What every single web log is -- completely random and pointless, yet oddly alluring.

<< current



Saturday, June 08, 2002


After years of trying, I was finally approved for a credit card. I don't know why everyone else around me got one while I was left with rejection letters, especially seeing as I had no bad credit and no records of late payments of any kind ever. As I opened that envelope from somewhere in Delware -- the Forgotten State, I raised my arms in triumph, yelling "Acceptance!" Big deal, right? Well, for me it is. I live in Connecticut.

But I'm sure you all could have figured that out on your own.

This evening, as I was grabbing some blogging music from my basement room, I nearly stepped on a giant wolf spider. My girlish screams caught my brother's attention, and he came down to see what spider I had encountered. When he laid eyes on this beast, he was quoted as saying, "Jesus Christ. That spider's huge!"

"I wouldn't sleep down here if I were you," he continued.

We chased the spider into the furnace room, hurling plants, boots and other assorted items at it, but it got away. Needless to say, I will not be sleeping in the basement tonight, as the furnace room is really, really close to my bed. Just one more reason for me to prefer my 15th floor hermetically sealed Boston apartment -- no spiders.

As the spiders have successfully chased me out of my own room and nearly given me a heart attack, I will award them three points. This brings the score to:
Casey: 6
Spiders: 3

Is another spider retaliation on the horizon? I hope not.

posted at 11:41 PM

Thursday, June 06, 2002


So today at work, something triggered a memory of someone I used to work with at my old job at Spear Capital Management. His name was Bill. He was a tall, bearded Vietnam vet who rode a motorcycle to work. At this small financial firm, he looked distinctively out of place, but his personality betrayed his intimidating appearance.

Bill was one of the most approachable, amicable people I've ever met, and he was a master storyteller, to boot. During breaks, he would constantly entertain with tales of near-fatal motorcycle accidents, bar brawls and jungle sniping missions, all with a uniquely black sense of humor. He also liked Wile E. Coyote a lot, which is awesome.

The thing I remembered for some random reason today was this: During a stretch of account maintainence calls we were making, it seemed like all we were doing was leaving messages on peoples' answering machines. Bill turned to me as he was leaving to get some water and said, "Sometimes I think of what it'd sound like if all the messages I've left on every answering machine went off at the same time. Coast-to-Coast Wild Bill, my friend."

Unusual as that imagined scenario was, it definately struck me, and has remained ingrained in my memory for a few years now. Just thought I'd like to share.

posted at 12:06 AM

Wednesday, June 05, 2002

Why the hell aren't my archives working?
posted at 1:32 PM

Over the last couple of days, I've unfortunately remembered how good a game Final Fantasy X is, so I've been occupying my brother's PlayStation2 pretty much every single minute I'm not working.

Yesterday I went back to my sister's elementary school for an "Author's Tea." They've got this really great new program where they pick a bunch of talented writers from all over the school, publish their stories in hardcover books and keep them in the school's library. My sister was chosen for some poems she'd written, but really, almost all of the kids who read were very good. There were even a few kids from second grade. SECOND GRADE!

I just hope these kids realize how great it was to have teachers help guide them through the writing process at such an early age. I think the first short story I wrote was in first or second grade, and I've always been lucky enough to have teachers help me refine and focus my writing -- from elementary school through a few really brilliant college professors. One who even trusted me enough to be her teaching assistant, a job which I was not only pretty damn good at, but also enjoyed immensely. Maybe if I get tired of this whole television thing, I'll find a nice home for myself teaching somewhere. The moral of the story -- Teachers: gotta love 'em. Well, some of them, at least. Especially if they're me.

Casey: 6
Spiders: 0
posted at 1:28 PM

Sunday, June 02, 2002

This evening, Chris, Matt and Sara took me out to On The Border for a belated birthday celebration. The evening began with quite a long wait for the restaraunt, where we all discussed how hungry we were. When we finally got inside, we devoured the complementary greasy tortilla chips and I ordered my very first self-bought, legally-purchased alcoholic beverage -- a Cactus Cooler.

According to the On The Border menu, this is " A refreshing drink made with Captain Morgan Original Spiced Rum, MidoriŽ Melon liqueur, lime and orange juice, topped with SpriteŽ." I need to find out how to make these, because it was absolutely delicious. Anyway, we finished our respective meals, had several hi-larious conversations (as is the norm) before I saw several restaraunt employees approaching our table, holding a dessert item. It was them. The Dreaded Birthday Singers.

Normally, I would have totally freaked out at this point. I actually got into an argument with my grandmother once because she wanted to get me the Dreaded Birthday Singers at a Bertucci's some years ago. But this time was different.

The Dreaded Birthday Singers approached the table, and as I realized what was going on, my face instinctively arranged itself into a scowl -- one that Sara would later refer to as "priceless."

"What's your name?" asked the waiter, holding a giant brownie sundae.

It was then that I glanced around the table at my compatriots to see their grinning faces. "Casey," I replied.

Our waiter turned to the rest of the restaraunt and yelled at the top of his lungs. "Attention, On The Border. It's Casey's birthday today!"

As he and the rest of the multicolor shirted waiters and waitresses launched into a distinctive rendition of a birthday song, I noticed Sara, Chris and Matt all having a grand ol' time. I think Chris was actually clapping in time with the song at some point. A smile broke my face as I realized this was different than my family pulling this kind of stunt. A smile that said, "Kudos, you magnificent bastards. This is exactly what I would have done to me." They weren't doing this because they love me; they did it to spite me because it was funny and they knew that if I did it to them, I would do it out of spite and think it was funny, too ("My personal hell is people coming up to me in public places and singing 'happy birthday' for eternity" - Sara). And that is why I love them. I was also smiling because I didn't see it coming at all, because every year they threaten to do it, but never do. Sometime before the song ended with "Happy birthday from On The Border Cafe / Ole!" I got into it, too. I congratulated everyone on a plot well-hidden, then we all got into the brownie sundae.

We retired to Sara's house for some GoldenEye action and the ceremonial presentation of gifts. My friends and I usually give really good gifts, and this year was no exception. Chris and Matt got me a bizarre Egyptian Anubis pen and a miniature orange bonsai, while Sara gave me very classy crystal wine glasses. And while these gifts are excellent and greatly appreciated on their own, I'll enjoy them even more when they remind me of the Dreaded Birthday Singers.

So thanks, guys.

Oh, and you're all totally getting strippers on your birthdays.
posted at 1:17 AM

This page is powered by Blogger.