Second Effort

When I got to work this morning, I sent a message out to about 20 or so people expressing my sentiments on the day and week ahead. It said, very simply:

I fucking hate monday. Any Thoughts?

tb

Here’s a random sampling of the replies I have received thus far along with some background on each.

1. Tipton Edition
I don’t mind them when our teams haven’t been in action all over the nation. Why so sour? Are you a Houston Texans fan or a Cyclone fan? Missy led the varsity with 17 points at CC-Amana on Tuesday. Ashley had 21 against Wilton and Alicia had 11 (both Ashley and Alicia had three three-pointers). Schroeder really helps the team. I wonder how Stonebreaker’s Monday is going? Probably not too stressed out.

Explication: This thought came from a Tipton Dad who assisted me greatly in my time there. His daughters, Ashley and Missy, are the best athletes I’ve had the pleasure of covering to this point in my career. Stonebreaker is my replacement. He has not been very well received in his 6 months there, which always make me feel good.

2. Hey Jealousy
Mondays do suck when you have to go to work.  Someone called this morning early, undoubtably wanting a sub.  But I was going to do some other things, like figure out the next chapter of my book and organize my CD’s.  So Amanda is back at work after a long weekend, and I’m rather enjoying the time trying to figure this stuff out.

Christmasfest VI: New Years Eve Bashorama will be held at my house this Dec. 31st.  It will be a swanky dress party with good things.  Please acknowledged that you have been so advised.

Explication: This one comes from TDR, former roommate and war veteran. He is in a transition phase right now, avoiding working for a living as a substitute teacher by writing books and preparing for his next endeavor: a young adult fiction Master’s program through some college on the East coast. He always throws Halloween and Christmas parties. The last time I went to one of his Christmas parties he talked me into taking “The Tour”; doing a shot out of each of his shot glasses from around the country and world. At the time it was 21 shots. As far as I know, I am one of only two to survive this endeavor, though I did make out with a dude for 180 bucks after doing about 12 of the shots and had to pull over three times on the way home the next morning to puke on 380.

3. A rare Sappbot sighting
Bah, I hear you man.  I’m creating a sappy blog post that’s how bad this one is.

Explication: This should be interesting. I am far more renowned for Sappy posts than Mattbot. He is more widely respected as the sarcasm and sandwich recipe king.

4. Blind as a Duck
I HAVE LOTS OF THOUGHTS ON MONDAYS, YOU AND I SEEM TO AGREE ON THE SUBJECT.  I WOULD RATHER HAVE MY SACK SLIT AND MY LEG STUCK THROUGH IT THAN COMING IN ON A MONDAY.

Explication: My uncle Drake is a true wordsmith. And, like many old farts, types only in all caps so he can see, and ignore, his typos.

5. The Inexplicable
Hmmm. I am in the unique position not to really give a shit. It is 11:03 and I just got out of the shower and I am going to head into work at noon, though no one would care if I showed up later.

But instead of rubbing that in your face, I do only have a week to produce a 20 page paper so I can graduate…I also have to create a professional presentation over this paper I haven’t written for next Tuesday. Not an impossible task, but I will be spending a large some of money at coffee shops with a wifi connection over the next couple of days.

InExplication: I can’t put Whitaker’s life into words, only he can do that. For the latest update check out his blog, The Peculiar Life, linked in the links field on the right.

6. From my sack of turkey shit (bride)
My day is going really well. Just a few people in here, but otherwise it’s really quiet. I’ve also been kind of busy. Had to go see Christie Vilsack this morning and so that took up some time. It was a pretty easy, enjoyable assignment, so no problem there.

I’m assuming you hate today because all of the winter sports shit is really hitting the fan. I know how busy this time of the year is for you. I’m sorry. I know you can do it and I know you can do it really well.

I hope your day starts to look up. I love you. I had a good Thanksgiving with you. I’m looking forward to Christmas (even though it’s going to be a clusterfuck).

Explication: Nothing brightens my day like a note from the wife. Especially when she is in a decent mood and still understands my sentiments on both Monday, and the planning of holiday get-togethers. There’s really not a whole post to go with this anecdote, so I’ll just insert it here. Saturday night Sara and I had a rare night out and braved the Webster City theatre for the new Harry Potter movie. Yes, I watch and enjoy the Harry Potter movies. But that’s not the funny part. After moving a few rows two minutes into the movie to get away from some little WC hoodlums, we were treated to the newest rage in athletics…greasy aisle racing. This, no exaggeration, 200 pound third grader must have made 50 laps around the theatre in the course of the two and a half hour movie. When Sara proposed an “accidental” tripping, I said no. It was clearly in this kid’s best interest to keep his heart rate up for a sustained period of time. I thought so until the movie was over and the lights went up. It seems that on each of his 50 laps, he was heading for the concession stand, this kid had four empty popcorn buckets, five drinks and who knows how many candy wrappers. He must have spent 300 dollars on concessions that night. Sara and I had a Dr. Pepper and I smuggled some White Castle burgers in.

