So it's summer again and I... am not happy about that.
Summer is the time of year where being an Italian/Armenian living in California is somewhat like being trapped in an old Volkswagen in the Utah Salt Flats with the windows rolled up, no car keys and zipped up in a Chewbacca costume. It's hot, sticky, there seems to be a constant shortage of oxygen, and it smells bad. Usually by the end of the day, certain areas of clothing have turned into just a wad of uncomfortable damp material, some being heavier than others and all rubbing and pulling out hair from different parts of the body. The only semi-positive thing about the summer time is when the back of my shirt has retained so much sweat, it forces my center of gravity backwards, straightening out my posture to prepare me for the hunched over misery and despair of the inevitable holiday season.
It's also that time of year that allergies are the most rampant. Apparently this time of year, little things fall off of trees, catch some invisible slipstream of wind and travel directly into my nasal passage, resulting in itchy, watery, sinus pressure accompanied by nosebleeds, spontaneous and uncontrollable sneezing fits, sore throats and headaches. Very few medicines work since I seem to have the ability to immunize myself to them very quickly. So basically, to sum it up, the next three to four months of life, I will transform into a frustrated, hot, uncomfortable, sneezing, sweating, itchy, stinky, crusty, mucousy, bloody pile of hairy shit.
Oh yeah... I'm bringing sexy back.
As if things couldn't get any worse, the next few weeks will be spent outdoors, and several times driving the US Cold Storage work truck. The US Cold work truck is one of three trucks my company uses to transport small materials around, pick up tools and materials from the nearby hardware store and is general purpose for deliveries for things like paperwork, dry ice, hookers, etc. There are three work trucks, all from different era's of the evolution of the truck. There is a nice shiny, silver Nissan Frontier, brought in last year sometime, a bright blue 90's model Ford F-150 that's in good condition, and then the one I get to drive. It looks a little like this:
Don't get me wrong, it's a good truck. Has very low mileage for it's age. It does have a short list of discrepancies which aren't to much of a big deal. There is no turn signal so arm gestures are required, there's no radio, it's interior has kind of a brown leather "Boogie Nights" feel to it, no A/C, it's literally covered in rust, but for the most part, it gets the job done. The problem with driving this in the summer coupled with my Chris Farley-ish sweat capability is removing myself from the brown leather. It's a little like peeling a fruit roll-up out of it's plastic wrap.
My house is finally my house. That's good news. There is a ton of work that needs to be done. Painting and cleaning mostly. The house is in rather good condition aside from some spots that need to be scrubbed down and cleaned off and the poor state of the backyard. It'll take some time, but it will be a healthy break from sitting on my ass in a rental.
My brother helped me move all my stuff over, and I can't thank him enough for that, especially since my house was teeming with useless the entire weekend. We got ALL my large furniture packed and unpacked in one day and I'm still feeling the side effects. Immediately after unpacking my stuff, we then went off to Vince's for a high-velocity band practice. I'm still pretty achy.
Another note, last weekend we went up to Daniel's (My brother-in-law) birthday party where Laura announced her pregnancy. I'm gonna be an uncle. It's going to be an exciting year with everything going on. I'm sure Daniel and Laura will make great parents. I don't know too many people as responsible and caring as those two.
We also stopped by my mom's house for "Armenian Violin" day. We had excellent food, excellent company, shitty coffee, and Landon provided the entertainment for the evening. It was a tight squeeze to fit everything in on such a short weekend but Mom was persuasive. So persuasive in fact that she paid off a few utility bills without my knowledge, ultimately resulting in a well-maneuvered guilt trip. I tell you, she's good at what she does. We then show up and she's sweating over a stove and running all over the house trying to provide a giant meal for everyone. She's definitely the chip-leader in the game of guilt.
So we ate...well, I ate. By the end of the night, when I was on my 6th or 7th pound of pilaf, I looked around and realized, I was the only one left at the table. Mom then brought out what seemed to be some sort of an Ewok beverage. She called it Turkish coffee, I called it sweetened coal tar. It wasn't going down too well so I poured it on my scalp, and I don't think I'll be getting dandruff ever again.
I'm looking forward to the next meal like that, hoping she'll cook some Sarma. It is my favorite. I live so far away, I hardly ever get to eat the things I got too when I was young. Sarma was always the best. Maybe my Mom will come and visit me in the new house I just worked so hard for and cook me Sarma and pilaf. After all, I am her first-born son, it was always my favorite, and she hardly ever comes here to see me and her baby grandson.
Yes, the genetic traits are strong in this family.
It's really a small price to pay for this double chin and all this fucking hair.
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Keep your day job. That way, you can pay for the lamb. Let me know when the MIL-quarters are set up and I'll be down!
ReplyDeleteBWAHAHAHAHAHAHA @ the back sweat posture thing. Maybe you found a cure for Steve? Shit, he probably reads this, huh? Damn it. Oh well.
ReplyDeleteSee? The Sarma's the Yin and the sweat&hair are the Yang. Way to be in perfect harmony with the Armenian universe!
ReplyDeleteThere is no harmony in the Armenian Universe. In fact, there is no music at all...just the sound of people weeping.
ReplyDeleteand eating. eating and weeping. It sounds a little like The View.
ReplyDelete