I'm a Claustrophobic Little Psycho

Good evening all. I scribe this entry to the world from the comfort of my bed. That's right, it's just me encased in my jewel-tone comforter, my iBook and the pleasantly incessant growl of my air conditioning unit. Since it's already past 12:00 and I'm fairly certain that I have unfinished homework (oops), I will cut right to the chase.

Earlier this evening when I was swimming (of which I swam 1800 yds. today!), the natatorium was rather high-trafficked, so I was forced to ask a lovely man of the Orient if I could split a lane with him. He quickly agreed, and in I plopped.

Everything was going just....well, swimmingly if you'll allow the not-so-ingeniously-guised pun, and I commenced with my laps as usual. There was however one fly in the ointment. [[If you know what that's from, you have my instant approval.]] It seemed as if my lifelong friend/lane buddy was a little bit confused with the rules that accompany lane splitting, and if he had been advised of the rules, he was experiencing major compliance issues. I noticed as I was approaching the unnamed man with orange swimming trunks, that he was swimming directly in the middle of the lane and was performing the "frog-leg" stroke (no, I don't remember what it's called, ask Virginia if you really want to know) with admirable beauty. However, twice in a matter of moments, Man X's foot came within microinches of my jaw. Let me just tell you, folks, had this man's podiatric apparatus come in contact with this beautiful mug, I would not have been a happy swimmer. I had half a mind to suspend my laps and report him to the 18-year-old lifeguard on duty, but feared subconsciously that I was becoming the dreaded "crazy lady" from my San Francisco days, so I quickly vetoed the bill of rage. So I just subtly communicated with my lane co-occupant via various gestures and appendage flailings that there were in fact two humans in the lane, and that me constantly hitting the big, red, plastic floaty thing was no longer a viable option for me.

So that's that. The moral of the story is that I'm claustrophobic combined with just a little bit of crazy. If you know what's good for you, respect my aura of personal space to avoid an "episode." Thanks so much and simultaneously I'm sorry for reading. If I were in therapy, the shrink would say that blogging is a healthy release of my feelings into the unknown, so there you have it. Good night! ;-)

The "jeff's blog" Family Increases Yet Again

Whilst I know that it has been nearly a fortnight since my last posting/imparting of wisdom, I trust that everyone has been well and have perpetuated hope throughout each of your respective communities. I, for one, have been a busy little Apis mellifera. But I must admit that my drive and determination to make jeff's blog a true cyber sensation does ebb and flow. Lately I've been on a bit of an ebb spell. But the table turned just about 600 seconds ago when I received an e-mail from my good friend Corey who is currently residing in New York City. I don't think I have told this story, but it was when I had spent the night at Corey's apartment that Brian, Raquel and Zach decided to call the local hospitals and police precincts to verify that I had either died or been kidnapped by men who just claimed that my mother had asked them to give me a ride home. But I digress....

Anyways, I do believe that we have a faithful reader in the fold who will be passing out flyers and mass-producing bumper stickers and t-shirts that bear the jeff's blog coat of arms. So I do believe that things are looking up for our little subculture of intellectuals, musicians, supermodels, CEOs, Academy Award-winning actors and infants. As soon as our daily readership hits 100, there will be a vast party held throughout the land, so keep reading and tell your friends and even your archenemies.

Ok, I'm going for now. I got three new DVDs in from Netflix and haven't had a chance to watch anything. As always, your comments, questions and concerns that won't upset me are always warmly welcomed. Have a great day everyone.

Oh, P.S. I saw Cars last night. As could be expected from the brilliant folks at Pixar, it was a movie of ingenious...genius! Tata.

Jeff's Apartment Deemed Near-Livable

Well finally that the temperature has reached near-equitorial levels, my landlord finally instructed his band of henchmen to install the window unit air conditioners in all the apartments...and I couldn't be more pleased. The air conditioner has been running full blast at 65 degrees Fahrenheit for nearly five days now, and I'm slowly beginning to feel an oncoming surge of comfort. Despite the fact the apartment is still internet-less, which still means that it is still practically unfit to house human life, the apartment is progressively elevating in status.

I'm sitting here on my bed right now while Courtney watches my new favourite (I'm toying with some British English spellings, just work with it) movie, Heights starring Glenn Close. It's an absolutely genius film, and once I have a free moment in my positively hectic whirlwind of a life, I will write up a proper review of it and publish it for all of my loyal readers to individually consider. However, if you wish to cheat and watch it in advance, I can't stop you, and it is available from Netflix.

Well that's all for now. A little temporary boredom set in during the third playing of this feature film presentation, but I'll let you go for now. Oh, thank you to the few and faithful who responded to my latest posting. I'm just going to operate under the assumption that the legions of people who flock to my blog daily were just not ready to approach me on a personal level, and I understand where you're coming from completely. The first time I visited the Los Angeles area and had my first celebrity sighting, I could barely breathe.

Quick Question

The Board of Directors have been breathing down my neck for me to church out ingenius material for my blog, so I just wanted to hear directly from the readers of how often you honestly check my blog. Sure, I can look at fancy graphs and charts and statistics, and if I dug hard enough, I could probably find out several of your all's Social Security numbers, but I just want some simple, honest feedback. So get back with me. Thanks.

Sincerely,
The Slave Behind the Keyboard

Toilet Trouble

So it's very nearly 2:30 am and I just got off the phone with Zach. I feel really sorry for him because he actually has a job and has to be up 'n' at 'em (a favorite idiomatic expression of mine frequently used by my grandmother) at 7:00 EST. Oh well, too bad for him! Hooray for one's sole source of income being a student loan! But anyways, I really wanted to tell you all about my fun encounter this evening before I went to bed.

I would approximate that between 12:05 and 12:07 am I flushed the toilet. I flushed it quite routinely as is customary after every usage of the bathroom, well the ones which require the commode I should say. I distinctly remember depressing the little silver lever with the same intensity and duration as is appropriate for this toilet of mine, and then going on with my other business. Around 12:45 my ears detected that there was a noise originating from the bathroom. To no auditory surprise, it was the toilet...which was still running. Puzzled, I walked into the bathroom only for my bare feet to be greeted by a completely saturated floor mat. Dihydrogen monoxide was rampant. I popped the hood of that baby just to take a look at the engine. To my amazement, the technology inside this toilet was only slightly more advanced than the water bottle connected to a silver tube which hamsters use to have a drink when taking a break from innumerable RPM's on the plastic wheel. After several manual flushes of lifting the metal chain from within the toilet's intimate inner workings, I knew it was time for Phase 2 of my do-it-yourself toilet repair....call Brian.
Glancing at my watch just nanoseconds before speed dialing Brian, I noted that the current time was just a fraction of a minute past 1:00. Knowing full well that both Brian and Raquel had been sawing logs for hours already, I thoughtfully and rightfully interrupted their third sleep cycle. Surprisingly, Raquel answered the phone. There was, however, no time for pleasantries, and I demanded to speak with Brian at once. After explaining my woes to Brian, I was walked through a few rudiments of plumbery. To no avail, the water kept surging, and I was instructed by Brian to cease all water flow into the deranged toilet by means of a little knob behind the toilet bowl attached to the wall. Who knew?! I graciously thanked Brian and bid him happy REM-enduced dreams.

So here we are. I'm laying on my bed wondering who the lucky plumber will be to come and fix my bathroom. I'm kind of excited as I will be initiating an undercover investigation learning if in fact all plumbers experience the legendary "Plumber's Crack." We all will have to wait for those findings. Until then, sleep well and happy May!