Reese is clearly not a Sonic Youth fan. I was listening to Experimental Jet Set, Trash & No Star when Reese said, “What is that noise?!”

“It’s music.”

“No it isn’t!”

I guess he isn’t the first to say that…

I already knew, that to some degree, I am an Evolutionary Failure, but this trip reinforced that.

I got sunburned in Wales.

No, I didn’t think it was possible either, but I pulled it off. I looked in the mirror after a day of hiking and my face and neck were burned. When I woke up the next morning there was a note on my pillow:

Dear Joshua,

Look, lets just be honest with ourselves, this isn’t working out. We’ve really tried, but after yesterday’s little display it is clear that you can’t live here anymore.

I am sorry to trouble you with this, but Natural Selection and I are going to have to do something about this. Sunburned in Wales?! This can’t continue.

Sincerely,
The Earth

In a fit of last minute vacation insanity I am joining my father for a 50 mile walk across Offa’s Dyke in Wales. Wales, now that is a country where my skin belongs. Maybe in a cave in Wales.

I will be back in one week, better and pastier than ever.

You people that don’t operate in a state of constant sleep deprivation need to wake up. Literally. I mean it. Quit sleeping so much.

I tend to go to bed around 1:30 am and get up around 7 am. I find that this schedule really frees my mind. It leaves my thoughts unburdened by things like cohesion, clarity, creativity…

I wrote this in March while sitting in a Starbucks in Fullerton California with California Stars in my head.

A coworker just IMed me and we tried to joke about me— the Mormon in the Coffee Shop. Neither of us knew enough about coffee to make very funny jokes, but the smell has jogged my memory and coffee and stars have come pouring out.

What I do know about coffee is the sight of it drying in great red bean heaps on burlap sacks in front of Andean homes. Where every boy in town has been working in the fields from morning to night because it is harvest time. Every home you enter offers you a “cafecito” that you graciously decline.

I can picture the streets of Barrio Monsenor Moreno now that I have written it. I can see them climbing right up into the tops of the hills. Low cinder block homes, papaya trees, and bean-covered burlap stretched out on the steep sidewalks. I can feel the sticky vinyl benches of the ancient door-less vans that take you to the top for 25 cents.

I loved it when we were up there so late that the buses stopped running and we would have to walk down the hill in the dark, the air finally cool after another hot day, echoing feet on cobblestone streets, and the sky full of more stars than you can imagine.

I once watched a lizard have a heart attack as it ran up a wall.

I suppose it’s possible that the lizard didn’t have a heart attack…maybe it slipped and fell to its death. One minute scurrying sure-footedly, the next, free-falling to a back-flop on the concrete?

I just never expect to see an animal fall. You know, the Majesty of Nature and all… but I bet it’s not really all that majestic. How many mountain goats trip and fall to their deaths each year? How often do eagles dive-bomb their prey and overshoot, only to slam into the ground and tumble in feathery cartwheels? I bet monkeys miss the next branch and land on their butts all the time.

Someone must have stats on this kind of stuff.

I watched a show on Komodo Dragons the other day. This nine-foot, two hundred pound lizard, trailing three-foot streams of bacteria-fortified saliva, ambled up to a herd of wild deer–and they did not run. The dragon, of course, bit one of the deer, dooming it to death by blood poisoning and eventual eating-by-giant-lizard.

Again, it was a NINE-FOOT LIZARD WITH THREE-FOOT STREAMS OF SALIVA! Come on deer, OF COURSE it bit you! If a nine-foot lizard enters the same state I will run. I only live in Utah because the zoo here is too crappy to have Komodo Dragons.

Actually, after watching that, I may stop being afraid of Komodo Dragons. I don’t think it’s smart enough to catch an animal that doesn’t just sit and wait to be eaten. Its entire hunting strategy consisted of lumbering into the middle of a deer herd and biting the nearest dimwit (though that didn’t stop the narrator from calling it an “ambush”).

