#-1: Vikings (Last Week: -3). These guys were 14 1/2-point underdogs. A Super Bowl contender coming into the season was on the short side of the largest spread of the week. And somehow, someway, behind the green arm and legs of Joe Webb, the Vikings came into Philadelphia's Lincoln Financial Field (two days later than scheduled) and took control of enough of the game to defeat the Eagles by ten. They took advantage of a team playing in slow-motion and in a state of disbelief, as if they can't believe they're playing a game on Tuesday night, and therefore it must not count as a real game. Still, I had such low expectations for a team I thought quit that this victory over a playoff-bound, division-winning team counts as a stunner. I wish we had more of these from this club.
Season ends Sunday afternoon at Detroit. Even with this win, I still could totally see these guys lose to a rapidly improving Lions organization. And by the way: What's the use to trot out Brett Favre for one more start? He is still concussed, his shoulder probably still hurts, the streak is over, and he'll be playing to a road crowd. Besides, what's he going to do -- hand off to Adrian Peterson a few times, then wave to the fans at the end of the first (three-and-out) drive?
#-2: Timberwolves (Last Week: -4). They won more games this screening week than they lost? Really?? Guess so -- wins over Cleveland and New Orleans before losing Wednesday night at home to Denver. Like I said before, there was a chance I had to make a choice in games I was treated my brother-in-law to, the Wednesday loss to Denver or last Wednesday's loss to Utah. In the game we saw last week, the Woofie Dogs fell behind for good with 33.5 seconds left to go. In the Nuggets game, they fell behind for good with about nine minutes left in the fourth quarter. Is it better to see your team lose in the final minute or some time in the last quarter? Guess I could go either way.
But let's talk about the two wins. They were trailing on the road in Cleveland, a team still reeling from the loss of LeBron James and with no hope for this season. But Michael Beasley, the closest thing this club has to a go-to guy, drives for the game-winning layup with seconds to go to pull out the win and the sweep of the Cavs. Even more inexplicable is the 113-98, start-to-finish shellacking of the Bastard Charlotte Hornets and Arguably The Best Point Guard In The NBA, Chris Paul. It is very unsafe to conclude from these two wins that the Wolves have enough talent to eke out road wins over bad teams and outrace demoralized ones.
This week: A New Year's Night game against the Bastard New York Nets, then at Boston two days later, then home against Charlotte two days later. I should be at that Bobcats game with complimentary tickets!
#-3: Wild (Last Week: 0). A 1-2 week, and the losses were pretty awful. On Sunday they fell behind Detroit 4-0, and after the end of the first and second periods, the team was booed off the X ice. Their response to the home crowd was one goal. The next night they took a 2-1 lead at Columbus before giving up two goals 41 seconds apart (by the way, love the BJ's third jerseys). Cal Clusterfuck tied it, but the Wild lost in a shootout.
They were much better Wednesday night at home when they won after trailing at the start of the third period for the first time all year. They pissed away a four-minute power play to start the 3rd, but they scored three goals 5:21 apart to beat San Jose 5-3. Did you know that one of the goal-scorers in that spasm, Brent Burns, is second among all defensemen in goals scored? He might be a keeper.
This week: A New Year's Eve matinee tomorrow vs. Nashville, Sunday at home against the Bastard Winnipeg Jets, then at the Bastard Colorado Rockies (and charter Wild Head Coach Jacques Lemaire) Tuesday and at Boston Thursday.
#-4: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -2). One game: They start the Big Ten season with a dispiriting 68-60 loss at Wisconsin, a team that's regularly been ranked and has been better than Minnesota but was ranked behind the Gophs coming into this game. They choked away a late lead because of bad perimeter defense, turnovers and the Badgers' blocked shots. They say that this is the best team Tubby Smith has assembled on campus, and yet they seem to lose their nerve late in big games against game opponents. It's not going to get any easier in their next game: A New Year's Eve afternoon tilt tomorrow at Michigan St. They have their home opener Tuesday against Indiana.
#-5: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -1). One game: They start the Big Ten season with a soulless 64-50 loss at Illinois. They did not make a single three-pointer. This team they lost to is no Stanford, or even UConn: The Fighting Illini came in with an overall record of 6-8. How in the fuck does a BcS school come into conference play under .500? Did they overschedule powerhouse teams, or were they that underachieving in tournaments? No matter -- that 6-8 team beat our Gophs. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: When will Athletic Director Joel Maturi put the heat on Head Coach Pam Borton?
They open the home portion of their Big Ten schedule with their two games this week: Indiana Sunday, Iowa Wednesday.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Too Much Food
We already have too much food in the house. My parents are being hypocritical when they say Grandmother's the one to buy stuff we don't eat when they do a lot of the same -- pastries, sauces and spreads, and especially things that are on sale.
It's gotten worse this holiday season:
It's gotten worse this holiday season:
- One of my parents' vendors sends home an annual gift basket. This year's a huge one, a bouquet of chocolates.
- Before my sister and brother-in-law visited for vacation they asked me if I wanted anything from Switzerland. I said chocolates. I think the presumption is only one. My folks possibly asked for more, but one night I came up from downstairs and saw my sis display all these chocolates they brought over.
- I didn't help when I went to Godiva yesterday and, in a hands-out gesture for givine me a free chocolate every month, I bought four truffles for five bucks. We have millions of pieces of chocolate floating around our house, and I buy four more. And I got a free piece for December, too. I ate three pieces of chocolate before leaving the Megamall.
- Finally, my sister and brother-in-law, disguised as a way to get Father feeling good before asking his permission to get married again, took the entire family out to Fogo de Chão, the Brazilian steakhouse. I'll explain the gist of the place this way: It's a meat buffet that comes to your table. You have a disk. If you flip it on its red side, you want no meat. If you flip it on its green side, every single "gaucho" with a skewer will come over to your table and offer you the slice of beef, pork or lamb they have. At our hungriest, all of us flipped our disks green. My God, the scene of every single "gaucho" at our table, serving us these succulent cuts of beef, was like ants coming out of hibernation in the spring, descending on a piece of food dropped on our floor. And we were full. A good full, but full.
- When we left, we were given three boxes of this Brazilian cake. I'm so grateful for the idea that Fogo de Chão would give us something after we paid our bill, but food was the last thing we needed. Next week for sure I'm taking one of those boxes to Second Harvest.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Snapshots From A Holiday Visit From My Sister And Brother-In-Law (IV)
Maybe I should've blogged about this before because it plays such a huge part of my life, maybe it goes without saying. But another effect of my sister and brother-in-law staying in my sister's old room right next to me is that I have to control my horniness. I sure as hell don't plan on touching myself while they're here, but I don't even want to have unpure thoughts as they sleep mere feet from me. I can last till they leave, at least.
But I gave myself one last hurrah by stopping off at the stripclub before the airport tonight. There, I ran into a complication that might make it very "hard" for me to not touch my pee-pee.
Of the four girls working the shift, three of them were hot, in my opinion. Only one of them was downright ugly, but I was staying there for more than an hour, and I didn't want to be rude, so as I tipped the hot three, I tipped her too.
The first thing she did when I went right up the stage was throw her leg around me, bend her knee fast and violently trap my head inbetween her thighs. I might -- might -- let that go if a hot chick did that to me, but a hot chick she is not. It hurt, and my pursed lips let her know it.
She responded by pinching my shoulders and neck, and that made me feel better. "I do massages," she said, and so I know think that I could let my standards of physical attractiveness lower a tad if she does this as a profession.
Just before I was about to leave, she came by and asked for a dance. I didn't really want to get a dance from her, but I was well past that stupid scissor lock thing she did to me. We had a very quick conversation about her massage service. I declined her offer to get a quick rubdown in lieu of a lapdance for twenty bucks, but I was intrigued at what her prices were. It was $80-100, with a special for this time of year because it's so slow. The piece of information that really piqued my interest? When I asked her for a business card, she said she didn't have one.
Maybe it was because I was thinking with my little head and not my big one, but at this point I thought, "Oh -- is it ... that kind of massage service?" Eighty to a hundred bucks for a massage is too damn expensive, but if the ending is as happy as I think I'm led to believe, maybe it'll be worth it!
She volunteered to give me her number, then asked for mine. I didn't have a pen or paper, so she went to ask for them from the waitress I've had an up-and-down "relationship" with -- you know, the one that used to dance there, who gave me a couple quick handjobs when I went to private parties she was dancing, then told me to go fuck myself when I threw her a couple dollars to flash me her awesomely huge titties even though she was showing them to everybody else. We have been cool, for lack of a better word, since; I just don't ask to see her boobs anymore.
Anyway, ask the stripper moved on to another guy -- did she forget that quickly? Oh, what she was saying was just stripper shit! -- the waitress comes over with a pen and paper and sits down with me. "You know why I'm here," she said. Uh, no I don't. She got me my coffee a half-hour after I got to the bar. She chills by talking to the regulars, which is OK because most of the time I just want to be left alone. But this attention she was giving me was flattering; it made me feel like old times, when I only needed to softly cajole her into masturbating me.
"I lost your number," she said, and she wanted mine again. Turns out I was giving my phone number to two girls tonight! After I wrote it down -- and got reassurance that her number was still good -- she got up and kissed me! Well, a Happy New Year to me!
The mind races right now ... so maybe this stripper does happy endings ... and the barmaid now works in the same parlor, so she now gives handjobs without any hesitation. Honestly, tonight I imagined I just gone done cumming by this dancer, and we're walking out of the room, and outside were some of the other "masseuses" -- all of them just as not hot as she was, all of them minorities, but I was so sexually drained and yet still so horny that, after I was assured no other guys were there and one of the other women grabbed my junk, I'd let my cock out and they took turns wanking me right in the open -- for free!
What complicates all of this is the drug study I'm still a part of. I would love to rub one out as soon as they leave. But I have to see my researcher and give her back all my pills next week, then ejaculate two different days. To make sure my samples are good, I have to abstain from onanism for between two and five days. If I have to come in next week, the latest I could choke my chicken would be this weekend ... while my sister and brother-in-law are still here. Oh well, guess I can make it a week. For science!
But I gave myself one last hurrah by stopping off at the stripclub before the airport tonight. There, I ran into a complication that might make it very "hard" for me to not touch my pee-pee.
Of the four girls working the shift, three of them were hot, in my opinion. Only one of them was downright ugly, but I was staying there for more than an hour, and I didn't want to be rude, so as I tipped the hot three, I tipped her too.
The first thing she did when I went right up the stage was throw her leg around me, bend her knee fast and violently trap my head inbetween her thighs. I might -- might -- let that go if a hot chick did that to me, but a hot chick she is not. It hurt, and my pursed lips let her know it.
She responded by pinching my shoulders and neck, and that made me feel better. "I do massages," she said, and so I know think that I could let my standards of physical attractiveness lower a tad if she does this as a profession.
Just before I was about to leave, she came by and asked for a dance. I didn't really want to get a dance from her, but I was well past that stupid scissor lock thing she did to me. We had a very quick conversation about her massage service. I declined her offer to get a quick rubdown in lieu of a lapdance for twenty bucks, but I was intrigued at what her prices were. It was $80-100, with a special for this time of year because it's so slow. The piece of information that really piqued my interest? When I asked her for a business card, she said she didn't have one.
Maybe it was because I was thinking with my little head and not my big one, but at this point I thought, "Oh -- is it ... that kind of massage service?" Eighty to a hundred bucks for a massage is too damn expensive, but if the ending is as happy as I think I'm led to believe, maybe it'll be worth it!
She volunteered to give me her number, then asked for mine. I didn't have a pen or paper, so she went to ask for them from the waitress I've had an up-and-down "relationship" with -- you know, the one that used to dance there, who gave me a couple quick handjobs when I went to private parties she was dancing, then told me to go fuck myself when I threw her a couple dollars to flash me her awesomely huge titties even though she was showing them to everybody else. We have been cool, for lack of a better word, since; I just don't ask to see her boobs anymore.
Anyway, ask the stripper moved on to another guy -- did she forget that quickly? Oh, what she was saying was just stripper shit! -- the waitress comes over with a pen and paper and sits down with me. "You know why I'm here," she said. Uh, no I don't. She got me my coffee a half-hour after I got to the bar. She chills by talking to the regulars, which is OK because most of the time I just want to be left alone. But this attention she was giving me was flattering; it made me feel like old times, when I only needed to softly cajole her into masturbating me.
"I lost your number," she said, and she wanted mine again. Turns out I was giving my phone number to two girls tonight! After I wrote it down -- and got reassurance that her number was still good -- she got up and kissed me! Well, a Happy New Year to me!
The mind races right now ... so maybe this stripper does happy endings ... and the barmaid now works in the same parlor, so she now gives handjobs without any hesitation. Honestly, tonight I imagined I just gone done cumming by this dancer, and we're walking out of the room, and outside were some of the other "masseuses" -- all of them just as not hot as she was, all of them minorities, but I was so sexually drained and yet still so horny that, after I was assured no other guys were there and one of the other women grabbed my junk, I'd let my cock out and they took turns wanking me right in the open -- for free!
