Archive | 6:12 pm

Another Bad Blog + A Bonus Short Bad Blog!

14 Nov

from March 26, 2008

Not sure why I’m in a mood to write this (OK, I know exactly why I’m in this mood but I’m not telling you.) but this is a story from way way back, seventeen or eighteen years. I’ll try to neither embellish nor……. damn. What goes with embellish? And here I wasted a literary and grammatical neither/nor. Shit. OK, I’ll try not to bullshit too much.

This is a sort of semi-love story. Kind of. It seemed that way at the time. I was somewhere around 19 or 20 years old and working at a kids store. I was the stock department manager and been working there a couple of years, give or take. Back then, to describe myself, well, I’d have to know what you think of me now. If you like me now you probably wouldn’t have liked me then. If you don’t like me now you’d really not have liked me then. Back then I was, well, like I said, you’d have to have known me to get it. But in truth I wasn’t too happy with myself either, but that is a longer story of a more serious nature and screw you I’m not writing it.

There was a girl there named Kellie. She was not my type; in as far as I ever had a type other than whatever girl paid attention to me. That’s not true anymore but it was true then. I said I wasn’t well-liked. Anyway, physically, by today’s standards, she was sort of my type. What is my type? And why will I write this when I know I shouldn’t? Ugh, I’m self-destructive today. Anyway, tall-ish. Well, not tall, but my height or a bit more. Or just giving the appearance of tall. Kellie was tall. Hair- longish to long, not short, straight or wavy preferred. Pony tails a plus. Kellie had thick tight curly long hair. A draw. Blondes or redheads first, but dark hair is OK. Kellie had a sort of prematurely old gray color hair. Body- not thin. Kellie was thin and boobless. I prefer boobs. She didn’t fill out a top as much as cave it in. (Just as an aside, I don’t understand all those foot-fetish people. I prefer that women have feet, but that’s about as far as it goes.) As far as personality goes if you know me you can figure that out yourself.

So I worked in the back of the store, unloading trucks and sending stuff up to the stockroom on the big tram-like machine I ran or goofing off in the back or whatever. I ran the back of the store and had the power to do what I wanted, as long as it was work and not playing stickball in the back hallway, which I managed to do a lot of the time. I would go to work, turn on the radio, and load or unload trucks if there was a shipment, send stock to the stockroom upstairs, do maintenance like changing light bulbs or repairing fixtures, or whatever I had to do and if I didn’t want to see a manager I could go a whole week without seeing one.

Kellie worked out on the sales floor. I never had much to do with her. Truth was I  didn’t much know her. Like here at LHS, back then I also didn’t know too well the people I worked with. But back then it was because I was a nasty prick as opposed to today when I am just anti-social. But she worked there and I knew her about as well as anybody else.

There was a guy I worked with named….. I don’t remember his name but let’s call him “Dick” because he was one. Dick got along better with everyone, and let’s face it, who didn’t? Dick didn’t like Kellie very much. Not that there was anything wrong with Kellie, she was nice enough and fun, but they never clicked. And as far as anyone knew Kellie had no specials feelings for Dick (I don’t know her feelings about dick, we didn’t get that far) but they may have been there.

So here’s me, usually the first one in the store because I opened with whatever manager was in that day. The first other employees showed up close to an hour later. By that time, unless there was a shipment,  I’d still be doing basic maintenance in the front of the store, stocking the registers with bags and boxes. Because I was in the front I’d let in whatever employee showed up. So one day I unlock the front door and Kellie walks in and gives me a hug. OK. Cool. Nice way to start the day, a nice thank you for opening the door.

Later that day I’m walking down the aisle on the right side of the store and Kellie rushes over and gives me a hug. Then she went back to work (Yeah, I’m mixing my tenses.) No explanation and I didn’t ask for one. Hey, hugs were hard to come by back then.

The next day she was closing and so I only saw her as I passed by the service desk on my way out. She called me to stop and came out from around the desk and hugged me. And kissed me on the check. I kissed her back and said “bye” and left. Yeah, I’m suave. What was so funny, as I look back on it, was the way that I just accepted the hugs and kisses. I never questioned them or her. In fact, it would become a joke. I’d tell someone “watch this” and I’d walk within fifty feet of her and she’d rush over to me and give me a hug and a kiss.

So eventually when I saw her I’d go over to her and give her a hug and a kiss.

Right about now I have to point out that our relationship was based on more than that. Eventually. She’d help me out in the back (despite my not needing help and some of the machinery being dangerous) when she had a break and we’d talk about her and her school plans and what she wanted to do in college.

Someone floated a theory that she was just using me to get to Dick (not dick, we didn’t get that far) but no one believed it. I still don’t, but it at least makes sense. For some reason he came up (Dick, not dick, and I’m going to beat that joke to death. There- I did it again! I’m going to “beat dick.” Time to stop. I’ve probably crossed that line.) and when I later said that he didn’t like her she didn’t seem to care, though he later had a problem because while he didn’t “like” her, he didn’t hate her either.

Eventually I asked her out for her birthday. “Sure! That’ll be great!” Hug kiss hug kiss.

