Ok, an in look you didn’t ask for but I’m providing anyway. Feel free to check out now, I’ll understand.
What is a Frankenberry evening/weekend after leaving the gig on a Friday?
It’s a peer up “Hello Memes!”, at Mimi the Quirky, usually at the top of the stairs with an old lady smoker’s sounding meow, a one that rasps the impatience she’s been feeling since hearing me come home, a come home not quite quick enough to the downstairs door and walk up the stairs as she would like though and she reminds with this rasp. A Cricket, walking blind circles in front of the fridge, head Stevie Wonder rollin’, maybe even a hearing challenged circles these days as well, but somehow always knowing that I’m home and waiting alongside Mimi. A sudden scared jerk at a hand to her head “hey girlfriend” and then a 180 to a comfort flop and a belly rub. And a Bella, patiently waiting on her square of flattened crunchy paper just inside the apartment knowing an under chin rub is coming, maybe even a sideface scratch or an ear rub of a Pirates cap brim if I can bend down enough. Gettin’ old ya know. This bend down shit is getting tougher now.
After a clean up, usually of Cricket’s Cricketness, a hardwood sweep of back kicked litter, a dump of water from the two water bowls sitting in pools around them on the rubber mat underneath now (Cricket treats water bowls as kiddie pools, splashing most of the water out before taking a couple of moments to lick off her paws, her way of drinking, sometimes with both front paws in what’s left of the water), a clean of the food bowls from the morning and it’s dinner time.
Then, it’s Steve dinner, something reheated, something convectioned unfrozen with garlic, onion and lemon pepper spices and a hot sauce, or something foiled unwrapped, the other half of a sandwich from lunch maybe as it’s always important to try and get two meals out of whatever it is that you’ve bought and planned to eat. Gotta justify the cost.
When I finally get myself set, and indulge bad habit empowered shared bits of my dinner with Cricket and the Memes, I look for anything I can find on the cable for my brief before a few words at the PC. If I’m home early enough I can catch the second half of a “Blue Bloods” repeat on WGN, depending on the day followed by repeats of Tim Allen’s “Last Man Standing” (which I’ve found myself enjoying the shit out of lately) also depending on the day. On days where their sitcom repeats are things like “Married With Children” (the dumbest show ever) or “How I Met Your Mother” (never cared) I look to maybe instead jump into the middle of movies I’ve already seen in these channels between 50 and 60 or SyFy or BBC America. I just need a momentary distraction for the eats and Cricket doesn’t seem to mind my choices as long as that paper towel at her feet gives her the know at extra dinner. It’s her accustomed feel. The paper step. Step step folded paper sniff sniff pieces eat eat
Does all of this sound pathetic? Sure. Do I care? Not in the least.
Tonight, my grab at something to just mindlessly watch while dinnering was halfway through “Pitch Perfect 2” (Got’s to love the Anna Kendrick, the cutest most wonderful thing, a wishing I was back in school and she was what caught my eye without her thinking I was weird). Cricket had some bits of the turkey meal I had grabbed at Price Chopper from their prepared stuff, I mean how can you can go wrong for 6 bucks, especially when you split it ‘em in two like I said, even if you could have easily eaten the whole plate in one sit? I thought to myself, with it being a Friday so I had time now, “Man, wouldn’t that be cool if there were a Pitch Perfect 3 following ?” And then there was. The silliest dumb-ass movie ever but with some wonderful tune scenes and some really new found likables. Should I be concerned that I know the story arc? He he. Maybe.
There a lot of things I’m not good at, a lot of things I really need to work on, a lot of things that just scream “Dude!!” get your shit together. But I know that the Anna Kendrick’s, bad movies, awful John Lithgow accents, the rememberings find me in a place where I kick back on a Friday night and not really thinking of that, a place where I find myself in a window of tomorrow is good as I get one more. So I’m Ok. Sunday will piss me off eventually, the knowing of a Monday closer now, but this is a Saturday that I so always hope will last and I know I can write a few words about days.
As a single not caring cat dude, other than my charges, I glory in the time spent without you, stringing words, unabashedly admitting to sometimes watching Lifetime things or Hallmark things or finding that flick, like now, between channels 50 and 60, even if it may be considered a chick flick out of the corner of my eye (I find it Ok to watch now from my computer chair, Shoes’s computer chair, to multi-task in a way, which I never could before, had to be a proper watching in the past, but a roll back now with remote in hand for the volume or not, movies that are so predictable that you can recite the dialogue before it happens, but that you find a comfort in, that tug a little bit, that maybe even bring an actual tear while I keyboard scribble amid this rolling back and forth. Here’s to hardwood floors and a roll.
From fat Amy “You crush it so hard that your nips tingle a bit”
Well, my “nips” may not be tingling, not at the moment anyway, surely for a completely different day and circumstance, but that is a Mantra huh?
Words are crushed, even simple ones here that don’t mean that much, other than to a you.