What complicates all of this is the drug study I'm still a part of. I would love to rub one out as soon as they leave. But I have to see my researcher and give her back all my pills next week, then ejaculate two different days. To make sure my samples are good, I have to abstain from onanism for between two and five days. If I have to come in next week, the latest I could choke my chicken would be this weekend ... while my sister and brother-in-law are still here. Oh well, guess I can make it a week. For science!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
It All Goes Back To Grandmother
Grandmother's not getting the insulin shots. I mean, it's been five days and she still doesn't remember the steps to injecting herself. I've been pissed off a few times as I let her learn for herself and she continues to forget just about every single step I told her. At this rate she will have to wake me up around 10 or so every single goddamn day, and when I'm out at night or if I'm on vacation, she will need to skip her medication -- and/or die.
Today was an frustrating day where I, and it turns out the entire family, had to take time out of our day to tend to her needs and mistakes. First of all, I wake up to see Grandmother headed out to get her hair done. But she needs help getting through the path to the driveway where her friend's car is. There are icicles right above it, and the warming and cooling of the day has dripped water onto the path, where it freezes. There are solid inches of ice on it, and she has already slipped on it once.
She got through it, but goddamn if she didn't tell me to bust up the ice while she was gone. I said "Sure, sure" because I planned on going to a movie. But just before I left there I was, outside, using the pick to bust up the ice. (And failing, by the way.)
Then I got cold feet when I got to the theater. Regal Cinemas' new policy regarding popcorn on Tuesdays (long story) doesn't kick in until the new year. There is one more Tuesday where all club members get popcorn for a buck; starting next year, it'll be two. So why am I going now?
That was the last out-of-nowhere factor that convinced me not to go to the movies today. I have a lot of other things I need to do -- help with My Father's tax forms, reapply for unemployment, talk to this Amway guy about setting up a meeting -- so I figure I might as well not put it off till tomorrow. So I go home, do all of those things -- and bust up more ice on the pathway with the pick.
She needs to take her insulin before breakfast and dinner. I come back just before dinner to help her with her shot. She stumbles and bumbles through it again, and once we're done (it took about 10-5 minutes) we come to see that my parents are already eating the take-home chicken.
After dinner I see Father using this mini-rooter thing in the laundry room. The sewer there plugs frequently and backs up to the floor. I peered over his shoulder as he was feeding rope down through the plugged-up hole of water. Seeing the rooter thingy spin and spin and spin was mesmerizing, to be honest.
Grandmother frequently complains about the backup, and I believe (I'm not sure, I can't tell what she's saying) that she believes that the washer and dryer can't handle the big loads of laundry she wants to clean, so she's reduced to doing smaller loads. But when My Father came home he bitched about her using the washer-and-dryer every day.
When he finally managed to unclog the sewer and pull out the snake, snagged on its end was a piece of lint, the kind that often drains from the washer. He had me turn on the sink to see if it drained perfectly now; it didn't. So on went the mini-rooter, and out came another piece of lint. It occurred to me that, if it is possible to prevent that lint to drain into the sewer, this was Grandmother's fault.
Father was being particularly nice, even gentle, to me tonight. I actually felt kind of sorry for him as he limped around for dinner. He didn't bark at me to get at kitchen knife like he could've. And he told me I could go exercise after I helped him with testing the sewer. His behavior tonight made me feel bad for him -- and feel anger towards my Grandmother.
We ran out of diabetes test strips this morning after I tested her. I forgot to check if we had more, and once I saw before dinner that we didn't, I told her I couldn't test her. But later on in the evening, just before going to work out, she told me to go to Target and get some. I should never have checked up on her before leaving. Instead, I felt compelled to go to Target before the gym. Turns out I couldn't get strips; a prescription was needed for insurance to cover it. I'll have to come back tomorrow. Once again, my plans ruined because of my needy Grandmother.
Telling her about this tonight was the kicker. I couldn't communicate this to her in Chinese, and yet from what she was saying I don't think she understood:
I can't check your sugar level tonight. I don't have the strips.
Why?
Insurance won't pay without a prescription. They already asked the doctor.
So you can't test me?
No. I don't have the strips.
You do?
No. I don't. I'll have to get them tomorrow.
Oh. Why can't I have them?
Because the doctor needs to OK it.
So what do I have to do?
Nothing, I'll go tomorrow and get them.
OK. Maybe my nurse needs to talk to them.
No. Not necessary.
Why?
Because they need to talk to the doctor!
Oh, the doctor. You and me, we'll go to Target, and I'll then get them.
Why was I born into a family that doesn't speak English?
On and on this bullshit went for five excruciatingly long minutes. I don't know if her inability and/or refusal to acknowledge that I don't have the test strips is the result of dementia. I kept losing it and raising my voice, so much so that she told me to stop yelling and come inside and shut the door, but I refused because I wanted her to goddamn acknowledge that I don't have her fucking test strips. Finally I walked away, not knowing if she understood at all or if I even "won" the damn argument, which was my only goal by the time I got done talking to her.
I'm still so fed up by that conversation, and Grandmother this whole fuckin' day, that I'm giving up on her -- not just with the insulin injections, but her. I want to stay out for New Year's Day, and I no longer give a shit that I won't be there to help her with her insulin. I might set up the stuff for her, but then she's on her own, and if she doesn't get it, fuck her, she doesn't get it.
Today was an frustrating day where I, and it turns out the entire family, had to take time out of our day to tend to her needs and mistakes. First of all, I wake up to see Grandmother headed out to get her hair done. But she needs help getting through the path to the driveway where her friend's car is. There are icicles right above it, and the warming and cooling of the day has dripped water onto the path, where it freezes. There are solid inches of ice on it, and she has already slipped on it once.
She got through it, but goddamn if she didn't tell me to bust up the ice while she was gone. I said "Sure, sure" because I planned on going to a movie. But just before I left there I was, outside, using the pick to bust up the ice. (And failing, by the way.)
Then I got cold feet when I got to the theater. Regal Cinemas' new policy regarding popcorn on Tuesdays (long story) doesn't kick in until the new year. There is one more Tuesday where all club members get popcorn for a buck; starting next year, it'll be two. So why am I going now?
That was the last out-of-nowhere factor that convinced me not to go to the movies today. I have a lot of other things I need to do -- help with My Father's tax forms, reapply for unemployment, talk to this Amway guy about setting up a meeting -- so I figure I might as well not put it off till tomorrow. So I go home, do all of those things -- and bust up more ice on the pathway with the pick.
She needs to take her insulin before breakfast and dinner. I come back just before dinner to help her with her shot. She stumbles and bumbles through it again, and once we're done (it took about 10-5 minutes) we come to see that my parents are already eating the take-home chicken.
After dinner I see Father using this mini-rooter thing in the laundry room. The sewer there plugs frequently and backs up to the floor. I peered over his shoulder as he was feeding rope down through the plugged-up hole of water. Seeing the rooter thingy spin and spin and spin was mesmerizing, to be honest.
Grandmother frequently complains about the backup, and I believe (I'm not sure, I can't tell what she's saying) that she believes that the washer and dryer can't handle the big loads of laundry she wants to clean, so she's reduced to doing smaller loads. But when My Father came home he bitched about her using the washer-and-dryer every day.
When he finally managed to unclog the sewer and pull out the snake, snagged on its end was a piece of lint, the kind that often drains from the washer. He had me turn on the sink to see if it drained perfectly now; it didn't. So on went the mini-rooter, and out came another piece of lint. It occurred to me that, if it is possible to prevent that lint to drain into the sewer, this was Grandmother's fault.
Father was being particularly nice, even gentle, to me tonight. I actually felt kind of sorry for him as he limped around for dinner. He didn't bark at me to get at kitchen knife like he could've. And he told me I could go exercise after I helped him with testing the sewer. His behavior tonight made me feel bad for him -- and feel anger towards my Grandmother.
We ran out of diabetes test strips this morning after I tested her. I forgot to check if we had more, and once I saw before dinner that we didn't, I told her I couldn't test her. But later on in the evening, just before going to work out, she told me to go to Target and get some. I should never have checked up on her before leaving. Instead, I felt compelled to go to Target before the gym. Turns out I couldn't get strips; a prescription was needed for insurance to cover it. I'll have to come back tomorrow. Once again, my plans ruined because of my needy Grandmother.
Telling her about this tonight was the kicker. I couldn't communicate this to her in Chinese, and yet from what she was saying I don't think she understood:
I can't check your sugar level tonight. I don't have the strips.
Why?
Insurance won't pay without a prescription. They already asked the doctor.
So you can't test me?
No. I don't have the strips.
You do?
No. I don't. I'll have to get them tomorrow.
Oh. Why can't I have them?
Because the doctor needs to OK it.
So what do I have to do?
Nothing, I'll go tomorrow and get them.
OK. Maybe my nurse needs to talk to them.
No. Not necessary.
Why?
Because they need to talk to the doctor!
Oh, the doctor. You and me, we'll go to Target, and I'll then get them.
Why was I born into a family that doesn't speak English?
On and on this bullshit went for five excruciatingly long minutes. I don't know if her inability and/or refusal to acknowledge that I don't have the test strips is the result of dementia. I kept losing it and raising my voice, so much so that she told me to stop yelling and come inside and shut the door, but I refused because I wanted her to goddamn acknowledge that I don't have her fucking test strips. Finally I walked away, not knowing if she understood at all or if I even "won" the damn argument, which was my only goal by the time I got done talking to her.
I'm still so fed up by that conversation, and Grandmother this whole fuckin' day, that I'm giving up on her -- not just with the insulin injections, but her. I want to stay out for New Year's Day, and I no longer give a shit that I won't be there to help her with her insulin. I might set up the stuff for her, but then she's on her own, and if she doesn't get it, fuck her, she doesn't get it.
Monday, December 27, 2010
My Reusable Mug Comes Back To Me!
This happened a few weeks ago.
So, because I was worried about the blizzard we still were contending with, as well as impending and future snowstorms, my mind was preoccupied. One day, I noticed that my reusable mug, the one I now take with me to be filled up with coffee in exchange for a discount, was missing from the passenger's-side floormat, where I usually throw it.
I always do this: Have my mind so filled with ... stuff that I misplace things. My forgetfulness once again shames me. So I retrace my steps to the coffeeshop I probably lost it at. I asked the girl working the counter if my mug's in their lost and found. It wasn't. Damn. Either someone took it or one of the workers threw it away. Poor reusable is lost forever.
But ... I just can't let go. My relationship with this coffeeshop, the one closest to me, the one I've been relying on ever since I got their membership card, would forever be changed if I didn't exhaust every single reasonable avenue to retrieve my beloved mug. If I didn't, how could I ever march back into that place ordering coffee when I would subconsciously blame them for losing my mug?
So the next time I went for coffee at this place, I figure I'll ask again. Different people working behind the counter. So I describe the mug, "It's from the University of St. Thomas and it's grey. ..."
And just then, Bree, this cute barista chick I see from time to time, pipes up and says, "We have it! A customer brought it to us!" Bree looks down underneath the counter and immediately hammers my mug, my beautiful mug I missed for five long days, down on it! Yes, there is a God!!
I should give the human race a little more credit. There's no reason anyone would want to steal somebody else's mug, so why would I believe it? But I nonetheless was surprised that someone would not want to keep something that's not theirs.
I've had the mug with me ever since. It's never going to leave my sight!
So, because I was worried about the blizzard we still were contending with, as well as impending and future snowstorms, my mind was preoccupied. One day, I noticed that my reusable mug, the one I now take with me to be filled up with coffee in exchange for a discount, was missing from the passenger's-side floormat, where I usually throw it.
I always do this: Have my mind so filled with ... stuff that I misplace things. My forgetfulness once again shames me. So I retrace my steps to the coffeeshop I probably lost it at. I asked the girl working the counter if my mug's in their lost and found. It wasn't. Damn. Either someone took it or one of the workers threw it away. Poor reusable is lost forever.
But ... I just can't let go. My relationship with this coffeeshop, the one closest to me, the one I've been relying on ever since I got their membership card, would forever be changed if I didn't exhaust every single reasonable avenue to retrieve my beloved mug. If I didn't, how could I ever march back into that place ordering coffee when I would subconsciously blame them for losing my mug?
So the next time I went for coffee at this place, I figure I'll ask again. Different people working behind the counter. So I describe the mug, "It's from the University of St. Thomas and it's grey. ..."
And just then, Bree, this cute barista chick I see from time to time, pipes up and says, "We have it! A customer brought it to us!" Bree looks down underneath the counter and immediately hammers my mug, my beautiful mug I missed for five long days, down on it! Yes, there is a God!!
I should give the human race a little more credit. There's no reason anyone would want to steal somebody else's mug, so why would I believe it? But I nonetheless was surprised that someone would not want to keep something that's not theirs.