As long as I am at it, I may drop my long-standing policy of being terrified of lions too. I could easily outsmart a lion. I can picture telling my grandchildren the story, “…and as the lion was about to pounce I shouted, ”What’s that?!“ and pointed behind him. As he turned to look I kicked him right in the nuts. He crumpled to the ground and I bit him on the nose for good measure.”

Then I would refill my pipe.

Stupid animals.

This morning I put on my pants and noticed that they seemed a bit shorter. The first thought to come into my head was, “You shrank my battle pants!”

For those of you who may not remember the excellent game: Battleship

In a bid to lure young college graduates, Michigan Gov. Jennifer Granholm has become a [Richard] Florida disciple. Last year, she launched a statewide “cool cities” program.

In doing so, she donned a pair of sunglasses and promised a future Detroit that’s “so cool, you have to wear shades.”

I sat down to write an entry ridiculing Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth, the standout psycho-freak of The Apprentice. I was going to write a fake biography for her, something like, “Omarosa overcame a difficult childhood. Raised by a rabid pigeon until age 18, Omarosa miraculously learned to communicate fluently in English, unfortunately, she still has the social graces of a tapeworm.”

However, after reading her answer to an interview question:

What cartoon character do you most relate to and why?

“The cartoon character that I most relate to is Optimus Prime from the ‘The Transformers’. Optimus Prime is the leader of the Transformers and works as a powerful force of goodness, courage and wisdom in the battle against the evil Decepticons. He first tries to find peaceful solutions to conflicts, but when battle lines are drawn, he becomes a fierce warrior capable of overpowering vast enemy forces to achieve his goals. I used to watch this cartoon when I was little with my brothers and sister and we loved it!”

I may have to rethink my opinion of her. She most relates to Optimus Prime!?

Adrienne was cleaning out the garage today and she stumbled on the first letter I ever wrote to her.

Mrs. Blumer,

If your damn dog doesn’t shut up I am going to shoot it!

Can’t a man get a decent night’s sleep in his own home!? I mean, I can understand not sleeping well in someone else’s home-you know, if you just showed up and layed down on their couch- then maybe you could expect to be awakened by someone saying, “what the hell are you doing on my couch!” But in my own bed?! So shut up the chiuahua or he gets it!

Great customer service exchange forwarded to me by my friend Josh.

From: T-Mobile Customer Care
Reply-To: T-Mobile Customer Care
To: joshmcallaway@—.com
Subject: I just signed up for a T-Mobile plan, and I am absolutely amazed that I can’t… [Incident: 040203-001679]

Customer – 05:09 PM
I just signed up for a T-Mobile plan, and I am absolutely amazed that I can’t seem to find a normal ring tone. There seem to be thousands of songs I could use. Why isn’t there just one actual RING tone? You know, a ring, like a telephone sounds like? I don’t want a MegaTone(R), just a ring tone.

I have the Samsung x105, and no actual rings came with the phone, either. Please tell me I just can’t find where the actual ring tones are on your site. I think I would rather shove ice picks in each ear than be subjected to an electronic rendition of a Justin Timberlake song every time someone calls me (though in his case, it is actually an improvement).

If you do not offer any ring tones, for the love of all that is holy, please consider adding some.

Thank you.

Josh Callaway

—————————————–

—————————————–

Response (Ben) – 02/03/2004 07:05 PM

Dear Josh Callaway,

Thank you for taking the time to contact T-Mobile.

We understand that you are looking for a normal ring tone. Unfortunately we do not have the regular ring tone available. We understand your sentiments about the Timberlake ring tone and recommend that you search some of the many ring tone sites available.

If you have any other comments, questions, or concerns, please feel free to contact us.

Thank you for choosing T-Mobile.

Sincerely,
T-Mobile USA, Inc.
Benjamin
Customer Care Specialist

A video from my spontaneous drive to California. If you haven’t read it yet, read the original entry before watching the movie for some context.

Damn.

I am just waiting.

I know it is coming, and I know there is nothing I can do about it. I guess I could attempt to check myself into the hospital as a preemptive measure, but I’m not sure they would admit me for impending food poisoning. Besides, I’m a dead man anyway.

