5:21 p.m.: The great beyond

(I am against everything this picture stands for.)

By ART MCGREGOR
Blog on the Run editor

Lothario-ing ain't easy.

Especially on Monday nights.

I had to make one big decision last night. Felt kind of hungry at about 7 p.m. Since I've given up fast food and Chipotle, this would require a trip to the grocery store. Nowhere else sells food.

The fuck, you're thinking. Why not just go to the Shell Station for some Doritos?

Also gave up the entire Shell Station (except for gas) between Mondays and Wednesdays. That move alone will save me ... not making this up ... about $400 a year.

Back to hunger pains.

I'm incredibly obsessive about my weight. I weigh myself every morning and write it down on my desk calendar. For example, on the last Wednesday of September I weighed 151.8 pounds. The next day 150.8 and the next 152.6. (Thursday night's 18 gallons of beer I drink.)

I don't know what days those are (like the 28th, 29th or 30th) because I have to rip off the previous month. But I write in the last week's weights above the first week of each current month. Are you following? No? OK.

Today I'm at 151.2. Pounds. My cousin Kevin had the nickname "LB" in high school because he pounded beers not because he played linebacker because he played soccer and I think he played fullback because he's a bigger guy but get this he played linebacker and fullback on Tecmo Super Bowl because on that game you control all the positions well not on both teams because that'd be boring.

This is just a sentence so I don't begin every paragraph with an "I." Moral is this, I didn't go out yesterday. I stayed in. I didn't go and get a loaf of bread and a thing of peanut butter. I stayed in and instead ate three packets of Austin's Peanut Butter Crackers. I had 45 of them. I'm down to about 18.

Hindsight says I should have at least walked over to Kroger. I could have used the fresh air. After getting home from work at 5:21 p.m., I didn't leave the house. I can't remember that ever happening before. (I've got home at 5:21 p.m. before ... probably multiple times. But not in the same day. That'd be impossible.)

Alonzo Hindsight usually gives great advice.

My house is a complete disaster right now. I am living alone this month before The Godfather moves in post-election. The downstairs is clean as can be. All dishes and cups are clean because I never use them. But the upstairs just has clothes everywhere. Except on the ceiling because we're dancing on the ceiling. Clothes ain't welcome.

Oh what a feeling.

I'm in the midst of bringing out (bring 'em out, bring 'em out) my sweaters and retiring my 3,215 button down shirts that are either blue or light green. Also in the midst of laundry. Also in the midst of not knowing what's clean and dirty so that means everything is dirty. My hallway is covered in clothes. And socks.

I didn't leave the house last night. It's tough to blog about that. If I keep having to write short little posts like this on Tuesday morning, I am going to have to at least leave the house post-5:21 p.m.

That is easy.

They play music at grocery stores

By ART MCGREGOR
Blog on the Run editor

I've eaten lunch at the Giant Eagle Hot Food Bar on Steltzer Road about 14 or 15 times in September. Just noticed something today.

They play music in grocery stores. I hadn't really noticed this since I worked at a Big Eagle in the summer of 1995.

I dig the tunes! In our Columbus market, the music they play is a combination of Sunny 95 (94.7 FM) and Mix 97 (97.1 FM). A more pumped-up version of adult contemporary. I approve. Today they had Annie Lennox's "Sweet Dreams."

The lyric "everybody's looking for something" really means something in a grocery store. Everybody in there is looking for something.

Except me in the summer of 1995. I was looking for nothing.

I worked about 18 hours a week and they were the worst 18 hours of the week. I made something like $65 a week. I got paid every two weeks. I was forced to be in a union. That was awesome. Thanks unions. I really got my money's worth.

I usually worked three or four days a week. My least favorite shift was the 5 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. shift. I'd have to miss the Tribe games! This was before cell phones. Sometimes my mom would come in and tell me the scores. I also always had to work the shitastic Sunday noon to 8:30 p.m. shift and Saturday's from like 2:30 p.m. to 8 p.m. I hated it. I lived about .8 miles from the store. I'd walk there (drive if raining).

I led the league in "giving up shifts." If you wanted to pick up extra hours, I was the guy to see. I would dress in my work outfit, knowing full well I wasn't working and stay away from the house for five hours. Hopefully my mom wouldn't be shopping that night. I took chances.

I'd go see movies or play softball and what not. I finally quit in early September of 1995. I called off sick on my last day. (Of course I did.)

Longest three months of my fucking life.

If you remember college football, it was the time Michigan scored 18-unanswered points in the fourth quarter and beat Virginia 18-17 on the game's final play. I had to be at work at 4 p.m. and there was no way in hell I was missing the end of the game.