I've had the mug with me ever since. It's never going to leave my sight!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
I Made Yellow Snow
This happened late night Thursday/early Friday morning, the day I dropped off my family at the airport and the evening I went out with a friend of dinner and the BTAA's -- and the time of our latest snowstorm.
I had to go fill in for my parents the next morning. The meterologists said we were going to get a coating -- a couple of inches at best. But it didn't look like a coating when we started dinner, nor when I was done for the evening. That night they said a band of snow "filled in" over the metro area -- whatever the fuck that means.
What was supposed to be a coating turned out to be half a foot. And with the amount of snowfall and the number of blizzards we've had so far this season, I think I hit a wall.
After getting home I knew I had to get a jump on the shoveling. I was going to be in no mood to shovel in the morning, let alone six inches. And I couldn't just clear my driveway; because the city instructs its plowers to clear main roads of snow as much as possible, after snowstorms the end of the driveway dams up with snow, which will harden into much-harder-to-shovel boulders and ice come morning. So I had to clear a good chunk of my street to mitigate that.
I shoveled twice that evening/morning. By the second time, I was getting a little pissy. Literally. I was sick and tired that the weatherpeople got the forecast wrong. I was angry that I had to dig my way out of the remnants of another blizzard. Meanwhile, I finally felt free now that my parents and, in particular, my sister and brother-in-law weren't in the house. I mean, I love that they're visiting, but like I said before, it's been an adjustment, and tonight made me feel good about things going back to normal. I could be my perverted self again.
Of course, I couldn't truly feel that because I had some fucking shoveling to do. And it was still coming down, and I didn't know whether I could push out of my driveway when I had to work in the morn. So with all of that, I remembered, of all things, the last time I peed in the snow. And by God, on this night, under these weather conditions, with all the shit I'm going through, that seemed like the right thing to do!
It was, I think, past bar close -- maybe even 3 o'clock. No cars passed by the whole time I was out there, and after I checked one last time to make sure the coast was clear, I went to the fence on the far side of the garage, right around the same place where I did the last time, unzipped myself, reached in through my long underwear, took my dick out, and started pissing on the snowbank.
I'm glad that I drank something before coming out; that way I had a powerful jet of urine penetrating and melting all this goddamn snow. It was a pittance compared to the mounds I had all around me, of course. But honestly, I truly felt like I was fighting back on the evil forces of snow. Plus, relieving myself felt real good!
To specify where exactly I was, I was doing this up at the top of the driveway, with my back to the front door. If you were standing at the end of our driveway, you would've seen me and my dick in profile. Yeah, it was dangerous. The neighbors, as they typically do, have their lights on even though their blinds are drawn; if someone wanted to pull them open real quick to see what that peeing sound was, they could've seen me going to the bathroom in the night sky. Good thing they or no one else caught me. Still, the chance that I could've been caught was one of the reasons I did it. Besides all the tension regarding the snowfall, I wanted to be naughty!
The best part happened after I finished urinating. The air was still all night, but in came a soft breeze that hit my cock. The wind cooled a dick that just got done spitting fire, and was still in desperate need of a good wankin' to take away the semen it was carrying.
I had to go fill in for my parents the next morning. The meterologists said we were going to get a coating -- a couple of inches at best. But it didn't look like a coating when we started dinner, nor when I was done for the evening. That night they said a band of snow "filled in" over the metro area -- whatever the fuck that means.
What was supposed to be a coating turned out to be half a foot. And with the amount of snowfall and the number of blizzards we've had so far this season, I think I hit a wall.
After getting home I knew I had to get a jump on the shoveling. I was going to be in no mood to shovel in the morning, let alone six inches. And I couldn't just clear my driveway; because the city instructs its plowers to clear main roads of snow as much as possible, after snowstorms the end of the driveway dams up with snow, which will harden into much-harder-to-shovel boulders and ice come morning. So I had to clear a good chunk of my street to mitigate that.
I shoveled twice that evening/morning. By the second time, I was getting a little pissy. Literally. I was sick and tired that the weatherpeople got the forecast wrong. I was angry that I had to dig my way out of the remnants of another blizzard. Meanwhile, I finally felt free now that my parents and, in particular, my sister and brother-in-law weren't in the house. I mean, I love that they're visiting, but like I said before, it's been an adjustment, and tonight made me feel good about things going back to normal. I could be my perverted self again.
Of course, I couldn't truly feel that because I had some fucking shoveling to do. And it was still coming down, and I didn't know whether I could push out of my driveway when I had to work in the morn. So with all of that, I remembered, of all things, the last time I peed in the snow. And by God, on this night, under these weather conditions, with all the shit I'm going through, that seemed like the right thing to do!
It was, I think, past bar close -- maybe even 3 o'clock. No cars passed by the whole time I was out there, and after I checked one last time to make sure the coast was clear, I went to the fence on the far side of the garage, right around the same place where I did the last time, unzipped myself, reached in through my long underwear, took my dick out, and started pissing on the snowbank.
I'm glad that I drank something before coming out; that way I had a powerful jet of urine penetrating and melting all this goddamn snow. It was a pittance compared to the mounds I had all around me, of course. But honestly, I truly felt like I was fighting back on the evil forces of snow. Plus, relieving myself felt real good!
To specify where exactly I was, I was doing this up at the top of the driveway, with my back to the front door. If you were standing at the end of our driveway, you would've seen me and my dick in profile. Yeah, it was dangerous. The neighbors, as they typically do, have their lights on even though their blinds are drawn; if someone wanted to pull them open real quick to see what that peeing sound was, they could've seen me going to the bathroom in the night sky. Good thing they or no one else caught me. Still, the chance that I could've been caught was one of the reasons I did it. Besides all the tension regarding the snowfall, I wanted to be naughty!
The best part happened after I finished urinating. The air was still all night, but in came a soft breeze that hit my cock. The wind cooled a dick that just got done spitting fire, and was still in desperate need of a good wankin' to take away the semen it was carrying.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Drunk Stranger
Being a Buddhist, I have nothing to do for Christmas, especially since my parents are in Vegas. So what do I do? Go out to the only stripclub open Christmas Eve.
Except that it wasn't. What? They advertised it. So I didn't know what to do. I actually had a couple moments where I thought about going to this nightclub instead of this stripclub, but after I saw the titty bar was closed and that the nightclub had a lot of people there -- and speculated that going into the place past midnight probably meant a $20 cover -- I decided against it.
But I didn't know where to go. I went from downtown to Nordeast to see if this other titty bar was open (it wasn't), back to downtown to reconsider going into this nightclub, then finally back to Nordeast. The first bar I saw for sure open was the one I decided to hit.
So I go in to this place, one I've heard about, and I sit and have a beer, with the intention of taking the bar in and people-watching. But soon after I find an open stool at the bar, this fat woman sits at the stool next to me. She said she was somewhere down the bar, but wanted to avoid this inebriated person from talking to her.
Turns out the inebriated person to avoid at this bar was her.
I don't know if I gave off the sense that I was open to talking to strangers tonight. I wasn't. This is Christmas Eve and I walked into the place alone. That doesn't scream, "Hey, I want to make some friends tonight!" Maybe I should've worn a hoodie and scowled more.
But after I told her the seat next to me was open and I -- dangit! -- looked at her and half-smiled, she started talking. What are you doing here leads to I'm a recovering Catholic to I so admire Asians to I'm sorry you're out of work. The way she not only spun her stool towards me but leaned into me ... she was talking so loudly into my ear she was touching me with her breath. It was a noisy bar, sure -- I didn't want her talking to me, so who cares?
But even in her drunken state she was being not hostile, so I had to be nice. She even gave me her number after she told me I should go back to the unemployment office and ask for education money, which was nice though I think it's futile. Best of all, I left after about half an hour, and she let me go without telling me to stay or asking me for my number. She didn't want to fuck me! I am relieved.
Oh. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Except that it wasn't. What? They advertised it. So I didn't know what to do. I actually had a couple moments where I thought about going to this nightclub instead of this stripclub, but after I saw the titty bar was closed and that the nightclub had a lot of people there -- and speculated that going into the place past midnight probably meant a $20 cover -- I decided against it.
But I didn't know where to go. I went from downtown to Nordeast to see if this other titty bar was open (it wasn't), back to downtown to reconsider going into this nightclub, then finally back to Nordeast. The first bar I saw for sure open was the one I decided to hit.
So I go in to this place, one I've heard about, and I sit and have a beer, with the intention of taking the bar in and people-watching. But soon after I find an open stool at the bar, this fat woman sits at the stool next to me. She said she was somewhere down the bar, but wanted to avoid this inebriated person from talking to her.
Turns out the inebriated person to avoid at this bar was her.
I don't know if I gave off the sense that I was open to talking to strangers tonight. I wasn't. This is Christmas Eve and I walked into the place alone. That doesn't scream, "Hey, I want to make some friends tonight!" Maybe I should've worn a hoodie and scowled more.
But after I told her the seat next to me was open and I -- dangit! -- looked at her and half-smiled, she started talking. What are you doing here leads to I'm a recovering Catholic to I so admire Asians to I'm sorry you're out of work. The way she not only spun her stool towards me but leaned into me ... she was talking so loudly into my ear she was touching me with her breath. It was a noisy bar, sure -- I didn't want her talking to me, so who cares?
But even in her drunken state she was being not hostile, so I had to be nice. She even gave me her number after she told me I should go back to the unemployment office and ask for education money, which was nice though I think it's futile. Best of all, I left after about half an hour, and she let me go without telling me to stay or asking me for my number. She didn't want to fuck me! I am relieved.
Oh. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Friday, December 24, 2010
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#0: Wild (Last Week: -6). A shocking development, one I don't think I can ever recall seeing: The Wild went 3-0 for the week. Such an accomplishment must be given its proper respect by lifting the team out of negative numbers for this WMNSS. Three things stand out: two of the games were on the road; none of the games were decided by one goal; and the two vanquished opponents (Calgary in a home-and-home and Colorado) were held to just one goal.
The Wild have won 5 of their last 7 games. That places them third in the Northwest Division, yet because it's so bad, it means they are third in the Western Conference. Fortunately this is hockey; they're only four points out of the eighth spot. Can they keep it going with games this week against Detroit, at Columbus, and home to San Jose?
#-1: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -5). One game, one win, over Northern Arizona, a school which has to be in Division I, yet sounds so small that I still think it's an NAIA school or something. The men's ballers also won their only game, but I'm giving the ladies the leg up because the win over the Lumberjacks gave Head Coach Pam Borton her 173rd win at the school, which makes her the all-time winningest women's basketball head coach at the U., surpassing a woman named Ellen Mosher-Hanson, who actually coached the Gophs from '77 to '87.
Still, I'm fairly disenchanted with Borton's stint as coach nowadays. The victory reflects that; they struggled to win by eight points over a team that should have been throttled. It seems that they're going to have to fight to win every game. Oh, well -- cupcake opponents are now over and done with. Big Ten play starts Thursday, when they visit Illinois.
#-2: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -2). Their sole win was over South Dakota St. last (Thursday) night. But it was much harder than it should have been; the Jackrabbits held the lead with about eight minutes to go before the Gophers doubled their score against them to close out the game. I thought their size would make games like this walkovers? The 16th-ranked team begin conference play on Tuesday at Wisconsin.
#-3: Vikings (Last Week: -8). I already covered their deflating loss to Chicago. But hey, at least it was outside? I think that a lot of fans at the game are OK with the result because of the novelty of being at the first outdoor Vikings game in 29 years (to the day, by the way). I kind of don't get it, but if reveling in throwing up snow when the Vikes scored those two touchdowns helps them cope, more power to them. If I knew it would only be 80% full, I would've braved the weather conditions and go. Hell, the team announced that all students on the University of Minnesota campus can walk up and attend the game for free. Remember, this is an officially-sanctioned NFL game. And they could've gotten in for free!
This team needs to be rebuilt in a major way. Who can stay? Peterson, Rice, Harvin, Kevin Williams, the linebackers, Longwell, and maybe Winfield. I won't be mad if they somehow dealt Allen, Shiancoe, McKinnie, Loadholt, or Kluwe (who may have tweeted his way off the team). Everybody else can go, as far as I'm concerned.
(Aside: Tarvaris Jackson is gone from the team next year. Yet, I still kind of feel sorry for him. He didn't really get a fair shake here. Yeah, he fucked up big time last week against the Giants. But even though he failed to make magic against a good team, there are extenuating circumstances that go back as far as his first season here. They played at Detroit last week in a hastily arranged game after the Dome's roof collapsed. He was the quarterback who was supposed to lead the team until Brad Childress got Brett Favre. And even before then he was never given the reins and allowed to either succeed or fail on his own. I think he's been reevaluated with the predisposition that he was not the guy. He may not be the guy; last week is pretty conclusive evidence. But I saw flashes of competence, and I wouldn't be completely shocked if he landed with another team as a backup, got thrusted into a position where he would be the QB for an extended period of time, and help game-manage a winning streak for his new club. And he'd laugh at the Vikings and all the Vikings fans who heckled him.)
