Movin' on up

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been getting all of my ducks of higher education in a row: my mascot scholarship from the Florida Marlins and the Florida State Baseball Association, my application to the University of Florida, my early decision contract to UF, my application for on-campus housing, and my letters of recommendation.

And I’ve decided that even though I really enjoy the rigidity and simplicity of the high school routine, I am really, really looking forward to college.

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Identity Crisis

Because Palm Harbor University High School was opened only 10 years ago, it is essentially devoid of any tradition or culture. In an attempt to change that, I approached Dr. Brown yesterday about the possibility of investing in a mascot that could be present at our school’s sporting events and the like. He met the idea with little opposition and said that, pending approval from the football coach and the administrator in charge of athletics, the school would probably be able to drop $4,000.00 towards the creation of a professional mascot outfit.

That was the easy part.

Our school is the home of the Hurricanes. Now tell me, what kind of mascot could one wear to represent a hurricane? The University of Miami has “Sebastian”:http://umsis.miami.edu/~rlangel/Traditions.htm, the Ibis; The Carolina Hurricanes have “Stormy”:http://www.carolinahurricanes.com/canesworld/stormy.asp, the Ice Hog; it seems that to make a costume an actual round hurricane would be impractical and really, really lame.

So, I’ve been asking around and here are some suggestions:
* A pirate (The school’s original mascot was going to be Captain Storm, until the administration nixed the idea.)
* A bird of some sort (UM folklore states that the Ibis is the last bird to leave before a hurricane and the first to return.)
* Poseidon (This fellow, while not the Greek god of storms – that’s Zeus’ domain – is the god of the ocean, which could apply readily to the whole hurricane theme.)
* A palm tree (This was Egle’s contribution, and Doug drew a gnarly schematic during our math class yesterday. I liked it until I got a general reaction from a few students who said it would be stupid.)

I have no more ideas.

So, please, throw out some wisdom, lest you get stuck with Tempest the Tree all season:

!/textpattern_g119/images/114.jpg!

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Chance taken

If you talk to anyone who has known me for more than four minutes, they’ll all tell you the same thing: out of general principle, I am diametrically opposed to most (if not all) forms of affectionate interaction. I say this just to give a general idea of how far I actually went out on a limb this morning.

Every morning, I go to the local Krispy Kreme and order a medium bold coffee (with whole milk and three sugars) before I pick up my carpool (which, by the way, is very funny when Angus tries to get into my super-cramped backseat). I’ve gone every weekday since the start of school and have become quite the regular – most of the time, the lady who serves me every day only charges me 50 cents instead of the usual 99.

But for some reason, today I was driven to change my scheme. Instead of pulling up to the speaker box in the always empty drive thru lane and saying the usual line (“Just a medium bold coffee with whole milk and three sugars, please”), I decided to call her by the name that I had noticed on her name tag two days prior.

“Good morning, Debbie – I’ll just have my medium coffee with who-”

She cut me off and said, “Okay, pull up, sweetie pie.”

My friends, it seems that such a personal remark worked in my favor. Instead of a cup of coffee and the newspaper that comes with it, Debbie treated me to a doughnut in addition to my usual order. It was hot and delicious. Probably even more delicious because it was free.

Either way, this could be a lesson: once you’re comfortable with a person, once you’ve gotten to know them, once you’re no longer threatened by their strangeness, feel free to take that extra step and refer to your fellow human by name.

It might get you a free doughnut.

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The one that got away

The other night, there was no milk in the house. This does not bode well for a certain pair of parents I know, as they enjoy a few cups of milked-up coffee every morning. So, they sent me out to the store with three dollars to pick up a quick gallon before I went to bed.

I traveled two blocks to the local Walgreen’s, whereupon I was able to find a gallon of whole milk on sale for less than two dollars. I took it from the freezer and made my way to the cashier.

She was a nice looking girl of about twenty two. Not too tall, and certainly not worthy of such a menial position as a cashier at a twenty four hour drugstore. Either way, I gave her my milk and proceeded to pay her. Thus began one of the sadder confrontations of my life.

She asked, “Do you want your milk in a bag?”

“No, it’s already…”

I was stumped. I didn’t want a bag. But I needed to justify my intentions somehow. So I ended my sentence in just about the stupidest way possible, hoping that she would either ignore my musings or be fooled into mistaking them for humor.

“No, it’s already in a carrying… uh… container.”

I knew it was over for me. My cover was blown, and it was obvious that I had been one quip short of success that night. She immediately and quite sarcastically shot back, “That was a really funny joke. No, really.”

Hoping that we could put the past behind us, I attempted to speed up and move on with the transaction, but to no avail. “No, really. That was _really_ good. You’re a funny guy. Really.”

I thanked her and then left, knowing well that there was yet another woman that would never take me seriously, all thanks to an ill-contrived one-liner.

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Life with Loopy

The belt is a great invention. It can hold up pants, whip disobedient children, and, if you’re a real handyman in a desperate situation, it can even act as a replacement belt in car engines.

But, as with any seemingly benign thing in the world, with the belt comes a certain degree of risk. The risk is not a particularly catastrophic hazard, but since I’m one of the most socially paranoid people I know (and trust me when I say that I know a lot of people), it can harbor some significant psychological perils.

Of course, I’m talking about the rare happenstance when you miss a belt loop. Sure, if you catch it right away as you’re slipping into your old faded Levis, it’s easily remediable. But if the snafu manages to slip you by and you walk out into public with a pair of inadequately accessorized trousers, you’re bound to be noticed. And when that happens, my friend, what is a boy to do?

Knowing that you missed a belt loop following notification from an outlandishly critical public is just about the most vulnerable feeling in the world. How do you handle it? You could excuse yourself and find a corner in which to reassess your attire, but there’s always that interim period wherein you are completely aware of your shoddy dress, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Then again, you could always just unbuckle then and there and repair the misdoings of earlier in the day, but that has the potential of being ill-received, as the majority of the world does share my standard of etiquette (or lack thereof).

Alas, there is no easy answer. However, if I ever unbuckle my belt near you, please don’t take it the wrong way. I don’t know any better.

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