A Mysterious Disappearance of a Bottle of White Wine

I woke up this morning and could only find one (empty) bottle of red wine from last night.  I have no idea what happend to the Cabernet Sauvignon that was polished off as well.

I looked in the fridge, in the closet, under the bed, in the living room, behind the couch, on the dresser, in the sheets, garbage, and hall.


It simply is not there.

And that’s the story.  I can’t find an empty bottle of white wine when there is no plausible explanation for its disappearance.  Aren’t you glad you came here and read about this ridiculously lame occurence?

I’m not even glad to be writing about it but it’s on my mind and in my head just mocking me from its hiding place somewhere in that damn house.  I just know it.

I really want to be able to draw a beautiful woman, but all my figures come out distorted like people in Waking Life all wobbly and disproportioned.  Or they look like me and I (hopefully) look nothing like a woman.

In a related note, the Santa Fe Baking Company is flooded with beautiful women that I cannot draw.

The employees are starting to recognize me here because I’ve been coming so often.  They even know what I’m going to order so next time I come I’m going to order something different just so I’m not just another regular.   I never want to be a regular thanks to this Replacement’s song:

This version is just Paul Westerberg but it captures the mood pretty well of the mundanity of being another damn regular.  By the way, besides Rhymesayers, The Replacements are my favorite Minneapolis band.  We used to frequent the CC Club on Lyndale where the Replacements used to haunt in their debaucherous younger days.  Nowadays the CC is littered with hipsters who suck at pool and scoff at you for ordering anything other than their flavor of the week as you beat them at billiards.  And don’t even try to flirt with the waitresses if you don’t have a scruffy beard, worn leather boots, and a lumberjack coat with ironic patches that you sewed on yourself.  Dyed hair is usually also recommended for this oftentimes fruitless endeavor.

Oh, and don’t spark up a joint on New Years in the back smoking area unless you wanna pretend you didn’t know it was a j and that it wasn’t yours, it just got passed your way.  And if this does happen, for god’s sake, let the bouncer hit it to calm his burly ass down.

It’s overcast here in Santa and there’s a possibility of snow moving in, maybe thats why I’m on a Minneapolis tangent here.  Oh yeah, it began with the being a regular thing.

Here’s one of my favorite songs by the Replacement’s just because it’s hilarious while also being completely sincere:

Tomorrow who’s gonna fuss?  Such a great line.

In fact, Androgynous is a good way to describe the way all the people come out looking in my sketches.  Somona.

I’ve noticed that I’m becoming that guy with the pen tucked over the ear.  It’s becoming a natural habit after writing something down to slide it in.  I can’t decide if this is a good look for me or not, I’m already dorky looking with my glasses, wiry frame, and curly hair.  But then again, nerds are supposed to be in, aren’t they?

I better talk about something masculine now to get my rep up.  So how about Pitt taking it to UConn last night?  Hashim Thabeet just got worked and it wasn’t actually all that exciting of a game.  I flipped back and forth between that, Jeopardy, Two and a Half Men, PBS, and my Dylan Thomas book I picked up at the library’s book sale.

I didn’t get too deep into it thanks to my ever-increasing ADD.  I think being online so often with my job is screwing with my attention span.  I normally have at least five tabs running, along with music and my notebook to the side.  It’s amazing if I can sit and check out a single site for more than ten minutes at a time.

At Trader Joe’s yesterday, some old woman was telling her friend how Two-Buck-Chuck is three now.  Should they have to repeal that marketing scheme and naming rights if they are no longer charging it at two bucks?  I think so.   I still love it tho, even though the cab pulled that disappearing act on me last night.

There’s a cop ordering at the register, I wonder if they’re gonna hold the spit?

While I was jotting down random thoughts in my notebook last night, I became somewhat frustrated that my handwriting couldn’t keep pace with my thoughts.  Now that I am doing this (horrendous) blogging and can type fast enough to keep up with my thought stream, my notebook writing is suffering.  I’m going to have to make those writings more deliberate and focused if they are going to hold weight for me over time.

I’m always asking myself what I’m going to do with all those scribblings I’ve accumulated over the years.  Maybe once I hit the lotto and become famous some publisher will want to publish the ‘only authoritative version of one man’s rise from insurmountable debt to the forefront of charitable donations.’

…cuz I like to think that when I get rich, I will be the most innovative and creative charitable person in the history of charitable persons.


~ by garcialoca on February 17, 2009.

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