#1: Attack of the killer cheese curds
I’ve had my big-girl job for about two months now and the thing I miss the most is writing. So after swiping the idea of an email newsletter from a friend of mine that many of you know – by one name or another – I’ve found a way to not only keep myself writing but also to keep my near and dear informed about what is going with me. You all can read it, delete it or print it out and use it to make paper airplanes. I don’t care.
Why “The Column” you ask? It’s a name my roommate Maverick suggested to shut me up. After many days of listening to me complain about how all the titles I came up with were crap, she finally suggested “Why not just The Column?” Ah, perfection in simplicity.
Life has been pretty good since graduation in May. I have a job working in the marketing and sales department at a company that provides quality training for manufacturers (sounds professional, huh?). I don’t really like it, it’s a lot of “enter this number into this column in this database,” but I am getting paid.
The most exciting thing I’ve done recently (besides start my own column) was to go to an all-day concert last weekend. On Sunday, you know, that day where it was over 90 degrees – in the shade. The concert was held at the racetrack. On the faaaaar end of the racetrack where there are no trees and the nearest drinking fountain is about a quarter of a mile away.
The BareNaked Ladies were headlining, so I persuaded Mav and Slayer to go early with me. There was no way *I* was going to get stuck in the back. I plan on getting my $40 dollars worth darn it! We arrived during the hottest part of the day, 1pm. BNL was not scheduled to play until 8pm.
We got a great patch of dried grass near the stage to pitch our blankets, lawn chairs and trashy magazines. Guys, you are totally missing out because sometimes there is just nothing better than sitting around with the girls learning who in Hollywood has gone under the knife and how many guys have hit on their girlfriend’s roommate (59 percent!). I don’t think there is a male-bonding equivalent to that.
But the wavy lines of heat rising from the ground and the dry cotton feeling in my mouth made it hard for me to concentrate on such stimulating material. The three of us discovered that the best way to combat the heat was to remain completely immobile. This made it hard to keep hydrated, since you either had to pay $3.00 for bottled water or choke down the nasty water from the afore-mentioned drinking fountains far, far away.
So we sat in the dead grass and watched the sweat bead off of each other, saying next to nothing, lest we waste precious moisture by opening our mouths.
There were other bands playing all day, mind you. I was just too lethargic to really pay any attention. They all started to sound the same at some point. That was probably the point at which all the colors started to swirl together, too.
At about 5:30, I started to get hungry, however, my stomach was already churning from the lack of water and sweltering conditions. So I engaged my critical thinking skills. What is the best food one can eat when one’s stomach is threatening to burst from one’s navel cavity just to escape the hellish heat? Why, deep-fried cheese of course. And to wash it down? Deep friend pastries! What luck – there was a cheese curd/mini-donut stand just a few steps away from our blanket. And so I had my dinner . . .
Two and a half hours later, my dinner-induced nausea had lessened just in time for BNL to grace the stage. As usual, they had the audience (many of which had only recently amassed, choosing to stay home until the cool of the evening – wimps) dancing with their first chord. And in true BNL fashion, the band made up songs about everything from Shakopee (where the concert was being held) to the “moon, moon, moony moon moon.”
Their part of the concert was much to short. I could have listened to them for several more hours. Of course, I also feel I was cheated out of an encore because BNL brought up a sucky singer from one of the previous bands to join them. Not only did she seem stoned out of her mind, but she also had to have a sheet with the words to the song in front of her. If you don’t know the words you shouldn’t be on stage! I didn’t know the words to that song and you didn’t see me up there pretending to be cool now did you? No, I didn’t think so!
The ride home was tired and sweaty. I didn’t even the have energy to yell at the guy in the SUV who cut me off after we finally made it out of the parking lot. I didn’t recover from the greasy food overdose until very early the next morning when my upstairs neighbor courteously dropped something very large, hollow and heavy onto the hardwood floor right above my bed.
So there you go folks. My very first Column. Keep it, it will be a collectors item some day. I’m open for comments/questions/Column ideas/ “take me off your mailing list” requests. Like I said, you can read it or not. This is really for me.
I do have to say thanks to “The College Years” for inspiration and Mav for the name.
