Woke up around noon when my Grandmother knocked on the door. Told me to call my Father. Uh-oh.
When he called me he lit into me -- why aren't you awake, don't you have any sense of "the daytime" (in actual English, why can't you wake up the same time as everybody else), blah-blah-blah. I'm sorry, what do you want, I asked. Nothing, he said. So I hung up.
About 90 minutes later, as I was leaving Smashburger (best of the new burger places that've cropped up in town) when my Father called me. "Are you ready to tell me what you want now?" I asked. He did. He wanted me to help book him a flight to Vegas with the credits he's accrued with Sun Country. I did without a raised voice, from him or from me.
He came home. Girded myself for the worst. Didn't happen; we just ate dinner and that's it.
I don't know if booking a flight was the thing he wanted me to do this morning. I don't know if he decided he needed to calm down. But how things turned out in the end, regardless of whether either of us deserve any credit, was refreshing and relieves me of a lot of pain in my heart.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Questions About The Media Coverage Of Farrah Fawcett's Death
Only because I can't help but be curious. And I ask questions because I'm not good at offering solutions.
-Does Farrah Fawcett's death warrant the hour-long tributes about her on Thursday? Obviously she can't compare with Michael Jackson's death (what a coincidence), and I could just be showing how young I am, but I don't know if a former Charlie's Angel who had just three Emmy nominations would get a special devoted to her.
-I might be having my cake and eating it too, but is the media highlighting her death because they were and are covering Michael Jackson's death intensely and non-stop, so they were afraid they were going to ignore her death altogether? Assuming she would have had specials about her regardless of Jackson, it would be ironic if the media was going to completely distort Fawcett's place in pop culture no matter what.
-Tabloids, TMZ, and even the mainstream press are going to, excuse the word, overdose on the aftermath, and the ancillary issues about Jackson (who gets the kids, what will happen to his nine-figure debt, the will) soon will overtake coverage of his death. I wonder if that pushes out any similar stories about Fawcett. It would be coming if Jackson hadn't died, and they still could come months later, but now, she's an afterthought. And maybe that's a good thing.
-Does Farrah Fawcett's death warrant the hour-long tributes about her on Thursday? Obviously she can't compare with Michael Jackson's death (what a coincidence), and I could just be showing how young I am, but I don't know if a former Charlie's Angel who had just three Emmy nominations would get a special devoted to her.
-I might be having my cake and eating it too, but is the media highlighting her death because they were and are covering Michael Jackson's death intensely and non-stop, so they were afraid they were going to ignore her death altogether? Assuming she would have had specials about her regardless of Jackson, it would be ironic if the media was going to completely distort Fawcett's place in pop culture no matter what.
-Tabloids, TMZ, and even the mainstream press are going to, excuse the word, overdose on the aftermath, and the ancillary issues about Jackson (who gets the kids, what will happen to his nine-figure debt, the will) soon will overtake coverage of his death. I wonder if that pushes out any similar stories about Fawcett. It would be coming if Jackson hadn't died, and they still could come months later, but now, she's an afterthought. And maybe that's a good thing.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
I Did It!
I was finally able to show my dick to a stripper I like! This had to be done at a place other than her line of work. But when we started our bed dance, I turned around to take the stuff out of my pants. Little did she figure that I took out my cock, too!
At first she ordered me to put it away lest someone see me exposed. But I was undeterred. After we were done with our dances I whipped it out again. And this time she didn't tell me to put it away. Instead, she touched it! You hear me?! She touched my pee-pee!! And she squeezed it!!! And she pulled on it too!!! I am overjoyed!!!
Later we went to the back of the garage for another session. This time she wouldn't touch my manhood, and since this was on a chair the dances weren't as good as the first two. (Plus, she thought I was going to get one more dance than we actually got.) But who cares? I hope she still likes me because I'm still over the moon over the handjob I got tonight!!!
At first she ordered me to put it away lest someone see me exposed. But I was undeterred. After we were done with our dances I whipped it out again. And this time she didn't tell me to put it away. Instead, she touched it! You hear me?! She touched my pee-pee!! And she squeezed it!!! And she pulled on it too!!! I am overjoyed!!!
Later we went to the back of the garage for another session. This time she wouldn't touch my manhood, and since this was on a chair the dances weren't as good as the first two. (Plus, she thought I was going to get one more dance than we actually got.) But who cares? I hope she still likes me because I'm still over the moon over the handjob I got tonight!!!
Friday, June 26, 2009
All I can say is, even though Michael Jackson ended his life as a complete freak, when he was normal and at his peak, the King of Pop ruled the earth.
With the possible exception of Kiss, Michael Jackson was the first music star I truly knew, followed and idolized. And his stuff from Off The Wall, Thriller and Bad still hold up -- "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough," "Billie Jean," "Man In The Mirror" -- all badass to this day.
What a fucking past 72 hours. What they say is true: Deaths do come in threes. RIP Ed McMahon. RIP Farrah Fawcett. And RIP Michael Jackson.
With the possible exception of Kiss, Michael Jackson was the first music star I truly knew, followed and idolized. And his stuff from Off The Wall, Thriller and Bad still hold up -- "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough," "Billie Jean," "Man In The Mirror" -- all badass to this day.
What a fucking past 72 hours. What they say is true: Deaths do come in threes. RIP Ed McMahon. RIP Farrah Fawcett. And RIP Michael Jackson.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Timberwolves (Last Week: -1). I honestly don't know why or how I've got these teams in the order that I do. There are a lot of drawbacks to each team's weeks, debits that should bring them down to the bottom of The WKMNSS. Take the Woofie Dogs, for example. The roster didn't have too much time to mourn the loss of Kevin McHale before two of them were traded away to the Washington Wizards for the fifth pick in the draft and three stiffs. (I should've known these two teams would make transactions with each other as soon as Flip Saunders became the head coach in D.C.). I still wonder why they brought in Mike Miller and considered him to be the three-point secret weapon in the Kevin Love/O.J. Mayo deal only to deal him a year later. And although the Wolves are still getting the short end of the Randy Foye/Brandon Roy trade, I saw enough of Fourth Quarter Foye to think I was wrong about him not being able to hack it in the NBA.
But then I remembered: McFail did these trades, and he's no longer there. I still question the logic behind Tuesday's trade, but I suspect there are some PR motives behind it -- namely, the sooner new GM David Kahn can distance the new regime from the old one, the better. And I have to admit, that ain't a bad idea. Unfortunately, they now hold four first-round picks in what many people believe is the weakest draft of the Modern Age. (Plus, they have two second-round picks. How can you bring in six guys onto a team at once?) Who do they draft? Hasheem Thabeet is solidifying as the second guy to go, to Memphis. The T-Wolves want to move up, but they're not willing to give up both the 5th and 6th picks. So will it be Ricky Rubio? James Harden? Tyreke Evans? Stephen Curry?
What I'm kind of ashamed of is, even though none of these guys scream "great pick!" to me -- I'll give even chances that no one drafted this year, not even impending top pick Blake Griffin, will be an above-average player -- I'm getting more and more intrigued by who they'll choose and even what they'll do. All this wheeling and dealing is fun! And in the end, I guess that's why I'm putting this team on top.
#-2: Lynx (Last Week: -3). Well, um, these guys are fucked for the season -- no wonder why they're called the Minnesota Jinx. Coach Jenn Gillom was right: Seimone Augustus tore her ACL last week and is gone for the year. Not like they were going to win the WNBA Championship this year, but losing their best player could be the death knell for the franchise, not just the season. And Friday they played like it, losing at Seattle by 28. However...
Because I'm lying to my parents I was in "class" on Tuesday at the Lynx game. They have this tradition where the whole crowd stands up until they score a basket, and every time I've gone it takes them an inordinate amount of time to get that basket. The Lynx scored quicker this time around, but they still finally scored about 75 seconds in. But then they started hitting their shots and tenaciously going after the ball on defense. And who spearheaded the team's 12-point win, the first time I've ever seen the Lynx kick ass in person? Candace Wiggins. She scored 25 with five assists and three steals. I've seen Augustus play, but from this one game I can see that, if she's allowed, this can be Wiggins' team. For a franchise that has drafted in the Top 5 for several years running, unless you're completely incompetent (ahem, Clippers, ahem), you're going to amass some talent. And that talent finally seems to have come to fruition, with Wiggins, Nicky Anosike, Charde Houston and Kelly Miller. And I don't feel so bad about the team's fortunes, or even its season, anymore.
Now watch them spit the bit hosting Phoenix and visiting Atlanta this week.
#-3: Twins (Last Week: -2). What the fuck? Twinkies go 2-3 this week. I thought these guys were interleague warriors. Instead, I go to Saturday's game versus Houston and see them cough up a lead fall a Joe Crede fly ball short of snatching victory out of the jaws of defeat. Thank you, Ron Gardenhire, for foisting upon me relievers Sean Henn, who threw the pitch that tied the game and the Michael Bourn homer that gave the Astros a two-run lead, and Luis Ayala, for tossing up yet another gopher ball that Lance Berkman deposited over the right-field baggie that stands as the game-winner. I saw these two when I went to Tuesday's loss to Pittsburgh. Why, Gardy, do you punish me like this, why??? (However, I want to thank y'all for real for finally designating Ayala for assignment. A young dude still has a chance to turn things around.) Worse news: Joe Mauer is now on pace to bat below .400! Even worse news: He'll be on the cover of next week's Sports Illustrated!! Now that's what you call a jinx!!! After finishing up at Milwaukee this afternoon, they visitthe strip clubs of East St. Louis the Cardinals in St. Louis over the weekend to finish interleague play for the year, then stay in Missouri for three at Kansas City.
But then I remembered: McFail did these trades, and he's no longer there. I still question the logic behind Tuesday's trade, but I suspect there are some PR motives behind it -- namely, the sooner new GM David Kahn can distance the new regime from the old one, the better. And I have to admit, that ain't a bad idea. Unfortunately, they now hold four first-round picks in what many people believe is the weakest draft of the Modern Age. (Plus, they have two second-round picks. How can you bring in six guys onto a team at once?) Who do they draft? Hasheem Thabeet is solidifying as the second guy to go, to Memphis. The T-Wolves want to move up, but they're not willing to give up both the 5th and 6th picks. So will it be Ricky Rubio? James Harden? Tyreke Evans? Stephen Curry?
What I'm kind of ashamed of is, even though none of these guys scream "great pick!" to me -- I'll give even chances that no one drafted this year, not even impending top pick Blake Griffin, will be an above-average player -- I'm getting more and more intrigued by who they'll choose and even what they'll do. All this wheeling and dealing is fun! And in the end, I guess that's why I'm putting this team on top.
#-2: Lynx (Last Week: -3). Well, um, these guys are fucked for the season -- no wonder why they're called the Minnesota Jinx. Coach Jenn Gillom was right: Seimone Augustus tore her ACL last week and is gone for the year. Not like they were going to win the WNBA Championship this year, but losing their best player could be the death knell for the franchise, not just the season. And Friday they played like it, losing at Seattle by 28. However...
Because I'm lying to my parents I was in "class" on Tuesday at the Lynx game. They have this tradition where the whole crowd stands up until they score a basket, and every time I've gone it takes them an inordinate amount of time to get that basket. The Lynx scored quicker this time around, but they still finally scored about 75 seconds in. But then they started hitting their shots and tenaciously going after the ball on defense. And who spearheaded the team's 12-point win, the first time I've ever seen the Lynx kick ass in person? Candace Wiggins. She scored 25 with five assists and three steals. I've seen Augustus play, but from this one game I can see that, if she's allowed, this can be Wiggins' team. For a franchise that has drafted in the Top 5 for several years running, unless you're completely incompetent (ahem, Clippers, ahem), you're going to amass some talent. And that talent finally seems to have come to fruition, with Wiggins, Nicky Anosike, Charde Houston and Kelly Miller. And I don't feel so bad about the team's fortunes, or even its season, anymore.
Now watch them spit the bit hosting Phoenix and visiting Atlanta this week.
