Fables & Reflections

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2005-10-13T18:09:00.000-07:00

Events of Monday October 3, 2005

Alarm goes off after a restless night. “Fuck!” is the first word the escapes my mouth and I pull myself out of bed. I feel like shit. Slam a breakfast bar and pop a couple of cold pills. Listen to some Bob and Tom and head to work.

Forklift glory.
I arrive at work and find that four techs have called in sick. Huh. This should be interesting. My day is spent fielding angry phone calls and working on my rental board (exciting stuff). After work I head home. Call Rachael and tell her that I’m going to be a bum tonight. My plan is to drink a ton of juice, watch some football/wrestling and go to bed early. Since I haven’t slept for shit lately I stop at Walmart and pick up some NyQuil. I love this stuff, always knocks me out. Except tonight.

I chug some feel good juice and hit the sack. Sadly, this is anti-NyQuil. My nose starts running like a damn faucet. I’m coughing and I’m not happy. Add to this that the medicine has made my body wicked tired. I heat up some milk hoping to knock myself out. Nodda. I’m awake and I’m miserable. Around 1am I start swearing quite loudly. I give up and decide to watch some television. History channel tells me that Hitler was a bad guy and Sports Center tells me that the Packers suck. 2am. I return to bed. Still can’t sleep. Around the 4am mark I’ve decided to call into work. I’m out of sick days but there’s no way in Hell I’m dealing with forklift crap feeling like this. I call in around 5am.

Fucking NyQuil.

Less than fun

2005-10-13T18:07:00.000-07:00

Events of Tuesday, October 4th

So I’m sick.

I roll out of bed around 10am and take the world’s longest shower. Crash on the couch with a tall glass of orange juice. Nap for a couple of hours while watching horrible daytime television. Head to Martin’s to pick up some cold meds only to discover that the shelves are empty. Apparently I missed the memo that said all drugs are now behind the counter. I ask Rachael about this phenomena (since she much smarter then me) and she explains that hoodlums use these drugs in meth labs. I guess they buy like 20 packs at a shot and cook the suckers up. Again, this just shows how out of touch I am.
Buy some drugs and juice and return to the couch.
The day is a blur of sleep and bad TV. I hate having a cold. Nothing makes you feel like more of a pansy then succumbing to the sniffles. But damn it, my whole body hurts. Rachael comes over after work and takes pitty on me. She takes me to the mall to buy some Orange Chicken (food of kings, people. Food of kings) Then the real fun begins.

So were driving back down Grape Rd. Grape Rd is the major shopping stretch in town and it’s always packed. Middle of traffic and her battery light comes on. Now I have no car knowledge at all. I can put gas in and that’s it. So the light goes and on and her power steering goes off. A touch of smoke starts to appear.

Shit.

So we pull into the K-mart parking lot about a mile from my apartment. She calls her father who diagnoses the problem over the phone. Slipped fan belt. So he says he’ll be right over. 30 minutes later he appears. He pops the hood, he was correct, blown fan belt. Did he bring any tools to fix it? No. So he and Rachael head off to the part store. Me? I’m sick damn it! They drop me off at home. After about a half hour of quilt they still haven’t called to say it’s fixed so I head out there. Now Uncle Mike is involved and both men are fixing the car. I stand on the sidelines like a four-year-old. After much ado the car is fixed and Rachael and I return to the apartment. The poor girl has yet to eat dinner. (This is the part were I make up for my mechanical skills) I run out to Burger King and pick her up a couple of burgers. We watch a bit of TV before we turn in.

Running

2005-10-05T19:53:00.000-07:00

Events of Sunday, October 2, 2005.

Woke up at 8:30am after a miserable night’s sleep. Fighting a cold and I’m out of precious NyQuil.

Popped a vitamin, showered, threw on some gear and headed off to Top Notch. Yes, it’s time for the weekly family fun known as Sunday brunch. This is both good and bad. Good in that I get to see the family, bad in that Top Notch has horrible food. Not only that but they have the ugliest wait staff on the planet. I’m talking bowling shoe ugly. For instance our waitress was beyond greasy. Her hair was jet black with grease and her face was so shiny it blinded me. As usual I ordered a waffle with strawberries and I pity the rest of the family for ordering anything more complex. I scarf down my meal and excuse myself because I promised Andy I’d take him somewhere today.

