I Still Hate the T!

I didn't have enough time to vent about the sorry state of public transportation yesterday, because said public transportation kept me from coming in to work early enough to write about it. But I suppose I can't really blame the MBTA. Anyone who rides it with any regularity should know that if they need to be somewhere, they need to leave at least two hours early to account for the inevitable delays, switching problems, out-of-service trains, and other intangibles that make up the T experience. Sometimes I feel like I'm Mario, work is the Princess, and the MBTA is Donkey Kong, hurling barrel after barrel at me to keep me from my destination. That probably wasn't the best metaphor. Plus, now I've got that damn song stuck in my head.

Boston has the oldest subway system in the country. Given the amount of time they've had to perfect it, you'd think ours would be one of the most innovative and well-mechanized systems out there. Instead, it seems like they're still using the trains they had in 1897. At least once a day, the train stops dead on the tracks for a few minutes for a "schedule adjustment." There's been a few times when either the train ahead of us broke down, and ours had to push it to the next station, or another train was pushing my own disabled train.

It's been HOT recently. Hot and muggy. The other day, while I was slowly liquifying, Michele was quick to point out that "it's even hotter in South Carolina." Gee thanks, Al, now let's go back to the studio with Matt and Katie. I don't care if it's hotter in South Carolina. It's hotter on the sun, too, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm sweating like...um...some kid with hyperactive sweat glands. Yeah. They probably did a show like that on Dateline NBC once.

I brought that up because last week, for two days straight, I stood on the sweltering, un-air-conditioned platform under Park Street and watched as two Ashmont trains in a row pulled in. The trains are supposed to alternate between Ashmont and Braintree, but somehow another Ashmont train snuck in front of the Braintree one. Twice.

Even though I haven't compiled enough evidence, I'm seriously entertaining the idea that the T actually hates me personally. Park Street is the only stop on the Red Line where the doors open on both sides of the train. What else other than a personal grudge could account for the fact that no matter what side of the tracks I'm on when the train pulls in, the doors on the other side open first? It should be a fifty/fifty chance, right? But the doors on the opposite always open first. What did I do wrong?

Or how about last week, when I got to the platform to find a train sitting idle, with all the doors on my side closed and the ones on the other side wide open? I kept thinking about racing upstairs and coming back down on the other side before those doors closed, but I didn't think I'd make it in time. As it turned out, it stayed at the station with the doors open for two or three minutes, not counting however long it had been there before I got there.

But in all honesty, it's not all bad. Sure, the system has it's faults. And for whatever reason, I can't seem to read the paper and keep my balance at the same time. Every morning I awkwardly remove my hand from the railing, trying not to hit the heads of the overwhelmingly shorter population of the train, and try with surgical precision to turn the page. Most of the time, I end up dangerously close to toppling over and taking a few of my fellow passengers with me. But sometimes the T can offer entertainment that you just can't find anywhere else. Like me trying to read the paper, for starters.

I missed it last week when, on the heels of the bombings in London, the governor rode the T to prove that it's safe. He showed how in touch he is with us common folk by not even knowing the price of a token. "A buck," he said. When he found out it was actually $1.25, he chipped in another quarter and went on a ride from Park Street to Downtown Crossing. For you out-of-towners, not only is Downtown Crossing the next stop after Park Street, but it's probably the shortest ride of all the T lines. I don't see how riding the train for thirty seconds surrounded by bodyguards is supposed to prove anything. Romney is most likely running for president in 2008, so most people think it might have been a "political move." That might be the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Of course it's a political move, you meatheads! He's a politician! Everything they do is political, it's kind of their job. If a baseball team trades for a player, does anyone say, "I think that might be a baseball move"?

Oh, and for some reason, that weird lady with all the dead cats was there, heckling him. She was yelling, "You killed my cats!" Which may or may not have been followed by, "I wanted to do it myself, you big jerk!" My question is, what was she even doing there? It's like The Simpsons when they throw all the obscure characters into the crowd scenes. If Romney thought it was a PR disaster before, he must have really been embarrassed when Sideshow Mel and Bumblebee Man started laughing at him.

