Could my cousin want to visit home?  No, can't let her.  I'll say I'm too busy to arrange coming to the house, or I'll be running around all weekend and I can only see you someplace.  But shit, man, can't let her visit the house when it's like this.  That would be bullshit.

Need to make sure I keep her far away from the house.  Maybe I'll lie to keep her from even bringing it up.

I've Given Up And Am Going Out A Lot This Week ... Again

So I've bitched often (though not in the past week like I thought) about "needing" to go out too many evenings in the week.  Man, sometimes I just want to go home from work and fucking stay there.

I was trying to reach some equilibrium with that this week, especially since it's a holiday weekend and you're supposed to just veg out.  But I had to chuck that all out the window.  First it's because of my cousin and her son.  She said that Friday might work, but that's The Official Start Of Summer, and I had plans to go to my speakeasy and ease into this Endless Summer by drinking.  Saturday could work, too, but United FC has a Match in the afternoon, I wanted to relax with pizza and a beer afterwards, and there is the possibility of the English Championship Play-Up Match that morning (I say possibility because as I type this, there is a hearing to determine whether Southampton, one of the teams playing, should be kicked out for spying on Middlesbrough, the club it beat more than a week ago to reach the Final).  Sunday and Monday are a lot freer, but I was hoping to fuck ****e one of those days and stay in the other, and I want to do both so badly that I consider seeing my cousin one of those days, as convenient that it might be, a frustrating spanner in the works.  I don't want to say I would rather not see my cousin, but ...

I'm getting over myself.  For one thing, all this soccer watching is still up in the air; Sunday, for example, is Decision Day in the EPL.  If Tottenham Hotspur is still in jeopardy of being relegated, I'm going out to watch it at a pub that morning, and in that case I probably won't have any time to myself at home this weekend.  Still, I'm looking for some solace, and I have to look to the workweek for that, too.  My plan during the workweek was to go out last/Monday night because I had a gas coupon that was going to expire, so I might as well work on my receipts and eat out.  Tonight/Tuesday night and tomorrow/Wednesday night I would stay in, finally.  Thursday I would, for the first time ever, go out to the State Fair, which now opens for Memorial Weekend.  Then Friday's the speakeasy.

That was all shot to hell when I came home from work last/Monday night.  Taped onto my screen door was a notice from the city.  They're doing something with the main sewer line tomorrow/Wednesday.  Between 8 in the morning and 8 in the evening, I am not supposed to use any water at all in the house.  Well, fuck.  I might as well not go home after work.  So, what to do?  How about go to the speakeasy then?  I don't want to "celebrate" summer two days early, but frankly, it makes a lot of sense to just do this tomorrow/Wednesday night.  Not only would I give the city time to not mess up the house's sewer system, going out (instead of staying in) tomorrow/Wednesday night frees up Friday night for me to hang with my cousin and cousin once removed.  Looking at it that way, a lot of problems get solved.

So I'm being a social butterfly again.  Yippee ... ?

(Aside: I am working the early shift at work today/Tuesday.  I should be in bed instead of blog posting this.  Anyway, if I get done with work early, well, it would theoretically allow me to go exercise at a decent hour in the evening.  Yeah, golly, I can do that.  But on that announcement by the city, I am supposed to pour water down all my drains in anticipation of this sewer line cut tomorrow/Wednesday.  It may not take up a whole lot of time, but if I'm doing that, I might as well do other chores ... like go through my stuff, finally.  Yeah, I need to get in shape, but if I really want to go home -- well, I should just do this, huh?  Might as well salvage one night to do nothing.)

They're Coming Home Because They Think I Should House The Cousin I Haven't Heard From In Decades

This was going to be a more expansive blog post because my cousin isn't the only person who has reached out to me and wants to see me.  But things had to take a scary bad turn for me, and that's because of my goddamn parents' meddling, again.

I have learned to check the spam texts the hard way.  I lost out on a gig I applied for because the person hiring for the crew texted me, and since this number was not from a trusted contact, it went into the spam folder.  Curiosity was the only reason I checked that folder, and I saw it months after this person offered the gig to me.  What an embarrassment ... and that company hasn't hired me since.  And yet I still go to their hiring board.  I applied for something a couple weeks ago.  And I am checking the spam folder just in case they give me another chance.