“When?”

“We’ll talk Saturday.”

Saturday became Wednesday, Wednesday became Sunday, June became July, and it was always put off. But it was still all hug kiss hug kiss.

I wanted to go out with her only because, well, with all the hug hug kiss kiss I guessed we should go out. It seemed like we were already going out. Everyone thought we were though I never once saw her outside the store or had even asked for her phone number.

Eventually it all became just a joke to me. After three or four months I finally realized that we were probably never going out, but I was doggedly determined not to let it drop, just to be a pain and a bother because that’s the kind of great catch I was. I had and still have no idea how she felt about me. I didn’t feel real love, or love at all, for her, but I loved the hugging and kissing. So it went on and on.

Until one day it stopped.

I walked past her, no hug. I let her in the store, no kiss. I needed help in the back, no help, no talk of her future, nothing more than basic politeness.

It was about this time that she brought her boyfriend in, who was in the army reserves.

I wasn’t introduced.

So there it is. I have no idea what it was all about.

Just for closure, let me tell you about how she has fared.

After leaving the store, she got engaged to her Army Reservist and moved to where he was based, somewhere in the South. She got a job working in a zoo and tragically lost her left leg when she was mauled by a tiger that attacked her through a fence at feeding time. Please do not laugh because that part is one-hundred percent true. She lost her leg just below the knee, which they managed to save, and she married her boyfriend in the hospital during her rehab.

I still have no theory about all the hugs and kisses. And stupid as I was and still am I never asked.
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I guess I’ll add a quickie here too.

When I got my first teaching job I was paired with another new teacher named Christine. I was crazy about her and she seemed to like me, though, and this is true, she was trying to decide if she was a lesbian or not. I’m not sure which side of the fence she ended up on, but assuming she went to the other team, that makes her the second lesbian I asked out.

Anyway, she was much more cultured than I, a real Pottery Barn woman, and we (I) moved with little baby footsteps. After I left the school (and she left it too, unrelated) we drifted out of contact until out of the blue I was invited to a New Year’s Eve party. Shockingly, I went to the party and had a good time. She emailed me later and told me how much her friends liked me. (Also shockingly.) We emailed a bit after that and I was always a bit reserved when talking to her. Until she invited me to a party on a friend’s boat.

My response: “A boat! Cool! My chance to pull out my pirate gear and go ’Arrgh me mateys!’ and force the captain to walk the plank! I’ll drink grog and shiver me timbers!”

And I never heard from her again.

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I wrote a blog! (OK, I’m out of titles.)

14 Nov

from March 23, 2008

Nothing good comes in the mail. Wanna prove it? Go to your mail right now. Look what comes in the mail: credit card bills, pre-approved credit card offers, American Teacher magazines that you throw out unopened, coupons for restaurants you don’t go to and leave on a neighbor’s doorstep, draft notices, etc. Now, the good stuff comes over the internet- emails from friends, spam, notices of my new blog, spam, spam from friends, spam spam spam, and sometimes an interesting link. And lots of unsolicited spam. OK, so email may be worse. But you don’t have to walk to the mailbox to get email. And nothing good comes from walking to your mailbox. I live on the fourth floor of an apartment building. So if I go to get my mail that means that I am OUT OF MY HOUSE and can POSSIBLY RUN  INTO A NEIGHBOR. (Motivational caps, btw.) Notice that I didn’t’ say “run into someone I know,” I said “run into a neighbor.” I don’t know my neighbors, they move out too fast. I’ve had old neighbors, young neighbors, short neighbors, fat neighbors, the whole deal, but none of them spoke English. I’ve had one of these neighbors offer me an “all-access” date with his daughter, if you know what I mean, (I blogged it, go back to my brush with marriage) and I’ve had neighbors who stole my garbage. (Yep, garbage.) (I once had a very cute Russian neighbor who lived upstairs on the sixth floor. She was young-ish and took care of a baby. I don’t think it was hers. I’d always run into her in the elevator. I’d be coming home and she’d be going to the park with the baby. I don’t think she spoke any English but we had a nodding acquaintance. I’d get on the elevator. I’d nod. She’d nod back. I’d say hi. She’d nod  I’d smile at the baby. She’d smile and nod. (The girl, not the baby.) I’d get off the elevator. She’d nod. I’d say goodbye. She nodded. I nodded. She nodded. Somewhere along the line the baby nodded too. Like everything else in my George Costanza-like life, there had to be something off about her. Something that made her “wrong.” (Aside from the fact that she spoke no English and had a baby that may or may not have been hers.) Every time I saw her, and it may have been anywhere from 30-40 times, she was wearing the exact same short orange skirt. Now I’m not complaining because she had the legs for a short skirt- and did I mention that it was shooooort?- but it was always the SAME short orange skirt. Didn’t end up mattering one way or another because she (and the baby) moved out soon anyway. I’m still sorry I never got the chance to nod goodbye. We were so close.)

