Hmm...there's quite a lot today, but well, it's Sunday, and you've all been very good. To be honest, it peaks at about the middle and sort of peters out at the end.

Twenty-Five Cents for Two Cents

I went to Amado's 24-hour Mexican Food with Boston, Donaldo, and Brittany. I hadn't been there in a while, and during my absence they had installed a coin-operated scale that also tells your horoscope. It looked ancient, and probably broken.

I hopped onto it and threw a quarter into the slot marked for "Taurus". The dial on the scale settled at precisely 192 pounds. A metal panel slid back to announce in faded letters that:

"Your affections are shallow and your interests superficial.
You expect too much and give too little.
Give as much as you take."

"Hey!" I snarled, "Who are you calling 192 pounds?!"


Road March Down Memory Lane

Donaldo got me a pair of combat boots for Christmas. I had told him that I wanted a pair, and he had obliged me. I'm very happy with them, but they give me an odd feeling when I wear them.

It's kind of a good feeling, since I've always felt like I was ready for anything when I was wearing those boots. But I remember long, long, days of marching and running and being yelled at that never felt over until I unlaced my boots and gingerly pulled them off of my abused feet. It's just one of those things that I remember.

Now let's see if I still remember how to shine the damn things.

Great, now I'm reminiscing about my Army years...er, year.

If it isn't common knowledge yet, I can be something of a smart-ass. Well, when I was 17 years old and in Army Basic Training, I was a very stupid kind of smart-ass.

There are all sorts of interesting ways to be punished in Basic Training. One afternoon our platoon was out doing a field exercise. I wasn't holding my rifle properly (depending on how you were walking/marching/running, you had to hold it a certain way.) A drill sergeant from another platoon saw me and told me to raise my rifle up above my head with both hands.

It would appear to a passerby that I was doing the "Y" part of the "YMCA" dance, except with an 8 pound semi-automatic weapon in my hands.

I complied, and the drill sergeant wandered off, presumably to find some more recruits to do the "M," "C," and "A."

Standard etiquette for being punished by a drill sergeant from a platoon that isn't yours is to act chagrined until they leave. Then, it's usually okay to go back to whatever you were doing.

Here's where the stupid/smart-ass part comes in.

In a fit of Ghandi-ish arrogance, I decided not to put my arms down.

Eight pounds doesn't sound like a lot of weight, but it gets very painful very quickly.

I won't talk about how my arms went from aching, to burning, to numb, to violently trembling, to back to burning again. I'm going to talk about how after 45 minutes of suffering, I went into this Zen-like state. I felt great. I felt like I could hold my arms up forever if I had to.

My friends all thought I was crazy. Everyone kept asking me, "Are you still holding that thing?!" The other drill sergeants were confused too, since they weren't sure who had told me to do it and were all certain that there was no way I would just be punishing myself.

The drill sergeant who had ordered me to hold up my rifle finally wandered back a little over an hour later. I marched up to her, rifle held high, and shouted, "Drill sergeant, Private Lopez requesting permission to recover!"

She cocked an eyebrow at me and muttered "Recover, soldier."

I brought down my arms with a sigh of relief and began to trot off to my platoon. A grin crept onto my face as I wondered what she must be thinking right then. But a moment later there was no need to wonder.

"Lopez! What in the hell are you smiling about?!"

Eep.

I spent midnight to 2 am that night polishing brass doorknobs.

I discovered that the Zen-like state that can be reached from polishing doorknobs is more directly related to the amount of fumes you've inhaled from the brass-polish.

Gurgism; n 1. an odd saying that seems to make a sort of sense, but upon closer examination it is revealed that no, it most certainly does not. 2. the obstruction of a blood vessel by a foreign object or Guillermo.

Gurgism for Today: "No, I don't put a slice of lime in my Corona! And no, I don't put a lemon in my Hefferweizen! If I want to get drunk and have fruit then I'll make sure that I pass out in an orchard!"

I've been up for 22 hours.

During that time I've gone to work, gone to the Outback Steakhouse where I had some of a Bloomin Onion and two bottles of Newcastle, rode a slight buzz over to Best Buy to purchase two DVD's (The Princess Bride and Disney's Hercules,) and...

Oh, quick detour. While I was there, I saw my old friend Kendall, whom I hadn't seen or spoken to for nearly six months. Very excitedly, I ran up and gave her a hug. Less excitedly, I noticed the look on her face that she reserves for people that she isn't happy to see at all. Now completely devoid of excitement, I mumbled lamely that my brother was in town and that my niece was doing well and that I guess I would see her around. Trying to ignore the feeling seeping into the emptiness that earlier had been filled snugly with all that excitement, I went to find Boston and Donaldo so that we could make our purchases.

Donaldo and I went back to the house, I made burritos for everyone, I went over to the house that Lauren H. was house sitting where I kicked her ass in Quake II for Nintendo 64 and Star Wars Pod Racer. Then she kicked my ass in Mario Kart 64, Diddy Kong Racing, and the Xena fighting game. Lauren had a new skateboard and I keep mine in the trunk of my car at all times, so we went skateboarding.

I left to meet Donaldo and Jay at a party where I saw a lot of people that I had used to go to high school with. Jay went to his house, I dropped Donaldo off at home, then I went back to Jay's house to hang out with him. I got home around 3 am, showered, gathered my notes, and sat down at the computer, ignored my notes and knocked out this post. Now I'm going to put off sleep for a bit longer and talk to Methinks.

The day had its ups and downs. Whenever it finally ends, I'm certain that a line from Hercules will still be turning over and over in my head as it has been doing for many hours now.

"There are worse things."