Single White Nerd: Frustrated Fragments

Not Michael Kass--he has less hair--but the sentiment is right.

ARGH!  That is the existential cry of one frustrated Nerd.  I’ve started today’s blog four times.  Each time, I get a few sentences in and then run out of steam.  So today you get Blogular Fragments.  Do with them what you will.  Enjoy!

1.  In the Land of Lost Souls:

I go to the Lost Souls Café for a cup of coffee and finds that it’s much more than just a clever name.  The customers are all, in fact, lost.  I sit next to a pair of disaffected 20 somethings who debate the relative merits of opening a muffin shop vs. building a tree house in Topanga on some farmer’s land.  I jot down excerpts from the conversation:

He:  But the muffin shop could really be your entrée into downtown shopkeeping.
She:  I know, but the tree house is, like, permanent.
He:  You could build one downtown.  But without the tree.  Just squat in a building, you know.  I have lots of friends who do that.
She:  Yeah, but I’d be afraid of getting caught.  At least the farmer probably won’t care if he finds my tree-house.
He:  You’ll need a roof.
She:  I can use a tent.
He:  In a tree?
|She:  Whatever.

And so on.  That’s about where I run out of steam on that one.  Maybe it becomes a story about The Single White Nerd realizing that he has no right to judge these squatting tree-housers because he, too, is lost.  Or maybe not so much.  I mean, aren’t we all lost?  Aren’t we?

(pause for dramatic effect)

2.  Bus-taraunt:

This started as a rant about the Food Truck craze sweeping the Southland.  Last week a new “truck” burst on the scene.  Except it’s not a truck, it’s a double-decker bus.  The kitchen is on the first level and there’s sitable space on the second level.  The rant goes on to postulate that at some point someone will come up with the truly novel idea of opening a stationary food facility.  Maybe they can call it a “restaurant.”  People can go in, sit down, order food and eat it while seated in a non-moving vehicle.  Revolutionary!

Mostly I’m just bitter that the food trucks seem to hang out on the Westside more than the Eastside.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

2.  Camp Kids:

I saw a commercial this weekend for an organization called “Camp Kids.”  It featured celebrities and quasi-celebrities testifying to the transformative power of summer camp.

“Camp made me a better person.”
“I met friends at camp that I still keep in touch with today.”
“Camp saved my LIFE.”

Oddly, I remember camp a bit differently.  I remember getting hit over the head with a lacrosse stick.

I remember skipping soccer to play trivial pursuit with my 40 year old, alcoholic counselor.  He went on to rent the Playboy magazine my parents sent me in a care package from me for $2 an hour.

Also I remember my parents sending me an issue of Playboy in a care package.

I remember kissing a girl named Cookie (my first kiss!) behind the barn after a dance.  And then getting a note from her telling me she loved me.  And then seeing her making out with Josh—the guy who hit me over the head with the lacrosse stick—the next week.

Camp did help make me the person I am today.  I’m just not sure if that’s a good thing.  Did you go to camp?  Am I the only one who kind of hated it?

And there you have them:  Three ideas for blogs that could have been.  Any preference?  Happy Monday!