Thursday, October 02, 2008

Witz Pickz: Once More Into the Breach...

I know, I know, "What happened to Witz?" Did I decide that my running diary on Bee Movie was the pinnacle of my writing and no more posts were required? Nearly, but that wasn't it. Did I re-read all of my posts, laughing less and less as I realized the horrors of my own life and redundant shame spirals? Nope, not there yet. It's all much more simple than that-- I got busy, and I got sick.

I got busy through work and through awesomeness like

Playing a Skate Park Opening in Sebastopol, California:
Sebastopol is a small town outside Santa Rose, California, which is a small town outside of San Francisco, California. Everything you imagine about the town is probably true. When we got to the skate park, we found three things to be true 1) You could add up the ages of any five people there and they still wouldn't be as old as us 2) Skateboarders of any age are still cooler than us 3) This was a town event. The mayor had been there earlier, and we were slated to play for the slew of teens and pre-teens around 3:30pm. We wandered into the skating area and were immediately greeted by a small child charging across our path with blood EVERYWHERE. We all did the obligatory, "AIDS!" step back and then watched as a panicked father charged toward the kid and the tent. Moments later, the alleged father happily walked away from the tent, announcing to his friend, "That's not my kid! You scared me!" Cue the "Real American Hero" music now. We made a note to dedicate one of our songs to the Absentee Parents of the Bleeding Child at the Med Tent.

Once around the lot and we were ready for some drinks and food. We circled up and decided we'd like some liquor and some sandwiches. Two quick right turns later, and the city of Sebastopol delivered with the almost comedically titled, "Liquor and Deli." The sandwiches were delicious, the drinks were good, and we were ready to rock some teens faces off. And so we did:

Make sure to watch these on the "high quality" mode to the bottom right of the frame.
A Victory Nonetheless - Cookie Jar
A Victory Nonetheless - Bailey Black
A Victory Nonetheless - Agrocrag
A Victory Nonetheless - Ric Flair Saves the World (Sebastopol) and Wasted

A HUGE thanks to Nick, Paller, Patel Me No Lies, and Mark for driving up to the show.

Hello Leslie's Bday Fiasco:
Hello Leslie's birthday was Sunday, and Saturday night we celebrated like the spritely, easily healed teenagers that none of us were. The night reaffirmed my belief that I a) know awesome people and b) tend, when drinking, to end up in conversations with cute girls without having ANY IDEA how I got there or what I'm saying. I'm pretty sure I kept repeating the sentiment that "Good people are good," for a while. We also ended up at a late night diner, eating grilled cheese & fries while I spoke exclusively to the two couples next to us and informed the girls that, "your guys HATE ME right now!" I knew I was a people person.

Don't worry though, the topper of the night came when I was Frankensteining it home (i.e. walking furiously with completely stiff limbs, letting momentum and luck lead me home) and was joined by a girl who decided that the best idea in these circumstances was to make conversation with me. I need to emphasize how dark and rapey my neighborhood is. I need to emphasize how 2am-ey the night was, and how batshit crazy I must have looked. Apparently, though, rapists and murderers don't wear shirts with french cuffs, which honestly, is a pretty fair assumption. She started talking: Where was I going? Where did I work? And then the kicker, "Are you Jewish?" Yes. "You should meet my roommate-- she needs to meet a good Jewish guy." Wow. What a standup roommate! I can't even imagine the horrible horrible guys that this girl's friend must have dated, if a Frankensteinian, google-eyed, 2am, non-practicing, curly haired wanderer constituted, "A Good Jewish Guy." I assumed the entire thing was a dream, until I woke up in the morning, like in so many movies and fairy tales, and found the girl's business card tucked into my pocket. The answer to your next question is No.

Other than being busy, I've been sick. In fact, I'm sick right now, and decided instead of annoying the hell out of everyone on gchat at work, I should probably put my house-ridden insanity to use right here.

Being cooped up in a house for 3 days with no one to talk do does wonders for your creativity. Like always, I started out by watching House episodes to try and find cures for myself (far superior to WebMD). Unfortunately, I don't think I am the recipient of any recent transplants, and my symptoms pretty solidly suggest that I have a cold (which is JUST what NOT A COLD would want me to believe!). Moving on, I started tweaking on vitamins and cold medicine so that while I lay in a half-sleep, coughing, congested daze, I was able to think about such things as, "Which pair of shoes is most likely to come to life and kill me in my sleep?" The answer, incidentally, is my Self-Loathing Homosexual Penny Loafers, which I haven't worn since high school and have stuck behind another couple boxes beneath my dresser. Next, I had some brilliant insights like, "Why do they have dayquil and nyquil, but no napquil?" and, "it shouldn't be called a comforter if you wake up beneath it sweating like you just ran forty miles across a desert in a wool unitard."

Eventually, I fell asleep which was awesome, because who hasn't wanted to dream that the cat that lives in your house can talk, and is trying to kill you, and that, in case this psycho cat isn't enough, your house is scheduled to be shipped to New Jersey in a week, so you better find a new place to live or start loading up on warm jackets (and the aforementioned comforter)? Oh, yeah, and Red Sox fans, I've experienced the next two games of the ALDS in Oliver Stone-like clips, and let's just say that the voice-over announcers who set the scene for me are very confident.

I'm growing a "sick beard" which is like a "playoff beard" only instead of being lucky, it's just lazy. I think I've just about discovered the maximum number of pillow configurations that I can have with my two regular and two memory foam pillows (which both seems and IS too many pillows for one twin size bed). Just looking at what the memory foam pillows have remembered gives me chills when I see them in the morning, or maybe that's the shockingly hot/cold breeze that is simultaneously cooling me down and making me sweat feverishly. There may or may not be ants on me. I occasionally start to sing invented alt-country tunes. I am CONSTANTLY considering starting to watch the DVD box sets of The Wire that one of my roommates has. I am both furious and perturbed by the fact that our toilet paper is softer on my nose than my kleenex. The books that I have in my bookshelf are not remotely a representation of myself, but more so a representation of everything I am not (they are all the books I HAVEN'T read yet...). The number of bottles of wine I have in my room and shirts I wear to work are equal. My poker chips are called, "Professional Poker Chips" but I don't think I'd be allowed to use them in a casino. My "Right Guard Anti-Perspirant/Deodorant" claims to be a "Stealth Solid" when all this time I've assumed it was simply "clear." And most importantly-- how can there be SO MUCH EUCALYPTUS in my backyard and NO KUALAS IN SIGHT???

Got Me Lookin' So Crazy Right Now, Got Me Hoping You'll Save Me Right Now,