I've already told you about the bean bag kid and the crazy old man that asked some woman if she wanted him to take his shoes off so she could see his toes. But one of the weirdest things happened two Summers ago on the way home from work. The train stopped just a few hundred feet away from Quincy Adams. Every three minutes or so, a voice came over the loud speaker to let us know we'd be standing by for a few more minutes. Why were we sitting there, when the station was right there? People where getting visibly frustrated, whipping out cellphones to tell their loved ones they'd be late for dinner/soccer practice/whatever. Over in the corner, a stumpy little old guy sat quietly, taking his Metro newspaper and ripping it into strips. Then he ripped the strips again, and again, until he had a pile of newspaper squares at his feet. When he ran out of paper, he took the Metro sitting on the empty seat next to him, and started ripping that one up, too.

Eventually, I heard some muttering near the other end of the car and saw more and more people peering out the window. I turned around to see what they were looking at, and sure enough, I saw a cop running down the tracks, then a few more. I was sitting in the first car, so the conductor open the door to come out and tell us what was going on. He said the police were looking for a suspect on the tracks. He looked over at the guy with the pile of little newspaper squares in front of him.

"Why did you do that?"

"I was bored."

The conductor told him to clean it up, and went back behind the door. I went back to looking out the window. Every once in a while, a police officer would run past, but not much else was going on out there. I looked back over at the stumpy old guy. He looked like a Weeble. He hadn't picked up the newspapers like he was told. Instead, he grabbed the horizontal bar above his seat and started doing chin-ups.

Back outside the window, an MBTA cop climbed up onto the front of our train and got inside. He talked with the conductor for a while, who then came back out to give us an update. He opened the door and saw the Weeble guy doing chin-ups.

"Sir, get down from there."

"No."

"Sir, please get down, you're going to hurt yourself."

"Then I'll sue."

"You're NOT going to sue us, sir."

The Weeble guy got down, and while the conductor was talking to us, he made his way over to the double doors. He spent a bit of time opening, then closing, the compartment above the doors. When he got bored with that, he motioned towards the "Emergency Door Release" lever.

"Sir, don't touch that. Please stay in your seat.

I swear, he motioned like he was going to pull it anyway, but he sat back in his seat and pretty much stayed there from that point on.

I can't remember how long it was before we were able to pull in to the station. When I finally did get home, I turned on the news to see what was going on. Apparently, some guy robbed a bank and then took off on foot. We were stuck on the train because he was armed and they didn't want to risk anyone getting hurt. He was finally caught at Home Depot, which is right next to Quincy Adams station.

I've seen that Weeble guy before that day, and I've seen him a few times since then. He always seemed like a normal guy. But if he has to wait more than five minutes for the train to move... Bam! He turns into Margot Kidder.

So I guess sometimes the T can be alright. What it lacks in service, it more than makes up for in entertainment value.

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I Hate the T!

I've been perversely busy at work lately, so I wanted to get to work early today. I got to the platform at 7:05, just as a train was leaving the station. So I waited for five minutes for the next one, which pulled in already completely full. As it sat idle at the station for a few minutes, I noticed a herd of people headed towards the rear of the train. It seems there was one car left inexplicably empty that they graciously decided to open. It was about two-thirds full by the time I got to it, just in time to the doors close in my face.

Some time after 7:30, another train decided to show up. This time, I didn't have any trouble getting on, but it didn't matter, because I should have already been at work at that point. So much for going in early. I actually worked up a sweat, I was so aggrivated. Then I noticed everyone else was sweating to, and realized there was no AC in the train. Well that's just great.

If you've ever been on the highway in or around Boston, you've seen the billboards. Don't drive. Take the T. I think that's better than their original, more truthfull slogan, Why be late for work, when you can be late for work AND smell like 300 other people?

