Calm Down Buddy, The Animals Aren't Staging A Coup (Yet)

I need to get out more during the week.

Maybe by actually typing that sentence out, I'll no longer justify my walk to the other side of the house to check the mail as "getting out of the house."

Let me break this down: I live in a basement apartment, and for 8-10 hours a day, the only living beings that I'm in direct contact with are my two dogs and two cats.

Don't think you can get Cabin Fever with four animals? Boulder dash. It's gotten to the point that when Cindy gets home, I tattle on the animals.

Example (and I've said this more than once): "Babe, Beau is intentionally trying to piss me off and get my attention. He knocks over the trash so that I'll get up and feed him. He's such an asshole!"

Beau is a cat and has no fucking intention of ruining my day. Neither do the dogs when they do that annoying, frantic run to the kitchen every time I walk near it on the way to the bathroom. Of course, as I'm writing this, I've had dinner, I'm not stressed from work, and Cindy is sitting next to me on the couch, so things are a little clearer at the moment.

Maybe next week I'll try taking a little stroll down the street and grab some lunch. Outside. Away from... them. It's either that or lock them out of my office for ten minutes while I meditate with an Enya song in the background.

Day 6: Mulling a No-Basketball Winter

What the hell am I gonna do without professional basketball in my life all winter? There's no way these guys are going to reach a deal and save the season. T'ain't gonna happen.

Maybe I'll just build and manage my own NBA team on a video game. Better yet, I'll develop my own video game: "NBA Lockout2K." You can play as Player's Union President Derek Fisher and decide which suit he will wear for labor negotiations. You also have the option of choosing three NBA players that will stand behind you and look really tough and pissed off as you talk to the media during press conferences. 


Or maybe I'll just watch lots of college ball.

Day 5: A Drug Dealer Wouldn't Be Caught Dead In That Kitchen

While watching an episode of Breaking Bad, I realized the kitchen in the meth head's house was cleaner than mine. When the episode ended, I immediately got up and did the dishes.

It was two in the morning. 

Day 4: Suck My Hash Mark

I can't be the only one annoyed by ESPN pundits reading tweets from athletes out loud during Sportscenter. It's even better when the unfortunate anchor forced to read the tweet doesn't know Twitter lingo.

"We R so rdy to bust some Denver butt Fri nite,  #blowout."

Really? Did that need to be said? Do we now know more about the inner-workings of LeBron James' psyche via iPhone? The only thing I'm thinking after I hear that is I won't be following LeBron James on Twitter.

Stop trying to be "edgy." Just give us those same horrible, canned sound bytes that athletes have been rattling off for the past hundred years. We love those.

Day 3: Digital Dust

There's something wonderfully Zen about dusting off music that's been sitting in the collection for years without being played (I just realized that because my entire music collection is on the hard drive of my computer, I'll never be able to literally dust off old music anymore--fuck you, technology).

I'm a sucker for radio-friendly rock, and while I've "evolved" a bit into more arsty, goatee-friendly fare, listening to Breaking Benjamin, Third Eye Blind, or The Exies really gets my blood flowing (in a good way--not like the way it does when I watch Hayden Christensen movies...).

Day 2: David Carr's Spicy Peanut Sauce

Alright, so David Carr of the NY Giants had nothing to do with the actual recipe for this sauce. He just happened to be on TV while I was making it, and he was playing really, really shitty. I like to think that me yelling "Dammit, David!" when he threw a terrible pick against the Patriots somehow made my peanut sauce even spicier.

Here's the recipe:
2 tablespoons crunchy peanut butter
3 tablespoons milk
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon Sriracha sauce
Pinch of chili flakes (for extra street cred)

Mix all ingredients together in a small microwave-safe-dish-type-thing. Nuke it for 20 seconds. Slap the sauce on a white fish like Mahi-Mahi, or use as a dip for fried tofu.

In David Carr's defense, he was playing against the Pat's starting D...although that doesn't explain the fumbled snap.

Day 1.5: The mailman hates me

Because of the nature of my job, I depend heavily on the timely delivery of my mail: UPS, Fedex and the US Postal Service are the backbone of my mini-industry. Whenever I move to a new city, one of the first things I do is befriend my local delivery folk by heavily kissing their asses.

I've lived in my little basement apartment in New Haven, Conn for 2 1/2 months now, and I typically see the same delivery people every day--and they're great, great people. They know I'm always home, which has got to be a pretty cool thing if you're a delivery person, because this means you don't have to lug the damn package back to your truck like every other stop where the person is at work.

I have a new mail man. And I see it in his eyes...he says hello, but I know he's thinking "Dude, every day I have to drive up to your house and knock on your door and wait for you to sign for something....I'm sick of getting out of my van, asshole!"

Well, today he didn't. He left me one of those "Sorry we missed you, now you gotta go to the post office and pick up this package youself, buddy" notices.

Fine. I'll leave my house to go to that tomorrow. But this isn't over. I have ten packages coming next week...I'll be whittling wood, waiting on the porch for you.