2003-05-21 - 1:45 a.m.

Got up way early again today--I got a phone call that I missed and then returned. Hours 'till work, I squeezed the last tiny drop of new-to-me content outta The Homestar Runner site. I was saving it, but I think I needed it just then. Sometimes I save things for way too long, so long that I eventually don't care about them anymore, or at least as much as I used to when I started saving.

Snagged the 86 to Harvard, and walked to Central, where I bought Frank Black tickets for the Roommate and myself. It's at Zu-Zu, the middle of the Middle East--he's playing for two nights, and they're only selling fifty tickets per show, so get off yer ass and buy a ticket at the Middle East box office if you wanna see Frank Black all intimate-like. I got tickets for Thursday--(tickets #8 and #9, by the way).

The last time I saw him was at Axis, and all I could make out was his big, shiny head. (By "make out," I mean "see," mind you.)

Took Main St. to Kendall, and gravity just kinda sucked me in to some veggie-wrap cafe where I got a banana-coconut fruit drink. Which made me happy.

I was also happy crossing the Salt and Pepper bridge to Boston, although I must admit that my carrying a stupid empty plastic cup across the Charles made me a little less happy about my previous experience with getting the fruit drink.

Oh--I refuse to say the word "smoothie." I hate it. I love crazy fruit drinks where they smoosh the fruit into a scary chopping thing and all you get is the juice. And I love when there's weird things like carrots in them. I really love the taste of wheatgrass, too. Here's a tip, though, if you want me to go to your fruit drink store--just name the drinks after the things that are in them.

I remember going to Trident a couple of years ago, this was before the likes of Fresh Samantha, and when there weren't many places to get fancy juice drinks, and Trident had something that I really wanted to order. But they named them all after the ailments they were intended to cure. Which is just stupid. Can I have a bodyache, please? I remember, the drink I wanted to order was called a PMS. Needless to say, I had coffee instead.

Anyway, I've gotten better about crap like that, and I wasn't around anyone I knew, so I ordered the bazoom-a-boom-a-boom-a banana-colada-tastee-zoom enhancer, with enhancer with power and zoom, or something to that effect, and I did enjoy it.

I read my book on a park bench in the Commons, surrounded by people who may or may have not have woken up underneath it, but either way by people who (presumably) didn't have to work at all for all or most of that day, and then headed into work knowing that the rest would be getting out in around two hours.

But I had a nice little time for myself.

That's what happens when I work from 3:00pm to 11:00pm. Major, major drawbacks, but there�s plenty to make the most of. I can either sleep for a very, very long time, or I can enjoy a whole nice afternoon, especially during that two-and-a-half week period where the weather is "nice," but not scorching.

At any rate, I have a wicked sunburn on my neck from all that walking (I brought my dorky pedometer with me--Peety. I would have picked Pedro, but that�s the name of my drum machine.) Ten miles today, in the sun. I go from pink in the winter to red in the summer. Believe you me, the ladies love it. Lock up your daughters and beat your wives, it's the Faulty Chameleon.

And he�s comin� to getcha.