NOOOO LUDO NOOOOO
i just posted that last vide and was browsin' the tube, as we all do from time to time, and a 'featured video' was a song by the worst band in the whole world, Ludo.
i know this because over the summer there was a kid i worked with overnight who had 3-4 songs by them on his shuffle and they just kept cycling through...
they're just the worst. the worst.
and i quote: (from their song 'japan it!')
Let's go to Japan
I'm not joking this time
So go get your bags packed
We'll be just fine
We'll both wear Kimono's
No shoes on our feet
Just take my hand
Japan it with me
Its an archipelago exotic and pure
Of ancient enchantments, so says the brochure
I need a place where there's no room to grow
Watch out Tokyo
I'm coming
you read correctly: archipelago. really? really!?
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
so a ways back i downloaded 'i can only imagine', which is of course an album of christian pop songs. and you may be familiar with this song -
awesome god.
now, the original song is pretty fantastic. but mia has opened my eyes to the glory, the ABSOLUTE GLORY of the -
rap version. of awesome god.
unfortunately the only way i can listen is through an itunes preview...and i can't find any downloads anywhere. WAIT i'll try youtube.
...and reason #28236 why i love youtube:
haha.
awesome god.
now, the original song is pretty fantastic. but mia has opened my eyes to the glory, the ABSOLUTE GLORY of the -
rap version. of awesome god.
unfortunately the only way i can listen is through an itunes preview...and i can't find any downloads anywhere. WAIT i'll try youtube.
...and reason #28236 why i love youtube:
haha.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
do you ever get a 'what's the point' sort of vibe? i guess it just takes one little sentence to get me into this mood.
my theatre history teacher just reminded me of the fact that we're all gonna die. don't get me wrong, i'm not on some immortality kick, i just don't think about it much.
it sucks pretty bad, the idea of me dying. sucks pretty bad thinking about everyone else dying. just sucks.
aaaaaand well done, ipod. 'everybody hurts' by rem. you understand me best, ipod touch. hah.
well, here's what i'll do. i'm gonna go to international zone and buy a calzone. then i'm gonna eat that calzone SO HARD then i'll be happy. i am a baby. get some food in me and i'll stop being cranky or sad and i'll start giggling. a big hairy 21-year old baby. yep.
amber by 311. another wise choice, ipod touch. you do know how to cut to my core.
my theatre history teacher just reminded me of the fact that we're all gonna die. don't get me wrong, i'm not on some immortality kick, i just don't think about it much.
it sucks pretty bad, the idea of me dying. sucks pretty bad thinking about everyone else dying. just sucks.
aaaaaand well done, ipod. 'everybody hurts' by rem. you understand me best, ipod touch. hah.
well, here's what i'll do. i'm gonna go to international zone and buy a calzone. then i'm gonna eat that calzone SO HARD then i'll be happy. i am a baby. get some food in me and i'll stop being cranky or sad and i'll start giggling. a big hairy 21-year old baby. yep.
amber by 311. another wise choice, ipod touch. you do know how to cut to my core.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
hah, not to belabor the black friday thing, but last night.... this morning, i suppose i was reading some material at target about their november 28th plans....
or, i should say, their plans for
green friday.
haha, that's probably waaaay worse than any others. other than maybe happy friday or something. there was a bunch of product that came in, though, that was marked as 'black friday merchandise'... not like written labels but legit-ass printed labels. so it's not a widespread memo apparently. but green friday?! i mean, come on!
or, i should say, their plans for
green friday.
haha, that's probably waaaay worse than any others. other than maybe happy friday or something. there was a bunch of product that came in, though, that was marked as 'black friday merchandise'... not like written labels but legit-ass printed labels. so it's not a widespread memo apparently. but green friday?! i mean, come on!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
sometimes typing in wingdings is the best idea because when you’re in astronomy and the annoying frat guy right behind you is probably looking at your screen along with shaking your chair with his foot you don’t really want him to read what you’re writing, especially when it’s probably pretty angry toward him. that being said, he’s a dick.
anyway, tonight i head upstate to target.
over the summer, i worked at target 3-5 nights a week as an overnight worker. the job is not very difficult, it’s just taxing because it’s from ten pm to six am. over the summer, though, i had two jobs, working full time at radio shack then at night. oftentimes they would coincide nicely, but there were those couple times where it really got tough on me.
