Wednesday, October 12, 2005
My Morning Jacket is the first Louisville band to receive national attention that I can remember. I’m not that familiar with them, though I suspect they would list Uncle Tupelo, The Jayhawks and other alt-country acts found in my music collection among their antecedents.
I really like this quote from their website, describing Louisville:
My Morning Jacket hail from the city of Louisville, Kentucky, an odd metro-suburban mix of stark industry and fine thoroughbreds and rock and roll fevers. "It's a place with no labels. It's not the South, it's not Chicago, and you don't think of it as you think of New York or LA. It has some Southern romanticism to it, but also a Northern progressivism, this weird urban island in the middle of the state of Kentucky that has always provided a fertile, often dark, bed. For us, Louisville and the surrounding areas are the center of massive creativity and massive weirdness. The place has its flaws: You move away, but you're always going to come back."
Friday, October 07, 2005
Thursday, October 06, 2005
I had to be at work at 7:30 this morning, which always throws off my regular, morning constitutional. As a result, I had to "put in some time at the office" (euphemism for excreting feces from my bowels, via my anus) about an hour after I arrived at work.
As I was finishing my business (and an ugly, painful business it was, paying the piper for Trudy's) and starting to wipe, I noticed a smudge on my left thumb. Grease? Closer inspection revealed it to be greenish-black shit. How did it get there? Wiping mishap? I don't mean to brag, but I've been playing the shit game for quite awhile now (All-District as a junior and senior in high school). I've got a pretty effective wiping technique mastered (I don't be ticklin' or nothin'). In fact, my left hand doesn't even enter the fray, instead being utilized to keep my flappy-happy-pappy out of harms way.
I only wondered for a split second before I used toilet paper to scrape the shit and most of the skin from the base of my thumb. More alarming was the fact that the feces was not my own. A quick glance between my legs into the bowl confirmed this, as I'd had nothing green in my diet for a few days.
Often in the men's room at the dealership, in addition to the two rolls of toilet paper that are loaded in the dispenser, a supplementary roll of toilet paper is left on top of the dispenser. I always find it easier and faster to use that roll, when available. To do so, I stick my left thumb in the tube and pull off paper with my right hand. Today's supplementary roll of t.p., for some reason, had greenish-black shit caked on the inside of the tube. Someone else's greenish-black shit, into which, I had unsuspectingly inserted my thumb. Wondering why and how, is a mental exercise that is too maddening and infuriating for me to engage.
I finished my business with all possible haste and scrubbed my hands for ten minutes, followed by a close inspection of my entire person for signs of additional soilage. I'm thinking about chopping off that thumb when I get home. Thumbs are overrated.
I can now say that my job is both a figurative and literal "shit job". This also marks the second incident in which I've unwittingly handled someone else's poo. I'm not sure what is more baffling, shit inside a toilet paper tube, or shit inside a wallet left on a sidewalk in front of Plucker's. I didn't look inside the toilet paper roll for money.
October 4, 2005
Today was another 7:30 day, so I had to return to the crime scene. I was very careful to use my feet to open the stall door and lift the toilet lid. All appeared spic and span (courtesy of our janitorial service firm, Spics and Spanbaugher). Two ancillary rolls of toilet paper sat innocently on top of the dispenser. Very careful inspection revealed one of them to be yesterday's offending, shit-smeared roll. I had disposed of it yesterday in the garbage can that is in the stall. (Having a garbage can in the stall is disturbing, in and of itself. I've seen shit-caked toilet paper wads resting in the can several times. But like a busy, jaded, big city pedestrian witnessing a street crime, I decided not to get involved.) Apparently, the withered, Mexican crone that cleans the restrooms noticed the discarded roll and fished it out, hopefully not noticing the poo smeared tube. So, after finishing my business today, I dunked the tainted roll in the toilet (carefully), before disposing of it again. I'm off tomorrow, so, one way or another, I hope I'm at the end this affair.