So, I live with my parents. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking – well, maybe not. But you’re probably thinking a) It’s a bad economy and you don’t make enough money to live alone or b) No, it’s not in their basement. It’s the same room I’ve been living in since I was 13. Oh, my goodness. Ten years? I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic…is it hot in here? (Yes, yes it is. It is always hot in here) No bunk bed though…bit of an improvement. Wow, I’m off track. I was talking with my Dad in the kitchen as he was fixing his pogo stick (yes, ladies and gentlemen, my super-serious-lawyer-bluetooth-wearing-father does extreme pogo-sticking…the kind that could potentially jump over taxi cabs, or in our case a Honda) when a transformer blew. It was loud. Clearly like something exploding. I don’t know why, but my Dad and I both ducked. Why is it that our primal response to a really loud noise is ducking? Like ducking will save me from a bullet or an explosion? It seems completely irrational. (Back on track…once again) Our house is right next to the “bike path”, so the power lines are in our side yard. And bits of the transformer were by our front door (50 feet away). And all over the yard. Apparently they used to be made of glass but these were made of some type of thick plastic or ceramic or something. We picked up most of the pieces with the utility guys who then asked if there was a dead squirrel anywhere (apparently they are the culprits for many a blown transformer). I said that it’s possible he could have flown onto the roof.
Obviously, the power was out on the whole street and our creepy neighbors across the street were standing out in their driveway watching. What defines creepy? Well, there are like seven working cars in the driveway but you only ever see two people come out of the house (man and a boy). But the cars change positions in the driveway. And the man comes out right around the time I get home from work every day to smoke a cigarette while he drives around the neighborhood on his little light blue moped. How does that even work? And sometimes, they’ll just be standing out in the driveway. That’s it. Not doing anything. Just standing…and watching, I guess. They are like Boo Radleys*. Just watching. Creepily. Thankfully not stabbing themselves in the thigh with scissors…so, I guess not that creepy.
And I felt even worse because of course I brought my camera out and took photos of the utility guys. Doing their jobs. And then one of the guys took of his shirt. Uhh…yuck. No, thank you. No, thank you!!! Put it back on!! Put it back on!!! I stopped taking photos then.
Oh, and yesterday was the release of the ever-famous, super hyped iPad 3. How is it different from the last one? No one knows! Why is it popular? Again, no one knows! Who really cares? Apparently, no one because everyone is willing to plop down $500 bucks and a day off of work to get one. Apparently, when my Dad signed for his iPad, the FedEx delivery guy said that he had delivered 50 iPads already and with every single delivery, someone was home to sign for it. Now, that is dedication, ladies and gentlemen. Or obsession. Or sad. At one point during the day, a package came…but it was fabric for my Mom. He was dissapointed…to say the least. Denise, the FedEx delivery woman for my work, delivered one for one of the VPs (of course). Honestly, I can see their uses. My Dad and many of his coworkers use the iPad for work and it finds its purpose there. Better a slim iPad than a bulky laptop or a Mead notebook, I suppose. While it can’t substitute a laptop entirely, it does do many of the same things…and I’m not arguing (What? Fine. I was a little). I am buying my Dad’s old iPad…Shush! I know! I’m a hypocrite! But I can’t help it. I’ve always been an extreme and unashamed bandwagoner. I hate those people that pretend to act all nonchalant about trends. Oh, that’s not for me. What? That’s lame. While they secretly do whatever it is at home…like Helga having that bubblegum shrine of Arnold in her closet (Hey Arnold). It’s just unhealthy. Psht. Not me! MySpace? On board. Facebook? Sure thing! DeviantArt? Sounds artsy!! Pinterest? You know it! Spotify? Don’t really know what it is but sign me up! Twitter? You know, I’ve never really liked Twitter. I’ve seen so many people use it as an enabler/temptation for stalkers and I’m just not into it. I’m going to the bathroom! Ew. No one wants to know that. I’m going to a party at the corner of 1st and Main at a club called Floyd’s and I’ll be there from 11pm to 3am and then I’ll be going to my friends house on Jackson Ave to hang out. Seriously? I can see its business purposes [pretty much free marketing…and by that I definitely do not mean Kim Kardashian “tweeting” (doesn’t that just sound dumb?) nude photos of herself]…otherwise? Nah.