#-3: Twins (Last Week: -2). What the fuck? Twinkies go 2-3 this week. I thought these guys were interleague warriors. Instead, I go to Saturday's game versus Houston and see them cough up a lead fall a Joe Crede fly ball short of snatching victory out of the jaws of defeat. Thank you, Ron Gardenhire, for foisting upon me relievers Sean Henn, who threw the pitch that tied the game and the Michael Bourn homer that gave the Astros a two-run lead, and Luis Ayala, for tossing up yet another gopher ball that Lance Berkman deposited over the right-field baggie that stands as the game-winner. I saw these two when I went to Tuesday's loss to Pittsburgh. Why, Gardy, do you punish me like this, why??? (However, I want to thank y'all for real for finally designating Ayala for assignment. A young dude still has a chance to turn things around.) Worse news: Joe Mauer is now on pace to bat below .400! Even worse news: He'll be on the cover of next week's Sports Illustrated!! Now that's what you call a jinx!!! After finishing up at Milwaukee this afternoon, they visit
For My 200th Post, I'll Talk About Two Very Small Things
1) I hate it whenever my Father gives me tone, even if it's something as small as buying Coke with a coupon, even when it's not meant to insult.
2) Just played a few hands of poker on facebook. Lasted, at best, six hands. Won $100 from this one guy with two pair. Then won $200, I think, from him with a full house. I usually don't want to needle a guy I don't know, especially when he's not aggressively raising on me, but what could I do, I had a good hand. Well, he did what I would do in his place: retaliate. The second time he pushed all-in on me before the flop, however, I had pocket kings. Again, what could I do? So we and this one girl who came in after us had this showdown, and my kings stood up. My initial $1,000 cache is now more than triple. And I kind of feel bad for taking all this fake money from a guy over the course of just a half-dozen hands.
2) Just played a few hands of poker on facebook. Lasted, at best, six hands. Won $100 from this one guy with two pair. Then won $200, I think, from him with a full house. I usually don't want to needle a guy I don't know, especially when he's not aggressively raising on me, but what could I do, I had a good hand. Well, he did what I would do in his place: retaliate. The second time he pushed all-in on me before the flop, however, I had pocket kings. Again, what could I do? So we and this one girl who came in after us had this showdown, and my kings stood up. My initial $1,000 cache is now more than triple. And I kind of feel bad for taking all this fake money from a guy over the course of just a half-dozen hands.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Four Thoughts On Donald Fehr
1) Good fucking riddance. Nothing but an obstructionist, standing in the way of common sense, justice, fairness, and what's right for the game of baseball.
2) Controversial, but effective. That's the kind of faint praise used to describe dictators.
3) I know nothing about this guy, and that scares me. What kind of a personal life does he have? Is he closeted? I think he is.
4) No charisma whatsoever. Seriously, has anyone seen this man smile once? Ever?
2) Controversial, but effective. That's the kind of faint praise used to describe dictators.
3) I know nothing about this guy, and that scares me. What kind of a personal life does he have? Is he closeted? I think he is.
4) No charisma whatsoever. Seriously, has anyone seen this man smile once? Ever?
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Another Seinfeldian Day
Woke up at noon. Wanted to finish up my previous blog entry and a strip club review. I also wanted to eat at the Five Guys burger shop that opened up. I really wanted to get there before 1, but my writing hung me up till I got into my car at 12:50, and Five Guys is in Edina, at least 20 minutes away.
I get to where I believe Five Guys to be. But I can't find. Damn, I should've written down the address. I thought it was past this mall called Southdale, and it was, but I couldn't find it. I went down as far as I thought it'd be than slowly double back, taking right turns into a series of parking ramps and high-end strip malls. I even got stuck waiting for a city truck blasting gravel into pot holes to cross through an intersection. Why the hell can't that shit wait till after evening rush?
I finally found the place going back the other way. There was a huge sign on a side of the building on the side of the road that said "FIVE GUYS" in red letters but it wasn't lit up and it was next to an equally large sign also in red letters. And there wasn't any other signage anywhere. You'd think that for a burger joint that wants to make a splash, they'd make damn sure a person who heard about these guys through President Obama's burger run would pull out all the stops to make sure everybody knew where they were located. Whatever.
I parked at a ramp. It was the ramp next to the building/development area, so I had to walk down stairs and then around the back of the restaurant, where it just so happened I ran into a Five Guys worker dumping boxes at the dumpster. As she was going through the back door, she looked back. I smiled at her -- she could be the one getting me my fries -- and I made way for her and the door, and I slipped and swung my left ankle stepping onto the edge of the sidewalk and the rocks right next to it. I hate it when I don't look cool. And it's not my fault.
Food was good, but I don't know if it's worth $8.50. The hamburger was messy, and when I took a bite, the condiments spilled out from the back. I hate that; I should stop getting so many things. Fries were soggy, but there were a lot of them. And the free peanuts were a nice touch. It was kind of busy and noisy, but I still don't know how the otherwise courteous guy taking my order mistook me saying "hamburger" for "little cheeseburger." Whatever, I saved 50 cents.
Afterward I wanted to take a drive to Menards to get a price quote on some wood for a new deck my Father wants to put in. And I'll be damned, but when I got to the intersection, there were cop cars and an ambulance there! There was no fucking way I was getting to Menards, and all because of some freak accident that just happened to take place at that location at that time?! See, this wouldn't've happened if I hadn't gotten lost trying to find Five Guys, which wouldn't've happened if they put up more and better signs, for crissake.
Oh, and I wanted to go to AAA and pick up a guidebook and map to San Francisco for that trip in September, but it was too late. If I didn't get lost finding Five Guys, maybe I would've had time. One other thing: I was losing my mind over the fucking heat all goddamn day. Just about went crazy as soon as I stepped outside.
All that means I got home at 3:30 -- way too late for me to do any large amount of yard work. I didn't feel productive at all. But at least I could convince myself that the heat would've prevented me from doing any large amount of yard work even if I had the time.
I get to where I believe Five Guys to be. But I can't find. Damn, I should've written down the address. I thought it was past this mall called Southdale, and it was, but I couldn't find it. I went down as far as I thought it'd be than slowly double back, taking right turns into a series of parking ramps and high-end strip malls. I even got stuck waiting for a city truck blasting gravel into pot holes to cross through an intersection. Why the hell can't that shit wait till after evening rush?
I finally found the place going back the other way. There was a huge sign on a side of the building on the side of the road that said "FIVE GUYS" in red letters but it wasn't lit up and it was next to an equally large sign also in red letters. And there wasn't any other signage anywhere. You'd think that for a burger joint that wants to make a splash, they'd make damn sure a person who heard about these guys through President Obama's burger run would pull out all the stops to make sure everybody knew where they were located. Whatever.
I parked at a ramp. It was the ramp next to the building/development area, so I had to walk down stairs and then around the back of the restaurant, where it just so happened I ran into a Five Guys worker dumping boxes at the dumpster. As she was going through the back door, she looked back. I smiled at her -- she could be the one getting me my fries -- and I made way for her and the door, and I slipped and swung my left ankle stepping onto the edge of the sidewalk and the rocks right next to it. I hate it when I don't look cool. And it's not my fault.
Food was good, but I don't know if it's worth $8.50. The hamburger was messy, and when I took a bite, the condiments spilled out from the back. I hate that; I should stop getting so many things. Fries were soggy, but there were a lot of them. And the free peanuts were a nice touch. It was kind of busy and noisy, but I still don't know how the otherwise courteous guy taking my order mistook me saying "hamburger" for "little cheeseburger." Whatever, I saved 50 cents.
Afterward I wanted to take a drive to Menards to get a price quote on some wood for a new deck my Father wants to put in. And I'll be damned, but when I got to the intersection, there were cop cars and an ambulance there! There was no fucking way I was getting to Menards, and all because of some freak accident that just happened to take place at that location at that time?! See, this wouldn't've happened if I hadn't gotten lost trying to find Five Guys, which wouldn't've happened if they put up more and better signs, for crissake.
Oh, and I wanted to go to AAA and pick up a guidebook and map to San Francisco for that trip in September, but it was too late. If I didn't get lost finding Five Guys, maybe I would've had time. One other thing: I was losing my mind over the fucking heat all goddamn day. Just about went crazy as soon as I stepped outside.
All that means I got home at 3:30 -- way too late for me to do any large amount of yard work. I didn't feel productive at all. But at least I could convince myself that the heat would've prevented me from doing any large amount of yard work even if I had the time.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Another Seinfeldian Night
Today (or last night ... whatever) was Father's Day, and I knew we were going to go out -- again -- to the only Chinese place my parents tolerate. Father called this afternoon and said that we were taking my car. Well, they have an "issue" with me driving my car with less than a half-full tank, and I was around there. I didn't want to receive any grief from my parents, and besides, My Fucking Father hasn't been too much of a dick to me lately, so I thought I might as well make them happy and fill up the tank before they come home, and then leave it outside.
When my brother comes over, they instead choose to take his (new and impressive-looking) car. Why the hell did I take the car out then? I might as well have put the car back in the garage in that case, or even not fill up the tank at all. But I can't just turn the engine on so I can drive it back into the garage and then just turn it off; not getting the engine oil to a boil will destroy it. So after dinner I decide I might as well go get some coffee. I had some forms to fill out and some mail to look through, so I'll have some things to do.
But I had one other, um, hang-up that I was determined to follow: I will not spend cash today. It's been slipping through my hands for days now, and I decided that today I wasn't going to do that. Of course, now that I needed to go out, and I had to somehow pay for the coffee. Which leads me to another hand-up: I was going to use only my American Express card, not my Visa. The Visa has a lower interest rate, but I think it's best to use my AmEx once in a while for my credit score, I should only use one card at a time, and besides, I think the Visa could use a little rest. I don't resume using it until I haven't used it for one full billing cycle, and to make sure of that, I won't use it for two months. I'm in the first week of that right now.
So I drive out into the Sunday night with just my American Express, knowing that some places don't take it. Did you know that the processing fee for charges to AmEx are higher than for those of other cards, and that's why most places take, say, Visa but don't take American Express? (Those long-ago Visa commercials were right.) I went to Uptown for coffee girding myself for the possibility that I might not even get any coffee.
The two places I patronize the most do not take AmEx. They take Visa. They take MasterCard. They take Discover. But no, not American Express. Daunted greatly, I decided to hit this other place in Lyn-Lake a boho area running parallel and sort of like Uptown. I get in there and ask the girls if they take AmEx. She doesn't know. Well, I'll just make it and then we'll charge it and see if they take it, I guess, ha-ha. Ha-ha. I was afraid this was going to happen, but I couldn't muster enough strength to be an asshole and just leave. So I wait for her to bring out this frothy stone-blasted mug with ample whip cream and a cracker right in the middle. Not a bad way to present a mocha; maybe I'll come back when I decide I can use cash.
So she takes my card and runs it through her machine thingy, and after several seconds receipt slowly oozes out of it. "It takes it!" I exclaim in hope. Nope, the girl said, it says it's rejected. Then the guy at the counter right behind her breaks his concentration from working on his MacBook and says they don't take American Express. Thanks for letting me know -- I just wish you were more attentive in working.
So, what to do? I have this beautiful hot mocha right in front of me; I couldn't just say I don't want it, can I? No, I can't. So I take out my money and pay him, which ruins my entire self-edict about not using it today. So I had to find and/or do something positive and/or productive, which, thankfully, I did: I filled out all the forms I needed to (when I usually do that later in the week, which I shouldn't), and I got caught up in some expense paperwork.
Sadly, paying cash for this runs into my final hang-up for the night: If I was going to have a cash-related expense, I need to have at least two. Getting money, though, counts, so after I got back home, I put money out from under my mattress and stuck it in my wallet. But again, all this would've been avoided if I didn't use my car, which wouldn't've happened if I didn't decide to fill up my tank that afternoon, which would't've happened if my parents didn't go back on their weird when my father said we were using my car. And I dragged my trusty clunker all over Minneapolis this whole night seeking one coffeehouse that takes American Express ... and concluding that there ain't one.
Total. Systemic. Failure.
When my brother comes over, they instead choose to take his (new and impressive-looking) car. Why the hell did I take the car out then? I might as well have put the car back in the garage in that case, or even not fill up the tank at all. But I can't just turn the engine on so I can drive it back into the garage and then just turn it off; not getting the engine oil to a boil will destroy it. So after dinner I decide I might as well go get some coffee. I had some forms to fill out and some mail to look through, so I'll have some things to do.