My stop is Park Street, and as I was getting off the train I heard over the loud speakers, "Last stop. This train is coming out of service. We regret any inconvenience this may cause." Hopefully, anyone who had to get off and wait for the next train to get to where they're going was at least able to get an air-conditioned car.

That's all I have time for right now. Please be sure to wish Michele a happy birthday. She's feeling kind of down today and I can't be there with her. I love you, baby! Even more than I hate the T.

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Hangin' In a Chow Line

There was a Good Times marathon on TV Land this weekend. I was still swimming around in my dad's pants when this show was on the air, so this was my first time seeing it. Anyway, in one of the episodes, the Evans' are standing around in the living room when the father tells the younger son to go to his room, to which the kid replies, "Dad, this is my room. Remember me, the kid that sleeps on the couch?"

I found that line rather interesting, not only because of the slightly uncomfortable feeling I got from laughing at a lower class black family, but also because I'd just spent two nights sleeping on my parents' couch. And it looks like I will be for the foreseeable future.

Wait. Let's back up for a minute. Remember last month when my grandmother was in a car accident? After that, it seemed clear that at 86 years old, she should really have someone living with her to take care of her. I asked my mom if she thought it would be a good idea if Michele, Brianna and I moved in with her. My mom agreed, and we approached 'Olly about it. We went to her house and explained how we could help around the house, cook dinner, and drive her anywhere she needed to go. I told her we could move our stuff into the basement, and all we'd need to do is seal it and put up a few walls. Brianna could sleep in the guest room across 'Olly's. She was all for it, even suggesting that we could move our furniture into the guest room and use the small room where she watches TV as Brianna's bedroom.

We stayed there overnight, and the next morning my grandmother told my mom how nice it was to have people in the house again and she hadn't slept so well in years. She went grocery shopping with my mom the next day and started buying all kinds of food. My mom asked her what it was for, and she said, "It's for the kids." My mom told her that we wouldn't be moving until August.

Once everything was settled, we told our landlord that we'd be moving at the end of the month. He said he just needed it in writing. So we drove over to 'Olly's house to do some more cleaning and let her know that we gave the landlord our notice.

"Oh...I don't know if I really want anybody living here. I'm so used to being alone."

"WHAT?!!"

She went on to say that she goes to bed at eleven and wakes up at eight. I still have no idea what that has to do with anything, but I know my chest started to tighten as she said it. She said she didn't want her taxes to go up, and that she forgets things, and to be honest, I don't really remember what else she said. I only remember feeling really uncomfortable. Michele and I took Brianna and went back over to my parent's house. My uncle, who as at my grandmother's house just before we got there, was talking to my mom. They were all talking in the living room and no one was talking to me or Michele. What the hell was going on?

We drove back to Quincy. I knocked on the landlord's door and told him that we weren't moving after all, at least not yet. Over those few days, we had become convinced that moving back to Weymouth would be the best thing we could do. Aside from taking care of my grandmother, it would really help us get some bills payed off. We'd be closer to a lot of things; Michele's work, my parents and my friends. And Brianna would be able to play with the two girls that live next to my parents. She's always over there whenever we visit, and it's good for her to have friends. She's so lonely at our apartment. If we lived over there, she'd have other kids to play with whenever she wanted. She'd have a bigger room, and she'd go to the same elementary school I went to. I was really excited about that one.

I called my mom and asked what happened. She said she didn't know. My grandmother most have overthought the whole thing. For some reason, she thought we were going to be putting an addition on her house and making all these changes. No one ever said that! I said we'd put up a few walls over the existing cement ones in the basement. That's not an addition, and you don't have to pay any more in taxes for it. And even if she did, we'd be the one's who would pay for it. We didn't even have to do anything to change her house; we could have slept on the floor. As long as we were there to make sure she didn't leave the oven on or try to feed the coyotes in the woods out back some Chef Boy-Ar-Dee.

None of it made any sense. One of her excuses for wanting to live alone was that she forgets things. That was the whole point of us being there in the first place! Somehow, she completely changed her mind, and ever since then, everything that could possibly went wrong, did. In droves.