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I’ve had my big-girl job for about two months now and the thing I miss the most is writing. So after swiping the idea of an email newsletter from a friend of mine that many of you know – by one name or another – I’ve found a way to not only keep myself writing but also to keep my near and dear informed about what is going with me. You all can read it, delete it or print it out and use it to make paper airplanes. I don’t care.
Why “The Column” you ask? It’s a name my roommate Maverick suggested to shut me up. After many days of listening to me complain about how all the titles I came up with were crap, she finally suggested “Why not just The Column?” Ah, perfection in simplicity.
Life has been pretty good since graduation in May. I have a job working in the marketing and sales department at a company that provides quality training for manufacturers (sounds professional, huh?). I don’t really like it, it’s a lot of “enter this number into this column in this database,” but I am getting paid.
The most exciting thing I’ve done recently (besides start my own column) was to go to an all-day concert last weekend. On Sunday, you know, that day where it was over 90 degrees – in the shade. The concert was held at the racetrack. On the faaaaar end of the racetrack where there are no trees and the nearest drinking fountain is about a quarter of a mile away.
The BareNaked Ladies were headlining, so I persuaded Mav and Slayer to go early with me. There was no way *I* was going to get stuck in the back. I plan on getting my $40 dollars worth darn it! We arrived during the hottest part of the day, 1pm. BNL was not scheduled to play until 8pm.
We got a great patch of dried grass near the stage to pitch our blankets, lawn chairs and trashy magazines. Guys, you are totally missing out because sometimes there is just nothing better than sitting around with the girls learning who in Hollywood has gone under the knife and how many guys have hit on their girlfriend’s roommate (59 percent!). I don’t think there is a male-bonding equivalent to that.
But the wavy lines of heat rising from the ground and the dry cotton feeling in my mouth made it hard for me to concentrate on such stimulating material. The three of us discovered that the best way to combat the heat was to remain completely immobile. This made it hard to keep hydrated, since you either had to pay $3.00 for bottled water or choke down the nasty water from the afore-mentioned drinking fountains far, far away.
So we sat in the dead grass and watched the sweat bead off of each other, saying next to nothing, lest we waste precious moisture by opening our mouths.
There were other bands playing all day, mind you. I was just too lethargic to really pay any attention. They all started to sound the same at some point. That was probably the point at which all the colors started to swirl together, too.
At about 5:30, I started to get hungry, however, my stomach was already churning from the lack of water and sweltering conditions. So I engaged my critical thinking skills. What is the best food one can eat when one’s stomach is threatening to burst from one’s navel cavity just to escape the hellish heat? Why, deep-fried cheese of course. And to wash it down? Deep friend pastries! What luck – there was a cheese curd/mini-donut stand just a few steps away from our blanket. And so I had my dinner . . .
Two and a half hours later, my dinner-induced nausea had lessened just in time for BNL to grace the stage. As usual, they had the audience (many of which had only recently amassed, choosing to stay home until the cool of the evening – wimps) dancing with their first chord. And in true BNL fashion, the band made up songs about everything from Shakopee (where the concert was being held) to the “moon, moon, moony moon moon.”
Their part of the concert was much to short. I could have listened to them for several more hours. Of course, I also feel I was cheated out of an encore because BNL brought up a sucky singer from one of the previous bands to join them. Not only did she seem stoned out of her mind, but she also had to have a sheet with the words to the song in front of her. If you don’t know the words you shouldn’t be on stage! I didn’t know the words to that song and you didn’t see me up there pretending to be cool now did you? No, I didn’t think so!
The ride home was tired and sweaty. I didn’t even the have energy to yell at the guy in the SUV who cut me off after we finally made it out of the parking lot. I didn’t recover from the greasy food overdose until very early the next morning when my upstairs neighbor courteously dropped something very large, hollow and heavy onto the hardwood floor right above my bed.
So there you go folks. My very first Column. Keep it, it will be a collectors item some day. I’m open for comments/questions/Column ideas/ “take me off your mailing list” requests. Like I said, you can read it or not. This is really for me.
I do have to say thanks to “The College Years” for inspiration and Mav for the name.
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posted by Sun at 1:48 PM
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