Calling It a Weekend Short … But One Well Spent

Live and half head

I know it’s only Saturday evening but I’m calling it, calling it a weekend. I mean unless something extraordinary happens to me in my apartment between now and tomorrow night like one of my gang suddenly starting to speak and threatening to expose the shit that “only the cat saw”, aliens finally deciding that I should come along for the ride (please, no probing, at least not there) or the radiation from a meteor that lands in the back yard transforming me into a superhero or a porn star or a superhero porn star then this weekend’s story is done.

Now you can have the Cliffs Notes version or the extended one (But hey? Aren’t you aiming for us to read both? … shut up smart ass).

Cliffs Notes:

– Did another High School Football game last night, this time in Guilderland NY, a place that sounds almost mythical until you drive by about 300 strip malls and shopping plaza’s in the 4 miles from the Thruway exit.

– Ask the question of how far would you drive for free pizza and notice, while you’re eating it, a crapload of plane trails in the sky. Note that chemtrail conspiracy theorists were probably peeing themselves at the sight.

– Enjoy the hell out of the latest football game and the ref who seemed a bit Will Ferrell in his seriousness leaving you to wonder where he kept his cowbell.

– Also enjoy the hell out of the group of kids from Guilderland who form the plugged in pep band in tune with the student “Red Wave” section of the crowd. Mention to the really nice woman in charge of the band, who you remember from last year’s game and remembers you, how it would be fun if the student section changed up some of the typical football crowd chants.

– Try not to make eye contact with the three kids at your McDonald’s stop, before your ride home with BB, who are starting to grouse about the wait time knowing that it’s just not a conversation you want to get into with Mama Bear and the flamboyants.

– Tell Celie to “shussshh” when she says don’t worry about folding her stuff that’s in the dryer letting her know that, as domestic chores goes, you don’t mind doing laundry, you just don’t do socks or the flimsies. No, they just get lumped in a pile on top.

– Get knocked out of a fantasy basketball draft right before your 5th and 6th round picks because Mimi the Quirky fell off her cat window seat right onto the the power strip and restarted your PC.

– Talk to Bella like she were human about how nice it would be if today’s weather were the year round norm.

– Get that errant tan cow back in the fold.

– Accidentally have two extra cats slip by you and decide that they like the “new” of Uncle Steve’s apartment and proceed to eat all of the Bella, Cricket the Blind and Mimi the Quirky food. Apologize to Bella.

– Fight off the onslaught of stink bugs who’s lease on their summer digs has expired and are now converging on the house.

– Find something new on Amazon Prime or Netflix after finally finishing season one of the fantastic “Carnival Row” on Wednesday night and then season two of the mesmerizing “Dark” on Thursday knowing that whatever you find probably won’t rate.

– Wake up tomorrow for like 5 minutes and then say “fuck it” and go back to bed till Monday.

////////////////////////

Not Cliffs Notes:

Well another High School football game is in the books, me and BB making the trek again, this time to Guilderland NY, a place that sounds almost mythical as you wonder of it’s origins on the ride. Is it maybe a place of Middle Earth, as the name might imply, where all guilds originate and thrive but must stay hidden from Middle Earth’s GOP for fear of them discovering their magic? In this possible Middle Earth is Frodo the must see attraction as the latest barefooted kicker to take the football world by storm or does Sean Astin maybe summer here in a quaint little cottage named “Samwise”? Not sure. Just know that whatever mythology the name might sound to possess will quickly fade as you pass 300 or so strip malls and shopping plazas in a just 4 mile stretch from exit 24 of the NY State Thruway to your first left hand turn toward your destination. Sigh. So much for possible magic.

I did though, answer a question you may have asked at some point of just how far will you drive for free pizza. For me? Two hours and about 100 miles, though 400 miles short of being the man who would fall down at your door (plus some work and stuff after ya clean your hands and wipe your mouth). I also found out the answer to a question I never even thought to ask. How much will a pizza place try to charge your boss for paper plates and napkins on top of the price of six really large pies and four two liter bottles of soda, including, somehow, a Royal Crown Cola? 50 bucks in case you’re curious. Two bucks a person they said. Gotta give ’em credit for the chutzpah and adherence to shameless capitalism. 50 freakin’ dollars, for paper plates they would probably just send Billy, the delivery driver hoping he doesn’t get lost again, to grab at the Dollar Store next door in the one of the 300 plus strip malls / shopping plazas they’re located in.

PS…strip mall pizza place. If you’re gonna try an rook someone on the cost of paper plates you better at least make that cola a fucking Coke, not a dusted off Royal Crown.

But, to their credit, it was really good pizza, messy-finger square pies again like last week, and while I was eating that messy-finger square pie pizza and drinking the nostalgia of Royal Crown Cola I noted, in the skies above, an abundance of airplane trails, a crapload of them criss crossing every which way above my head and my only thought was that if there were any Chemtrail nutters in this here neck of the woods they were probably peeing themselves, after rushing to their bunkers, at the sight.

