Monday November 26 2012


☼ ○ ▬

At an airport. I follow a group of people understood to be on the same flight as me. We locate a foyer room at the end of the concourse. The moving escalators are in reverse with the stairs moving upward and we can’t climb down. Even the elevators are out of whack. They’ve closed off this sector I suppose but why wouldn’t they just lock the doors rather than allow all this mumbo jumbo. We’re all confused.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up at 11:08 a.m.

Instant Blueberry Oatmeal. Orange Juice. Zinc (50 mg).

All day shift at China Wok.

The weather is absolutely lovely, cold enough to wear a thin jacket but warm enough to ride with the windows down.

Delivering an order to a semi-wealthy house on Caton Drive near the hospital. A mother/wife comes to the door to sign the receipt. She asks in a mild Russian accent, “Can I put tip on here?”

“Yes, of course,” I answer.

She scribbles in a $6 tip and thanks me with a smile. I walk away and try to imagine her story. Probably about ten years ago she comes to Virginia Beach from Russia to work for the summer. She meets a charming businessman in a bar at the oceanfront. They fall in love, get married, have kids, and move into this big house. She must be a happy and grateful Russian woman.

Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Maui Onion Kettle Cooked Chips with Avocado and Salsa.

The last half of the afternoon is dreadfully slow. But thankfully I brought my laptop to work today to keep myself busy with research and Facebook.

Evening deliveries.

Bosc Pear.

It’s slow.

Vegetable Lo Mein.

Off work.

Elliott invited me for a Rick’s night out. Leslie reached out to me so she also joins. I hop myself up on Coffee. Elliott writes out his dinner options on a napkin to help him decide what to eat. After helping him through it he ends up going for the usual (the comfort zone food).

James walks in to join us. We notice his freshly shaved mustache and side burns.

Elliott: “If I had just met you, like at a Wawa or something, my first impression of you would not be who I think you are right now.”

James: “What would be your first impression of me?”

Elliott: “I don’t know. Like if you came up and spoke to me and I didn’t know who you were I would probably think you’re a hard ass.”

Me: “Yeah! I would too actually.”

Leslie: “I would not!”

James: “Really? What would you think?”

Leslie: “I’d think you’d just finished fishing or something.”


James: “I feel like meeting Robert as a stranger would be the same as meeting him everyday.”


James: “I feel like I’d have the same feelings and/or emotions.”


Everybody’s food comes out. Elliott receives his plate of a grilled cheese sandwich with tater tots and mac n cheese.

I comment, “Dude, starch meal of the century!”


Talking about communication on Facebook and the internet in general...

Me: “There’s a certain amount of etiquette that people have. Everyone’s etiquette differs.”

Elliott: “Some people have bad etiquette. I don’t know it’s pretty funny.”

Me: “It’s just so interesting to me. You got to think about it, like the internet’s not very old. Like, it happened while we were kids. The internet showed up out of nowhere. We’re still a part of the generation that’s being acclimated to internet behavior. We’re learning how to be cyber kids.”

James says something in the style of a valley girl voice, “I’ve got that part covered,” and kind of sings the last word.

Me: “What are we in Clueless right now? If they remade Clueless and instead of starring high school girls they starred—”

James: “Us?”

Everyone chuckles.

Me: “—middle-aged men what would it be called?”

Leslie: “Dumb and Dumber.”


Eventually, the discussion migrates to the topic of flatulence and the many ways you can produce flatulence with your body. James of course is an expert and we come up with at least ten different techniques. We’re the only customers in Rick’s at this point so we don’t hold back with the fart noises. It’s endless laughter and nonsense.

Elliott attempts to make the sounds on his arm with his mouth. Instead he sprays a little bit of spit in the air.

Leslie: “Say it. Don’t spray it!”  

Me: “Hey! Flatulate it. Don’t extrapolate it!”


Me: “Dude, you sound like a frog farting under water!”

James explains that when he gets back to the house he’s going to try the back-to-floor fart and give a raspberry to either Anthony or Kevin.

James: “But who’s gonna let me?”

Me: “Anthony won’t. But Kevin definitely will.”

James: “I feel like his belly would be smelly.”


Back at the house. Leslie and I compile the doodle artifacts of the night. We finish filling in the line graph that follows Elliott and I’s hangout time throughout an average year. I use the blog to see how often Elliott is involved in my life. Turns out August and December were the most popular months for us.


Leslie and I rev ourselves up in conversation – talking about circadian rhythms – our eating patterns – our sleeping patterns – the importance of nutrition education and resourcefulness. She claims she talks too much but I find myself, when around her, talking too much as well. After 3:30 a.m. she leaves.

Sleep around 4:30 a.m.

[i] All doodles drawn by Leslie.

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