Michele's car became a money-eating machine. For two straight weeks, it consumed several hundred dollars in repairs. It wouldn't have mattered if we were moving, since the last month's rent was paid for when we moved in. But we were left trying to scrounge up enough money for rent. My family has subtlety approached the topic of us moving in to my grandmother a few times, but it's always met with, "Well,...."

So this weekend we decided that the only thing we can do is put our stuff in storage and move in with my parents until we can get back on our feet. I'm going to go back to the landlord and tell him we really are moving this time. I'm really going to miss my bed. The new sleeping arrangements are going to take some getting used to. I'll be sleeping on the couch in the TV room. Michele's going to be on a different couch, partly because couches aren't big enough for two people to sleep on, but also because my dad threw a huge hissy fit when he found out Michele slept in my room one night when I was living there last year. I was a mere 25-year-old lad, so you can imagine the scandal. Brianna gets to sleep on a queen-size air mattress. I tried sleeping on it, but it killed my back. I'm okay with the couch. But I'm really going to miss my bed.

We spent the weekend there, getting used to the new conditions. On Sunday Nick, Hedie and Jose came over. We played a few rounds of Cranium, and Wah-Kee showed up a little later, just in time for some ribs. At dusk, which I don't think I get to say nearly enough, we played wiffle ball. Not real wiffle ball, it was sort of a make-up-the-rules-as-you-go-along wiffle ball. There were no bases, and no position players. Just a pitcher, a catcher, and someone standing in the outfield, i.e. a few feet behind the pitcher. We did eventually garb a newspaper to use as home plate, to make it easier to call a ball or a strike. We might refine it a bit next week, but the real reason I brought it up today was to point out that at one point, an easy pop up was missed by Wah-Kee in the outfield because he had a cigarette in his hand. Oh, and also, I'm a pretty good hitter, but I don't think I'll be pitching next week. Unless we want to go for some sort of hit batters record. In that case, I'm your man.

So anyway, for better or worse, I'll be moving back to Weymouth by September 1. At least I'll be closer to my friends. Except Nick and Hedie. After about five years in the chicken shack (with all of their wedding gifts in storage since April), they'll be moving by September...to Quincy!

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The Kindness of Strangers

I saw the light at the end of the hall, and I knew the elevator door was open. I also knew that by the time I got to it, the doors would close and I'd have to wait for it to cycle back down again. Well that's just great. Even though our building is only eight floors, it takes like ten minutes for that elevator to get back to the first floor.

But wait...as I got closer, the light remained. Maybe the person in the elevator heard me open the front door and was holding the elevator for me. As I stepped inside, I saw that there was indeed a man holding the "door open" button. Well that was nice of him. See, I knew there were still some decent people in the world.

We nodded at each other, and he let go of the "door open" button. After a few seconds, he pressed it again. No one else had come into the building. Then he pressed it a couple more times in rapid succession. I looked over and pointed to the "door close" button.

"Oh. thanks."

He wasn't actually being nice. He was just stupid.

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There Be Whales in Heaven

I've never sat through an episode of Star Trek, in any of it's variations. Actually, that's not true, I saw a few episodes of the old cartoon when it was on Nickelodeon in the eighties. I think it was on before Danger Mouse.

I got hooked on Star Wars as a kid, because Return of the Jedi was one of the first movies I ever saw in the theater. I was fascinated by all the different types of creatures up on the screen. Jabba the Hutt, the Gamorrean guards, the Rancor, Yoda...I'd never seen anything like them. And it didn't hurt that each and every character, even if they were on screen for all of .2 seconds, had it's own action figure. Jabba was on my bedsheets, Darth Vader and the Emperor were on my Burger King tie-in glass (which I still use), and 3P0 and R2D2 were on TV, warning of the dangers of smoking. Who knows, if it weren't for that PSA, I could be smoking out of a hole in my neck right now.

