Another oldie today, as I’m still trying to catch up for some lost writing time owing to the birth of my nephew, Daniel James Miller Jr., last week. This is a post from my senior year of college a few years back, and is the first in a series of tales which are ultimately about my awful cell phone care, though this entry is light on phones.
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Generally speaking, I don’t ask for much in life. I would actually be pretty content with my life if I could just go about it without looking like an asshole on a regular basis, because I’m one of those people that cares way too much about what everyone thinks of him. You know the guy I’m talking about. The pathetic little guy who, with the right of way in his favor, will wave three cars in a row on, just so people who will likely not even throw a courtesy hand will think he’s a swell dude. That guy’s me. So yeah, just not looking like an idiot daily would make me extremely happy. Unfortunately for me, I’m Bobby, so that’s just not an option.
Today’s adventure in Bobbydom came as a result of my broken laptop. While the screen on it had been mysteriously red-tinted for a month or two, it still caught me totally off guard when the screen went dead on me. For a smart guy, I’m not that bright. After finding some help on the ol’ interweb, I set about to fixing it today, only to promptly find my progress halted by those little screws with the ungodly small indentations for the screwdriver. Without the aid of a mini-screwdriver I was fucked, and so I took a trek down the road to Shop Rite to pick me up an eye-glasses repair kit. Cost: $1.92 post tax. Now, it bears mentioning that I spent last weekend in Atlantic City for Jim and Dan‘s fights, and when they pay you in AC, they don’t exactly do it in whatever’s convenient for you. They pay you in as few bills as possible. That’s how I found myself standing in the checkout line with two bills in my wallet, a $1 bill and a $50 bill. Continue reading