Penultimate

1.4.2k2


Continued from 1.3.2k2

After a while, my friends and family began to notice my strange new habit. At first they chuckled at its novelty, but when they witnessed my frenzied shoe vacuuming, they stopped laughing.
I hadn’t realized that I was causing such a spectacle that day they found me out, but how could I explain my intra-barhop pit-stop at the Spiffy Auto Wash’s coin-fed car vac? We had just finished off the High Life at one dive and started the two-block trek to another oasis when the cat hair on my shoes lit that fire of obsession in my guts. It so happened that we were right in front of the car wash and I, forgetting myself, sprinted for the high-power vacuums, threw in quarters and luxuriated in the industrial suction. As I “came to,” I crossed the pavement to rejoin my friends and their looks told me volumes: “What the?” and “You’re a freak” and simply, “Dude.” “What,” I said, vainly attempting to deflect their contempt, “I had something on my shoe.” My brother, who scarcely holds anything back, said, “Something’s on your shoe, you scrape it off with a stick. You don’t foot-hump a car vacuum.” “I didn’t foot-hump a car vac,” I said, “there was cat hair on my shoes and I had to get it off.” He looked at me sideways and said, “Cat hair. You’ve got a problem, dude.”
My brother’s brutal honesty that night triggered a dormant no-bullshit-obsessions gene that had taken a back seat to my shoe-vacuuming obsession. I hadn’t realized it, but it had become slightly out of control. It was time to get on that road to recovery, and I knew just how to do it.

To be concluded.

Tonight’s Venue: Mauna Loa

I’ve personally heard about 90% of List Members tell me that they’ll be at the chosen venue tonight, so if anyone owes you money, well come on out and collect. I know I will! See you there! bye-ee!

Pt. 3

1.3.2k2

Continued from 1.2.2k2 …
You must know by now that I have a startlingly large collection of shoes. Some are of the low-maintenance Converse/Vans/Airwalk type, while others need routine polishing and buffing. Having spent a number of winters in the Midwest, where the salt used to melt the ice on the streets leaves an unsightly white salt-stain on shoes, I could often be found cleaning the salt off my shoes and polishing them to a brilliant shine. I enjoyed doing this, as the result was a well-cared-for-looking pair of shoes. Salt-stains on my shoes I could deal with. Soon to come, though, was the trigger to my obsession with vacuuming shoes.
It started innocently enough. The two long-haired cats I lived with began to lounge on my shoes. My cats’ direct contact with canvas shoes, leather shoes, boots, laces and buckles coupled with hardwood floors led to a surprising amount of cat hair all over my shoes. (The hardwood floors factored because the random bits of cat fluff elsewhere in the apartment would inevitably drift across the floor, find and stick to my pile of shoes.) I determined that the most efficient way to rid my shoes of cat dander was to simply vacuum it up.
It seemed, though, that the moment I rid the shoe pile of cat hair that it would again be infested. These were LONG-HAIRED cats, people. How much fur they shed amazed me. So with no small effort, I launched a campaign to keep the shoe-pile free of cat. A vacuuming of the pile every month or so became every week or so. Then the frequency increased to every day. Then, frighteningly, twice a day. Soon I would wake in the night and stumble to my Hoover and my shoe pile. I would find myself carrying a Dust Buster with me to vacuum the shoes I had on in the field. I would suck off my shoes when there was nothing to suck off. Oh, the humanity.

Tonight: Mauna Loa

Last week at the Elephant sure was fun! Lots of friendly faces, new and old. New to the list is Katie.
Some of the TNSC’s more sophisticated systems, such as the Tonight’s Dramatic Reenactment engine, the Tonight’s Contest Generator turned out to not be Y2K2 compatible. Fear not! The geeks at the University of Bisbee have assured me that software upgrades are mere weeks from completion. In the meantime, please enjoy the serialized bullshit adventure.

See you all at the dive! bye-ee!

