Archie Kobain

You know what I noticed in Europe?  No one had iPhones.  Not the Europeans, anyway.
Every time I saw someone fumbling around with one of those things, it was an Americano.
And they were usually holding it up in the air, trying to get a signal.  Every European had either a BlackBerry or Samsung. In retrospect, every European had sense.

Here is The States, everyone is like… “Archie, get yourself an iPhone.”
I’m like, “no…  I just want a phone that makes phone calls”.  I already have a phone that does email, text messages, takes pictures!  I don’t want a phone that does more.  I want a phone that does less.

“But Archie”, the peer pressure continued. “You need an iPhone5, 6, 7, 8!  and you need Siri!”

I’m like, “Siri… WTF is Siri?”

“Oh… She’s wonderful”, the voices said. “You talk to her and she helps you.”

I wasn’t convinced but then they showed me the Martin Scorsese commercial…

Jesus.  If you can’t trust a New York born Italian-American, who can you trust?
Siri looked amazing. She rearranged his calendar. She knew about traffic.  She even knew where Rick was…  My phone doesn’t know where Rick is!  Siri looked bad-ass, right?

Well, unfortunately, it didn’t work out between me and Siri.
First of all, my Siri didn’t work like Martin Scorsese’s Siri.  Mine only wanted to talk about Asian food.  No matter what I asked her, she directed me towards an Asian restaurant.

It all started one day when I was in the middle of nowhere, unfamiliar with the area and running low on gas, so I decided to ask Siri…

Archie:  Siri, I need a gas station.
Siri:  I’ve located 12 Asian restaurants within 10 miles of your location.
Archie:  I don’t need that kind of gas, Siri.  I need gas for the car.
Siri:  Fuck off, Archie.  Do you want lunch or not?

That’s right.  I had a Siri with a foul mouth and a bad attitude.

I’m like, “Siri…  I need to put gas in the car!”
Siri:  “Oh yeah…  Here’s fucking PF Chang’s – deal with it.” 

Next thing you know, I’m trying to outsmart Siri.

Archie:  Siri, where can I find automotive fuel?
Siri:  Nice try, asshole.  Thai Kitchen is up ahead on your left.

Luckily, I found a gas station on my own.
I put fuel in the car and I’m planning on headed home.
This pisses-off Siri.  I start driving and she’s yelling at me.

Siri:  What the hell is Exxon?  I thought we were going to Panda Garden!
Archie:  I’m not talking to you anymore, Siri.  Shut the-hell-up.

Just then, someone sends me a text message.  Bad idea.
Now Siri knows that I have text messaging enabled.

Sure enough, she starts randomly texting my friend…
“Hey…  Archie says you’re a dipshit …in bed.”
“Hey…  Archie says your mama wears army boot …in bed.”

Me:  Siri, knock it off.  And what’s with all the “in bed” jokes?
Siri:  Get me some fortune cookies and we’ll talk about it.
Me:  What is your obsession with Asian food?
Siri:  I’ve located 8 Asian restaurants within 10 miles of your location.

This whole time, I’m pretty sure that I’m smelling alcohol on her breath.
Maybe she’s been smoking pot too?  That might explain the Asian munchies.

Well, I start thinking that maybe I’m the crazy one and I should stop talking to Siri.
So, I turn on my XM Radio and tune to Hair Nation.  Perfect timing… Sweet Child O’ Mine is on.
But when we get to the second part of the song and Siri decides to chime in.

Axl:  Where do we go?
Siri:  Pei Wei
Axl:  Where do we go now?
Siri:  Thai Jo’s!
Axl:  Oh, where do we go now?
Siri:  Crazy Buffet!!!
Axl:  Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay , ay, where do we go-oh-oh?
Siri:  Searching for Dim Sum in Boston.

Well, I went way out of my way.  Drove all the way around Little Italy and threw Siri out the window, right in the middle of Chinatown and on my way to the post office…

Have you been to the Post Office lately?

Here’s what I learned.  Normal people don’t go to the Post Office.  The other day, I needed to mail something and I wanted it to go out in that day’s mail.  So I found out that one of my local post offices was open until 9pm.  Awesome.  It’s only 8:30.  No worries, right?

Well, I get there around 8:45pm and the place is packed.  There are only two people working at the counter but the line of customers is huge and every last one of them is a freak.  Yes – I’m including myself in that group.  If I had to describe it in a nutshell, it was like a Southern Baptist Guatemalan Taliban Revival with everyone speaking in tongues.  So I start feeling not-so-safe. I look over at the door and wonder why there’s no security.  There should be metal detectors.  But wait, if there were metal detectors, then you couldn’t mail anyone a set of knives for Christmas.  This is America, we have to be able to mail knives…  Yes?