Once the game got started and I was in my usual spot with my usual parabolic I enjoyed myself again, as I always do on these Friday nights and my enjoyment was enhanced by the kids of the pep band, so in tune with the “Red Wave” student fan section. I was reminded of how much I enjoyed last year’s game here when I ran into their director, who I remembered, and she me, and helped her again find a place on the truck to plug in their little amp for the guitar. I also remembered her happy. Her joy at what she does with these kids, who fit right in on home game Friday nights where they might not otherwise and how she just couldn’t stop smiling. I felt like the big guy at the table by just being able to help them find an outlet for that amp. She’s exactly the reason teachers need to be paid more. About a dozen kids sitting cross legged in front of some upside down buckets, also all smiling, drum sticks in hand and at the ready, each sporting their own statement of them when it comes to hair or adornment but still playing for team, fronting a band that belted out classics coordinated with the student section. My only thought to her, at the end of the game, was that maybe the student section should change up the standard “THIS IS OUR HOUSE” or “YOU CAN’T DO THAT” kind of thing with something a bit more fun and left field like “MY MOM LOVES APPLE PIE” or “MY NEPHEW IS AFRAID OF SNAKES” or “THIS IS OUR HOUSE…TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF WE JUST HAD THE CARPETS DONE” … Yeh, Ok … but still, it’s an idea.

There was also the ref who was always with me in my spot, or should I say, I was always with him, almost stalker-like, who was ultra serious but in a Will Farrell kind of way. I just kept waiting for him to go for cowbell instead of his whistle so coolly tight on his left hand.

Then it was game done, a goodnight to the cool kids in the band (you’re in a band, you ARE the cool kids) who were happy to have aided Guilderland in their victory, a goodnight to their director and her smile and a breakdown of our stuff.

After my stop at the whatever McDonald’s that was there in Guilderland before my and BB’s ride home, a stand alone by the way, not one in any of the 300 plus strip malls or shopping plazas and a trying not to make eye contact with the three kids who were starting to grouse about the wait time, hoping to be heard in an “it’s all about me” kind of way, I gladly grabbed my large coke (Not RC) and large fries and headed toward the door, quickly, before getting into a conversation I didn’t want to get into with Mama Bear and the flamboyants.

Eventually, after gettin’ home about 1, hittin’ the rack around 4 and then being up again at 7 it was back to my regular Saturday. The usual routine, just lacking a bit on the sleep side. I do so like getting back to routine even if it is with a lack of sleep.

Pop my one weekly hamper of laundry in, run to Stop N Shop for the feeding of cats and a Steve, come back and tell Celie to “oh, shussshh” when she says don’t worry about folding her stuff that’s in the dryer, just put it in a pile in a basket, she says, while letting her know, as I always do, that I just can’t do that and that, as domestic chores go, I’m Ok with laundry, I just don’t do/fold socks or the flimsies (I also always make it a point to mention that I look away at the flimsies…with a dramatic southern belle-esque head tossed, hand fanning “Oh My!” Don’t want anyone to get to thinkin’ there’s a creepy goin’ on here). No, that’s the only thing that gets lumped in a pile, on top of the, of course, have to be folded.

Then it was a fantasy basketball draft at 10 as, even though I don’t know basketball all that well, I need something to get me past the fact that all of my all season long first or second place fantasy Baseball teams got knocked out in the first round of the playoffs…again, leaving me to, at best, come in 7th or 6th or maybe 5th. Then Mimi the Quirky fell off her cat window seat right onto the power strip and restarted my PC…two picks before my 5th and 6th round choices. I was drafting blind. Cricket understands. But Mimi was Ok, maybe just a little cat embarrassed. I reassured her of course while trying not to laugh, or at least not letting her see.

I cowboyed up and wrangled one errant tan cow back into the fold with much cajoling, patience and a bucket full of cow feed bribery while making friends with one slobbery big guy who wasn’t wary like the rest and was more than happy to be the stand-in for his errant pal when it came to handfuls from the bucket of bribery.

I took a moment or three to sit in a window with my Bella and talk with her, pal to pal, about how nice it would be if today’s weather were the year round norm before heading downstairs only to, accidentally, have two extra cats (Penny and Cujo) slip by and decide that they like the “new” of Uncle Steve’s apartment and proceed to eat all of the Bella, Cricket the Blind and Mimi the Quirky food. I apologized to Bella as she gave me that disapproving look I know all too well.

Penny - Counter

I also took measures to fight off the onslaught of stink bugs who’s lease on their summer digs has apparently expired and are now converging on the house. Mostly it involved me just flicking the window screens…but I did it with an angry raised fist “damn you stink bugs!” drama and authority.

Finally, I’m done, after realizing, again, that I’m a little old to be doing what was easy in my college years when it comes to sleep, or the lack thereof. Time to find something new on Amazon Prime or Netflix after finishing season one of the absolutely fantastic “Carnival Row” on Wednesday night and then season two of the complex and mesmerizing “Dark” on Thursday though I know that whatever I find probably won’t rate.

So even though I may be calling it a weekend early on a Saturday night I think I’m good. It’s been full. It’s had moments and they are moments that I’ll remember which is all we can really ask for. I’ll wake up tomorrow for like 5 minutes, check my fantasy football teams and then say “fuck it” and go back to bed till Monday.

Not a bad weekend called short at all.

Cheers to that my friends.

3 thoughts on “Calling It a Weekend Short … But One Well Spent

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