Their next game at Philadelphia was flexed by NBC to Sunday night. Why in the hell did NBC want this game? Was it that much more meaningful a game than the one given to the network, Chargers-Bengals? That game also features a playoff contender against a team which has already been eliminated from playoff contention and quit. Maybe it's Michael Vick, who will throw for 300 and 3 TD's and run for 100 and 1 TD. The Iggles are going to beat the living shit out of the Vikes. I don't care if the line for this game is 35 1/2 -- take the Eagles. All the way.
#-4: Timberwolves (Last Week: -7). 0-4. Winless in their four games this screening week. My fucking God. They have now lost seven in a row.
I was at the last loss, to Utah Wednesday. I took my sister and brother-in-law because he wanted to see a sporting event. I couldn't promise him that, so I did the next best thing and bought us three tickets to a Timberwolves game (rimshot!). Wow, what an excruciating loss. I told my bro-in-law during the whole game that this team blows leads, but they somehow didn't. They got the lead early in the first and held on to it. The Bastard New Orleans Jazz made runs to get close, but somehow the Woofie Dogs managed to score consecutive baskets to breathe the lead wider.
And so it went, fending off the Jazz, until about three minutes left in the game. That's when everything fell apart with this damned team. They couldn't get into a play on the offensive end and settled for long jump shots early in the shot clock. And they couldn't fucking defend all game, but especially in crunch time, where I believe they committed stupid fouls after made buckets for back-to-back and-ones.
The death blow happened after the Wolves gave up the lead, then fell behind by a point. Coming out of a timeout, Martell Webster, who had been playing decently all game, jacked up a bad three very early in the show clock. Utah finally won a loose ball, and it was converted to a Gordon Heyward dunk (yes, the hero for Butler who almost sank a half-court buzzer-beater against Duke in last year's championship game dunked) with a Timberwolf idiotically fouling him well after everybody knew he was going to dunk it. Game over. There was a guy in the row behind us who was intensely into it. When Heyward slammed and got the and-one, I think he hit the chair, then said, "Fuck you!" and bolted out of his seat -- as did everybody else in Target Center. If I wasn't in present company, and if there weren't kids sitting in the row in front of me, I would've said the same thing just as loudly.
Oh, can you tell this team sucks?
This week, to end the year: at Cleveland, home to the Bastard Charlotte Hornets, home to Denver. They could stretch this losing streak to ten.
The Wild have won 5 of their last 7 games. That places them third in the Northwest Division, yet because it's so bad, it means they are third in the Western Conference. Fortunately this is hockey; they're only four points out of the eighth spot. Can they keep it going with games this week against Detroit, at Columbus, and home to San Jose?
#-1: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -5). One game, one win, over Northern Arizona, a school which has to be in Division I, yet sounds so small that I still think it's an NAIA school or something. The men's ballers also won their only game, but I'm giving the ladies the leg up because the win over the Lumberjacks gave Head Coach Pam Borton her 173rd win at the school, which makes her the all-time winningest women's basketball head coach at the U., surpassing a woman named Ellen Mosher-Hanson, who actually coached the Gophs from '77 to '87.
Still, I'm fairly disenchanted with Borton's stint as coach nowadays. The victory reflects that; they struggled to win by eight points over a team that should have been throttled. It seems that they're going to have to fight to win every game. Oh, well -- cupcake opponents are now over and done with. Big Ten play starts Thursday, when they visit Illinois.
#-2: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -2). Their sole win was over South Dakota St. last (Thursday) night. But it was much harder than it should have been; the Jackrabbits held the lead with about eight minutes to go before the Gophers doubled their score against them to close out the game. I thought their size would make games like this walkovers? The 16th-ranked team begin conference play on Tuesday at Wisconsin.
#-3: Vikings (Last Week: -8). I already covered their deflating loss to Chicago. But hey, at least it was outside? I think that a lot of fans at the game are OK with the result because of the novelty of being at the first outdoor Vikings game in 29 years (to the day, by the way). I kind of don't get it, but if reveling in throwing up snow when the Vikes scored those two touchdowns helps them cope, more power to them. If I knew it would only be 80% full, I would've braved the weather conditions and go. Hell, the team announced that all students on the University of Minnesota campus can walk up and attend the game for free. Remember, this is an officially-sanctioned NFL game. And they could've gotten in for free!
This team needs to be rebuilt in a major way. Who can stay? Peterson, Rice, Harvin, Kevin Williams, the linebackers, Longwell, and maybe Winfield. I won't be mad if they somehow dealt Allen, Shiancoe, McKinnie, Loadholt, or Kluwe (who may have tweeted his way off the team). Everybody else can go, as far as I'm concerned.
(Aside: Tarvaris Jackson is gone from the team next year. Yet, I still kind of feel sorry for him. He didn't really get a fair shake here. Yeah, he fucked up big time last week against the Giants. But even though he failed to make magic against a good team, there are extenuating circumstances that go back as far as his first season here. They played at Detroit last week in a hastily arranged game after the Dome's roof collapsed. He was the quarterback who was supposed to lead the team until Brad Childress got Brett Favre. And even before then he was never given the reins and allowed to either succeed or fail on his own. I think he's been reevaluated with the predisposition that he was not the guy. He may not be the guy; last week is pretty conclusive evidence. But I saw flashes of competence, and I wouldn't be completely shocked if he landed with another team as a backup, got thrusted into a position where he would be the QB for an extended period of time, and help game-manage a winning streak for his new club. And he'd laugh at the Vikings and all the Vikings fans who heckled him.)
Their next game at Philadelphia was flexed by NBC to Sunday night. Why in the hell did NBC want this game? Was it that much more meaningful a game than the one given to the network, Chargers-Bengals? That game also features a playoff contender against a team which has already been eliminated from playoff contention and quit. Maybe it's Michael Vick, who will throw for 300 and 3 TD's and run for 100 and 1 TD. The Iggles are going to beat the living shit out of the Vikes. I don't care if the line for this game is 35 1/2 -- take the Eagles. All the way.
#-4: Timberwolves (Last Week: -7). 0-4. Winless in their four games this screening week. My fucking God. They have now lost seven in a row.
I was at the last loss, to Utah Wednesday. I took my sister and brother-in-law because he wanted to see a sporting event. I couldn't promise him that, so I did the next best thing and bought us three tickets to a Timberwolves game (rimshot!). Wow, what an excruciating loss. I told my bro-in-law during the whole game that this team blows leads, but they somehow didn't. They got the lead early in the first and held on to it. The Bastard New Orleans Jazz made runs to get close, but somehow the Woofie Dogs managed to score consecutive baskets to breathe the lead wider.
And so it went, fending off the Jazz, until about three minutes left in the game. That's when everything fell apart with this damned team. They couldn't get into a play on the offensive end and settled for long jump shots early in the shot clock. And they couldn't fucking defend all game, but especially in crunch time, where I believe they committed stupid fouls after made buckets for back-to-back and-ones.
The death blow happened after the Wolves gave up the lead, then fell behind by a point. Coming out of a timeout, Martell Webster, who had been playing decently all game, jacked up a bad three very early in the show clock. Utah finally won a loose ball, and it was converted to a Gordon Heyward dunk (yes, the hero for Butler who almost sank a half-court buzzer-beater against Duke in last year's championship game dunked) with a Timberwolf idiotically fouling him well after everybody knew he was going to dunk it. Game over. There was a guy in the row behind us who was intensely into it. When Heyward slammed and got the and-one, I think he hit the chair, then said, "Fuck you!" and bolted out of his seat -- as did everybody else in Target Center. If I wasn't in present company, and if there weren't kids sitting in the row in front of me, I would've said the same thing just as loudly.
Oh, can you tell this team sucks?
This week, to end the year: at Cleveland, home to the Bastard Charlotte Hornets, home to Denver. They could stretch this losing streak to ten.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Grandmother And Her Insulin Fuck Up My Plans
Like I said earlier this morning ... I knew this was going to happen. After her friend "instructed" her on how to inject herself with the insulin -- she actually was fazed that the pen injector was different from hers, so I just took out the manual and followed those instructions -- Grandmother asked me ... no, actually she kind of told me ... to do this again for her dinner tonight.
Goddamn, my plans!!! You're fucking up my plans!!! I need to take my parents, sister and brother-in-law to the airport. From there, I thought I'd stay at the mall a little bit to shop and make sure there isn't a flight delay that would force me to go back to the airport and pick them up. From there, I'd go to the Walker and meet up with my friend for dinner and to the British TV Advertising Awards.
But now, I have to use waste my time and spend considerable gas (it's $3.06 right now! The price is going up like gold!!) to go all the way from the airport, which is in the southern suburbs, up to our house in the northern suburbs, just to administer to and try to teach Grandmother her insulin shot. And I have to do all of this while fighting afternoon rush traffic.
This is so extraneous -- an extra 40 miles and 30 minutes just for a goddamn shot?! I mean, can't Grandmother go without one for just this day?? Hearing her say that she wants me to come home for this riled up the usual feelings of anger and helplessness and loss of time that has always pissed me off. And I wanted to yell and scream and throw things, like the remote control I threw last night after I saw the instructions for the insulin injection.
But ... I knew where this was going to lead. I knew that this was a pain in the ass that I would forget the next day. And, of course, I have to think about the health of my Grandmother. I needed some space away from her, and I needed to stop hearing her talk in Chinese and broken English about things I couldn't understand, so I went into my room to clear my head and then think.
But I knew all along what I had to do: After dropping off the family, I have to go home to give her the shot. Simple as that. Grandmother did offer to do this at 2, just before we left, but she had her first shot at 8:30, and it's not smart to do that. I mean, 2-ish is not dinner. So I'm coming home. I will get angry that while in traffic, I will waste a good quarter of my tank of gas, and it might take me an hour. But if this is what I need to do in order to keep my Grandmother healthy, I will do it.
And I will forget all of this by the weekend. Hopefully.
Goddamn, my plans!!! You're fucking up my plans!!! I need to take my parents, sister and brother-in-law to the airport. From there, I thought I'd stay at the mall a little bit to shop and make sure there isn't a flight delay that would force me to go back to the airport and pick them up. From there, I'd go to the Walker and meet up with my friend for dinner and to the British TV Advertising Awards.
But now, I have to use waste my time and spend considerable gas (it's $3.06 right now! The price is going up like gold!!) to go all the way from the airport, which is in the southern suburbs, up to our house in the northern suburbs, just to administer to and try to teach Grandmother her insulin shot. And I have to do all of this while fighting afternoon rush traffic.
This is so extraneous -- an extra 40 miles and 30 minutes just for a goddamn shot?! I mean, can't Grandmother go without one for just this day?? Hearing her say that she wants me to come home for this riled up the usual feelings of anger and helplessness and loss of time that has always pissed me off. And I wanted to yell and scream and throw things, like the remote control I threw last night after I saw the instructions for the insulin injection.
But ... I knew where this was going to lead. I knew that this was a pain in the ass that I would forget the next day. And, of course, I have to think about the health of my Grandmother. I needed some space away from her, and I needed to stop hearing her talk in Chinese and broken English about things I couldn't understand, so I went into my room to clear my head and then think.
But I knew all along what I had to do: After dropping off the family, I have to go home to give her the shot. Simple as that. Grandmother did offer to do this at 2, just before we left, but she had her first shot at 8:30, and it's not smart to do that. I mean, 2-ish is not dinner. So I'm coming home. I will get angry that while in traffic, I will waste a good quarter of my tank of gas, and it might take me an hour. But if this is what I need to do in order to keep my Grandmother healthy, I will do it.
And I will forget all of this by the weekend. Hopefully.
A Sad Ending And A Sad Beginning Signaling An Ending
It was my last day of "work" at the U. hearing lab. I've known for a while. In fact, I thought it would end a few weeks ago, but they continued to "find holes" in my data, so they kept me coming in.
For my last day, I wanted to treat it extra special, so I made it a point -- a real point, taken seriously -- to come in as early as possible, not ten or even 30 minutes like recent sessions before. My sister and brother-in-law didn't take the car in the morning like I thought, so I could leave any time -- no excuse, not this time now that this may be the last time I "work" this experiment.
I was able to find parking even with the special restrictions made by the city due to the abnormally snowy winter we've had so far. And then I went to McDonald's with enough time that I wasn't totally panicking about how I had to chow my food down, even though I could've used a little more. I was five minutes late for "work" -- compared to how tardy I was to my days last week, I should be rewarded.
Anyway, I wanted to make sure that if this was my last day, I would complete all my runs. I had some PCA timesheets I needed to fill out and put in an envelope, but I thought I would have enough time to do that. Except that I didn't; just before I planned on taking my break and going to the bathroom for my regular 15-20-minute shit, I was done. With everything.