But I could never get into Star Trek. I don't know what it is, I guess the notion that all sentient beings in the universe look just like humans with slightly different forehead wrinkles is a little disappointing. It's kind of like how Lewis Black described his trip to New Zealand; after flying 22 hours to get there, the least the people could do is speak a different language. After traveling billions of light years, the least the aliens could do is have an arm growing out of their face or something.

Even though I never watched the show, I have seen most of the movies. The ones with the original cast, anyway. I saw IV and V (the one when they went back to Earth to save the whales and the one where God wants a spaceship) in the theater. I've always felt the strongest connection to Star Trek IV, because it takes place in the present. Having some ties to the present almost makes the audience feel like they're part of the story. That's how I feel, anyway. I was able to get into Farscape because John Crichton is a present-day astronaut that makes Simpsons references. He's easier for to relate to than, say, a fleet captain from hundreds of years in the future.

Anyway, as you must have heard by now, James Doohan, who played the Starship Enterprise's chief engineer "Scotty" on the original series and through seven movies, died on Wednesday. He was 85. Yestarday on WAAF, they played this song by Scotty's former captain as a tribute.

I saw Mr. Doohan in Boston a few years ago. Jose is a comic book fanatic, and I had nothing better to do, so I went with him to this big convention. He was there, signing autographs. But even then it was clear that his Parkinson's was taking over. His hand was too shaky to hold the pen, so he had someone else hold his hand as he signed. I felt so bad for the poor guy.

So today I salute James "Scotty" Doohan. Not just for saying one of my favorite lines from Star Trek IV, ("There be whales here!") but also for being on the shore on D-day as an officer of the Royal Canadian Army, and for having me convinced for years that he played Mr. Belvedere. Here's to you, Scotty.

And here's to me for avoiding any reference to "beaming up."


James Doohan
March 3, 1920-July 20, 2005

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The Best of Random Squeegee

First time here? Or maybe just a frustrated regular waiting for an update? Take some time to check out these tales of blogs past, lovingly separated into categories and given brief descriptions for your convenience. There. That should keep you busy.

Oh, and don't forget to comment on the old stuff. Every time you comment, an angel wins the lottery. Conversely, every time you don't comment, an orphan gets fed to wild dogs. I hope I'm not putting too much stock into the popularity of orphans.

School
Where dreams go to die...
Back in the Day - Tales from the halls of Thomas V. Nash Elementary School.
I Will Call You Betty - Layoffs, dead dogs, and a kid named Al.
Ten Years Gone - Part one of a depressing, two part saga!
Loss - The thrilling conclusion of the depressing, two part saga!
Bummer, Dude - A Nebraskan surfer just wants to fit in. Hilarity ensues.
I Wish Hulk's Love Could Bring You Back Again - Rocky Point's last stand.
Amateur Poetry Corner - A look into teenage John's mind.
One More - How about one more look?
Get Some Skills! - Kinda like Saved By the Bell: The College Years, except it doesn't suck.

Friends
The adventures of the people I hang out with. Have we ever seen a dead body?
Read on to find out!
Spleen Day - Meet Nick, the boy with no spleen.
The Secret of Bare Cove - Two paths diverged in the woods...and one of them might get you skinned alive.
I Fall to Pieces - Finally, I have an old football injury. I am now officially a man.
Hope You're Havin' Fun With the Bean Bag - It's Wah-Kee's birthday! And there's a weird little kid!
Superbowl XXXIX: The Untold Story - The most exciting part was after the game...
The Napkin - Jose gets Punk'd.
Solid Gold! - Wah-Kee throws Nick a bachelor party. Solid Gold.
It's A Nice Day to Start Again - Nick takes a wife.
Pantsless: A Story of Courage and Survival - Jose's left out in the cold.

