L'autobus Vignettes

As I embarked on a post-work walk after a stressful day at the office my mind wandered as it tends to wander. Today it focused on buses and the things that change when you become an adult.

During the better half of junior high, I used to strategically select a seat on the bus. Conveniently for me, my bus crush's stop was a few after mine and the bus was reasonably full by the time she would board. I'd scan for that prime open seat. On those lucky days, I'd snag it then wait in hopes that we'd sit together for those few fleeting, bumpy minutes. Some days I'd sit on the aisle hopping she'd ask me if I minded if she sat next to me. Others, I'd sit by the window, so the open seat was clearly visible. Maybe we'd compare homework or discuss whether we wanted to wed on the beach or in the mountains. Sadly, she opted to sit with other friends and started dating a guy on another bus route. We never had the opportunity to firm up our matrimony plans.

Garbage

In a daily update I send for my job I include famous birthdays and random facts. Today, I included a note that this date in 1970 was the first Earth Day. A woman in the office emailed me to share that she remembered being in elementary school and celebrating Earth Day by picking up garbage with her class. Things certainly change as you get older. If you pick up garbage as an adult, it is either court ordered or you're one of those people.

Status Updates From My Almost Proposal

Simply watching Giada's show on a daily basis isn't enough. I needed to profess my love the only way I know how--inappropriately at a book signing. So, I took a half day and zipped to the mall on my lunch to purchase her new cookbook and await my destiny. This was my first book signing for someone I have a borderline infatuation with. For some, they get tongue tied around athletes or actors. For me, it's people from the Food Network.

I patiently waited in line with the aging population of America and listened to them drone on about their grandchildren. If they weren't married and older than 60, they were in their 50s and with their daughters, who felt it necessary to discuss their boyfriends and how much they love Giada. I'm not saying I was there to pick-up women. My main goal was to make my case for why Giada should leave her successful husband and elope with me for a life of mediocrity. Call me a home wrecker. I'm OK with that. Nevertheless, I figured I'd warm-up on the 450 ladies of the line.

From Giada and other things of beauty

Tue at 11:55am
Now would be the appropriate time to hide me if you are not a fan of Giada. Off to hopefully get her book and get it signed. She better write "with love."

Tue at 1:31pm
upwards of 25 people await the arrival of giada at oak brooks crate and barrel. more inside. oh the fervor!

Tue at 2:12pm
notes from the line: learning about how u carry a baby is a foreshadower of the baby's sex. im losing masculinity by the minute.

Tue at 2:51pm
almost go time. which likely means waiting in a line but indoors. WHAT TO SAY?!

Tue at 3:20pm
in the store! buying a second pair of pants was a smart move.

Tue at 3:50pm
OMFG. there comes a point un every mans life that can be looked at in the future as a defining moment. today was probably not that day. upside, didnt get arrested. now i enter the post giada phase of my life.

Regrets from an Occasional Blogger

I wonder if Jesus would have been a blogger. If so, would he have a lot of followers? Would he comment on his disciples' musings?

There are two types of people in this world: those that comment on blog posts and those that don't.

I regretfully am in the latter bucket. It isn't that I don't want to read what others write, I simply haven't allocated the time to do so. I think it all started that fateful day when I subscribed to a few magazines, one of which being a weekly. One of the subscriptions has since run its course and I didn't renew. There are still four or five issues in their snug cellophane. That leaves two dense mags that skimp on pictures and continue to make me reach for the dictionary. I've yet to determine if this makes me feel challenged or deserving of the short bus. My goal is to be reading issues in the same month as my Legends of Jazz wall calendar displays. It's an ongoing literacy battle. I took out a speed reading book, but apparently getting the audiobook version was a wasted effort.

The Art of the Self-Invite

I have no qualms about inviting myself to your party. Let's be honest, you simply forgot to check my name when you were sorting through your contact list. No big deal. I could see how that happened. I'm not offended. I'll still show up with a beverage or snack item.

If any of the following sound reminiscent or have happened to you, fret not:

• Your coworkers come in on Monday and talk about their scurrilous weekend together
• Your Facebook feed is dominated by parties you weren't invited to
• Perhaps you Photoshop yourself into group shots

If you often find yourself on the uninvited list (also known as the shit list), there's a simple solution. All you need is the address. Yes, there will be some uncomfortable moments. You may get some doors closed in your face--think of the back door as a second opportunity. If you've brought some beer or medium-tier fermented beverage, the collective thirst of the group will outweigh their disdain for you. Initially it might be wise to avoid glass containers. Alcohol is to a party what beads and shells were to the Native Americans. (As an aside, the Native Americans were the first group to truly know the joys of gentrification.)

In no time you'll be known as "that guy who shows up." Use Twitter and social networks as your tools. Don't think of it as stalking. As soon as they hit publish, it's public information. I'm not sure about the legality of this, but it sounds solid.

Once you've mastered this, the brass ring is the wedding invite. Instead of booze, you'll want to bring a toaster or kitchen appliance. Don't over do it and get a Kitchen-Aid, then you'll get invited to everyone's wedding and go broke. I will take this opportunity to announce that should you be in the greater metropolitan Chicago area, I may be able to lend my services, but I will need a formal invite.