Scene: Early Wedneday morning, kitchen. Micah is putting on coffee, I have just woken up and walked into the kitchen. On Sunday I had been told the "tile guy" was coming to fix the bathroom tile on Monday.
Micah: 'Morning.
Me: Hey
Micah: The tile guy is coming this morning.
Me: Damnit! Have the past two days been a dream again!?
Micah: No, he's coming to re-patch.
Me:...Oh.

I don't think the Streetwise guy on the corner of my block likes me very much. Not that I need the validation of a newspaper-selling homeless person (and I honestly didn't intend for that to sound mean), but it's just a hassle. The other day he asked, like usual, "Streetwise?" to which I said "Sorry. But you have a nice night," to which he kinda shrugged his shoulders, grumbled something, and gave me a less-than-pleasant look. Then the other day he saw me approaching and started yelling out whatever headline was on Streetwise that week, and I shrugged my shoulders and said sorry. "Broke?" he asked. "Yeah," I replied. "Well guess what? So am I!!" he yelled to me as I walked away. Perhaps I should move.

The other day a plant of mine died (Josh? A dead plant? Yes, knowing me that's not hard to believe), and I decided it deserved a proper burial. So I wrapped it in the Garden section of the the sunday Trib (Do ya see the irony? Do ya see?), put it into a shoebox, and then took it down to the dumpster to, well, get rid of it. I stood there, holding the box over the dumpster, and I felt it only appropriate to say a few words of remembering towards the plant. It was at this point that another guy who lives in my building came out to throw out of bag of trash and, noticing me talking to a shoebox I was about to throw into a dumpster, gave me an odd look. Perhaps I should move.

So I watched Miss America the other night for the first time ever, and I've got to say: Not that great. First off, the show was hosted by Wayne Brady, who seemed to be under the impression that going from hosting his own prime-tim show, to hosting a show with women telling how they would "make the world a better place" is a step up. He opened with a beautiful redition of 'America, America', only to segue into a cheesy bass-driven version of James Brown's 'Living in America.' Wayne..for shame.

My early favorite was Miss North Dakota, who was very hotsy totsy. Then there was Miss South Dakota who was..well...hotsy NOTsy. Ah, what a difference north and south make. Miss North Dakota was quickly eliminated. It was all downhill from there.

My favorite moment of the show came when they were talking to the women who had been "kicked out" early on, and were being kept backstage. "How do you feel being out so early, honestly?" Miss Who-knows-where was asked. "I'm fine. Really. I figured it's all part of Gods plan." Let me tell you something honey: If there is a God and if he does have a plan, it doesn't include picking Miss America, okay? He's got better things to do. He's God.

#173 on the list of things that makes my head hurt:

I was listening to the radio the other night, and the DJ introduced this song. First off, it was a remake of the Walter Murphy song A Fifth of Beethoven, which is a remake (obviously!) of Beethoven's 5th. So the man is doing a remake of a remake! Are we finally out of ideas!? Secondly - and this in my opinion makes it even odder still - is the fact that the guy is the son of Alan Thicke, the dad on Growning Pains. And to sprinkle a little salt in that wound, the name he's going by is...just plain Thicke. Get me the asprin now.

I can tell you - right now, without hesitation, and pinpoint exactly - why I am not a stud.

Guys who have girls say to them, "Oh, the other night I left my sweater at your house," or "Y'know, I left my stockings at your place last night," - those guys are studs.

The other day a girl said to me, "I left my voter registration application at your house the other night." I am not a stud.

I write to you now, having barely survived the last part of the fashion show I wrote about on Sunday. The first two designers (my friend Khatia and a girl Lara), were very good, but the last one (The Neo Futurist of Tomorrow) had me scared for my life several times. All of his models came out wearing things made with leather and rubber, and dark, and scary and...and...they were throwing around fire! They were actually slinging things with fire on them, and I felt as if I were actually in the movie Tank Girl, or Waterworld, or perhaps even Mad Max. It was very, very scary.

On a lighter note...fall is finally here. If this isn't evident in the air being a bit chillier, the sky being a bit more overcast, or coats being a bit heavier, then it shows in the fact that my morning Starbucks the other day consisted of a hot chocolate instead of a frappuccino or a tazoberry. Ah, fall: I welcome you, and all the Starbucks drinks that you get me to drink.

So I'm going to a fashion show tonight (that's correct, an actual fashion show with models, and a catwalk, and music), and I'm very interested to see how it turns out. A "friend" of mine is a designer in it, and a bunch of people are going so...when in Rome... Anyway, I was reading about some of the designers and lines that are going to be in the show, and one of the designers - a skinhead named Matt - has a line of clothes called Crisiswear. Crisiswear is hailed as post-apocalyptic urban street wear; I'm already afraid of these clothes. Matt himself is hailed as the "Neo Futurist of Tomorrow." Actually thinking about what that means makes my head hurt. Time will tell.

...I started writing my blog this morning, and halfway through the first sentence I thought, "Hmm, it's September 11th...maybe I shouldn't be writing goofy dumb things." That being said, today's blog (a series of odd lists of things that I've done), will be in my next blog.

Last night I was flipping through the television, and of course there was a special on September 11th on, and there were a bunch of firemen talking. And a lot of them were saying that when the planes first hit nobody thought it was a huge deal. "Oh yeah, this might be an 'all dayer' they said. One guy recalled how he wanted to go to the towers but instead they were dispatched to somewhere else because some guy had his foot stuck in a turnstile. All the firefighters on this show said they even though at first they were dispatched other places they went to the towers, despite their orders. They were firefighters, and this was a huge deal, and they wanted to be there. It's amazing how some people can be so brave.

Ah ha! AH....HA! Keds for men live!

At the Keds website I found:
"After a 17 year hiatus, PRO-Keds are back for the new generation. Characterized by a blend of classic design, contemporary colors and modern touches, the new styles will interest even the most discriminating trendsetter. Visit www.prokeds.com for more information."

So I stand corrected (and quite content), and I see that there is hope, even at the end of the darkest tunnel.

Perhaps I'm going to be labled effeminate for this, but I enjoy Keds...the shoes. So I went to their website today and my suspicions were confirmed when I realized they don't sell mens shoes. However, when I investiged their site further, I became confused. They have the categories of Womens and Childrens. Does this mean they have shoes for boys? I clicked on Childrens and then they had the categories of Keds Girl, Keds Kid, and Keds Baby. Exactly what kind of gender bending riff raff are they trying to weave into a piece of wool, and subsequently pull over our eyes?