presidential race. He’s pretty drunk by the time he staggers off to bed at 1:30. I stay up quite a while longer, mostly writing.

November 3

Five of us end up at DiMarco’s in four separate cars – Maria, Maryland, Damon & Paul, me. Those two guys went to an OSU hockey game with Melissa earlier – but then she decided to hit Liberty’s with some friends instead of coming here. O, the treachery! Tommy & Ryan blow us off as well, to hang out partying at the house. But we have a really good time anyway.

November 5

I actually manage to squeak in one of my paid personal days off. Damon got inspired and did the dishes, which is an ongoing major battle for both of us. I head over to Jill’s late, teach her how to play the classic old card game Speed. It was good to see her laughing so much while playing this, and it is indeed a pretty fun game. She’s still only about 4 months pregnant, somehow, which means we’re going to have get mighty creative in devising entertainment, since going out for drinks is off the table. Some of the diversions are maybe predictable, others not so much.

November 6

After work Jill’s over here tonight instead. We hit her beloved Olive Garden, otherwise kick it around the house.

November 7

After strange work meeting, I head home for a nap. Then later drive over to nearby school to vote, return home where Damon and I sit around drinking and watching Dan Rather with his up to the minute election results. Clif, Maria, and Jill all call. Damon goes up to bed around 1 but I’m still glued to the set, with everything still up in the air.

When Jill calls, it’s around 12:30 or 1, and I’m admittedly kind of moody with her, kind of annoyed. I feel bad about this after the fact, but can’t seem to help it – I just typically don’t do well with pointless, on and on phone calls that drag on forever. But for these girls, of course, that’s their bread and butter. They will pick up the phone knowing you have absolutely nothing to talk about, for entertainment, hoping to hang on the line for an hour or more and discuss whatever just might happen to pop into your heads during that time. Brutal, brutal stuff.

November 8

Paul talks about coming down but ultimately doesn’t. Damon and I wind up over at Bowties. We meet this hot blonde named Cheryl and her okay brunette friend, who are digging us. Otherwise it’s dead here, though.

November 9

$572 paycheck, I’m happy and stop at Friday’s after work for a late lunch. Greg Dillinger is my server, we rehash old high school times. Come home, then Damon and I run over to Maria’s, to pick up her and Maryland. After Maria spends an eternity feeding her cats, that is. Don & Ryan are sitting around laughing and being hilariously obnoxious as the four of us head out for dinner.

Our destination is the Max & Erma’s at Kenny/Henderson. Terrible service here. I order Monstrous Combo, hear Damon whisper to Maryland “he’s not hungry,” in jesting reference to what I said a little bit ago. Everyone else plays it safer in the form of simple chicken entrees (Damon & Maria) or breaded chicken strips (Maryland.) I see Lisa Varner from work come in with some black dude, but don’t bother saying hi. Then run into a few familiar faces drinking ale at the bar, as we’re about to leave – Mike Juengst & Matt McCready are sitting together, and a few seats up from them is…Greg Dillinger!

“What, do you just switch back and forth?” he jokes, to me.

McCready has a beard once more, which suits him better than the “conservative” Matt of a couple months ago at BW3. Juengst is sipping soup and appears to be dealing with the same predicament as me and many others, i.e. going a little thin up top on the dome there. Then again my own haircuts have often looked quite stupid anyway and it would be a relief in many respects if it all fell out. I’m not sure about his take on the situation, however.

Maryland has to be to work so we run her home in Damon’s truck. He and I hit Rosie O’Grady’s for a bit, talking to the nice bartender Carrie & watch as she and owner George (guy with “ice skater hair”) argue with some Latino guy about the amount he’d been given in his shots.

Leave there, head up to Break-A-Way for two Captain & Cokes apiece while watching Hootie McBoob play. I feel like the barmaid intentionally pulls a fast one trying to overcharge me. Another night of going to bed at 3am…

November 10

…and then getting up at 7. After work, I come home laughing about needing sleep but knowing I won’t get it. Sure enough, Clif calls. At work some of us were attempting to coordinate happy hour at Roosters, but although that fell through, when I call Clif back, he and I decide to head up there anyway. Damon comes home, gets ready, leaves to go get Maryland.

I grab work clothes for tomorrow just in case, because who knows what might happen tonight. Over to Clif’s, drink a little Crown Royal there. Stop in at his Schlotzsky’s for a minute. Talk to Chris & Megan, then over to Roosters. Super killer sandwich here and 3 beers, talk to Chris & Megan some more. She says with apparent seriousness that she is going to “stalk” me, oddly enough.

