I said, fine ma! How’s Washington?

A couple notes from the weekend:

#: Once you get to Natick on the Mass Pike, missing your exit will add about 20-30 minutes to your trip. Especially in the driving rain.

#: An eagle-eyed Watertown police officer spotted my expired inspection sticker in my windshield on Friday. So I took the car to get inspected first thing Saturday morning. There’s a tiny garage around the corner from my place where you can drive in the back and get an inspection done while you wait.

I’m used to handing the car off to a mechanic and waiting fifteen minutes for the good word, so sitting in the car and doing most of the inspection myself opened my eyes to its simplicity.

“Turn on the headlights,” the guy said. “Now the high beams. Okay, put on the parking brake, then shift into Drive.” And so on for less than ten minutes.

#: I always knew you paid a markup when buying liquor in a bar¹, but man! I tried an Irony Cabernet Sauvignon on Saturday that treated me just right. I Googled it today to see what I’d pay to take home a bottle of my own: less than 50% of the menu price. If I’m willing to trust my credit card to a sketchily-named online vendor, I can get a bottle for what I paid for a glass of this delicious wine. Why do I even leave the house to drink?

#: Speaking of: if someone’s invented a better beer for Chinese food than the Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA, bring this person to me. I will reward him with spices of Araby, silks from Cathay.

#: Sunday I made the right call in blowing off Neutrino rehearsal (sorry), as a fit of productivity followed: taking my bedroom rug outside and thwacking it severely, sweeping and Swiffering my room, and not only doing laundry but putting it away, too. In the same day!

#: Cooking experiment last night; stay tuned for updates.

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¹ When I say “markup,” I mean “the increased cost of a Boston liquor license, commercial zoning and downtown real estate, paid for by increasing the resale price of consumables.” C’mon! Who do you think you’re talking to?

I’m surrounded by more babies than Ashanti songs

• I’m not going to talk much about work on here, as a rule, but: were I still in the semiotics game, I might have a lot to say about the degree of weeding I need to do when sorting a list of common search results related to babies. I mean actual babies, not ooh baby, so I have to manually pick out anything inappropriate. No, I don’t want baby got back lyrics. Or hey baby. Or mtv cribs. Or baby got boobs. Or america’s next top wet nurse. There’s enough infancy imagery in pop culture to make at least two masters’ theses, if not a grant proposal.

• Tuesday night I put just shy of 16 gallons in the tank and paid a few dimes shy of $50. That number’s going to sit with me for a while. I can buy an XBox 360 for 7 tanks of gas. I can get a decent suit for 5 tanks of gas. I can take a girl out for a quality dinner or I can fill up my car. You try it - it’s fun!

• Work and jiu-jitsu have taken over my life recently, meaning I haven’t had as much time to devote to the simple pleasures like paying bills. I still haven’t touched my W-2s. I know that I have more than a month to do them and the actual process will take me maybe 2 hours, but I still feel the obligation sorely. My all-time record for earliest filing remains Valentine’s Day. One year I hope to beat that record.

• While woeing is me the other day, I forgot one awesome development that blew the rest of the weekend’s bad news out of the water: I landed tickets to Atmosphere’s next show in Boston! April 26th. I’ve branded this date on the surface of my brain. I will have no schedule conflicts on April 26th. Nothing will stand between me, the Theatre District and the twin sons of Mini-Hopelessness. I understand that the birth / death of your loved one may be important, sir / ma’am, but I’ve got GA seats to Atmosphere, so you’ll excuse my rudeness.

• Speaking of memory, and of work: I have yet to forget where I parked or which locker I’m using in the gym. Given my tendencies toward occasional absentmindedness I consider this a pretty serious accomplishment. Apparently, all it takes is a conscious effort to remember a number - even if that number changes every day (”P3″, “44″, etc) - and I’m good. Or maybe I’m growing sharper in my old age.

• I transition from “mid twenties” to “late twenties” in about three weeks. I’ll make sure to update my viewpoints accordingly.