fatdavid8

To open, I feel as though I ought to apologize to the few readers of this journal (especially to those of you who must read it as a condition of your parole): one entry for the whole of the month April is disgracefully lax. My only excuse is that we received our week-and-a-half's worth of pleasant Spring weather last month, and I didn't want to miss it. Unfortunately for all of you, the weather has reverted to form; it is rainy, windy, and cold; and I am indoors once again, typing-fingers at the ready.

Sooooo . . . what to write about? Hmmmmm . . . what funny thing has happened lately? Well . . . the weather has been nice.

Erm . . . I don't know . . . that seems to lack a little punch.

Well, I did wear my "I am so cool" watch last Thursday. It was designed by Johanna Grawunder and has a detail from a painting by Shag for its face. I hadn't worn for months because I hadn't been feeling particularly cool, but I decided, in a fit of early-morning spunk, to wear it that day. The moment I put it on, my head was filled with a repeating bit of singsong: "I am so cool. I am so cool. La, la, lala, la. I am so cool."

Despite the presence of my "I am so cool" watch, the first half of my day at work proceeded as usual. I work, work, worked and fantasized about strangling my office-mate, Slobby Bobby. I occasionally glanced at my wristwatch and thought, "I am so cool. I am so cool. La, la, lala, la. I am so cool." I'd say that the only oddity I noticed was that, when I headed out for lunch at 11:30 (I usually eat a bit early to beat the crowds. I'd rather spend my lunch hour reading than standing in line), I felt more hungry than usual. Also, the bagel place I went to seemed remarkably busy. The line for a sandwich almost went out the shop's door.

So, I stood in line, glancing now and again at my watch and thinking, "I am so cool. I am so cool. La la lala la. I am so cool," and waited for my chance to order.

(Hmmmm . . . there's a bit of narrative tension in a story about standing in line and waiting for a bagel, but it's not exactly a laugh riot.)

One somewhat amusing thing did happen while I was standing in line admiring my watch and thinking, "I am so cool. I am so cool. La, la, lala, la. I am so cool." When I got near the head of the line, I saw an earth-motherish woman in her fifties or sixties (you know the type: her hair's just a little wild, her shirt's just a little blowsy, and her jewelry's just a little too insistently handcrafted-by-the-oppressed-brown-skinned-peoples-of-the-world stylish . . . i.e., she looks just funky enough to let you know that she's a spiritual force to be reckoned with, but not funky enough to be mistaken for Janice Joplin on a four-day bender) standing at the condiments counter with a coffee. While I was standing there, she reached for a creamer, peeled off the foil, put the waste foil into her left hand, and poured the creamer into the garbage. Then, she did it again. Then, she did it once more, picked up a swizzle stick, and started to stir. When she noticed that there wasn't any cream in her coffee, she started a bit, looked around bewilderedly, noticed the foils in her hand, checked the newly creamy contents of the garbage, and smacked herself in the head. Then, she wandered off to her seat without adding any cream to her coffee.

"I am so cool. I am so cool," I thought, "What a freakin' dumbass! But I am so cool."

It seemed as though I spent an inordinately long amount of time in line, and when I got to the cash register to pay, I checked the Breugger's clock to see how much of my lunch hour was left. It seemed to show that I'd been in line for an hour and a half.

"Cripes!" I thought. "I'd better wolf my bagel and get back. I am so cool. I am so cool. La, la, lala, la. I am so cool."

However, as I didn't have anything other than a 2 o'clock departmental meeting on my calendar for the afternoon, I decided to eat and read as per usual, take my time, and just be back in time for the meeting.

So, I ate and read and read and read, and it seemed as though a great deal of time passed. However, when I checked my "I am so cool" watch, I appeared to have plenty of time, so I thought, "I am so cool," and read some more.

When my "I am so cool" watch read 15-'til 2:00, I headed back, dropped my stuff off in my office, and headed up to my departmental meeting. When I arrived, almost all of the department was already there, which is unusual as I usually am among the first to arrive, and they were already discussing something from the tail end of the meeting's agenda. A couple of people gave me grouchy looks, and a few of my friends gave me goofy looks. I wasn't surprised at that, though, as they are all goofs.

(Wow! This is really long. I hope it gets good soon.)

After I'd been in the meeting for a few minutes, the Chair said something about wanting to wrap things up because it was almost 3:30, and I glanced up at the clock on the wall.

"Holy batshit, Fatman!" I thought, "It is almost 3:30!" I checked my "I am so cool watch", and it read 2:30.

"What in the hell is going on? Shit! It must be broken," I thought, and then I pouted a bit because it's my favorite. Then, a thought occurred to me: "However, if it's broken, why is it only an hour behind? If it were broken, it should be stuck at 6:47, which is what it read this morning when I put it on."

So I sat there and puzzled and puzzled 'til my puzzler was sore, and then it occurred to me that I hadn't worn the watch for several months and so hadn't set it ahead for Daylight-Saving Time like I had my other, more quotidian watches.

"La la lala la," I thought as I hurriedly set my watch ahead several weeks too late, "I'm a freakin' dumbass ... but my watch is so cool!"