Brett burned me a copy of Revenge of the Sith and is bringing it in to the store Tuesday night. For some reason, when I spoke to him over the phone today, I forgot that I work Tuesday night, so he said he’d leave it in Gary’s office, unmarked so no one would steal it (talk about irony!). All this subterfuge - gone to waste!

A. got fired. Not A. from this post, that’s at Greg’s shop. This is A. from Gary’s shop. Anyway, A. got fired. The only surprising thing about it was how long it took — the kid always had this “Deer in Headlights” expression (reminded me of Ackbar). Y’know, you’d say to him “Hey, get that pizza off the oven” and then you’d actually have to point out the oven to him, and then point out the pizza box on top of the oven to him. Then you’d have to gently remind him, “Uh, get the pizza box…”

See, a week ago A. tore up the undercarriage of his car on a delivery to a house down a rather nasty dirt road. As he put it to me, “I drive a truck for my day job, and I’m just used to gunning it over whatevers in front of me — bumps, potholes, old people — anyway, I forgot I was driving my Volkswagen.” It wasn’t, I don’t think, a particularly expensive repair, but by last night* he still hadn’t gotten it done and his excuses were becoming tiresome. Y’know how you knew someone in high school who used the “my grandfather is dead” excuse so often it became a running joke? Well, first A. borrowed his dad’s car to work … but that broke down. So he borrowed his mother’s car to work … but that broke down. Then he borrowed his brother’s car … you getting where I’m going with this? Anyway, Gary finally blew his fuse and much yelling was to be had into the phone, shortly thereafter the phone in question came hurtling out of his office and smacked pretty neatly into the standing freezer. Then Gary cursed a lot more because written on the front counter, in his handwriting in bright red ink is the following message, “IF YOU SLAM OR BREAK THESE PHONES, I WILL DEDUCT $200 FROM YOUR PAYCHECK.”

Tomorrow I have to work with Ogre. All. Day. They shoot horses, don’t they? (Actually, that’s okay, it’ll be either super busy or dead slow … if it’s the first, cool, I’ll have to do my job and Ogre’s job, but I’ll make money … if it’s the second, meh, I got The Historian to read).

*(I wasn’t at work last night, so I heard about this second-hand today from J., the big seven foot Rastafarian who works nights)

Work was slow. Really slow. As in, Holiday Week, why bother?

There were a handful of deliveries, and of those, even a couple of very decent tips. We ran out of fries so Gary sent me down to Seminary Avenue to our “sister” store to pick some up. He let me drive his Unlimited — yeah, it’s an automatic, but it’s also got a 2″ lift, 32″ tires, is covered in mud, and already looks like it rolled through Quadratec’s warehouse — custom bumpers (front and back), winch assembly, winch-accessory crap bolted to the hood, a “boulder crawler” extension added to the front bumper to which he mounted his foglights … as dirty as the interior is, as well, it makes mine look like a showroom model.

I’ll be getting used to driving Wranglers starting next week — in exchange for feeding and walking a gorgeous beer-bottle lovin’ yellow lab for two and a half weeks, I get free use of a gorgeous Rubicon. The Dad and I are taking it on a roadtrip to Princess Anne next Sunday to visit my grandmother, then swing by my uncle’s place and make use of his pool*.

Tonight was up in the air for most of the day - I was supposed to meet up with some friends for a cookout over in Middle River, or help a friend move. The moving thing got done before I got out of work, but after feeding my ex-professor’s cats in Guilford, I wound up taking an unexpected nap on her couch (what can I say? Zippy makes a nice pillow) and by the time I woke up — like, three hours later — just wanted to come home and veg. (Probably should have called to say, “Hey, not coming” but I’m stupid and un-thoughtful like that).

Swung by the grocery store, the Giant on Ridgely Road, for the first time in close to a year. I prefer the Hunt Valley location. Half the lights were out and the store looked to be in the middle of a renovation. For some reason, they have two juice aisles, and not located within a close proximity to each other. I have no idea why this is.

