Last night’s trivia was a wash, but I’m pleased that I have remembrance of certain obscure knowledge of like what brand of shoes the Heaven’s Gate suicide cult wore when they 86’d themselves, and that Pietro Maximoff, AKA Quicksilver, is the brother of the Scarlet Witch.
But anyway, the story for the day isn’t about trivia and its disturbing regulars that consists of lolitas, but simply a behavioral observation of dorks.
Now I’ve been doing this graphic design schtick for the better part of the last ten years or so, and I like to think that I’ve seen a good bit. But apparently, regardless of the massive amounts of production work I’ve done in the past, there is always still some room for this old dog to learn some new things.
virgule, n. – a short oblique stroke (/) between two words indicating that whichever is appropriate may be chosen to complete the sense of the text in which they occur
In other words, a slash. Instructions were given to me by an editor to add a space before and after a virgule, and I’m sitting there going wtf. So I looked it up, and lo and behold, it’s a got-damn slash.
And as much as I enjoyed pronouncing it like the greatest slave-gimmick of all time, it’s actually pronounced “vur-gyool“
So, while I’m still sitting here at Willy’s, I have to write about these two assclowns sitting behind me.
To be fair, I guess one of them is truly an assclown, and likely bordering along the lines of “tool” and “douchebag,” based on some of the things I’ve heard come out of his mouth. The other is older, and seems a little more even keeled, and sure, he’s driven by tits and tail too, but then again what straight guy isn’t?
So whenever I start a new freelance gig, my world is kind of turned upside down as I adapt to a new schedule, new place of work, and doing my best to make a good impression with my new employers. Combine all these little nuances, with baseball, and I find that I little time to getting any more brogging done . So I resort to doing it during lunch.
I’m in a good mood today. I found out that I was let off the hook, so to speak, for my banking laziness. My checks were granted clearance before seven card holds, and therefore, I wasn’t dinged seven times for overdraft charges. As much as I’m slightly against going against my usual system for the last three years, going direct deposit might not be a bad idea to prevent this from happening again.
So far, I’ve been dinged with two overdraft fees, and worse case scenario is that I will get dinged for up to six more $35 penalties if I am truly unlucky. And the worst part is that there is nobody to blame for this debacle except myself, for being lazy. I had more than enough money to cover for the checks that cleared that put me in the red in checks, but I never bothered to deposit them into my account until it was too late. And that’s what makes this disappointment slightly worse, because it was completely preventable, and there is absolutely nobody to blame except for me, and there really are no excuses.
Here’s how my mind works. There is a branch that literally opened 4.2 miles from my house, which I thought was excellent due to the simplicity in where it is. Also in this shopping center is a Publix, and several dining options that I’m already sick of. However, there is one inherent flaw to this shopping center, and subsequent convenient bank that makes me avoid going there like the plague sometimes – the terrible logistics of entering and exiting the plaza. Entering is not so much the problem as it is to exit it, as the plaza as a whole is in dire need of some traffic lights to help regulate the situation. So many resort to some tire-smoking peelouts and illegal U-turns to deal with it, and at the two instances in which I most frequently pass the bank, it’s rush hour, and I don’t want to bother dealing with the irritation of leaving the plaza.
There is a branch across the street from where I’ve been freelancing the last two days. And I’ve actually taken the last two lunch breaks in the same plaza. My rationale for not going to this bank was the fact I was on foot, it was hot and humid, that there was no structured walkway to get to the lobby’s ATM, and I didn’t want to be one of those guys who walks through the drive-thru ATM, and being subject to the scrutiny of those in their Lexuses, BMWs and Mercedeses while I deposited my money. Instead, I went to the Willy’s in the plaza exclusively, and those two lunches very well could cost me $70 in overdraft fees due to my laziness.
This is my rationale for not covering my ass in the last few days from the bank closest to my house, and bank right next to where I took my lunches. Irritatingly, it would’ve been far more efficient at enduring the headache of driving or sweating in the heat than sitting here simmering with disgust at myself. To put the cherry on top, all this is occurring on the weekend, so I’m unable to get instant gratification by the end of the business day to see if my deposit has gone through, and kind of handcuffed at any further spending due to there not yet actually being any usable funds in my bank account at the moment.
Tonight, I went to trivia with some friends, and had a good time. Up until the last question, we were a point behind the leader, and lost due to the simple fact that I couldn’t remember the name “Agatha Christie.” But I was certainly pleased and impressed with the wealth of random knowledge that our team was capable of knowing, and I’m pretty sure that we could win one of these days in the future if this were to become a legitimate reoccurring thing.
But anyway, this trivia was held at none other than a fairly obvious nerd hangout; the same place where I enjoyed a birthday party just days prior, filled with large TVs for people to play console games on, which kind of makes me question the legality, as well as several stations for people to play PC games, but most importantly, an impressive set up of Rockband for people to channel their inner rock stars. All this in place, and the simple fact that I’m a notorious people-watcher, I’m watching the people come and go, play trivia and drink boozahol. Naturally, this means I’m checking out the girls in the place, because that is what I do, being the sometimes-ronery, single male that is sort of thinking about the importance and desire to one day settle down.