7. The feeble attempt at empathy
No fucking kidding.  And Monday sucks even more when you spent all of Saturday and Sunday working.  And my alarm didn’t go off this morning, so I’m still working on a funky combination of not-enough-coffee, but also som left-over adrenaline from thinking I started the day behind schedule!   What’s up with you?

Oh, and I leave for NYC tomorrow at noon for a whirlwind 36 hour
trip…get ready for a little chaos.

Explication: Maggie is interviewing for a job in New York this week and thinks we are in the same boat. Dear Maggie, I love you, but you suck. A lot.

8. Tipton really hates Iowa State
Yea, I have a thought. It’s always a great Monday when the Cyclones lose. It’s an even better Monday when they lose in overtime. But, it’s even better when they don’t claim that weak north crown. And…it’s even better when they fall out of the Top 25. Yes, this is a good Monday. Go Hawks. Cyclones suck. Have a nice day Mr. T.

Explication: From the old boss. Two Tipton replies, two shots at the clones. It isn’t hard to understand why I liked working in that town.

9. Breano and Sluts Edition
You just hate this Monday because it’s the Monday after Thanksgiving. I’ll have to admit, after my weeklong education reprieve, I’m beginning to hate Mondays.

Since your wedding it seems the marriage bug has been going around. First Brean, now my older sister. HOLY SHIT – an Andresen slut is finally getting hitched!

Miss you…maybe we can get together in the WC during my FIVE WEEK LONG BREAK! Ha ha!

Explication: Kelli A takes the opportunity to kick a guy while he’s down. And yes, Breano is getting married. That’s a whole different post.

10. To the point
I agree

Explication: Mike Loveless has always been a man of very few words. And for once, he spelled both of them right.

OK, it’s noon. I’m going to slap this bastard up on the blog and try to do some work now. Feel free to post your own Monday sentiments and/or explication in the comments.

I sometimes have to explain to people what my job is. Admittedly, the title doesn’t exactly tell the story. I basically do all the reporting, writing, a lot of the photography and all of the editing of a 2-3 page sports section printed twice a week. I also have to bend over and take it in the ass on occasion. Like today, for example.

Ah, the changing of the seasons. The above picture is one I took a little while ago because no one in the news department was available. They think that because I currently don’t have to go to games every night of the week I must be hankering for some work to do. Hankering is a word I use far too little. No one seems to realize that I have another 24-page special section coming out next week and no time to work on it. So, in the 20 minutes I would usually use to have a sandwich or take a shit while waiting for the composition department to finish my sports pages, I went out and endangered my life on the snowy central Iowa roadways to get a picture that likely will never see print. I thought it deserved a viewer or two.

See, I’m posting more often already! By the way, I’ve had over a hundred hits today and something like three comments. Where are your happy wedding memories? Come on fuckers, keep the blog alive!

My new wife told me the other day that she thought my blog was officially defunct. At the wedding, an occasion that I might argue was the biggest of my life, guests were constantly harassing me about the lack of posts in between scarfing down six-dollar cupcakes. I am a married man, I have responsibilities, I must rectify this situation.

Speaking of responsibilities, this post may well just be a diversion from what I am supposed to be doing right now, composing thank you notes. Its funny, and I think this is as telling as any detail about the actual wedding, but when it was all over and Sara and I were on our way to Mexico, I remember telling her that I was actually looking forward to all the thank yous. We had such a good time, I have so many good thoughts about every person there, that I really do like sitting down and thinking back to that day.

Yes, it truly was the The Perfect Day, described there by my cousin Alyssa. Also available on the net are this post by the incomparable mattbot, who discovered half his blog’s readership is Polish on that fateful day. He later posted additional eye candy from the day in question. Then there was Sheala’s post, in which she pretended not to swoon over Matt more than talk about the wedding.

While I’m getting link happy here, you’ll notice two newbies on the right hand side of this page. The first being Pete in Iraq, a link to another blogger site that has been giving us a little insight into what’s going on with Sara’s brother in the middle east. Apparently some old British dudes are embedded with them, at least through the next month, making a documentary. The site has been a big comfort through this first month. Also new is Delightful Ambiguity, Katy Kelley’s blog. Katy is a fellow UNI grad who I somehow missed in my time in Cedar Falls, but met for the first time last year when Sara and I traveled to Chicago as she is a former volunteer for my mom at Hospice. Her posts are excellent, fun and honest, three prerequisites of my respect. And yet, Robert remains a regular feature in my links field.

But back to the wedding. I should have been carrying a notebook to mark down the most important details for this forum. I could rehash how perfectly everything went, but that’s not much fun. Suffice to say, I cried a lot, and not because anything went wrong. Starting with the morning of the event, these are some of the highlights.

7 a.m.—Show up to decorate. While hanging decorative leaf things over the fireplace in the lodge, I fall and hurt my back and scrape up my fingers about ten minutes into the process. I ignore this for the rest of the day, and honestly, it was the only really bad thing I remember happening.

