Saturday Night Lullaby

Greetings from Long Island!!

Have a fun and safe Saturday night.

Remember don't drink and drive. Designated drivers are sexy. :)

Ohhhhh Billy. What else could I play . . .

They're sharing a drink called loneliness

You're not my teacher

But if you were . . . this song might have applied to you at some point.

The best read in a while, A Perfect Mess: The Hidden Benefits of Disorder

For Alison Wonderland, Ruby Dee's first play was "Alice in Wonder." :)

I'm going to NYC for the next few days!!!




If you care . . .

I do chalk most up to coincidence, but if you're helping any of that along I'd really just like to be left alone. Burn the net please. Save face, it's cool.

P.S. And while I'm used to cutting out for a multitude of reasons . . . I'm really just upset I never got the chance to tell you how I feel. It wouldn't have been perfect, but I really wanted to try.

It was directed by his brother . . . come on now.

People always like to categorize themselves into groups in hopes that they'll be understood. This is crap. If someone won't spend time with you . . . they won't understand you. I understand it's easier to have some sort of discussion prompt, "Oh hey the Boss is a real jerk." "Did you understand what the Professor said?" "How about those Pat's?" etc. I think, again, this is bull shit. Some of the people I love hanging out with the most, I have the least in common with. When you work with someone or go to school with someone you get a chance to bond. If you don't well . . .

That being said, my friend from NH and I have heavily debated this next topic sitting in traffic in Boston (the only time things like this should really be debated, when you have nothing better to do) . . . there were two camps of kids growing up . . . kids who payed homage to The Karate Kid and kids who payed homage to the lesser known, Sidekicks. The former came out almost a decade before and I will give in to my friend's first argument, that Sidekicks very, well may be a cheap roundhouse-kick knock off of The Karate Kid. But I don't care. Jonathan Brandis (yes the cutie from The Never Ending Story II) was a huge crush of mine. I looked forward to seeing him each week on Sea Quest. His posters had a place next to my Omri Katz posters. Oh how I miss Bop magazine and the 5-7-9 store (Who remembers that place?).

Here are the rest of the arguments

Jonathan is cuter than Ralph.

Sidekicks has Mako AND Chuck Norris, but yet I will agree, even combined they will never trump Pat Morita. Never.

Danika McKellar and hot Asian, teacher babe, Julia Nickson-Soul kind of beat out Elisabeth Shue. Admit it, cute, sassy Winnie Cooper + hot cougar exotic Asianness = far more wet dreams than the girl next door route.

Every kid had day dreams about their heroes. Even though the movie "critic" I'm about to show you shits all over that, Sidekicks makes those dreams a huge part of the movie, and I respect the movie more for it.

Sidekicks was actually a movie for Chuck Norris. And I'm okay with that. It was directed by his brother, I mean come on now.
Let me explain my love of Chuck Norris. He's ridiculous. He's absolutely fucking ridiculous . . . and I don't think he has any idea. I watch Walker: Texas Ranger and die of hysterical laughter. Has anyone ever noticed that Chuck's favorite way to enter a fight scene is cowboy boots first? It's fantastic.

In all actuality The Karate Kid is a better movie (script, acting, directing . . . etc). That's probably why it was never on the shelf of VideoCraze by the time my brother and I got there. But Sidekicks always was--- it was a sure thing. And when you're like . . . 10, you kind of don't give a shit about the things everyone tells you, you should care about. But Chuck Norris was still ridiculous. Again, he's the only one not in on that joke (well him and the whole mid-west, that is). Snark attack!!!

This guy is pretty hilarious.

And my friends Walker and Texas Ranger would like to finish the blog post for me.

Laura Marling

I love Laura Marling . . . her "love songs" are honest.

The Ten Minute Hustle

Look, I've provided a bit of insight on this blog before as to how to be a better consumer. Most people (and I whole-heartily believe this) don't want to be an asshole. I think every now and then we get so wrapped up in our own lives we're completely unaware of how our actions may seem to others. Like coming into a store right before they close to "browse." It's cool if you know what you want, or you're just doing a return and you have your shit together. Regardless, ten minutes before we close is my favorite time of the night. We like to pick customers (especially on a beautiful Sunday like yesterday) and basically be a haunt. I may come right up next to you and ask you if you need help looking for anything, I may even casually drop a few hints that the store is about to close. I'll start tidying up all extra around you . . . basically I make it so uncomfortable to shop, you'll want to leave. But it has taken years of practice to become tactful about it. And I don't answer questions in depth. My favorite answer (and I'll say this to any question) is to just say what time we open the next day,

"Excuse me could you tell me what kind of Juicy Couture stuff you have in?"
"9:30."
"What?"
"We open at 9:30 AM tomorrow for your Juicy shopping convenience."

