Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Things
  • Stuff that keeps me awake at night:
  • Remembering how I fell out of a truck on prom night. Yes. Me in all my pink glory FELL OUT OF A TRUCK. I hit the curb. I blame the gold sandals--and the beehive some woman created out of my thin hair. I still bear the scar on my elbow. Do you know what my good friend said when I fell? This is what she said: "HAHAHAHAHA! YOU FELL!" That good friend is accompanying me to my wedding. Last weekend, she bought me cool pencils. I put eraser tops on them and sharpened them all to a fine point. On the night in question, I would have gladly stuck one of those pencils in her eye. Man.
  • Does anyone else talk to herself like I do? Just five minutes ago, I looked up from my computer screen and said, "Is it just me, or is it hot in here?" Like the cat would answer back? No. Okay, even worse, I replied, "No, it's totally hot in here." Concerning? Yes. In keeping with Fritziness? Totally.
  • Grand Poobah Fritz (my dad) quit his job as a fruit cutter at a grocery store to teach English as a Second Language. He reports there is a Bangladeshi woman in his beginner's class who talks all the time--some in English, most in her native tongue. She is not talking to anyone in particular. I think he resents her for being nuts in his class. HA HA, Dad. Do you think he is having memories of tutoring fourth grader Fritz in fractions?

    Dad: So, if you take one apple and cut it in two pieces, what is one of the pieces called?
    Fritz: A semi-circle.
    Dad: Yes, but what amount of the apple is it?
    Fritz: The part with the seeds, which I don't like, so I throw it away.
    Dad: It's a HALF. Say 'HALF'
    Fritz: Dad, I HAVE to get a Popple. Can I get a Popple?
    Dad: Anne? Anne? Can you please suffocate this child for me?
    Mom: The cat threw up again.
    Dad: I quit.
    Fritz: I wore my eraser down. I need a new eraser top.
    Dad: You're not listening to me.
    Fritz: Mom's gonna make me clean up the cat barf.
    Dad: I just wanted a son. A boy, smart in mathematics. Brilliant in golf. But no.
    Fritz: So, um, what about long division?

    The Fritz Cubed
    Fritz Cubed: Fourth Grade. Ardent Reader. Lamest Math Student Ever.
  • I have a blog stalker. She knows who she is. She is sitting somewhere in North Carolina, smirking right this moment, reading my blog. She is another good friend from high school. She used to think that Helen Hunt was her biological mother, and not without good reason. She should totally comment.
  • Senior year of high school: we got to put these little quotes near the index of the annual. Mine said: "DB, KB: TB and DQ 4ever! John: I love you for all eternity!" A month after submitting that, DB went totally nuts, KB and I never returned to Taco Bell or Dairy Queen, and I smashed John's heart into a million different pieces because he looked a lot like that guy in Goonies whose face was all weird. True story. Do I wish I had said something a bit more profound, like, "Hope is a thing with feathers"? Duh. No shit, I wish I had.
  • All of this kind of stuff leads to a poor night's sleep. I'm gonna grab a nap.
Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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