Pidge-zilla vs. Mothra

Still Feeling Dumb: So after my nice ride back home last night after I realized I wasn't supposed to work, I spent the evening cleaning the house. Around nine or so, I went down the basement to check on some laundry I had down there. The second I opened the door, a huge moth came flying in the door.

Now I have to rewind the story a week or so for this to make sense. I called Amanda one morning after she'd gone to work in the AM and she asked me if I would "please go into the bathroom and find the giant moth" that scared her "half to death" while she was taking a shower. I spent a little bit of time poking around but I couldn't find it. While I was shaving before work a few hours later, here it comes out of the fan...and she wasn't kidding! It is huge! I finally was able to whack it with a towel and get it. Once I opened the door though, my curious cats were in waiting, hearing all the noise.

Fast forward to last night: I'm in the kitchen with the broom, trying to whack this moth and prevent it from flying into the house. Sure enough here comes my cat, Pidge/Pookie/Pookah Bear/Fat Cat (whichever you choose), ready and raring to kill this thing herself. I got a good shot on the moth and it started flying lower, and she jumps about three feet off the ground, paws in the air, and grabs the thing out of mid-air. She starts stamping on it and it flies away, and we are in the cat and mouse game again. I hit it again and it flew near their cat dish. Pidge knocks over the food dish and spills the water bowl trying to get to this moth. She had it too, right under her paws, and looks up at me with this ain't you proud of me pa? look on her face, and the thing still wiggles its way out and flies away. I finally got mad and really gave it a good shot with the broom and it falls onto this shelf that sits directly above the garbage can.

So I figured I've finally got it and I went down to get the laundry. I come back up a minute later and went to shoo the dead moth into the trash. Before I touched it though, I noticed that both my cats (where the hell were you, Chewy?) were sitting there with dialated pupils waiting for the kill...and I push the moth off the shelf. Sure enough, the damn thing flies (well, steered itself while falling) right underneath the stove. So my cats spent the next hour meowing and staring at the stove.

Silly Lady: Oh! I completely forgot to mention this to you folks! One of the funniest hotel moments I've had so far...

I had a woman check into a room about 8:30 pm on Sunday night. Around ten o clock (remember the Witching Hour?) she calls me and tells me she has a big problem.

She tells me that the neighbor to her room had turned up their radio about ten minutes earlier and she was having trouble sleeping. I looked at her room number and noticed something odd: she is bordered by a maintenance closet and our meeting room. I'm at a total loss for words with her. I said, "I will, uh...look into it for you!" She seemed okay with that and I immediately tried to figure out if I'd stepped into The Twilight Zone or something.

I had a few other phone calls, and I finally went to head down to her room...and the phone rings again. I pick it up, and its her.

Guest: Hi, Tony?
Tony: Yes?
Guest: You're going to think I'm stupid.
Tony: Absolutely not! Whats going on?
Guest: Remember how I asked you to tell my neighbor that the radio was too loud?
Tony: Yes, in fact I was just heading down there to...
Guest: Yeah...it was my battery powered clock packed in my luggage. So, uh, you don't have to come down.
Tony: *speechless* Uh *tries not to laugh* Okay! Well, glad to see its *snicker* settled!
Guest: *busts out laughing and hangs up the phone*

Witching hour, indeed.

Focus, Tony: When I was ten or eleven, I started playing hockey alot. Now I don't mean just a little bit, I played roller hockey alot. And whenever I played, I was goalie. And I was good. Started playing with some better players around fifteen, and got better. When I was twenty, I started playing goalie at Evans Skateland, and realized how far behind I was in skills to REALLY good players. And after a while, I got better, as anything in life.

Just two years ago, I noticed something about myself: when I was having really good nights, I started having tunnel vision. Not like, oblivious to everything else, but really really focused. I could just feel it. Almost like someone had turned up my vision. I noticed it alot and on the nights I had that tunnel vision, I was unstoppable. My positioning was spectacular, my hands were fast, and generally I was in a better mood.

I stopped playing hockey last March, basically I was noticing that my knees aren't what they used to be and it started to worry me that I was going to blow out my ACL playing roller hockey for no money with a bunch of nineteen year olds at a rundown roller rink.

Recently, I've noticed this 'tunnel vision' back. It happened every once in a while, but the last two days its on some sort of autopilot. I feel so incredibly focused on everything. The guest paperwork. The credit card types. The greetings. The phone calls. Even the carpet patterns seem to be focused. Its very strange. And I'm not stressed at all. I feel really freaking great. Nothing is bothering me. Nothing is stressing me. I'm feeling very level headed, very responsible, very...something. I can't put my finger on it.

Survey Of The Week: When Amanda and I first got together, she started keeping my maple syrup bottle out of the refridgerator. I noticed it again this morning that I have started keeping the practice of not keeping it in the fridge. And it got me wondering, as silly as it seems, do other people not refridgerate their syrup?

So I've decided to start a poll, which I'll start doing every seven days, with a new question for you folks that read the blog.

Now if you receive this blog directly in your email, you don't see all the fun extra stuff I have on the website. So to participate and make your voice heard, click this link to go to The Tony Times and click on the answer that fits your situation on the right hand side of the page.