But I had one other, um, hang-up that I was determined to follow: I will not spend cash today. It's been slipping through my hands for days now, and I decided that today I wasn't going to do that. Of course, now that I needed to go out, and I had to somehow pay for the coffee. Which leads me to another hand-up: I was going to use only my American Express card, not my Visa. The Visa has a lower interest rate, but I think it's best to use my AmEx once in a while for my credit score, I should only use one card at a time, and besides, I think the Visa could use a little rest. I don't resume using it until I haven't used it for one full billing cycle, and to make sure of that, I won't use it for two months. I'm in the first week of that right now.
So I drive out into the Sunday night with just my American Express, knowing that some places don't take it. Did you know that the processing fee for charges to AmEx are higher than for those of other cards, and that's why most places take, say, Visa but don't take American Express? (Those long-ago Visa commercials were right.) I went to Uptown for coffee girding myself for the possibility that I might not even get any coffee.
The two places I patronize the most do not take AmEx. They take Visa. They take MasterCard. They take Discover. But no, not American Express. Daunted greatly, I decided to hit this other place in Lyn-Lake a boho area running parallel and sort of like Uptown. I get in there and ask the girls if they take AmEx. She doesn't know. Well, I'll just make it and then we'll charge it and see if they take it, I guess, ha-ha. Ha-ha. I was afraid this was going to happen, but I couldn't muster enough strength to be an asshole and just leave. So I wait for her to bring out this frothy stone-blasted mug with ample whip cream and a cracker right in the middle. Not a bad way to present a mocha; maybe I'll come back when I decide I can use cash.
So she takes my card and runs it through her machine thingy, and after several seconds receipt slowly oozes out of it. "It takes it!" I exclaim in hope. Nope, the girl said, it says it's rejected. Then the guy at the counter right behind her breaks his concentration from working on his MacBook and says they don't take American Express. Thanks for letting me know -- I just wish you were more attentive in working.
So, what to do? I have this beautiful hot mocha right in front of me; I couldn't just say I don't want it, can I? No, I can't. So I take out my money and pay him, which ruins my entire self-edict about not using it today. So I had to find and/or do something positive and/or productive, which, thankfully, I did: I filled out all the forms I needed to (when I usually do that later in the week, which I shouldn't), and I got caught up in some expense paperwork.
Sadly, paying cash for this runs into my final hang-up for the night: If I was going to have a cash-related expense, I need to have at least two. Getting money, though, counts, so after I got back home, I put money out from under my mattress and stuck it in my wallet. But again, all this would've been avoided if I didn't use my car, which wouldn't've happened if I didn't decide to fill up my tank that afternoon, which would't've happened if my parents didn't go back on their weird when my father said we were using my car. And I dragged my trusty clunker all over Minneapolis this whole night seeking one coffeehouse that takes American Express ... and concluding that there ain't one.
Total. Systemic. Failure.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
My Day And My Night
1) The one thing I like about summer: going to malls and seeing hot young chicks in sun dresses -- and wearing no bras! Thank you, gorgeous babes!! And thank you, Minnesota humidity!!!
2) Went to the Twins game. They lost. This is the second time I went to a game this week, and it's the second time they lost. Never seen that before. I really do believe that if you go to a game that your team loses, it's a complete waste. I wasted money two times this week. I don't know if I should go to a Twins game the rest of the season.
3) Oh yeah, and for the guy who threw something at the back of neck as I was leaving the game: YOU FUCKING EAT SHIT AND DIE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE!!! YOU THINK YOU'RE THAT'S FUNNY? YOU THINK YOU'RE A FUCKING MAN FOR WINGING SOMETHING AT A GUY WHEN HE'S NOT LOOKING? FUCK YOU!!! GODDAMN YOU AND EVERY FUCKING PIECE OF TRASH THAT WAS WITH YOU WHEN YOU DID THAT!!! YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ME WEARING A HAWAIIAN SHIRT? GOT A PROBLEM WITH AN ASIAN? OR ARE YOU JUST A CHICKEN-SHIT DUMBFUCK WHO GOES AFTER GUYS ONLY WHEN THEY'RE NOT LOOKING? OR IS IT ALL THREE? FUCK YOU, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH, FUCK YOU IN THE ASS!!!
4) Went to eat at a late-night place I often eat at after a night out. On the way there, I saw some cop cars with their lights flashing behind a civilian car. When I parked at the restaurant, I finally counted -- nine cop cars were on this car's ass!! Nine!!! I, the guys working at the place and the customers also eating there took turns looking out the window. For the life of us we couldn't piece together what was going on. There were three people for the cops of nine cars to interrogate. But they didn't seem to arrest them; even though I saw two of them get into separate squad cars, none of them were put into handcuffs or bracelets. And this one guy was apparently being questioned by a couple of the cops as they made a point of standing several feet away from him. Odd. I ate for about an hour and a half, it started before I got there, and they were still there (several of the cops were casing the vehicle they stopped) when I left. Geez, wouldn't they have been able to figure out what to arrest them for well before then?
I'll just blame all the bad and weird shit that happened to me tonight on the heat.
2) Went to the Twins game. They lost. This is the second time I went to a game this week, and it's the second time they lost. Never seen that before. I really do believe that if you go to a game that your team loses, it's a complete waste. I wasted money two times this week. I don't know if I should go to a Twins game the rest of the season.
3) Oh yeah, and for the guy who threw something at the back of neck as I was leaving the game: YOU FUCKING EAT SHIT AND DIE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE!!! YOU THINK YOU'RE THAT'S FUNNY? YOU THINK YOU'RE A FUCKING MAN FOR WINGING SOMETHING AT A GUY WHEN HE'S NOT LOOKING? FUCK YOU!!! GODDAMN YOU AND EVERY FUCKING PIECE OF TRASH THAT WAS WITH YOU WHEN YOU DID THAT!!! YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ME WEARING A HAWAIIAN SHIRT? GOT A PROBLEM WITH AN ASIAN? OR ARE YOU JUST A CHICKEN-SHIT DUMBFUCK WHO GOES AFTER GUYS ONLY WHEN THEY'RE NOT LOOKING? OR IS IT ALL THREE? FUCK YOU, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH, FUCK YOU IN THE ASS!!!
4) Went to eat at a late-night place I often eat at after a night out. On the way there, I saw some cop cars with their lights flashing behind a civilian car. When I parked at the restaurant, I finally counted -- nine cop cars were on this car's ass!! Nine!!! I, the guys working at the place and the customers also eating there took turns looking out the window. For the life of us we couldn't piece together what was going on. There were three people for the cops of nine cars to interrogate. But they didn't seem to arrest them; even though I saw two of them get into separate squad cars, none of them were put into handcuffs or bracelets. And this one guy was apparently being questioned by a couple of the cops as they made a point of standing several feet away from him. Odd. I ate for about an hour and a half, it started before I got there, and they were still there (several of the cops were casing the vehicle they stopped) when I left. Geez, wouldn't they have been able to figure out what to arrest them for well before then?
I'll just blame all the bad and weird shit that happened to me tonight on the heat.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Poor Bastard Of The Moment: Kimberley Vlaeminck
Not only are my PBM's not necessarily confined to the sports world, they don't have to be men, either.
Yeah. In case you don't know, this girl is the girl who has all these stars on the left side of her face. She said she only wanted three stars, not 56, and that she fell asleep. The tattoo artist said she was alright with the whole procedure, that she was awake the whole time, and that she's going nuts now that her father went nuts.
The close-up of those stars is hideous. But then I don't exactly mind Mike Tyson's face tattoo. Actually I think his is kind of cool. So why am I so fuckin' freaked out by hers? Maybe it's the fact that some of them are raised on her skin, like they weren't tattooed so much as they were branded.
Oh, by the way, the news reporter interviews the tattoo artist, and if you don't like guys who are completely -- let me say that again, COMPLETELY -- covered in tattoos, and who has every millimeter of his lower lip pierced, and who has those things that grossly expand the orifices of the nostrils and earlobes, turn away or stop the video at the :35 mark. He speaks very good English and I don't doubt he's a nice guy. Let's just say my stomach almost had a visceral reaction to seeing him.
I can't believe this Vlaeminck woman fell asleep as she was getting a tattoo. But regardless of who's telling the truth, she'll never be able to show her face in public as long as she's got that shit on her face. And I believe she regrets getting any tattoos at all.
Oh, by the way: Poor bastard.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Forgot to turn off my phone when I went to bed last night. However, it just so happened that at 10:30 my father had to call me/wake me up and tell me that whenever I get to Menards -- whenever, no pressure -- to get a price quote on wood for a new deck -- 10 feet by 20 feet, nine steps.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"IT'S FOR THE DECK!!!" My Fucking Father screams in that goddamn whiny voice, as if it's obvious he was talking about the deck. Listen motherfucker, getting a new deck is your own goddamn idea. See, this is one the things I got fed up with when he touched my last nerve last week. One of the things My Fucking Father complained about was not talking nicely whenever spoken to. I won't do it if you won't do it, asshole -- that's what I should've said to him last week too.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"IT'S FOR THE DECK!!!" My Fucking Father screams in that goddamn whiny voice, as if it's obvious he was talking about the deck. Listen motherfucker, getting a new deck is your own goddamn idea. See, this is one the things I got fed up with when he touched my last nerve last week. One of the things My Fucking Father complained about was not talking nicely whenever spoken to. I won't do it if you won't do it, asshole -- that's what I should've said to him last week too.
A Great Story To Slam UCLA With
This is a week old, so I apologize, but I've been meaning to get to it because UCLA, sworn rival of my alma mater, fucked up not once but twice when it comes to their commencement speaker, and I have to note it. This university wanted actor and Bruin alum James Franco to give the address to their Class of 2009. He's not a bad actor, but (in a nod to the reasons Arizona State gave when it didn't want to award an honorary degree to their commencement speaker, President Barack Obama) his achievements are in the future, not the past. And even the 31-year-old Franco seems to be a cool guy and was in the great show Freaks And Geeks as well as the Spider-Man trilogy, everybody knows being a cool guy isn't enough of a qualification to give advice on how to live the rest of your life. Shit, Franco only got his degree from UCLA last year. What can he tell the class graduating just after him what the world is like?
But then, for some mysterious reason, he drops out of the engagement a week and a half before Commencement. OK, so UCLA is scrambling to find somebody, and they're probably pissed because, believe it or not, Bill Clinton cancelled last year (something about striking labor unions on campus). So who do they find? Brad Delson. Who? Exactly. He's the fucking guitarist for Linkin Park. That's right -- the slinger for the obnoxious, vastly overrated torch-holder of rap-rock gave the most important and momentous speech this year's Bruin seniors will remember. OK, so he's set up a scholarship fund at UCLA, and from what I've read he and the other members of Linkin Park are extremely nice guys. But I have to believe that Delson himself thinks him being commencement speaker is a awful, awful joke.
Just for shiggles I checked out who USC's Commencement Speaker this year was. The Governator himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger. And the Commencement Speaker the year I graduated? Cosby.
The difference, my friends, is clear.
But then, for some mysterious reason, he drops out of the engagement a week and a half before Commencement. OK, so UCLA is scrambling to find somebody, and they're probably pissed because, believe it or not, Bill Clinton cancelled last year (something about striking labor unions on campus). So who do they find? Brad Delson. Who? Exactly. He's the fucking guitarist for Linkin Park. That's right -- the slinger for the obnoxious, vastly overrated torch-holder of rap-rock gave the most important and momentous speech this year's Bruin seniors will remember. OK, so he's set up a scholarship fund at UCLA, and from what I've read he and the other members of Linkin Park are extremely nice guys. But I have to believe that Delson himself thinks him being commencement speaker is a awful, awful joke.
Just for shiggles I checked out who USC's Commencement Speaker this year was. The Governator himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger. And the Commencement Speaker the year I graduated? Cosby.
The difference, my friends, is clear.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1 (tie): Wild and Timberwolves (Re-Entry!, Re-Entry!): News about the dramatic breaking away from the mediocrity of the past -- plus the current mediocrity of the only two professional teams playing right now -- put these two franchises at rest on top. But the move each team made this week plant a lot of questions in my mind on whether it was the right thing to do.