I ate lunch today with some work buddies, Duane, Chad, and Cory. Duane suggested we eat at “A little mom-and-pop mexican place, you’ll love it.”

I have eaten in tin shacks with dirt floors while chickens ran around my ankles, I have eaten in a truck stop in Mexico with so many flies I could barely see my friend across the table. I have never been in a place like La Tormenta.

I don’t think I can really explain what it looked like, but I will try (while I still have the strength to type). The exterior looked like an abandoned garage. The interior was worse. The floor was covered in dirty plush carpet. The ceiling was covered in wood paneling with bare fluorescent tubes, about half of which were working (I wish more of them were out so I couldn’t have seen the walls or the tables).

The walls were covered in depressing paintings of tropical “paradises” framed by split bamboo. The place had apparently been a polynesian restaurant at some point. There were stains all over the walls. The dining area was filled with second-hand dining tables from the ’70s, none of them matching, and none of which had been wiped down in weeks.

The chairs were a mixture of plastic patio furniture and upholstered Salvation Army rejects on casters. A large can of Raid sat on the filthy carpet by my chair.

Besides ancient crumbs, the table had a crusty bottle of Tapatío hot sauce with no cap, and a glass dish filled with what looked to be fossilized oregano.

This was what Chad would call “eating on a dare.” I’m still not sure why we didn’t run from the place screaming.

The waitress said “hola”, every tooth framed in silver, and asked, “Quien habla Español?” I did. She rattled off a short list of dishes that I can only imagine were the leftovers in her fridge. There were no printed menus. Duane asked me to tell her that he wanted two tacos with rice and beans. I did, barely resisting the urge to say, “Él quiere dos tacos de ojo, y para beber, urina de vaca“.

The rest of us never got a chance to order. She just walked away. We sat there laughing at how insane it was to eat in a place like this. Plan a murder? Yes. Drink a bottle of tequila in the corner while watching a dog fight? Yes. Eat? No!

There was plenty of gallows humor as we waited for our food. I’m not sure how she decided we all wanted two tacos with rice and beans, but there it was. We ate nervously, but I have to concede to Duane that the food was actually very good.

Cory, who also speaks spanish, had to go find the waitress so we could pay. Cash only of course. Apparently there were no set prices. “Let’s see, you guys had tacos…. What should I charge you? How about $8?” $8 total, for four lunches. I don’t think I have ever had a $2 lunch before.

We all got up and walked out, still laughing a bit nervously, but much more optimistic about our chances of survival. That was until Chad called our attention to the soiled mattress near the entrance. How did we miss that walking in!?

Banshees, the ace of spades…never has there been a more clear sign of death than that soiled mattress in La Tormenta.

I don’t expect any of us to make it through the night.

This year, instead of a new year’s resolution to exercise more, I settled on just harboring a negative body image equivalent to a 15 year-old girl with an eating disorder. This self-loathing has worked in a way that resolutions never have. I am now playing volleyball several hours a week and even volunteered to coach a boys club volleyball team. I highly recommend self-loathing as a motivational tool.

I am sure the Germans, the people that brought us schadenfreude, have a word for “motivational self-loathing”.

I am sitting here on the couch with ice packs on my knees. I have floor burns the size of silver dollars on both knees and my right hip, and I can’t lift my right arm higher than my shoulder. My right index finger is jammed and swollen to twice its normal size. It hurts, but in a pleasantly nostalgic way. I have spent a good chunk of my life like this, jammed fingers, ice packs, floor burns… it feels right.

Do the Germans have a word for “pleasantly nostalgic pain”?

I am thinking that learning German will help prepare me for this “washed-up former athlete” stage of my life.

Comments are now fixed.

I didn’t realize they were broken until Eric kindly emailed me today and told me.

I was getting a drink from the drinking fountain by the bathrooms at work when I heard a toilet flush, and suddenly the water pressure in the fountain dropped.

Logic didn’t matter, the drinking fountain was now firmly associated with the toilet and I didn’t hang around to see if the pressure came back. I may never drink from that fountain again.