Get to Andy’s around 11:00 and as usual he doesn’t know where he wants to go. I give him the options of a couple of video stores, he chooses the furthest one and we’re off.

I make the rookie mistake of coughing in the car and my brother instantly covers his ears. (Coughing and throat clearing are Kryptonite to him.) I assure him it won’t happen again and cautiously he puts his hands down. Of course this instantly causes a tickle to form in my throat. I dash for the far end of the video store and cough hoping he won’t hear me. Thankfully he didn’t. Andy picks out a couple of Pokemon videos and we’re out. Drop off the boy and head to my Granny’s.

Arrive at Granny’s around 1:00. I’m here to move my sister back into her apartment. She had eye surgery (two of them in fact) and has spent the last six weeks lying face down. No TV, no reading, sleeping on your face, for six weeks.

Yeah.

I pack her up and drop her back at her apartment. Return to Granny’s where I disassemble the goofy chair the doctors gave my sister to help her stare at the floor. Sadly I am the least mechanically inclined guy…EVER, so this takes longer than it should have.

Pack up the chair and drop it back off at my Father’s. Return home at 4:00pm. I’m tired.
Check out the Football scores and settle down in front of the television. Rachael gets back into town around 5:30pm and stops by. I haven’t seen her all weekend and by god I missed the girl. We chat and she makes dinner. Some sort of chicken and noodles dish which is quite tasty. (Love that girl). We settle in and watch the FOX cartoons before she heads home. I’m in bed at 10:00.

Fall Ahead

2005-10-05T19:50:00.000-07:00

What the hell happened to September?

Events of Saturday, October 1, 2005

Wake up at 8:00 after a miserable night’s sleep. Fighting a cold. Shower, have a couple of eggs and head to the bank. Return home to organize a ton of comics before heading to the Biggs home. I got suckered into helping his Mom back into town. Now it’s not the moving that I mind. Hell, Biggs and I are Olympic level movers. No, what I mind is that we’re moving her in around Noon. This kills the whole day. So I get to the Biggs home and discover his mother is running late. Moving time is now 1pm. Grr.
But, whatcha gonna do, right? God knows I owe the boy. So we get to the house and have at it. As usual we make record time and unload the truck in 50 minutes. Instead of gold metals we are rewarded with alcohol. Coors light and White Russians to be exact. Suddenly my cold feels much better.

I return to the apartment and watch some college football. I should continue sorting through the pile-o-comics on my floor but I’m tired. Not sure if it’s from the cold or the moving. Either way I end up pulling a grandpa and falling asleep in the recliner. Biggs calls me around 5 o’clock. He and Matt and pre drinking for the Notre Dame game. I head on over for quality male bonding time. Irish kick some Purdue ass and I head on home after the 3rd quarter. Really feeling run down now. Set the timer for wrestling (yes, I am that cool) and head to bed.

Mental Health

2005-08-23T20:33:00.000-07:00

So I played hooky today.

No real reason, just needed a mental health day. Oh sure there’s a holiday coming up in like two weeks, but damn it there’s nothing like sitting on your ass while others are working. It’s the American way. And now for your amusement (or not….whatever) a brief look at how I spent my day off.

12:00am: I leave a message on the work answering machine because I’m too much of a wuss to speak to my boss. Do a celebratory cartwheel and turn in for the night.

1:00am: Still awake.

2:00am: Sons of bitches! Still awake!

7:00am: Wake up, scrounge for the remote to make sure the world’s not on fire. It’s not. Flip channels and find the horrid Pam Anderson flick “Barb Wire” on USA. I remember when 7am meant news, 1950s sitcoms, or cartoons. Now you’ve got centerfolds spilling out of their gear. Prettier than Buggs Bunny but far less entertaining. Turn off the garbage in favor of the Bob and Tom show.

