Ahhh, neighbors...

I think the baby downstairs has colic. From 5am…well, it's still going strong at 3:41pm…all I've heard is non-stop crying. Every once in a while the baby will pause for about ten minutes and then jump right back into its incomprehensible wailing.

I guess the parents think it's OK to just let the baby cry. Sometimes I hear them talking in loud voices in order to hear each other over the baby's cries. I've never seen these people…but yet I feel like I know them.

The truth is, they're either fighting, partying, or having thirty-second hump-a-thons. And it's typically in that order. Their lives often intrude upon mine. When they're fighting and partying I go in my room because it's quieter in there. When they're doing the horizontal shuffle I try to think happy thoughts and turn up Fox News.

This enigmatic couple also has a daughter of probably 6 or 7. I've never seen her but I feel like I know her a little through what she says and how she says it. One time when her parents were arguing the little girl screamed, "I CAN'T HEAR THE TV!" Another time, during one of her whimpering fests, she yelled that she really hated them. I totally empathize with her; sometimes I hate them too.

And the baby cries on…

Today I bought a new can opener...

The one I was using had a disgusting blade--all crustified with God knows what. Anyway, I got tired of scraping that rust colored crumbly gunk from my Rosarita Beans and so I went out and bought this really cool safe edge can opener. It's pretty cool because it leaves no sharp edges on the lid or the can. And now I no longer have to scour my beans for bits of food from the late nineties.

All in a day's work...

The tall black guy lopes down the movie aisle with a stack of ten DVDs in his hands. His coat is white and puffy, too large and padded for the nice weather outside. He kneels, seemingly contemplating the pile of movies in his hand, then peers around the store with his head slightly lowered.

A thief.

I immediately dispatch two employees to "customer service" him to death. Undeterred, the thief mumbles a few incoherent words to my over-friendly partners and then veers down another aisle, randomly collecting more DVDs as he goes.

A dumb thief.

Suddenly he makes a beeline for one of the emergency exits. Not too fast, but definitely at a quicker pace than before. He leans against the exit door and, to his dismay, the door is locked. No alarm sounds. He then quickens his pace, heading toward the front door.

The entire time I'm matching him step for step just one aisle away. I snap my fingers and my training manager--a guy so large he's been dubbed Big Ben--steps in front of the door. The thief slows and changes course, heading for the second exit.

Big Ben stomps over just as the thief walks through the security sensors, setting off the alarm.

"SIR," I say in a loud voice, "YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR THOSE!"

The thief makes a run for it.

Only Big Ben is standing in his way.

They collide.

The thief is now wrapped in Big Ben's thick arms like a polar bear wrestling a boa constrictor. The two roll and twist, the thief holding fast to his stolen goods.

"CALL THE POLICE!" Big Ben yells.

"DROP THE PRODUCT!" I yell to the thief as I dial the police.

"OKAY, OKAY!" the thief cries as DVDs fly from his arms as if they exploded from his body.

The thief breaks free. Like a dart he flies down the street.

"TELL YOUR FRIENDS THEY CAN'T STEAL HERE NO MORE!" I yell after him.

Several ambitious customers chase after him, but he's too fast.

Other customers cheer, applauding the free show.

I glance around at the fallen DVDs. And there, in the center of it all, is a manila packet. I pick it up and look inside. Like a gift from heaven, it contains the thief's personal information--including his work schedule.

The police were happy to receive that little bit of evidence.

Brokeback to the Future...

Brokeback Mountain + Back to the Future

I found this link on Orson Scott Card's site.

Too funny!

This shoe tastes yummy...

I’m really getting a kick out of these foot-in-mouth scenarios. You see, it’s been a while since I’ve mingled with so many new people. These past few years it was all about going to school, doing homework, reading, going to bed. I really didn’t socialize much. So now that I’m in a new place there are so many opportunities for me to make a complete fool of myself. Ain’t life great! I love it!

Oops #1:

The dress code at my work is all black. So the training manager and I were walking to Taco Bell for lunch and I commented: “Dang, the way we’re dressed people are gonna think we’re Mormons.”

He glanced over at me and smiled.

I swallowed hard. “You’re Mormon aren’t you?” I said sheepishly.

He nodded.

DOH!

Oops #2:

I was in Swatch, you know…reminiscing…and checking out their new product. I was peering into the Bijoux (unisex jewelry) display case at a flashy looking ring. The girl at the counter quickly offered to show it to me and I told her that I was just looking.

“That silver and black ring makes a cool thumb ring,” she persisted.

“Naw…thumb rings look so awkward,” I said.

She snorted and I glanced down at her hands.

“Oh, but it looks cool on you!”

DOH!

And then…last night at work. You’re not going to believe this! But here’s Oops#3, which actually happened after I’d written this post and so I decided to add it at the bottom.

A lady hollered over the counter if I had any Pride and Prejudice movies in stock. I told her we were all rented out but I’d look in a fresh stack that just came in. So as I’m glancing at the titles she yells out: “Oh there’s one! Second stack, third one down!”

“Good eye!” I praised her as I quickly grabbed the movie.

Then I turned to see that, indeed, she only had one good eye. The other one was fixed on something somewhere out in the parking lot.

You have no idea how badly I just wanted to sink into the floor!