i won’t detail the job as much as i would in person, but i was and am basically an overnight stocker. i restock the shelves so you and your families can come into target and get what you came for. and probably a little more!
it pays relatively well and i like the people i work with and i’m pretty good at it. so it’s a good job.
anyway, tonight i head upstate to target.
over the summer, i worked at target 3-5 nights a week as an overnight worker. the job is not very difficult, it’s just taxing because it’s from ten pm to six am. over the summer, though, i had two jobs, working full time at radio shack then at night. oftentimes they would coincide nicely, but there were those couple times where it really got tough on me.
i won’t detail the job as much as i would in person, but i was and am basically an overnight stocker. i restock the shelves so you and your families can come into target and get what you came for. and probably a little more!
it pays relatively well and i like the people i work with and i’m pretty good at it. so it’s a good job.
you know what’s funny? hot friday.
hot friday, luke? well what in the wide world of sports is that?
i’m glad you asked, luke. ‘hot friday’ is apparently the new name for black friday (the day after thanksgiving).
possible reasons for this.
-black friday sounds like the black plague, and that’s no fun.
-black friday doesn’t seem to encourage consumers to purchase things
-black friday also could refer back to black monday, the day the stock market crashed and caused the great depression... with the stock market as it is nowadays we probably want to stray away from any and all references to said time.
-black friday is no longer acceptable because our president is black (barry!!) (!!)
whatever the reason, i’m not a fan. well, i’m a fan of our new president elect! but other than that, no.
because! because black friday isn’t a negative thing at all! it’s called that because businesses on that day are pretty much always in the black, and that’s a good thing! cause they’re not in the red! and i like it because it does have that ‘dread’ sort of feel to it, and having a job in retail, i can strongly appreciate that aspect of the name.
i swear there are some videos coming sometime.
hot friday, luke? well what in the wide world of sports is that?
i’m glad you asked, luke. ‘hot friday’ is apparently the new name for black friday (the day after thanksgiving).
possible reasons for this.
-black friday sounds like the black plague, and that’s no fun.
-black friday doesn’t seem to encourage consumers to purchase things
-black friday also could refer back to black monday, the day the stock market crashed and caused the great depression... with the stock market as it is nowadays we probably want to stray away from any and all references to said time.
-black friday is no longer acceptable because our president is black (barry!!) (!!)
whatever the reason, i’m not a fan. well, i’m a fan of our new president elect! but other than that, no.
because! because black friday isn’t a negative thing at all! it’s called that because businesses on that day are pretty much always in the black, and that’s a good thing! cause they’re not in the red! and i like it because it does have that ‘dread’ sort of feel to it, and having a job in retail, i can strongly appreciate that aspect of the name.
i swear there are some videos coming sometime.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
this here is another play that i wrote, but this one is from last semester... back in the spring. i was in a bind about whether or not i’d get the rights to the play i did, ‘guys’...which is here now:
ok wait i'll add this later tonight, apparently i don't have it in a small (100mb) version yet. soon, though!
so i really quickly wrote this little diddy, which the professor said i could do if i wanted. i decided against it cause i really loved ‘guys’, but i am proud of this one, entitled
Ketchup
By Luke Allard
Two people, A and B, in a living room, perhaps a basement. A couch, a recliner, a coffee table and a stereo system with relatively large speakers on either side. A is lying, stretched out, on the couch, with a container of fries in his hand. B has the stereo receiver on her lap, and is connecting the speaker wires to the back of the receiver. B keeps her head down and focused on the task at hand throughout A’s first speech. A stares at the ceiling, hands behind head, thinking. They sit/lay in silence for a few moments when A, with a furrowed brow, says
A
you know what really gets me? (pause) ketchup packets.
B
oh?
A
yeah, ketchup packets. I can’t stand them. I mean, there is absolutely nothing practical about them. Nothing.
B
well, other than the…ketchup part, you mean.
A
no, that part is cancelled out by all the other negative aspects of the ketchup packet. Alright so say you’re in a restaurant, a fast food establishment, and you order and all that, and they give you your food and they say ‘you want sauce?’ and of course you want sauce and they plop a fistful of these ketchup packets right down on your tray. That’s where the impracticality starts. Because now that I have this fistful of ketchup packet, I feel obliged to use every packet that’s in front of me, because I’m not going to return the packets I don’t use and I’d really prefer not to dispose of an unopened packet. Then you sit down and go to work on these things. And you go to tear one open and it’s not enough of an opening to quickly empty, or it’s too big and it gets all over your fingers, or HEAVEN FORBID you’ve had a fry or two already and your fingers are too greasy to even get a grip on the little edges, but finally, finally you get a decent pile of ketchup on your paper placemat. And what do you have, just to the side of your ketchup? An even larger pile of the former homes of the ketchup, cast aside now that they have been vacated of their original inhabitant. It’s a fucking shame.