9:00am: Throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and walk to the mailbox. Normally I’d drive but the weather’s decent so I go for a stroll. Drop the bills in the slot and power walk back so I can watch ER.

9:30am: Realize it’s the episode where Dr. Mark Green gets beat up. Decide this is sad and flip over to Sports Center.

10:00am: Drive over to Kohl’s department store to spy on my brother. He recently got a new job coach and need to know if the woman’s a psychopath. Do my best Incognito Mosquito impression as I observe the boy without him knowing. The woman looks like a kindly school teacher and Andy looks very relaxed. After fifteen minutes of looking like a potential shoplifter I leave the boy to his work.

10:30am: Hit Wal-Mart for my weekly grocery shopping. Spot the “Candy lady” who fills the work candy machine. Duck down an isle to avoid being seen. Much hiding today.

11:00am: Am the 1st person to get Orange Chicken at the mall today. Life is good.

11:02am: The price of Orange Chicken has gone up. Life sucks.

12:00pm: Rachael calls on her lunch hour. It’s her second day and I fear she’s calling to tell me she hates it. Shockingly she’s having a good day. While doing office work for 40-year-old men isn’t exactly her dream job she’s tolerating the place. We talk for a few minutes and I return to watching daytime television.

1:00pm: Kick myself for not watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer when it was on the air. Damn good show that I enjoy in syndication.

2:00pm: Another episode of Buffy thanks to the good folks of FX.

3:30pm: Quick trip to Barns and Noble for a magazine. Find nothing. And head home.

4:30pm: Watch Pardon The Interruption on ESPN. One of the biggest draw backs to working is missing the wit and wisdom of this show.

5:30pm: My sister calls to chat. She’s funny.

5:42pm: She calls again.

6:07pm: She calls again.

6:45pm: Despite the fact that my fridge is now full of groceries I head to Burger King to indulge in day off fatattitude. Double cheese burgers make me happy.

7:00pm: Watch some old wrestling tapes circa 1998. Wonder what happened to Goldberg.

8:30pm: Call Rachael to chat. As usual she makes me smile.

9:00pm: Watch a full hour of “Whose Line is it Anyway?”

10:00pm: Shower. Watch some M.A.S.H. and head to bed.

11:00pm: In the darkness I realize I haven’t had to deal with forklifts in any way, shape or form. Drift into blissful sleep. (I’m guessing, as I’m about to head to bed now)

schoonaert

Cool kids

2005-08-17T19:35:00.000-07:00

You know the biggest problem with being a dork? Everyone assumes your dork level is high. For example I recently attended a comic book show. Here are some of the questions my work cronies asked:

“Did you dress up like a Star Wars character?”

“Did you camp out in front of the convention center?”

Now honestly, do I strike you guys as being that dorky? (Shut up, Nate!)
Noooooo, I was the coolest cat at the party. Pimp’n in my Express T-Shirt, torn jeans, and Wal-Mart Book bag. (Sorry ladies, I’m taken.) Granted my coolness factor went down a bit when I lugged a stack of old comics and a bootleg Godzilla flick back to my room. But come on, that’s a long way from sport’n a Vader helmet.

Isn’t it?

…….

Shit.

Anyways, the show was a blast. I came away with many a comic, lots of pics of costumed basement dwellers, and a handful of “celebrity” sightings. What celebs you ask? Cream of the crop, baby. I’m talking Jason Mewes (“Jay” of “Jay and Silent Bob” fame), wrestling superstar, Mick Foley and the highly sexy Mercedes McNab (“Harmony” on “Angel” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”)

Boys, if you haven’t seen this girl do yourselves a favor and google her right now. Yeah. She’s hot. I’ve got to admit I felt quite sorry for the lass. She was sitting at a table with some joker (I’ll guess an agent) with stacks of 8x10 color pics for sale. She would sign these babies, pose for pics, chat about plot holes on “Angel”, whatever. But hardly anyone came to see her. Oh plenty of guys admired her from afar, but this poor chick just sat their all lonely and such.
Sad.
My theory on this is that most of these kids had spent many an hour in their parent’s basements having little mental dates with this stunning creature. Thus, when confronted with the genuine article they hid behind their stack of Captain American. Still, what must that girl have been thinking?

