A Portrait of a Champion Idealist.

I don't think I buy personality tests. All this tells me is how I percieve myself, which I am fully aware of.

This weekend was something else. I want to be friendly. Hey, photos.

posted by paul @ 10:50 PM

I was going to post as if I were our neighbors but I would like to interrupt that whole thing for a breaking news story.

As I was watching season two of The Office, bleaching my teeth, my French doors wide open, feet kicked comfortably onto desk, a cockroach the size of a small dog was spotted not three inches from my size thirteens. I calmly got up and tried to locate some way to poison him. Or catch him. Because if I were to crush this small animal we'd be talking about a liter of fluids and solids that I would have to clean or wash out. And that would be gross. He flew somewhere. I lost him. He is probably on the back of the chair looking over my shoulder currently. That creeps me out a little.

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"Dog blame-it. These new kids that just moved in next door been keepin me up all night with their power tools and hem-hawin' and carryin' on. Martha said she was hearin that Rocky Roll music when she was on the backporch washing mah overalls."

I could go on, but you get the point. I feel a little sorry for them, maybe I'll give them one of my spare "moving pitcher" boxes.

posted by paul @ 2:01 AM

Yesterday was the end of my summer internship. We just re-opened after a two-week shutdown/overhaul of the existing center. There were two crews that worked the whole time - a crew of 10 or so Mexican painters, and a crew of 8 flooring guys. Did you know that Shreveport had a Mexican radio station? Neither did I, nor did I know that the accordion is a staple in Hispanic music. On the other side of the dial were the flooring boys who jammed out to the most womanly country music station you could ever put together.

Picture this with me for a moment. There are 12 males working, doing manly sort of things like lifting and toting, and some fruitcake is on the radio singing about how all he wants to do is kiss me long and slow. I swear to God, I have never heard anything more pathetic in all my life. I'm setting up computers on the other side of the gallery and Faith Hill can feel me breath and suddenly she's melting into me and it's a slow and steady rush and isn't that the way that love's supposed to be? Isn't it, mulletted/muscle-shirted carpet installation professional?

Eight hours of country music will make you pretty emotional. It is not advised that you go on a date immediately after such a marathon of vicarious heartache and romance, as you will be tired of relating to people and just want to go to sleep.

posted by paul @ 11:28 PM

I've been at work for 30 of the last 40 hours. I hope my never-ending hallway doesn't catch on fire tonight.

posted by paul @ 12:26 AM