Invariably, when I return, like a properly-thrown boomerang, to the HoB to decry some foolish behavior on someone's part -- be it a celebrity, a so-called "TV personality" or some random douchebag I encountered on the bus or the train -- I usually have more than enough logic propelling my decision to rip said individual a new one.
I've had plenty of opportunities to wax condescending on a variety of the aforementioned daily encounters over the past ten days, and yet these pages have, thus far, remained fallow.
Why, pray tell, do I not rail on those who err in their daily lives, when such action practically begs for some sort of written record of such stupidity, and especially when said action affects me on some adverse level?
First and foremost, I've been extraordinally busy. Merely suggesting "work has me slammed" isn't quite sufficient to describe the mental head-banging-into-a-wall sense I've been enjoying. Having said that, I, for better or worse, prefer the balls-to-the-wall (or was that head-banging-against-the-wall) pressure that comes with my daily existence. Even if I didn't, it's an accepted fact that that's the way 'tis, so I've become used to it.
On top of that, I finally pulled the trigger on a new couch. I'd been meandering over the notion of replacing "Blackie," a sleeper sofa I've had since the Nixon administration (just kidding), that was in relatively good shape. The problem was the cushions were starting to look like a bit worn, and I decided -- finally -- to put Old Glory out of her misery.
And misery is more appropriate than even I would have thought.
I put an ad on Craigslist and no one seemed to be interested. Couple that apathy with the call I received from the delivery company advising me the couch was ready to be delivered.
I rescheduled the delivery a week after I'd originally hoped to receive the new couch, and put yet another ad in Craigslist, offering Blackie for free. "Just come and get it with a friend and it's yours."
I got lots of interest but apparently no takers. Bad economy my ass.
Another week, another call to the delivery company advising me of a new delivery date that would have to be delayed yet again.
Finally, after having a bunch of e-mails and one used couch, I had a couple guys who work in my building help me move the behemoth out to the curb. So as of 6PM this past Friday, I rearranged half of the apartment to make room for the exeunt of the Black Beast, and as of 6:30PM, the couch was resting comfortably on the sidewalk with the rest of the quasi-trash from my 10-floor apartment building.
And as of 12:30 AM -- only six short hours later -- Old Glory had disappeared. Apparently someone decided that my ad extolling the virtue of my sofa, protected in the warmth and comfort of my apartment, was not quite adequate, and only after she had reached the curb did someone -- finally -- show interest.
Personally, half of me takes comfort in the fact that someone will make use of what remains a really solid, well-made sofa. And the other half of me is a bit tweaked that I couldn't give the fucking thing away.
And yet another half of me is wondering if someone just nabbed it to carve it up and use the leather to make g-strings or something.
I suppose we'll never know.
Speaking of meandering, I was about to delve back into why I have been too busy to call out those individuals who have ingratiated themselves into my not-so-good graces. And I've been so busy with the tale of Old Glory that I got sidetracked, and, therefore, will have to return another day to finish what is, in theory, this train of thought.
More to come.
Oh, and Happy April Fool's Day to every- and anyone reading this. I'd rip out a kickin' joke or something akin thereto, but the fact that you, the reader, have made it this far and continued reading suggests that, clearly, the joke is emphatically on you ;-)
More to come...
PS RIP Z Gallerie in NYC...at least for now.