B
that’s America for you.
A
It is! That’s my point! We create these horribly wasteful little ketchup filled non-biodegradable mother-earth abusing…
B
…catalysts of counter-existence?
A
touché.
B
So what do we do about it?
A
We exclusively go to fast food places that have those hand-pump and paper-cup ketchup dispensers. and! And! We find a use for the empty packets.
B
what the hell could empty packets be used for?
A
hm. Well, we could…refill them?
B
you can. I have my own social and environmental injustices to struggle with.
A
like what?
B
eh, I don’t know yet. But I’ll find some.
A
Oh no.
B
(pause) what?
A
I just thought of all the people who make those ketchup packets. If it wasn’t for those little harbingers of the apocalypse, hundreds, perhaps THOUSANDS of blue collar factory workers would be out of a job, no longer able to support their families, unable to provide little Billy or Jenny an opportunity, nay, a glimmer of hope to…to make something of themselves.
B
true.
B stands up and places the receiver back on the table it belongs. Plugs in the power, hits the power button. The receiver lights up. She turns a dial and it clicks twice before Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind” comes on, softly. B turns the volume up to a reasonable volume and the two remain still, listening. A closes eyes and smiles, slightly. The song ends and the two continue to be still in the silence. A opens eyes.
A
we should make a movie.
B
what about?
A
…about… about war protest.
B
which war?
A
depends on how we wanna do it. Do we want to make it back in time, say world war two or one, or the civil war, or revolutionary war, or Korean, or Vietnam, war on terror, war on drugs, war on-
B
we could make up a war.
A
but we have so many to choose from that aren’t made up!
B
true, but think of the creative freedom we could have if we created our own one… we could make a war over… over spilt milk.
A
isn’t that a saying or something?
B
yeah. it’d be ironic.
A
but why would there be a war over spilt milk?
B
does it have to be war on a grand scale?
A
I hadn’t thought of it that way…no, it doesn’t.
B
it could be a ‘war’ in a house! Of like three people…roommates….
A
and one spills milk but doesn’t clean it up for some reason…
B
and another gets unnecessarily pissed over it!
A
well, spilt-spoiled milk…I’m not sure if there’s a limit to how pissed one can get over that.
B
true. Regardless. The spiller thinks it’s an overreaction. So, just to piss off the angry roommate he doesn’t clean it up.
A
but how can he stand the stench?
B
he just stays in his room and away from the kitchen, whereas angry roommate has the room closest to the kitchen AND loves to cook. Also, he’s got a girl who he wants to date coming to the house the following night.
A
is it really necessary that he loves to cook?
B
alright forget the culinary affection.
A
so how is this a war protest movie?
B
I’m glad you asked. To add some humor to the movie, we’ll have the third roommate, a hippy-type character who doesn’t want to take sides-
A
how can you be on the spiller’s side?
B
hm. Well, we’ll figure that out after.
A
alright.
B
(pause) You know, we could make a movie of just us talking. Could be interesting.
(pause)
A
…Nah.
B stands up and takes out another record, unknown to the audience, and puts it on the turntable. She turns down the volume a bit and the song “Sound of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkle comes on softly, and 30-45 seconds into the song, the two speak. The song continues in the background.
A
do you think we’re not productive enough?
B
how do you mean?
A
well, we spend a lot of our time laying here, talking about our plans, but rarely do we actually act on those ideas.
B
well, I just put this stereo system together.
A
and I’m so proud of you. I know it takes a lot of thought and concentration to put a wire into a little hole that is specifically made for said wire.
B
I don’t see you jumping up and doing this.
A
hey, I personally enjoy the…’sound of silence’. Heh heh heh.
B
wow, really? You really just said that?
A
mmm, I sure did. (pause) I’m thirsty. I’m gonna grab some “Mountain Lightning” from upstairs. (stands up, walks to base of stairs)
B
“Mountain Lightning?” you don’t mean…Mountain Dew?
