A few bits of news in my world this week.
First, I have a new roommate. His name is Franklin Roosevelt. He likes chewing things and following me around the kitchen no matter what I'm doing.
He sleeps in a $10 Walgreens bed next to mine and even has his own crate in our library in which he sits sometimes. He likes walking in the park, peeing in the park, and pooping in the park. He also enjoys chasing his own tail.
He's a rescue dog I adopted via Have a Heart Rescue. He's had a rough start but he's doing very well now.
Also, I am interviewing people this week to take the OTHER more official position as my roommate. We'll see what shakes down.
If I hadn't emailed it to you or told you about a million times yet, I am now officially a writer for the Chicagoist blog, covering A&E things. Which include passes to attend and review the Snoop Dogg concert tomorrow night. Bad ass.
You can read my posts here, though I recommend checking the site out daily if you live in Chicago. You can also read my "trial period" posts by entering "Thanks Marcus" in the search box on the front page.
I spent 2 hours yesterday setting up my bosses cell phone because she couldn't/didn't want to do it herself. So instead of getting some actual work done, I activated her phone and then fucked around with the people at AT&T to ensure she can use the phone in Canada. I then had to instruct her how to check voicemail. Now, this may not seem strange to some. She is the same generation of my parents and new things typically scare them. I will never forget the night my mom figured out how to send a text message. But this is a woman who is a founder and president of a technology consulting firm. She boasts of being ON THE LEADING EDGE of certain technologies and software. She scoffs at Apple AND Windows Vista. Yet, she doesn't know how to check voicemail on a cell phone? Pressing the big button with the picture of the envelope on it?
I was in a GRAND mood when I got home around 6:30, an hour late, because I had to stay late and finish up stuff I had to do BEFORE she came to me with her phone issues. Then I found out that Franklin Roosevelt had not been able to hold it any longer and had pooped in his crate. Then he had eaten his poop. And an hour later, he threw up his poop and dinner all over our living room throw rug.
No lie.
It was magnificent.
Beth just laughed, God bless her. And I, what with not being able to smell and all, simply rolled up the carpet and tossed it out back with the rest of the garbage. It was kind of like that time back in NOLA, when I was living with Jeremy, when Johnny puked in the bucket, and I was volunteered to carry it out since I couldn't smell.
Anyway, Frankin #1ed AND #2ed at the SAME TIME this morning on our walk. Which is a first for us. WE'VE TURNED A CORNER!
Thus concludes today's stories on poop.
I also went to one of the Wilco Residency shows last week with a buddy, Andy. He went to all 5 nights. I'd have love to have done that, but I couldn't afford it and had other fish to fry, so to speak. So I settled for one night. And it was awesome.
Just as awesome? The amazing show poster set. I couldn't afford the $125 for the complete set of 5 (which would look A-MAZING! all together in one frame) but I did get one. Pretty awesome.
Here it is.
better version at the website here.
