Gone Down to Jers

This one time I took the bus up to New York to meet Tommy for his friend Jess's birthday. And then when I finally got there we immediately got onto her birthday party bus and set off for Atlantic City, because I was late and Jersey is always looking for a party. And of course by party bus, I mean a retrofitted Winnebago. With a non-functional mini-stereo cord. First stop: the Jersey City Best Buy.

By the time that was taken care of our 40s were gone, I'd already gone to the bathroom once, and Tommy had started demanding Ron-ron juice. Luckily somebody had brought the Four, and in the elusive lemonade coloring too. 

What was waiting for us in AC? Providence—"The premier nightlife spot in Atlantic City." In The Quarter. Little did I know that a bar in a mall in Atlantic City wouldn't let me in because I was wearing sneakers. It could have been worse, I could've been wearing an oversized shirt too. At some point there was a plan to sneak Tommy's shoes back out of the place for me. I don't think I was a big fan of that plan because I disappeared into the back hallways instead.

The good news is that I found a back door into Providence, past the bouncers. The bad news is the 2nd entrance desk, which I hadn't planned for. And the security guy who yelled out, "He's got sneakers on, get him outta here!" That sent me back into the nether regions, and eventually to the roof. Looking back on it, ending up on the roof of The Tropicana Resort & Casino isn't all that surprising. You always want to attain the high ground in these types of situations. Plus, I really like roofs. Look at all these terrible pictures I took while I was up there!

Don't think this is over yet though. Upon my descent I ran into Tommy again. Just sittin'. Not looking for me, just hanging out by the fountain. Then he gives me his phone and walks away. He may have been going to the bathroom, I'm not sure. I am sure that that was the last time I saw him or anyone else from our party. And that I had his phone, so I couldn't call him. 

Eventually I gave up waiting, and went looking. All I found was this on a men's room stall. The best case scenario is that someone had really muddy shoes. In the bathroom of an indoor mall. There are also other scenarios.

Here's what happened next. I spent 30-40 minutes walking around this place, Jersey on all sides, before realizing I was alone, it was 4:00 o'clock in the morning, and the party bus was long gone. You might not think it at first, but Atlantic City really isn't that bad of a place to get left behind by a party bus. I mean the emotions are hard to take, but at least there's a train station. And a $10 train to Philadelphia. So really, it's sort of right up my alley. Or at least inside my wheel well. 

At 8:00 this morning I walked from the train station to Newhall street, ate a sandwich, plugged in Tommy's phone, and went to bed. Look at that light.

Wanna know something funny? The Winnebago broke down on the way home. The heat stopped working, the state troopers were called, and the McDonald's Burger King's milkshake machine wasn't working. Also, it turns out I got home first. So, suck it Schwenn.

Et tu Whitné‽

Have you ever felt like everyone's against you? Like the world's just out to get you? I don't think I have. Usually I feel like the world is letting me get away with something; which it usually is. Until Karma comes knocking on my door making to collect, that is. That's scary like a Monday morning. It's even worse when she shows up with a dead tree in her hand under a gray winter sky. Creepy.

On another note, last night I felt like I had stabbed myself in the heart when I realized I had just bought a huge canister of decaf coffee. What was I thinking? Why would I do this to me?

The last time you saw this sweater I was bald; so much has happened on my head since then.


# of Frames: 54

Disaster in the mailroom.

This morning as I watched the rolling industrial wasteland that is Secaucus, NJ pass by the train window, I did some spot Karma Kalculations. I had been spending it pretty liberally as of late and I was surprised to have made it through a weekend in Brooklyn with my camera, phone, wallet, appendages, and wardrobe all still intact. Then I missed my connecting train in Trenton. Trenton is depressing; having to spend an extra 64 minutes in the knee-pit of New Jersey will mollify anyone's Karma accountant. But this sight, waiting for me when I got back to Philadelphia, is even more depressing. There once was a Little Gay Lego in there that held 4 GB of data. Now some little gay postman is out there sharing files like there's no tomorrow.

In which W & J go to B & R.

Joanna and I went to Western New York last weekend. We had a wedding to see on Saturday in Lewiston, which is like Buffalo, except quaint. And clean. And full of odd high school art installations. Okay, Joanna actually had to do more than just see it. She also had to carry a bunch of flowers down the aisle, and once during the reception she had to help the bride take a bathroom break. But I only had to see it. And blow some bubbles. After the reception, I decided to celebrate by diving into the Niagara River three times. It was at this point that Joanna and I learned that she can still fit into my pants, and I can still tie a tie while shivering uncontrollably.

In the morning we rented a car and drove to Rochester. We turned down the Jeep Liberty and instead opted for the Toyota Camry Hybrid, [Karma +]. Then I chose to turn down the insurance, [Karma -], bringing our Karma balance back down to zero. (In a possibly related note: Mendota Rowing Club's boat trailer flipped over on Saturday. It's yet unclear exactly how that effected our Karma in Rochester.)