So as I got my things together, my supervisor, the one I've known all these years and administrated all my experiments before getting somebody else to do it in order to free up her workload, she, without me saying hi or anything, said she'll get back to me as soon as she knows which direction to take her work with me.
And it is at that point where I thought that there is no chance I will ever do hearing experiments at the U. lab again. No chance that I will ever see her again. That I will ever make money for this study ever again. And now with no $60 in petty cash to make every week, I am now very, very underemployed.
---
Once again I failed to get home in time to see the beginning of the national nightly news, damn!! And I parked right outside the coffeeshop too -- I was willing to put my car in reverse just so I could get home faster!!!
Just as I turned on the TV and saw the anchors already going through their rundowns, Grandmother came out of her bedroom. She's always done that, coming out when she hears commotion in the common area of our house, like a moth attracted to a flame. But she had something sadly special for me tonight.
She went to the doctor's today. Didn't tell me till before I was about to leave; she wanted me to take her blood sugar level, and then she told me she wanted her blood pressure, then she was bringing to the doctor two bottles of the same pill -- has she been taking pills from both bottles?
She was saying that at the doctor's they shot her with a needle into her stomach. But then she showed me the papers. What she was describing wasn't an operation or a test done on her, like I thought; it was a prescription. One of these papers was a series of illustrations to show symptopms of hypoglycemia. Another one had instructions on how to use an insulin injector.
My Grandmother now needs to use insulin.
That realization became real to me when the nurse from Grandmother's clinic rang the doorbell. She actually was there to return the diabetes testing kit Grandmother left at the clinic. In retrospect I was lucky that she dropped by; I had questions I needed to ask her. Grandmother is diabetic; the insulin injection and warnings about hypoglycemia are there to appropriately administer the insulin and make sure the blood sugar that is normally too high in her doesn't get too low.
As for why this is all necessary, she put it succinctly: There comes a point where the body doesn't produce insulin anymore, and the pills Grandmother was taking is no longer useful.
She's dying. Grandmother is dying. The secret fear I have had all my life, that the people I know and (sometimes) love will leave me is coming true. I can't stand facing this fact.
But you know what? I have to admit something bad, and cruel, and selfish. When I finally put two and two together, all I could think of was how much more shit was piling up for me. This increased step in medication was something I know I will have to do, and this is so drastic that it will affect my life. For example, I saw the prescription. An insulin shot has to be taken before breakfast and dinner. Grandmother's 84, doesn't understand a fuckin' word of English and forgets easily -- no goddamn way can she do this for herself, so I will have to do it for her. From now till ... forever.
So now I see my Grandmother's mortality staring me right in the fact, but in the meantime I have to wake up at 8:30 the morning to stave off that fate. Her friend is coming over at that ungodly hour to teach both of us how to use and inject that thing. I can't help but think, I didn't sign up for this shit. That's why I'm blogging past 4:30 in the morning.
But I have no choice, do I? Leave Grandmother to her own devices and she will die.
So many changes ... too many changes. ...
For my last day, I wanted to treat it extra special, so I made it a point -- a real point, taken seriously -- to come in as early as possible, not ten or even 30 minutes like recent sessions before. My sister and brother-in-law didn't take the car in the morning like I thought, so I could leave any time -- no excuse, not this time now that this may be the last time I "work" this experiment.
I was able to find parking even with the special restrictions made by the city due to the abnormally snowy winter we've had so far. And then I went to McDonald's with enough time that I wasn't totally panicking about how I had to chow my food down, even though I could've used a little more. I was five minutes late for "work" -- compared to how tardy I was to my days last week, I should be rewarded.
Anyway, I wanted to make sure that if this was my last day, I would complete all my runs. I had some PCA timesheets I needed to fill out and put in an envelope, but I thought I would have enough time to do that. Except that I didn't; just before I planned on taking my break and going to the bathroom for my regular 15-20-minute shit, I was done. With everything.
So as I got my things together, my supervisor, the one I've known all these years and administrated all my experiments before getting somebody else to do it in order to free up her workload, she, without me saying hi or anything, said she'll get back to me as soon as she knows which direction to take her work with me.
And it is at that point where I thought that there is no chance I will ever do hearing experiments at the U. lab again. No chance that I will ever see her again. That I will ever make money for this study ever again. And now with no $60 in petty cash to make every week, I am now very, very underemployed.
---
Once again I failed to get home in time to see the beginning of the national nightly news, damn!! And I parked right outside the coffeeshop too -- I was willing to put my car in reverse just so I could get home faster!!!
Just as I turned on the TV and saw the anchors already going through their rundowns, Grandmother came out of her bedroom. She's always done that, coming out when she hears commotion in the common area of our house, like a moth attracted to a flame. But she had something sadly special for me tonight.
She went to the doctor's today. Didn't tell me till before I was about to leave; she wanted me to take her blood sugar level, and then she told me she wanted her blood pressure, then she was bringing to the doctor two bottles of the same pill -- has she been taking pills from both bottles?
She was saying that at the doctor's they shot her with a needle into her stomach. But then she showed me the papers. What she was describing wasn't an operation or a test done on her, like I thought; it was a prescription. One of these papers was a series of illustrations to show symptopms of hypoglycemia. Another one had instructions on how to use an insulin injector.
My Grandmother now needs to use insulin.
That realization became real to me when the nurse from Grandmother's clinic rang the doorbell. She actually was there to return the diabetes testing kit Grandmother left at the clinic. In retrospect I was lucky that she dropped by; I had questions I needed to ask her. Grandmother is diabetic; the insulin injection and warnings about hypoglycemia are there to appropriately administer the insulin and make sure the blood sugar that is normally too high in her doesn't get too low.
As for why this is all necessary, she put it succinctly: There comes a point where the body doesn't produce insulin anymore, and the pills Grandmother was taking is no longer useful.
She's dying. Grandmother is dying. The secret fear I have had all my life, that the people I know and (sometimes) love will leave me is coming true. I can't stand facing this fact.
But you know what? I have to admit something bad, and cruel, and selfish. When I finally put two and two together, all I could think of was how much more shit was piling up for me. This increased step in medication was something I know I will have to do, and this is so drastic that it will affect my life. For example, I saw the prescription. An insulin shot has to be taken before breakfast and dinner. Grandmother's 84, doesn't understand a fuckin' word of English and forgets easily -- no goddamn way can she do this for herself, so I will have to do it for her. From now till ... forever.
So now I see my Grandmother's mortality staring me right in the fact, but in the meantime I have to wake up at 8:30 the morning to stave off that fate. Her friend is coming over at that ungodly hour to teach both of us how to use and inject that thing. I can't help but think, I didn't sign up for this shit. That's why I'm blogging past 4:30 in the morning.
But I have no choice, do I? Leave Grandmother to her own devices and she will die.
So many changes ... too many changes. ...
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
A Penny Picked Up Off The Floor After Someone Dropped It, Looked At It, And Decided To Leave It Is A Penny Earned
So I was shopping at the Megamall with my sister and brother-in-law. We separated. I was at this sports-clothing store.
I walk in just as I see this woman fiddle with her purse and drop a penny on the floor. Without spending too many seconds, she looks at it ... and then leaves.
Now, I understand that it's just a penny; having one won't pay for anything or make me a rich man. I also know that there's been a lot of talk about abolishing the penny because it costs more to make than its given value. But ... it's a penny! It's legal American currency!! Also, I'm just floored that she just gave it a glance before leaving it behind like it had absolutely no worth whatsoever. She acted like it was a used-up piece of tissue she's leaving on the floor. It's not!!!
So I broke my policy of never picking up a penny tails' side-up because it's bad luck and, about ten seconds after she left the store, picked it up. No other customer in the store blinked an eye. And I haven't had any bad luck yet. Score one for me, I guess.
I walk in just as I see this woman fiddle with her purse and drop a penny on the floor. Without spending too many seconds, she looks at it ... and then leaves.
Now, I understand that it's just a penny; having one won't pay for anything or make me a rich man. I also know that there's been a lot of talk about abolishing the penny because it costs more to make than its given value. But ... it's a penny! It's legal American currency!! Also, I'm just floored that she just gave it a glance before leaving it behind like it had absolutely no worth whatsoever. She acted like it was a used-up piece of tissue she's leaving on the floor. It's not!!!
So I broke my policy of never picking up a penny tails' side-up because it's bad luck and, about ten seconds after she left the store, picked it up. No other customer in the store blinked an eye. And I haven't had any bad luck yet. Score one for me, I guess.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
The Vikings Make Me Depressed Again
Last week they pissed me off. They did it again tonight.
Tonight, 29 years to the day of their last outdoor game, they have to play outdoors again because of the Dome. And even though ESPN hyped the shit out of this game, and even with the added intrigue of Brett Favre coming back from his sprained whatever to start, and even with that scintillating first drive, where Favre marched the team down the field for their first score, the Vikes fold like a metal chair after Favre leaves the game.
They quit. This team fucking quit. Anybody who doesn't believe that is a fucking idiot. As I've said before, there is nothing worse in sports than a veteran team that gets old fast. That's what happened here. The defense couldn't stop the run ... or the pass (seriously, a touchdown on 1st & 30???), and even with that Favre pick, which wasn't his fault, they were still in it. But after #4 went out with that injury (in which he lay motionless on the floor just long enough for everybody in the Bank to feel sorry for him), everybody else on the team was like, "Well, that was fun while it lasted." And then they mailed it in.
I wasn't as depressed as I was last week -- not because I learned from last week, but because I was preoccupied with the goddamn snowstorm we were having today and my sister and brother-in-law vacationing here. But I'm still pretty pissed and depressed. This will color my whole week. And then they'll face Philadelphia and get the shit kicked out of them like a losing fighting dog ... and then they'll completely mail it in and lose at Detroit. Well, at least they'll get a good draft pick. Christ. ...
Tonight, 29 years to the day of their last outdoor game, they have to play outdoors again because of the Dome. And even though ESPN hyped the shit out of this game, and even with the added intrigue of Brett Favre coming back from his sprained whatever to start, and even with that scintillating first drive, where Favre marched the team down the field for their first score, the Vikes fold like a metal chair after Favre leaves the game.
They quit. This team fucking quit. Anybody who doesn't believe that is a fucking idiot. As I've said before, there is nothing worse in sports than a veteran team that gets old fast. That's what happened here. The defense couldn't stop the run ... or the pass (seriously, a touchdown on 1st & 30???), and even with that Favre pick, which wasn't his fault, they were still in it. But after #4 went out with that injury (in which he lay motionless on the floor just long enough for everybody in the Bank to feel sorry for him), everybody else on the team was like, "Well, that was fun while it lasted." And then they mailed it in.
I wasn't as depressed as I was last week -- not because I learned from last week, but because I was preoccupied with the goddamn snowstorm we were having today and my sister and brother-in-law vacationing here. But I'm still pretty pissed and depressed. This will color my whole week. And then they'll face Philadelphia and get the shit kicked out of them like a losing fighting dog ... and then they'll completely mail it in and lose at Detroit. Well, at least they'll get a good draft pick. Christ. ...
Monday, December 20, 2010
Snapshots From A Holiday Visit From My Sister And Brother-In-Law (III)
They spent a hellish day getting across the pond here. Their flight from Zurich to Brussels was cancelled; too bad they cancelled it after they were on the plane for three hours.
After they were sent to and fro in the airport, mostly on bad information, they managed to get on a plane that would send them to the States. Not to New York, as originally scheduled, but to Chicago. They departed ten hours after they should have, and the flight took ten hours, so they got to O'Hare at 12:30 in the morning, way too late to get here before the new day. Scrambling to get help from a travel agency or getting online, my sis called me at 2:30 to tell me they were coming in at 8.
Surprised that even though they were leaving Chicago, their flight from there to here went off as scheduled.
---
Having those two here is changing my behavior in ways I don't like. I'm needing to "act better" while around them, especially my brother-in-law. It's sad -- I should just be me, and besides, like I told Mother when she made me use a plate to present leftover turkey instead of the metal we always use, he already married into the family, so there's no need to try to impress him.
But I've taken down the body towel that I use to dry myself off after taking a shower from the shower rod. I always hang it there because it's convenient after I dry my hands. But it's gross, and we don't want "outsiders" seeing it, let alone using it. So I have it in my room right now.
I also, um, haven't been able to take a shit since they arrived. Nothing comes out, nothing. I don't even feel constipated; I just don't shit and go about my day without defecating. I just don't want him to hear my bowel movement. Sad but true.
In exchange, I have a secret fear that while they're here they'll f ... no, I can't say that ... I'll say ... have sexual relations. They're married, so I don't want to deny them, particularly my sister, their sexuality. But they're crashing in her old room, which is right next to mine. It's funny enough to think of my kid sister as a married woman, but to think they'd, gulp, do it while they're here. Squicks me the fuck out.
Remember that I saw them get married in Switzerland last year. I was so fortunate that after I smoked a cigar, I passed out for 90 minutes right around the time I estimated they, um, consummated their wedding. And I feel so fortunate that I can dupe myself into thinking that I'm right without too much second-guessing.
