Ideapad Journal

July 27, 2001 +

Left the girlfriend's apartment a step ahead of her this morning. Left hand: pile of newspapers to recycle and a bag containing leftovers for lunch. Right hand: bag of trash to throw down the garbage chute.

(You can see where this is going, can't you.)

Amy comes out a minute later, after I've left the rubbish room, and asks, "Why haven't you thrown out the trash bag?"

Looks like I'm buying lunch today. At least I won't be asked to take out the trash for a while.


July 25, 2001 +

Somewhere on vacation I wound up with a counterfeit $10 bill in my wallet.

It damn well may be a ten-dollar bill to my eye. The print is top-notch, there's a USA TEN metallic strip down the left, Alex Hamilton is right where he belongs. But there's an odd rip in it -- in the middle, near where it says WASHINGTON, D.C. -- that makes it look more paper-y than bill-y, and only upon close inspection does one notice it has no red threads.

I don't know where I got it or how long I've been carrying it around. I do know that my "money" has been refused by two less-than-impressive neighborhood food establishments, both of whom whipped out their counterfeit bill pens, drew on the ten, and declared it a forgery.

Now, technically, for me to spend this bill now that I know it's counterfeit would be a federal offense, so I'd be incriminating myself if I told you how I—


July 24, 2001 +

Sometimes the inspiration for humorous writing comes from unlikely places.

Like today, for example, when, getting ready for work in the lazy early-morning haze of a vacation hangover, Monday-morning style, I didn't pay much attention while I got dressed, and as a result have spent my first day back at work with my boxer shorts on backward.


July 13, 2001 +

Been quiet round these here parts, hasn't it.

Longtime readers of the Ideapad know that three weeks without a post is not unprecedented. I usually am less compelled to write when I'm content, and between the girlfriend and the job and the weekends out of town, I've hit a lull.

In person, I talk a lot. When I'm happy and excited I basically babble. The same is not necessarily true of my web site. Especially when it's 78 and sunny out all summer.

Never mind words. I can't wait to go swimming.




Ode to the Motherfucker Who Stole My Pants (with apologies to Keats)
That Girl: Unrequited longing on the morning commute
Extra! Extra! Read All About Me: Why I do what I do
Lucky Penny: Because love comes from the strangest places
Never Mind the Hobnob, I Have a 7-10 Split: Reflections on BlogBowl I
How Procrastination Occurs: How a college sophomore writes a paper in one night

Elsewhere on netWert
Ideapad (media commentary)
Auricle (music)

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This was the original Ideapad, an outlet for personal observations, muses and essays. As the Ideapad grew into a weblog the journal spun off in its own direction. Journal entries often chronicle observations of the moment, and are sometimes written in a deliberately obtuse fashion. The essays are more well-rounded and introspective.

This is not a diary.

The history:
The Ideapad debuted on November 1, 1998 and the Journal was separated from the greater 'Pad in March 2000.

Copyright © 2001 David Wertheimer. All rights reserved.