Vegas, man, Vegas.

2005-08-08T14:28:00.000-07:00

So I went to Vegas. Now, there are two types of people in the world: Those who like Vegas and those who don’t. I fall into the latter category. Oh don’t get me wrong, I like shiny noisy things as much as anyone; but damn it the place is too much for me. It reminds me of the scene in Pinocchio where the kids are all in some great big damn carnival. They smoke and drink and gamble and then, in a scene far too graphic for my little brain, they mutate into donkeys. That’s Vegas, minus the whores.

Still it was good to see my boys again. You know the litmus test for friendship? Spend a long time apart and see how you interact. I mean “the group” is scattered across the map. Josh is down in Orlando, Nate’s in San Diego, Dave’s chillin’in NYC, and Jason and I are both Hoosiers. We haven’t all been together in nearly two years. Yet instantly it was old times. I mean we just didn’t talk about the past. It wasn’t one of those deals where you see an old buddy from High School and all you can talk about it something that happened in Gym class. No, we just…I don’t know, we just had that same conversational flow. That’s rare, and I hope to never take it for granted.

Quick

2005-08-03T21:18:00.000-07:00

I know, I know I’ve been neglecting the ol’ blog lately. Sorry, but with Vegas and Chicago trips I just haven’t had the time. Big updates soon, I promise. Sunday night….Monday at the latest.

Dinner Time

2005-07-18T14:44:00.000-07:00

There are four certainties in the life of Schoonaert.

1) I likes me some comics

2) I can’t cook.

Well, that’s not true. For all I know I could be a master chef. Rather I don’t cook. I just don’t get it. I live alone. It takes me roughly 12 minutes to consume a meal. So I don’t see the point of spending time chopping, dicing, baking, cooking all to pig out while I watch Dawson’s Cr— Uh, I mean, uhm, Football. Yes, manly football. Then ya have to clean all those pots and pans up. So yeah, if I can’t throw it on the Foreman or shove it in the microwave, chances are I won’t eat it.

That being said lets get two those last certainties.

3) My girlfriend is the coolest.

4) She can cook.

Yes, Ms. Rachael takes pity on my poor eating habits and every so often will favor me with some home cookin’. Last night the girl made egg rolls. First of all the thought that people of non-Asian origin cooking egg rolls had never occurred to me. Yet here was my white as rice girlfriend making fat egg rolls. Super fat. The kind of fat that is only cured by lying motionless in front of the TV. So yeah, the girl can cook and I’m rather happy about that.

And then….

Vegas is just a few days away. Bring on the coke and whores!

Fucking Hot!

2005-07-12T14:41:00.000-07:00

My office is 98 degrees.

Apparently I pissed off the gods of summer and am being punished with a busted air conditioner. Honestly, 98 degrees. It’s hard enough to care about forklifts when your comfortable, but….98 DEGREES!!!!!
My mouth is dry, my skin and clothing are the same animal, and I’m snapping at anyone who crosses my path. Worse, the phone keeps ringing. The typical conversation goes something like this. (What I’m trying not to say appears in this italics)

RING!!! RING!!!

Service, this is Brian.
(What in the sweet name of Hell do you want?!?)

Yeah, my forktruck done take a shit.

Well, that’s a shame, sir.
(Who the fuck cares?)

Yeah, I needs it back right now.

Okay, sir. I’ll get a service tech to you.
(And if I’m lucky he’ll remove your spine and offer it to the gods in return for my precious air conditioner)

Well, when’s he gonna be here?

Well, sir. All my techs are tied up at the moment but as soon as I have someone available I’ll—

I needs someone right now. I told you my truck be down

I understand that, sir.
(You dare interrupt me?!? I will devour your soul you ignorant son of a bitch!)
My all my technicians are on calls right now. But the first free tech will be heading your wa—

I needs them now.