And so this curse continues…

It's Snowing!!!

It was awesome to peer out my window this morning at the snowflakes drifting past. They were white and fluffy but melted the moment they touched the ground. But it was amazing to observe an act of nature that is considered an anomaly in the central valley of California. Just another reminder that I’m not in Fresno anymore.

In fact, it was the third time in my life to see it snowing. The first time was on a ski trip with some friends not too far from Yosemite. I can’t recall all who went but I do remember Chandra—a foreign student from Indonesia—was there. Not only was it Chandra’s first time to see snow fall but it was also his first time to see snow at all.

Chandra was brave that day. I vividly remember how quick he was to join me in the ski lift that hauled us to the top of the mountain. The entire time he was looking all around him—his normally brown skin pale with fear and apprehension. And he kept repeating: “It’s crazy, it’s crazy…” as his wide eyes swept over the sea of white.

The chair dropped us off at the top and we both swung awkwardly around to peer down the steep icy mountain. Little kids zoomed past us as though they were born on skiis. I wasn’t much of a skier and so my heart was also racing, and I advised Chandra to make steady zigzags across the face of the mountain rather than aiming his skiis straight down.

Not surprisingly, we both fell quite a lot. But before long we were safely at the bottom where Chandra was happy to remain for the rest of the day. But I’ll never forget the courage he displayed that day. Since then I’ve only gone skiing a handful of times. I think I’ll always prefer gazing down at the snow from my third story apartment to standing on two sticks at the top of a mountain.

The Curse of the Evil Parrot…

I don’t know about you but I’m always sticking my foot in my mouth. Sometimes I wonder if the gods are playing some cruel game with me: Let’s see how awkward we can make Grant feel. Oh yes, that’d be a riot!

Let me explain: For some peculiar reason—I can’t fathom why—whenever I talk to someone with an accent I inadvertently mimic their speech. I don’t know, maybe I was an evil parrot in a past life and this character flaw is my penance. At any rate, this happened once while I was talking with a black woman. I actually answered her question with a very soulful mmmmhmmmm, you know it.

Oops.

And stutterers are some of the most frightening people to be around. Their speech patterns are so infectious and I find myself stumbling over my words, concentrating really hard on every syllable so that I don’t appear to be making fun of them. It’s as uncomfortable as talking to someone with a lazy eye: Dammit, which one do I look at?! God help me if I ever strike up a conversation with a person with Down Syndrome.

But my gaffs come in other embarrassing forms as well—though equally as mortifying. My most recent foot-in-the-mouth scenario occurred while I was working at my new job. When it gets busy, I get a little crazy—fun crazy. And I’ll pop off with a goofy comment like “thanks for the dance” if I stumble into another employee in a tight aisle.

But this time I did something totally different: I pretended like I was going to karate chop the employee and I coupled the exaggerated hand gesture with an equally exaggerated Hiiiiiyaaaaaw!! Only, the employee was Chinese…and I could tell by his facial expression and feeble sigh that he thought I was making fun of his ethnicity.

I quickly recovered, smiled, and added dumbly, “Pretty busy today, huh?”

DOH! The gods have won this round. And so my curse continues…

A Walk in the Park...

Five minutes by foot from my apartment lies the entrance to an enormous park packed with giant redwood trees, a Vietnam memorial, a holocaust memorial, a kiddie museum, a zoo, a Japanese Garden, and the list goes on.

So on Sunday I decided to venture out and explore this massive park that’s virtually in my backyard. I had the day off and thought it might be fun to visit the zoo, so I followed the little wooden signs that ushered me along a winding trail into the misty woods.

After quite a while of walking—maybe an hour—I spotted my fourth zoo sign. So I continued on, figuring I’d get there eventually. Several teenagers zoomed by on dirt bikes, leaping over mounds of dirt and posing midair. I watched them until they vanished around a bend and turned just in time to see a rugged looking man jetting by on a ten speed, fully camouflaged, with a crossbow strapped to his back.

I started to worry. Was he chasing them? Was this some deranged version of Surviving the Game? And then I started really taking a good look at my surroundings. The forest was thick. The ground was covered in a mass of dewy foliage. I thought back to the sign I’d read about not feeding the wildlife. What wildlife? Oh shit. What wildlife! Crap. Frightening images of grizzly bears and mountain lions sprang to mind. I suddenly remembered a Discovery Channel special I’d watched on Sasquatch. Wasn’t he spotted in Oregon?

I came to another wooden sign announcing that the Hoyt Arboretum was .9 miles away. There were several other destinations listed, the zoo at the very bottom. When I finally arrived at the Arboretum I spotted a huge map of the park and so I traced my path. I had walked three miles—uphill! And the zoo was clear on the other side of the park—maybe twice the distance I’d already walked.

Exhausted, I gazed across the distance and thought, Holy crap…I’m gonna have to walk all the way back. But just then, I spotted a small brick building in the middle of a clearing. A sign said in huge red letters: The MAX. My heart leapt. I hurried over. Yes! There was an elevator. I pushed the button and stepped in. A digital display showed that I was at 700 feet elevation. The elevator descended…

600 feet…

500 feet…

The doors opened.

I was in an enormous subway station! I threw my hands up to the sky and shouted (in my head, of course): I LOVE PORTLAND!!!