---
They're taking the car tomorrow. Sister says she last drove two months ago. But in the cold and snow? As I told her, I need my car, because to me it represents my freedom, and if she totals my car, she totals my freedom. And, I need it to go to "work" in the afternoon.
After they were sent to and fro in the airport, mostly on bad information, they managed to get on a plane that would send them to the States. Not to New York, as originally scheduled, but to Chicago. They departed ten hours after they should have, and the flight took ten hours, so they got to O'Hare at 12:30 in the morning, way too late to get here before the new day. Scrambling to get help from a travel agency or getting online, my sis called me at 2:30 to tell me they were coming in at 8.
Surprised that even though they were leaving Chicago, their flight from there to here went off as scheduled.
---
Having those two here is changing my behavior in ways I don't like. I'm needing to "act better" while around them, especially my brother-in-law. It's sad -- I should just be me, and besides, like I told Mother when she made me use a plate to present leftover turkey instead of the metal we always use, he already married into the family, so there's no need to try to impress him.
But I've taken down the body towel that I use to dry myself off after taking a shower from the shower rod. I always hang it there because it's convenient after I dry my hands. But it's gross, and we don't want "outsiders" seeing it, let alone using it. So I have it in my room right now.
I also, um, haven't been able to take a shit since they arrived. Nothing comes out, nothing. I don't even feel constipated; I just don't shit and go about my day without defecating. I just don't want him to hear my bowel movement. Sad but true.
In exchange, I have a secret fear that while they're here they'll f ... no, I can't say that ... I'll say ... have sexual relations. They're married, so I don't want to deny them, particularly my sister, their sexuality. But they're crashing in her old room, which is right next to mine. It's funny enough to think of my kid sister as a married woman, but to think they'd, gulp, do it while they're here. Squicks me the fuck out.
Remember that I saw them get married in Switzerland last year. I was so fortunate that after I smoked a cigar, I passed out for 90 minutes right around the time I estimated they, um, consummated their wedding. And I feel so fortunate that I can dupe myself into thinking that I'm right without too much second-guessing.
---
They're taking the car tomorrow. Sister says she last drove two months ago. But in the cold and snow? As I told her, I need my car, because to me it represents my freedom, and if she totals my car, she totals my freedom. And, I need it to go to "work" in the afternoon.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Snapshots From A Holiday Visit From My Sister And Brother-In-Law (II)
That look in his eyes, that combination of woundedness and bitterness ... that encapsulates My Fucking Father. And I know I have inherited and/or learned this from him, because I have done this to others, and I have it inside me. But yet, that face. ...
It was Thursday, a day before my sister and brother-in-law were supposed to come. This was the same day I forgot to make the deposit for Mother. I also forgot that Father wanted me to clean the chairs. Who cleans chairs? Anyway, at that instant he told me, I thought to myself that I could do it Friday afternoon, before they came over.
I still was feeling shitty over forgetting the deposit, but we got done with dinner early enough that I thought I would just work out my stress by working out. So I put on my coat (didn't put on my pajamas yet) and brought my gloves and hat with the intention of leaving.
But ... there's this tablecloth Father wanted me to buy. It was for the table that we were going to extend to accomodate my sister and brother-in-law. The tablecloth we have isn't long enough for the longer table, so I went to Target Thursday to get it. I thought we could put it on Friday afternoon, while I wash the chairs, but ... something told me I should just get it now, before I leave, just in case Father wanted to put in on now.
I go into the kitchen. Like he had eyes on the back of his head, he turns right as I enter. I actually wanted to say to him, "I'm going to work out." But Father may have been angry. And ... he gave me that look. That fucking look.
So I said, "I'm going outside to get the tablecloth."
That look stayed with me as I went outside. And I just got madder and madder at myself. I need to martyr myself to keep the peace again. Couldn't work out my stress by working out. So when I come back inside with the tablecloth, I slammed down my coat. I know what I fuckin' have to do.
I go downstairs to get a rag and pail and fill the pail up with water. I go to the bathroom to grab some cleaner and pour the bleach into the pail. And I fucking start cleaning the chairs no one will notice are dirty.
It took me an hour to do all that shit. And I was right about My Fucking Father secretly wanting me to do what he fucking wanted tonight (he probably wanted me to do that afternoon, even though I was "working") because after he was done washing the dishes he was enthusiastically helping out with cleaning the rest of the dining room. Held my temper through all of it, but I couldn't wait to get to the gym.
I haven't been able to work out as much these past few weeks. Dinner running late, stupid chores, helping out my parents on the Internet, waiting for my bowel movement ... I'm now coming in and starting around 8:30, a half-hour later than I usually want to begin. It's not worth it if I'm starting that late.
Besides, that night everybody was working out at the gym. People are getting a head start on exercising as a New Year's Resolution.
To make up for that hour I spent doing chores, I went to my late-night hangout and ate some more.
And besides, my sister and brother-in-law's flight in Europe was cancelled; she texted me late night Thursday night. More on this later. I had Friday afternoon to do it, and I had Friday evening to do it, too.
It was Thursday, a day before my sister and brother-in-law were supposed to come. This was the same day I forgot to make the deposit for Mother. I also forgot that Father wanted me to clean the chairs. Who cleans chairs? Anyway, at that instant he told me, I thought to myself that I could do it Friday afternoon, before they came over.
I still was feeling shitty over forgetting the deposit, but we got done with dinner early enough that I thought I would just work out my stress by working out. So I put on my coat (didn't put on my pajamas yet) and brought my gloves and hat with the intention of leaving.
But ... there's this tablecloth Father wanted me to buy. It was for the table that we were going to extend to accomodate my sister and brother-in-law. The tablecloth we have isn't long enough for the longer table, so I went to Target Thursday to get it. I thought we could put it on Friday afternoon, while I wash the chairs, but ... something told me I should just get it now, before I leave, just in case Father wanted to put in on now.
I go into the kitchen. Like he had eyes on the back of his head, he turns right as I enter. I actually wanted to say to him, "I'm going to work out." But Father may have been angry. And ... he gave me that look. That fucking look.
So I said, "I'm going outside to get the tablecloth."
That look stayed with me as I went outside. And I just got madder and madder at myself. I need to martyr myself to keep the peace again. Couldn't work out my stress by working out. So when I come back inside with the tablecloth, I slammed down my coat. I know what I fuckin' have to do.
I go downstairs to get a rag and pail and fill the pail up with water. I go to the bathroom to grab some cleaner and pour the bleach into the pail. And I fucking start cleaning the chairs no one will notice are dirty.
It took me an hour to do all that shit. And I was right about My Fucking Father secretly wanting me to do what he fucking wanted tonight (he probably wanted me to do that afternoon, even though I was "working") because after he was done washing the dishes he was enthusiastically helping out with cleaning the rest of the dining room. Held my temper through all of it, but I couldn't wait to get to the gym.
I haven't been able to work out as much these past few weeks. Dinner running late, stupid chores, helping out my parents on the Internet, waiting for my bowel movement ... I'm now coming in and starting around 8:30, a half-hour later than I usually want to begin. It's not worth it if I'm starting that late.
Besides, that night everybody was working out at the gym. People are getting a head start on exercising as a New Year's Resolution.
To make up for that hour I spent doing chores, I went to my late-night hangout and ate some more.
And besides, my sister and brother-in-law's flight in Europe was cancelled; she texted me late night Thursday night. More on this later. I had Friday afternoon to do it, and I had Friday evening to do it, too.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Snapshots From A Holiday Visit From My Sister And Brother-In-Law (I)
I hate that the family dynamic changes when faced with an outside influence. I kind of forget that whenever something like that occurs because it doesn't happen often. But it changes my parents' behavior and my Grandmother's behavior, and thus their behavior towards me. Usually I don't like it. Maybe, just maybe it's not them, but what I perceive is their change in attitude towards me. I still don't like it.
Picked them up from the airport this morning; they were supposed to be here yesterday afternoon. To celebrate, my parents made this gruel that my sister loves to eat and I'm not so hot on. That didn't stop my brother-in-law from wanting coffee, so I did the same.
Turns out they celebrated not just with gruel but with Chinese hot buns. And when I came in, My Father was there, greeting me alongside Mother. That meant he was there when my brother-in-law came in. Did they say hi? Did My Father ... was he actually, gulp, nice to him?
Don't get me wrong, that's great. But the Father I know is an asshole, and treated my brother-in-law mercilessly and coldly the last time he was here. I don't understand the sudden change in temperament. The only theory I can think of is that My Father -- and really Mother too -- is more accepting of my brother-in-law because they are now officially married. Maybe he wasn't so keen on him because at the time they were not a "permanent" couple. Makes some sense in that regard, but he was still an asshole. Oh, you should've seen him -- that was another time when I wished I had enough guts to punch him in the mouth.
Anyway ... so I'm at the dinner table, newly elongated for their stay here. They, Mother and I are eating. Even though I have a mocha, I'm a sucker of eating, so I have a bun and a cup of gruel (which was salty and tasty, by the way -- shit, am I starting to like this gruel too?). Mother's talking up a storm, mostly with my sisster about cooking. She lights up like a Christmas tree with her and that topic. This transformation, unlike Father's, is fun to see.
Mother says my sister should start a business. Wanting to join in the bonhomie of the breakfast, I say, "I hear it's easy to start a business in Zurich."
Which leads to an avalanche of maternal, castrating bullshit I did not forsee and could not stop; how stupid of me. Either trying to make fun at my expense or contributing to the what she thinks is the fun of the moment, she goes: "Why don't you start a business over there? You can learn the language real quick. Stay with them, learn the language and start your business. You've been in Minnesota for years now. Move on."
No. Just ... no. Don't start with me. There were two fucking ulterior motives behind this screed of hers. First, that speech touched on one of my darkest fears: Leaving the house. I'm not proud of living with my parents, but I like it here anyways. And I'll admit it's because of two things: My Grandmother, whom I want to be around if she needs anything or if an accident happens, and the fact that I don't have to pay for most things while living here. If I got out into the Real World, I'll have to worry about rent, utilities, food, gas, insurance ... and that means finding a job I hate. How in the fuck can I do that in this unfair economy? And yet here's my mom, trying to push me out of the nest with that suggestion. Maybe she has more faith in my abilities than I do. But damn, I'm 34 years old. If I haven't left the house by now, don't you think I'm kind of (hope use of this word doesn't haunt me) retarded in some way?
And the other subtext behind this is something my sister told me: A long time ago (well, several years ago, when my sister was still living in the States) my sister and Mother made a pact: If my sister could convince me to teach English in Japan, Mother would give her money. After this little rant she gave me this morning over breakfast, and after I was so stunned by her aggression I was muted like a little bitch and could only wave my hands at her like I was trying to say, "I'm done with this conversation" (I'm tired and do not have the ability to speak words right now), she looked at my sister like, "I tried to help you," and smiled.
And now I feel bad. I'm staying because I'd be homesick, and I'm scared for Grandmother. I know I'll have everything I wanted furnished for me. But you say Minnesota's boring like it's a bad thing. Even though I'm afraid of its rightward drift politically, I think this is a beautiful, awesome, progressive, smart and sexy town. Plus, I like to stay because everything I love is here -- seasons, network news, stripclubs, late-night joints. Why would I leave all of that? Just because? Change is good? Bullshit.
Worst of all, she emasculated me in front of my sister and brother-in-law. It hasn't happened in front of my sister in years, but this is the first time she showed me up in front of my brother-in-law. It's the outside influence represented by them that turns her from this meek mouse who once got beat up by My Fucking Father to a social butterfly who likes to make fun of her slow-developing middle child. I hate that. I fucking hate-hate-hate-hate that!!!
---
By the way, I was writing this while my sister and brother-in-law were moving their stuff into her old bedroom. I made a point of switching to another window when they passed by; I don't want them to see that I have a blog, or that I'm writing about them.
But I got sloppy. I left my door open, and my sister stopped for a quick chat. And I turned to face her, totally forgetting that I was looking at this and forgot to switch to another window.
I panicked after she left. I went over to the spot where she was to see if she could see what I was typing. The type was small. But the title of the blog was huge. And I am very near-sighted. And she may or may have been wearing glasses.
Fuck my life.
Picked them up from the airport this morning; they were supposed to be here yesterday afternoon. To celebrate, my parents made this gruel that my sister loves to eat and I'm not so hot on. That didn't stop my brother-in-law from wanting coffee, so I did the same.
Turns out they celebrated not just with gruel but with Chinese hot buns. And when I came in, My Father was there, greeting me alongside Mother. That meant he was there when my brother-in-law came in. Did they say hi? Did My Father ... was he actually, gulp, nice to him?
