North Park Chillin’

        It was at about the time I was trying to decide whether or not to plant my left knee on the edge of the kitchen sink that I realized that my situation might possibly lead to a slight misunderstanding.  I’d managed to make it almost a week before becoming locked out of our new apartment, and now there I was, halfway through the process of breaking into my own home.

            Although finding myself in ridiculous situations is nothing new for me, I’d never been in a position quite like this one before. I was lying on the window sill; my head and torso inside the apartment, my legs dangling outside. Fortunately for me, this particular window faces an alley rather than the street. Otherwise, someone would have long since reported me. How, you may ask, did I find myself in such a predicament? It all began with a guy named Gary.

            Who is Gary? How the hell should I know? Apparently he is someone who doesn’t know his own phone number. Or so I gathered from the fact that for three consecutive mornings various employers and staffing agencies had been calling Dena’s phone number looking for him. This mistake wouldn’t have been such a big deal had the calls not originated in Georgia.

            For those of you who may not be familiar with the concept of time zones, there is a three hour time difference between the East coast and the West coast. http://www.worldtimezone.com/time-usa12.php This means that a call made at 9 AM in Georgia is received at 6 AM in San Diego. After three days of pre-dawn wake-up calls, I was exhausted. I feel very strongly that this fatigue contributed to my attempting to slither in the window like some physically challenged serpent just learning to crawl.

            Speaking of windows, have I mentioned how our two cats, Pip and Squeaky, suddenly found themselves outside for the first time in several years? While I wasn’t there to witness their grand exit from our living room, I have no doubt that it happened as follows: Pip was sitting in the window. Squeaky jumped up beside Pip. A brawl ensued. The combined weight of the two cats was too much for the window screen. Chaos ensued.

            Fortunately Dena was able to bring both cats back inside. The following day we went to Lowe’s in order to purchase some items to improve our new home (including a new screen for the window vacated by the cats, and a lock for the window broken into by me). One of the top items on our list was paint. As is the case in any new dwelling, there were some surfaces which were desperately in need of a fresh coat.

            We ventured into the paint department, where (I swear) the following shades were offered: pink interlude, woodchuck, Aztec rouge, fairhaven peach, muted thrush, plaza buff, nomad, paparazzi, ticket stub, elevator button, and transit pass. Remember the old days, when there were only eight colors? Sure you do. But it isn’t like that anymore. Now you find yourself staring at two identical shades of blue trying to decide between them. You talk about fun!

            After finally deciding on a color (it was called rose madder by the way. And you thought I couldn’t sneak a Stephen King reference into a story about being locked out. Ha! http://www.stephenking.com/library/novel/rose_madder.html ) we headed out to the parking lot. Speaking of parking lots, I recently paid $2.69 for parking. Why did I pay such an arbitrary amount? Because it was all I had at the time.

            We’d just come from a doctor’s appointment. This particular physician keeps his offices in a local hospital. Most of you know about the parking situation at most hospitals. And that situation results in you paying. I never understood the logic behind the theory that those in need of medical care are a prime target for extortion, but anyway. When we left the office, I realized that my cash position was nearly nonexistent. No problem, I thought. Surely the attendant will accept a credit card. The attendant did not. And don’t call me Shirley. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0A5t5_O8hdA.
So I convinced them to accept $2.69 in lieu of $4. Not exactly my greatest accomplishment, but you know something, not bad either.

            But back to my attempt to commit a B&E at my own home. I finally found a secure place for my left knee and shifted my weight to begin the final push for entry. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if I slipped and plunged head first to the kitchen floor. Maybe I would break my neck. That would be good. If nothing else it would save me the trouble of answering a lot of stupid questions when the police showed up.

            I eventually made it inside, though not before greatly enriching the vocabulary of every kid in the neighborhood.  The window I climbed through now has a new lock on it, so I suppose the next time I’m locked out I’ll have to flatten my body and slide under the door like some overgrown field mouse. Hopefully it won’t happen anytime soon. I could use a little recovery time before my next great embarrasment. I guess someday I’ll look back on moments like this and laugh. Actually its already pretty funny right now.

            Speaking of funny. Time for this week’s top ten list. Today’s topic: favorite comedy movies. I have no specific time span, nor any special criteria for this list. These are simply some of the funniest films I’ve seen in the recent past. Here we go:

  1. Forty Year Old Virgin
  2. Old School
  3. The Hangover
  4. Superbad
  5. Zach and Miri Make a Porno
  6. Ted
  7. Role Models
  8. Forgetting Sarah Marshall
  9. South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut
  10. Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy

There you go. You could do worse than spending a weekend watching some of these flicks. Just don’t forget to take your keys when you walk over to the convenience store for a six pack and a bag of chips. You wouldn’t want your neighbors to get suspicious would you? But then again, who cares what they think anyway. As always, thanks for reading. Good night, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

           

           

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