Month: August 2005

Let the minimally researched September Beans for Breakfast print calendar guide you through the coming month:
Letter Size
A4 Format

I was heading down Pine Street earlier. The setting sun was shining through the car windshield, blinding me. I reached overhead to flip the sun visor down and a little bag of pot slipped out — another surprise left behind by the car thieves back in April.

Today is International Backup Your Data Day. I just made it up (again). That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. All you have to do is believe in it (and copy some files over) and it will be so.

Bagger (looking at my tshirt (from North Shore Shirts)): “What does B.F.B. stand for?”
Me: “Beans for Breakfast.”
Cashier: “Debit or credit?”
Bagger: “Is that a blog?”
Me: “Debit and, uh, yes.”
Cashier: “Do you want any cash back?”
Bagger: “Do you write that blog?”
Me: “Could I have $20 and yes, that’s me.”
Cashier: “Of course.”
Bagger: “Really? Didn’t you write about [Japanese word]?”
Me: “What?”
Bagger: “Wasn’t it a contest? It’s this Japanese food that has strawberry and it’s ground up and…”
Cashier (clears throat and points at debit card reader which is prompting me for a PIN.)
Me: “Oh. Sorry.” (I type in my PIN.) “Um, I don’t remember that.”
Bagger: “Am I just totally confusing you?”
Me: “Yeah.”
Cashier (points again at the debit card reader which is prompting me to approve the total.)
Bagger: “I must have seen it somewhere else. I’ll email a link to you. Are you going to blog about this?”
Me: “Sure.”

“I used to be a model. That was back in ’81 and people still recognize this face,” he points at his own face, “though I didn’t have a mustache then.”

Two of the apartments on my floor recently changed hands, so I have new neighbors. I ran into one over the weekend. He was emptying his mailbox which was packed with junk mail. He said that he’s lived in the building before. I remembered him sort of and told him that, leaving off the sort of. He moved out shortly after I moved in. A small collection of horse figurines has started to collect outside his door. This seems to be an inside joke.

The other neighbor moved in across the hall sometime in the last week. She carried her moving boxes out to the curb yesterday while I was hauling out the recycling bins. This involved several trips back and forth down the length of the hallway, and her wooden-soled sandles made clip-clop noises against the cement floor.