First, the Wild. New General Manager Chuck Fletcher's decision to hire San Jose Assistant Coach Todd Richards is a great PR move -- he's a native Minnesotan and was a great Defenseman for the Gophers. They've known each other since Richards was a minor-league coach in the Pittsburgh Penguins organization. And Richards will dump once and for all Jacque Lemaire's defensive-minded play and implement Fletch's philosophy of open skating and attacking. But isn't he a little green? He has one year of coaching in the Big Ice; he moved up to the Sharks just last year after a successful stint with the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins. Is it possible that Fletcher's taking a guy who needs a bit more seasoning at the major-league level?
Two of the other three guys considered finalists for the job, Peter Laviolette and Craig MacTavish, not only have been a head coach before (with Carolina and Edmonton, respectively), but they met in the '06 Stanley Cup Finals (where Laviolette and the Bastard Hartford Whalers won). The team needs to undergo an overhaul, but should the coach learn on the job as the squad gets younger as well? Besides, this is the NHL, where coaches are fired willy-nilly and it doesn't matter. Look at Fletcher's old club; Pittsburgh hoisted the cup with Dan Bylsma, who's technically an interim coach after Ray Shero, the Pens' current GM (and Fletch's old boss) shitcanned Michel Therrien on the Ides Of February. Where did Bylsma work when he was hired? At Wilkes-Barre/Scranton; he replaced Todd Richards. Now that I think of it, maybe hiring Richards ain't the worst idea. OK, maybe I'm thinking of an assitant coach with more years as an assistant, like the fourth finalist, current Detroit AC Paul MacLean. Or, maybe I should give this guy a chance. What's going to happen next year with the Wild might not be better, but it'll be a breath of fresh air.
As for the Wolves, the first reaction to the news that Kevin McHale has been fired as Head Coach should be "Good Fucking Riddance!!!" And the second reaction should be "Good Fucking Riddance!!!" But I have some doubts about this move, too. It's sad to have some part of me think that this may not be a good idea. The track record as an executive itself warranted MacHale's dismissal long ago. He just got lucky that Owner Glen Taylor let him seek a new challenge, and he somehow got some success with being a Head Coach.
Which leads me to my trepidation about the firing: While this will do wonders for public relations for a team that is running fourth in this sports town, it's the players who are now kind of pissed off that McFail has been run out. For some reason I can't link to a Twitter page here, so I'll tell you that the news broke overnight early Wednesday by Kevin Love tweeting, and he was, um, crestfallen. There is now a situation where the players have a diametrically opposing view of the Head Coach than the paying public. I could be wrong, but some of the pieces are in place for this team to get appreciably better next season. What happens if the team doesn't like the new guy? You could say that the team has to follow whichever guy David Kahn selects to replace him, and you can say that this team isn't good enough to bitch about the firing, and I can see that. But it's truly fascinating how every move this cursed team makes is fraught with doubt and uncertainty and justified second-guessing.
Read this SI.com article by former Star Tribune Wolves writer Steve Aschburner. It breaks down the behind-the-scene how and why behind the dismissal. My sole disagreement with his opinion is that he somehow gives weight to McHale's record over parts of two seasons as a reason he should be retained. Doesn't matter; like I said, if the players you choose can't play, you don't get a chance to coach them yourself, you get fired. But at the end of it all, maybe I'm starting to see the positivity and the good way he treated the people he worked with at the Timberwolves, and I just feel sorry for the guy. Guess I'll quietly break down the paiper-mache McHale I was going to hang in effigy.
#-2: Twins (Last Week: -2). A 4-3 week after Nick Blackburn's complete-game, 5-1 shutout of the Pirates this afternoon (that's not a typo; that's how the Twins website describes it, at least for a while). I'd be higher on the team if they swept them, but I was at that shit game last night (Wednesday) where they got their asses kicked (by the Pirates!!!) 8-2. It's not as if starter Francisco Liriano pitched bad; he went six innings and struck out seven. But his two mistakes were two two-run homers. But then Jason Kubel and Joe Crede left the bases loaded in the seventh. And then Sean Henn and Luis Ayala pissed away any chance the team had of coming back. And then Delmon Young, whom I'm feeling as sorry for as I do McFail because his career is frittering away fast, bounced one down the third-base line right in front of Michael Cuddyer and later hit into a double play. They have been .500 forever, and their best-in-the-majors record in interleague play isn't helping at all. Three vs. Houston, then three at Milwaukee. Six very gettable games -- and they'll need all of them to convince me they have any chance to play to October.
#-3: Lynx (Last Week: -1). The wheels are starting to come off this train. The perfect season is ruined with a loss at home to Seattle, and on Wednesday they get throttled by Phoenix by 24, giving the Lynx a 1-2 record for the week. Even worse, reigning Player Of The Week Seimone Augustus sprained her knee in last night's loss to the LifeLock; no word yet on how she's doing, but after the game Coach Jen Gillom said "it doesn't look good." Uh-oh. At Seattle Friday, home to New York Tuesday.
First, the Wild. New General Manager Chuck Fletcher's decision to hire San Jose Assistant Coach Todd Richards is a great PR move -- he's a native Minnesotan and was a great Defenseman for the Gophers. They've known each other since Richards was a minor-league coach in the Pittsburgh Penguins organization. And Richards will dump once and for all Jacque Lemaire's defensive-minded play and implement Fletch's philosophy of open skating and attacking. But isn't he a little green? He has one year of coaching in the Big Ice; he moved up to the Sharks just last year after a successful stint with the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins. Is it possible that Fletcher's taking a guy who needs a bit more seasoning at the major-league level?
Two of the other three guys considered finalists for the job, Peter Laviolette and Craig MacTavish, not only have been a head coach before (with Carolina and Edmonton, respectively), but they met in the '06 Stanley Cup Finals (where Laviolette and the Bastard Hartford Whalers won). The team needs to undergo an overhaul, but should the coach learn on the job as the squad gets younger as well? Besides, this is the NHL, where coaches are fired willy-nilly and it doesn't matter. Look at Fletcher's old club; Pittsburgh hoisted the cup with Dan Bylsma, who's technically an interim coach after Ray Shero, the Pens' current GM (and Fletch's old boss) shitcanned Michel Therrien on the Ides Of February. Where did Bylsma work when he was hired? At Wilkes-Barre/Scranton; he replaced Todd Richards. Now that I think of it, maybe hiring Richards ain't the worst idea. OK, maybe I'm thinking of an assitant coach with more years as an assistant, like the fourth finalist, current Detroit AC Paul MacLean. Or, maybe I should give this guy a chance. What's going to happen next year with the Wild might not be better, but it'll be a breath of fresh air.
As for the Wolves, the first reaction to the news that Kevin McHale has been fired as Head Coach should be "Good Fucking Riddance!!!" And the second reaction should be "Good Fucking Riddance!!!" But I have some doubts about this move, too. It's sad to have some part of me think that this may not be a good idea. The track record as an executive itself warranted MacHale's dismissal long ago. He just got lucky that Owner Glen Taylor let him seek a new challenge, and he somehow got some success with being a Head Coach.
Which leads me to my trepidation about the firing: While this will do wonders for public relations for a team that is running fourth in this sports town, it's the players who are now kind of pissed off that McFail has been run out. For some reason I can't link to a Twitter page here, so I'll tell you that the news broke overnight early Wednesday by Kevin Love tweeting, and he was, um, crestfallen. There is now a situation where the players have a diametrically opposing view of the Head Coach than the paying public. I could be wrong, but some of the pieces are in place for this team to get appreciably better next season. What happens if the team doesn't like the new guy? You could say that the team has to follow whichever guy David Kahn selects to replace him, and you can say that this team isn't good enough to bitch about the firing, and I can see that. But it's truly fascinating how every move this cursed team makes is fraught with doubt and uncertainty and justified second-guessing.
Read this SI.com article by former Star Tribune Wolves writer Steve Aschburner. It breaks down the behind-the-scene how and why behind the dismissal. My sole disagreement with his opinion is that he somehow gives weight to McHale's record over parts of two seasons as a reason he should be retained. Doesn't matter; like I said, if the players you choose can't play, you don't get a chance to coach them yourself, you get fired. But at the end of it all, maybe I'm starting to see the positivity and the good way he treated the people he worked with at the Timberwolves, and I just feel sorry for the guy. Guess I'll quietly break down the paiper-mache McHale I was going to hang in effigy.
#-2: Twins (Last Week: -2). A 4-3 week after Nick Blackburn's complete-game, 5-1 shutout of the Pirates this afternoon (that's not a typo; that's how the Twins website describes it, at least for a while). I'd be higher on the team if they swept them, but I was at that shit game last night (Wednesday) where they got their asses kicked (by the Pirates!!!) 8-2. It's not as if starter Francisco Liriano pitched bad; he went six innings and struck out seven. But his two mistakes were two two-run homers. But then Jason Kubel and Joe Crede left the bases loaded in the seventh. And then Sean Henn and Luis Ayala pissed away any chance the team had of coming back. And then Delmon Young, whom I'm feeling as sorry for as I do McFail because his career is frittering away fast, bounced one down the third-base line right in front of Michael Cuddyer and later hit into a double play. They have been .500 forever, and their best-in-the-majors record in interleague play isn't helping at all. Three vs. Houston, then three at Milwaukee. Six very gettable games -- and they'll need all of them to convince me they have any chance to play to October.
#-3: Lynx (Last Week: -1). The wheels are starting to come off this train. The perfect season is ruined with a loss at home to Seattle, and on Wednesday they get throttled by Phoenix by 24, giving the Lynx a 1-2 record for the week. Even worse, reigning Player Of The Week Seimone Augustus sprained her knee in last night's loss to the LifeLock; no word yet on how she's doing, but after the game Coach Jen Gillom said "it doesn't look good." Uh-oh. At Seattle Friday, home to New York Tuesday.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Another Series Of Unfortunate Events
When it rains, it pours, literally. Funny, or not funny, how minor annoyances, when they are grouped together, exponentially multiply your problems and your aggravation.
I was "working" at the U. knowing that the rain was coming in the evening. But around 4:30, walking to my car, it started raining extremely hard. I had no umbrella because why do I? It wasn't supposed to be raining till the evening. So I sprinted to my car, unlock the door and fling it open. And I flung it open so hard and so far that my door got stuck in the ground alongside where I parked the car. I'm in the seat and I'm trying to close my goddamn door but I can't. And it's now pouring buckets outside but I'm trying my hardest to get this door out of this rut, but I can't.
So I pull really, really hard and I hear this loud noise. Uh-oh. I look at the bottom of the door. I remember, or at least I think I remember, that part of the stripping down there tore off and some of it was loose, and I figured I just tore apart the rest of it. I finally push away some of the ground underneath the door and work the door back and forth until it closes, but now I have to open it again to see if I didn't break my door. But remember, it's still raining very, very hard outside. So I have to get up, open the back seat, grab the umbrella and open it so I can bend down and inspect my door. But that's the bad thing about operating an umbrella: If you are using an umbrella, that is the only thing you can do at that time. You can't multitask with an umbrella. You can't, say, inspect a door and use an umbrella at the same time. I tried it, and all I did was allow myself to be rained on to the point where the overshirt I was wearing was drenched through. I'm glad I was wearing a t-shirt underneath, otherwise I would've unwittingly volunteered myself for a free wet t-shirt contest, and I always charge for something like that.
What I saw was a hell of a large divot of grass stuck under the door. As I tried to scrape it off (and get my pants and back wet in the process) I saw a little daylight within the door. I didn't know that a door consists of two parts put together. And after further fucking around, I snapped them shut, I think.
Today, before I see the Twins game, I'm going to have to see if I have to push in other parts of my driver's side door. And I don't know if I should, or if I'll be able to make sure that, I'm not trapping any grass inside the door. And what if I see damage that I can't fix? And all because the weatherman got the forecast wrong, and I didn't grab my umbrella, and I had to park against the side of the street, and I flung my door open too far and too hard, and I pulled it too hard when I wanted it closed, and it was too rainy for me to see if there was any permanent damage. A cascading goddamn series of failures.
Oh, and on my way to driving up my driveway to my house, I heard a loud "crunch" sound in the back of my car. Is it breaking down again?
And oh yeah, tonight I saw a mouse run through my room. Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My life fucking sucks.
