Three More Days

Right. I better start watching some movies again soon, or I'll have to change the name of this blog to Dax Writes an Awful Lot About His Unexciting Personal Life and Watches a Movie... Occasionally. To that end, I planned to rent Running Scared starring Paul Walker, a film I briefly noted in a previous post but it took so long to finally hit theatres and then was gone so quickly that I never got the chance. Well, guess what popped up on a list of "Customer Recommendations" at that charming little video shop I often visit? Yeah. A friend said "It's kinda like Pulp Fiction, Dude" At which point I had to choke down the bile and bits of pear, and titter (straight guys can titter), and reply "Don't you wanna sell me on this film?" In fairness, looking at it from an unbiased point of view, I'd have to say that Pulp Fiction was, for whatever it was, well done. I really didn't like it, like Ali doesn't like insects, the first time I saw it because I didn't understand it, and more accurately didn't want to believe that Hollywood would pay money to make this type of film. I still don't really understand it, but I accept that some people, like (big fat) Sissy, find this movie funny. Did I mention that I'm gonna be an uncle? I'm trying my best to find a good mohel, but in this city everyone knows a good mohel. That's why Sissy is fat, I'm not saying it to be mean, it's a fact. The whole bris thing has given me a great idea for a t-shirt, but Looch says that it's too niche. In her words, "Only the finocchios would buy that one. The set up costs would kill my profits."

I resent it, just a little bit that Ali can take a week and a half off from her job, while I have to sit in a warehouse stuffing boxes. I often wonder why employers encourage their employees to come up with new business ideas. It might not be completely accurate, but I kinda get the impression that Looch is using my business acumen against me.

This week has been kinda tough. Classes started again and I missed my usual lecture because I was too busy working on a paper. I ended up attending Wednesday's lecture. Never again! The lecturer is the same dude, but the facilities are totally different. On Wednesday, he ends up hand writing everything and standing in front of the overhead half the time so you can't read what he wrote. And then there was the overly chatty guy who decided to sit right next to me and chit chat the whole first half - and various other people who thought the lecture was just another version of dinner theatre. People, I know the lectures are technically not mandatory and your money makes the course happen, but at least have the decency not to slurp your sodas while the rest of us are trying to learn and ignore the smell of onions on your double cheeseburger at the same time. A coffee and a nosh - fine, but one must draw the line. Dax, you can't change the world - you can only change yourself. Sure, so I'm gonna forget Wednesday's lecture - the lecture I walked out of at the break.

On the way home, my stomach was wanting a little attention so the closest place between campus and my flat was a place I used to hang out at after work. Everything was cool - a few familiar faces all remembering me, no angry Filipinos repeatedly threatening to kill me, so it was okay. I had my usual, House Burger - no onion, not toasted with a pint of lager and a shot of Jagermeister. I sent the burger back because the bun was in fact toasted. When the bartender returned it, I examined it for spittle and then determined that perhaps the first bun had not been toasted, instead it may have been a very thick type of quality bread.

And then, my old boss walked in - not the old guy whom I tore a strip off when I quit, but his boss, the boss of bosses. The really straight-laced type who always looks at you like he's got a terrifying secret that you mustn't find out, and also an oddly placed moustache that makes it all that much easier to imagine that perhaps his terrifying secret is that he's into leather and that he prefers bottom. Well, the moustache is gone now, but he always sits away from everyone else with his soup (who the hell goes to a sports bar to have soup?) which makes me think he's trying to hide his secret even more. I don't think he recognized me at first, but as I left I looked back and he was looking up from his evening paper and I waved. He peered down through his reading glasses and gave me a perfectly English smile - the smile that says that one is not necessarily happy to see someone or that one isn't quite sure why a really fit guy listening to the Arctic Monkeys on the iPod is waving to him from halfway across the bar, but nevertheless must smile to be polite.

That's when I remembered why I stopped going to that bar - I have a way of overhearing other conversations and it's not like I'm trying, really I'm not - but it occurred to me that the guy sitting to my immediate left was trying to steal the guy sitting to his left away from my former employer which would have been really, really stupid considering that my former employer was sitting at the back of the bar and could surveil the situation quite easily. The thing that made it difficult was that the guy to the left of the guy to my left was unknown to me. It's quite possible that he started at the firm sometime after I left, but the other difficulty was that I couldn't really tell who was trying to steal whom. I determined that the guy to my left was the actor in that situation and that the guy to the far left was the agent. Wait - that's confusing unless you've studied syntax. The guy to my immediate left was doing the stealing - he had a southern accent and kept talking about Texas like that was where he was recruiting from, and besides he wasn't my former employer's usual, overly-priced-for-what-you-get, extremely hands-off recruiter. And the guy on the far end looked like the young, go-getter type that my former employer would normally employ, but who really had to put himself first in every situation and would jump at a better chance if he felt it would get him further ahead. Eventually, I decided that my sense of agency did not extend to my former employer and that I owed him no such duty and left.

Where was I? Oh yeah, I wanted to get Running Scared, but I ended up going to the lecture instead and then leaving half way through. I'm pretty sure that because of my actions this evening, I'm going to be hooped when it comes time to write the next paper but its been weird without Ali around. Three more days...