Anyway, it was also in this spam folder where I saw a long text from my long-ago cousin to whom I haven't spoken in decades.  She is in town and wanted to catch up on old times.  I will be honest.  She is one of four sisters and brothers my brother and sister and I remember hanging out with from time to time when we were young.  I like this particular cousin the most even though that's based on guesses on what I remember back when we were kids.  The oldest of the four I have problems with; thing is, I don't remember if I ever got into a fight with her.  My memories of interacting with her enrage me now, but I really don't know if she thinks we don't get along.  I just don't want to see her again.

But I need to give family a chance, so I reached out ... as soon as I spoke to My Father, whom my cousin, or "cousin," said gave her my number.  I hadn't spoken to my parents pretty much for the past week, but I finally had reason to ring them up.  And yes, Father said my cousin is the real deal and so gave her my number.  OK, this is not catfishing.  We spoke -- can't say I was over-enthused on catching up, but I want to see if I could see her over the holiday weekend.  We promised to compare schedules the middle of the week.

With that matter kicked down the street, I went to Art-A-Whirl's last day.  And while I was minding my own business, trying to give myself some grace and be a part of a community that I love, I feel a buzzing on my ass.  Father called again.  I took the call while wandering around an art studio.  I should have known they would have called again demanding that I be more "hospitable."  They asked me to ask my cousin if she needed to borrow my car.  She already told me that she and her son (he'll be studying in town for the next several years) have gotten a rental.  They then fucking asked me to open up the house to them.  I told them my cousin and cousin once removed already got a hotel.  I completely fucking lied; I'm pretty sure they have, but I don't know that.  What I do know is that there is no goddamn way in hell I am going to let them stay here if I can help it.  No offense, but fuck no.

The call ended; I don't think My Fucking Parents heard the combination of rage and fear in my voice at the end of the call.  But I kept thinking about them while I was doing my personal art crawl.  Also, I remember that goddamn time they surprised me by coming home and not telling me.  So goddamn scarring; I'll never forgive them for doing that to me.  I know that they suspect that I don't keep the house clean while they're gone.

So that leads me to one conclusion: They're coming home.  They might not tell me.  They might.  But they're coming home.  They think I am so unable to be a good host for family that they will fucking pay the obscene amount a plane ticket costs these days and come home to see if I have cleaned up the house.  By the way, they insisted that I gave them my cousin's phone number, even though I think they already have it.  I can totally believe that My Fucking Parents insisted, if not demanded, my cousin cancel their hotel and car so we can give them housing and transportation.  Fucking weirdos.

I can imagine them booking plane tickets online right now.  Fuckin' A.  The house is a mess, just like I wanted to.  And I need to clean it up in five fucking days to impress one person I haven't seen in decades and another person I didn't know existed until yesterday?  Fuck that shit.  I'm too tired to clean, and I'm too busy to care.  And that's how My Fucking Parents will screw me again.  All because oh-oh-oh, I need to be good hosts for family!!!  I'll bring shame to them if I don't!!!

Fucking hate my parents.

They Stay The Same Age. But Me Getting Older Might Be A Problem After All

So after work last/Saturday night I went to this roast beef place just south of my company.  I was on my way to the Black Hart to see MNUFC play (and lose -- goddamn, what a fucking shit pass to give up the Game-winner).  I really, really wanted to see The Preakness Stakes, but because I decided to stay a bit over to grab even more overtime, I thought I resigned myself that I probably wouldn't make it to the Black Hart to see the race, especially since I had my heart set on getting this place's legendarily good roast beef after work last/Saturday night because it will be the only time in the foreseeable future 1) it would be on my way to doing other things and 2) I would naturally be hungry right after work.

