You can't sweat out . . .

I want to ride on a garbage truck like it’s my job

In Winner Winner Chicken Dinner! on February 25, 2009 at 11:47 pm

Last night was an apartment cooling for the ages.

I’ve been to plenty of housewarming parties- people move, people party.  Everyone wants to show off their new apartment after spending a day or two enduring the dreaded moving and setting up process.  This was my first housecooling, on the other hand, an event that lets your friends see the way the apartment looked before you made it oh so homey.  (Sidenote- I thought I just invented the term housecooling, but a quick search of the word on google turned it up in the infamous and spectacular urban dictionary.  Bollocks.)

In the wonderfully clean, freshly spackled apartment, we sat on the floor drinking beers as a lovely couple I happen to know celebrated the end to a year in Manhattan.  At the end of the night they would head to their new home in a fantastic land where a tree grows and the Dodgers once reigned supreme.  But first, one last batch of good times was to be had by all.

Anyway, it started with somewhat awkward small talk before progressing to a five man Either/Or game involving a former German exchange student who went from Munich to Iowa to New York before coming into my life like a brilliant shooting star and posing one of my favorite Either/Or questions to date.  After we explained the rules, der mann came out with the instant classic “garbage man or janitor.”  The first three respondants were mixed, but for me the answer has always been, and always will be, garbage man.

Fact: My first dream job was being a garbage man

Fact: I suggested we name our new puppy Garbage Man

Fact: I was about three years old during the above incidents, but I will always remember how badass the garbage man looked to me, standing on the outside of the truck as he rode to his next pickup

Fact: Sometimes it’s okay to fall short of your dreams

The amiable German, on the other hand, answered janitor, rationalizing that janitors “get to hang out in high schools.”  To which I lost it laughing.  While I appreciated that spin on the question, hanging out with high school girls has never really been that much fun.  I mean, Zack Morris clearly proved that when he and the gang went to talk to cool college girls at The Attic.  And you really don’t get to ride anything cool like if you’re a garbage man, so I gladly took a swig for being in opposition of the originator.

Around this time, three pizzas arrived and for the first time in my life, I was made to feel guilty by a pizza box.  Instead of a jolly Italian man tossing a pizza or the name of a restaurant, the top of each box was an advertisement for the Ab Rocket.  I did not realize when you order one topping, you get guilt on top at no extra charge.  The Ab Rocket, by the way, is only rated 2.5 out of 5 stars and the first customer comment on the review is Don’t Buy This Product.  I don’t know what’s more sad, the fact that the marketers of the Ab Rocket thought pizza boxes would be a profitable venture or that 25 people actually bought one for almost a hundred bucks and then reviewed it.

As Fat Tuesday ended, so did the party, and gathering up every last bit of trash, the apartment was left for a final time.  I’m guessing it will host its next party, a housewarming, in a couple weeks.  It will undoubtedly be a lamer, though perhaps slightly more comfortable, affair.

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  1. There is something scary about your childhood aspiration of becoming a garbage man. If I remember correctly, your Uncle Mike had the same lofty goal. He found nothing more exciting than rushing to the window to watch Mr. Herrick pick up the trash once a week.

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