Family
The adventures of the people I'm related to. Have we ever seen a dead body?
Read on to find out!
Just the Ten of Us - The family takes a trip to Williamsburg.
Extra! Extra! - I help Michele out with her newspaper route.
What's Taters, Eh? - Michele's sister comes to town.
David Alan Grier Screwed My Aunt! - This never would have happened if she went with Bruce Villance...
Word To Your Mother - Happy Mother's Day!
Not Track 5, Not Glenn's Prom Story - My grandmother gives us a scare.
Everything Old is New Again - The Williamsburg trip, as told by my mom.
Taste My Squirrely Wrath! - My grandmother witnesses the true nature of squirrel brutality.
Dr. G. And the Women - Glenn goes to the prom.
Hangin' in a Chow Line - I'm broke and I have to move back home! Isn't that great?
Scooter My Daisy Heads - My dad tries to retell stories. Hilarity ensues.
The Only One That Could Ever Reach Me - Brianna talks about a book she's reading.
Here's the Deal - More drama and a new car.
I'm the Dog Now, Man - Michele is mad.

All Things Joe
Consider my case for world's most annoying co-worker
The Tao of Joe - Part I: Joe-isms.
The Tao of Joe II - Part II: Learn to speak Joe.
Eminem Knows Joe? - Joe's famous gurgle noise gets radio play.
It Looks More Like Aztek to Me - Joe insists on splitting "mine" into two syllables.
Joe Rides Again - Tall tales from the office.
The Experiment - Fun with Joe.
Joe-kus - Joe-themed haikus. You've been warned.

Creepy Evil Thing
It wants my soul!
The Boogieman! - Something tries to kill me in my sleep!
Hypnagogic Hags - Something's still trying to kill me in my sleep!
Phantom Deli Meat - Do ghosts like lunchmeat?
Thanks to janey_13 for sending this article

Movie Reviews
I like to watch.
The Wollaston Beach Horror - Roundabout review of The Amityville Horror.
Whatever Doesn't Kill Me... - I saw Catwoman, and I'm a better person because of it.
Star Wars, Nothing But Star Wars - A Review of Episode III.
Cooter My Daisy Heads - The new Dukes of Hazzard movie was okay, but it could have used a bit more cowbell.

Personal Favorites
Everybody Likes Megan.
I Like Megan - Someone likes Megan. And spraypaint.
Holy Crap! - The Sox won, but who'll be in the inevitable movie?
Killer Hobos - Nate asks for some money.
Hell's Radio - A guy named Jabba tries to slowly drive me insane.
Requiem For Star Dude - Hedie shows my some papers her class wrote. I weep for the future.
I Gotta Have More Cowbell! - I watch some old videos on VH1 classic.
Wait 'Til Next Year - I got snubbed by the Bloggies! What gives?
She's Got it All - What the hell am I looking at?
A Chilling Glimpse Into the Future - John Titor's bleak future in which Paris Hilton destroys the world.
Here Comes the Scuzz - A generic toy's journey to the top of the toybox.
The Morning Thus Far (or, I Just Wanted a Bagel) - My quest for a morning bagel.
Something Stupid This Way Comes - Can't we all just get along?
I'm Back - Who the hell is Rodney?
I Hate the T! - Self-explanitory.
I Still Hate the T! - Still self-explanitory.
I'm J. Peterman - Snubbed again.
Joey Bag O Donuts Smells Like Egg Nog - Bud has donuts.
Coyote. Shaken, Not Stirred - Mooney does it again.
MySpace Your Space, MySpace Your Space - I get a MySpace account. And spam.

Not Necessarily the News
Sometimes stuff happens. And sometimes I write about it.
Yessir, Arafat - Arafat dies, then comes back to live, then dies again.
Another Malfunction - The whole Desperate Housewives debacle.
Hannibal Lector's Chili Cook Off - A woman claims she found a finger in her chili. Oh, and hilarity ensues.
There Be Whales in Heaven - He's dead, Jim.
Changed His Name Again, Diddy? - Puffy gets a new name. Again. Will Nintendo file a lawsuit?
Last Minute Plea - The Crips lose one of there own.

The Headset Affair
I should have just hung up
Hello, Boss! I hate telemarketers.
Sometimes They Come Back - This thing won't die

Giant Floating Heads
Giant floating heads
And Now For Something Completely Different... - A giant floating head just wants to be loved.
Rebuttal - Another giant floating head begs to differ.
Back in the Ring to Take Another Swing - Amazo anwsers a meme.

