So, my friend Tracie has started this random video posting on her YouTube page. I say that to give her a shameless plug and to make myself feel better about this random-ass blog I’m about to post. There’s no theme, so if you’re expecting one well, sorry.
School is back in session. This is quarter ten of what was supposed to be eight, so forgive me if I don’t do sommersaults. So far, it looks like another three months of the usual. Got my seventh-quarter application back. Has that come up before? Maybe not. Okay so, at the end of quarter six, students are required to submit fifty pieces of potential work for a final portfolio. The application comes back the beginning of quarter seven with suggestions and advice for formulating a completion plan. My feedback was pretty straight foward, which means operation “Complete Portfolio” is underway.
Did you know my first art director/creative partner is from Brazil? He’s a fourth- quarter. Student, not an actual fourth quarter. Like in the making of dollar or fiscal year? He’s from Brasilia or somewhere near there. His first name is pretty hard to pronounce, so he goes by his last because it’s easier. Kind of how I started going by Ty, because people couldn’t pronounce Tyrese to save their lives. Well, that is until Tyrese Gibson. Thank God for that! Our partnership is working out okay. Communicating sometimes isn’t easy, but it’s basically a lot me guessing what he’s trying to say and vice-versa. We’ve got two weeks to work it out though. No worries.
Apparently, a worsening economy means vending machine inflation. At school, it now costs $1.40 to get a twenty-oz bottle of Coke; $0.70 for a twelve-oz can. Which begs the question: why would anyone purchase the 20 oz bottle when you can get four extra ounces for the same price? I guess if you’re really into recycling or like the feel of cold plastic in your hand, it’s pretty tempting. Remember when a can of soda cost 50 cents? And, now I’m officially old.
Why is it I never remember to bring a towel with me when I go to the gym? And, by gym, I mean the one at the 2012 lofts. The one I have unlimited access to because of a friend who lives there. And no, not that type of friend. Secretly, I sweat like no body’s business. In fact, my forehead is getting shiny just typing this sentence. But, for some reason, in those times of deliberate exertion, I forget a sweat towel. And instantly, I’m that guy. The one whose getting sweat all over your favorite machine. The one who after he’s done with his workout, looks like he’s taken a shower with his clothes on. It’s okay though, because one day you’re going to ogle this sweaty bod. Mark my words!
I went to a new club this weekend. Well, it’s an old club, but new to me. And, on a Sunday, too! Who goes out on a Sunday? Apparently this guy. The place is called El Chaparral. It’s only “family friendly” on select nights, hence the Sunday night outing. Music selection: hip-hop, house, reggaeton, and r&b. Overall, pretty cool. A little too young for my tastes (damn! Getting older by the second here). Not to mention, the DJs have a touch of ADHD. As soon a song is recognizable they’re off to the next one. Not ideal for getting your groove on successfully.
Okay, my rambling is coming to an end. Thanks for hanging in there. Allow me to leave you with this parting act of passive aggression. If someone asks you for lemon pepper, always verify if they mean seasoning or marinade. If you don’t, they may unintentionally make you feel like an ass for making the wrong choice.