Friday, October 7, 2011

Contacting The Living

So things have been quiet around this blog lately. I've been out of my normal blogging routine and all the hits I've gotten in the past week have been from electronic cigarette companies wanting me to write reviews on their products because I hang out with a bunch of smokers. Even though these cigarettes can be programmed to taste like everything from pastries to cocktails, I just don't think my blog is the right place for that.

I also think that it makes more sense to just eat a pastry, drink a cocktail, and smoke a cigarette than to mess around with a nicotine-dispensing gadget that supposedly tastes apple fritters and margaritas. But maybe that's a very twentieth century mentality.

Plus, I don't even smoke, so the whole issue of electronic vs. real cigarettes is fairly irrelevant on this blog.

But I digress. I am in my favorite cafe with a large piece of pie and I did not come here to write about the evolution of smoking equipment.

Funny how I was invited out to two different clubs tonight and I chose to wear a turtleneck and update my blog in a coffee shop while stuffing my face with chocolate espresso pie instead. I don't know if this means I'm growing up and becoming more responsible or if it just means I'm suddenly a really boring person. It probably doesn't mean either of those things - it just means I wasn't in the mood to stay out all night at some scuzzy dance club and end up having to be the sober one that drives everyone home at the end.

Gah - I am the boring/responsible one. When did that happen and how do I make it stop?

Responsible or not, I did partake in some interesting shenanigans last week. I have an alliance of sorts with The Night Manager Nerd (my mother always told me to make friends with people who have keys...I don't exactly know if she meant go talk to girls at Pizza Hut for them when they're too shy to do it themselves so that they end up with a hot date and are forever indebted to you, but whatever), so I cornered him when he was outside my window drinking beer and asked him for a favor.

Me: This is going to sound weird, but I'm going to ask you for a favor...
Night Manager Nerd: What's up?
Me: Can you let me into The Chef's old room?
Night Manager Nerd: Uhhh...
Me: I know he moved out yesterday, but they haven't rented the room again yet and he asked a few of us to go in there after he left and perform a cleansing ceremony. You know, with candles and all that crap. But there will only be a few of us and we'll clean up.
Night Manager Nerd: Well, I suppose I can unlock the door and then pretend not to know about it if anything happens...
Me: Cool, thanks!

The cleansing ceremony was a story that The Poet had helped me make up before I went to talk to The Night Manager Nerd. The Chef did not leave a last will and testament that involved hosting a seance in his old room. But we were bored and we missed him, so we decided to say goodbye to him the Blue Mountain way.

Let me back up a little bit.

The Blue Mountain Institute was founded by The Chef and The Fonz last spring. Inspired by The Big-Haired Feng Shui Lady (who made color-coded maps of the building for everyone in an attempt to get us all onboard with Feng Shui), The Blue Mountain Institute was an ongoing joke that threatened to become a reality at various public events. It mocks the new age movement and is just downright absurd. For example, different branches of The Blue Mountain Institute include Eye Contact Therapy (where The Fonz stares at you for ten minutes) and Rebirthing In The Shower Room (a ceremony involving a slip 'n' slide and a lot of ketchup).

There is also a branch for Contacting The Living.

This was The Chef's favorite. He used to make us laugh so hard by sitting at the kitchen table and pretending to contact someone who was in the next room. Maybe you'd have to be there to appreciate it, but it was always hysterical.

So there we were - me, The Fonz, The Fallen Nun, and The Poet - armed with our candles in an empty room that once held an eccentric painter. We passed around a single can of Pabst and solemnly stared at the candles.

The Fonz: Can you hear us, Chef?
Me: I'm getting a reading...
The Fonz: Me too...ohmmmm...
Me: He's somewhere...
The Fonz: A train...a plane...
Me: He's somewhere and he's drunk!
The Fonz: He's drinking a six pack of Rolling Rock!
The Poet: Why do we only have one beer???
The Fallen Nun: *obnoxiously plays an accordion*

I feel as though The Chef would be very proud to know that we attempted to contact him.

I have contacted him in a more reliable, traditional way (email) and learned that he made it to Finland. He's done painting and is going to concentrate on his musical career.

An image of him screaming "LOVE, LOVE WILL KEEP US TOGETHERRRRR" out the window through a cardboard tube immediately came to mind with the words "musical career," but you've got to give him credit for going out and doing stuff. I spend a significant amount of time daydreaming about foreign countries and rock tours and spontaneous leaps of faith, but I am yet to actually make these day dreams happen.

Someday. Things will happen.

Gah. And the award for the weirdest blog post goes to... (drum roll) this lovely thing that you are reading.

Ah well. At least it's not about cigarettes.

1 comment:

  1. Haha. You should see some of the stuff that brings readers to my blog -- the most common being 'Crying Emo Girl' Not sure what that has to do with my blog, but meh.

    I wish I knew someone like the Chef in my life. It's always good to have someone totally eccentric. And I definitely think he would be proud to know you tried to contact him that way ;)


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