I love these lazy tuesdays, not like that fake tuesday that almost got me fired

My life once again paralleled that of Larry David's yesterday. When I was on my way to the bathroom in O'Connell House, I had to walk through the kitchen where people were setting up for the tea hour held every Monday evening. Now, I only had to urinate, but since there's only one man who woks continuously in the building and he uses an upstairs lavatory, there is never any soap in the men's first floor restroom (not to mention that the lock doesn't work. Let's just say if I ever had to go number 2 I would either use the handicap or run the risk of the women's toilet). Since I would never walk out of a bathroom without washing my hands, I stealthily snuck into the women's to steal some soap. I guess this extra trip made it seem like I must have been reading the newspaper in there, but when I went back through the kitchen, someone said, "That was long." While I tried to explain that there was no soap in the men's room, I was drowned out by everyone having a good laugh at my expense. Well, now I can never use that bathroom ever again. This story is probably totally inappropriate, but I thought it epitomized my time here.

By the way, what are the rules on waiting for people to walk? If you're walking to the same place, leaving the same place, do you have to wait for that other person? IT's not like they don't know the way. It's not like I'm Sacajawea and we're going through uncharted waters. Why do I have to wait for people if we're walking to the train station. In the past week, I've been criticized for not waiting to walk with other people to the train station. Each time the arguing has made me miss the earlier train.

So I was wasting time today and I remembered how my dad ruined the filming of a Jessica Biel-Aaron Eckhart movie last summer. I wondered, whatever happened to that movie? Apparently Bill is coming out this fall, and when I was looking at stills, one is taken from right across the street of our house. If you were to remove Aaron Eckhart from the picture and look up by about ten feet, you'd be staring into my old room. I think I might have a case to receive royalties from this movie. They never received any permission to use our house. In fact, my dad was so adamant that they not film there, that he refused to let them park in front of our house. When they did so anyway, he drove through the cones they used to block off the street while filming. We're hoping to make the DVD commentary.

Since I've been here, I find myself eating a lot of fruit. It's cheap and you don't have to cook it. I never ate fruit that often back home (I remember one person in particular accusing me of extending subconscious homophobic attitudes to my diet as the reason behind this aversion). Well, now that I'm eating more of it I now remember why I hate eating it. It's too messy. Even if I were a brain surgeon, I don't think I could peel an orange without getting my pants soaked in juice and pulp. Apples are a bit of a different story; I never feel satisfied after eating one. I see apple on the core, but I know I can't eat it. I'm still hungry because I know there's more to the apple that I haven't eaten. Can you tell that I'm putting off work yet?

I should probably shave. Or get a haricut. I'm beginning to look pretty haggard. In a couple of days I wouldn't be surprised if I were mistaken for the late, great Rod Beck. Rod Beck represents an era of baseball that is long gone: looks over talent. He didn't really have dominating stuff, besides a fu manchu and mullet, but it was enough to make him an all-star. It was an era that saw a relatively talentless Philadelphia Phillies team make it to the world series on the grease in their hair. The 1993 Phillies. Perhaps baseball's ugliest team ever? Nay, the ugliest grouping of people ever, outside of that time Golda Meir met with Richard Nixon. (Note: even I was surprised to find that photo). But seriously, look at the list of greaseballs on this team: Darren Daulton, Mickey Morandini, Mitch Williams, John Kruk, Dave Hollins, pre-John Birch Society Curt Schilling, Tommy Greene, Lenny Dykstra,Mark Davis, Terry Mulholland, Danny Jackson, Pete Incaviglia, and Larry Anderson. Through a very cursory research method, I've determined that all these guys had mullets at one point or another during their professional career. That's more than half the roster and 4/5 of the starting rotation. The players on this team liked the astro-turf at Veterans so much, they used it for carpet in their double wides. They also had Jim Eisenreich. He didn't have a mullet, but was still pretty darn ugly, even though he suffered from Tourette's syndrome. Although this team looked more fit to operate a Tilt-a-Whirl than a baseball team, they still managed to win the NL. The 1993 Phillies were a truly groundbreaking team: they proved that all ugly looking people could succeed, unless of course you groove a fastball to Joe Carter. Then you're just another ugly looking guy who turns into a headcase.