first post - again?
Welcome one and all to my second of three blogs. The first was lost after about three days of page viewing, so I've now resorted to a free blog until the third iteration (my own domain!)
Many will ask questions: "Where do babies come from?" "Why does he keep making blogs no one reads?" "What the hell is with the title?" Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can answer one of those questions. The title of this blog will eventually be the same as my domain, so I want consistency. As for why the title is what it is, that's an entirely different story.
About two years ago, I lived in Rochester, NY. Yes, a far cry from my current squalor, desolate surroundings. Every week or so my then-roommates and I would go out to a restaurant, and since I'm a loud bastard, I'd reserve the table.
During one of these outings, I went up to the attractive hostess (as if they hire ugly ones) and said plainly, "table of four for Larry" assuming my name was unique enough to get a table.
"What? Jake?"
Meh, the music's loud. She probably can't hear.
"TEWKSBURY!" There's no way in hell she can't hear me now.
"What? JAKE?!"
At this point, I'm convinced that the restaurant's an equal-opportunity employer. They've hired a deaf and retarded girl to seat people. "Tewksbury" is to "Jake" as "apple" is to "thermonuclear toast." Fuck it.
"Yeah, Jake. You got it."
And to this day, whenever I'm in charge of giving a name for a table list, I say Jake. The strangest part is that this hasn't created any confusion - not even once. Apparently everyone's naming their kid Larry these days.
Many will ask questions: "Where do babies come from?" "Why does he keep making blogs no one reads?" "What the hell is with the title?" Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can answer one of those questions. The title of this blog will eventually be the same as my domain, so I want consistency. As for why the title is what it is, that's an entirely different story.
About two years ago, I lived in Rochester, NY. Yes, a far cry from my current squalor, desolate surroundings. Every week or so my then-roommates and I would go out to a restaurant, and since I'm a loud bastard, I'd reserve the table.
During one of these outings, I went up to the attractive hostess (as if they hire ugly ones) and said plainly, "table of four for Larry" assuming my name was unique enough to get a table.
"What? Jake?"
Meh, the music's loud. She probably can't hear.
"TEWKSBURY!" There's no way in hell she can't hear me now.
"What? JAKE?!"
At this point, I'm convinced that the restaurant's an equal-opportunity employer. They've hired a deaf and retarded girl to seat people. "Tewksbury" is to "Jake" as "apple" is to "thermonuclear toast." Fuck it.
"Yeah, Jake. You got it."
And to this day, whenever I'm in charge of giving a name for a table list, I say Jake. The strangest part is that this hasn't created any confusion - not even once. Apparently everyone's naming their kid Larry these days.
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