In the Event of an Emergency.

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November 27, 2010 by sandwichcontrol

Yesterday was a weird day, but more on that in a minute.

First off today, my new article is up on the City Wire. You can read it by clicking here: (Adventure!)

Now, back to yesterday. The day started with me being a grumpy, grumpy boy and being forced by the cosmos to do good deeds and ended with me explaining to Operation B why he couldn’t wake me up in the middle of the night on a whim. Yesterday, I was in a bad way when I got up. If you read yesterday’s post, you know this already. When I got to work, I had to run a few errands for Le Duke to procure a few necessities for the open house, namely wine, cheese, and coffee. I went to the bank to make a deposit then to our local neighbor Harp’s for to do the shopping of said items. They had none of the needed things, in the format we needed them in, so I departed this store and headed to a store sure to have the slightly more exotic items that we needed, i.e. WalMart*. Upon pulling out of the Harp’s parking lot, I spotted a cell phone in the road. Being the junk collector that I am, and seeing as how cell phones are expensive, I pulled the car over and retrieved said phone. Turns out that it was a Boost Mobile phone, which I, and everyone I know, has no use for. It was at this point that something strange happened.

There aren’t very many Boost stores here in town and one happens to be directly on the way to WalMArt*. So, I stopped in and gave them the phone. I told them that I found it in the street and that I hope that they could find its rightful owner. The guy looked at me like I was speaking Klingon. “Who does shit like this?” read the clerk’s expression. And then a light bulb went on in his head. As the scenario plays out, it seems that the owner of said phone had been in moments before explaining that he had lost his phone and had given a contact number if the phone turned up. I left before the clerk had handled it, but I can only assume that “guy” got his phone back. I don’t know why I returned it, but I did. It was weird.

I then proceeded to buy wine at 9am. Good times.

Now, if you don’t know this about me, get ready to learn. I hate the Christmas Spirit. I love Grismas. Two totally different things. Grismas is when my friends and family get together to eat, drink, play pranks, and give a shit load of small, very personal, gifts to one another. That’s Grismas. The Christmas Spirit is one of profit. It is embodied by the fact that certain retailers had their Christmas decorations up on Halloween night. Probably the one thing that irritates me more about the Christmas Spirit than anything else, except maybe Muzak carols, is the damned Salvation Army bell ringers. I hate the constant ringing of bells. This is why I can never live in one of the Gabriel Garcia Marquez novels. Someone dies, and they ring the bells for days. Fuck that noise. I prefer to think of Santa being bell-less. He is more like a ninja that brings you presnents rather than kills you in your sleep.

Anyway, I somehow was compelled to give the bell ringer outside of WalMart* the whole 70 cents that was left over from my purchases. I can’t explain it. Maybe it was my Jedi way of getting the guy to stop ringing the bell. Which he did. Just long enough to wish many treasures and virgins upon me and my offspring, or something. Then, right back to his ringing. When I am independently wealthy, I will have my personal assistant go ahead of me and pay the guy to stop ringing the bell long enough for me to enter and exit the store in silent bliss.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. I made some stuff. I trimmed some stuff. I glazed some stuff. I ate some stuff. After work, I started working on the packaging for the big wholesale order that Pancake Land and I have to get out this weekend. While cutting the cardstock into the appropriate sizes, I watched a lot of No Reservations. This could be part of the reason why I am so wordy today. I am very inspired. Anyway, I ended the night by explaining to Operation B why I don’t keep my phone in the bedroom while I sleep.

It makes sense to me that most people don’t give a shit about me sleeping. It is not exciting. The only person who half way gives a shit is Pancake Land only because she is forced to. By the time that she comes to bed, I am usually lying like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man and she is forced to move me out of her way in order for her to go to sleep. I have learned the “No cares about me sleeping” lesson over the years from dogs whining, vomiting, and spraying feces. I have learned it from drunk friends and exes calling and coming by to talk. I have learned it from lightning and thunder. No one cares that I am sleeping. So, as a big “Up Yours!” to all of these things, my phone sleeps in my office. To ensure that it won’t wake me up even from a great distance, it stays on vibrate. If I accidentally leave the phone in my pocket, all that I hear if the phone rings is (buzz, buzz, buzz). “What about if there is an emergency?” O.B. asked, “Can I come by and wake you up?” I pondered this for a few moments, and then compiled this list of reasons why he, and later applied it to everyone, can come to my house and wake me up between the hours of 10:30pm and 7:30am. The reasons are as follows:

1) You have won the lottery (more than one million dollars) and are going to give me at least fifty percent of the winnings.

2) You are on the brink of suicide and only I can talk you out if it.

3) Your dwelling has burned to the ground and everyone you have ever met in your entire life has turned you away.

That’s it. Otherwise, let me sleep. If some dies, they’ll still be dead in the morning, so let me get some rest. If you break something or are bleeding profusely, go to the hospital. I’m not a friggin’ doctor. How am I supposed to help you? Plus, it will just make a mess that I’ll have to clean up quickly before the cats acquire a taste for human blood. I am very tired and I need my rest. So leave me be.

(At this point I envisioned the scene in the movie that is my life. Insert shot of friend/relative sweating profusely. Fire and chaos surround them. They are shaking and frantically dialing a number on their cell phone. You hear the phone ringing. Cut to shot of my my pants lying on a chest of drawers. The pocket lights up. The faint sound of buzzing. Cut to close up of my face nuzzling the pillow. I smile and let out a very light sigh. Cut to close up of panicked friend/relative’s face. They let out a resigned “(insert favorite expletive)”. Cut to black. Credits.)

Okay, that pretty much sums up yesterday. Today is much simpler. Punch holes in the cards I cut last night, eat on assignment, shower, and then S.A.N.D. meeting. Oh, and love Pancake Land forever. See, an easy day ahead of me. Now, back to No Reservations. Go Hogs! More soon. ~SC


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