My goals for the day

  1. Be productive. There’s much to do today.
  2. Leave the pimple alone that’s growing inside the front of my right nostril.
  3. Keep a bandaid over my lefthand, middle finger. Last week I was peeling a butternut squash and I sliced into the nail. Every time I bump it or snag it on clothing, it hurts like the dickens (pictured above). That is my middle finger so consider yourself screwed.
  4. Avoid an over-excess of nosebleeds by using tissues instead of my forefinger to remove the massive boogers from my nose. I’m a nosebleeder. I have been since I was a kid. It’s not just nose picking that causes nosebleeds, but it surely doesn’t help.

If I posted yesterday, this would have been one of them

I wrote a post yesterday on the plane ride to Boston, but I didn’t get a chance to upload it. So pretend it’s yesterday. Pretend I don’t have access to the Internet, so I didn’t have a chance to look up names and spellings.

Enter December 15:


This morning I’m on my way to Boston with a client from Wisconsin. I’m traveling with one other person. We’ll be doing a news-style reportage of an iPad prize giveaway.


The flight attendant is being funny. I asked for a coffee. She asked, “How do you take it?” I said, “Black.” She said, “What’s up with Boston-bound people and black coffee?”


I shrugged.


When she walked back by, she asked if I’d have more coffee. I said, “No thanks. Could I have some water, please?”


“How do you take it? Straight up?”


I wanted to laugh, but it’s just to early.


My alarm was set for 4:05. I was awake-ish from about 1 a.m. till my alarm went off. Tina was tossing and turning, too.


I have been meaning to tell you that I watched that Scott Pilgrim movie. I don’t remember the full title.


I recommend it, only if you watch it on RedBox or you sneak into a theater. It’s not a great movie, but it’s worth a watch.


I am pretty sure I’m sick and tired of Michael Cera‘s dumb-boy schtick. It got him through Arrested Development and suited him well in Juno. I’m not sure it’s working for him as he’s maturing and his head looks like an ice cream cone and his hair, coffee ice cream.


The movie works because of the action scenes and the special effects. The Home Alone 1 boy’s little brother is in the movie. There’s a unexplained weirdness at the beginning of the movie. The Culkin boy and the Cera kid sleep in the same bed, which is a mattress on the floor. Culkin is gay. Cera is not. Yet, there’s obviously enough room in the apartment for them to sleep on two different mattresses.


Scott Pilgram’s love interest is pretty damn cute, but the relationship is awkward not just in writing, but in acting. We aren’t made to really understand their relationship. We don’t get why they should be together. The writing is forcing a round peg in a square hole. I wanted to like them as a couple, but it’s just silly and coerced.


On the plane, I’m watching that show called Outsourced. You know that rumor about trash that swirls endlessly in the oceans’ currents? Large masses of plastic containers and floating vomit? You’d probably look at it if you were passing it on a boat. You probably wouldn’t take your eyes off of it. But if you didn’t know it existed, you’d be just as happy as you were before passing it. That’s what this show is. You’d watch it if you had to, but you’d be better off not knowing it existed.


Ignorance is bliss.


Toward the end of the flight, I walked to the back of the plane to empty my bladder. I ended up standing there for what seemed like a long time. The funny flight attendant walked toward me and asked if I had been waiting long. I said, “Yeah, it seems like it.”


“Which one has been in the longest?” She asked.


I pointed at the one to our left. A toilet flushed and someone exited from the right. A guy with long-ish brown hair came out. When he was far enough from ear shot, she said, “That guy is weird, huh?”


I said, “I guess.”


“He’s been back in the bathroom several times. He’s mad because he couldn’t get upgraded to first class.”


I nodded my head. Her sentences weren’t making sense. A moment passed. She asked, “Are you going in?” I looked at her and I said, “I’m waiting for a minute just in case. He was in there a long time.”


She laughed.


Who knows what that guy was doing. I anticipated it stinking. It was fine.


I’ll try to update on my way back to Chicago. I’ll update some hipstamatic pics if I get time too.




(Of course I didn’t have time to update. I apologize, dear readers.)