Pt. 2

1.2.2k2


Continued from 1.1.2k2 …
My quasi-obsession with Tetris led to a strange phenomenon that I have heard is not unique: I would begin to see the Tetris shapes in real-life objects. The Number 151 Sheridan Road CTA bus looked just like a 4x1. The space between those buildings needed a “Flat-S.” My TV set resembled the 2x2 square. It was a bit weird at first. Unsettling. I grew to like it, though. There was a strange sense of convergence between the abstract universe where it constantly rained geometry and the strange city where I lived. I never knew what to expect, so I stopped anticipating. That is a lesson that I have to re-learn often.
But enough about the Tetris compulsion, it was merely to be used to illustrate the concept I’m writing about. You might remember I mentioned the gray area between hobby and obsession. Well Tetris usage grossed that border, or straddled it at the very least. I got something else evolving similarly: Used to be I didn’t give two hoots about vacuuming my shoes. Now I can’t get enough. It’s starting to take over my life.
Some would say that vacuuming shoes might develop into an obsession, but such a thing would never start out as a hobby. I disagree. There is a level of utility to vacuuming one’s shoes, just as there is in shining one’s shoes. That being the act of doing the chore one’s self rather than paying to have the service done. When does the chore start becoming desirable? Do you like the outcome of your actions? Don’t your shoes look great now that you’ve shined them? Isn’t your yard the best-looking on the block due to your hard work? Doesn’t your bike ride better after you detailed it? I maintain that the chore does indeed morph into a hobby.
So what started as a chore – vacuuming shoes – became a hobby. Now that hobby has started to become an obsession.

To be continued …

Tonight: Sadie’s Flying Elephant

News: Some of the Venue Announcement regulars, such as Tonight’s Contest, Porn Title of the Week, and Linkey Loo! have been absent so far this year, but fear not, for they shall return soon. Some of the List members have been absent from meetings so far this year. It’s up to them if they will be returning soon. Hi to List Members and good luck with the Southern Cal satellite meeting.

See you all at the Elephant. You may remember it as being a favorite TNSC destination. Bring yer pals. I know I will. bye-ee!

Here we go!

1.1.2k2


An obsession? Sort of. A hobby? Maybe. It’s a stretch, but maybe you could call it a hobby. It certainly falls in that gray area between obsession and hobby. I would guess there’s a point where every hobby crosses that border. I myownself have gone overboard with one or two hobby-like interests. One just gets a little too into it.
There was a time when I couldn’t get enough of the game Tetris. Before school, after work and well into the night, I’d be flipping around those blocks building and disintegrating that wall. Sure there was the typical high-score-related rivalry with my roommates, but it went beyond wanting to kick their asses like stepchildren. I liked the hypnotic effect of endlessly rotating the Tetris bits. I’d slip into a three-hour Tet-com (Tetris-Coma) that would seem like 15 minutes. It sure was a fun game to play, but not necessarily to watch. There wasn’t much to do. You could root for a “backwards L” to drop next or root against your highscore being defeated but that was about it. Mostly a bunch of BS and small talk. One hot topic of conversation while someone was getting their Tet on was the origin of the game. There was some bullshit story about the game originating in Russia or the USSR or some crap. I never bought it. The Reds could build nukes and pop corn and distill vitamin-V, but computer games?
“Yeh, but, what about them Kremlin-thingys on the box?” I didn’t have an answer for that except for: “Some package-design geek drew the Kremlin. They were probably listening to Sisters of Mercy when they were designing. That’s where the Russian influence starts and stops. Oh, and they were probably hungover from a Stoli binge.” One dill-hole said they knew for a fact that children used to play a version of the game a long time ago on the wind-swept, grassy steppes of Siberia. “Explain that one to me, brainiac. How do you play a practical version of Tetris. Scrabble translates to video game, so does hockey and deer hunting, but Tetris? You’re on crack.” He didn’t have any rebuttal, but he stuck to his guns. Idiot.
To be continued …

Tonight: Shanghai Kelly’s

News: Well hell. 2002. I’m banking on this year being a lot better than its cousins – Y2K and 2K1. Those years seriously sucked. I’m grateful they’re behind us. Hope all had nice holidays, got everything you wanted and didn’t get food poisoning.

See ya all at the bar. Get there early, get there late, just get there. I spent Christmas Eve there. It’s nice. Bring yer pals. bye-ee!

Oh, and, remember ... "two thousand two." Not "two thousand and two." Don't piss me off.