ski trip soak trip was a success, Jets.
I lived up to the hype and didn’t ski because I’m a lazy hero. It wasn’t 15 minutes after entering the rented lodge that I was put in charge by family members to get the hot tub going. These responsibilities included taking the cover off and making sure nobody drowned. If I’m being honest, I give myself a C- for my leadership duties. There was one injury (6 year old slipped running towards it), a nude entry (9 year old jumped in naked), and many people exceeded the recommended 15 minute time-limit, including myself.
I’m a hot tub enthusiast, not a lifeguard.
The whole weekend was a treat and driving through the back roads of Maine was a wonderful, solitary experience. I was alone and found myself driving past areas where former clients used to live. I was nostalgic for those kids and the vicious bites they used to give me. Love bites. So much love and so much blood.
As I was driving, I hit the scan button on the radio as I sometimes do. Maine is funny because when you hit the scan button you can only do it about three times. If you’re on 92.3 in Boston and hit the scan-up button, you’ll probably hit 92.9 next. It’s a short scan, and another push will land you at 93.7 or something. IN MAINE, if you’re on 98.7, and hit scan, you may end up all the way back to where you started. It’s a cyclical endeavor and is the perfect radio-metaphor for Maine.
So, it wasn’t my first time landing on this station:
I’m listening to 89.3 as some psycho tails me. I’m already going 15 mph over the speed-limit which for a mature man like myself, is risky behavior. I haven’t endured that type of riskiness since I went from hot tub, to steam, to sauna, and back to hot tub. Both experiences were equally wild.
So I’m trying to maintain my integrity as a man, driving ahead of the pscyho, and I can’t help but recognize I’m listening to a real GEM on the radio. It’s that rock-type song with a real good singer that you don’t hear much of these days. It’s totally 90s and everything I like about the world. It’s Better than Ezra meets Nine Days and if you get those references, lets’ be friends.
The song ends and ANOTHER gem comes on. But this time, I’m fully in tune with the chorus. The chorus was all Jesus. ALL Jesus. And I then realized that 89.3 was Maine’s awesome Jesus station. Guys, I liked the songs so much that I considered redefining my religious beliefs. SO many problems have started with pretentious religious people when all they had to do was put on 89.3. Pretty sure the Pope is going about this all wrong. That 20-something year old singer, with that sweet raspy voice could have laid to rest all my doubts about the Trinity and let me tell you, I have some doubts. I even asked Siri “What song is this?” to which Siri took a LONG ASS time to respond because she was wondering if I was serious. I was serious and I still am. But at the ski-lodge it was more about Beiber. LOTS of Beiber this weekend.
MY MAMA DON’T LIKE YOU AND SHE LIKES EVERYONE
Anyways, I’m only writing this post for therapeutic reasons. The Patriots lost to the Broncos and that cuts deeper than anything Selena may have done to Justin. I ended up watching the game by myself which was kind of nice, but by the end of the game, I was pacing around like a fucking fiend looking for cops outside my window. There’s just nowhere to turn when it’s the end. I didn’t know what to do with myself so I did what most depressed people do–I went to sleep. 9 PM. 3 hours earlier than normal.
The good news is I’m still going to San Francisco with or without Tom Brady.
I don’t know what it is about flying but when I fly I instantly feel like a celebrity. Now, you would think that would mean I never fly with grandiose thoughts like that but I do. I’m a fairly well-versed traveler but every time I’m waiting at the gate I’m looking around and thinking how important I look. 50% of the time I get those airport massages that cost about $100 and half of your integrity. And then ON THE PLANE, forget it. Billions of miles in the air and I literally and figuratively feel above people. If that’s wrong I never want to be right, guys. Don’t get me started on how the TV screen shows you where you are flying on the map. Some people think I’m just looking blankly at that screen but I’m not. I’m absolutely riveted.
I don’t drink anymore but a scotch on the rocks (something I never drank) is just a power move on a plane. I have replaced it by taking out my laptop because if you’re on a laptop on a plane you must be doing something important. Sometimes I have tried to write but I get all weirded out, thinking people are looking at what I’m writing. I wonder if Shark Tank has come up with a product that is like a cape you can wear while doing these important things. I want NOBODY in my cave of importance. Don’t steal my blog ideas, you peasant. It can’t look like this though because 100% of people would think you’re masterbating.
If you’d like me to
LiveJournal Liveblog my airport trip, let me know. I’d be happy to do it and there’s just so much good people-watching to do at an airport. It’s better than the train because there’s so much more mystery. On a train you just know people are going to and from work and hate their lives. So much more complex with the airport. Where is SHE going? Did they just have a fight? Is he a pro basketball player or is he just tall and black?