Elevator Music

The only thing more boring than elevator music is the conversations that you hear two people having on the elevator. It used to be varied boring conversations, but now they are all the same. People whining about the Yankees. It's unbelievable how everyone around here seems to be emotionally invested in this team. During no other sports season (Football, (Hockey), Basketball) did anyone ever make a peep about an athlete. Now everyone is talking about this hex that is on the Yanks. Who cares? Baseball is boring. It's the only sport where you can actively talk about other things and not concentrate on, and completely catch everything that is going on. It is such an uninvolved sport. I'm guessing that's why so many people love it.

The other thing about the elevator that annoys me is that people have an obsession with pushing buttons. I love the 'Close Doors' button on the elevator here. It's very obviously a placebo. It doesn't light up, and the doors never close any sooner if you bang on it. But every time someone steps in, they'll press it two or three times. People also tend to hit the buttons to floors if they are already lit up, if that's their destination. Stop doing that.

And finally, it's been a rough week for my mom. She saw my brother's name in the Rockville Centre Herald police blotter as he was picked up for an open container. No big deal, but I'm sure she was absolutely embarassed at work. However, and most likely far worse, my younger bro went to a Jamaican bar last night, despite having work this morning. My mom found him passed out on the sofa downstairs with vomit 'all over' at 5 am. I'm sure she exaggerated the magnitude of this event, but still, poor mama. She thought her sons were all grown up. Hopefully I'll manage to stay out of too much trouble this weekend. If a third alcohol related incident occurs within a one week period, I can't imagine she'd be anything but irate.

Maybe I'll take it easy this weekend.

Probably not.

People are Weird

Today on the Subway into work, I realized something that I was hoping wasn't true. Every day there's this middle aged Asian man plugging away on his calculator. I was always hoping that he was playing a game, or something, anything, other than what he is doing. I peered over his shoulder as he was sitting down, and this man was just multiplying two random large numbers. He would get an answer, look at it for maybe ten seconds with a look of deep thought on his face, and then repeat the process. What in the world is going through this person's skull? Is this fun for him? He does this every day. Or at least, every time I've seen him for the last 6 months, which is quite often. What a total weirdo.

I can't imagine that this accomplishes anything productive. The man also is looks around every once in awhile to make sure no one is watching. Boy, did I fool him. I'm on to you.

In other news, the financial district has smelled funny the last couple of days as the weather is warming up. I can't put my finger on the odor, but I don't like it. I hope it's not just the smell of people dressed in suits walking around in the hot sun stinking up the joint, or I'm in for a long summer. It may also be simply the smell of all the garbage produced by the millions of people around here rotting in the heat. Please be something other than these two alternatives. Something temporary.

My weekend was enjoyable, as I managed to find a beirut game each night and then made it out into town to play pool. Although in beirut I sported a hefty winning percentage, my pool game was akin to taking a big dump on the table. Maybe next time I should play pool first, and then beirut.

Anyway, it's Tuesday and I'm ready for the weekend already. I think I have something planned maybe. Is the Belmont Stakes next Saturday? If so, I think someone asked me if I wanted to go to that. I kinda do. But, I probably won't.

Enter the Blog

I never thought I'd be the Blog type. Senseless info about a persons day to day life that couldn't occupy more than a single exchange in a normal conversation is somehow blown up into a thesis statement for the day, chocked full of pet peeves, innuendo, and life lessons. These things really, kinda, sorta annoy me. But . . .

EVERYDAY AT WORK I GET SO BORED THAT I HAD TO CREATE THIS MONSTROSITY.

Now that that's out of my system, I'll fill you in on the scoop. Spreadable Cheddar? What the hell is that. Well, obviously, spreadable cheddar cheese. Fantastic. But, more importantly, if I was in a band that was what it would be called. Even if I were the drummer or some other member that has absolutely no naming power, I'd make it happen. At the end of a concert, I'd scream into the Mic, 'Thanks a lot for coming out, we're Spreadable Cheddar' even if we weren't. Until we were.

However, this ambition to be a part of something called this is trumped by my severe lack of musical talent. In fact, I lack any talents that would allow me to be a part of any group that had a name. Hence, the blog.

Congrats, you've just wasted the last minute of your life. At the very least, take solace in the fact that this took me 5 minutes to write.