RandomCha

Last night’s party for Andy turned out really well I thought. People let their hair down without getting too crazy or embarrassing themselves, and I think I was able to get at least a little quality time with everyone who came. Of the two punches I served, Tonga Punch and Scorpion Bowl, the first was the best in my opinion. Here’s the recipe (Rob-tested and approved):

TONGA PUNCH

64 oz. orange juice
juice 12 lemons
juice of 12 limes
15 oz. curacao
48 oz. light rum
6 oz. grenadine

Combine all ingredients in punch bowl. Stir well, and serve with ice.

The hit of the party was Andy’s VHS tape, which we had playing all night long in the back parlor. It’s basically a compilation video that Andy put together a long time ago of vintage commercials dating from the late 70’s through the mid-80’s (when Andy was growing up, his dad compulsively recorded stuff on TV and usually included all the commercials). It was amusing to watch people last night, sitting there on the futon watching old commercials and providing a running commentary. Things I noticed: women’s suits used to have lots of bows, feminine hygiene and diaper ads used to be a lot more graphic, and the kid’s toys of yesteryear would probably be incredibly boring to today’s youngsters.

We got to bed at 3. I’ve felt a wit woobly today (not wobbly, woobly) but have enjoying napping repeatedly and reading At Home with the Marquis de Sade. Back to work tomorrow.

Numbed. I am numb. I’ll have some more coffee but I don’t think that’ll snap me out of it.

Shouldn’t it be Thursday? Yes, it should, but it’s only Wednesday.  It’s been a tiring week. The day-to-day grind of the job has been wearing me down. In the afternoons I come home to more work, but the kind I’d rather do. The kind that you can’t earn a living at, unlessyou’re lucky. Working hard is only one part of it; the other part is being in the right place at the right time, and who can control that? Not getting the WTTW job was hard, but not the end of the world. What will be harder is finding something that I really WANT. It’s hard to know what one wants. It’s much easier to know what one doesn’t want. A process of elimination can only go so far. It’s not enough to get out of something. Because at the same time you have to get into something else.

Okay, I’m rambling.

Last night we saw Hot Fuzz and I loved it, very very funny. What really makes the movie work is that not only is it a satire of the buddy-buddy action movie, it actually employs the same aesthetic techniques and plotting of the genre. Which makes the jokes even funnier (and even weirdly off-putting, in a good way). At a certain point about 3/4 of the way through the story just gets incredibly silly, and I experienced a sense of disappointment because I thought everything was finally played out. But THEN things got even SILLIER, and sillier; sillier beyond even my wildest expectations, and I realized that by raising the stakes and continuing to ratchet up the tension (just like every other buddy-buddy action movie) Hot Fuzz had just pulled off the cleverest trick I’d seen in a long time: it actually surprised me. It throws in a very funny Chinatown reference too. All in all a great comedy. It was amusing to see Timothy Dalton get pummeled about too.

The season finale of SNL last night was pretty mediocre; couldn’t handle a candle to last week’s Molly Shannon episode. I guess the cast and crew and the writers are just ready for a vacation.

Made a decision: for Andy’s party we will begin with the Tonga Punch and then move on to the Scorpion Bowl for round #2.

Lurid Phil Spector/Trader Vic’s connection:

” … Trader Vic’s general manager Chai Rojana testified this morning, meanwhile, that the Navy Grogs Spector ordered are signature drinks that contain three shots of rum apiece. Bartender Ming Fong Chu added that he serves the cocktail up in a 15-ounce glass …”

John Cage sums it up for me quite well:

I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY AND
I AM SAYING IT AND
THAT IS POETRY

What an anticlimax: I just found out that I didn’t get the job. Which, by the way, was for an assistant producing position at WTTW, a local PBS station.

O well. Really. If anything, this experience has proven that I’m really ready to get out there and interview, and to keep at it till I find something worth doing. In the meantime, I’ll just keep doing my current stupid job and collecting the not-insubstantial paychecks.

In good news, I’m currently tearing my way through The Murrow Boys … what an awesome book.

Okay, I’ve finally scanned and uploaded the photos from my London trip. That is, the ones that came out decently. I’m 99% sure that the airport x-ray machines fogged my film. Perhaps twice. Which really ticks me off.

Anyway here they are along with a random shot of my apartment.

What a totally schizo week. 

On the one hand, each work day has more or less been like journeying through various circles of hell. And yesterday, if not for a reserve of self-control, I would have totally lost it and quit on the spot. 

On the other hand, I’ve had two amazing evenings in a row, two really awesome dinners with friends. Neither of which I had to pay for. Wednesday night I went with Greg A. to the Gage, a new restaurant across the street from Millennium Park. It was superb. It was also (including tip) $153. But I wasn’t paying because I was there in my official capacity as restaurant reviewer for the Reader. Last night I went out to dinner with my old friend Derrick, who’s briefly in town from NYC. I took him to Las Pinatas because he was hankering for some good Mexican (he says NYC is terrible for that) and he wasn’t disapointed.  We had some great margaritas, conversation and he picked up the tab.
He’s a John Edwards supporter and I’m for Obama, so needless to say we had a rather animated discussion about that.

I hope I hear real early next week about the job. Whatever the news is, I want to start making concrete plans to get the heck out of this office. 

Looptopia tonight. Dunno how late I’m gonna stay out. These bones are old.

I feel like quitting right now. Right now, right here. Just quitting this job and saying, “See ya later.” I really, really do hope I get good news next week, or I’m afraid of what might happen. 

The big boss is going on vacation off and on for the next month, my office manager is going on vacation off and on for the next month, and one of our co-workers here in the office is being taken away from his usual duties so that he can “handle the forklift during the construction phase.” He’s fucking being taken away from his usual duties SO THAT HE CAN HANDLE THE FORKLIFT. Guess who gets to pick up his slack? Take a wild guess. Oh, that would be ME. HIS job requires constant attention and MY job requires constant attention, and now yours truly has to do both just so that he can HANDLE THE FORKLIFT. That basically leaves TWO OF US TO HANDLE ALL THE WORK IN THE OFFICE, one of whom has just started a new regimen of meds and may or may not be at 100% each day.

Screw it.