1) I'm zooming around in my car going back home. I try to stay in front of this work truck I'm racing with, and so I change a lane to the left just as the road starts curving to the right. I go with it at a high rate of speed, at least 50, could be 60. I'm leaning to the right as I go with the bend, but then I look at my dashboard and see that the low oil level light comes on. I fucking freak. The road straightens and I slow down, and it goes away. Don't see it light up again the rest of my day. But that compels me not to go anywhere tomorrow and check out the car instead.
2) I usually have lunch before going to "work." But since I want to sleep in, need to save money and punish myself for going to the racino instead of a friend's house on the 4th of July, I just take a can of Pepsi with me. I was done with it for about an hour or so when I went to Dunn Bros. to use my coupon for half-off a Mocha IceCrema. I go to the bathroom to piss. When I open the sink, I usually spit. This time, I was surprised when I noticed that the splashes weren't clear, like water, but brown, like Pepsi. How could that be? I didn't drink that much Pepsi. And even if I did, it wouldn't splash like water drops, which it did here. Did it really come out of my mouth ... or did it somehow come out of the spigot, in which case the municipal water supply needs a thorough lookover.
3) The barista who took my order look a hell of a lot like Richard Ashcroft, lead singer of the British group The Verve (they of "Bittersweet Symphony"). Don't know if I've warmed up to the guy yet -- quiet, cold body language, doesn't smile. Kind of like me, but hey, I'm not a barista, so I can get away with it. Anyway, he doesn't give me my change. It doesn't matter since I would've thrown the change in the tip jar. But I think it's convention that we go through the motions: He gives me my tip, I throw it in the jar or, like some others do, walk away and wave my hand, the international signs for "keep the change." Richard Ashcroft look-a-like does not do that -- he takes my two bucks, closes the register, leaves and prepares my drink. I will chalk it up to momentarily spacing out, not having a vendetta against me. And, to admit, he said he gave me a little more in my Mocha IceCrema. Passive-aggressive, also just like me.
4) Father told me to mow the new sod tomorrow. I decided I would do that this afternoon because it's a good way to discipline myself and not go out and spend money I shouldn't spend. But now I have this compulsion to not do it because My Father told me to do it. I hate being told what to do, especially from My Fucking Father.
5) But then I count all the cash money I keep in my drawer. Even with the bi-weekly moolah Mother gave me tonight, I had ... um, less money than I thought. This compels me to just knuckle under and accede to my dad's wishes to mow the new sod tomorrow. It's either that or, gulp, getting a job.
6) Watched part of the All-Star Game. Watched it mostly because of Joe Mauer and the fact that it's being held in St. Louis, hands down America's True Baseball City. I've been there about a half-dozen times, and I tell you, even if you don't like strip clubs (although they are fantastic), it is a great vacation spot, what with the Arch, all the city's history, the casinos and the underrated nightlife. I decided to watch till they started substituting players, which, per usual, was in the third inning.
7) As I type this I started to feel itchy all over. What the fuck?
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