8 a.m.—I am feeling nerves, but OK. While mom and I proceed to set out napkins on the table for dinner, Sara’s Aunt points out that we are folding the paper napkins the wrong way. Mom gives up folding, I ignore the Aunt and make sure I fold each napkin differently from that point on. She follows three feet behind me and refolds each napkin, at some point calling Sara’s great Aunt to refer to an etiquette book, affirming her righteousness. Sara’s mom and I prepare to blow a gasket.

10 a.m.—Gasket blown. After getting everything pretty much ready, there are complications with the sound system and the floating candle things. The water turned yellow in the floating candle things. Everyone stand around and wonders what to do. I grab dad’s keys and walk out, when asked what I am doing I turn around and yell, “I’m going to go buy 12 fucking gallons of water.” No one seems to understand my anxiousness, but Drake makes a call and Aunt Cathy fills in admirably on the water buying front.

11 a.m.—I report to the hotel shower and after dressing, try to suck down as many cigarettes as possible. Dad presents me with my gift from Sara, an iPod. I listen to “Happiness is a warm Gun,” for my first song. It fucking rocks. Mom later discovers a run in her stockings that seemingly was going to end the world, but again, the Muellers step up as Alyssa buys some and has them waiting for mom at the lodge.

12 p.m.—We all report for photo duty. While Sara puts on “The Dress,” the guys do their poses with me, and shockingly the entire photography part isn’t a huge pain in the ass. One of the best parts of the day was seeing Sara, who looked amazing, for the first time. I had to hide around the corner and wait for a cue from the photographer. While you’re keenly aware of the cameras pointed at you and bets being placed on who will cry more, it really is a special couple minutes. And shockingly, Sara did cry more. So much for stone face Konrad, she has been usurped by Blubbering Baran.

2 p.m.—I get slightly pissed when grandparents are not in attendance at the prescribed time for photos. They show up and when Dad sees me stalking over to yell at them, he wisely cuts me off.

3 p.m.—Away we go. I have to make five laps to start the ceremony, seating each of three grandmothers and the two mothers on my own. I thank god it’s 65 degrees and not 75, you would have seen salt stains through my tux. Jack and I report to our spots and the rest of the processional gets rolling. Maybe one of my favorite memories of the day is right here. As I watch the Drake walk Maggie up th aisle, I look out toward the parking lot. There, visible only to me, as far as I know, is Mike Cumming’s goofy ass sprinting across the lawk with his tie flying back over his shoulder in the breeze and a large gift under his arms. Those that know my well know that I get downright pissed at people for being late to just about anything, but this was just too appropriate. Another funny note on the timing: my former boss from Tipton told me that he had arrived on time, but had the wedding start time mixed up with the Hawkeye game kickoff.

3:24 p.m. — Sara looks at me, surprisingly shocked, when Long John Silvers and the sharing of hush puppies comes up in my written vows. Also, anyone with a heart cries.

I did take a little shit for the length of both my vows and my toast/speech, but as you can tell from the length of this post, I’m not big on leaving out the things I believe to be important. I will refrain from stretching this out much further, though, and ask that those who attended post their favorite momories from the wedding.

At the reception there were good and heartfelt speeches, barely enough beer, insane children and some nice dance numbers. Sara and I christened our love to Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire,” which may well make us the coolest bride and groom ever. No Celine Dion bullshit in this marriage.

The blogging convention at our wedding reception

I know no one is looking for wedding night details, except maybe Cummings who is just pathetic enough to enjoy that sort of thing, but Sara tells me that on our wedding night I did the most romatic thing she could have dreamt. I held in my farts.

The first thing that went wrong on our whole wedding fiasco was the morning after when it was discovered the offical present opening room had been double booked. I left a message on the manager’s cell phone that I’m quite certain could have put me behind bards for harassment, but things work out as about 30 of our friends and family clogged the Quality Inn lobby for a couple hours while Sara and I unwrapped all the shit that remains piled in our living room to this day.

Mexico was simply outstanding. We managed to hit the week after Hurrican Stan and before that big one that apparently had people shitting in garbage cans for a couple weeks while waiting for the Cancun airport to reopen. The weather was perfect for us, I developed a new affinity for tequila shooters with a beer chaser and gained an unprecedented 10 pounds in one week. The only drawbacks were I didn’t get my picture taken with the resort monkey and we both had killer sunburns that still have me scratching my armpits 50-90 times a day.

My parents gave a kick ass digital camera to document the honeymoon, and while Sara made me delete all the ones of her sunbathing topless, we do have an abundance of good shots that I will try to post soon.

When she saw this piture and realized how hot she is, she immediately asked for a divorce.

On the blogging front. I feel like I used to when I got behind in a class. Is it even worth going on with this charade? Just like back then, I need support from you, the fools who believe in me, to carry on.