Borders in Towson closed and got relocated across the road, where Costco used to be … y’know, where Circuit City is? Christ they’re really doing some work to this shopping center, they redid all the store faces, moved Michael’s Art Supplies down, they’re putting in a Kohl’s … wow, it’s amazing! Anyway, Borders, got The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (hooray for left over gift cards from Christmas). I’ll finish it Monday as I have no plans (work or otherwise) for the holiday.

That was my day in a nut shell. Hard to imagine how you couldn’t have had a better one. I’m going to do some cleaning so people don’t get to accuse me of being a slob, then I might put some dishes through the washer. Hey, maybe even start some laundry …

… or, not.

*It’s important not to give my uncle too much foreward notice so that he doesn’t have time to drain the pool beforehand.

I remember when I was - I dunno, nine? - in a caravan being driven home, I think, carpool?, from the Catholic School where I attended first through sixth grades (not all at once). This kid Matt had gone to see a horror film* and was describing it. I remember his description of the end vividly: the insane father, wielding an axe, chased his son through a snow-filled maze made of bushes shaped like creatures. Ugh, I never wanted to see that movie - ever!

After graduating high school, I was at a Wholesale club with my Dad and threw a copy of Stephen King’s The Shining into the basket. I think I finished it that very night (and terrified myself thoroughly in the process). The next morning I went out and bought a copy of The Stand. That started a Stephen King kick which ended with my ownership of probably twenty or thirty of his paperbacks and hardcovers. From a Buick 8? Crap.

But I still never really got into horror films. I mean, yeah, I went to see Relic at the theaters, but that’s because I bought the book and holy crap did that scare the LIVING PISS out of me. It’s the scariest book I think I’ve ever read.

So, like I said, not a huge fan of the horror-film genre.

I first saw the previews for Shaun of the Dead a little over a year ago. And I loved the previews. It looked like a smart, intelligent, gentle stab at the zombie-genre. So when I walked into Best Buy one cold December morning and saw it on the shelf, I snatched it up. And I was right on all counts, plus, it was really funny (like when they’re dancing around the zombie bartender whacking him with pool cues while Queen plays in the background?). I took the film down to my parents’ house with me on Christmas Day and we all (my sister too) watched it. My Mom and sister didn’t much care for it - I think my Dad thought it was the greatest thing since sliced bread, because he was doing a lot of laughing.

So, of course, after seeing Shaun of the Dead, I wanted to see some of the films that it parodied. The first I watched was Dawn of the Dead, the recent remake. It was bloody, it was gory, it was a pretty good movie, although not as scary as I was thinking it would be (very jumpy, yes). Oh, the zombie with no legs who carries himself through the garage on the overhead pipes? Spooooky.

Anyway, from there I found my way to seeing the original Dawn of the Dead, then Night of the Living Dead, then Day of the Dead. And, y’know? I think I saw them in that order.

Last night I went to see George A. Romero’s newest zombie flick, Land of the Living Dead. Let me say that it was pretty darn good. Not scary, persay, although there are some sequences that startle the hell out of you. Essentially, class warfare has restarted itself on this sealed off city penninsula, and just as things hit their boiling point, the zombies — who are now capable of rudimentary communication and strategy — make their attack and everything comes a’ crashing down. Big Daddy’s my hero.

Plus, I had no zombie nightmares. This might’ve had something to do with the incredible amount of drinks I had — two and 3/4ths Bass before the movie, and two Yuenglings after.

Plus, after the film, the couple I went to see it with came back to my place for a few minutes, and the cats fuckin’ went wild in their attention-getting**. Particularly Tippy, who is just the biggest attention whore (physically, Guy is bigger). I think they were trying to communicate: “He’s mean to us, take us with you!” Or maybe they just like to be scratched and petted by other people, cuz damn where they whoring it up! Stupid furballs!

Guy say: “Oh, yeah, scratch me right there … don’t stop…”

*In the beginning of the film, when Jack’s driving the VW Beetle up the hill, you can see the shadow of the helicopter that’s filming the drive.

**At one point, Tippy was on the dining room table and was trying to rub against me as I was walking away, resulting in her falling to the floor and giving me the evilest “What’d you do that for, asshole?” glare.