rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

I found this on the AP wire by accident tonight at work. that’s Giuliani. America’s Mayor.
and fittingly, there’s a homeless guy sitting to the left, wondering what it must be like to be running for the Republican party nomination.
and besides, we all know what Giuliani thinks of the homeless.

YES.

also: THIS GUY IS BETTER THAN ME AT VIDEO GAMES.
“call me Frank Beamer round this ho’, cause I am a special teams guru.”

tonight I’m all over the place.

I’m listening to Totimoshi, this band I saw open for Fu Manchu in Costa Mesa back in November. really heavy, hard rock, d minor kind of shit. interesting stuff.

went up and saw the East Coast Family a couple of days ago.
yes. I was in DC. and I didn’t call nobody. Spencer, in the off chance you happen upon this; I’m sorry dude, time is short. but I’ve got a lot of weekends coming up, and a lot of free time.

now, it’s “whore monger” by Non Prophets.

the kid is adorable. she babbles. “ba, dabadblahbadabeada.” no hard syllables. pretends she’s reading books with you. gets disinterested quickly. gives you high fives (she’s 16 months, for god’s sake, that’s awesome). all sorts of cool shit.
also, she craps, a lot. definitely a McMullan.

and now, “o green world” by Gorillaz. favorite Gorillaz track. ya heard?

went and got some beers with Cat tonight. she gets a tip o’ the hat. I can be pretty droll, and we had a lot of beer. but, apparently she feels nearly the same way I do about northern Virginia. soul-sucking-endless sprawl-and-traffic northern Virginia. kindred spirits, man.

this one’s “we’ll make great pets” by Jane’s Addiction.

when I was up in Alexandria, I got the opportunity to see Quantico with my dad. which, by all accounts, I really enjoyed.
Quantico is where my parents met in 1969. I think it was 69. give or take a year. so that’s where my begrudging, dysfunctional disaster of a nuclear family began. saw where dad was posted. saw mom’s barracks. the officer’s schools he studied in. etcetera.
kind of cool, considering I’ve never seen it. and it was only about 30 minutes from our house growing up.
kind of hard to imagine that courtship. ehhhh, Mar.

“corona,” as done by Calexico.

this guy I know through peoples died a few nights ago. train accident.
my response was exasperated. like the ultimate disappointment. just, come on, man, a train? you were worth more than that.
RIP, Pug.

the weekend before I left El Centro.

Chinatown, San Fran.

shut up, hippy.

Golden Gate.

Muir Woods.

U.S. 50 east of Reno.

sitting in the middle of U.S. 50.

U.S. 50 on the other end of the state. that’s Great Basin N.P., I think.

the market in Budapest. Mar’s all smiles at the beginning!

the courtyard of Mar’s apartment building.

Mar and her boyz. except that guy on the left. he’s not supposed to be in there.

Communist realism in a statue park outside of Budapest.

me and Mar halfway up a hill overlooking Brasov, Romania. I was telling shitty vampire jokes.

Brasov, from the top.

Bran Castle. no Dracula, but still rad.

“I can’t read Romanian. and is that dog dead?”

Mar in the Black Sea.

sand in the ol’ shirt.

me and Mar in Sofia on the balcony of the hostel we stayed in. I’m puzzling over why anyone would willingly read “To the Lighthouse” while on fucking vacation.

dog outside the petstore.

Rila Monastery.

Mar hates pigs.

“the Black Shadow.” AKA, one of the million stray dogs inside the train station in Sofia.

Eric, the Irish guy. he rides a fixed-wheel bike. right now, in Austria, probably.

kaffe in Vienna.

Mar, in Vienna.

okay. no hilarious blog post. the end.

I’m sitting on the floor in my bare apartment. mooching internet service off someone’s wireless network. watching “Ghostbusters.” I love this fucking movie.

“you guys’ve been running your ass off, meeting and greeting every schizo in the five boroughs who says he’s had a paranormal experience. and what’ve you seen?”
“of course you forget, Peter, I was present at an undersea, unexplained mass sponge migration.”
“ehh … Ray, the sponges migrated about a foot and a half.”

tonight was my first A1 shift. I still don’t know the styles yet, or the billion little Quark shortcuts. motherfuckers trip me up.
consequentially, we were real fucking late. really late. no joke.
I feel bad about it, and I don’t. I mean, fuck, it’s my first A1 shift, and I started on Saturday. I didn’t pull an A1 shift in El Centro until a solid two months after I got there. and this is, you know, harder.

Bill Murray: you’re never gonna regret this, Ray.
Dan Aykroyd: my parents left me that house. I was born there.
Murray: you’re not gonna lose the house. everybody has three mortgages nowadays.
Aykroyd: but at 19%? you didn’t even bargain with the guy!
Harold Ramis: Ray, for your information, the interest rate alone for the first five years comes to $95,000.

my apartment is bare. mom is coming out with furniture in a few weeks, and she suggests I wait. we’ll see if I hold out that long.
until then, it’s me, a couple of boxes, and this big-ass TV I bought at Best Buy. I don’t have a fucking bed, but I have a stunning television with great picture quality. good thing I have my priorities in order.

