I'm going to debunk of myth for you ladies and gentlemen. Size really doesn't matter.

Take a look at this gorgeous little slice of heaven. So simply, yet so powerful. I mist up when talking about it. *Sniff*

It arrived in the teeniest little box — with a handle no less...how frickin' precious — and it was a snap to set up. Other than for work and food, I have not wanted to leave its side.

Can I tell you how obsessed I am with GarageBand? I haven't read a single manual how to operate it and everything I'm creating sounds like such crap, but it's just so much gosh darned fun.

And yes I do fully intend on become one of those people. One of those Mac People®. I'm sure you've met them before. The elitist, snobby bastards.

I'm one of them now.

I beam.

Now if you'll excuse me...GarageBand calls.

If you don't hear from me in a while, send a search party.

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For my birthday, my bestest gal pal at work, Mary Mo, gave me Gay Haiku by Joel Derfner (the Author formerly known as Faustus, MD) because for the last few Tuesdays, inspired by Crash, I have declared Tuesdays to be Haikuesdays.

It's been a real hit. So much so that Adam and I communicated only in haikus one afternoon on instant messenger.

Brian: you know what today is?

Adam: tuesday?

Brian: no! haikuesday!

Adam: that news brings me joy
my memory is not good
but now I rejoice

Brian: i saw my doctor
he said i gained weight again
damn chester cheetah!

Adam: adam knows what's best
eating cheetohs makes one fat
must resist their draw

Brian: adam knows nothing
he said cheetos give ass sores
no sores, just big thighs

Adam: I'm drinking ginger
the spicy sweetness bubbles
yummy for my tum

Brian: i watch my clock close
less than one hour to go
tick tock hurry up

Adam: my house reeks of shit
I tried using some incense
but it is too strong

Brian: i blame your tall weeds
they grow quite high and fester
bugs will visit soon

Adam: I need some yard men
they will incarcerate me
I'm too cute for jail

Brian: i will stage a break
and free you from your prison
on the lamb we go

Adam: hire them for me?
I will pay for all the costs
you go do it now

Brian: i have a job dork
although i may get fired
because of I.M.

Adam: do it when you leave
there is not a great hurry
save me, save me now!

Brian: you must face the facts
you live in a big boy house
please don't say F.U.

Adam: I pay my mortgage
I keep the inside cleaned up
you just hire some men

Brian: with what money fool?
i make peanuts at my job
i clip coupons yo!

Adam: I said I will pay
have them send the bill to me
you just schedule it

Brian: i know a lesbian
she is crazy but mows lawns
with her ancient dog

Adam: that doesn't sound good
it will take a lot of work
I will find someone

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So, I'm running late to my birthday dinner because we had a power outage in my neighborhood and it caused all sorts of problems with the house alarm. On my way to dinner, I phone Deek to see if he lost power too.

"I don't know. I'm in Mesa right now at work. Call Matt and see."

After finishing my call with Deek, I scroll through my phone to Matt and press the send button. After a few rings he answers.

"Hello."

"Hey. Do you have power?"

"Um...yeah, I've got power," he said cautiously.

"Weird. My power's out."

"No. We have power." I could tell he didn't recognize my voice.

"It's Brian." I wait for recognition. I don't get it. "Deek's friend."

"Who?"

I tell him my full name. I look at the display on my phone and realize I'm not calling a local number, but remember Matt was using his previous number before getting a local plan.

"Am I calling your old number?" I ask confused, because I swore I programmed the new number when he got it.

"No," he said with hesitation. "I don't have a new number."

Okay, I think. Something's amiss here.

"Who are you calling?" he asked.

"Matt. Deek's friend. The one he lives with." I asked trying to figure out what's off here. Is Matt fucking with my head? I didn't dial this number, so it must be him...right?

"I don't know Deek or live with him."

"Oh." Well fuck. Now I'm more confused than before.

"How did you get my number?"

"I don't know. I thought you gave it to me. I'm sorry for bothering you. I must have the wrong number."

"No problem." And we hang up.

Now color me confused. I'm trying to put it all together in my mind and nothing makes sense. So I scroll through my numbers and I find two Matts. My Matt — the one in my neighborhood — is the second number.

"Who is this other guy?" I wonder. I mean it's not that uncommon for numbers of anonymous men to be in my cell phone, but this was ridiculous. Then it hits me.

"Holy shit! It's MAK!"

Last Labor Day, I was to visit my friends in New York and MAK gave me his phone number for when I got there. I programmed it in my phone and it has sat there ever since. Both Matts have similar last names and I used the first one I found.

I phoned back to explain, however my call went to voicemail and I left what was probably an equally crazy message. Who can blame him for not answering? One insanity call per night is more than enough.

Sorry MAK! Hope all is well. :-)

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I turn thirty-six today.† I have no trepidation in revealing my age. I am, as they say, "okay with it." The whole buildup has been very much a non-event. Maybe I've finally hit that mark where I don't feel like I have to do anything to celebrate.

Oh, I have plans. Very low-key ones. Nothing big or noisy. And that's just the way I want it.

I was looking forward to seeing a free movie at Harkins, however I found out they no longer do that. I did however receive a free lunch from Daphne's Greek Cafe because I signed up for their eClub a few weeks ago. While not terribly authentic, I have to say it wasn't half bad. And I loves me some Avgolemono Soup.

So, thirty-six feels very much the same as thirty-five. As probably it should.

This is what thirty-six looks like.

*Shameless. I know. Cut me some slack. It's my birthday.†

†Technically I'm posting this a few hours before it is officially my birthday. I'm old and need my sleep.

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To help secure my place in homodom, yesterday Kacy came over to teach me how to crochet.

It. Was. Not. Easy.

I felt like one of those poor schlubs on Queer Eye being taught how to dance or properly groom themselves only to look jerky in their awkward movements because styling their hair or doing the foxtrot is completely foreign to them.

To add to the challenge, it apparently doesn't help that I am left-handed and Kacy is right-handed. But she is a very patient instructor, taking her time to show me in remedial detail what I need to be doing. After diligently working on my chain, I'd show her to check my progress. "That's good," she'd say encouragingly.

"Really?" I'd say in disbelief. "It looks like something the cat spit up."

So my homework for the week is to master the basic chain stitch and single crochet. After that, the lessons can continue.

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Permalink | File Under: Friends, Life