I get there and the cashier taking my order is a beaut.  Fuck yeah, she is gorgeous.  But young.  I think, and hope, not teenager young, but she could not have graduated from college.  Seeing a hot young woman speaking to you, even only because she has to, brightens my day, so I order a roast beef sandwich cheerfully.  And what do you know -- this restaurant actually has a TV.  (I've been to this place before, but it's been years since the last time, so maybe they didn't have a TV then.)  I could relax and let go of my stress because I could see the horse race after all (well, the reception was poor, but at least I saw Napoleon Solo outrace the other horses at the stretch run without the feed cutting out).  I had an excuse to talk to this babe again; this time, I requested the TV be turned on to the Preakness, and because I had a reason to stay beyond eating my sandwich, I ordered french fries too, which I had planned to order until I decided to stay late at work and calculated that even though I couldn't catch the race in time, I should still make an effort to get to the Black Hart as quickly as possible ... which makes no sense now that I typed out that thought.

Anyway ... have no complaints with her service.  In fact, when I ordered fries, she just skipped past the tip screen, which I guess means she likes me ... ?  But it's not as if I could chat her up or anything.  She served me my roast beef and fries, and that was it when it came to interaction.

Still, she is fucking hot.  And as I finally left after eating and watching the race, it just so happened that three young women entered and immediately began speaking to that cashier.  They obviously are friends with the cashier from school who dropped by to chat or eat or both.  They were fucking hot, and unlike the cashier, who had to dress for work, these friends dressed for the hot weather we had and, well, dressed like young women, with their goddamn boner-inducing midriffs hanging out and shit.  If I didn't have to go -- and if I were younger and less savvy -- I would sit down and steal looks at these three babes.

And then I realized that it was most important for me at that time to go because I had plans.  I can say that my younger self would've dropped everything I would've done because ogling these chicks would be an urge I could not get over.  And beyond that, the age gap was so apparent as to be instinctive.  Even if I could assume these women were of college age, they still would be less than half my age.  Could I even think to have small talk with them?  What would we even talk about?  TikTok?  The new Olivia Rodrigo album?  What they're studying?  Finally, from the quick glance I took of the faces and bodies of these three hotties (do people say "hotties" anymore, or am I cringe saying that?) I think ... well, that they all look the same -- with each other, and with the cashier they said hi to.  Maybe if I sat and looked at them for a longer, creepier period of time, I can discern distinct differences.  I mean, they can't be quadruplets.  But am I wrong to think that all young women these days look alike?  I don't think I can say yes, but I'm going to stick to my guns and not say no.

Not going to lie; if I were a lot younger, I would be masturbating to the memory of these four babes.  That feels ... wrong now.  So maybe Matthew McConaughey was also wrong in Dazed And Confused -- even though what his character is saying would now be construed as Trump Disease:

Working Five Days, Being Paid For Eight!!!

Damn, I am racking up the overtime this week.  There always seems to be work that takes me past eight hours.  But the combination of extra work in all the positions I work, plus being asked to stay late to do data entry, plus one of my co-workers taking this week off, meant that there was a ton of work I had, and could, do -- and I did it.

I have one huge incentive to work as much as I can this week.  My co-worker?  She works Saturdays. The company is really hurting if people don't work on the weekends, so a couple months ago, my boss asked if I could work today in her place -- and OT was available.  I leapt at that chance with the quickness.  Guaranteed time-and-a-half two months before it happens?  That helps me plan ... and anticipate!

And once work made me stay just over ten hours Tuesday and Wednesday, I could envision a scenario where I would work ten hours Thursday and yesterday/Friday.  Even though I worked only and exactly eight hours Monday, staying an extra two hours each day of the rest of my normal workweek meant that I would have worked in extra eight hours by the end of yesterday/Friday.  I would have worked only five days, but 48 hours.  Now, add in today/Saturday.  I might be able to stay for OT, but actually, I want to leave in time to grab dinner and then watch The Preakness and then the MNUFC Match.  But even if I stay just eight hours today/Saturday, that means I would have worked over 56 hours this week.  That's an extra 16 hours of overtime, and at time-and-a-half, that means I would be paid the equivalent of 24 bonus hours this week!  I am working six days, but working the equivalent of seven days, and then getting paid the equivalent of eight days!!!

