Online Journal (May 1, 2003)

Here’s another story about backing into something that shouldn’t be backed into:

I had just got my driver’s license the week before along with my first car, a 1988 Mazda 323, just the day before. I went to work at Edwardo’s in downtown South Bend and parked in the lot next to Ralph’s. After work I proceeded to go home, only to be surprised when I hit something backing up. The most shocking thing was that I had been looking in my rearview mirror when I hit something. I looked more closely in my mirror and saw that damned telephone poll that was camouflaged by the brown brick buildings surrounding it.

Jesus Christ! There was very little damage to my car (a small dent in the rear bumper), but how embarrassing was that going to be to tell my parents that I had already been in an accident? In my defense, however, it’s very apparent that I’m not the only person to have hit that stupid telephone poll, as even now it looks as though it’s been attacked by a family of beavers. Yeah, it’s funny.

In the absence of my car I decided to walk the two or three miles from Joe’s house to my parents’ the other day (I was hungry). On the way I passed through my old paper route. Man, that was a long time ago. Nine years, to be approximate. I did it for the two years I was in junior high.

The walk brought back a lot of memories. There was that one old lady who was always nice cheerful with the old car—it was still sitting in her driveway. There were the houses of the two old ladies that had me come inside and bring it to them as they watched the news. They lived a few blocks apart, but they had so much in common. Like the way their homes smelled funny. Not bad, just strange. They’ve both since died. I passed the small apartment that now has a faded September 11 poster in the one window, where Ms. Sloan (one of my substitute teachers) lived with a guy named Tony. That apartment was next to an apartment duplex in which I dreamed recently that I hid in as a nuclear war went on around me. There was the house that were mean and didn’t pay for their paper for three months, so I finally stopped delivering to them. And there was the house that always kept their money for the paper under their cable box. They always tipped me three dollars.

I never made much money with that job, and the little I did make I seem to remember spending it on Slurpees at the 7-Eleven (which is no longer there). I was lucky enough to have my dad help me with those huge-ass papers on Sundays (my mom helped every once in a while) and then take me to Smith’s (it’s called Charlie’s now, but I think most people just refer to it as Lesbo Mart) for a Nestle Quik (now called Nesquik) and a maple long john. I remember for a couple months I’d have Jupiter and Venus in the early morning sky shining brightly enough that I’d still see it after the sun came up.

Every once in a while I’m reminded by old customers that I was the best paperboy they ever had. I’m inclined to agree.

Speaking of junior high, anybody else remember the TV show DeGrassi Junior High? Man, that was a great show. Why wasn’t that show ever syndicated into oblivion like Saved By The Bell? They could probably devote an entire cable channel to it. It’d have to be more entertaining than the Golf Channel. Or QVC. Or MTV73. Or that Reality TV channel coming out next year. Can somebody say, “Bad timing?”

Well, the diet is officially over, and to celebrate I walked to Wayne’s Place and ate two eggs, toast and hash browns. Even though I was stuffed after that, I walked over to Bonnie Doon’s and got myself a chocolate ice cream cone. And it was a sugar cone, too! I still plan on eating healthier and exercising like I have for the past month, but now I just don’t have to be as anal about it. Or feel guilty about going to Hacienda 3 times a week.

My self-imposed year of Hell with Ryan officially starts today. I have a feeling this could end up being the final straw that breaks the camel’s back, or rather what causes me to actually hate Amber.

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- May 1, 2003