The Liquid Kosmos

To Buy or Not To Buy?

As most of you know, I was a little steamed yesterday, but that is nothing compared to the confusion that rests behind my eyes this evening. So, do I buy the loft or keep the cushion available for some unforseen dream chase? Let's see if we can figure it out.

First of all, I feel a little uneasy about the future of my job. Corporate cut-backs loom and our station is going through some rough times. It would be easy to point collective of fingers right down my throat. I'm the "Marketing guy," blame me...but the truth is, marketing local news in this day and age is tricky...there are so many other options... I just think it's a matter of time before I figure out what will be the best way to take us, then it will be full steam ahead into the new frontier of television news.

Then again, on a rare occasion marketing has saved crapola from a dismal place in Big Lots' hell, but for the most part we know it all comes back to the product. Right? Don't we? I think it does...doesn't it?

See! That's what I mean. Completely confusing. And on top of that I have about 6 people blowing up my phone tonight... all wanting me to "go out for sushi and a couple of drinks" because it's a friend's birthday. Well, call me callous, but I'm sick of going out for sushi and a couple of drinks and wouldn't even do it if it was MY birthday, so I guess that is ok. Right?

I'm trying to write. Sort my shit out and there is always a tenacious flow of temptation shovelled in my direction. Hey, got backstage tickets to the Richard Marx show tonight. Let's head down to the honky tonks for the Maxim Girl party. Dude, my cousin is coming in town with three smokin' hot chicks. We need a third to "entertain" them and you're the man. Whatever. I'm tired of it. Nothing is sexier than my mind, so walk your way down to the souls of promise and wallow in the pending rejection.

Yes, my landlord/good friend Lisa (and Billy) and I share the same mailbox and yesterday she found a surprise for me. A soft-core porn mag stuffed up in that motha. As you can imagine I was stunned to find it addressed to me (so many things stun me these days).

I assured her that I would never order such a magazine (for the record it was "Stuff) and she just kind of chuckled and told me the real funny part of the story.

After she noticed the magazine she wasn't sure if she should deliver it to me or leave it in the box. Well (after a brief "rights of privacy" power point by Billy- a very honest man) she decided it was best left alone for my slimy mitts to uncover. But, just after she tucked it back away, she noticed one of our lesbian neighbors walking down the street, stuffing mailboxes with the neighborhood "safety meeting flyers."

Lisa faced another dilemma and found herself racing back to the infamous mailbox and tactfully leaning against it, much like I would when someone wanted to use my computer and I was fearful of the "elicite activities" discovery they would make.

Anyway, I guess that's not that funny, but I think if I would have told it like I did yesterday (before all of my fucking words got deleted by the impatient Internet timing police) you might have actually laughed.

The whole thing makes me want to start sending Penthouse to my married friends. A year subscription can't be more than $20 and that is a small price to pay for the fireworks a move like that would ignite.

Seriously, though, THIS is funny. I just remembered a story (hopefully as well as I did yesterday before those damn Internet....) about the singer from my old band (which is recording another record this June under an assumed name so we can surprise people or something, but the truth is no one ever knew us in the first place, so a new name seems like a futile waste of time, energy, and money. Just think how much a new logo will cost. You have to change all the banners, drum heads, and reserve a new domain. Fuck it.) who was sick for three days one time and all he did was sit in front of the tv and call every 800 # offering a free sample or try out or whatever it was and had them all sent to a friend's house. He made hundreds of phone calls and our unsuspecting friend was plastered with mail.

About three weeks later the singer stopped by the house and EVERY SINGLE THING HE ORDERED was stacked up on the kitchen table. The receiver of the merchandise was baffled. He's not so smart. But I thought it was funny. (I wrote that better yesterday too).

Anyway... I still have no clue as to whether or not I will buy this loft. Thanks for the help asshole.

posted by The Oscillator @ 8:00 PM