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Dr. G & the Women

This is Glenn. Back in May, I discovered he's got the ladies all over him. He sheepishly downplays it, but he's gone out with more girls than I ever did. I guess that's not saying much, but...actually, I don't know how to finish that sentence without falling into a deep depression.

Anyway, I've only heard bits and pieces of the story, such as going to the prom with a 15 year old girl he hardly knows, and some possible back-stabbing among friends. And he likes two different girls named Abby. Compelling stuff. After a month or so of constant nagging, I finally got him to talk. So here's his story...

Hey, sorry I took so long. I was out destroying my relationships with women. Which isn't hard at all, because I have no clue what they're thinking. And that's really not fair, because I know a lot of them. But I don't know, maybe it's getting better.

At the beginning of this year, there was this girl I liked a lot, Abby. One of my best friends, Jay, who had been turned into a manslut by his first girlfriend, knew I liked her and asked her out anyway. After about two weeks, he got "tired" of her and dumped her. What a [unpleasant person]. I was trying to get with her and he throws her away, completely shutting her off from dating. Thanks, buddy.

His latest girlfriend, Jenn, has been around for 3 months. At least she was, he recently dumped her, got back together, and dumped her again all within 3 days. None of us know why. But anyway, she set me up with her friend for the prom. Since I was unlucky in finding someone on my own, I accepted. Her name was Mary. She was what we kids would call Emo, which is basically diet Goth. She was pretty cool. What sucked though, was that she's best friends with the only girl I've ever kissed. And what a bad experience that was. She was a full-on Goth, whose mouth tasted like she never brushed, ever. So yeah, my first kiss, wasted on sour milk. Just great. Oh, she was also a 15 year old pill-popper.

Prom was fun. We had a sweet red Chevy limo. We were all going to wear zoot suits, but Brett was the only one that ended up doing it. He actually bought the suit. I had a hat, but that was about it.









Our cool factor significantly decreased when we accidentally drove to the wrong prom. We wanted the building right next to where we were. But we felt better after hearing that most of the other kids did the same thing.

Mary was a vegan, which I had failed to mention to the administration. So she ate bread and nothing else, which I felt sorry about. I felt even worse about putting butter on her bread. I just wanted to see what she would do. Ha, she flipped.

Mary would disappear for random intervals, so I sat out on some dances. When I heard some of the popular girls call Abby a slut at the dance, I stood up for her. Nothing too drastic, because I didn't want to face their jock meat slab boyfriends.

The rest of the night was fun. Post prom was good too. it would've been better if it wasn't Western themed though. How did that win? I personally chose the jungle theme. That would've been interesting. When post prom got out at around 5 in the morning, we all headed to my place for breakfast, then hours of sleep. When I awoke, Mary's mother had picked her up, and left a bowl of eggs for me. Strange, but practical. Everyone loves eggs...well, except Mary, but whatever.

I still keep in touch with all of them. There was some interesting stuff with Jenn a while back. It appeared she asked me if I liked her. But I guess it was one of her friends from work. And at one point, I think it was Jay. He had been using her AIM to see who she was talking to. Obsess much? He also monitored her cell phone, and deleted all my comments to her on her myspace. But his was saved on mine, so I just deleted his stuff.

I've done a few things with Abby too. Her, some friends and I went cosmic bowling, which was awesome. The strobe light only turned on when she was up, which pissed her off. At some point during the night, I spilt my drink on her shirt. I was jokingly doing it, but it actually came out. I have no coordination. So she scooped up ice and rubbed it down my back and chest. Then her, my friend Brett and I went to my place and watched Anger Management.

As we reached my house, I kind of fell out of her car. I thought she would stop, she didn't think I would fall. It didn't go well. But during the movie, she ripped the "do not remove" tag from a pillow Jenn had left over, and these little beads spilled everywhere. God, they stuck to everything. Brett was rolling around in them like an idiot. But give him a break, it was 2 in the morning. Around 3, they both left.