My eyes are burning and contacts are blurry. Wine and cards at Alan’s place. Then Damon & Maryland show up & we slide off to Traditions, Steve’s tending bar. Tawnya says I should be an actor. Manage to lose my coat, though I’m not quite sure where – need to call Alan to establish this point. Left my OSU jacket behind at his place a year ago, this would possibly make two of them over there.

November 11

Daniel’s playing a chess tournament in Cincinnati, but he doesn’t call me until 7 and by then it’s too late to drive down there. Jill came over, intending on riding down to Cincy with me. Instead we just kick it around the apartment. Damon rolls through briefly before heading over to Maryland’s. Jill and I grab some to go dinner, en route for some reason to spend the night at her house instead. Watch movies, play five or six games of Speed, etc.

November 12

Jill is off today – we were supposed to take personal holidays together, but you know how that goes. Nixed on my end by management. They can’t do anything about your vacation weeks, which are filled out via a very rigid process at the start of the year, but they sure do like to fuck with your five personal days. Again we were planning on driving down to watch Daniel play and hang out down there, but by the time I get home from work, and call the hotel room, they’re telling me he already checked out. However then a short while later he unexpectedly rings me up, says he’s driving here to spend the night instead. Very cool, although it is majorly out of his way. We are up until about 2:30am drinking coffee, cranking music, and playing chess.

One killer checkmate of mine: he has his queen on F6, knight on F5 and my king is on G8 – Daniel is one move away from winning. But, with a rook on the G file, bishops on A8 and B8, I’m able to generate a windmill that knocks him out. His king is on G1, and I run down to put him in check:

1. ………..R x g2 +
2. K f1…..R x f2 +
3. K g1….R x Nf5 +

And then after this, I take his queen with my rook, etc.

Damon slides home and chats for a minute, tells us about his crazy weekend. He and Maryland had been over at Christine’s for some reason, and she called the cops because a neighbor stole a bunch of lawn furniture. And so on and so forth, insert your own jokes from here. He heads up to bed after a few, and we keep playing chess awhile longer. Up to the last game, which we are declaring a tiebreaker, we’ve pretty much split the matches to this point. And this final one is really dramatic, a tight knit game, until my late night weariness causes me to miss this bank rank mate that he drops on me after one careless move.

He crashes on the brown couch, but says he’s unable to sleep until about 5:30 in the morning. That his feet kept itching for some weird reason, except he couldn’t figure out why. We blame it on the crazy old “cough syrup” alcohol concoction that Damon made eons ago, still in our fridge, which Daniel was partaking of there at the end. But who knows, really.

November 13

He asked me to wake him up at 7:15 so he can start driving back to North Carolina, and I do. But then requests that I set an alarm for 8 instead before I leave for work. Then I return home to discover another pleasant surprise, which is that he never left at all. He found someone to cover his shift down there tonight, so everything’s cool.

“I don’t know who they had working tonight, ’cause everyone I called was off,” he observes.

Jill shows up and the three of us drive over to the Uno on 161, split a chicken portobello pizza. We return to the apartment, play a couple games of Monopoly, then Damon gets in and we switch to euchre instead. Two games of Jill & Damon against me & Daniel, which we split. Up until about 2:30 again. Daniel is knocking back more of the ancient “cough syrup” and doesn’t have any trouble with sleeping or with itchy feet tonight, so this kind of rules that out as a suspect.

November 22

Insane day. Work 6:51-4:48. Jill calls upset. I run up to Alum Creek with Damon, over to Maryland’s sister’s house, etc. Then to Gabby’s, Eldorado’s, home at midnight. Damon talking up a storm well after 2 in the morning.

November 23

And then Maryland calls here at 6 o’clock this morning. It’s Thanksgiving, though, and Jill waits until 10 before calling me. Which I’m still semi-agitated about, truth be known. But it’s cool. Dinner is at her grandparents’ place, then we head back to her house, crash there.

November 25

After work I call Alan to see if he wants to grab some brewskies or something. But he’s putting up Christmas decorations with Tawnya and regretfully must bow out. “I really want a beer,” he tells me, “but I can’t.”

And meanwhile it seems like everybody else is out of town. Damon and Maryland are at her grandparents’ house, the only person I can even get ahold of at the moment is Maria. So I decide to drive over there, but stop at Kinko’s en route to make some copies. Since installing the CD burner into my computer (surprisingly easy project) I’ve been busy piping in old cassette tapes and converting them. Tonight I print off 4 copies of some artwork for Goofy Guys “reissues” – this crapola has never been available on CD before! Get ’em while you can, kiddies! Prior to this, the original cassette tape was usually the only copy of something, period.

