every saturday i clean the bathroom. part of my process includes replacing the set of towels. i throw the old set down and re-stock the bathroom with four large bath towels, 1 hand towel, and 1 wash cloth (for the shower).

on monday night i went to take a shower (as i realized it had been four days since my last shower -- a curious side-effect of working from home for me) and there was only one large towel hanging on the racks and it was damp. looking about, i found the second one, balled up and wet in front of the toilet. i started walking the house for the other two. i suspected they would be on the floors of one or more of the bedrooms. i suspected wrong. the search went on. in the end i found one in our computer cafe next to the kitchen on the first floor of the house and the other in the basement next to the washing machine.

while i will surely miss my children once they leave my home, i will surely not miss having to dry myself with wet towels that i had to search for once my children leave my home.

we live near a university campus and the students just returned for the new school year. since their arrival i've seen multiple astonishing demonstrations of obliviousness due to "living in their phone-itis". the most glaring case being a guy who walked into a busy intersection at a snail's pace. aside from the slow shuffle of his feet, all of his attention was spent trying to block the glare of the sun from his screen. meanwhile a long stack of cars waited for him to cross the street. i'd say he's mostly lucky the person behind the wheel of the lead car wasn't doing the same thing he was, otherwise all they would have found was a red smear and a shattered iphone.

between blocking traffic, having unusually loud one-sided conversations in public spaces, walking into people, sitting through green lights, slowing down order lines, derailing live conversations (the most unfortunate of the lot for me) and on and on, i think we need a new term to describe such indiscretions because the words we may have used in the past, like, say, "inconsiderate", no longer convey, fully, the numb egotism of this behavior.

out last brita pitcher lasted ten years. granted it very much limped along with a loose handle and cracked shell the last few years but it held its ground in admirable fashion. finally it purified its last reservoir and had to be put down.

the shiny new pitcher made the other seem totally monochrome. alex (9) excitedly filled the space-age model. together we watched the water accumulate in the anointed base with surprising speed. he then tipped it over the glass for the maiden taste test. as water began to flow from its spout, the lid fell off the top and dumped the water still being processed out all over the counter. being the paternal supervisor i instructed alex to step away as he was apparently not ready for such adult labor (said in a over-inflated gruff voice). i re-affixed the lid, re-filled the container, began the pour and had the lid near shoot off like it were a child's pop gun. to this alex said "see dad". to this i looked at him with my annoyed "yes i see alex" face. after realizing the lid just did not and would not fit i did what any back-boned american consumer would do—i accepted our society's inferior workmanship and put a rubber band around my brand new piece of technology and pined for my other one and the days that produced something as decent.

in addition to the lid not staying on, seemingly by design, there is a gap in the water reservoir that makes it so if you fill the container up all the way, the top 1/8 of inch worth of water leaks from the back running out the bottom of the handle, also seemingly by design. seeing things like this makes me wonder if employees are given like seven minutes to plan for something their company hopes to make for years and make millions of dollars on. what the hell is going on? however does something this completely flawed ever get made. it's utterly astonishing. sheesh.

the other day kottke.org posted the following. as someone who marvels at the infinite power of photography, the image blew me away. i can't imagine a place in the world i was less meant to occupy. i mean seriously.

i found out about the election results the morning after at the bus stop from some neighbors who routinely pass by walking a dog. it went something like this.

BETH
yeah, nate's tired. i let him stay up to watch the election.

TROY
oh! right! the election. do they know who won?

BETH (astonished look)
what? well yes.

TROY
so who was it?

BETH (still astonished)
you don't know?

TROY
no, i don't know. do they know?

later in the conversation beth asked me how i could ever be a good citizen without the news (backstory). i said i guess i couldn't be. what i didn't say to her was BEING A GOOD CITIZEN did not make the top ten list of things i hope to achieve with my life at this juncture and it's everything i can do to save and steal enough minutes for the things that did make the top ten. perhaps after my kids are all out of the house there will be room for which senators think rape is cool or who are having affairs with their assistants as well as other distant, out of my control things for my shiny, sexy mind to occupy itself with, but not yet, not now.

and yes, i know "now" may never come and i'm perfectly content with that in this particular case.

bella keeps a dream journal.

most mornings you'll find her in bed, freshly woken, leaning on her pillow and furiously scribbling in a spiral bound notebook. if you walk in, she'll sharply hold her hand up so you don't talk to her. once you nod your understanding, the hand darts back to the page and continues its mad dash.

the other morning while i was showering, bella came into to go pee. she started telling me about her dream.

BELLA
i had this babysitter. and she was hot. and then a second babysitter came and she was also hot.

TROY
are you saying hot like hot-pretty or hot-sweaty?

BELLA
hot-pretty.

TROY
ok. that's what i thought.