Once in Rochester, we were immediately drawn back to the banks of the Erie Canal. Yes, the top of that floodgate is still really high. No, the water temperature is not above 50°. This led to warm up beers back at Sealander's, regular beers at Will's house, dinner, Canadian Coffees at Boulder (What, you've never been?), and some thumbwars at The Old Toad. After some quick camera breaking action, and unexpected camera repair action, we headed off into the night. The next 20 minutes of my life were both nerve-racking and exhilarating. I wouldn't have made it through without Jojo's comforting tentacles and alot of borrowed Karma. Afterwards we stopped by The Elmwood for celebratory tequila and ketchup! And of course, a late night wild ride down the driveway of the old homestead, 161 Crittenden Blvd. And a late night canal jump. 

Karma Konversions?

I just took a trip to the DMV. Not unexpectedly I saw one of the most amazing perm mullets of my life. Short and curly up top, with a wavy mane of party down to the small of the back. It may well be the most extreme business:party ratio I've ever seen in a mullet. I was excited, and went for the camera phone. Before I snapped the picture he turned around though; this was actually a handimullet! Instead of forearms and hands he had 1 hook and 1 stub. I hesitated. Is it OK to take a picture of a mulleteer if they don't have hands? It's not like I was trying to take a picture of his hook, I wanted his mullet. Also, after interacting with him for 10 seconds I decided he may have a slight touch of the mulletard in him as well. That sealed the deal and I left without a picture. But what if he wasn't retarded? Is there a karmatic conversion rate for handicaps vis-à-vis mullets? How would a highly functional aspergermullet rate against a pegleg-mullet? What if it was Oscar Pistorious? These are serious question to which I do not have answers.

Sometimes I make a good impression.

Ah, the thrill of the hunt. Or the thrill of just barely not getting kicked out of school. I live for it. There is of course the infamous 'Bagpipe Episode of 2004' which nearly cost me $20,000 in tuition and all of my friends. And the incomplete I still have from the fall of 2006, for which I have officially been on probation for a year and a half. This week though there was more excitment.

i. On Monday I informed the Linguistics Department that I would not be applying for a TAship next year. I've TAed LING 101 for 3 years now and besides getting sort of bored with it, I figured the department would want to give some of the other grad students a chance to do it as well. More importantly, I thought I would only be paying tuition as a dissertator in the fall, which is really cheap, as opposed to out-of-state tuition, which is really expensive. On Tuesday I found out that I wasn't accounting for the classes I still need to take to finish my minor, which are extra if you're a dissertator. And expensive also. On Wednesday I worried about how I was going to pay for school next year. And drank some beers outside to calm my nerves. On Thursday I got a call from my advisor. She had just come from a department meeting in which I had been discussed. The concensus, the department really wants me to TA again. I graciously accepted. On Friday I applied to be a TA for LING 101 next year. Crises averted.

ii. Last Sunday night I got an email from a professor I am doing an independant study with. We hadn't meet in a few weeks and she was wondering what was going on there. We decide to meet Firday afternoon; I promise that I've got some stuff to talk about. Friday looms in my future. Wednesday I drink some beers, to calm my nerves. Thursday night I remember I still have a section worth of problem sets to grade for Friday morning. This was prime prepare-to-meet-with-professor time. Friday morning I go row at 5:30 AM, go to breakfast at 7:15 AM, and the library at 9:30 AM. At 12:05 I begin handing back problem sets, feeling woefully ill-prepared for my meeting at 1:00. At 1:00 we meet, we talk, we discuss. I smile some. We plan for the future. We (finally) sign the form needed for me to add this class officially. By Monday I should no longer have a credit underload and risk being classified as a part time student. Crises averted.

Karma, are you out there? I don't want to lose anything this weekend because of what happened today.

The Postman Always Rings Twice...

Our post arrives reliably sometime between 12:30 and 12:45 PM, Monday through Saturday. Unfortunately I teach a class from 12:05 to 12:55 on Fridays. I assumed this meant that I was going to miss the delivery of my camera today. I did let my students out at 12:45 today, but I still had a 10 minute walk ahead of me. Things did not look good. While trekking home I listened to a mix of Mika, Rhianna, and Alicia to keep my spirits up. And of course 'Mr. Postman' by Lil' Wayne, because it seemed appropriate.I got home to see the mail already in our little mailbox. Inside was a familiar yellow card from the USPS, which I assumed was informing me that they had my camera still. I was dejected. And my feet were wet form the walk home. I went inside, took off my shoes, and found a package by door! My day was looking up. On top of that I found some pictures of this delightful little group on my camera, who I can only assume were involved in its rescue.




The camera is now happily charging on my desktop. It's slightly worse for wear, missing all of the pictures from the night it lost its way, but after 40 days it's home.

A Camera Returns Home (eventually...)

Today I got amazing news. Alex Rosemblat called me to tell me that my camera had been regained. It has had a long and complicated journey; a journey that is not over yet. Below is a brief graphical representation:


[Update: as of last night (1/31/08) the camera was in Alex's possession.]