Sigh, hang on, sir. I’ll let you speak to my manager
(at this point I make a noise similar to that of an angry kangaroo and I gladly pass the joker on to my boss. Oh and that noise sounds something like this….ahem….
AHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So yeah, good times.

On the plus side soon I shall be in Vegas with my boys. Well, most of my boys. And a few women as well. Should be fun. I don’t know, I’m such a bad gambler. By that I don’t mean I’m addicted to the roulette wheel. No, I just suck ass. Put twenty bucks in a slot, hit a few buttons, and the game is over. Well that was fun. Good thing I hate money or that would have pissed me off. But this time I’ll stick to video poker where at least I can make a decision of two before going broke. Honestly I just hope everyone has a good time. (and the dave and brown don’t hump each other to death)

On to more randomness…

I have to buy a belt. New work policy that our lovely polo shirts have to be tucked in. Kay. Whatever, just so long as my check clears. So after work last night I’m searching for my belt and the sucker is nowhere to be found. I destroy my tiny one bedroom pad and can’t find it. (I blame the terrorists.) So now I have to hit the Walmart for a belt. But you know, you just fucking know that the second I buy one I’ll find the old one. That’s how the terrorists operate. First they cut you’re A/C then they steal your clothing. Bastards.

Okay, the work day is about done and I must escape this hellish prison.

Word to your mothers.

2005-07-06T19:18:00.000-07:00

Why don’t we ever see post-college life represented in pop culture?

All my life I’ve been inundated with school. Growing up it was, for lack of a better word, my job. My world revolved around school. In my free time my good friends: television, music, and cinema would feed me tales of high school and college life. If I got bored with the electric goodies I had my friends – my school friends – to play with. I had school sports. Family gatherings, where my main contribution to the conversations were about favorite novels or the inability of my brain to understand that pie was actually a number not something crammed with apples. All the while I had one goal, or rather one goal was presented to me: College. It was drilled into my head that you had to do well in school so you could go to college.

Kay.

So that’s what I did. And when I got there it was more of the same. Oh sure my textbooks got heavier and instead of the batter’s box my friends – my school friends – gathered around kegs of beer. But the rest was the same. Friends, work, entertainment, philosophy, sex, money; all satellites of the university.

Then.

It was over.

School was done. I was a person. A big person with a career, family, two cars and a cat named Darwin. Except, I wasn’t. But the television told me I would be. I’d done the hard part. I graduated college. According to the TV I could now go on to my dream job and, again for lack of a better word, start my life.

Now don’t worry about me. Two years removed from college now and I’m good. I’ve got a job, an apartment, a few close friends (geographically/emotionally), even a girlfriend who amazes more every day. Still, I can’t help but think, is this it?

See that’s the thing. Nobody talks about this crap. Nobody prepares you for life away from school. Nobody tells you that there’s not a guide book on the back of your diploma. Why aren’t there movies about this shit? Oh sure there’s “wacky” movies where the protagonist leaves school and goes to the big city to pursue their dreams. When all’s said and done they’ve had some adventures, fallen down a couple of times, but their friends (old and new) rally around them and in the end all their dreams come true. But where’s the story about the people walking around in the world, diploma in hand, and completely clueless about what they want to do with their lives? Where’s the story about the guy who moves to the big city without the friends (school friends) safety net? The story about the girl who has one “decent” job for about a year and then moves on to the next? And the next?
(And don’t you dare tell me “FRIENDS” is an accurate representation of post-college life)

The only answer I can come up with is that…well, the reason there aren’t any stories about this time in your life is that everyone hates this time in their life. No, that’s too strong. It’s just, we can’t figure this part out. We can’t figure it out so we’ll just skip ahead to the next part.

Still.

Something should be done.

(Thus ends my ultra deep and thought provoking blog about my first couple of years away from school. Oh sure I omitted such highlights as my wacky job at the Martin’s Deli and the time I spent the night in jail. But I don’t want to talk about such things. I’ve got comics to write, Vegas trips to plan, and a girl to call. That’s the good stuff. The next part.)

Random stuff

2005-07-04T22:15:00.000-07:00

Ya got to love fireworks.