Charlottesville seems alright. this job keeps you tired; you eat like shit, you’re tense and you’re in front of a computer all day. but my day off yesterday, Spencer’s homegirl, Catherine, humored me, and we went out for a beer. really good stuff. not far from here. she’s really cool, by the way; glad I met her.

Janine: you’re very good with your hands.I bet you like to read a lot, too.
Egon: print is dead.
Janine: that’s very fascinating; I read a lot myself. some people think I’m too intellectual, but I think it’s a fabulous way to spend your spare time. I also play racquetball. do you have any hobbies?
Egon: I collect spores, molds and fungus.

so yeah, I’m settling in a little. soon as I get some god damned furniture, I’ll feel this place a little more. also, I need to contact the electric company in Bloomington. cause, apparently, you need to show a letter of credit with Charlottesville Utility, otherwise they charge you $250 on your initially get your gas turned on. what the fuck?!

oh, and Mike. lawn care in northwest Indiana! only a week late.
(219) 305-1611 for a free estimate.

alright, first impressions.
I’m at Spencer’s homeboy (girl)’s place right now. an apartment off of this country estate just outside of Charlottesville. looks like Virginia. smells like Virginia. is hot like Virginia. right. it’s Virginia.
first day of work was alright. I didn’t really do anything, which is how first days of anything usually go. my boss seems to be an alright guy, and the other dudes on the copy and sports desks were decent. I can already pick out the character types from the last paper. the overacchiever. the gruff-yet-lovable prick. the sleepy-eyed new guy (me).
best thing about the job? I mean, really, so far, the best thing? no dress code. everyone was wearing t-shirts and jeans. or shorts. I saw flip flops. this includes the managing editor.
hell yes.

I’m going to have to sign a form that says I’ll return the moving expense bonus if I leave early. for every month I work, they shave a 24th off of the grand. then, if I stay on for two years, they waive it. but if I leave or am fired beforehand, I pay back that difference. bogus!
I guess that’s some sort of subconscious incentive not to quit. but they ain’t got me yet, the motherfuckers.

tomorrow, I’m looking at an apartment. depending on how well I like it, I’m going to call about a cottage, too. what the fuck, I’d like to live in the woods.

day one, Charlottesville, down. I’m already thinking about other shit. but it’s not as bad as day one, El Centro. so that’s a plus.

today started with an ambulance.
we were on the way out de do’ to church, in all of our tardy, regal splendor, when it was decided by majority vote that Aunt Nettie looked pretty bad. real unresponsive, hunched over, not moving well. all of this, by the way, is relative. she’s not like she’s a lucid gymnast with great posture as is. but it was worse than normal.
so we slowed up, and put her to bed. and then mom and Mar and I decided to go it alone. and got close to the other side of town, and then Uncle Bill called, and a super-loud conference call ensued, and it was decided to call the paramedics. fuck, she could have had a stroke, or a small one. better safe than sorry.
(somewhere in the next paragraph, I switch tense. get ready.)
so, the paramedics arrive. and they made the big deal of it, two trucks with screaming sirens. they arrived, hard and fast, which I found unnecessary. I was eating eggs in the kitchen. Mar was probably checking the fucking Facebook. mom was doing something calm. and the EMTs come in and it’s time to get Aunt Nettie back up, while Grandma and mom answer questions.
what are her symptoms? what meds are she on? etcetera.
they wake Nettie up, and she sits up, and the first thing she says is,
“I gotta go t’da toilet.”
fuck, I thought. she’s fine.
after another five minutes of arguing slowly with the medics about wearing an oxygen mask and having her blood pressure taken, they decided she was alright. the neighbors gathered to stare, as they are apt to do. Mar and I went out front and shot hoops to throw them off. just another day.

we also had a barbecue. pretty sick one, too.

tonight, Neil and I saw “Knocked Up,” which was an unsurprisingly wonderful film. it was like a realistic improvement upon “The 40 yr old Virgin.” which is a compliment. so yeah, if you want a touching summer movie about child rearing with a lot of pot jokes, this is all you.

tomorrow? tomorrow is errand day. I’m doing errands. important shit. shit you’ll read about exclusively here, at dudeokay.blogspot. you know where the flavor is, babygirls: it’s right here.

got back last night.

the plane wasn’t so bad this time. I watched “Shooter” and “Ghost Rider” on the flight from London.
I watched “Ghost Rider,” for fuck’s sake.
sat next to a Nepalese woman who didn’t speak any English and eventually went to sleep on my shoulder. she smelled funny … or so I thought. turned to Mar and was whispering, “Mar, this woman is rank.” but then, it turns out? it was Mar. yes!
now, I didn’t mention this before, but I’d been having some, uh, digestive problems for the last week in Europe. I couldn’t take a shit, man. and it wasn’t for a lack of trying. I mean, I ate well over there, and I was getting concerned.
but then, mom picked us up at the airport. she brought White Castle. it was awesome. when we got home, there was Kool-Aid and jello in the fridge. potato and macaroni salad.
this is a volatile mix of foodstuffs.
needless to say, my digestive problems are problems no more.

alright. I’m going to shave. all of it.