I was "working" at the U. knowing that the rain was coming in the evening. But around 4:30, walking to my car, it started raining extremely hard. I had no umbrella because why do I? It wasn't supposed to be raining till the evening. So I sprinted to my car, unlock the door and fling it open. And I flung it open so hard and so far that my door got stuck in the ground alongside where I parked the car. I'm in the seat and I'm trying to close my goddamn door but I can't. And it's now pouring buckets outside but I'm trying my hardest to get this door out of this rut, but I can't.
So I pull really, really hard and I hear this loud noise. Uh-oh. I look at the bottom of the door. I remember, or at least I think I remember, that part of the stripping down there tore off and some of it was loose, and I figured I just tore apart the rest of it. I finally push away some of the ground underneath the door and work the door back and forth until it closes, but now I have to open it again to see if I didn't break my door. But remember, it's still raining very, very hard outside. So I have to get up, open the back seat, grab the umbrella and open it so I can bend down and inspect my door. But that's the bad thing about operating an umbrella: If you are using an umbrella, that is the only thing you can do at that time. You can't multitask with an umbrella. You can't, say, inspect a door and use an umbrella at the same time. I tried it, and all I did was allow myself to be rained on to the point where the overshirt I was wearing was drenched through. I'm glad I was wearing a t-shirt underneath, otherwise I would've unwittingly volunteered myself for a free wet t-shirt contest, and I always charge for something like that.
What I saw was a hell of a large divot of grass stuck under the door. As I tried to scrape it off (and get my pants and back wet in the process) I saw a little daylight within the door. I didn't know that a door consists of two parts put together. And after further fucking around, I snapped them shut, I think.
Today, before I see the Twins game, I'm going to have to see if I have to push in other parts of my driver's side door. And I don't know if I should, or if I'll be able to make sure that, I'm not trapping any grass inside the door. And what if I see damage that I can't fix? And all because the weatherman got the forecast wrong, and I didn't grab my umbrella, and I had to park against the side of the street, and I flung my door open too far and too hard, and I pulled it too hard when I wanted it closed, and it was too rainy for me to see if there was any permanent damage. A cascading goddamn series of failures.
Oh, and on my way to driving up my driveway to my house, I heard a loud "crunch" sound in the back of my car. Is it breaking down again?
And oh yeah, tonight I saw a mouse run through my room. Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My life fucking sucks.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A Fan's Dilemma
Both the NHL and NBA Finals finished with the road team winning. If you were there, would you stick around to see the ceremony?
I wouldn't. Seeing my team get embarrassed at home, then seeing the other team rub it in our faces ... my principles would convince me to leave. I remember the North Stars getting their asses kicked in Game 6 of the '91 Stanley Cup Finals, and hearing the Pittsburgh Penguins hoist the cup at the Met Center -- our house! -- on the radio had me confused all night. How could that happen? From that point on, I have always believed that losing the finals of any championship doesn't mean you had a good season. It just means that you're the last loser.
Saw the Penguins post-game celebration at Joe Louis Arena on Friday at a Hooters. I am surprised that no one threw something at one of the players when he had the cup raised over his head. Wouldn't blame him, either.
I wouldn't. Seeing my team get embarrassed at home, then seeing the other team rub it in our faces ... my principles would convince me to leave. I remember the North Stars getting their asses kicked in Game 6 of the '91 Stanley Cup Finals, and hearing the Pittsburgh Penguins hoist the cup at the Met Center -- our house! -- on the radio had me confused all night. How could that happen? From that point on, I have always believed that losing the finals of any championship doesn't mean you had a good season. It just means that you're the last loser.
Saw the Penguins post-game celebration at Joe Louis Arena on Friday at a Hooters. I am surprised that no one threw something at one of the players when he had the cup raised over his head. Wouldn't blame him, either.
Monday, June 15, 2009
The Dumbest Commercial On TV Today
This one for Sprite:
Hey, you wanna slam into each other, turn into lemon-lime carbonated drink and spray ourselves onto the ground so we can be evaporated from this earth by the sun??? Yeah, that'll be a great way to cool off!!!
Hey, you wanna slam into each other, turn into lemon-lime carbonated drink and spray ourselves onto the ground so we can be evaporated from this earth by the sun??? Yeah, that'll be a great way to cool off!!!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Poor Bastards Of The Moment: Marian Hossa and Ty Conklin
The RW Hossa and the backup G Conklin were on the Pittsburgh Penguins last year -- they lost in the Stanley Cup Finals to the Detroit Red Wings. They both sign with Detroit this year -- they lost in the Stanley Cup Finals to Pittsburgh. What fucking horrible timing. Get 28 seconds into the above clip; you can just feel the self-damnation oozing into Hossa.
Conklin may have it worse. He was in the Stanely Cup Finals four years ago with the Edmonton Oilers ... who lost to the Carolina Hurricanes. Losing three SCF's in four years? That's a losing streak I have whenever I go to Vegas. If you get your heart broken like that that often, it's better to be on a sucky team. I have no doubt in my mind over that.
Poor bastards.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
I Go Off On My Father
And in my own stupid way, it had to be not when he was angry at me for something, but when I was angry at him. I should fight back, but I'm a coward, and I could only blindside him when he is seemingly at his happiest -- for example, on his birthday.
He told me an appraiser was going to come by on Tuesday, and he wanted me to lawn and make the place look nicer. I don't know how mowing the lawn will increase the value of the house, but he told me ahead of time, so I didn't sweat it. It meant I couldn't register for this class I wanted to take in the mornings, but I didn't know if I wanted to, anyway.
But today, he comes home and tells me to put my shoes on because we're going outside for some yardwork. I was tired, I wanted to rest for the Stanley Cup Finals Game 7 (and by the way, even though it was a fantastic finish, I hated that the Penguins won. I'm Original Six all the way, and I'm still pissed at that fucking team for beating my North Stars in '91), and now I'll probably fall asleep once the game's over and, worst off, the Death Of Analog I want to witness at 11:59. But I go out anyway ... and pull weeds, or what My Fucking Father thinks are weeds, for 75 minutes. He's going to put new sod on our lawn. Well geez, thanks for telling me!
I was a half-awake frayed wire, a still-slumbering volcano that was about to explode. I just kind of lost it at dinner, when dad wanted to shoot the shit about the NBA Finals game last night. I just answered him curtly. He sensed I was getting pissed, and instead of asking why I was acting like this, he wondered why I couldn't answer him nicely. Nicely? Nicely?!?!?! You've always fucking snapped at me when I ask you a question!!! Fucking hypocrite.
So I finally just fuckin' let him have it. Why can't I just eat in peace? Why do you have to wonder why I'm in a bad mood? Why couldn't you tell me about this shit yesterday or earlier today? Why can't you be a better father? We went toe-to-toe, although My Fucking Father -- and then My Fucking Mother, who wanted to jump in, even though it wasn't any of her goddamn business -- didn't make any goddamn sense, so I won. He just shut up, and I ate my food, and he left. Happy Birthday, Pop.
It wasn't just about pulling weeds. And it wasn't just about being told to pull weeds as if it's no big deal, though it is. Tonight was a combination of a lot of slights towards me, a lot of not knowing and not caring about my feelings, and telling me where to go without giving me time to prepare nor a reason why we're doing it. I still don't fucking know if this new sod's going to work. Shit, I don't even know if he knows how to put this in. I just don't know the reason. I wished he would've told me this sooner. I wish he would've told me of a lot of things sooner.
And of course I'm going to wake up in several hours to put this sod in. I've said my piece. He's still a wrong asshole. But he needs help. Besides, he did tell me he was going to do this ahead of time. ...
He told me an appraiser was going to come by on Tuesday, and he wanted me to lawn and make the place look nicer. I don't know how mowing the lawn will increase the value of the house, but he told me ahead of time, so I didn't sweat it. It meant I couldn't register for this class I wanted to take in the mornings, but I didn't know if I wanted to, anyway.
But today, he comes home and tells me to put my shoes on because we're going outside for some yardwork. I was tired, I wanted to rest for the Stanley Cup Finals Game 7 (and by the way, even though it was a fantastic finish, I hated that the Penguins won. I'm Original Six all the way, and I'm still pissed at that fucking team for beating my North Stars in '91), and now I'll probably fall asleep once the game's over and, worst off, the Death Of Analog I want to witness at 11:59. But I go out anyway ... and pull weeds, or what My Fucking Father thinks are weeds, for 75 minutes. He's going to put new sod on our lawn. Well geez, thanks for telling me!
I was a half-awake frayed wire, a still-slumbering volcano that was about to explode. I just kind of lost it at dinner, when dad wanted to shoot the shit about the NBA Finals game last night. I just answered him curtly. He sensed I was getting pissed, and instead of asking why I was acting like this, he wondered why I couldn't answer him nicely. Nicely? Nicely?!?!?! You've always fucking snapped at me when I ask you a question!!! Fucking hypocrite.
So I finally just fuckin' let him have it. Why can't I just eat in peace? Why do you have to wonder why I'm in a bad mood? Why couldn't you tell me about this shit yesterday or earlier today? Why can't you be a better father? We went toe-to-toe, although My Fucking Father -- and then My Fucking Mother, who wanted to jump in, even though it wasn't any of her goddamn business -- didn't make any goddamn sense, so I won. He just shut up, and I ate my food, and he left. Happy Birthday, Pop.
It wasn't just about pulling weeds. And it wasn't just about being told to pull weeds as if it's no big deal, though it is. Tonight was a combination of a lot of slights towards me, a lot of not knowing and not caring about my feelings, and telling me where to go without giving me time to prepare nor a reason why we're doing it. I still don't fucking know if this new sod's going to work. Shit, I don't even know if he knows how to put this in. I just don't know the reason. I wished he would've told me this sooner. I wish he would've told me of a lot of things sooner.
And of course I'm going to wake up in several hours to put this sod in. I've said my piece. He's still a wrong asshole. But he needs help. Besides, he did tell me he was going to do this ahead of time. ...
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Lynx (Last Week: -2). You know, I can't believe that they could be undefeated after the first three games of the season, especially after having their coach walk out on them four days before they were to start the season, doubly especially knowing that the third game would be against the Los Angeles Farmers Insurance (more on that later), but guess what? Our WNBA team is 3-0! The second game, a 96-74 biblical ass-kicking at Indiana, has been singled out for its, um, singularity. Six team records were set in that game; the best, in my opinion, is highest field-goal shooting in a quarter, where they missed only one of 14 shots in the first. So far, new Coach Jennifer Gillom is turning this squad into the distaff version of the Steve Nash-led Phoenix Suns of a couple years back; they lead the league in total points, FG%, FT%, and steals. That's not totally surprising since Gillom lives in Phoenix. I wish I could be more excited, but last year the Lynx won their first five games of the season and proceeded to miss the playoffs. We'll see if this whiplash brand of basketball yields wins late in the season. They have three on tap this week: vs. Seattle, then at Sacramento and Phoenix, the latter of which is 2-0.
(Aside: My take on Los Angeles and, before them, Phoenix putting corporate logos on their jerseys. ... I understand that this league needs to make money any way they can. But it doesn't matter to me that international soccer clubs have historically done it, I think it's weird and downright disgusting. Why can't a team name be held as sacred, or at least sacred enough that it is and will always be the most prominent image on a jersey? Selling that in favor of a company is a new and shocking plunge into sports whoredom in this country, and I don't like it. Dealing with corporate names on stadiums and arenas is sickening enough; this is another instance of marketing creep that forces me to see the WNBA less like a game and more like a business. The Lynx have been terrible, but (besides the fact the Timberwolves have been just as bad) they are rightly seen as a low-cost option for families who want to see a sporting event. They get bombarded by enough advertising as they walk into the arena and look at and around the court; do they have to see it brandished on their favorite players, too? And do you really want the kids to believe that the Phoenix LifeLock is playing the Los Angeles Farmers Insurance? What about the children?!?!)
#-2: Twins (Last Week: -1). 3-3 for the week, not including this afternoon's game. Those three losses were consecutive, and they scored a combined six runs in those contests. And the back-to-back wins against Oakland were there were first on the road for the first time since last April at Cleveland. So this month, where the schedule should turn much more favorably for them, isn't starting off so well. There are other reasons to see the glass as half-empty. Jose Mijares remains the team's most dependable middle reliever. Denard Span is having dizzy spells. Plus, they still can't shake the worst record away from home in MLB. And this road trip isn't ending till the weekend, when they play at Wrigley, then host Pittsburgh for three.