Maria’s babysitting Jordan (Christine’s kid) and they are putting up Xmas decorations when I arrive there. Then Jamie calls, so I slide over there to get him. There’s something in the air tonight, I guess, because his mom is…you guessed it, breaking out the Xmas decorations. At one point she’s bent over in front of me putting something up and I think she caught me checking out her ass.

Nonetheless he and I must leave her behind, as I drive us back to Maria’s. Then Damon & Maryland show up. Maria’s feeling sick and backs out, but the remaining four of us decide to hit Vinnie’s for last call. Drew’s bartending and we manage to squeak in one pitcher before quitting time. Molly is here and flashing her orange bra.

From here we split up. Damon & Maryland head back to her place, while I take Jamie home. He says I can crash on their brand new living room couch – a nice deluxe wraparound type, much better than those godawful “black hole” loveseats they had before, which were about impossible to sleep on.

Unbeknownst to me, after I fall asleep, he’s still up and starts making a pot of macaroni n’ cheese. But then passes out on the other side of the couch himself. So the next thing I know, it’s six in the morning and I’m startled awake by the sound of his mom screaming at him. She is waving this burnt pot in his face, the ground floor is covered in a thick blanket of smoke. Even though she opens the front door for some air.

“Jamie, this is the second time this has happened!” she’s shouting, “you guys could’ve died from smoke inhalation!”

Apparently the concoction was scorched to the point there were little macaroni sparks shooting out onto the stove. I know I look like an idiot to her, too, but again seriously had no idea he was even doing this. Hanging out with this dude is hazardous even if you’re playing it cool, if you consider this incident, or like Jacob just about shooting both of us in here this past summer. But I don’t know why, I just find him to be extremely entertaining. In measured doses, of course.

November 27

Jill and I both work early. Cracker Barrel for dinner, up to the mall to shop, crash at her place.

November 28

A nice productive day getting caught up on things. Damon and I head up to the bar later. Then get home and I send hilarious email to Robin. It’s a weird situation. We’ve both slept with her but he’s obviously not going to pursue it, not since he’s serious about Maryland now. So I might as well. You can never have too many projects.

November 30

Damon & I drive out to watch AJ Angelo play at Gatsby’s. But he stops at 11 tonight – we only get to see 2 songs. Driving home in rain after 4 Cap’n & Cokes apiece.

December 1

Jill comes over in the snowy afternoon, we both have the day off. Starving, eat lunch at Friday’s, hit a couple thrift stores. Watch Unbreakable at Easton, then come back to my place.

December 2

Wild night out with Lisa, Maria, and Clif. We start at this new bar on Dierker & Henderson. It’s much too bright in here for some reason, though they have a cool jukebox, and there’s this sizzling hot barmaid named Jessica. She’s very nice to talk to as well. We play two games of pool, and there’s this crazy kid over here talking our ear off, at one point he’s going on and on about “robo-trippin.” We have no idea what he’s talking about.

“There’s one in every crowd,” Clif observes, with a sad shake of the head.

After a couple rounds, we leave here. Clif is stuck riding on the right hand side of the backseat, which bothers him for some reason. “Aw man, I don’t wanna be child proofed,” he moans. Presumably he’s talking about rolling down the window, though it’s early December in Ohio and I’m not sure why this option would ever be in play.

On the way to DiMarco’s, Maria says, “hey Clif, you should hook me up with your one friend, the one that’s seeing the girl who’s pregnant by some other guy.”

Though I’m admittedly kind of laughing to myself, thinking, who, me? obviously she is talking about somebody else.

Clif: Which one’s that?

Maria: You know, that guy that was at your house that one night

Clif: (scratching his head) Oh yeah, his name is…uh…hmm…

Me: You guys are pretty tight, are you?

Clif: (laughs) oh yeah, we’re REAL close

Maria: well, you should hook me up with him

Clif: ah, actually, he’s all into coke and shit…

Maria: fuck that, then, I don’t need that shit

Clif: oh, I remember his name now, it’s Gabe Lincoln.

Upon hearing this, I nearly explode with laughter. But Clif insists, “no, I’m serious, that’s his name, Gabe Lincoln. I guess he’s related to Abe Lincoln somehow.”

We arrive at DiMarco’s. Jan’s behind the bar & some brunette I’ve never seen before. Packed, for some reason, and with an unusual crowd – young, college looking kids, unfamiliar faces for this place. A table full of hotties, even, for scenery. The four of us shall enjoy many rounds here – Maria drinks amaretto & 7, Lisa Coors Light bottles, Clif Corona bottles, myself Captain & Cokes.

