03.03.11 – a thursday

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colloquialism [kuhloh-kwee-uh-liz-uhm] n. 1. a word or phrase appropriate to conversation and other informal situations 2. the use of colloquial words or phrases


Alexander Graham Bell (1847), Beatrice Wood (1893), Jean Harlow (1911), James Doohan (1920), Doc Watson (1923), Perry Ellis (1940), Jennifer Warnes (1947), Tim Kazurinsky (1950), Robyn Hitchcock (1953), Ira Glass (1959), Jackie Joyner-Kersee (1962), Tone Loc (1966), David Faustino (1974), Jessica Biel (1982)


In the past when someone told he’d lost his cell phone, my immediate reaction was always incredulity. It was tantamount to forgetting to wear pants to Thanksgiving, or leaving your hunting rifle at home when spending the weekend at the Palin residence. How could anyone, in this day and age, misplace their cell phone?

And then this past Tuesday happened.

I’m a bartender and my clothes go through a lot of wear and tear so I frequently need replacements. So Tuesday afternoon, I left a little early to swing by Target for new shoes and pants. When I got to work, I immediately went downstairs to change into my new duds and then headed upstairs for my shift. I reached into my pocket to switch my phone to silent as I always do but it wasn’t there. I searched my jacket. No phone. I went back downstairs to where I got dressed. No phone. I concluded that I must’ve left the damn thing at home and went about my business.

Several hours later, I arrived home and the first thing I did, of course, was search for my phone. It was nowhere to be found. I’d become one of the dozens of people I’d mocked. I was now one of them. And, to put it mildly, I was displeased.

Over the course of the next 24 hours, some startling realities came to light.

First, I never fully realized that I use my cell phone as a timepiece. I always knew that I’m apt to flip it open like a pocket watch and check the time about 15 times per hour but I didn’t understand how displaced I would feel without being able to do so.

Next, the inability to instantaneously text or call whomever I wished was sobering to me. I mean, I’m old enough to remember the days when no one but people like my father had cell phones. The rest of us had to wait to get home before we could get in touch with someone to share whatever it was we thought they needed to know.

The last realization was the worst: Not having my phone made me feel uncomfortable, like something just wasn’t right. It frustrated me that a small piece of plastic filled with microchips had the ability to affect me like that.

So, all the those notions perturbed me, but not actually having my phone was way worse. I tore apart the bedroom, the car, the everything. No phone. Shitty.

I resolved myself to the fact that it was gone. I made plans to go to the Verizon store and get a new one, extremely unhappy that all my phone numbers, pictures, etc. would be lost. I was not looking forward to it.

But, before I did all of that, I decided to go back to the restaurant and look around one last time. And there the little fucker was, underneath the printer tray in the room where I got changed. Just sitting there like, “Hey, where you been?”

So I apologize to all of you whom I’ve ridiculed for doing exactly what I did the other day. It happens. I understand that now.


He is the happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home. ↔ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


Just started listening to Chicago indie outfit Smith Westerns. So far, I like “Weekend.”


I’m absolutely sure this dude needed to get arrested. But we’re in a bit of a gray area here, I think.

→ After reading a story like this, it’s hard to imagine how any out there would want to become a teacher.

→ I’d like to meet the person who bought Justin Bieber’s hair clippings for over $40K just so I can tell people I know the most enormous idiot on the planet.

02.15.11 – a tuesday

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inveigle [in-vey-guhl, –vee-] v. 1. to entice, lure or ensnare by flattery or artful talk or inducements (usually followed by into): to inveigle a person into playing bridge 2. to acquire, win or obtain by beguiling talk or methods (usually by from or away): to inveigle a theater pass from a person


Galileo Galilei (1564), Susan B. Anthony (1820), John Barrymore (1882), Cesar Romero (1907), Harvey Korman (1927), Melissa Manchester (1951), Jane Seymour (1951), Matt Groening (1954), Christopher McDonald (1955), Chris Farley (1964), Brandon Boyd (1976), Conor Oberst (1980)


One of the millstones that accompanies maintaining a daily blog is the constant pressure to find something interesting to write about.

I’ve only recently returned to the euneJeune daily and, breathe easy, I’ve got lots on my mind and many thoughts to share with you folks.

But I want to try something different.

As readers, you all have always been great about giving me feedback regarding my content. Now, however, I’m looking for your feedback to shape the content. At least for the next week or so.

So, here’s how it’ll work. Email me at eunejeune@gmail.com. Tell me what you want me to write about. As long as it’s within reason, no subject will be dismissed. I’m not going to be picky about it but I’d prefer emails instead of blog comments.

All right, I’m excited about this. Looking forward to your suggestions.


I contend that we are both atheists. I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours. ↔ Stephen Roberts


Several months ago, I attended a quizzo in Conshohocken conducted by Mike, a good buddy of mine from college. (Check out his webpage here to see when and where he’s going to be next. His questions aren’t powder puff like some can be and, once you’re in the same room with Mike, you’ll think twice about picking up your smart phone to cheat.) In any case, there was a song-identification portion and he played “Long Time” by The Roots. I’d never heard it before and guessed wrong. (I did, however, take first place overall that night.) Afterwards, Mike told me what song it was and I listened to it about five times a day for the next two months. And I’m still not sick of it.


Yesterday, pitchers and catchers reported to Clearwater FL for the very beginning of Phillies’ training camp. Roy Halladay, Cliff Lee, Cole Hamels, Roy Oswalt and Joe Blanton are, according to more than one expert’s opinion, the best starting rotation in the history of baseball. No pressure, fellas.

→ While I didn’t watch The Grammys (which my buddy Joe says makes me lame) I have been fascinated by the “enraged” Justin Bieber fans who were so upset the little guy was beat out by Esperanza Spalding in the Best New Artist category, they went online, defaced her Wikipedia page and politely asked the jazz musician to comply with simple requests such as, “GO DIE IN A HOLE.” Hey, classy kids, get used to the disappointment. I have a sneaking suspicion this won’t be your last taste.

→ If this Harold Camping character is correct with his prediction about the end of the world, and the rapture, starting on May 21st, I’m going to be pretty unhappy. May 22nd is my birthday. Can’t the universe just hold off for 24 hours so I can at least open my presents?