Monday, April 11, 2005
Karoliina and I have made a pact. We will try our hardest not to notice any news regarding the results of American Idol. This is a pact proving hard to keep. I really do try not to read anything about the results, but sometimes it is simply unavoidable. And this makes the results edition that comes on Sunday a little less tense.
I've got a ton of work to do right now and so I won't be posting too much info. But here is the latest edition to my J-town Journal column: I've embellished just about everything, so don't read too much into any of it.
The great melting is upon us. It’s time to get back to the gym, to clean the house, to plant some flowers. It is time to celebrate, to renew those New Year’s resolutions that proved just too damn difficult to resolve, what with the darkness and the bitter cold and all the good television on the tube. The great melting is upon us and it is time to put away the long underwear and the earmuffs and to take out the shorts and sleeping masks and mosquito repellent. It is time to bring in the case of beer from the balcony and to make room for it in the fruit and vegetable drawers of the refrigerator. Hot damn it’s getting hot outside and I for one couldn’t be happier. I think I’ll throw a party.
I haven’t had a good party in a while, but when I do have another one, I will be a little smarter about it all. For example, I will not tell people to arrive at 7 o’clock because, without fail, they will arrive at 7 o’clock. Sure, I told them 7:00, but who the hell arrives at 7:00? There are some places in the world where a 7:00 start time for a party means that the party will start at around 9:00, so it is safe to arrive anytime close to 9. In J-town, 7:00 means 7:00, maybe 7:03 for the image conscious.
It could very well have been a misunderstanding and it could very well have been my own fault. After all, I did say, “Come at seven or so.” It’s the “or so” that’s important here, because – at least in my head – “or so” means 8:00 or 8:30, even 9 o’clock. But in J-town, “or so” means absolutely nothing. How was I supposed to know that if you say something here, people think that you mean it? I had just come from New York City, where 7:00 means close to midnight the next day, and unless you were cooking a soufflé and told people you were cooking a soufflé, you could expect a couple of hours of free time before the party got started. So party at my house, but don’t nobody be arriving any earlier than 9:00.
The great melting is upon us and I think it’s time to get back into shape. I think I’ll start playing basketball again with the guys, but this time I will be a little smarter about it all. For example, I will never slap a Finnish man on the ass, no matter what. I don’t care if we just won the game, or had the best play ever seen on a basketball court, my hand will not come anywhere near the butt-cheek of a Finnish man, so help me God. Now, back home? Sure, I’m an ass-slapping son of a bitch. It just comes with the territory. You make a great play, or have a good game; you get your ass slapped. It’s an accepted celebratory custom. I’m not talking about grabbing another dudes butt or anything, just a quick slap to let them know that they’ve done well. Let’s just say that, similar to “or so” the ass slap just doesn’t translate here in J-town. And let’s just say that I got the message the first time out.
The great melting is upon us, and this time I am not going to pass out at 5pm on Vappu. This time I am going to be a little smarter about it. This time I am going to start slow and work my way up to the point where I can join the dozens of teenagers throwing up on the street corners, but at the appropriate time. This time I will not sit outside with one half of my face in the sun sipping on that drink of champions, Jaloviina. This time I will not get so drunk that riding my bicycle home through the trails and eating that tortilla wrap kebab thing that only is available when the great melting is upon us could end my life. This time I am going to do it right. This time I am ready for it.
I've got a ton of work to do right now and so I won't be posting too much info. But here is the latest edition to my J-town Journal column: I've embellished just about everything, so don't read too much into any of it.
The great melting is upon us. It’s time to get back to the gym, to clean the house, to plant some flowers. It is time to celebrate, to renew those New Year’s resolutions that proved just too damn difficult to resolve, what with the darkness and the bitter cold and all the good television on the tube. The great melting is upon us and it is time to put away the long underwear and the earmuffs and to take out the shorts and sleeping masks and mosquito repellent. It is time to bring in the case of beer from the balcony and to make room for it in the fruit and vegetable drawers of the refrigerator. Hot damn it’s getting hot outside and I for one couldn’t be happier. I think I’ll throw a party.
I haven’t had a good party in a while, but when I do have another one, I will be a little smarter about it all. For example, I will not tell people to arrive at 7 o’clock because, without fail, they will arrive at 7 o’clock. Sure, I told them 7:00, but who the hell arrives at 7:00? There are some places in the world where a 7:00 start time for a party means that the party will start at around 9:00, so it is safe to arrive anytime close to 9. In J-town, 7:00 means 7:00, maybe 7:03 for the image conscious.
It could very well have been a misunderstanding and it could very well have been my own fault. After all, I did say, “Come at seven or so.” It’s the “or so” that’s important here, because – at least in my head – “or so” means 8:00 or 8:30, even 9 o’clock. But in J-town, “or so” means absolutely nothing. How was I supposed to know that if you say something here, people think that you mean it? I had just come from New York City, where 7:00 means close to midnight the next day, and unless you were cooking a soufflé and told people you were cooking a soufflé, you could expect a couple of hours of free time before the party got started. So party at my house, but don’t nobody be arriving any earlier than 9:00.
The great melting is upon us and I think it’s time to get back into shape. I think I’ll start playing basketball again with the guys, but this time I will be a little smarter about it all. For example, I will never slap a Finnish man on the ass, no matter what. I don’t care if we just won the game, or had the best play ever seen on a basketball court, my hand will not come anywhere near the butt-cheek of a Finnish man, so help me God. Now, back home? Sure, I’m an ass-slapping son of a bitch. It just comes with the territory. You make a great play, or have a good game; you get your ass slapped. It’s an accepted celebratory custom. I’m not talking about grabbing another dudes butt or anything, just a quick slap to let them know that they’ve done well. Let’s just say that, similar to “or so” the ass slap just doesn’t translate here in J-town. And let’s just say that I got the message the first time out.
The great melting is upon us, and this time I am not going to pass out at 5pm on Vappu. This time I am going to be a little smarter about it. This time I am going to start slow and work my way up to the point where I can join the dozens of teenagers throwing up on the street corners, but at the appropriate time. This time I will not sit outside with one half of my face in the sun sipping on that drink of champions, Jaloviina. This time I will not get so drunk that riding my bicycle home through the trails and eating that tortilla wrap kebab thing that only is available when the great melting is upon us could end my life. This time I am going to do it right. This time I am ready for it.
// posted by Howard @ 1:48 PM 