(By the way, I'm intrigued by the Twins' first-round pick, Mizzou righty Kyle Gibson. So what if he has a stress fracture in his forearm? Give him some rest, and then he should be as good as he's ever going to get. Why were other teams so wary of him? He sounds like he would've been a top-10 selection if not for his injury. So what? It's not like this guy's Stephen Strasburg and he's going to play in the majors in time for a playoff push later this season. A solid pick.)
(Aside: My take on Los Angeles and, before them, Phoenix putting corporate logos on their jerseys. ... I understand that this league needs to make money any way they can. But it doesn't matter to me that international soccer clubs have historically done it, I think it's weird and downright disgusting. Why can't a team name be held as sacred, or at least sacred enough that it is and will always be the most prominent image on a jersey? Selling that in favor of a company is a new and shocking plunge into sports whoredom in this country, and I don't like it. Dealing with corporate names on stadiums and arenas is sickening enough; this is another instance of marketing creep that forces me to see the WNBA less like a game and more like a business. The Lynx have been terrible, but (besides the fact the Timberwolves have been just as bad) they are rightly seen as a low-cost option for families who want to see a sporting event. They get bombarded by enough advertising as they walk into the arena and look at and around the court; do they have to see it brandished on their favorite players, too? And do you really want the kids to believe that the Phoenix LifeLock is playing the Los Angeles Farmers Insurance? What about the children?!?!)
#-2: Twins (Last Week: -1). 3-3 for the week, not including this afternoon's game. Those three losses were consecutive, and they scored a combined six runs in those contests. And the back-to-back wins against Oakland were there were first on the road for the first time since last April at Cleveland. So this month, where the schedule should turn much more favorably for them, isn't starting off so well. There are other reasons to see the glass as half-empty. Jose Mijares remains the team's most dependable middle reliever. Denard Span is having dizzy spells. Plus, they still can't shake the worst record away from home in MLB. And this road trip isn't ending till the weekend, when they play at Wrigley, then host Pittsburgh for three.
(By the way, I'm intrigued by the Twins' first-round pick, Mizzou righty Kyle Gibson. So what if he has a stress fracture in his forearm? Give him some rest, and then he should be as good as he's ever going to get. Why were other teams so wary of him? He sounds like he would've been a top-10 selection if not for his injury. So what? It's not like this guy's Stephen Strasburg and he's going to play in the majors in time for a playoff push later this season. A solid pick.)
I Fucking Hate Driving Uptown
I wanted to drink coffee there, and I decided to get some money because I be hittin' the strip club on my way back. But all the goddamn traffic ... and then there was the bus that kept cutting right in front of me, that asshole ... and I still don't know where the ATM was. So many motherfucking one-ways ... I kept missing where it was ... and when I finally found it, I had to enter the wrong way and turn my car around, and I always do that when I go to this fuckin' ATM.
Why do I ever go there? Oh yeah, all the good coffee shops are there.
Well, at least I got a lapdance from a girl who groped my dick.
Why do I ever go there? Oh yeah, all the good coffee shops are there.
Well, at least I got a lapdance from a girl who groped my dick.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Dudette, I Don't Speak Spanish!
Got a call yesterday from a girl who met my sister in Central America a couple years ago. They've been phone-tagging ever since. I tried to tell her she doesn't live here anymore. But she kept talking to me in Spanish, even though she must have known that, you know, she's calling someone in a country whose predominant language is English. But that didn't matter to her; she still kept talking to me in Spanish. She didn't even try a "you no speak Spanish?" I tried my best -- I spoke four years back in high school, so yeah, I guess I could've tried to speak better -- but I don't know what I told her. Does this girl know her friend, my sister, doesn't live here anymore?
E-mailed my sis about this. I don't get it.
E-mailed my sis about this. I don't get it.
Dinner Was Completely Trashed Because Of Bad Oil?
This has happened before, and I may have even blogged about this already, but what happened tonight so frustrates me that I have to write about it.
Tonight was stir-fry (as well as pork and egg rolls for me, the stir-fry hating boy, even though I have become hip to the health properties of stir-fry). Mother complained about the taste. Grandmother, who prepared it somehow, said something (though I'm not sure) about the oil she grabbed from somewhere. Dad became exasperated and told my mom to throw the whole damn thing away.
My Fucking Father's treatment of my Grandmother afterward was usual but still maddening. He took my granny's plate from her as she was trying to fish all the non-stir-fry parts out of it. Also, whenever she tried saying something, whether it was about the bad oil or, after this incident was over, what was happening on Wheel Of Fortune, he ignored her. He usually does that -- that, or saying the Chinese equivalent of, "Really?!" feigning surprise and/or trying to shut her up through sarcasm. I shouldn't single out my dad; my mom, who was raised by my grandmother when she was young, totally ignores her too.
Look, nearly everything my granny says around the dinner table is babbling bullshit, and many times I have gotten angry by how much sense she doesn't make. I'm pretty sure it's frustrating for my parents, too. And even though I didn't get to the stir-fry, there's a chance it was horrible; granny makes mistakes when it comes to food sometimes. But I can't shake how belittling my dad and mom treated her tonight. And they do this most every night. I know that feeling of uselessness takes a toll on her, and I can't imagine how she's feeling tonight. I know she gets as antsy as I do whenever she's around them, especially Father, because of their attitude towards her. And I know that if he had his way, Grandmother would be back in Hong Kong or put in a home somewhere.
And that's why I stick around here, to be with her as she was with me when I was young. She has earned the right not to be left alone.
Tonight was stir-fry (as well as pork and egg rolls for me, the stir-fry hating boy, even though I have become hip to the health properties of stir-fry). Mother complained about the taste. Grandmother, who prepared it somehow, said something (though I'm not sure) about the oil she grabbed from somewhere. Dad became exasperated and told my mom to throw the whole damn thing away.
My Fucking Father's treatment of my Grandmother afterward was usual but still maddening. He took my granny's plate from her as she was trying to fish all the non-stir-fry parts out of it. Also, whenever she tried saying something, whether it was about the bad oil or, after this incident was over, what was happening on Wheel Of Fortune, he ignored her. He usually does that -- that, or saying the Chinese equivalent of, "Really?!" feigning surprise and/or trying to shut her up through sarcasm. I shouldn't single out my dad; my mom, who was raised by my grandmother when she was young, totally ignores her too.
Look, nearly everything my granny says around the dinner table is babbling bullshit, and many times I have gotten angry by how much sense she doesn't make. I'm pretty sure it's frustrating for my parents, too. And even though I didn't get to the stir-fry, there's a chance it was horrible; granny makes mistakes when it comes to food sometimes. But I can't shake how belittling my dad and mom treated her tonight. And they do this most every night. I know that feeling of uselessness takes a toll on her, and I can't imagine how she's feeling tonight. I know she gets as antsy as I do whenever she's around them, especially Father, because of their attitude towards her. And I know that if he had his way, Grandmother would be back in Hong Kong or put in a home somewhere.
And that's why I stick around here, to be with her as she was with me when I was young. She has earned the right not to be left alone.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Another Thing About The Latest Issue Of Entertainment Weekly That Came Yesterday:
There are, like, fourteen bajillion goddamn print ads for True Blood. The fuck so many?
Sunday, June 7, 2009
A Separate Thought On Both Big Movies Opening This Weekend, Formed After Reading Through My Latest Entertainment Weekly (Which Came Today)
1) Heather Graham is only good in movies where she gets naked.
2) I consistenly hear that Land Of The Lost is the show Generation X grew up watching. I was born in '76. That's Generation X. I have the angst to prove it. But I have never watched Land Of The Lost. In fact, I don't know of anytime when I was young where I could have watched that show. It was before my time.
2) I consistenly hear that Land Of The Lost is the show Generation X grew up watching. I was born in '76. That's Generation X. I have the angst to prove it. But I have never watched Land Of The Lost. In fact, I don't know of anytime when I was young where I could have watched that show. It was before my time.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Our Store Is CLOSED. We Will Miss YOU
That was the paper sign hanging on the closed metal gate at the Waldenbooks at Northtown Mall when I passed by it today. Shocked me. I haven't been there in a while, so it could've closed down weeks ago. The last time I saw them they seemed fine and operable. I guess everybody's got a Kindle now, or something.
I felt the same kind of loss when I went to Rosedale on Monday. Hadn't been there in a few weeks at least, but I wanted to eat at Arby's on the way to work because I had a coupon, but when I got there all their signs were turned off. No! I thought, they can't be closed. But they were. And I definitely know they didn't close because they lost money; their business was fine. Down in the food court they also closed Blue Sky Creamery, but I can understand them: They had no business, sadly. Guess they couldn't get enough people to buy their delicious ice cream.
Right now it seems like shops are closing down left and right. I know businesses come and go, but shit, these places did nothing wrong. Did the economy chew them up and spit them out? And what about the workers? If they can't go on forever, man, why even start a business in the first place?
By the way, the caps on the paper sign at Waldenbooks were actually there. Why would they put "YOU" in all-caps just like "CLOSED?" Were they differentiating from missing, um, "THEM?"
I felt the same kind of loss when I went to Rosedale on Monday. Hadn't been there in a few weeks at least, but I wanted to eat at Arby's on the way to work because I had a coupon, but when I got there all their signs were turned off. No! I thought, they can't be closed. But they were. And I definitely know they didn't close because they lost money; their business was fine. Down in the food court they also closed Blue Sky Creamery, but I can understand them: They had no business, sadly. Guess they couldn't get enough people to buy their delicious ice cream.
Right now it seems like shops are closing down left and right. I know businesses come and go, but shit, these places did nothing wrong. Did the economy chew them up and spit them out? And what about the workers? If they can't go on forever, man, why even start a business in the first place?
By the way, the caps on the paper sign at Waldenbooks were actually there. Why would they put "YOU" in all-caps just like "CLOSED?" Were they differentiating from missing, um, "THEM?"
Friday, June 5, 2009
Another Goddamn Vacation
Whoopee, Sun Country has another sale! And I got to do all the work!
I just took a shower and sat down to read the latest ESPN The Magazine when Mother ordered me to go downstairs. Of course, My Fucking Father wanted me to help him book a ticket to Las Vegas for him and mom, "work" being booking the ticket for his lazy ass because, for things like this, he don't speak ze English.
Then My Mother gets into the act and recommends I call Sun Country to figure out why the fuck I can't get the sale price for the parents who made me do this. These are the times I wonder why the fuck I couldn't be born white. Then, in the middle of my conversation with the very nice reservations agent, she says, "Hey, why don't you and me got to San Francisco?"
What was I supposed to do, say no? Why would I say no -- I have a job? I had to say yes. Which means, fucking Christ, I had to do all the goddamn footwork in setting up a vacation -- "you hap to book a hotel before you buy the tickets" she said in that condescending voice she only got from him. She called me her little travel agent. Yippee.
It took me the whole goddamn night to bone up on the city of San Francisco. I've been there once -- back in '96. Where were all the bad parts of town? How much can you get a hotel? Where does public transportation go? The question I wrestled with all night was what kind of hotel to get. Priceline was fruitless, so what I was sitting on for a long time was a Hotwire offer of a 2-star hotel in Nob Hill (just out of reach of a sketchy part of town) for $62 per night. So I go into the master bedroom and ask how long should I look before taking this deal. I tried to listen to her, but My Fucking Father wouldn't stay out of it, instead giving advice while I was trying to listen to her, and saying his bullshit in that tone of voice he always uses that always pisses me off. Like he knows San Francisco. He even said to me, "You're a big boy." What the fuck has that got to do with the conversation I'm trying to have with my mother? Are you saying that I'm a child for asking questions to the person whom I going to take this vacation with? Because if you are, you're an idiot, and you are an idiot.
They were asleep when I finally had to make my decision to which hotel I was going to book. I couldn't reserve airline tickets until I got the hotel. I saw on Hotwire that there was another hotel, 3-star, in Fisherman's Wharf for $79. I agonized -- do I charge on my mother's credit card an extra $17 for a hotel that may not be that much of an upgrade over this cheaper option and is farther away from the public transportation we would need to get around the city and the airport?