I have never met a human being that thought fireworks sucked. If such a person exists a wish them a quick death.

Fireworks. Awesome.

So I took tomorrow off. Yes, yes I just had the three day weekend, but ya know there’s nothing quite as satisfying as sleeping while others are working. It’s just such a joy to lounge on the sofa, glance at the clock and think: Ah, work’s probably pretty hectic right about now. I’d better keep watching SportsCenter.

Also, I’m bright red. Decided to get a little sun today in hopes of adding some color to my pasty white frame. Sadly, I am now lobster man. Oh well, at least I’ll have a base tan for the Vegas. Hard to believe that I’ll soon be with the college crew (sans Adcock) for three days of Vegas fun. Hell, I haven’t seen Nate in well over a year. Wow. That’s amazing since I used to see the kid on a daily basis for five years. I miss that kid. I miss all my crew. Thank god I have pictures and video. I really need to make copies of those tapes. DVDs and such. Although I don’t think I’ll show the grandkids how the old man liked to video tape his friends downing shots of Vodka and wrestling like children. Good times.

It saddens me that I don’t keep in touch with some of these people anymore. Particularly the girls. I mean all my friends from college will always mean the world to me but without that backdrop of college, that shared social setting they’re really isn’t that much to talk about. I mean you call, exchange various news items, and then….well, that’s the problem isn’t it. That casual intimacy has morphed into something you have to schedule. Conversations now depend on who has what type of phone plan. I guess that’s life. I guess that’s part of the reason I like this blog shit. I can put in my everyday crap and hopefully give us new fodder to talk about. I fear for the days when all our conversations revolve around “the good old days”

Of course that’s why we have Vegas trips (and maybe November trips to Florida). Still, to all my friends I haven’t spoken to in quite some time: You are never far from my mind. Well, except you Brown. You suck.

Peace and Love

Changes

2005-06-26T19:46:00.000-07:00

My father got married yesterday.

The ceremony itself was nothing extravagant.
A tiny woman, with neat hair and a grandmother’s face, did the honors while the children and parents of the couple served as witness. At 1:00pm my family was four.
At 1:07pm we swelled to nine. Not that it really mattered. Pops and Terri have been together for years now and the new crew’s been living in the house for months; this was just the final nail if you will. Still…to hear the words…. “I now pronounce you”….just strange that’s all. But they seem to make each other happy and that’s all the really matters. (I mean, that’s what they say on the TV machine right?) I’ll tell ya one thing that was slightly disturbing. So the ceremony took place in the backyard with the swimming pool as the backdrop. As the vows are being said I kind of space out and picture my mom in the pool. When I was a kid she’d lay out most weekends and the image just popped into my head. Weird. Now, I don’t think this was my subconscious disapproving of the union. More like a visual timeline just to show me how life has changed. That's not a bad thing….just different.

brian

Dugout

2005-06-22T20:35:00.000-07:00

My friend’s sister ran away from home. At the tender age of sixteen she decided to duck out of her bedroom window and go….elsewhere, I guess. She’s fine. She turned up late the following day. She spent the night walking. Just strolling in the darkness without any place to go. When she got tired she hopped the fence at the high school and rested in the baseball dugout. But, as I said, she’s fine. Back with family and loved ones, none the worse for ware. But the whole incident got me thinking. Now, this girl’s parents didn’t mean for this to happen. They never abused—never threw her in a pit with wild penguins or anything. But this girl decided that she was so unhappy at home she’d rather roam the streets then spend another night in under her parent’s roof. How would you feel as a parent? Would you be pissed that the kid made you worry, or would you step back and think, Wow, my child would rather sleep in a cold, dark, dugout then spend another night in my home. What the fuck did I do wrong?
I don’t know. God only knows what I’d do to a poor child’s psyche. A couple of years of comic books and pro wrestling and the kid would be begging the garbage man to take them away.