Don't get me wrong, that's great. But the Father I know is an asshole, and treated my brother-in-law mercilessly and coldly the last time he was here. I don't understand the sudden change in temperament. The only theory I can think of is that My Father -- and really Mother too -- is more accepting of my brother-in-law because they are now officially married. Maybe he wasn't so keen on him because at the time they were not a "permanent" couple. Makes some sense in that regard, but he was still an asshole. Oh, you should've seen him -- that was another time when I wished I had enough guts to punch him in the mouth.
Anyway ... so I'm at the dinner table, newly elongated for their stay here. They, Mother and I are eating. Even though I have a mocha, I'm a sucker of eating, so I have a bun and a cup of gruel (which was salty and tasty, by the way -- shit, am I starting to like this gruel too?). Mother's talking up a storm, mostly with my sisster about cooking. She lights up like a Christmas tree with her and that topic. This transformation, unlike Father's, is fun to see.
Mother says my sister should start a business. Wanting to join in the bonhomie of the breakfast, I say, "I hear it's easy to start a business in Zurich."
Which leads to an avalanche of maternal, castrating bullshit I did not forsee and could not stop; how stupid of me. Either trying to make fun at my expense or contributing to the what she thinks is the fun of the moment, she goes: "Why don't you start a business over there? You can learn the language real quick. Stay with them, learn the language and start your business. You've been in Minnesota for years now. Move on."
No. Just ... no. Don't start with me. There were two fucking ulterior motives behind this screed of hers. First, that speech touched on one of my darkest fears: Leaving the house. I'm not proud of living with my parents, but I like it here anyways. And I'll admit it's because of two things: My Grandmother, whom I want to be around if she needs anything or if an accident happens, and the fact that I don't have to pay for most things while living here. If I got out into the Real World, I'll have to worry about rent, utilities, food, gas, insurance ... and that means finding a job I hate. How in the fuck can I do that in this unfair economy? And yet here's my mom, trying to push me out of the nest with that suggestion. Maybe she has more faith in my abilities than I do. But damn, I'm 34 years old. If I haven't left the house by now, don't you think I'm kind of (hope use of this word doesn't haunt me) retarded in some way?
And the other subtext behind this is something my sister told me: A long time ago (well, several years ago, when my sister was still living in the States) my sister and Mother made a pact: If my sister could convince me to teach English in Japan, Mother would give her money. After this little rant she gave me this morning over breakfast, and after I was so stunned by her aggression I was muted like a little bitch and could only wave my hands at her like I was trying to say, "I'm done with this conversation" (I'm tired and do not have the ability to speak words right now), she looked at my sister like, "I tried to help you," and smiled.
And now I feel bad. I'm staying because I'd be homesick, and I'm scared for Grandmother. I know I'll have everything I wanted furnished for me. But you say Minnesota's boring like it's a bad thing. Even though I'm afraid of its rightward drift politically, I think this is a beautiful, awesome, progressive, smart and sexy town. Plus, I like to stay because everything I love is here -- seasons, network news, stripclubs, late-night joints. Why would I leave all of that? Just because? Change is good? Bullshit.
Worst of all, she emasculated me in front of my sister and brother-in-law. It hasn't happened in front of my sister in years, but this is the first time she showed me up in front of my brother-in-law. It's the outside influence represented by them that turns her from this meek mouse who once got beat up by My Fucking Father to a social butterfly who likes to make fun of her slow-developing middle child. I hate that. I fucking hate-hate-hate-hate that!!!
---
By the way, I was writing this while my sister and brother-in-law were moving their stuff into her old bedroom. I made a point of switching to another window when they passed by; I don't want them to see that I have a blog, or that I'm writing about them.
But I got sloppy. I left my door open, and my sister stopped for a quick chat. And I turned to face her, totally forgetting that I was looking at this and forgot to switch to another window.
I panicked after she left. I went over to the spot where she was to see if she could see what I was typing. The type was small. But the title of the blog was huge. And I am very near-sighted. And she may or may have been wearing glasses.
Fuck my life.
Friday, December 17, 2010
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Wrestling (Last Week: -4). You can't sweat the grapplers for being a perfect 2-0 for the week. You have to be impressed that they blew out both opponents by a combined score of 65-6. It's remarkable that they blanked Cal State-Fullerton, 39-0. But the most incredible part of it to me is that they beat both teams on the same fucking day. The Fullerton win was the nightcap, y'all.
Well, maybe I shouldn't be so blown away. I don't know wrestling that well, so maybe the Gophers or any other elite program plays like a barnstorming Negro League team all the time. And it's not as if they're playing the Soviet Olympic team here. So let's just honor Freshman 184-pounder Kevin Steinhaus for being named Big Ten Wrestler Of The Week. He's climbing in his class poll after scoring major decisions in both meets.
They're resting (and therefore are off the WMNSS) till around New Year's -- thank God, I can't keep writing this long for any longer -- where they rassle in the Southern Scuffle in Greensboro, N.C. I don't know how to quantify tournaments, so I might keep them off the survey after they come back from finals.
#-2: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -1). The 20th-ranked team skated this week, picking up easy wins in guarantee/"bodybag" games in The Barn against Eastern Kentucky and Akron. This is the time of the year where Tubby Smith isn't trying to burnish the team's RPI but the number of wins they have. Well, it beats losing. They finish their three-game homestand with a meeting against South Dakota St. (They play this game eight days after they beat Akron; guess the players are going through finals now.)
#-3: Gopher women's hockey (Last Week: -6). Swept Ohio St. at Ridder. Have to dock this team behind the male ballers because they needed to come from behind and beat the Buckeyes, 2-1 in overtime, in the second game that was postponed from Saturday afternoon to Sunday afternoon because of the damn blizzard.
Amanda Kessel, little sister of Gopher alum and current NHL pro (and headcase, seeing that he's already been traded once) Phil Kessel, was named WCHA Rookie Of The Week for her four assists in Friday's 6-0 ass-kicking of The Ohio State University. She can enjoy it for the next month or so, because the team doesn't play until, get this, the 7th and 8th of January. Good; I can leave them off the next WMNSS's. Thank you!
#-4: Gopher men's hockey (Last Week: -9). A very good rebound from their putrid sweep at MSU-Mankato. But is Minnesota supposed to be known for rebounding after bad road trips to teams supposedly inferior to it? It was a win and a tie against UMD, which was (at least then) ranked as high as second in the country. Apparently much of the credit goes to Goalie Kent Patterson, who was named WCHA Co-Defensive Player Of The Week. He stopped 78-of-82 shots in their two games against the Bulldogs.
So now will they follow up this spirited performance with another listless weekend? They'll have to wait till the end of the month; they participate in the Mariucci Classic starting New Year's Eve. And speaking of holidays ... not needing to write about either of the hockey teams or the wrestling is like an early Christmas present for me!
#-5: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -3). You're kidding me. Did they just lose to a Historically Black College? Alabama A&M?? Really??? It was on the road, I guess ... no, this is bad. Seriously, seriously bad. No offense to HBCU's out there -- oh, who am I kidding, I'll be offending them -- but no, uh, full-fledged school should lose to them. Never.
This is becoming an embarrassment. Crowds that swelled so large in the Whalen-McCarville years that they had to move from the Sports Pavilion to Williams Arena are getting small enough that they can fit back into the Pav. That is a shocking sign of atrophy. I understand that Athletic Director Joel Maturi has a hell of a lot of things on his plate, including finding yet another new Head Coach (see below; aside: I saw Maturi snacking at the campus McDonald's today. Totally dig that he doesn't retreat into his office and instead goes out into the public. And yet it's so strange.) But I don't see how anybody who cares about the U. can let how the program has deteriorated under Pam Borton go by without raising questions. They host Northern Arizona Wednesday. There is no longer a guarantee they'll win this game.
#-6: Wild (Last Week: -7). OK, this team definitely sucks. A 1-2 week -- the win was in overtime at Los Angeles, the losses being a 6-2 shellacking at Anaheim and a 3-1 home loss to Ottawa the night where the organization makes its first serious effort to rightfully bridge the gap of Minnesota professional hockey to the North Stars by honoring Dino Cicarelli. They could have used Dino's grit and ability to get under opposing players' skin. Shit, the Wild could've used Dino himself last (Thursday) night.
The question becomes: Is there a plan here? They might say they're trying to be competitive and think they can make the playoffs (I don't know for sure). But the results indicate that these guys are just waiting for the NHL Draft and trying to get as high of a spot as possible. I just don't know if they're trying to rebuild or not. Anyway, they have three this week: A home-and-home with the Bastard Atlanta Flames, then at the Bastard Quebec Nordiques.
#-7: Timberwolves (Last Week: -8). A 1-3 week. Has Detroit fallen on black days or what? When you lose to the Woofie Dogs, even at home, you now suck. (Read a piece about how there are no fans at the Palace anymore. Sad, but they were in the same situation before, and they put in place a marketing campaign that was successful enough to work before they became better and won the NBA Title.)
I know the Woofie Dogs have definitely fallen on black days. I had to stay home because of the damn blizzard on Saturday, so I had the "pleasure" of watching Minnesota get destroyed at Chicago by 31. Like the Wild, I have to ask with this organization, Is there a plan? What will make this team finally better? Waiting for Jonny Flynn and Martell Webster to get healthy and up and running? A better floor general than Flynn? Time to grasp the Triangle Offense? New coaching? Anything so stretches where they win only 2 of 13 games don't happen anymore.
They finish the back half of their six-game road trip this week with games at Portland, Denver and the Paper Clips. They then host Utah, at a game I'm going to because my sister and brother-in-law are in town and he's never seen an American sporting event before. I really want to know if this crew will be competent anytime soon, but definitely by the time we show up because I want to impress him.
#-8: Vikings (Last Week: -2). Goddamn. What. A. Mess. And the Metrodome's in bad shape, too. (Hi-yo!!!!!!!!!!) Like I've said before, what a glacial turd of a game by the Vikings at Ford Field. If there is any doubt this team checked out before, their 21-3 loss to the Giants, a game in which even the G-Men looked disinterested in playing, cemented that. Tarvaris Jackson, I've concluded, can play against bad teams, but he looks awful against good ones; with him going to IR, he's done as a Vike. And fuckin' A, we haven't even gotten to Brett Favre willingly -- willingly!!! -- sitting out the game, breaking his Ironman regular season game-starting streak at 297. I really, really thought that if he could even hand off, he'd be in there for the first snap, hand off, qualify as "starting," then sit out the rest of the game. But no. Did he have too much pride in even trying to extend his streak while in serious pain, or did the coaching staff not do enough to stroke his ego into playing?
So now everybody's banged up. Joe Webb might start, but they have Patrick Ramsey on the team now. This is the point where you stop thinking about getting the best 53 men on your team and start hoping for 53 men, period. Yet even if players are supposed to be playing for their jobs, you know this team has more than checked out. They have to play Chicago, an actual good team with playoff hopes, and they have to play them outside? Where it's all cold and the field might be frozen enough that they'll be running Monday night on concrete?? And with all this grand hoopla over the 50th season of the team and a halftime ceremony commemorating the 50 Greatest Vikings Of All Time basically ruined now that they have to do all this in a new venue??? Shit, I would quit.
By the way, it's going to be a madhouse. Fifteen-thousand less people can come into the stadium, so if you're a season ticket-holder, you could get shut out. But if you want a refund, you'll have to send in the tickets by tomorrow. Huh? So if you try to go in and can't, you lose your money?! What a crock of shit.
Oh, by the way ... wasn't the footage of the Metrodome roof caving in awesome??? I mean, it's the latest apocalyptic thing to happen to the team this year, but it was fucking amazing. And, this might be the thing that finally lands the Vikings a new stadium so they won't be leaving to Los Angeles. Although ... the fact that they'll be playing 29 years to the day of their last game outdoors kind of makes me think this was destined to happen.
#-Infinity: Gopher volleyball (Last Week: 0). A sad, sad end to the season, and an extremely sad end of an era. The Gophs were swept in their Sweet 16 match against Cal on Friday. They only lost by two points all three sets, but seeing as now the Golden Bears are in the Title Game being played tomorrow, I can see how they were facing a formidable opponent. Unlike last year, where in the postseason they somehow struck magic after an up-and-down year to make the Final Four, this squad came in with a bunch of momentum but got struck down in the regional semifinal by a very good team. Shit happens.
Unfortunately, the assurance that the program will always be a good one is now put into flux because after the match, Head Coach Dr. Mike Hebert retired. He never got that elusive NCAA title he deserved, but he still has an enviable coaching record, seen here. I wonder now who's going to replace Hebert, and more importantly, if she or he is going to uphold the standard of winning I and other fans are used to.
The coaching search is in the hands of Maturi, thought. Not many people have faith that he can find a good replacement, especially after they're underwhelmed with the hiring of Jerry Kill. I honestly kind of feel bad that he continues to have to find people to hire. And a huge consideration is the strain on the budget. The department can bend over backwards to find a football coach because college football runs the engine of athletic departments. But who in the hell would spend money on a volleyball coach?
