Sometimes you feel like a nut...sometimes you don't

Hi, my name is Abe Froman.
You're Abe Froman?
Yep.
The sausage king of chicago?
That's me.

Well anyway....another day quickly fading away and I have a lot o crap to do. Exams and lab reports and MCAT studying....it's nuts I tell ya....NUTS.

gloomy sunday

i'm home. listening to billie holiday. knitting a bit here and there. picking up the paper every now and again. stealing bites of chocolate when i feel so moved... i can't quite pick myself up. i should be doing homework. i know. there is plenty of reading on my syllabus and papers due at the end of the week. but nothing is rousing me from my self-pity. i really just want to see mil. he has a way of making the mundane seem special. sitting around finishing up a paper or reading an article doesn't seem quite as dull when he's around. he'll distract me with kisses or cuddles as the mood strikes, or he'll just put some classical music on and read along with me. unfortunately, these days there isn't much time for those random moments of affection -- the mcat class, the study group, and other pre-med occupations pull him from me most of the weekend. so, i spend a lot of time with the bird. it's just not quite the same...

I used to work at a very large music store in times square. I worked there for about 3 years and it was pretty freaking cool. Basically got to listen to music all day and cell a bunch of crappy music to people who didn't know any better than buying an album at a store in times square. I recall very fondly the shirts that we were required to wear while "on duty". They were black, had the logos, and said STAFF on them in multiple places and yet people still came up to us and asked if we worked here. I was pretty sure that all of those people must have been freakin blind. One time I was sitting on the main floor organizing a section of understock when a very large guy with a scraggly bad 80's metal hair came over and said "hey do you work here" and I said "no, I'm just here on the floor for fun" (I must have been in a pretty bad mood) at which the gentleman replied something to the effect of "You don't talk to someone from brooklyn like that, I'll beat your ass you little SOB. Don't you f**k with me....yadda yadda yadda." Now anybody who knows me knows that I am a pretty skinny guy and there is no way in hell that I would have ever been able to take him, however, this store employed a great many large security guards who happened, very much, to love busting people and it did cross my mind (somewhat like Mike Newhouse's logic that before anything gets out of hand we would be pulled apart (obscure movie reference#1)) to throw at least one punch at this loser. "Loser" is loosely defined since my life at that particular moment had me on the dirty floor of a record store with no other goals in life and little or no possibility of any kind of advancement. So no I did not do anything I walked away with a red face as the gentleman was still talking crap about me and hid out in the stock room because this guy freaked me out. You can be sure that, despite my disdain for anyone else that came into the store who asked a question like this, I didn't make any smart ass remarks.

I once worked a 24 hour shift to prepare for a sale that was coming up. I don't think I have ever seen that many stickers in my life. The fun part was when we ran out of stickers that had a particular sale price on them and we had to grab a sharpie and roles of blank stickers and spend 20 minutes writing out the same damn number 1000 times.

Overall I had a good time there despite the lack of pay which I didn't fully realize until I started a new job where I got paid every week what I got paid every two weeks at this store.....man that was a cool cool feeling. A feeling I have recently come to miss. Money....damn you money...

Such is life. I am wondering what it was that Mr. Whittington said or did to make the vice-president shoot him. I would personally like to thank Mr. Cheney on behalf of comics everywhere for providing such rich humor for the next few weeks. QUoted from the NYT article by Elisabeth Bumiller and Ralph Blumenthal..."Everybody forgets, Dick is from Wyoming, said J. Robinson West, a longtime friend of Mr. Cheney who runs [guess what he runs!!!..yep] an energy consulting firm in Washington. "What do you do in Wyoming? You fish and you shoot."
so is this guy saying that becuase dick is from Wyoming he should be free and clear to just shoot people? Don't they also tie gay men up to fences in Wyoming?
So I get in my car and drive on highway 85, pull out a gun and start shooting at people and when I get pulled over and arrested I can simply claim that I am from Los Angeles and that's what we do there? The implications are pretty endless...anyone can now rape a girl and simply say that he is in the NFL and that's what they do. Yep I like to cross the line every now and again.....

Well anyway...that's it for now.....have a nice weekend ya'll

so...

clearly, this is taking off... :)

happy valentine's day

i thought it might be fun to try something new... two folks who are bad at posting regularly = one blog that's updated semi-regularly, right? sounds like it's worth a try... so here goes.