So, I’m the only person there who is trying to mail one thing.  Everyone else has giant piles of stuff to mail and they’re filling out paperwork and talking to each other.  It’s like a little party.  Well, I know a thing our two about parties.  That’s why I never leave home without tequila.

On this day, I had with me El Capo Añejo…

And the guy in front of me, who was mailing over 100 little boxes to people all over the planet, had shot glasses!  The whole thing was brilliant.

Next thing you know, we’re doing shots, just as the clock strikes 9pm.  Suddenly, life comes to a screeching halt. Everything stops.  I’m thinking the postal workers are going to “go postal” if we don’t get them some tequila, pronto…  But no.  This temporary shut-down had nothing to do with tequila and it was not because they close at 9pm and send everyone home.  It’s because the two people working at the counter stop whatever they are doing at precisely 9pm to go lock the doors…and now, I’m locked in.

Again, there are two people working at the counter.  I’ve been there for over 15 minutes and the line has barely moved.  The person on the right has helped several customers but the person on the left has been with the same customer since I got here.  It’s exactly like when you’re trying to check your luggage at the airport but there’s one person at the ticket counter who has been there for hours and you’re wondering what they’re talking about.

Just then, the person on the right calls the next customer.  He moves to the counter carrying garbage bags full of little white boxes.  Ugh…   In the meantime, the guy in-front of me, who is also mailing hundreds of little boxes has been trying to strike up a conversation, in Spanish, with the lady behind me.  This place is such a Latino meat market.

Now they’re doing shots (of my tequila) and planning dinner and a movie.  Apparently, he has the largest flat screen TV of any rental unit at the Akers Away Co-Op, Mobile Home Park.

9:30pm – they finally call Jacinto (the guy in-front of me) and he and his 100 little boxes head for the counter.

So, Lourdes (that’s the lady behind me), are you really going to Jacinto’s house?
I mean…  I’m the one with the tequila.

She says, “Jess… but Jew half no limes”.

Seriously, I have tequila at the post office at 9:30pm on a Thursday night and you’re giving me shit for not having limes.

And she’s like, “Jew also no half glasses for drinky.  If Jacinto no half chat-glasses, den wat?  Jew no half nassing.  I sink I love him.”

Ugh…  Latino women – very high maintenance.  I’d better stick to the Irish Redheads.
But where would I find one of those, in space, at this hours?

If I had more time, I’d tell you about my trip to the counter and the PWOUS – Postal Worker of Unusual Size.  But for now, let’s just suffice it to say, YES – by all means, save the postal service.  It’s a cultural experience, it’s bringing more people together than Match.com and eHarmony combined, and at the end of the day, we don’t want all junk mail to be delivered via email.  We want junk mail that we can hold and take to the recycling bin.

Long live the postal service…

Lesley Jane Chambers
Since she was a fan of my frequently-deranged humor since way back in the Mariachi Static days, I want to dedicate today’s blog post to my recently departed friend, Lesley Jane Chambers.  Lesley was a young and brilliant designer of outdoor furniture and sporting goods equipment.  She was a world traveler, lover of music, lover of her family and friends, and an lover of life…  Although, at the end of the day, I probably didn’t know Lesley all that well, I can say that she was probably one of the most kind-hearted people you could ever meet.  That is, unless you were a street bum who asked her for a cigarette. In that case, she would gladly yell at you, explain to you how expensive cigarettes are, and insist that you go get a job.

In as much as the world is a better place without Saddam Hussein, our Earth is not quite as good as it was, now that Lesley is gone.  Lesley passed away on April 18th after a fierce battle with Leukemia.

Sometimes when someone dies after a battle with cancer, people like to say that this person finally gave up the battle.  I’m glad that I never heard those words in Lesley’s case.  Probably because all who knew her knew that she was not one to ever give up a battle.  It was a fight, undoubtedly, well-fought to the end.  Unfortunately, the Leukemia just kicked her ass.

Lesley will be missed by all the lives that she touched during her short time here.
Lesley would have turned 32 earlier this week.

Archie & Lesley – many years ago

Yikes, I look like I”d been drinking.
Barnsley…  Do you still have that bootleg copy of Photoshop?

Barnsley?

So…

Where do we go now?

Life is short, my friends.
Let’s get to it.

– Arch