My victorious Black Friday experience

Today was my first time ever participating in an American ritual known to all as Black Friday. I capitalize it because I'm not sure if it's a holiday or not. People seem to talk about it like it is. Never-the-less, I was nervous and excited for what was about to take place. I even remember hearing old folk legends of people being trampled and shot on this very infamous day. I suppose all this hype makes it feel dangerous to go out there and shop for the best deals on flat screen TV's and laptop computers. Of course I came ready with a parka and my best right hook for whatever was about to happen. First objective: obtain awesome computer for Rick, my boss (he's in Barbados and can't be here to buy the computer for himself). My online search the for said computer led me to the front door of the local Radio Shack; great deal. Doors open at 5:30AM. On the very morning of the sale, I wake up at 4:30 and scurry down there. Adrenaline pumping. The excitement of the hunt overcomes all drowsiness. I arrive at the store and wait on the cold damp sidewalk in front of the dimly lit entrance (behind four individuals who were also desperate for the same computer I was). It feels colder and colder. The man who came shortly after me seemed to have a walkie talkie conversation going on with his wife. Apparently he had been unsuccessful at Wal-Mart and was looking to redeem himself at Radio Shack. It had been about half an hour and the manager timidly poked out the entrance. He regretfully explained that the store only had one laptop for sale that morning. One?! Are you kidding me?! (I actually said this out loud as he bore the bad news. Not like typing "lol" and not actually laughing; this is an accurate quote) Anyway, I shook the dust of Radio Shack off me feet and kept going. Confused on where to go really. I needed a laptop and all the other stores I knew of were sold out.

Down on my luck, I drove over to Fred Meyer's. They had a half off sock sale (it was their big selling point for Black Friday). I partook successfully and not without obtaining some complimentary donuts and apple juice they provided for the customers. Sort of minor excitement compared to what was really going on out there. The pushing and shoving; always looking over your shoulder suspecting everyone. I wanted to be part of it.

My last stop was Old Navy. On the way there, I passed by Office Max (or Office Depot or something like that). Lights were on acting as a beacon, drawing me in. People were waiting in the parking lot for something. Could this be the place? Curious, I check out the front door. Sure enough, they open at 7AM. One more chance, I thought to myself. It was 5:30 then, so taking a risk, I jogged over to the Old Navy about three parking lots down, got an awesome shirt (they only had one of my size left; score!), and headed as fast as I could back to Office place. To my luck, only one person had lined up before I got there. Coincidentally, he was one of the people who missed out on the Radio Shack sale. So, we shared in our sad story of loss, but rallied our hopes for the future of Office place as we shared in yesterday's paper, which happened to be available. Not too long after I had marked my territory in line, some other fellows joined us. It was a close race to the line; people kept coming. I guess I had luckily stumbled upon a great place in line for a great deal on a laptop. For a grueling hour, we huddled and shared stories of Thanksgiving feasts, sleeping, and failure at other stores. Minute after Minute passed. Each one of us getting colder, more desperate, and a little shrewd. Finally, just when we were about to lose our humanity, the doors sprung open. My legs failed me from the atrophy of standing in such a staggering line. I shook my head to wake myself up and made a B line for the laptop display. Like Charlie with the golden ticket, I was granted a gloriously red square of paper with a bar code on it. I was confused, but an employee told me that it represents the very item I had been striving for. As Hiro Yakamura would say, "Yata!" I finally came out on top. Hurrying over to the checkout, I bought the computer and left. By that time, the sun had well risen. It had dawned on a day that will see much loss and much rejoicing. Some of us will indeed act as people we would never think we would become; an uglier version of ourselves. Others will be there to see it all and to tell tales of waiting in line for hours and primitive brawls in toy stores. I am fortunate enough to live through it all and be able to tell the stories to my grandchildren. The tales of Black Friday.

Half off socks--what more joy could be had

Over joyed at the awesome deal I got on a shirt. I never thought I could ever be so happy.

Waiting amid other sly characters. I suspect every one of you.

Triumphant

First pear

Ok, for real. Who has eaten a pear before? If your response was no, then you would have answered in precisely the same way I would have three days ago. That's right. You figured it out. I have not eaten a pear in my entire life until exactly a few days ago. Sure I've had those pears in a can at the school cafeteria or in those take-along plastic cups for lunches, which are awesome btw. On a side note, lately I have heard many people around me say that cafeteria food is gross. Far be it for them to say such a thing. Sure they may be saying that now, but just wait until they get their hands on some quadrilateral pizza or a chicken patty sandy or maybe even a well rounded scoop of rice with a buttery tint of yellow. Now that's food. A meal that covers all the necessary food groups. I thrived on caf food (caf is short for cafeteria; I'm not talking about the tasty feline treat). At least a couple times a week, I would sit down with my best high school friends and partake in a meal that filled my soul with joy and applesauce. I even have been known to go back for seconds and thirds of things like applesauce and sliced peaches and pears (Pears: the thing we're really talking about here). But, these cafeteria pears could not prepare me for what I was about to experience in eating a real, off the tree, in a fruit basket in the kitchen, pear. I thought it was going to be like an apple, probably cause it looked like one or looked more like one than any other fruit, but it was not like an apple at all. It was firm, but soft to the touch . It had a weird skin and soft insides. It was very juicy; more than I was prepared for. Overall, I was very satisfied and people made fun of me for never eating a pear before then.

