Monday, September 29, 2008

To discuss me being a potential trendsetter, plus a Weekend Update

It seems like I’m apologizing a lot lately on here, as per the previous post. Coincidentally, my apologies began right around the time I started dating Capricorn. I blame it all on her*...
That is, except for Bailey spilling tea on my laptop and causing the keyboard to spit out letters like a veritable word verification spam preventer. A sample of me trying to type:


(Translation: Bailey is an idiot. But he’s still cute. Can I really get mad at him?) Fortunately, I’m still got my work computer, but I can only write on this so much. I love you guys, but I'd rather not try to get fired, unless you can pay my rent (Wait, would you? That would be awesome. I’ll spot you next month, I promise. And by next month, I mean never. And by never, I mean there’s a better chance that the federal government would hand over nearly a trillion dollars to Wall Street moguls who already laid waste to billions of dollars, with no real way to make them pay it back. And by that, I mean that's a reality and we’re screwed. And by that, I mean I wonder if I can ask the federal government to bail me out since I’ve spent just as wrecklessly as Merrill Lynch. Help a brother out, Uncle Sam. You're my uncle. We're family.)

If my laptop doesn’t work again tonight, I’ll likely take two courses of action. One, cry the salty tears of hindsight. Two, bust out my typewriter.
What’s that? A typewriter? You bet your ass I own a typewriter. Not one of those antique ones that weigh 50 pounds. An electronic one that has correction tape (which sort of works). The pitter-patter of the keys pounding the paper is a feast for the ears, its black-tongued keys striking white a festival for the eyes.
So, there's a good chance I will write a blog entry on my typewriter and scan it in tomorrow at work. That’s got to be a blogging first, right? I’m practically the Wright Brothers of blogging, sans the incredible handlebar mustaches and museum in my honor. Would you look forward to something like that? You don’t have to tell me. I can hear the heavy breathing now.

Just in case I don’t get to it, the Weekend Update:


  • Cooking dinner for Capricorn (chicken parmesan with sauteed mushrooms), and having it actually taste good.
  • Catching up on the season premieres of Heroes (lots of good plot points developing), How I Met Your Mother (Barney never ceases to amaze me), The New Adventures of Old Christine (Julia Louis Dreyfus may actually be funnier now than on Seinfeld, and that’s saying something) and watching MTV’s The Island, in which Rachel Robinson, the same person I interviewed this week, gets kicked off.
  • Winning my fantasy football game this week. I’m 4-0, baby. Capricorn didn’t seem to be as excited, although she's under the mistaken impression that I’m going to give all the winnings at the end of the season to her. Crazy girl.
  • Getting an award from Diane, who is full of sunshine and moonbeams in my view. Considering how much I enjoy her blog-- she had a great post about Target recently-- it’s high praise, indeed. I’m going to give out the same award to five people later this week, as per tradition.
  • Catching up on the season premieres of Big Bang Theory (It was funny, but they are making Sheldon into an increasingly unlikeable and annoying person that nobody likes) and The Office (Yes, it’s still one of my favorites, but here’s the thing. I watched the original three episodes with Capricorn this weekend, and I remembered why I love the show- it was so irreverant and didn’t take itself seriously. Now, it’s almost like the characters are too aware and too involved, and some things felt a little forced. I would like Here Comes Treble to sing at my wedding, however).
  • Visit to the post office. What a depressing place. Nobody smiles at the post office, perhaps because they all realize that the only reason they are there is because e-mail has failed them. And that they’ll have to pay to send something that would be free online.
  • Going to Wal-Mart at midnight on Saturday and winning the Most Teeth title. That's not a stereotype. That quite literally happened. No gum was purchased that night, I am sure of it.
* Obviously, I don't. I've been smiling all week like an idiot. She makes me want to handwrite notes, fold them up and pass them to her during study hall...


Amy xxoo said...

An electric typewrter huh ? How old school of you, Andy.

Also old school: references to " Seinfeld " ( including the one you left on my blog ), and passing notes in study hall.

What next ? A regression to hyper colour t-shirts ?

sj said...

i used to collect typewriters of varying antiquity. seriously. i still have several. i love the pitter patter and whir and hum.

i rather miss my days as a reporter, but i think i may type more now in emails than i ever did in stories (even while writing two a day).

and AWW!! you *should* write capricorn notes. my husband wrote me a book once back when we were dating -- the story of us. it was super awesome and sweet. particularly so because writing is *not* his thing.

so actually, maybe you should instead draw her something, since writing *is* your thing.

Anonymous said...

Just to clarify, is there such a thing as a NON-antique typewriter? I'm just sayin..

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