I decided to go with the more expensive option for two reasons: I can ensure that we would be staying in the touristy and much-safer Fisherman's Wharf area without lengthening any distance to get to Chinatown, where I know we'll be spending the vast majority of our time; and even though it's a site that tracks successful bids from Priceline, the site Bidding For Travel made it look like that hotels with 3 stars are name-brand hotels but ones with 2 stars are not. Now I know these independent hotels have to be safe, but I cannot and will not stand for any bitchin' and moanin' from my mom for not finding a hotel she's heard of. Well, she damn well have better heard of the Holiday Inn, 'cause that's where we're staying. I haven't yet thought of an answer if she asks me why I made her pay $80 a night for a hotel. Geez, $80 a night for a hotel -- it's about as much as the combined airfare for our vacation, which, I have to add, I had to run upstairs to get my American Express card for, because she gave me her Discover and for some odd fucked-up reason Sun Country doesn't take Discover and Mother was already sleeping.
The thing that so irks me about this is the fucking suddeness of it all. I like going on vacations alone because I can go to, well, strip clubs, but also because I'm not beholden to the whims and trepidations of anybody I'm going with. I'll go where I want to go, and I won't go where I don't want to go, and that's that. I've taken many trips to casinos with one of my parents, and by the end of the trip I'm so happy I won't be tied up with them for a weekend. And as a side bonus to that, I can plan a trip on my own, at my own pace. Mom sprang this shit on me. Yeah, it's a hell of a deal, and if they weren't going to go anywhere I would have a hell of a hard time not going somewhere. But make no mistake -- this is her vacation. She's the one getting all giddy over this fuckin' trip, not me, especially since I had to do all the fucking work for her while she got to dictate like the little dictator she is.
Shouldn't I be more grateful for this trip, especially because she's paying for it all. Permit me to be a little standoffish, but with all the shit she's given me all my life, especially when I was young, do you mind if I look forward to this vacation with dread?
I just took a shower and sat down to read the latest ESPN The Magazine when Mother ordered me to go downstairs. Of course, My Fucking Father wanted me to help him book a ticket to Las Vegas for him and mom, "work" being booking the ticket for his lazy ass because, for things like this, he don't speak ze English.
Then My Mother gets into the act and recommends I call Sun Country to figure out why the fuck I can't get the sale price for the parents who made me do this. These are the times I wonder why the fuck I couldn't be born white. Then, in the middle of my conversation with the very nice reservations agent, she says, "Hey, why don't you and me got to San Francisco?"
What was I supposed to do, say no? Why would I say no -- I have a job? I had to say yes. Which means, fucking Christ, I had to do all the goddamn footwork in setting up a vacation -- "you hap to book a hotel before you buy the tickets" she said in that condescending voice she only got from him. She called me her little travel agent. Yippee.
It took me the whole goddamn night to bone up on the city of San Francisco. I've been there once -- back in '96. Where were all the bad parts of town? How much can you get a hotel? Where does public transportation go? The question I wrestled with all night was what kind of hotel to get. Priceline was fruitless, so what I was sitting on for a long time was a Hotwire offer of a 2-star hotel in Nob Hill (just out of reach of a sketchy part of town) for $62 per night. So I go into the master bedroom and ask how long should I look before taking this deal. I tried to listen to her, but My Fucking Father wouldn't stay out of it, instead giving advice while I was trying to listen to her, and saying his bullshit in that tone of voice he always uses that always pisses me off. Like he knows San Francisco. He even said to me, "You're a big boy." What the fuck has that got to do with the conversation I'm trying to have with my mother? Are you saying that I'm a child for asking questions to the person whom I going to take this vacation with? Because if you are, you're an idiot, and you are an idiot.
They were asleep when I finally had to make my decision to which hotel I was going to book. I couldn't reserve airline tickets until I got the hotel. I saw on Hotwire that there was another hotel, 3-star, in Fisherman's Wharf for $79. I agonized -- do I charge on my mother's credit card an extra $17 for a hotel that may not be that much of an upgrade over this cheaper option and is farther away from the public transportation we would need to get around the city and the airport?
I decided to go with the more expensive option for two reasons: I can ensure that we would be staying in the touristy and much-safer Fisherman's Wharf area without lengthening any distance to get to Chinatown, where I know we'll be spending the vast majority of our time; and even though it's a site that tracks successful bids from Priceline, the site Bidding For Travel made it look like that hotels with 3 stars are name-brand hotels but ones with 2 stars are not. Now I know these independent hotels have to be safe, but I cannot and will not stand for any bitchin' and moanin' from my mom for not finding a hotel she's heard of. Well, she damn well have better heard of the Holiday Inn, 'cause that's where we're staying. I haven't yet thought of an answer if she asks me why I made her pay $80 a night for a hotel. Geez, $80 a night for a hotel -- it's about as much as the combined airfare for our vacation, which, I have to add, I had to run upstairs to get my American Express card for, because she gave me her Discover and for some odd fucked-up reason Sun Country doesn't take Discover and Mother was already sleeping.
The thing that so irks me about this is the fucking suddeness of it all. I like going on vacations alone because I can go to, well, strip clubs, but also because I'm not beholden to the whims and trepidations of anybody I'm going with. I'll go where I want to go, and I won't go where I don't want to go, and that's that. I've taken many trips to casinos with one of my parents, and by the end of the trip I'm so happy I won't be tied up with them for a weekend. And as a side bonus to that, I can plan a trip on my own, at my own pace. Mom sprang this shit on me. Yeah, it's a hell of a deal, and if they weren't going to go anywhere I would have a hell of a hard time not going somewhere. But make no mistake -- this is her vacation. She's the one getting all giddy over this fuckin' trip, not me, especially since I had to do all the fucking work for her while she got to dictate like the little dictator she is.
Shouldn't I be more grateful for this trip, especially because she's paying for it all. Permit me to be a little standoffish, but with all the shit she's given me all my life, especially when I was young, do you mind if I look forward to this vacation with dread?
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -1). They're on top by default. A deflating series loss at Tampa Bay reinforces the notion they can't win away from the Metrodome. But a series win against Cleveland, even though it puts the team's record at 3-4 for this week, proves that they can win at the Metrodome and, since they'll be facing teams not much better than the Indians for the entire month of June, they have the ability to beat inferior teams. Went to the game Tuesday where Joe Mauer again hit a home run and drove in 3 RBI. I now apologize to Mr. Mauer, the Mauer family and Twins fans who thought they did the right thing in drafting him over Mark Prior in '01. It is the right move, I must say. Now, they just need to get better pitching.
#-2: Lynx (New!). Don Zierden seemed to be a nice guy, but bailing (tm KARE-11's Randy Shaver, the best sportscaster on local TV) on the Lynx just four days before their home opener was a total bitch-ass move. Why couldn't he quit as soon as Flip Saunders became coach at Washington? Couple that with the sudden ascendancy of Jennifer Gillom, former WNBA player, soon-to-be Hall Of Famer and Assistant Coach under Zierden for two years. The only head coaching experience she has? A girls' high school team in Phoenix. This team may have the same level of talent as Gillom's high school team. But at least she's been there five years, three longer than Zierden's tenure with the Lynx. The bottom line, though, is that Gillom is the sixth coach in the 11 years of this franchise's existence, and the awful timing to this coaching change merely exacerbates the lack of stability that is needed for any franchise to succeed. This team has stockpiled high draft picks and talent, and in basketball, you've got to believe that at some point its fortunes are going to turn around. I've been waiting for the Lynx to rise from the dead the past two seasons, and now, after this, I think they're going to be just as listless and flaccid as they've been all throughout its miserable life. This team should either be moved or put out of its misery.
They kick off the season Saturday and have three games this week: at home to Chicago, at Indiana, then home to Los Angeles. And I'm still kind of ashamed that I have no idea what the team's chances are -- well, besides thinking they'll lose all three because of this blindside resignation.
#-Infinity: Gopher baseball (Last Week: -2). It is what it is. They are eliminated by LSU, final score 10-3. The entire four-team regional actually went to form: 4-seed Southern, 3-seed Baylor and the 2-seed Gophers went out in order in Baton Rouge, and the Tigers, considered the third-best team in the tournament, goes on to super-regionals.
I don't know what to say, except that this team has never gotten to the super-regionals ever in the program's existence. That shouldn't be too shocking; I mean, there are other sports the Gophers haven't been successful in. But this is baseball, a sport where they have won College World Series titles, albeit in the sixties. However, it's difficult to think they'll ever make it that far ever again -- college baseball's an arms race now, and the players are flocking to southern schools because it feels much better to play baseball in February where it's warm outside. As I've said before, the Big Ten is a mid-major when it comes to baseball. But goddammit, we're the Big Ten! How can a BCS conference like us have three teams all get wiped out in the regional round (Indiana went 0-2 with a combined score of 18-2; Ohio State did win twice, but lost to Georgia 24-8 and to Florida State 37-6)? Wouldn't it be easier to ... um ... discontinue the program?
If they don't gas the team, they can play three guys who made this year's Freshman All-American team. Yay?
#-2: Lynx (New!). Don Zierden seemed to be a nice guy, but bailing (tm KARE-11's Randy Shaver, the best sportscaster on local TV) on the Lynx just four days before their home opener was a total bitch-ass move. Why couldn't he quit as soon as Flip Saunders became coach at Washington? Couple that with the sudden ascendancy of Jennifer Gillom, former WNBA player, soon-to-be Hall Of Famer and Assistant Coach under Zierden for two years. The only head coaching experience she has? A girls' high school team in Phoenix. This team may have the same level of talent as Gillom's high school team. But at least she's been there five years, three longer than Zierden's tenure with the Lynx. The bottom line, though, is that Gillom is the sixth coach in the 11 years of this franchise's existence, and the awful timing to this coaching change merely exacerbates the lack of stability that is needed for any franchise to succeed. This team has stockpiled high draft picks and talent, and in basketball, you've got to believe that at some point its fortunes are going to turn around. I've been waiting for the Lynx to rise from the dead the past two seasons, and now, after this, I think they're going to be just as listless and flaccid as they've been all throughout its miserable life. This team should either be moved or put out of its misery.
They kick off the season Saturday and have three games this week: at home to Chicago, at Indiana, then home to Los Angeles. And I'm still kind of ashamed that I have no idea what the team's chances are -- well, besides thinking they'll lose all three because of this blindside resignation.
#-Infinity: Gopher baseball (Last Week: -2). It is what it is. They are eliminated by LSU, final score 10-3. The entire four-team regional actually went to form: 4-seed Southern, 3-seed Baylor and the 2-seed Gophers went out in order in Baton Rouge, and the Tigers, considered the third-best team in the tournament, goes on to super-regionals.
I don't know what to say, except that this team has never gotten to the super-regionals ever in the program's existence. That shouldn't be too shocking; I mean, there are other sports the Gophers haven't been successful in. But this is baseball, a sport where they have won College World Series titles, albeit in the sixties. However, it's difficult to think they'll ever make it that far ever again -- college baseball's an arms race now, and the players are flocking to southern schools because it feels much better to play baseball in February where it's warm outside. As I've said before, the Big Ten is a mid-major when it comes to baseball. But goddammit, we're the Big Ten! How can a BCS conference like us have three teams all get wiped out in the regional round (Indiana went 0-2 with a combined score of 18-2; Ohio State did win twice, but lost to Georgia 24-8 and to Florida State 37-6)? Wouldn't it be easier to ... um ... discontinue the program?
If they don't gas the team, they can play three guys who made this year's Freshman All-American team. Yay?
After starving myself yesterday afternoon doing yardwork, I have eaten:
-A Dome Dog, chips and a small Coke at the Twins game;
-After a lot of internal debating, a large plate of spaghetti with bread after the game;
-Taco Bell for lunch today;
-A chocolate malt at Dairy Queen this afternoon (when it's a buck off);
-A lot of egg rolls and noodles for dinner;
-Caffeine-Free Pepsi while watching late-night talk;
-A too-big piece of Mother's birthday cake afterward;
-And a glass of milk to wash the cake down.
Is that too much? I had a huge cramp on my left side/kidney/appendix after dinner; do you think all my food has something to do with that?