Other notes…

This Saturday my father is getting hitched to one Terri Lowe. You may remember Terri by such nicknames as “The Bump”, “T-Low” or my personal favorite “Crazy T-Low”
Should be quite the event. My father has recruited me to be the best man. It’s an odd thing to be the best man at your father’s wedding. Kind of like being asked to be your own godfather. More importantly he’s given me the ultra vital task of keg master. Yep, my Ball State skills will be put to the test as I must load a keg of Miller Lite into my shitty Ford Taurus. I only hope I remember how to tap the sucker. It’s been many a forklift since my last keg.

Batman Begins is the greatest movie ever made by humans. Not really, but it’s damn good. Honestly, it’s nothing like the other Bat flicks. Well…I mean there’s still a guy in a big rubber suit who fancies himself a man-bat, but it’s totally better that the other flicks.

Totally.

Yeah, I said it.

What?!?

Yeah, that’s right.

……bitches….

To my friends: I miss you

The Adventures of Blue Shirt Boy

2005-06-20T20:10:00.000-07:00

It astounds me, it really does. My old roommate Cory and his wife Cassie (C and C. Fucking cute isn’t it?) have been living in the Far East for nearly a year now. Now they’re coming home for a couple of weeks and then they’re off to Japan for a year.
Now, I’ve been out of the country for a grand total of two hours. Crossed the border to Mexico. Saw poverty, ate bad food, saw a guy with a semi-automatic, and I scrambled home. Sure I’d like to travel but anything over two weeks and I’m sure I’d be home sick. But Cory and Cassie just left. Said so long to the life they knew and went into the unknown…and now they’re going back.
What really amazes me….The Cory that I knew had was the picture of sloth. I lived with the kid for two years and in that time I’m sure I saw the kid more asleep than awake. And when he was awake he never really did anything. He’d entertain his friends with his wit and wacky antics. He’d listen to some crappy Beetles music and perhaps watch a sporting event. Other than that…not so much. He just seemed happy to kick back, have a smoke and bullshit with his friends.
Yet some how this boy, with his wife by his side, is living the adventure of a lifetime.
Could it be Cassie’s influence? Did she somehow infuse the kid with a wild lust for life and its mysteries?
I don’t know, but I like to wonder.

schoonaert

Dave From The Future

2005-06-13T17:32:00.000-07:00

We have a request…

Not much going on in the life of brian today. Forklift glory, comic writing, etc.

So, I bring to you a special request from my good friend Dave. For those of you who know Dave this will be entertaining. For those who don’t, get your own damn blog.

The following takes place during my the 1st year post Muncie, while I was working in the dreadful Martin’s Deli.

Fact: With in the next 25 years Man will invent Time Travel.

Why do I claim such a thing? Because on the night of Thursday, December 18, 2003, Dave Lefever visited me from, drum roll please, the future.

I swear the following is true:

Last night I was working (slicin’ ham and looking sexy) when a man walked up to the counter. He was a tall guy, wearing a faded baseball cap from some minor league team I didn’t recognize, a jeans jacket, white t-shit, and blue jeans. He had glasses and hadn’t shaved in a few days. As he walked up (swear by all that is) he did a double clap and said “Heeeeeyyy Guy” and he sounded a lot like Dave. Honest to god, for a couple of seconds I thought it might have been Dave in makeup. The guy ordered some ham and was on his way.

I know this doesn’t have the impact that it would if you’d have seen him in person. But trust me, it was damn eerie. (or maybe it just means I want to have serious man lovin’ with young david)

Peace out hommies.

Schoonaert suits

Best laid plans...

2005-06-12T15:26:00.000-07:00

Most Saturday mornings I have one goal: to sleep in. Oh, nothing crazy but I do love to lie in bed and watch a crappy movie on cable before I even consider opening the curtains. (Hey, don’t judge me. I live alone and I work with forklifts all day.) Now last night I agreed to help my father take the pool cover off today around noon or so. Plenty of time to enjoy post-week laziness. I should have known better. My phone rings at 8:47am.

“Ugh…hello?”

“Hey, Brian!”

“Sigh…hey, Dad.”

“Listen we’re ready anytime.”

“….”

“Hello?”

“Kay.”

“Yeah, we’re thinking it might rain later.”