A
Oh no, no no. I mean Mountain Lightning, freshly purchased for 25 cents a can at our local Price-Rite. Should I get two?
B
mark me down for a water, Zeus.
A
you got it! (runs up the stairs)
B stands up, walks over to the McDonald’s bag that is laying beside the couch. She picks it up, lies down, and reaches into the bag. She pulls out a fry and enjoys it. She reaches back in and pulls out a ketchup packet. She looks at it for a moment, looks up towards where A is getting the beverages, and reaches back into the bag and takes out two more. She tosses the bag back to the ground and sprawls out, head hanging upside down. She rips open the ketchup packets and pours them onto her skin and face, like blood, and smears it about. She lays still as A starts heading down the stairs
A
I think the secret ingredient to the mountain lightning is the real lightning. I mean-
Sees B laying motionless, covered in “blood”. Responds accordingly. He drops the drink with a smash and rushes over to her body. He gets some ketchup on him, looks inquisitively at it, swipes it with his finger and licks it. Looks peeved. B pops her head up and says as she reaches her hand up with ketchup packet in it
B
I guess they’re not…totally useless. (smile)
ok wait i'll add this later tonight, apparently i don't have it in a small (100mb) version yet. soon, though!
so i really quickly wrote this little diddy, which the professor said i could do if i wanted. i decided against it cause i really loved ‘guys’, but i am proud of this one, entitled
Ketchup
By Luke Allard
Two people, A and B, in a living room, perhaps a basement. A couch, a recliner, a coffee table and a stereo system with relatively large speakers on either side. A is lying, stretched out, on the couch, with a container of fries in his hand. B has the stereo receiver on her lap, and is connecting the speaker wires to the back of the receiver. B keeps her head down and focused on the task at hand throughout A’s first speech. A stares at the ceiling, hands behind head, thinking. They sit/lay in silence for a few moments when A, with a furrowed brow, says
A
you know what really gets me? (pause) ketchup packets.
B
oh?
A
yeah, ketchup packets. I can’t stand them. I mean, there is absolutely nothing practical about them. Nothing.
B
well, other than the…ketchup part, you mean.
A
no, that part is cancelled out by all the other negative aspects of the ketchup packet. Alright so say you’re in a restaurant, a fast food establishment, and you order and all that, and they give you your food and they say ‘you want sauce?’ and of course you want sauce and they plop a fistful of these ketchup packets right down on your tray. That’s where the impracticality starts. Because now that I have this fistful of ketchup packet, I feel obliged to use every packet that’s in front of me, because I’m not going to return the packets I don’t use and I’d really prefer not to dispose of an unopened packet. Then you sit down and go to work on these things. And you go to tear one open and it’s not enough of an opening to quickly empty, or it’s too big and it gets all over your fingers, or HEAVEN FORBID you’ve had a fry or two already and your fingers are too greasy to even get a grip on the little edges, but finally, finally you get a decent pile of ketchup on your paper placemat. And what do you have, just to the side of your ketchup? An even larger pile of the former homes of the ketchup, cast aside now that they have been vacated of their original inhabitant. It’s a fucking shame.
B
that’s America for you.
A
It is! That’s my point! We create these horribly wasteful little ketchup filled non-biodegradable mother-earth abusing…
B
…catalysts of counter-existence?
A
touché.
B
So what do we do about it?
A
We exclusively go to fast food places that have those hand-pump and paper-cup ketchup dispensers. and! And! We find a use for the empty packets.
B
what the hell could empty packets be used for?
A
hm. Well, we could…refill them?
B
you can. I have my own social and environmental injustices to struggle with.
A
like what?
B
eh, I don’t know yet. But I’ll find some.
A
Oh no.
B
(pause) what?
A
I just thought of all the people who make those ketchup packets. If it wasn’t for those little harbingers of the apocalypse, hundreds, perhaps THOUSANDS of blue collar factory workers would be out of a job, no longer able to support their families, unable to provide little Billy or Jenny an opportunity, nay, a glimmer of hope to…to make something of themselves.
B
true.
B stands up and places the receiver back on the table it belongs. Plugs in the power, hits the power button. The receiver lights up. She turns a dial and it clicks twice before Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind” comes on, softly. B turns the volume up to a reasonable volume and the two remain still, listening. A closes eyes and smiles, slightly. The song ends and the two continue to be still in the silence. A opens eyes.