-A Dome Dog, chips and a small Coke at the Twins game;
-After a lot of internal debating, a large plate of spaghetti with bread after the game;
-Taco Bell for lunch today;
-A chocolate malt at Dairy Queen this afternoon (when it's a buck off);
-A lot of egg rolls and noodles for dinner;
-Caffeine-Free Pepsi while watching late-night talk;
-A too-big piece of Mother's birthday cake afterward;
-And a glass of milk to wash the cake down.
Is that too much? I had a huge cramp on my left side/kidney/appendix after dinner; do you think all my food has something to do with that?
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
To Wank Or Not To Wank
Ever get morningwood? Got it yesterday afternoon. Usually I go to the bathroom and, uh, exploit it. But in the past couple years I've started to wonder. It's gotten more difficult to get off, and many times my mind wanders over to, of all things, stuff I need to do that day. I have frequently asked myself, Do I have time for this?
Usually, the answer to that question is No, but I'm doing myself anyway. But yesteray, I just got bored. I stopped what I was doing and began peeing and, because I was doing yardwork outside, putting suntan lotion on me. Using my muscles and my brain drained the blood out of my penis -- voila! No hard-on. And I didn't feel obligated to jerk off.
Surprisingly (I guess), I'm sort of proud of myself for it. Or, I'm just getting old.
Usually, the answer to that question is No, but I'm doing myself anyway. But yesteray, I just got bored. I stopped what I was doing and began peeing and, because I was doing yardwork outside, putting suntan lotion on me. Using my muscles and my brain drained the blood out of my penis -- voila! No hard-on. And I didn't feel obligated to jerk off.
Surprisingly (I guess), I'm sort of proud of myself for it. Or, I'm just getting old.
Good Riddance To That Douchebag Tim Pawlenty
Instead of talking about this evening at the Twins game where I tried to lowball a scalper into giving me a ticket for $10 by counteroffering $9, then seeing another scalper close by guffaw me into shame, I'll talk about Our Teflon Governor, Tim Pawlenty, announcing today that he won't seek a third term as governor of Our Beautiful State.
Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Timmy. For a guy who professes to "Minnesota values," he did his damndest to erase what made Minnesota, well, Minnesota. And he succeeded, too -- succeded in destroying public education and the social welfare net, making us less safe by demanding and getting this insipid conceal and carry law, turning us into a red-state-y Land Of Misfit Toys by sticking his neck out for gay discrimination, and turning politics in this state personal.
Two quotes to pull:
Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Timmy. For a guy who professes to "Minnesota values," he did his damndest to erase what made Minnesota, well, Minnesota. And he succeeded, too -- succeded in destroying public education and the social welfare net, making us less safe by demanding and getting this insipid conceal and carry law, turning us into a red-state-y Land Of Misfit Toys by sticking his neck out for gay discrimination, and turning politics in this state personal.
Two quotes to pull:
"Not ruling anything in or out. I don't have any plans."You're full of shit. You're gonna run for president -- you know it, I know it, every Minnesotan knows it. That's the only reason you're not running for governor.
And you are nothing but a bully, yesman and lapdog. You wanted to run for senator, but Dick Cheney called you just before your press conference announcing your campaign and told you to not do it. Has he given his permission to run now? And your stupid goddamn no-tax pledge -- along with your vow to cut every single program designed to help local government and the poorest among us, reductions in benefits you won't have to answer for now that you've decided not seek re-election, you bastard -- has proved you are nothing but the bitch of that wingnut Grover Norquist. People you are taking health care, day care, work opportunities and social programs from (while leaving your fatcat cronies free and clear from the monetary pain you willingly inflict on the rest of us) are not whiners and complainers; they're ordinary folks trying to get by. And for eight years you have sought to break their will. And now you want to run for president? God, I hope this state understands what you've done to it and turns its back on you."We need leaders and visionaries who are change agents, not whiners and complainers and defenders of the status quo."
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Too Late For McDermott
McDermott is a company, whose stock (ticket symbol: MDR) was recommended in Esquire earlier this year. This stock will go up, the mag said. But I was afraid about not having the money after taxes, so I didn't buy shares of it.
MDR's price Jan. 2: 11 bucks
MDR's price now: 23 bucks
Why did I wait?
MDR's price Jan. 2: 11 bucks
MDR's price now: 23 bucks
Why did I wait?
There's Nothing Like Getting A Handjob From A Stripper
Got one today downtown. ATF. Hadn't gotten one from her in a long time. But she wanked me guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuud. The great ones leave you drained, and they leave some on her. Ah, I think I love her.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Another Goddamn Disaster On Facebook's Poker Palace
Got 10 grand to start playing again. Sure, why not?
My first hand this girl goes all-in. I tap out if I call, but I have A-K. What could she have that she would do this? Even if she has a pair of aces I'd try out my luck. So I push all-in as well.
What did she have? 2-3. And guess what? She got a 4, 5 and 6 on the board. She pulled a straight out of her ass. How the fuck did she know she was going to win a hand with 2-3? Fuckin' bullshit. $2,500, gone.
Played again. A couple of times the computer teased me after I folded the flop. Also, a couple times I folded when I only had a pair, only to realize the other players didn't have much either and I would've won at least one hand. So I go all in on the pot, as do the two others. One wins with a three of a kind. Another $2,500, gone.
Should I play again? After cooling down some, I decide to, but this time only with a grand to play with. The second hand heads-up with this guy, he checks, but I bet $50 because I have a pair. He goes all-in. This guy's bullshittin' -- call. No, he wasn't bullshittin'. He pulled off a straight. He slow-played me. Another $1,000, gone. Only four grand left from what facebook gave me. I thought I'd be really pissed off after pissing it all away for a third time, but I have to say, he did to me what I want to do to others, and I don't really mind. Well played, stranger, well played. ...
My first hand this girl goes all-in. I tap out if I call, but I have A-K. What could she have that she would do this? Even if she has a pair of aces I'd try out my luck. So I push all-in as well.
What did she have? 2-3. And guess what? She got a 4, 5 and 6 on the board. She pulled a straight out of her ass. How the fuck did she know she was going to win a hand with 2-3? Fuckin' bullshit. $2,500, gone.
Played again. A couple of times the computer teased me after I folded the flop. Also, a couple times I folded when I only had a pair, only to realize the other players didn't have much either and I would've won at least one hand. So I go all in on the pot, as do the two others. One wins with a three of a kind. Another $2,500, gone.
Should I play again? After cooling down some, I decide to, but this time only with a grand to play with. The second hand heads-up with this guy, he checks, but I bet $50 because I have a pair. He goes all-in. This guy's bullshittin' -- call. No, he wasn't bullshittin'. He pulled off a straight. He slow-played me. Another $1,000, gone. Only four grand left from what facebook gave me. I thought I'd be really pissed off after pissing it all away for a third time, but I have to say, he did to me what I want to do to others, and I don't really mind. Well played, stranger, well played. ...
Mother's Birthday Dinner Was A Fucking Disaster ...
... and My Fucking Father was the cause of it all. First I went around my brother to get some salad, who came home for dinner, and my dad went "No!" in that whiny voice of his and shoved the plate in front of my placemat. And then he wouldn't stop talking about how Sonia Sotomayor wouldn't survive her confirmation hearing to be the new Supreme Court Justice and how angry he was that the Obamas went out on a date to New York City on the taxpayers' dime (although I don't mind the President enjoying himself once in a while, I kind of see his point).
But the thing that really set me off was when we started eating the birthday cake. I got up to do something in the kitchen while my mom was handing out slices. While in the kitchen My Fucking Father asked me to get a fork. I guess when my Grandmother got some of the plastic utensils, she got four instead of five or grabbed a knife or something, and my dad needed one. So I grab a fork. But when I get back to my seat and hand it to him, I see that asshole eating his cake with my spoon. The spoon I grabbed. For me. Not for him. Fucker.
He did that once before. I complained and he started going off on me for still living at home. Not only is stealing utensils a pet peeve of mine, I inevitably think he's going to use my reaction as an entree to listing my limitations. He didn't, but it may be because we were celebrating mom's birthday.
So I played along. When we got done I plopped my paper plate on top of his ... but then took his placemat to the trash. I helped clean up, although he was going to clean the dishes anyway because he always does. (Maybe he thinks that because he's doing the chore he can be a dick whenever he wants to. Uh, I don't think so.) I turned off the TV because that's what I usually do when we get done with dinner, but 60 Minutes re-ran a feature of the closing of a bank, so he asked me to turn it on. I did, tilted it his way towards the kitchen, but turned the volume down because, really, it was too fucking loud all dinner. I brought it down from, like, 70 to, like, 40. He then wanted me to turn it up, so I did ... but just a little, to 45 or so. Then I washed my hands. On the way out I saw my mom turn it back up all the way.
And then my dad sat down to watch the piece. I decided I needed to put the empty containers out to recycle, and they really needed to be put out, I really didn't do it just to piss off my dad. A milk crate is holding down the top of the container so the bottles and cans inside don't jump and fly out. But I had to drop it somewhere, so I dropped it on the deck -- not hard, not anything louder than usual, but it was enough for my dad to look back at me from his chair. I said "Sorry!" but a couple minutes later he got up and started washing dishes again. I don't know if he did that because he no longer was interested in the story -- he does have the attention span of a gnat some times -- or if he got pissed off that I was getting back at him passive-aggressively. He hasn't talked to me since dinner.
I felt bad before I started blogging this. I was going to say I feared his retribution tomorrow. But after the shit he pulled on me, what with taking my spoon, I'm not feeling that guilty anymore. Besides, I did some things to him in retaliation. I have to realize that through those actions, I owned my anger towards my father and that I am inviting, if not courting, an ugly response from him. Because, really, I've tried to be nice to him and to let the things he's done to me slide off my back, only for him to jump on my ass for something different. At least in this case I "did something" to stoke his anger.
In short, I don't feel bad anymore for what I did to him because of what he did to me.
But the thing that really set me off was when we started eating the birthday cake. I got up to do something in the kitchen while my mom was handing out slices. While in the kitchen My Fucking Father asked me to get a fork. I guess when my Grandmother got some of the plastic utensils, she got four instead of five or grabbed a knife or something, and my dad needed one. So I grab a fork. But when I get back to my seat and hand it to him, I see that asshole eating his cake with my spoon. The spoon I grabbed. For me. Not for him. Fucker.
He did that once before. I complained and he started going off on me for still living at home. Not only is stealing utensils a pet peeve of mine, I inevitably think he's going to use my reaction as an entree to listing my limitations. He didn't, but it may be because we were celebrating mom's birthday.
So I played along. When we got done I plopped my paper plate on top of his ... but then took his placemat to the trash. I helped clean up, although he was going to clean the dishes anyway because he always does. (Maybe he thinks that because he's doing the chore he can be a dick whenever he wants to. Uh, I don't think so.) I turned off the TV because that's what I usually do when we get done with dinner, but 60 Minutes re-ran a feature of the closing of a bank, so he asked me to turn it on. I did, tilted it his way towards the kitchen, but turned the volume down because, really, it was too fucking loud all dinner. I brought it down from, like, 70 to, like, 40. He then wanted me to turn it up, so I did ... but just a little, to 45 or so. Then I washed my hands. On the way out I saw my mom turn it back up all the way.
And then my dad sat down to watch the piece. I decided I needed to put the empty containers out to recycle, and they really needed to be put out, I really didn't do it just to piss off my dad. A milk crate is holding down the top of the container so the bottles and cans inside don't jump and fly out. But I had to drop it somewhere, so I dropped it on the deck -- not hard, not anything louder than usual, but it was enough for my dad to look back at me from his chair. I said "Sorry!" but a couple minutes later he got up and started washing dishes again. I don't know if he did that because he no longer was interested in the story -- he does have the attention span of a gnat some times -- or if he got pissed off that I was getting back at him passive-aggressively. He hasn't talked to me since dinner.
I felt bad before I started blogging this. I was going to say I feared his retribution tomorrow. But after the shit he pulled on me, what with taking my spoon, I'm not feeling that guilty anymore. Besides, I did some things to him in retaliation. I have to realize that through those actions, I owned my anger towards my father and that I am inviting, if not courting, an ugly response from him. Because, really, I've tried to be nice to him and to let the things he's done to me slide off my back, only for him to jump on my ass for something different. At least in this case I "did something" to stoke his anger.
In short, I don't feel bad anymore for what I did to him because of what he did to me.
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