Sunday, November 10, 2013

#ROW80 SUNDAY CHECK IN – SATURDAY NIGHT ON NEBRASKA AVENUE, 33605, 33602, 33604



I've been so busy lately, what with #NaNoWriMo and once again, doctors, that it seems ages since I've written a new post for #ROW80. Oh, I've had an inspiration here or there, but writing prompts have been overlooked. Until tonight, and I cannot for the life of my understand why I haven't written about this before. Before I get into all that, I want to talk about my “goals.” I've written 18,811 words for #NaNoWriMo as of Saturday, November 9. So, yay about that. My outline and 3 events and 30 whatsis have been a tremendous help. Anyway, back to Sa-tur-day nights on the Avenue of Nebraska!


It's sort of like this, only without the slide, order and apparent polite behavior seen here. Other than that, Cross of Mercy, neon lights, huddled confusion. Yeah, it looks like one of Nebraska Avenue's more celebrated Saturday evenings.

Maybe, it's because in a way, it's always Saturday night on Nebraska Avenue, even on Sunday morning. Jimmy Buffet's line about “it's a thin line between Saturday night and Sunday morning” doesn't apply here. There are no lines. Nope, no sir, no sirree bob, no how and no way.

As my good, good pal Andi-Roo, over at The World 4 Realz says about Twitter, mostly I think, but mentions Facebook, so none of those babies get their widdle feewings hurt, in one of my favorite posts, Cotton Swab Causes Emergency Room Visit and the Fourth of July, “We turned to Twitter and Facebook, that ever-present crowd of parties and advice.” With Nebraska Avenue and “ever-present” and “parties” (loosely defined – a party of one or two is quite common behind the dumpsters and bushes, here) and “advice” – questionable, as I had a roommate in the homeless shelter, who upon discovering that I had not one, but two computers stashed under my bunk, wanted to know why I wasn't on the internet. 


The "Make-Believe" help desk. I think I worked for this dolt at IBM. I jumped ship and went to Verizon, just before the mutiny.

I explained that I had no external antenna, so that I could “steal” someone else's internet (a popular pastime around here, and not just bandwidth.) Said roommate told me she was a computer “expert” and I could just download the wifi device. I kept a straight face and ran to tell my friends who had more than 2 working brain cells about my latest conversation with the newest representative from the Planet Mongo. My good friend Matt, another homie from Choate and Boston University (how the hell do people with such stunning backgrounds become homeless?) said to me, “Great, let's download dinner and save time!” So, the term “expert” around here is used with much abandon and means whatever the hell the “expert” wants it to mean.


. . . Is A Glorious Waste of Time

It's like those idiots who play video games (Runescape) for 5 minutes, decide they now know everything there is to know about the game (Runescape) and can level up to 99 in 15 minutes. They then proceed to write the most meaningless guide to _________ (fish to 99, cook to 99, mine to 99, etc. It's like a job, only with better benefits, and lots more color, too.) Here, from mithos23132, is his guide, called, fittingly, "How to Write Very Bad Guides," from the Tip.it forums and it is hilarious. He so hits the nail on the head. The irony here is, as I was hunting up this guide, I ran across one of the the last posters, who doesn't get it. He's just furious about this horrible guide. 


Lulz. "Way to miss the point." Pwn3d

So, what does this have to do with Saturday night? Why, not a damned thing! It just amused me and I had started out with all the fun we have here on Nebraska Avenue, 33605, 33602, 33604 and I'm always kind of random like that and digress anyway. Andi's ever-present party is a happening thing, but on Saturday nights, it takes on that extra-special meaning. If the Saturday also happens to fall on the day after SSI checks are distributed, well, good times, good times! It's a combination party-riot-search-and-rescue kinda night.


It's about this disco-y and bright, with the neighbors and their disco ball in the living room. Is this a new thing? Am I missing out here? 

Throw in some apocalyptic meltdown music, kind of a Bulgarian hip-hop rap-off, a little hostage situation bull-horn shouting and drive by broken woofers. Probably hooked up to 18 12-volt batteries. Why the hell not 20 or 22 batteries? Can't they hear ya already in Moscow? I happened to look outside one night, and saw in the upstairs apartment to my right, a disco inferno happening complete with disco ball and fire, it looks like inside the apartment. Dude in doorway has tin foil wrapped up in his hair like yo' momma used to do spit curls. He's a-boppin' to the sound and movin' to the beat. Tha's just a lightnin' waitin' to happen! Won't have to pay no electric this month. And it's just nothin' but a thang, chicken wang. On the Avenue, Nebraska Avenue, 33602, 33605, 33604. 


This was supposed to be my Sunday Check in, but I figured I'd try to do a little soft-shoe and put some seltzer down my pants for y'all! Happy Nano-ing and #ROW80ing!
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