Peter Jennings passed away this weekend. I didn't really appreciate the "J" man, as nobody called him, until I found out that he was a smoker. Actually, he was a smoker until he quit, only to start up after 9/11. I can only imagine the smoker's rationale: I work in New York, people are flying airplanes into our office buildings, they're sending anthrax to my colleagues... fuck it, light 'em up. Peter Jennings should have done his broadcasts with a smoke in one hand and a high-ball in the other. Jennings decided that the Marlboro man should get him before Al-Queda.
This morning I awoke as I normally do on Mondays: groggy with a headache on someone elses couch listening to the news> Walter Cronkite, who been carbon dated to about 138 million years old is eulogizing Peter Jennings. My God, Walter Cronkite is spending his retirement eulogizing fallen broadcasters and presidents that are younger than him. That would have to be depressing.
Had a girl over to the condo Friday night. If you're on a date with a girl, a lot of them feel comfortable in commenting on the cleanliness/state of your place of residence. Her verdict: a lot of cool gadgets. Our next "date" is her coming over and cleaning up my house. I explained that she didn't have to do that, but she insisted. That's pretty much embarrassing. Embarrassing, but practical as I had a housecleaner coming in next week.
Housecleaning would have been a moot effort as a fire broke out at my condo complex last night. It was all over the news and my phone started ringing as people watching the 10pm news saw Treehill Park Condo Fires and immediately called me. I was three beers into the evening and rushed home, not knowing if my place was ablaze. It wasn't. I was shocked at the number of fire trucks that responded to the fire, which only affected one building. I think I counted seven or eight trucks. Normally I would comment on the waste of resources, but when it's a fire so close to my house... fuck it. Keep up the good work you wonderful firefighters of East County. I couldn't get my car into my complex so I crashed at Marty's last night. Fires suck. I'd glad I kept my couch sleeping on the optional tip as opposed to having to sleep on someone's couch with nowhere else to go.
Ummm... goochout
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