Career change

Last night Jen and I went to get our nails done in this place in the mall that had a flowing wall of water and gentle new age music playing. As I chatted with my manicurist and watched other women get pampered, whether it be a pedicure complete with foot massage, nail polish application, or some other procedure to make one feel beautiful, it became very clear to me that I never wanted to leave. Just like I feel when it comes time to leave the warm enclosure of my parent's home, complete with food and good wine, trips to the bay to do nothing but watch movies and the water - last night, too, did I feel the sadness at having to give up something I love. The employees all had perfect eyebrows and nails and were making every single customer happy. They were adored and I wanted to bask in that adoration.

Cock U.

Carissa and I met for lunch on Sunday at Brixx Pizza. Bottles of wine were half price that day and so we decided to take advantage of warm afternoon, have a bottle of Chardonnay with our pizzas, and make the gossip and overall relaxing that much more enjoyable. "This," I told her, "is what we did in Italy." Ok, so it's not what we did every day in Italy, and besides that, telling someone that you "did" something while "in Italy" makes it sound like you lived there and not merely visited for two weeks while your little brother was abroad, which was great because you saved money on hotels by sleeping on his floor. This is all besides the point, however, the point being that we did have this one amazing day in Venice, where we stumbled off the train into the supposedly most touristy place in the world and found our way to the most charming and untouristy restaurant where we sat for several hours and had a delicious lunch, complete with a couple carafes of good white wine. There was even a little dog running around the place. Naturally, the flowing wine, great food and atmosphere led J, my little brother Vinnie, and I to discuss things at great length, including, and most memorably, my brother's idea that maybe, just maybe, it would be a good if he could teach a class on his thoughts. The students would come to hear What Vinnie Thinks. "Cocky," I proclaimed, and Vin explained that this was exactly the point. It got philosophical. "If what I think is what I think is right, than what makes it wrong, or untrue?" Cocky? Sure, but students could get into it. J was quick to agree and the two of them had suddenly created this grand masterpiece of a school, dubbed Cock University. Never mind that the "cock" in that phrase doesn't indicate "cockiness" but instead a crude word for the male reproductive organ. They, and even I, decided it had a certain ring, and our fair institute was born. Now, if J gets a little snobby about something I ask if maybe he's going to teach that at Cock U. and usually, because he's already in the mood, he might say something like "Hell yeah!" It's just the nature of that particular university of thought. Applications are currently being accepted in the form of hi-fives and reckless assertions, like, "Fuck you! I'm accepted!"