Thursday, November 01, 2007

The bane of my existence, still in its box

Lemme tell you a story about my living room furniture.

The first full day I was in my new place, the furniture store delivered a whole bunch of stuff. What I didn't buy at the furniture store was an entertainment center, coffee table or end table because I figured I could get them on the cheap somewhere.

I found what I wanted, but the store where I was looking only had two of the three pieces -- they didn't have the coffee table. I wasn't 100 percent sold on a coffee table anyway, but my Mom was really all about it. She said that it would tie the room together. I didn't want to buy two of the pieces from one store and run the risk that the other store locations wouldn't have the coffee table.

Finally, after two days of calling around, we found that the store in Huntington had them. So, Mom and I piled in the Explorer and went an hour west to get all three pieces.

That Sunday night, the entertainment center (which now supports my totally excellent Man TV) and the end table were put together.

The coffee table?

Not so much. It's still in its box. Still resting against the wall.

My parents will be here Saturday. My sister and I are going to have to put this thing together tomorrow night or I know my Mom's going to want to do it Saturday. And she'll be somewhat disappointed that the coffee table I made her drive an hour for isn't being used.

I'm like Josh in the movie, "Haiku Tunnel." Josh is a temp who finally lands himself in a permanent job. All Josh has to do is transcribe and mail 17 "very important" letters from his boss, Bob. Josh quickly transcribes them and puts them in the envelopes, gets them stamped and ... just ... can't ... get ... it ... in the mail.

Josh finds every reason in the world to NOT put these letters in the mail. There's even a scene in the movie where he says, "I went ahead and did the expense reports now in case I wanted something easier to do later."

That's me with this coffee table. I've cleaned. I've done laundry. I've put together book cases. I've folded clothes. I've organized clothes. I've done everything BUT put this coffee table together.

And now it's crunch time.

So, my sister is going to get bribed with dinner, and then she's going to help me put this thing together. Unless I can find some movie I want to see, or some DVDs to rent or some other task that will prevent it from happening.

Unless I decide to alphabetize my socks. I've always wondered how I could do that.

Reader survey: She's Always a Woman

Up here at the office, we've become huge Billy Joel fans. We've all been listening to a lot of the Piano Man lately.

Sweet Ann was talking about one of the most beautiful love songs of all time -- "She's Always a Woman."

I think Sweet Ann's losing her Marble King marbles.

That is NOT a beautiful love song. Clearly, this guy is in love with a torturous woman. This song is about how she's a master of inflicting pain on this man who loves her, and no matter what anybody thinks about her, she's a woman, and she's his woman.

So, readers ... it's up to a vote.

Is "She's Always a Woman" a beautiful love ode, or is it a tragic, sad song about the woman you love that's eating your soul?

My newest obsession

Dear Santa,

Please get me a drum set for Christmas. My co-workers would much rather have me in my house beating on these than beating on my desk with chop sticks while I listen to the White Stripes or the Foo Fighters.

At night, Santa, I dream about having a drum set. In my dream, I'm wearing my Yoda t-shirt and ripped jeans and I'm part of a band. It's not a girl band ... it's a band with normal dudes but I'm their drummer.

When I was in Morgantown a few weeks ago, I met someone who said he was (among other things) a drummer, too. In a drunken state, he asked me to play some sort of pattern on his arm. I failed. Of course, my hands aren't sticks and his forearms aren't snares or toms and a lot of vodka had been spent between the two of us.

But, Santa, I think I'm ready to show the world my drumming prowess. You remember back in fifth grade when I wanted to join the band? I wanted to play drums, but my Mom and Dad weren't too key on having that kind of noise in the house. They directed me toward the clarinet. I pushed for the saxophone.

I still love my saxophone. I love the saxophone, the flute, the trumpet and the trombone I have in my basement. I could have a one man band ... I'm just missing the drums.

So, if you could see fit, I'd love a drum set for Christmas. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you I've been good this year, so if you could award me honesty points, I'd be grateful. I've not been good, just good at it. Whatever "it" is.

Thanks, Santa. You're pretty kick-ass.

Love,

Jacque Jo