The song they played on the grocery store station that summer at least 30 times a day was Rusted Root's "Send me on My Way." They never had a DJ. Just songs 24/7. I don't know how they came up with song orders. I was too busy bagging groceries.

Then again, who am I to disagree?

Milking some lemonade

You don't miss much while tooling around Schiller Park about 7 p.m. Bored before watching a lil' home run derby, I decided to go for a few laps around the .8 mile course. Ran into The Italian Guy with the Same Name as the Truth who We Always See at 185 and chatted with him a little, saw Tug and Sis (not dead!) at a distance and even ran into nine, 10 people that I yelled (in my head) "MayOR" as they ran past me. Anytime I see someone running, I think of my buddy The Mayor. Except black dudes running from the law.

Speaking of The Mayor, I got a text from him about 5:30 p.m. that just said, "670-iger." I thought that was fitting as he must have seen me driving on 670.

As you know, I don't get to the grocery store very often if at all. But I went last night and checked out at 9:35 p.m. Self check out. I was getting a 14-pack of SUGAR FREE CRYSTAL LIGHT ON THE GOD LEMONADE NATURAL FLAVOR and a 12-pack of GIANT EAGLE GENERIC WATER BOTTLES (with water inside). Naturally, I'll have to double up on the packets two times (two times). My rooomie made fun of me for buying water. (What ... is this 1995?) And claimed we had a Brita. It's a fair claim because we do have a Brita but bottled water is way better. And easier. Unlike women because the easy women aren't hardly ever the better women.

I found out about these nifty little portable lemonade packets over at my sister's house. When I lived with her, I routinely would drink her water bottles or have her chips or eat her bread and/or peanut butter. Sometimes her ice cream. Definitely her Diet 7-Up. And yeah, if she had cheese for a grilled cheese. She'd get pissed.I should have asked.

Now when I go over to her house, I'm a GUEST and no longer a roommate. I can pretty much have whatever I want and just say, "GUEST" whenever I'm there. It's a sweet gig. Other than the fact they live in Lower Arlington, it takes about 50 minutes to get there and their neighbor has a BHO sign.

When ya having me over for dinner again? :)

Thought HR Derby was pretty cool last night. I can't believe the Reds traded Josh Hamilton. Whatever with this pitcher they got, Hamilton is the deal. I think the NL gets off the snide tonight. Since they haven't won an All-Star game since 1996 (!!), I think "tonight's the night" in the words of Phil Collins. Last year's All-Star Game was pretty fun.

Glad to see the American League stick it to Quad-A once again. I don't know how the American League ever wins considering the masterminds over in the National League that can bunt and appreciate the double-switch.

The Sports Writer will be here in a little less than 60 hours. He's driving from Washington State to Cape Fear. Any and all are invited to get stupid Thursday at a possible Skully's/Arena District evening.

Long Duk Receipt

BY ART MCGREGOR
Blog on the Run editor

"Receipts
karma
this crowd
depletes"
- mistertrendy, October 2006

This post would be a lot better if I owned a ruler. I've moved some stuff around on my desk looked for one all over, but haven't been able to find one ... or 12 inches in this case. That's what she said.

I do have some 8 1/2'' x 11'' paper, so that will have to do.

Can't say I pay attention to receipts. I know people who save them. Whatever. I've turned in a couple (maybe three) for expense reports in the past, but mostly, I either throw them away or eventually wash them in my jeans pockets. They're not meant to be washed. Like most of the hipsters drinking PBR at Cara Bar.

It's a well known fact that I don't go to the grocery store very often. It's newsworthy when I do. I guess I've been going a little more recently, but I don't think I've ever bought more than six items at the store. Maybe eight.

Keep in mind that on the receipts I'm about to describe, I never bought more than three items.

A receipt for Gay Kroger in the German Village is slightly more than 11 inches long. Giant Eagle German Village gives you a receipt that is a little longer than 10 inches. Subway (SOT - South of Thurman) prints out a receipt that's about nine inches. Is this necessary? I'm not Mr. Green or anything, but why do grocery stores go through all this trouble being environmentally conscious with the re-usable bags and such and then give you all this excess receiptedness.

I doubt an entire receipt has ever been read.

Like whoever penned this nugget on a Kroger receipt:

"Eligible Rx spending is included."

Sorry pal, I don't know that anyone (other than me) has ever read that sentence.

They say the 1980s were the decade of excess, I like to think receipts were about 25 years late to that party.