Now, had I been more awake perhaps I would have bitched and moaned but all I could think about was ending this conversation and returning to my pillows. I told him I’d be over there “in a bit” and I returned to goose down heaven. Thirty minutes later I’m in the car cursing the creator of pool covers.

Bit of history here. Me, my dad, and sometimes my sister have been screwing with this pool cover for the past decade. It’s decrepit, full of holes and smells like a Yeti. Every year our goal is the same: Don’t get the slime and nasty pool cover water into the pool. And every year we fail. Not only does the nastiness get in the pool, usually I’m covered in the slop. Thus why I show up at my fathers wearing my finest JV apparel. Also the question might occur as to why I’m helping with this chore in the first place. Good question. The man has house full of new family members to assist him, surely they can fuck up and get yelled at just as well as I can. But I assume that the children were smarter than I and have made themselves unavailable. So Pops and I start. Same deal as every year. Push, pull, try not to fall in. Then, get this, he says “we’re gonna need some help” and out comes Josh. Josh is my soon to be step-brother, he’s 17-years-old and in far better shape than myself. Turns out the kid was….was…SLEEPING IN THE BASEMENT THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME. So I’m pissed but I know the voicing my displeasure won’t accomplish anything so I bite my tongue. With the kid’s help we accomplish a miracle: We remove the cover without a single drop of mutagen ooze getting in the pool.

With my good deed done I take stock of my situation. It’s ten in the morning. I’m awake. I’m dressed in rags and I’m far, far, away from my bed. Fuck it, I’ll wash the car.

Now I don’t believe in taking my car through a car wash. No real reason, just prefer to wash it by hand. The problem with this: I haven’t washed the sucker in about a year. So as the layers of grim and such fall from the Taurus (Jealous?) I decided to go hardcore and actually clean the sucker out. It’s amazing the shit that accumulates in one’s car. If you’re like myself you tend to use the back seat as a dumping ground for all sorts of junk. I mean, fuck it, I’m not going to be riding back there. So I’m cleaning, the Indiana Jones music hits, and these are some of the treasures that I find:

Two CD covers: One for an import Incubus album and one for the Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back soundtrack

Eleven straw wrappers.

Nine ATM tickets.

Five cans of Diet Pepsi

$3.47 cents in change.

Twelve empty water bottles.

Insane isn’t it? I wonder what McGuyver could have built out of my shit?

With the car lookin’ ready for Prom I head home. Grab a much needed shower and have a snack.

Hit Walmart for some grocery needs and then reward myself with some McDonalds. A double quarter pounder value meal if ya must know.

Came home and watched some of the MTV movie awards. What I saw was okay, thought the whole Napoleon Dynamite as Batman skit was funny. Hit the computer for some comic book writing/internet surfing.

Rachael called and we set up a little date for ourselves. For those of you who don’t really know, Rachael Finch is my girlfriend. She’s wonderful. The girl’s wit and comedic skills fucking leave me in the dust. She also happens to be beautiful.

We went to the Cinema to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith. The scandalous flick that allegedly broke up the marriage of Brad and Jennifer. At least that’s what MSNBC tells me. Why the fuck MSNBC is covering this shit is beyond me. Anyways, we enjoyed the flick but pretty much dismiss it is brain candy. Speaking of brain candy we hit the Walmart (again) for some alcohol. We decided that neither one of us has been drinking in quite a while so we decided unleash. Rachael is a fan of the wine, while I stick to the beer. At the urging of one Ryan Biggs I purchase some Budweiser Select. It’s okay, but it has zero taste. Nodda. It’s the perfect beer if ya want to get drunk really fast.

So we drink, and chat, and laugh and at some point turn in for the night.

All in all a good day.

Here we are now...

2005-06-11T14:13:00.000-07:00

So I’m blogging now. Is that even a word? Blogging. Heh, fun to say though. Anyway, so here I am. I thought this might be a good way to try and keep up with my friends and to give a forum for all the bullshit floating around my brain.

I’m not sure what you’ll find here. Most times it will be shopping list dull, but every so often you’ll get a chuckle or two.

Let the adventure begin.