BELLA
well, then they got into a catfight over who was supposed to babysit me. and, oh, they were wearing swimsuits.

i don't want to say this dream was wasted on bella, but seriously, in a just universe, the ten year old girl doesn't get this dream, her father does.

i think a large part of the reason marty and i are as thin as we are is because our kitchen is so poorly designed. i say this after recently hearing a woman go on about the inefficiencies of her kitchen layout and her lavish plans for her new lavish kitchen. by her description things in her original kitchen seemed so barbaric i find it a wonder any food more complicated than ramen ever culminated out of such a primitive setup.

and if you're wondering how ill-conceived our kitchen is, given my record of only living in one-bathroom homes, i'm reasonably sure i've never lived in a home that could claim a smart and properly considered food-making room, by one woman's estimation at least.

i was talking with neighbor on the sidewalk in front of my house. she was walking her dog. a woman approached on the other side of the street. she was also walking a dog. when the dogs saw one another they started whimpering and making lunges against their leashes towards the other dog. the other-side-of-the-street woman seeing the dog near me, crossed the street directly for us. when she arrived the dogs began twisting and sniffing and jumbling up together mixing and crossing the two leashes crazily. no one said anything. then the woman extricated her leash from the mix, said good day, and continued on her walk.

the woman i was talking to me looked at me and asked if i knew the woman. i said i did not and that i assumed she must have. the woman scrunched her face, turned to look at the departing woman, turned back to me and derisively said, "who does that?"

the phrase "who does that?" and the intonation it was delivered with at that moment became my favorite quip and i've used in no less than five times since hearing it.

i read in the news that some guy threw his shoes at president bush during a press conference in iraq. the journalist took a sentence to report that "In Iraqi culture, throwing shoes at someone is a sign of contempt."

is there a culture where chucking shoes at people is a sign of adoration and support, aside from the elementary playground at least? sheesh.

for the most part, and by most i mean 98%, i steer clear of political battles but enough is enough. palin and her supporters have crossed a line i cannot forgive. i came to know this after running into a friend at lunch. he was walking with another gentleman and after being introduced the man i didn't know commented that i and sarah palin have something in common. assuming he wasn't talking about my creamy, stemlike gams i asked what that might be. glasses he said. it seems we share taste in the same designer. i'd like to go on record and say that i've worn the same model of glasses for nearly ten years, own two pair, and have only once met someone sporting a set from the same maker. pre-palin the maker sold 12,000 of her frames world-wide. in the last ten days they've received 9,000 orders from the us. embarrassing.

tomorrow's debate is happening about 100 yards from my office and while i don't know biden that well, based on the below video, if the result of their verbal fencing proves anything short of tarantino-like bloodletting, i'll be legitimately appalled.



huh? were you saying something? or was that a story? or a made-up language? this could explain the naming of her children. she really meant to name her son 'john' but when she opened her mouth and it went through the palin-filter, the word 'track' came out.

and as this reporter so aptly states, we are one 72-year old's heartbeat away from this woman becoming president. and, by this woman, i mean this woman.

i've dated girls with more presidential potential than palin. and as one friend noted, what a great slight to give a guy, "wow. troy. your new girlfriend is, uhm, very, uhm, presidential." i love it.

my doctor wants to stick his finger in my butt. i used to think he just wanted to a little. now i think he wants to a lot because he's taken to calling my house and telling me i really need to come in because he hasn't seen me since 2006. what he's forgetting is it was that 2006 appointment that he first suggested taking our relationship to the next level. i told him we'd do it the next time and he agreed. he just didn't totally understand what he was agreeing to. truth is, my spleen would have to be spilling out my bellybutton for me to even consider another visit.

it's kind of unfortunate that they had to come calling on this day because this day was beautiful. starting at 9am the sky opened up and vomited seven inches of fluffy, swirling snow on the city. it was a spectacular scene, observed from my fourth story office window at least. and when it was time to leave, i leisurely walked through the 150 year-old, freshly blanketed campus with amelie softly serenading me. and had it not been for the returning notion of my bunghole-inbounds appointment, the walk home may have been perfect. but it wasn't because in time it made me think of another mind-soiling moment i had in the last twenty-four hours. the day before the snow came i found a tattered strip of stationary blowing around my yard.


in case the hand-writing's giving you fits, it reads in full:
crotch-rash
rectal-hemorrhoids
burning left thigh
sore right ankle/foot
dec - saw podiatrist
viagra rx or other
coughing
diarrhea - abdominal pains
backache - old brace
mood swing
i blurt out stuff
I aggravates

did i mention that the stationary was personalized. tragic that. i'll never be able to look at, or stand within ten feet of, this neighbor again. fact of the matter is, i'm considering moving. some people would think this laundry list of game-ending afflictions would center me, giving me the strength to go forward with my own routine maintenance. those people would be right. it does make me want to see my doctor. hell, that list makes me want to get a pap smear to boot. but i still ain't going. i'm holding out until they can see whatever it is they want to see while standing on the other side of the room or while i'm totally knocked out. sticking something up my ass is, in the least, an out-patient procedure requiring table straps and a licensed anesthesiologist. perhaps my doctor should hook up with my knee surgeon and they can kill two birds with one drop of a narcotic-loaded plunger.

what the associated press had to say about this happening: and what troy had to say:

as people moved through this traveling museum looking in on some of the most terrifying of human moments and while paying homage to the craftsmen who have devoted their lives, occasionally literally, to capturing these unique and momentary events, you'd think, you would just think for a moment that out of respect of this event and those trying to experience it, you could turn your fricken cell phone off for 60 minutes. or hows about a compromise and we just say set it to vibrate you self-absorbed hard-on(s).

walt and i watched one of those home shows on the tele last weekend. they were discussing the new age of luxury homes. the encouraging news; we're seeing a departure from the behemoth stone-faced mansions of yesteryear for more intimate, better crafted domiciles. more intimate meaning a 12,000 square foot hovel, complete with the requisite half-court basketball and golf facility in the basement.

i wasn't sweating what we didn't have until one feature was discussed. it seems that what you and i knew as a study while growing up is now known as a knowledge nook. and it seems quite important that these cerebral crannies be 'acoustically open so kids are able to chat with mom and dad if need be'.

a flood of explanation washed over marty and i. in our defense, how were we to know we'd fail as parents without an acoustically open knowledge nook?