Observations From a Night at the Theater

April 28, 2008 at 10:34 am (Uncategorized)

The award for the most-bored-with-his-job ticket taker goes to the guy who took our tickets.  We walked up to him and he stared vacantly into the distance for ten seconds before paying attention to us.  (He never did look at us).  I held out the tickets, and he raised his little scanner and scanned the ticket without taking it, and then returned to staring vacantly into the distance.  I said, “there are three of us” and got no response.  Then I separated out the tickets, and once again he scanned them without taking them.  Once inside, two of the three of us burst out laughing.  He may have been an audio-animatronic robot.

The award for the most surprising moment goes to the two police cars that, despite the lack of traffic, were driving slowly down the sidewalk along Tremont St. and the Common.  As a pedestrian, I certainly didn’t expect to have to avoid automobiles on the sidewalk.

The award for the coolest piece of self-referential (satisfying) comedy goes to the Drowsy Chaperone’s “Man in Chair,” who, while snacking on a Nutri-Grain bar, comments that he hates intermissions…and then the show doesn’t have one (I don’t much like intermissions either).

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Coincidence of the Week: She’s Singing What I’m Thinking

April 23, 2008 at 10:33 am (Uncategorized)

I drive to work approximately once a week.  It’s the same day each week.  Today, actually.

This morning, I noticed that for the third time in a row, as I pulled off of the highway and into the garage at my building, Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani came on the radio.  The third time in a row.

WHAT COULD IT MEAN? I wondered, as I waved at the security guard and rolled down my window to take my little blue parking ticket.

“If I could escape, create a place that’s my own world…” sang Gwen. 

That’s it! I thought.  I want to escape, and create a place that’s my own…

I pulled into the loading lane and turned off the car.  In the sudden silence, sanity returned.

So what does it mean?  I think it means that (a) I listen to the same radio station too often; and (b) the DJs are creatures of habit.  Either that, or I’m just really excited about escaping to Disney World in just over a week…

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Joss Whedon + Neil Patrick Harris + Nathan Fillion = Awesome

April 18, 2008 at 12:06 pm (Uncategorized)

Good lord.  Would you look at this? Would you just look?

http://doctorhorrible.net

Totally safe for work. 

I can’t wait.

 

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Hi There, Wednesday Snail

April 18, 2008 at 9:52 am (Uncategorized)

Best Angel line ever:

Angel (after Lorn is bugging him about Cordelia, and affectionately calling him streudel, cinnamon buns, crumb cake, and corn muffin):

“Stop saying that. And stop calling me pastries!”

Well, it’s the best line ever today, because I saw that episode last night. Bonus points if you can name the episode…

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Said to me yesterday for the third separate time ever…

April 15, 2008 at 10:02 am (Uncategorized)

“Your mind works funny.”

And I can’t express how much that pleases me.

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More Trash-Collection Musings

April 14, 2008 at 2:59 pm (Uncategorized)

At the risk of making this blog garbage-truck themed, I just have to ask:

Why is all garbage collected between 5AM and 9AM? I mean, do the garbage-collectors just go home afterwards? Do they have other things to do? Why not spread it out throughout the day?

Or maybe they do. But everywhere I have ever lived, garbage is collected in the early AM. Makes me wonder if garbage-collectors are special creatures that can only exist in our dimension in those early morning hours….

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One of those days…

April 7, 2008 at 9:46 am (Uncategorized)

Two posts in one morning after a brief hiatus…well, it’s just that this morning has been filled with bits of the ridiculous. 

I left my house this morning on time.  I walked down the street, took a left, and reached into my pocket to check for my T pass (habit, since I had just taken it out of my bag and put it in there not three minutes earlier).  No T pass.  I stopped, checked again, and again, empty pocket.

So I pulled open my bag and rooted around.  It wasn’t in the side pocket where I keep it.  It wasn’t floating around in the main compartment.  After a minute of this, I turned around, figuring that in the confusion of making sure I had my keys and getting a bag for my lunch, I had left it on the kitchen counter instead of putting it in my pocket like I was supposed to.

It wasn’t on the kitchen counter.  I looked in the dining room, on the floor, even opened the cabinet with the plastic bags to see if I had dropped it in there.  I went through my bag again.  Finally, I shrugged and figured I’d find it later, made sure I had two bucks for the T, and headed out again.

There, in the middle of my street, was my T pass.

Don’t ask me how it got there.  I know I didn’t reach into my pocket at that point in my walk.  With a sigh, I started forward…and stopped short.  Rumbling down the street was the friendly orange public works truck (a.k.a. the garbage truck).  Sure enough, it came to a halt right on top of my T pass.

So here I am, standing at the foot of my driveway, waiting for the garbagemen to take my garbage and roll on so I can get my T pass.  They looked at me funny.  I smiled, and that made them look at me funnier.

In the end, I got the T pass, was now ten minutes late, but the sun was shining so I didn’t feel so blue.  Until I got two blocks away and realized I had forgotten a folder of important documents on the dining room table.

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Caps for Sale

April 7, 2008 at 9:19 am (Uncategorized)

Caps for Sale.  It’s a children’s book, by Esphyr Slobodkina, about a hat peddler who wears his wares (ALL of them) and a bunch of mischief-making moneys who steal them while he’s asleep…and won’t give them back.  I loved this book when I was a kid.

This morning, I watched a newspaper-delivery man — not the ones who deliver to homes but the ones who deliver to newstands — carrying this monstrous stack of newspapers on his shoulder.  I’m not talking a foot of newspapers.  I’m talking maybe three, three-and-a-half feet of newspapers.  And they were balanced up there, since his arm couldn’t reach the top of the stack.

It made me think of Caps for Sale.  I nearly looked up to see if there were any monkeys hanging about, looking to make trouble — as monkeys do.

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