By that time you're so stunned you usually just walk away. Or I pretend not to hear you. I have no problem doing any of this to complete strangers. I don't care. I'll tell friends and family (I've kicked my own mother out before) to go home and get a life . . . kidding, well only 1/2 kidding of course. But most people understand and just don't stick around that late. Then there are the awkward few, who by social constraint you're obligated to be nice to but . . . you don't really know them well enough to tell them to get lost so . . . you're stuck. This happened to me yesterday so I decided to send a newbie out on the job. What a disaster, but in a funny way.

I was knee deep in bathing suits when I heard a customer clink two hangers behind me. I turned and was about to do my too close for comfort move when I realized who it was. Hmph. Doesn't matter who, it was just one of those in between folks that if I did my normal routine I'd probably hear about it later so I just decided to let it go. But then I got fucking annoyed. I want to go eat pizza after work and catch up on True Blood. Get the fuck out. So I call over this girl that's been here long enough to begin her training in the "Ten Minute Hustle." As I'm trying to explain how to go about kicking people out, the customer moves, and then the new girl wants to know why I can't do it (it really is one of my favorite things to do at the end of night because I'm kind of mean like that) and then we have to get into that and then she keeps asking who and we fight over the customer's hair color, the whole time talking about the customer like she's not within earshot, finally the customer's on her way out (way past the point we'd normally bother with) and the new girl yells, "Go home!!" and waves her fist in indignation at her. Priceless.

Oh yeah, moral of the story, don't go shopping in a store about to close. Trust me, if you don't know what you need, you're not going to find it in ten minutes. Let it go.
And we open at 9:30 on weekdays and Saturdays, and now 10 o'clock on Sundays for your bathing suit shopping convenience.
Peace,
C.M.

Scratch the first

Now this is a Saturday Night Lullaby

Saturday Night Lullaby

aaaaaand this one for shits and giggles.

Happy 4th!!!

Until you make it complicated.



Some little kid in my store was singing this yesterday. The best.



Gimme one reason.



The third . . . chair.




Happy 4th of July!!!

I'm on a boat . . .

They got a copy of Mark Twain's "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," which neither of them had read.

Even I know they should have got a copy of Twain's Life on the Mississippi. D'oh!!

Read the whole article here.

But attempting (yes key word "attempting") something is better than not having tried at all.

Vending Machine Etiquette

My views on welfare summed up with a story on vending machine etiquette.

Vending Machine Etiquette was started by women . . . sorry fellas. It comes from being short on time, grabbing a dollar out of your purse and not having pockets to put the change in. So the change left over from the dollar went on top of the vending machine in the front RIGHT corner. Please note that when jostling machine to get Smart Food Pop-corn and Kit Kat Bars (those two things always get stuck) be sure to replace fallen change. Over time as the price of the snacks went up, the less likely it became people had enough "spare" change to cover it. People had to become planners when it came to break time, or in some instances, even hoarders keeping piles of goodies hidden in Fitting Room drawers guarded by watchful old ladies or in secret compartments built into cubicles that only the chosen few knew about. Break time became almost stressful, you always had to make sure you had a dollar for the machine, or even worse, enough change. I mean "break time" means "take a break from the stress." Water coolers were invented to give people a chance to cool their nerves and talk about Ryan Seacrest trying to high-five a blind contestant on American Idol.

God forbid all you want are some Hot Fudge Sundae Pop Tarts or Reeses Pieces and you get a Canadian coin in the mix, you're fucked. Or the machine starts to suddenly only take exact change and you're standing there with your Mr. George Washington. Nothing can ruin your break from the stress of the day like being denied your treat. Another reason why women get to take the credit for Vending Machine Etiquette: P.M.S. aka Positively Must-have Sugar. The topic of food cravings and women will go on a mental post-it note and be written about at a later date. However, anyone who really understands women will understand when a food craving arises . . . get the fuck out of the way. To sum up, it's not that I'll die if I don't get that Muskateer bar, but someone will, probably the first person to cross me whether they deserve to be killed or not. This is why the existence of an extra dime or nickel readily at one's disposal is a reassuring thought in an all-too often uncertain world. You can't plan for EVERYTHING and telling yourself you shouldn't want or can't have those blue M&M's doesn't take the desire away. It just makes you want them more!!!