This doesn't beat the week I worked more than 80 hours wondering if I could get double time after I reached that point.  (In case I didn't blog post that, I didn't.)  But I don't remember the last time I worked so much in a week since then.  And I need every single bonus penny I can get from the overtime.  Gas is expensive now!!!

Eating Out Of Order

By that I mean that, pretty much all my life, once I eat something I consider light or dessert, that's the last thing I'll eat that night.  I've just never thought I could, or at least should, eat anything else, and especially anything that would be polar opposite of that light snack or that dessert.  It just shouldn't be done -- else there would be chaos.

I have breached my rule the last two nights, and I feel bad about it.  Wednesday night, after suffering through a lethargic Loons Loss, I went home and ate several Girl Scout Cookies.  But I had to stay up to do the WMNSS.  While going through it, I felt my body telling me to go to bed immediately.  However, I had to stay awake to finish the survey, and I then developed this hunger for the deli meat I had in the fridge.  So, even though I ate dessert (the Girl Scout Cookies), I went into the fridge and and pulled out one piece of ham and one piece of roast beef and wolfed both down.  And they hit the spot, ngl.

Last/Thursday night, after a long and stressful night at work, I went home, downed a snack pack of Chex Mix, then made myself a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich, which was the only thing I was planning to eat for the night (and I was going to chase it with what turns out to be the remaining amount of milk I have).  But dammit, I got hungry, and so I finally ripped into one of the two pizza Lunchables I bought from the discount store close by me.  It was time I tried these for the first time; when I was young I was obsessed with the original Lunchables, where I would stack the cracker, meat and cheese in different orders.  But pizza?  Never had it till just this past evening, and though I wouldn't say it was the best pizza I've ever had, I didn't mind it at all.  I just feel weird, and wrong, to eat pizza after I ate a PB&J, which I consider both a light snack and, in some frames of mind, dessert.  Can I break free from my wrong order-eating sins tonight/Friday night?

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Twins (Last Week: -3).  My fucking God, what a miserable sports week it's been for Minnesota.  So bad, in fact, that after looking at all the records, it is the fucking Twinks, of which I saw a highlight of one Twinks Pitcher (don't remember who) airmailing a pickoff throw to Second Base, has to be the best team this screening Week.  Sad, really.  But they went 3-3, and those three Wins came in consecutive Games Saturday, Sunday and Tuesday, the first two of which gave them the series Win over Division-leading Cleveland.  They're still in a three-way tie with Kansas City and Detroit for third, or last.  But this Week, that's enough to climb to the top.

They finish their series at home versus Miami this/Thursday afternoon.  They then host The Bastard Seattle Pilots thrice over the weekend and Houston for a trio beginning on Monday, completing a nine-Game homestand.

#-2: Lynx (NEW SEASON!!).  So they Lynx, who've lost half their team and is without superstar Napheesa Collier until June due to double ankle surgery, began their season Saturday night at home vs. Atlanta.  First Round Draft pick Olivia Miles is the wizard many thought she would become.  There were five or six passes she made that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.  She may be a keeper.

Unfortunately, Miles doesn't yet have a jumpshot.  Also, the reason I hated the Lynx drafting her over Awa Fam (who went third to Seattle) is her unwillingness to play Defense, and besides the Steals she accumulated on the Dream, she was largely a door saloon.  Blowing a 15-Point Halftime lead to lose at the very end of the Game isn't solely her fault; after all, they went on the road and defeated Phoenix, the club that eliminated them last Year, for their first victory in 2026.  But I was at that Loss, and seeing the wheels slowly and then quickly fall off the team is something I begrudge whenever a local team blows a lead and eventually loses.  You might as well tank.

At The Bastard Detroit Shock tonight/Thursday night, hosting Chicago Sunday.

#-3: Timberwolves (Last Week: -1).  Can't say I feel comfortable that the T-Wolves will somehow pull off the series Win over San Antonio.  Victor Wembanyama is growing into the alien form many are projected him to become.  And at many points this series, the Spurs have acted like they are the better team.  And yet, while the Wolves are down 3-2, they have tomorrow/Friday night's Game 6 at home to make this series go the distance.  It should be noted that in both of Minnesota's Wins, the margins of victory were two and five Points.  In two of three Spurs victories, San Antonio routed them by 38 and 29.

