I'm currently sitting on my couch, watching Arrested Development on my roommate's netflix account, eating luke warm chinese food and savoring the hell out of my last few hours as a teenager. Its strange to think that I'm practically twenty. But when I put my life on a time line, it kind of makes sense. Twenty years ago tomorrow I was born. Fifteen years ago I started kindergarten. Twelve years ago I first put on a pair of goalie gloves. Ten years ago I got my Nintendo 64 and my Fifa love affair commenced. Seven years ago I first truly experienced the sensation that is Peyton Manning, at Raymond James Stadium in Tampa Bay. Five years ago I first set foot in the halls of Cathedral High School. Three years ago I had the game of my life, my moment in the spotlight. A year and a half ago I survived multiple attempted homicides by those damn mexican bartenders in Cancun. And three and a half months ago I came to a little restaurant in Wisconsin and my life was never the same. \
Send all gifts to:
1314 E Spaight Street
Make sure to write, "Dan, keep your dirty hippy hands off of your roommate's shit" on any box or envelope you send.
I'll tell you what I'm not gonna miss about Madison, and it's Dan blabbering on and on about how I can't play too rowdy with Grizzman (the dog) because he'll scratch the floor or rip up one of his toys. That poor dog is locked in a cage all day while Dan is out doing hippy shit and I'm sorry if I just wanna help the dog release a little pent up energy.
Grizzman, I realized, is exactly like Dug from UP! They are one and the same. Grizzman is a good dog. He's funny, partially retarded, but at the same time he's pretty smart. And he likes me WAY more than Dan and it pisses Dan off. I don't care if you've had a dog for 10 years. You treat him like your prisoner, God forbid he walk into a room by himself or not roll over when you tell him to. Of course he likes the big smelly kid who acts like a dog more. I give him attention when he wants it, I let him wander around the apartment. I throw the ball when he brings it to me as opposed to saying "No Grizzman". I'm not surprised that the poor dog is always waiting at the top of the stairs come 12 30 when I make my way home. I just feel bad for the poor dog when I move out.
This reminds me, Dan left his ID out on the coffee table the other day. I was not aware but he is 31. He's 31 years old and he does nothing with his life. He has no job. He has no desire for a job. Where he gets his money is beyond me. I always just kind of assumed that he had just graduated school, but no... hes been done with school for ten years almost. Still no job. He's in West Virginia right now, paddling on some river with a bunch of his unemployed hippie friends. If I hadn't paid the security deposit myself I would totally take a massive dump right on the middle of the living room carpet the day I move out. But then either I'd never see my 550 bucks again or he'd blame it on Grizz and lock him in his cage for a week cuz he's a douche.
Yes, I am aware that I didn't write a blog on Sunday, because I was recovering. Last Friday and Saturday were absolute insanity. Friday We did 90 regular guests plus a party of thirty and a party of 16. Saturday we did 140 and a party of 30. Then after we broke down I was too jacked up on adrenaline to go home, so I sat at Graze with Chef Tory, and a few of the cooks until three in the morning. We talked football, we talked food, and we just basked in the glory of the fact that we had survived the night. Which was saying something, because at more than one moment during the night I thought my station was going to spontaneously combust... that kind of night.
I woke up at 9 on Saturday. Early I know, but I had a busy day ahead of me. I went to the Avenue Bar for breakfast. I went to the fieldhouse to see Mary play against Penn State. I got to play one of my favorite games ever with Nicola, Mary's sister. Its called "that's your (significant other)". My sister and I play it all the time. Here are the rules. You go back and forth, finding the ugliest person of the opposite sex and say, "Look... that's your girlfriend/boyfriend." Nicola won... Let's just say that the garbage woman dressed in some sort of African tribal gown with what looked like a bird's nest on her head and I are dating.
I had lunch with the whole Ording family, and watched the colts game. It was really nice. I watched football and passed out around 11 o'clock. Out of sheer exhaustion. On Monday I worked a day shift, fully prepared prepared for the biggest day of the year. I watched Monday night football at Graze and immediately after the game, I biked over to gamestop on State Street. Because at 12:01 Fifa 11 went on sale. I had preordered a copy, but HAD to be the first person in Wisconsin to get the game. I waited at the store for 1 hour and 45 minutes. In popped a five hour energy and sprinted home on my bike. I played until 4 in the morning then woke up at 10 and played for another hour before I had to go to work.
This weekend, my parents are coming to the Mad City to celebrate my birthday with me. I haven't the slightest idea where I want to go or what I want to do but hey... I'll come up with something. It'll be nice to be able to break my Sunday routine. It was really getting old.
Next weekend I fly home at 5 AM on Sunday, after getting off work at 12 30 PM on Saturday. I get to see the Colts play the Chiefs at Lucas Oil. The only game I can possibly see at Lucas Oil this year. I'm beyond excited. I however, am not excited about having to work on Monday after pulling virtually an all nighter on Saturday Night/ Sunday Morning and driving to Madison at the crack of dawn. Getting out of the car and working a 12 hr prep shift.
I've got a month left in Madison. Four weeks of cold side Garde Mo left. Then I go home for a few weeks. Theres a little dog waiting at the stairs for me. When the car pulls in, and that tail starts wagging, I don't think I'll miss L'Etoile TOO much. A few short weeks and I'll be back in the Big Apple. and 6 months later, I'll be done with school. For good. Who knows where I'll be ten years from now, heck I don't even know where I'll be one year from now. (Actually I have kind of an idea, but it's not PG). But I do know that I'm ready to get the next twenty years under way. If they're anything like the last twenty I think I'll be okay.
I'm not superstitious, but the fortune in my crappy chinese food said, "A sweet surprise awaits you." Let's hope the Chinese aren't fucking with me.