A
we should make a movie.
B
what about?
A
…about… about war protest.
B
which war?
A
depends on how we wanna do it. Do we want to make it back in time, say world war two or one, or the civil war, or revolutionary war, or Korean, or Vietnam, war on terror, war on drugs, war on-
B
we could make up a war.
A
but we have so many to choose from that aren’t made up!
B
true, but think of the creative freedom we could have if we created our own one… we could make a war over… over spilt milk.
A
isn’t that a saying or something?
B
yeah. it’d be ironic.
A
but why would there be a war over spilt milk?
B
does it have to be war on a grand scale?
A
I hadn’t thought of it that way…no, it doesn’t.
B
it could be a ‘war’ in a house! Of like three people…roommates….
A
and one spills milk but doesn’t clean it up for some reason…
B
and another gets unnecessarily pissed over it!
A
well, spilt-spoiled milk…I’m not sure if there’s a limit to how pissed one can get over that.
B
true. Regardless. The spiller thinks it’s an overreaction. So, just to piss off the angry roommate he doesn’t clean it up.
A
but how can he stand the stench?
B
he just stays in his room and away from the kitchen, whereas angry roommate has the room closest to the kitchen AND loves to cook. Also, he’s got a girl who he wants to date coming to the house the following night.
A
is it really necessary that he loves to cook?
B
alright forget the culinary affection.
A
so how is this a war protest movie?
B
I’m glad you asked. To add some humor to the movie, we’ll have the third roommate, a hippy-type character who doesn’t want to take sides-
A
how can you be on the spiller’s side?
B
hm. Well, we’ll figure that out after.
A
alright.
B
(pause) You know, we could make a movie of just us talking. Could be interesting.
(pause)
A
…Nah.
B stands up and takes out another record, unknown to the audience, and puts it on the turntable. She turns down the volume a bit and the song “Sound of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkle comes on softly, and 30-45 seconds into the song, the two speak. The song continues in the background.
A
do you think we’re not productive enough?
B
how do you mean?
A
well, we spend a lot of our time laying here, talking about our plans, but rarely do we actually act on those ideas.
B
well, I just put this stereo system together.
A
and I’m so proud of you. I know it takes a lot of thought and concentration to put a wire into a little hole that is specifically made for said wire.
B
I don’t see you jumping up and doing this.
A
hey, I personally enjoy the…’sound of silence’. Heh heh heh.
B
wow, really? You really just said that?
A
mmm, I sure did. (pause) I’m thirsty. I’m gonna grab some “Mountain Lightning” from upstairs. (stands up, walks to base of stairs)
B
“Mountain Lightning?” you don’t mean…Mountain Dew?
A
Oh no, no no. I mean Mountain Lightning, freshly purchased for 25 cents a can at our local Price-Rite. Should I get two?
B
mark me down for a water, Zeus.
A
you got it! (runs up the stairs)
B stands up, walks over to the McDonald’s bag that is laying beside the couch. She picks it up, lies down, and reaches into the bag. She pulls out a fry and enjoys it. She reaches back in and pulls out a ketchup packet. She looks at it for a moment, looks up towards where A is getting the beverages, and reaches back into the bag and takes out two more. She tosses the bag back to the ground and sprawls out, head hanging upside down. She rips open the ketchup packets and pours them onto her skin and face, like blood, and smears it about. She lays still as A starts heading down the stairs
A
I think the secret ingredient to the mountain lightning is the real lightning. I mean-
Sees B laying motionless, covered in “blood”. Responds accordingly. He drops the drink with a smash and rushes over to her body. He gets some ketchup on him, looks inquisitively at it, swipes it with his finger and licks it. Looks peeved. B pops her head up and says as she reaches her hand up with ketchup packet in it
B
I guess they’re not…totally useless. (smile)
last night was my good pal benny’s birthday. i was at a loss for what to get him... i’ve never been a very good gift giver, and, as with the rest of my life, never very timely about it. so last night at about 9:30pm i said well, i should probably get the ol’ boy something. had it been his 21st birthday i likely would have bought him a drink and that would be that. it was not his 21st birthday. so i’m sitting there on the couch, the couch he regularly occupies for overnight stays, and i say ‘oh he broke his sidekick’s screen the other day. i should get him a new one.’ on i venture to the world of craigslist. i pointed out to sej how happy i was that the only clicked link on my craigslist was ‘casual encounters’. i’ve never gone through with one, but damn are they fun to read. no, this time i clicked on the for sale > electronics and searched sidekick. i emailed a few people, to no avail, even texted a dude (who promptly said he didn’t have it any longer) then finally i reached someone named artison. i checked all over google to see if this person i was dealing with was a fellow or lady, to no avail. so i explained the situation and that i wanted to get it tonight... luckily they were compliant. they were from providence, so i said we should meet at the burger king next to the ihop next to providence place (you know, somewhere neutral, well lit, etc.)... but said seller wasn’t down with that idea, as said seller couldn’t get there, because said seller didn’t have a car. so said seller gave me the address and i put it into googlemaps and found a picture of the house... 198 amherst st. give it a whirl, you might have a similar reaction. it seemed to be in the, excuse my language, the ghetta.
