I woke up with a headache this morning, which always seems unfair when my schedule hasn't allowed for any time to go out the previous evening. It never seems to bode well for the day ahead, though today seems to be going as well as can be expected of a Wednesday.
I saw, in the parking lot at work, what may well be the most odious person in all of creation. I was walking from my car when I was nearly run over by a white BMW 335i driven by a well groomed young blonde. She rolled her eyes in a small fit of pissy entitlement before swerving around me, and as she rolled away, I saw the vanity plates gleaming in the fluorescent lights. J GALT.
I've never hated anyone so much based on 10 seconds. I assume that car runs on the blood of the working man.
On a more positive note, I took my favorite phone call ever at work today. A middle-aged to elderly woman called in, gave her name and told me in a cheerful voice, "I'd prefer to speak to a lady." No problem at all ma'am. I wish every problem that confronted me in life took only five seconds to become someone else's problem.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Hannoi Grilled Pork Specialty
I've been neglecting the blog a little, but it's been in favor of other, more commercially viable writing projects, so you'll have to forgive me.
Friday was payday at the insurance mines, which means this weekend included a fairly pricey trip to the new brakes store. It's nice to have both the going and stopping in more or less working order on my car. I actually saved $70 or so by sleeping so late on Saturday that Midas didn't have time to finish the job before work on Monday and I had to get an estimate from Tires Plus instead. How a car repair business can operate for only a half day per weekend was the subject of considerable confusion, both for me and for the guy at Tires Plus.
In addition to being payday, Friday was also one of my co-workers' birthday, which meant that I was invited to, and for the first time in my life, attended an after-work happy hour with co-workers. At some point in recent weeks, a portion of my training class splintered off into a separate "cool table," and they were fairly insistent both that I attend, and that I repeat several stock anecdotes for the benefit of spouses in attendance.
At some point, my admittedly stentorious banter drew the ire of a lumpy, graying pile of South Suburban privilege and entitlement who told me that I was very loud and that I didn't know anything about communicating with people. The specifics of her remaining complaints were drowned out by my co-workers asking who she thought she was and telling her to go back to her table. Afterward, they told me that I handled the exchange with more politeness than they expected, and I assured them that I had only caught part of her tirade over her extremely loud jacket.
I excused myself from the outing some time after the birthday girl and went to join Joe Mahon for dinner. He suggested Vietnamese and after finding Pho Tau Bay on the verge of closing, we went to a place that had heretofore escaped my attention where I ate one of the best meals of my life. The garrulous Thai woman behind the counter (apparently not an actual employee, just a helpful family friend) amiably bullied both Joe and I into ordering a glass of cane juice with iced tea each, as well as the D-14. It takes about 20 minutes, she told us, but was well worth both the money and the wait. We were both equally impressed, if slightly baffled, by the pressed and rolled pork, sliced over rice noodles and vegetables.
After accepting a round of enthusiastic thanks and compliments for the dinner recommendation, our host politely demanded we each by a sandwich for the road. I did, and was more than delighted to have done so before bed last night, after a night of cocktails and 4-Square at Noah's, when I remembered the precious bahn mi in the refrigerator upstairs. Stevie, who had never had a proper introduction to the cuisine of Vietnam until her small portion of that sandwich, is now insistent that we get some more as soon as possible. I couldn't agree more.
Friday was payday at the insurance mines, which means this weekend included a fairly pricey trip to the new brakes store. It's nice to have both the going and stopping in more or less working order on my car. I actually saved $70 or so by sleeping so late on Saturday that Midas didn't have time to finish the job before work on Monday and I had to get an estimate from Tires Plus instead. How a car repair business can operate for only a half day per weekend was the subject of considerable confusion, both for me and for the guy at Tires Plus.
In addition to being payday, Friday was also one of my co-workers' birthday, which meant that I was invited to, and for the first time in my life, attended an after-work happy hour with co-workers. At some point in recent weeks, a portion of my training class splintered off into a separate "cool table," and they were fairly insistent both that I attend, and that I repeat several stock anecdotes for the benefit of spouses in attendance.
At some point, my admittedly stentorious banter drew the ire of a lumpy, graying pile of South Suburban privilege and entitlement who told me that I was very loud and that I didn't know anything about communicating with people. The specifics of her remaining complaints were drowned out by my co-workers asking who she thought she was and telling her to go back to her table. Afterward, they told me that I handled the exchange with more politeness than they expected, and I assured them that I had only caught part of her tirade over her extremely loud jacket.
I excused myself from the outing some time after the birthday girl and went to join Joe Mahon for dinner. He suggested Vietnamese and after finding Pho Tau Bay on the verge of closing, we went to a place that had heretofore escaped my attention where I ate one of the best meals of my life. The garrulous Thai woman behind the counter (apparently not an actual employee, just a helpful family friend) amiably bullied both Joe and I into ordering a glass of cane juice with iced tea each, as well as the D-14. It takes about 20 minutes, she told us, but was well worth both the money and the wait. We were both equally impressed, if slightly baffled, by the pressed and rolled pork, sliced over rice noodles and vegetables.
After accepting a round of enthusiastic thanks and compliments for the dinner recommendation, our host politely demanded we each by a sandwich for the road. I did, and was more than delighted to have done so before bed last night, after a night of cocktails and 4-Square at Noah's, when I remembered the precious bahn mi in the refrigerator upstairs. Stevie, who had never had a proper introduction to the cuisine of Vietnam until her small portion of that sandwich, is now insistent that we get some more as soon as possible. I couldn't agree more.
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