Stay tuned; the elephant will come into play later.

Hooray, I’ve been writing again!!  I wrote two plays last week.  It felt so good to get back to my old self.  More to come on if these new plays will ever have an audience.

You may not know this about me, but there are two things I’m very good at: eating and sleeping.  I hate to be boastful, but yeah… I can sleep.  So well.  It’s a gift.  I also enjoy eating.  My wife makes fun of me all the time because I’ll heat up a microwave dinner and eat it, then repeat the process three or four more times to achieve what I would call “dinner”.  When Mer and I go out to eat we sit at the biggest table we can find, because we know we’re going to order everything.  Seriously, whatever restaurant we end up going to, our table still looks like the smoke pit at Medieval Times.  Every time we go grocery shopping we fill the cart so full that it looks like we just bought our refrigerator and are filling it for the first time.  I eat when I am happy and when I am sad, and I find comfort in food.  Wednesday I helped a friend move, and-

Actually, I have to dive a little deeper into that one before finishing out the eating story.  Friends help friends move because they care about each other; no one likes moving shit.  No one.  You know how they say if you do what you love, you’ll never “work” a day in your life?  Yeah, well, professional movers work.  The most maladjusted person in the world, who finds joy in kicking puppies, still hates moving.  The happiest person in the world, the most chivalrous, the most altruistic; none of these people enjoy the process of moving.  We help our friends because it sucks so much, and we get to spend time with them.  Sometimes they even buy you pizza.  The moving that I did Wednesday, in the rain, was of this detestable caliber, without the one silver lining of moving: the friend I was helping wasn’t there.  He’s in Philadelphia.  I rented a U-Haul, went to his old apartment and met his old roommate (who for some reason was not doing the job that I was sent to do, even though all the shit was in his apartment), picked up all his shit, carried it down a very narrow staircase, loaded it in the truck, drove over an hour to Camp Pendleton (thanks to the rain), met another stranger (who was very nice, I must say), unloaded the shit in his garage, drove over an hour back home, parked the U-Haul on the street two blocks from my apartment, gassed it up in the morning and returned it to the rental yard.  I did all of this alone.  No laughter, no smiles, no pizza.  Just KYXY, 96.5, Not Your Momma’s Soft Rock.

So, after all this fun, I wanted to be comforted in the way that only food can.  So I went to Schlotzsky’s and ordered two sandwiches to go, then drove to Bronx Pizza and sat down to two slices and a soda.  I would’ve ordered a whole pie and brought it home, but then I’d have to share it with my wife, and one of our strongest bonds as a couple is our mutual aversion to sharing food.  Even with each other.  We take fierce ownership over our food.  It’s romantic.

So, tonight I’m going to dinner with Mer and a few of her friends at a lovely Italian tapas place near our apartment.  The purpose of this dinner is to meet our friend Melissa’s new man.  This is exciting because Melissa has a tendency to date very manly men; Old Spice and Dr. Pepper 10 men.  Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m manly.  After all, I’m an expert eater and sleeper (we covered this, try to keep up).  But most of the dudes that she dates that I’ve met make me look like the gayest man alive in comparison.  Here’s an average conversation I’d have with a new suitor of hers:

{for this re-enactment, the suitor will be played by Chuck Norris, and the part of me will be played by Rip Taylor}

Chuck Norris:  Did you catch the game last night?

Rip Taylor:  No, I don’t really… follow… sport.  Did you know that’s how they say it in Europe?  Sport.  Singular.  Doesn’t that seem queer, um, strange?

Chuck:  I didn’t catch it, either.  I was hoping you knew the score. 

Rip:  I rarely know the score.

Chuck:  Yeah, last night I blew up a bridge, killed a tiger with my bare hands, punched an elephant so hard that it splintered into seven aardvarks, and then I ate a dog.

Rip:  Have you been watching 30 Rock?  That Tina Fey is so funny!  I’m reading her book right now; she’s got some great ideas.

So, yeah, that’ll be me later.  Fun!

As I was writing the other night, I put my iPod in the Bose dock we got this past Christmas and just let it shuffle.  There are 4900 songs on my iPod, and the lion’s share of those songs are nu-metal alternative hate anthems.  Much to my surprise, all I heard for over an hour were slow subdued songs that enhanced my creative muse and helped me to finish the script I was working on.  I didn’t discover until the iPod unexpectedly stopped playing that I had inadvertently selected a playlist I’d made called “Seriously, Life Sucks, Get a Fucking Helmet”.  It is all music selected with the sole purpose of bumming out people at the restaurant when I’m trying to close and need the “guests” to leave.  I discovered, though, that it’s also excellent writing music, and so I shall share the track listing with you now so that you may reap its benefits:

“No One’s Gonna Love You” -Band of Horses / “Everybody Hurts” – R.E.M. / “Untouchable Face” – Ani DiFranco / “Brick” – Ben Folds Five / “Hyperballad” – Bjork / “In a Lonely Place” – Bush / “Strangers on 5” – Centaur / “O Mio Babbino Caro” – Charlotte Church / “Someone to Watch Over Me” – Chet Baker / “Run” – Collective Soul / “Remember to Breathe” – Dashboard Confessional / “What Sarah Said” – Death Cab for Cutie / “Detlef Schrempf” – Band of Horses / “transatlanticism” – Death Cab for Cutie / “Reasons for Living” – Duncan Sheik / “Miss Misery” – Elliott Smith / “As Long as it Matters” –  Gin Blossoms / “Apollo” – Hum / “With You” – Ill Nino / “Only You” – Joshua Radin / “Guitar, Flute, and String” – Moby / “Um…” – Onelinedrawing / “God Only Wants You” – Ours

Go forth and create!  Or cry.  Whatever.