The following day, I asked Abby if she wanted to go out. She said no. But here's the strange thing, we went to see Dane Cook at the South Shore Music Circus, then I bought her dinner. Now, wouldn't that be considered a date to most people? Dinner and a show? Anyway, the show was great, and we ate at Wendy's. That was her idea, I had $80, we could've gone anywhere. After "dinner", we drove through Hull. She gave me a pseudo-tour of the town. When we got to the ocean, we stopped and looked at the reflection of the moon on the water. Come on, how is that not a date?! Maybe she just didn't want to call it that, because of what happened before. Everyone says we would be good together, even she did. So, I don't know.

My friend Jon has a girlfriend we all despise. Funny sidenote: he dated the sour milk girl I kissed, who originally was stalking Jay. That's how I met her, he threw her at me. Isn't he a great friend? His current girlfriend, Diane had a party, which wasn't that good. However, there were a lot of girls there, sucking on phallus-shaped lollipops. So that was cool. Brett and Jay were there too, and two of the girls were really flirty, but didn't want to cheat on their boyfriends. I forget how, but we wound up watching them make out in the back of Brett's car. Before you think we're sickos, it was their idea. Since then, I've actually become friends with one of the girls. And she's even trying to set me up with one of her friends. Sweet deal.

There was another girl I liked, also named Abby. She was cool. She drove me home a lot. Sometimes she'd buy me a coffee from Marylou's. It was the only coffee I've ever had to this day. But I stopped hanging around her because her boyfriend always gave me the worst stares. And he knows karate. She entered my life in a time of slight depression, which is why she meant so much to me. If she didn't have a boyfriend every time I would've told her. But I think she knew. Her sister's friend knew right away.

After graduation, things changed a little. The first Abby's been busy lately, and, the girl (from the car)'s friend is going to go out with me. Some other friends are going too, to make things more comfortable. Let's see how this goes...

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Taste My Squirrely Wrath!

Whenever my friends get together, it's usually at Nicks house. Dating back to high school when his old house was right next to the school, it's sort of been our unofficial headquarters. We all hung out at my house a couple of times, but it never really took as a hangout spot.

That all changed the day I moved out and my brother Glenn took over my old room (with most of my stuff still in there.) Now there's like five kids crammed in there at any given time. They bring their girlfriends. They stay the night. My old room is now the place to be.

The other day, a bunch of his friends came over. Somehow, my grandmother made her way into the middle of the pack, and they all came in together. Since the 18-year-olds towered over her, she pretty much got in the house undetected, until she spoke up.

"Oh, you have a lot of company."

My brother and his friends disappeared into his room for 36 hours, while my grandmother shuffled over to couch and sat down to talk to my mom. She was very distraught.

"Well, I was outside feeding a little bird, and a squirrel came over and ate it right up. It didn't leave anything, not even the legs."

My dad, who was bringing my mom a glass of milk, did everything he could to stifle his laughter so he wouldn't spill the milk all over the place.

"A squirrel ate the bird?"

"Yes. It ate the whole thing right in front of me. There was nothing left."

"Are you sure it didn't just fly away?"

"Deb, I was standing right there, the squirrel ate the bird."

"Squirrels don't eat birds."

"I'm telling you, this squirrel ate the bird. Legs and all."

My parents said they couldn't stop laughing about the thought of killer squirrels. My dad said he saw a gray cat later in the day, and that's probably what she saw. Personally, I think she was throwing bread at a pile of leaves the whole time, like Mr. Magoo.

If you're here from SouthofBoston.com, welcome! Be sure to check out the archives. I planned on adding a "Best of" section over the weekend, but something shiny distracted me and I forgot. For everyone else, I'm one of ten finalists in SouthofBoston's Battle of the Blogs. Starting today, they have a link to my blog so people can check out all the finalists. The judges will be looking at the comments, so ...I don't know...be profound.

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