Lisa starts talking to me about “watching movies,” which is basically a code. She only talks like this on the nights that she wants me (Author Note: although I actually have written in my journal, “no one else knows what it means,” in retrospect I very much doubt this. I’m sure it was always totally obvious to everyone what this meant.)

A hilarious fight breaks out between these sisters, though, over which one of them is more of a bum. Lisa, cracking up, tells us, “Maria’s only made $8,000 so far this year!” I try to employ a bit of diplomacy and say, “it doesn’t matter,” with a shrug. Maria meanwhile rips on Lisa for crashing and burning in Chicago on the employment front, to the extent she’ll probably be moving back here soon.

We leave the bar around quitting time, feeling pretty loose. Clif’s been talking all night about some Julie chick he says he’s been seeing. So we drop him off, then head back to Maria’s place. Tommy & Brea had been here earlier, but left, while we haven’t seen Ryan at all – he’s either in bed already or gone. Maria heads upstairs, while Lisa and I claim the living room.

December 3

Wake up at 7:30, lay around watching some ridiculous educational kids’ cartoon that is on the TV. When the alarm goes off at 7:50, I stumble out to my car all bleary eyed & drive across the street to work, with my windshield & windows iced over.

Tom Robinson calls, he’s a manager at Worthington Galena now instead of Dublin. Says they have no porterhouses or t-bones cut and are in dire need of some, so I agree to drive over there and help them. He said it would only take me half an hour to cut them, but I’m there from 4:10-6:10. I kind of like being everyone’s go-to guy a lot of the time, though, around this town. It’s just a little bit more job security, I think.

Chinese Buffet for dinner, fall asleep on the couch at 9. Then wake up at 1 and go to bed for real.

December 27

Another blowout on the way to work – it’s certainly debatable whether these used tires are actually saving me any money. Although I think there’s probably something wrong with my alignment or the axles or something anyway. Whatever the case, since I’ve already told Tammie I could work at her store tonight, it leads to a ridiculous journey just getting there.

And it takes much longer than expected, too. Via buses and some walking, I make my way from Henderson clear over to Huntley, but progress has stalled out here unless I care to hike the rest of the distance. So I dip into some business to use a payphone, call the store. Farisa sends someone over here to get me. By the time I show up John Sherman’s wigging out and appears to be cussing under his breath, probably thought I wasn’t going to make it and he’d be stuck closing.

Tonight that means I’m covering meat and seafood both, alone, too, after he splits. I duck out of here at 9:30, finally, and walk over to Gary’s Place, call a cab from there. Which despite waiting 2 1/2 hours and calling them 3 times, never shows. It’s not all bad news, however, as they have a hot blonde barmaid (short hair) and brunette one as well (long hair) and there are quite a few all-stars among the clientele, too. After giving up on this cab company, I call another one, run over to get a coffee, wait in the Gary’s foyer and they’re here in 20 minutes.

Pleasant ride home. Nutty girl at the ATM machine. Total comes to $15, I give the driver $20 and tell him to keep it. Robin has sent me a slutty email.

December 28

Jill okay, she and her mom drop off her car so I can borrow it.

December 30

Out with Amber tonight – she will admit to considering me stuck up at first, which is hysterical. Things are getting kind of outrageous, but I don’t feel like I’m doing anything differently. My life is just a shade more ridiculous than usual, but why would this be a good thing? What is wrong with these girls? Except it’s true that I kind of feel like the Manny Ramirez of functioning socially, or something, there’s this “see the ball, hit the ball,” mentality where I genuinely DON’T THINK about somebody unless they are standing right in front of me. There’s just no time! And I’m guessing these women are attracted to that for some bizarre reason.

December 31

Clif was supposed to be having a New Year’s party again. I’m borrowing Jill’s car with mine in the shop, and she was thinking about attending the bash with me. But I call her before picking her up at work at 10, as planned, and now things get a little heated, because I’m wanting to know if she’s actually going or not for various logistical reasons – if not, then I need to just drop the car off and walk over to Maria’s. That way I can ride with her to the party, crash there, walk to work myself in the morning. So it’s total mayhem and she doesn’t wind up coming with me.

And then plans change anyway. Instead of Clif’s, we all meet up at Maria’s. Then the entire mob goes out clubbing, except Jason, who’s of course underage and plans on just hanging out by himself at the apartment. And then something about this – I think I must just be fried, physically and mentally, between the non-stop social scene and the holiday madness at work – begins to sound really appealing to me, too, and I tell everyone screw it, I’m just going to stay here also. So he and I sit around drinking and watching 2001 in its entirety, until they all roll back in from the bar.