#-4: Gopher baseball (Last Week: -2).  Lost two-of-three at home to Michigan.  They actually mercy-ruled the Wolverines in Friday's opener, 13-1 in seven Innings.  But then they lost 9-8 Saturday and 8-5 Sunday.  So the Gophers are in a three-way tied for tenth place in the B1G.  The top twelves teams make it to the conference tournament (which, by the way, is configured in a way I've never seen before: The lowest eight Seeds play double-elimination with each other until four schools are bumped off.  The remaining four Seeds play the top four Seeds in a single-elimination knockout round that begins next Friday).  The only way the U. doesn't make it is if they lose all three Games this weekend and the team in 13th place, Michigan St., sweeps.  The chances of that nightmare scenario happening gets raised a bit once you learn that for their last Games of the regular season, they host 24th-ranked Nebraska this weekend.

#-5: United FC (Last Week: 0).  My fatigue is really setting in, so my grandiose essay about James Rodriguez will have to either wait or be forgotten.  But let me say I finally saw him on the Allianz Field pitch, and even though MLS still hasn't shed its reputation as the equivalent of a retirement home, seeing James make pinpoint passes no one else could see and thus prove he is one of the five best players in MLS doesn't get me up in arms.  The pair of Assists he dished out in the 2-all Draw Sunday vs. Austin at home were sublime.  Too bad he couldn't score in last/Wednesday night's droll affair versus Colorado.  The Loons got an xG of 1.50, but got shut out, 1-0.  Meanwhile, the Rapids accrued an xG of .45, and yet scored on a breakaway.  xG has always seemed to be sus.

At New England Saturday.  That's three Games over the course of a week.

#-Infinity: Wild (Last Week: -1).  I really don't want to give these assholes more oxygen than they can waste.  But with their backs against the wall and playing in an hostile environment, the Mild blew a 3-0 lead to The Bastard Quebec Nordiques and lost Game 5 and the series in Overtime, thus sending them to Cancun.  I'm just glad I was able to see a disaster (MNUFC's defeat) in person that served as a distraction from seeing a different collapse (the Mild) in real time.

What now?  Kirill Kaprizov's mammoth contract kicks in next season.  Quinn Hughes might be asked to be traded.  And the most promising roster in Wild history has fallen short, again.  Do you know the precise moment when the Wild were eliminated from postseason play?  Of course, it's Bill Guerin inviting dirty dumbfuck Kash Patel into the Team USA men's hockey locker room to get drunk on piss beer!  They were damned from that point on.

Is BBQ Supposed To Give You So Much Regret?

So last/Tuesday night after work (and after dropping off my property taxes), I went to this barbecue place relatively close by that I have heard a lot of good things about.  And I love BBQ, so I looked through reviews to see what people really liked -- and I tried pretty much all of the best recommendations, namely this place's pulled pork, ribs, brisket, and mac 'n' cheese.

It came in a relatively small tray.  I thought I would conquer it with ease.  In fact, all the items I bought were essentially half-orders, and looking at what I got, I regretted that I didn't go with full orders like I originally wanted.  Wow, was I wrong.  I finished up with the ribs, and the last two bones felt like climbing the sheer face of a mountain vertically.  After starting up just fine I hit a wall out of nowhere, and I can't help but think that the Unforgivable Wetness of 20 or even ten years ago would've wolfed all that down and ordered the same thing again.

No meat sweats, but even now I feel so logy, let alone fat.  All that meat felt good going down my throat, but now that all of that went through my stomach (and sure, my intestines, too), my tummy aches.  And I'm scared it's going to ache tomorrow.  How can I regret eating such good barbecue??

So Mother said I had to pay property taxes on the house, and they're due at the end of the week.  Also, because she's paranoid, she wants me to personally deliver the check to the receptionist at the county government building.  I would do that if I could get out of work in time.