[Now “why,” you are wondering, “did he write such a short and meandering paragraph? He’s an English teacher. He knows that’s crap. And besides, I know his style by now. Short paragraphs separated by a skipped line. So what’s up with that? And why the brackets?” Wonder no more. The brackets are to show that this is an aside having nothing at all to do with the main point of the blog. As if I have one. The long paragraph is because that paragraph has nothing to do with the point of the blog, which can be read below and has in common with the first paragraph only the fact that it has to do with something that came in the mail. And since I know what you are all wondering, and can read all of your minds, I won’t blow up your game, but I know that one of you is thinking some very dirty thoughts about me.]

So in the mail I got a notice from the Brooklyn Technical High School Alumni Association. It is time for the twentieth anniversary reunion of  my class.

I usually throw these things out. Brooklyn Tech is always looking for money and they won’t get it from me. I had a totally lousy high school experience. I hated every day of it, from the train ride downtown to the students to the teachers to the classes to the size of the school to the train ride home. So naturally I became a high school teacher.  My chance for revenge!

Anyhow, the first time I walked through Brooklyn Tech I was not impressed. For a school whose middle name is literally “technical” this was a dump. As we walked to the swimming pool we were directed to walk against the wall opposite a panel of exposed wiring. Exposed LIVE and SPARKING wiring with no technician in sight. We also had to walk up  four or five floors because the elevator was out. I later found out that Tech has an old-fashioned foundry spanning the top two floors. Yes, a foundry, like in the 18th century. I dug dirt and put stuff into hot kilns, like the sort of deal that Upton Sinclair railed about in the turn of the century.

At this point I will not- WILL NOT (man I like those caps tonight) point out that it is the twentieth freakin anniversary of my high school graduation. Twenty years! OK, I know that I am 37 years old, but mentally, let’s all face it, I’m still about eight. I like fart jokes and Godzilla. Ladies, any wonder that I’m still available? (Hint hint.) [37 year old English teacher, likes Larry, Moe and Curly, staying at home, seeks woman…… you get the idea.]

So. The Eighties. Here’s some stuff from the 1980’s, when I was a teen and, well, just read on.

These were among the top songs of the Eighties:

Come on Eileen, by Dexy’s Midnight Runners.It wasn’t until, like, last year, that I found out that “Dexy” was a drug reference about Dexedrine.

Pour Some Sugar on Me, by some annoying hair band.

Africa, by Toto. In summer camp, back in the seventies, I got into a fight with a kid named James Toto and that totally colored my view of that song. I’ve since then gone back and re-listened. Shouldn’t have bothered. Song blows.

When I was in junior high, Mark Twain JHS won some silly radio contest and Duran Duran came to our school. “Human Numan” or some other radio tool from Z100 hosted the event. Nothing got done that day since the appearance was a total secret, meaning everyone knew. We were herded into the auditorium, 80’s music blasted, the Duran Duraners came on stage, the kids went nuts. Everyone stood up, jumped up, and screamed . I pointedly complained about all the noise, stood up, faced the back and made a show of how little I thought of the whole thing. What a friendless tool I was.

These were among the top movies of the Eighties:

The Breakfast Club. I have never seen this movie all the way through. In the eighties I was the quiet loner type who was anti-whatever everyone was for. Just like now. Everyone liked this film, so I automatically hated it. Now I won’t see it out of pure stubbornness.

Dream A Little Dream. Never heard of it, but it stars three or four guys named “Corey.”

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Another film I never saw all the way through. What did I like about that film? The Beatles song Ferris sang. Even then I was a man out of time.

Raiders of the Lost Ark. OK, one of the BEST FREAKIN’ FILMS EVER MADE (in your face Kathy!)

Platoon. Gave us the immortal line “Me so horney! Me love you long time!” and just for that deserves it’s spot in history. BTW- It is about some little conflict called Vietnam or something.

Back to the Future. Just to prove that Raiders wasn’t the only good film of the 80’s, here is an absolute classic by anyone’s standard. What, you disagree? You are wrong. I love this film!

And finally, Star Trek II, the Wrath of Khan. The best Trek film ever!

These were among the tip TV shows of the 80’s:

There are only two TV shows worth mentioning here- The A-TEAM! and some show called Dallas where somebody shot somebody else shot named JR but it was all a dream or something?

And world events of the 1980’s:

Well, I don’t know, but I do remember parachute pants and MC Hammer. Or was that the 90’s?

Now that I have wandered through the 1980’s I don’t need to go to my reunion.

This is from the BTHS Alumni website:

THROUGH THE POWER OF TECH ALUMNI, THE BROOKLYN TECH ALUMNI FOUNDATION SUPPORTS THE EXTRAORDINARY EDUCATION AND TRADITIONS OF BROOKLYN TECHNICAL HIGH SCHOOL AND STRENGTHENS THE COMMON BONDS SHARED BY AND AMONG STUDENTS ALUMNI AND STAFF.

This is from me:

HATED YOUR SCHOOL. HATED THE EIGHTIES. GOODBYE.

What did I like about the eighties?

Bill and Ted’s Excellent Cereal. Totally not bogus, filled with marshmallows and sugar. Mmmmmmmmmmm. 

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