A while back the leasing office started advertising a “breakfast on the go” event for this week. It sounded great and the time included when I normally leave for work; unlike most events, I planned to avail myself of it (this was assisted by the placement of the ad above my mailbox). The night before it was supposed to take place, I even bragged to Rachel that my cereal and yogurt would be supplemented with free goodies the following morning.
I imagined that there would be some kind of a table set up, with the people I knew from the leasing office handing things out. Whether some kind of bright sign or banner, balloons, or friendly faces, it was clearly going to be recognizable.
That morning, I stumbled out of the house in my typical morning daze. Not seeing anything matching my concept of the event, I promptly forgot about it. As I prepared to turn onto my street, a dour fellow guarding a lime green laundry basket approached my car with a nondescript item in hand.
“What are blasted pamphleteers doing in my parking lot?” I fumed to myself, pointedly ignoring him. “You’d think they’d have better things to do this early in the morning.” Only when I was halfway down the street did the realization occur: that guy had been handing out the free breakfast and I completely missed it. Shortcomings in the event itself aside, I had such a clear pattern going in that I was unable to adapt my construct to match the real situation, and lost out as a consequence.
Speaking of questionable male figures, when I worked at the stables I knew people who looked just like this guy, only instead of shopping at farmer’s markets they slept with underage girls in the back of horse trailers… His look is probably the visual definition of hick, but the joke’s on you because he’s the one Summer Glau sleeps with at night.
Think on that, fanboy.
Was it good for you, too?
Good job missing the free breakfast there chief. Hopefully you got some the other days?
Also, luckiest hick in the world.
It was just that one day, so I failed.
OH COME ON. I AM TWICE AS RACIST AS THAT HICK AND SUMMER GLAU WON’T EVEN COME NEAR ME. BULLSHIT.
Also, your listening to column shows that you’re listening to the new Coheed album. Good job.
Your strategy of approaching her by night while breathing heavily might have something to do with it, too.
It’s a good album, I’ve been enjoying it. Have you tried reading any of the comic books?
Let me tell you something. I have almost all of the Coheed comics. As a fan, I can not recommend them. Notice that I did not say “I can not recommend them enough”, I said “I can not recommend them”. They are not very good.
There is a book that came with my deluxe edition of the album. I am hesitant to read it as well. You tell me about Scotty Boy Pilgrim and I’ll inform you of Year of the Black Rainbow: The Book’s status.
You know how everybody is “writing a book” about the epic story in their head? It rarely comes out well because of the internal feedback loop that makes the would-be author think it’s super-awesome.
The comic book I read felt kind of like that, especially given thesordid history of the series. I think I like the idea that there is a narrative tying all of the albums together more than what I’ve experienced of the narrative itself.