Saw my schedule when I came to work yesterday/Monday.  The only time I get out of work early (and thus go into work early) is tomorrow/Wednesday ... and dammit, that's when I have to go to the United FC Match playing that evening.  Well of course I would be scheduled to leave work early on a day that I shouldn't.  I sure as hell won't schlep all the way up to the county building only to go back down, pass my workplace, and to the Match.  That's a lot of driving, and I am not going to drive everywhere, especially with gas as expensive as it is now, thanks, Trump.  Moreover, I wish I would've gotten my schedule before I left work on Friday.  Sometimes my boss is able to release the following week's schedule by then.  If she did, I could check back with her and ask to work an early shift on a day other than tomorrow/Wednesday.

Best thing I can do it push my workday tomorrow/Wednesday down a half-hour.  Assuming we'll be offered overtime to key, I could just flow from work to Allianz Field without worrying about excessive downtime, which is what I could be facing otherwise.

Oh, wait ... I'm talking about my property taxes, aren't I?  So yeah, I have no time to personally hand my check over to someone.  Best I can do is drive up there well after afternoon rush and drop my check off at a drop box.  Hope I can find this box.  And I hope Mother will understand, but she won't, so I'll lie about not handing the check over to a human being or something.

Dealing With Too Much E-Mail

I tried.  OK, I kind of didn't.  I had the occasional impulse to go through my e-mails and see which ones I wanted to read and which ones I could delete.  But once that urge went, it didn't, or hasn't come back for months, if not years.

At its worst, I had 100,000 unread e-mails unread in my main inbox.  Nearly all of them are political donation e-mails, and goddammit, I totally regret ever donating to those campaigns, though I'm mad mostly because my side lost.  But the donation e-mails haven't stopped.  There was a time I could go through every single e-mail that I got each and every day.  But once those donation e-mails hit my inbox, I couldn't.  So I thought I could let it go for one day ... except one day became two, and then it became a week, then a month, and then 100,000 unread e-mails.

What finally forced my hand several months ago was that Yahoo! Mail said I was bumping up against my storage limit.  Though theoretically I would eventually have to worry about the limit with all the non-political e-mails I still have in my inbox since Day One, it's all those fucking donation e-mails that have taken up all my storage space.  So, with the proverbial gun cocked and aimed at my head, I finally had the excuse to say fuck it, I'll just delete e-mails without looking at them.

But how to do that?  Going through individual e-mails to make sure they were political ones defeats the purpose of a mass delete, so I went with deleting by keyword.  But which one?  I wasn't feeling a sense of urgency.  But I knew, deep down, that I wanted to just get under this limit as quickly as possible, so I just wanted to find one keyword, zap all the e-mails with that keyword even if some innocent and non-political ones get swept up, and be done with it.

I profess I didn't think too long and hard over the one word I decided to use -- "donate."  It seemed to be the one word in every political e-mail I had.  After all, the point of those e-mails is to ask for money.  So I searched for "donate," clicked the all e-mails box, and deleted away.  Yahoo! Mail gives you a box with a final warning.  In this case, it told me that I was going to delete, say, 100 e-mails -- and then gives me the option of deleting, like, 10,000 more e-mails that also have the word "donate" somewhere in the body.  And I'm all, OK!  And Yahoo! Mail actually had to take a few minutes, but those 10,000 e-mails were gone ... and yet there were more even more e-mails in my inbox that had the keyword "donate" but weren't deleted yet.  So I had to go through this cycle two or three more times before it apparently found and killed off all the e-mails with "donate."

Got to be honest: I'm happy.  I was never going to go through the e-mails in the way my ideal self wanted to because I simply didn't have the time nor the inclination.  This massive kill-off is untidy and inaccurate, but it quickly got me down below the limit.  And I had bumped up against that limit a couple more times not too long after this first time, but I guess I had more e-mails with "donate," so zap! they went.  Finally, I'm under, and hopefully for good (so long as I get rid of the political e-mails that will infect my inbox after I die).  I know that I will be sentimental for e-mails that I really, really wanted to keep but unfortunately had "donate" somewhere in the body of that e-mail ... that is if and when I ever realize they're gone.  But I finally dealt with too much e-mail in a way that, if I were telling the truth to myself, I really like and wanted to do.