Memories from my bus trip

So, I was just reminiscing with myself about the inhumanly long bus trip that I took from Philadelphia to North Dakota after my beloved summer with Youthworks! Inc. Will I do it again? no, I will not work for youthworks again. Why you ask? Because I dubbed last summer as the final "fun summer job" summer. In fact, I made an oath with myself; the kind that cannot be broken. Anyway, here's a snippit from the lost pages of my bus journal that I thought were rather amusing:

Lisa McCarthy and I got to hang out in the Chicago bus station. Yay. What a pleasant surprize. The bus is shaking so bad it feels like its either going to make a loud bang noise and come to a complete halt or just fall apart entirely. There's a guy sitting to my right that keeps laughing for no reason and has been doing so for the last few hours. And apparently, I still cannot open a door after 24 years of solid experience. It's just a little embarrassing when you're standing in the middle of five or so passengers all staring at you as you're trying over and over again to pull the bathroom door open, when one of them says, "you have to push it." I haven't showered for a good three days and my hair looks like I don't know how to maintain proper higene. So, to avoid further embarrassment, my plan for the whole trip is to either be wearing my hat or hood at any given momet. So far it's been working; no one seems to have noticed my greasy hair.

I've been doing pretty good at running lately (and drinking water). I've progressed so far that I'm even biking for 10 minutes (or the equivalent of four songs on the gym's loudspeaker) after my 3-mile run. On a side-note, I've noticed over time that the gym plays their very own special selection of music which consists of gansta hip hop, techno remixes, and eiffel 65, so when I forget my mp3 player, or just decide not to bring it that day, I must endure through the their brilliantly motivational playlist. Anyway, I was running today, as I do on a normal Tuesday, and something funny happened to me that I just had to write about. I was just ridiculous and embarrassing to say the least. So there I was, trucking along on my perpetual rubber belt traveling beneath me. I was doing very well today. For some reason, most likely from watching a few great rounds of Family Fued, I felt like I had an unusual boost of energy that carried me through my whole run. I was feeling really great about myself. I wasn't even sweating that bad. Then it hit me--a force so hard that it almost knocked me off the treadmill's unforgiving tread. I thought I had gone to the bathroom earlier, but maybe it wasn't enough, because I had a gigantic fart waiting to do me in that very hour. My first plan for overcoming this building pressure was to just let it out, but something was hindering me; something fiendish. In other words, if I farted, something would've come out after it. I didn't want to stop my workout, so, for about one mile I did my best to hold it in, periodically changing my typical running form to a sort of my-butt-is-about-to-explode running style at 6.5 miles per hour. I went back and forth like this for the last 10 minutes of my run and eventually was dubbed the victor as I finished three miles. Then in a triumphant march/scurry of sorts, I made a B line for the bathroom and unleashed nature's fury. Nothing felt more satisfying that day until I ate the biggest, most massive, gooey sticky cinnamon roll I've had since my days at Taylor UC. A proper reward for conquering such a fowl beast who dared to interrupt my run.

a concert and the Christmas Spirit

I don't want to be perceived as old. I hate to admit it now, but I love to wear earplugs at concerts. I remember as a young juvinile thinking people who wore earplugs to concerts were absurd and old farts. Yet, I have found a distinct joy in doing just that. Whenever I go to a concert now, lo and behold, I am wearing earplugs. Is it just another part of growing old like sluggishness an male pattern baldness? I do not think so. I simply wear them out of a very well thought out choice that I made years ago. I was at a concert and for some reason, I was perturbed by the distortion and loudness that the band thought was so necessary, so I decided to just give in and put in a pair of earplugs. From that night, my night was changed. They help so much. It blocks out all the distortion very well and allows me to hear the music at a more comfortable volume. Amen.

So tonight, heading to a very similar head-banging, knuckle thrashing, mosh pitting noise fest, or concert (sorry that was mean, it was actually enjoyable and brought me back to my own thrashing days), me feeling were no different. My first goal of the night was to acquire said earplugs in whatever means possible. What better place to go then Fred Meyer's? I walk in at a brisk pace with my hands in my jacket pockets. I didn't say to anyone, after all, I was on a very important mission. I was having trouble, so asked an associate where they might be. Slightly puzzled, he said they'd be in the health and beauty section (I guess they were part of the beauty). I was almost to the very aisle where the little foam plugs would be and am stopped in my tracks, for a very colorful, brightly twinkly, Christmas display demanded my full attention. Normally, I would think to myself, "omg, this is way to early for Christmas," but something inside me could not help but be taken in by the beauty of it all. Last year, I decided in a very arrogant stance to resist all things Christmas until after Thanksgiving, when it ought to be advertised. That year, my Christmas did not feel as Christmassy. So this year, partially because Fred Meyers is forcing me to, I am cutting loose and not resisting any of the Christmas Spirit or joy into my heart. I entered into the bubble of joy the surrounded the five or so holiday aisles and was taken to a land of magic...for about five minutes, then I need to get those earplugs! It turned out they weren't in the beauty section (which did not surprise me). I eventually located them in the hardware department.

I got to the concert at a good time; the band I came to see was just starting. They did great and it was fun to watch it with some friends who were also there. Condemns were thrown into the audience and a fight broke out in the middle of their set. All in all, with earplugs equipped and filled with a little more Christmas joy, I had a great time. Let the music roar and the Christmas season commence!

Lonely Halloween

So this is just a little documentation of downtown Bend on a typical Halloween night at about 7:30 at night. I admit that's pretty early for trick or treating, or any adult Halloween shenanigans, but this is what I did.