So the average price for something in your typical vending machine is 85 cents. You pop that extra dime and nickel on the top of the machine in the RIGHT hand corner (don't start fucking with people and hiding it all over the damn place, some people are mad short and can't be wobbling all over the place searching). Then you forget about it. Yes, forget about it. Go about your business. Don't check everytime you go to the break room to see if it's still there. Just let it go. I guarantee when you need it most it will be there.

Unless this happens . . .

One day I was sitting in the break room of the Marsh and some kid I work with came in. He asked me for 35 cents to add to his 50 so he could get a soda for 85 cents. I was tapped out and shared with him the Vending Machine Etiquette. He said sweet. We have three machines and between them he came up with 4 dimes (40 cents). The key to the Vending Machine Etiquette is that you only ever take what you need. In this kid's case, he got 5 cents back. Instead of putting it back in the RIGHT hand corner, he pocketed the 5 cents. What. The. Fuck. My knee-jerk reaction was the beat the crap out of him, but then I realized the blame belonged to me. I hadn't properly explained the whole history of the VME nor had I adequately explained how its success relies on each member only taking what one needed and always giving when possible. So he put the nickel back. I'm not sure if he would have done it had I not been there, and I'm in no mood for Plato's argument of whether a just man is just for the sake of being just has some intrinsic value or because he fears retribution. At the very least Nietszche has tried to tie the two together, linking the "feeling" of guilt from the debtor to the collector. Either way . . . gah, not tonight. I bring up the feeling of guilt because it has a bit to do with my feelings on welfare.

I would like to note, just as an aside, because women still get a lot of flack for Eve eating the apple, that I was shown the VME by a female co-worker and up until that day had only shown other female coworkers the VME. This 20-year-old boy was the first hiccup I'd encountered with the VME. Just stating a cold-hard fact to ponder, gentlemen.

This argument will be continued at a later date. I've got a midnight movie to get ready to see.

Boldly go where no man has gone before

Look I dog on E.M Forster a lot because , well, his novels are dryer than last week's toast (in my humble opinion). But I will give him this . . . in A Passage to India he makes a point that most stories or writing have to justify themselves with drama, with some hinge moment. Up until that point nothing too major had happened in the novel and then less than 50 pages later or so we find ourselves in the Marabar Caves. And the rest of the novel hinges upon what did or did not happen there. I actually like that he points out that this bull shit is about to occur . . . he literally used the phrase "justify itself." Prove its importance, make it relevant in some way. There has to be a climax.

I want to start acknowledging the degradation of things, erosion, the arthritic grip of daily life intertwined with the indescribable beauty of the mundane . . . the no money fun moments. The things we least talk about because they are the closest to us.

No Money Fun

That's right. July 25th. Free.
Cause I love that dirty water . . . Boston you're my home.

On two completely unrelated notes: *batteries not included . . . such a good fucking film. When I watched Be Kind Rewind years and years later, I got the same kind of feeling. I own both films. I feel a BNI x BKR Eve is in order.

And this has been on my mind . . . for a while.

Q: Why Does The Nice Guy Finish Last?

(. . . even if he was born to run)

A: Because he never thinks he has to play by the same rules as all the other players.

I wrote about accepting all the horrible things a guy might say to me if I finally told him I cared. I wasn't asking for any explanation of said possible things, I was just recognizing the possibility of those things happening and realizing he was worth all that pain. Like my buddy pointed out tonight no one really "knows" anyone else (don't fuck with me on this point, I'm versed in epistemology) . . . all we have are our beliefs. I finally got to a point where I was certain the pain of losing this guy was something I was prepared to live with. But not getting a chance to try . . . well that was a regret I was not prepared to accept.

Apparently the feeling was not mutual, he still needed more facts. Sorry I didn't come with a receipt and a 30 day money back guarantee. On that note, I hate working the return desk of Marshalls. I hate having to tactfully call people out on lying.

I can be wrong about the facts. I can misunderstand all the reasons. I can miss all the clues.

But how I feel is very much real. And as I've stated previously in past arguments, you can't really argue with feeling.

Rainy days are good for the imagination

Love her sense of adventure.

Love her infatuation with life. "Je vais à l'amour." Although her last words are a topic of speculation, I like the idea of "making love" (and all the anticipation leading up to it) representing a kind of . . . monument to life.

Claire De Lune

Gets me every time.




Although I cringed a little when it came up in Twilight . . .

Update: This will make up for the above fact.

Love me like that, until we bleed

Ain't got a lot of money, (but I got) all I need.









Nice kicks, Kyle McDonald.