regardless, sej and i hopped in the car, sej armed with a tiny swiss army knife and a larger one and me armed with naught but my charm and gruff demeanor. i had asked said seller for their telephone number, but they said ‘no, my friend’s grandmother gets mad if people call late at night so i’ll call you in 30 minutes’. red flag? should be, for a less trusting person. or a normal person. me? oh no that’s fine, that’s fine. so off we go. we get off of 95 and drive down manton ave, had a small conversation about what ‘colortyme’ is, and eventually we pull up to the home, in olneyville. at eleven o’clock. sej and i sit there for a pretty long time, though maybe it wasn’t that long, it just felt that way. said seller had told me i could honk the horn but i didn’t want to make a disturbance so we sat there. eventually the door opened and a young man, probably 16-18 years old, walks down the stairs as i get out of the car. i had, for some reason, put the allotment of cash in my inside pocket of my jacket, a move i now regret a bit, because it was quite an uneasy look i got when i reached inside my jacket in front of artison. he was a nice enough fellow, handed me the sidekick and i handed him the money, trying to do so as nonchalantly as possible. then an awkward ‘thanks for the stuff’ moment and i was back in the car. sej had had his knife at the ready and had locked the door after i exited the car. i got back in and we sat there for a bit until we saw a car roll up behind us. then back down south we went. the phone wasn’t working, though. both sej and i are not well versed in the world of the sidekick so i thought i had been hosed, played, screwed, shisted, but apparently they just take a long time to charge a dead battery.
well, in the end it worked out and benny was really excited and blown away by the gesture. and he was even more blown away that we went all the way to olneyville at 11:00pm to get it. soon his thumbs will be dancing all over the keys on his new sidekick, though, and that’s all i could have hoped for.
hey, that’s just what i do for my pals.
regardless, sej and i hopped in the car, sej armed with a tiny swiss army knife and a larger one and me armed with naught but my charm and gruff demeanor. i had asked said seller for their telephone number, but they said ‘no, my friend’s grandmother gets mad if people call late at night so i’ll call you in 30 minutes’. red flag? should be, for a less trusting person. or a normal person. me? oh no that’s fine, that’s fine. so off we go. we get off of 95 and drive down manton ave, had a small conversation about what ‘colortyme’ is, and eventually we pull up to the home, in olneyville. at eleven o’clock. sej and i sit there for a pretty long time, though maybe it wasn’t that long, it just felt that way. said seller had told me i could honk the horn but i didn’t want to make a disturbance so we sat there. eventually the door opened and a young man, probably 16-18 years old, walks down the stairs as i get out of the car. i had, for some reason, put the allotment of cash in my inside pocket of my jacket, a move i now regret a bit, because it was quite an uneasy look i got when i reached inside my jacket in front of artison. he was a nice enough fellow, handed me the sidekick and i handed him the money, trying to do so as nonchalantly as possible. then an awkward ‘thanks for the stuff’ moment and i was back in the car. sej had had his knife at the ready and had locked the door after i exited the car. i got back in and we sat there for a bit until we saw a car roll up behind us. then back down south we went. the phone wasn’t working, though. both sej and i are not well versed in the world of the sidekick so i thought i had been hosed, played, screwed, shisted, but apparently they just take a long time to charge a dead battery.
well, in the end it worked out and benny was really excited and blown away by the gesture. and he was even more blown away that we went all the way to olneyville at 11:00pm to get it. soon his thumbs will be dancing all over the keys on his new sidekick, though, and that’s all i could have hoped for.
hey, that’s just what i do for my pals.
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