Finally Made it to Friday

Week...passing...so...slowly.

At the risk of sounding like an 80s cliche, thank God it's Friday. It's a good thing I was listening to NPR this morning, because they announced that Congress passed a bill that specifically required my personal motivation to increase at least enough to get my sorry a$$ out of bed. I'm not saying they passed some random bill that aligned with my morals and made me feel good, I'm saying the bill was worded as "Old Coot, your mood and motivation shall improve at least enough for you to get out of bed." The Sheriff was at my door with a hard copy mere minutes later, thank God I was already out of bed.

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Third Thursday

Prior to my Thursday Night Run, I received an e-mail from one of the guys letting me know he wouldn't be at the run and not to wait for him. When I mentioned it at the meeting spot, someone said "Oh, he must be at Third Thursday with his people." There was no further explanation, so I said "Yeah, must be."

What the hell is Third Thursday? And aren't we his people? I assumed it was a Jewish thing, which is sort of my go to answer when I can't explain why people are doing things I don't understand. Typically, it is a Jewish thing so it's usually a safe bet. They do a lot of things that we non-practicing Christians don't know about. And with a name like Third Thursday, it very well could have some religious base to it.

After the run we were trying to figure out where to eat, and someone suggested we go to Third Thursday, then pick a place downtown to eat. At this point I had to admit my ignorance and ask what the hell Third Thursday was. It turns out that all summer they've been holding this thing downtown on the third Thursday of every month (hence the name) where all of the shops and restaurants and whatnot had musicians playing, tables set up, wares to sell; all kind of shit was going down. It was a real nightlife on North St. (from 5-8 PM). Who knew?

We got there towards the end, but there were still people everywhere, and not the North Street regulars who are covered in boils and oversized t-shirts. We dined on burritos, empanadas and freshly brewed iced tea at a table on the sidewalk outside of Pancho's (154 North St.) and just enjoyed the evening. What a great idea! Too bad I didn't find out about it until what's probably the last one.

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YKK Failure

The next time you're wearing clothes that have a zipper, take a second to look at that zipper. Chances are, it's made by YKK. As a matter of fact, short of buying some shoddy piece of disposable apparel I can't think of anything that doesn't have a YKK zipper. Except my favorite khakis.

I won't delve into where and how I noticed, but the other day I saw that my Old Navy khakis have, get this, an Old Navy zipper. Really. My first thought was that I got jipped, and that I wasn't really sure I could trust this zipper the same way I'd trust a YKK branded fastener. My mistrust was not misplaced...

The next day (yes, I wear the same pants more than once in a row) I was walking to the cafeteria looking dapper in those same khakis, a nice shirt and a tie (it was Shirt and Tie Thursday after all), when this guy says to me "Hey, lookin' sharp. Your barn door's open." At the time I remember thinking that after a few and a half decades of wearing pants, there's no reason to get caught with your fly open. But maybe there was a reason...

I deflect all blame from me onto the Old Navy zipper. I claim wardrobe malfunction; I am not at fault.

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Over and Out,
Old Coot