The Daily Derenger

9/12/2003

Is it wrong to not date someone just because there is no parking near her place? Seriously. Hear me out on this.

You get to her place around 6 p.m. There is no parking on her street or the streets on either side of hers. You're pissed. Nothing really pisses you off like searching for parking. You look for other spots and see one. But it's on a one-way street. You make the turns to get back to that spot and it's taken. You then see a spot but it's on the other side of the street. You learned from the one-way street mishap and opt against going for it.

You curse everyone in her neighorhood, especially all the gay boys who fill the streets, for them parking near their living quarters. How dare them! You spend about 15 minutes looking for a spot and are still irate. You then decide that the next open spot is yours. You find one and park there. You thinks it's much closer to her place than it really is. You embark on what winds up being a 20 minute jaunt. You're now sweating in the 85 degree heat after just showering 30 minutes prior. You're carrying a heavy bag and a a heavy box. You're seriously pissed at the world.

You get to her place only to find that you've left your cell phone in your car. You don't know her number off hand and don't see a pay phone around anyway. The luxury that is having an alphabetically-organized, caller ID-featuring cell phone has given you no reason to memorize her number. You've simply checked your call logs and redialed her number many of times. Or you've scrolled to her name, never once really attempting to remember the number. You're sweating profusely at this point, standing in her courtyard and looking completely defeated.

You can't yell up to her apartment because she's got the air conditioner on. No windows are open. You sit near the door to her complex in hopes that she will come looking for you. She never does. You awake 3 hours later and 4 gay boys in her neighborhood are standing over you. They offer to buy you drinks down the street and you accept. You then find out that one of them has a parking spot in his building but doesn't own a car. He tells you you can use it. For a small fee.

You leave the bar ashamed and limping, but with a great parking spot.

9/11/2003

I just paid 11 bucks for a cab ride home. Or at least back to where I'm staying this week. I'm house-sitting again for Cyndi and her fat cat, Chellie.

I hate paying that much for a cab. However, it was a long walk to the el and late at night. I guess I paid for the convenience. But still, I tipped him and all he did was sit behind the wheel and apply minimal pressure to the pedals. Maybe I just felt that I had to make up for those people who didn't tip at all.

Before the tipping came, I got into the cab and told the driver where I needed to get.

"Which way would you like me to take?" the driver asked.

I didn't know how to respond. I mean, it's his job to know what's the best way to get me where I need to be. I hope he takes the quickest way possible. And quickest usually means cheapest. But I would assume that he took his job seriously enough to have the best route figured out.

An airplane pilot doesn't get on the microphone and ask the passengers, "Do you prefer we head straight to Cleveland or can I swing by Chicago on the way? My mom lives there and I wanted to at least wave."

9/08/2003

I worked at Lambeau Field in Green Bay over the weekend. After the Packers home opener, a loss to the rival Vikings, I had to clean my suites.

"You need to keep some of the food to give to Paul's Pantry," a manager told me.

Now in Green Bay, they take some food and give it to the less fortunate people of Green Bay. The food in question was some chili, nacho cheese and jalepenos.

What a bad hand to be dealt - homeless and hungry, then you get fed, only to get the chili shits an hour later.