I will toss in a vote for continuity by recommended Associate Head Coach Scott Swanson. He was the wingman beside Hebert. He's had head coaching experience at UTEP, a top-flight school (for four years). I think what you liked about Hebert you'll get in Swanson. And I am taking into consideration that they the Athletic Department doesn't have any money. Who else would be better?
Well, maybe I shouldn't be so blown away. I don't know wrestling that well, so maybe the Gophers or any other elite program plays like a barnstorming Negro League team all the time. And it's not as if they're playing the Soviet Olympic team here. So let's just honor Freshman 184-pounder Kevin Steinhaus for being named Big Ten Wrestler Of The Week. He's climbing in his class poll after scoring major decisions in both meets.
They're resting (and therefore are off the WMNSS) till around New Year's -- thank God, I can't keep writing this long for any longer -- where they rassle in the Southern Scuffle in Greensboro, N.C. I don't know how to quantify tournaments, so I might keep them off the survey after they come back from finals.
#-2: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -1). The 20th-ranked team skated this week, picking up easy wins in guarantee/"bodybag" games in The Barn against Eastern Kentucky and Akron. This is the time of the year where Tubby Smith isn't trying to burnish the team's RPI but the number of wins they have. Well, it beats losing. They finish their three-game homestand with a meeting against South Dakota St. (They play this game eight days after they beat Akron; guess the players are going through finals now.)
#-3: Gopher women's hockey (Last Week: -6). Swept Ohio St. at Ridder. Have to dock this team behind the male ballers because they needed to come from behind and beat the Buckeyes, 2-1 in overtime, in the second game that was postponed from Saturday afternoon to Sunday afternoon because of the damn blizzard.
Amanda Kessel, little sister of Gopher alum and current NHL pro (and headcase, seeing that he's already been traded once) Phil Kessel, was named WCHA Rookie Of The Week for her four assists in Friday's 6-0 ass-kicking of The Ohio State University. She can enjoy it for the next month or so, because the team doesn't play until, get this, the 7th and 8th of January. Good; I can leave them off the next WMNSS's. Thank you!
#-4: Gopher men's hockey (Last Week: -9). A very good rebound from their putrid sweep at MSU-Mankato. But is Minnesota supposed to be known for rebounding after bad road trips to teams supposedly inferior to it? It was a win and a tie against UMD, which was (at least then) ranked as high as second in the country. Apparently much of the credit goes to Goalie Kent Patterson, who was named WCHA Co-Defensive Player Of The Week. He stopped 78-of-82 shots in their two games against the Bulldogs.
So now will they follow up this spirited performance with another listless weekend? They'll have to wait till the end of the month; they participate in the Mariucci Classic starting New Year's Eve. And speaking of holidays ... not needing to write about either of the hockey teams or the wrestling is like an early Christmas present for me!
#-5: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -3). You're kidding me. Did they just lose to a Historically Black College? Alabama A&M?? Really??? It was on the road, I guess ... no, this is bad. Seriously, seriously bad. No offense to HBCU's out there -- oh, who am I kidding, I'll be offending them -- but no, uh, full-fledged school should lose to them. Never.
This is becoming an embarrassment. Crowds that swelled so large in the Whalen-McCarville years that they had to move from the Sports Pavilion to Williams Arena are getting small enough that they can fit back into the Pav. That is a shocking sign of atrophy. I understand that Athletic Director Joel Maturi has a hell of a lot of things on his plate, including finding yet another new Head Coach (see below; aside: I saw Maturi snacking at the campus McDonald's today. Totally dig that he doesn't retreat into his office and instead goes out into the public. And yet it's so strange.) But I don't see how anybody who cares about the U. can let how the program has deteriorated under Pam Borton go by without raising questions. They host Northern Arizona Wednesday. There is no longer a guarantee they'll win this game.
#-6: Wild (Last Week: -7). OK, this team definitely sucks. A 1-2 week -- the win was in overtime at Los Angeles, the losses being a 6-2 shellacking at Anaheim and a 3-1 home loss to Ottawa the night where the organization makes its first serious effort to rightfully bridge the gap of Minnesota professional hockey to the North Stars by honoring Dino Cicarelli. They could have used Dino's grit and ability to get under opposing players' skin. Shit, the Wild could've used Dino himself last (Thursday) night.
The question becomes: Is there a plan here? They might say they're trying to be competitive and think they can make the playoffs (I don't know for sure). But the results indicate that these guys are just waiting for the NHL Draft and trying to get as high of a spot as possible. I just don't know if they're trying to rebuild or not. Anyway, they have three this week: A home-and-home with the Bastard Atlanta Flames, then at the Bastard Quebec Nordiques.
#-7: Timberwolves (Last Week: -8). A 1-3 week. Has Detroit fallen on black days or what? When you lose to the Woofie Dogs, even at home, you now suck. (Read a piece about how there are no fans at the Palace anymore. Sad, but they were in the same situation before, and they put in place a marketing campaign that was successful enough to work before they became better and won the NBA Title.)
I know the Woofie Dogs have definitely fallen on black days. I had to stay home because of the damn blizzard on Saturday, so I had the "pleasure" of watching Minnesota get destroyed at Chicago by 31. Like the Wild, I have to ask with this organization, Is there a plan? What will make this team finally better? Waiting for Jonny Flynn and Martell Webster to get healthy and up and running? A better floor general than Flynn? Time to grasp the Triangle Offense? New coaching? Anything so stretches where they win only 2 of 13 games don't happen anymore.
They finish the back half of their six-game road trip this week with games at Portland, Denver and the Paper Clips. They then host Utah, at a game I'm going to because my sister and brother-in-law are in town and he's never seen an American sporting event before. I really want to know if this crew will be competent anytime soon, but definitely by the time we show up because I want to impress him.
#-8: Vikings (Last Week: -2). Goddamn. What. A. Mess. And the Metrodome's in bad shape, too. (Hi-yo!!!!!!!!!!) Like I've said before, what a glacial turd of a game by the Vikings at Ford Field. If there is any doubt this team checked out before, their 21-3 loss to the Giants, a game in which even the G-Men looked disinterested in playing, cemented that. Tarvaris Jackson, I've concluded, can play against bad teams, but he looks awful against good ones; with him going to IR, he's done as a Vike. And fuckin' A, we haven't even gotten to Brett Favre willingly -- willingly!!! -- sitting out the game, breaking his Ironman regular season game-starting streak at 297. I really, really thought that if he could even hand off, he'd be in there for the first snap, hand off, qualify as "starting," then sit out the rest of the game. But no. Did he have too much pride in even trying to extend his streak while in serious pain, or did the coaching staff not do enough to stroke his ego into playing?
So now everybody's banged up. Joe Webb might start, but they have Patrick Ramsey on the team now. This is the point where you stop thinking about getting the best 53 men on your team and start hoping for 53 men, period. Yet even if players are supposed to be playing for their jobs, you know this team has more than checked out. They have to play Chicago, an actual good team with playoff hopes, and they have to play them outside? Where it's all cold and the field might be frozen enough that they'll be running Monday night on concrete?? And with all this grand hoopla over the 50th season of the team and a halftime ceremony commemorating the 50 Greatest Vikings Of All Time basically ruined now that they have to do all this in a new venue??? Shit, I would quit.
By the way, it's going to be a madhouse. Fifteen-thousand less people can come into the stadium, so if you're a season ticket-holder, you could get shut out. But if you want a refund, you'll have to send in the tickets by tomorrow. Huh? So if you try to go in and can't, you lose your money?! What a crock of shit.
Oh, by the way ... wasn't the footage of the Metrodome roof caving in awesome??? I mean, it's the latest apocalyptic thing to happen to the team this year, but it was fucking amazing. And, this might be the thing that finally lands the Vikings a new stadium so they won't be leaving to Los Angeles. Although ... the fact that they'll be playing 29 years to the day of their last game outdoors kind of makes me think this was destined to happen.
#-Infinity: Gopher volleyball (Last Week: 0). A sad, sad end to the season, and an extremely sad end of an era. The Gophs were swept in their Sweet 16 match against Cal on Friday. They only lost by two points all three sets, but seeing as now the Golden Bears are in the Title Game being played tomorrow, I can see how they were facing a formidable opponent. Unlike last year, where in the postseason they somehow struck magic after an up-and-down year to make the Final Four, this squad came in with a bunch of momentum but got struck down in the regional semifinal by a very good team. Shit happens.
Unfortunately, the assurance that the program will always be a good one is now put into flux because after the match, Head Coach Dr. Mike Hebert retired. He never got that elusive NCAA title he deserved, but he still has an enviable coaching record, seen here. I wonder now who's going to replace Hebert, and more importantly, if she or he is going to uphold the standard of winning I and other fans are used to.
The coaching search is in the hands of Maturi, thought. Not many people have faith that he can find a good replacement, especially after they're underwhelmed with the hiring of Jerry Kill. I honestly kind of feel bad that he continues to have to find people to hire. And a huge consideration is the strain on the budget. The department can bend over backwards to find a football coach because college football runs the engine of athletic departments. But who in the hell would spend money on a volleyball coach?
I will toss in a vote for continuity by recommended Associate Head Coach Scott Swanson. He was the wingman beside Hebert. He's had head coaching experience at UTEP, a top-flight school (for four years). I think what you liked about Hebert you'll get in Swanson. And I am taking into consideration that they the Athletic Department doesn't have any money. Who else would be better?
Thursday, December 16, 2010
God Damn My Forgetfulness
Yesterday I was drinking coffee when my phone rang. It was Mother: "Did you get Father's pills yet?"
That's when I remembered that Father asked me the night before to get them. It went in one ear and out the other.
I was so distraught that I broke my promise to Grandmother to come back around 5 and instead to come back 45 minutes later. I've done that a lot of times, but I really meant it this time. And I lied.
---
Just now, my parents came home. I was upstairs trying to get dinner set. From downtstairs, Mother screams: "Did you make the deposit yet?"
That's when I remembered that she told me last night about the checks she wanted deposited. In one ear and out the other, again.
God damn my forgetfulness. I hate this about myself, I so do. They tell me to do something -- not out of spite, but just because they needed me to do it. And I forgot as quickly as I heard it. I so hate that about myself, so, so much.
That's when I remembered that Father asked me the night before to get them. It went in one ear and out the other.
I was so distraught that I broke my promise to Grandmother to come back around 5 and instead to come back 45 minutes later. I've done that a lot of times, but I really meant it this time. And I lied.
---
Just now, my parents came home. I was upstairs trying to get dinner set. From downtstairs, Mother screams: "Did you make the deposit yet?"
That's when I remembered that she told me last night about the checks she wanted deposited. In one ear and out the other, again.
God damn my forgetfulness. I hate this about myself, I so do. They tell me to do something -- not out of spite, but just because they needed me to do it. And I forgot as quickly as I heard it. I so hate that about myself, so, so much.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
I have a day planner. Franklin Quest, though it's technically called Franklin Covey now. At the end of every month there is a page to list all your expenses. What I usually do is write down my expenses for the day, then tally them up after the end of the month, just to see how much I've spent and on what. I have never been punctual about getting that done as soon as the month closes, but that doesn't stop the beginning of the month; oftentimes I'll have to keep up with expenses for the first days of the next month before getting around to tying up the monthly expense list of the previous one.
Well, it had gotten worse in the past few years, where I've been procrastinating later and later into the month before finishing up the monthly expense list and not getting around to writing down the expenses of the first days of the next month. This month, however, has been an absolute abomination. I didn't get around to filling out my monthly expense list until yesterday. Moreover, this time around I used that as an excuse to not put the pages of December in, so I haven't put down the expenses for this month.
Actually I still haven't. I've stopped myself because I'm trying to remember if I need to write down things I don't have a receipt for. Meanwhile, I have a rather thick pile of receipts I haven't gotten around to yet. I'm stopped on ... let me see ... the 5th because I need to get back on this blog and see what I wrote down for that day. And I can't do that unless I finish this blog post for today. See how it backs up?
I've relied on catching up with expenses during my downtime at the U. "working." But lately my experiments have been runs that are so long that I don't have time to take a break and do this. I've had no downtime. Last night during that glacial turd of a Vikings game and tonight after I surf Reality Kings porn is my downtime. Maybe. Or maybe I won't get around this until tomorrow. But that'll be it. I swear. Possibly.
Well, it had gotten worse in the past few years, where I've been procrastinating later and later into the month before finishing up the monthly expense list and not getting around to writing down the expenses of the first days of the next month. This month, however, has been an absolute abomination. I didn't get around to filling out my monthly expense list until yesterday. Moreover, this time around I used that as an excuse to not put the pages of December in, so I haven't put down the expenses for this month.
Actually I still haven't. I've stopped myself because I'm trying to remember if I need to write down things I don't have a receipt for. Meanwhile, I have a rather thick pile of receipts I haven't gotten around to yet. I'm stopped on ... let me see ... the 5th because I need to get back on this blog and see what I wrote down for that day. And I can't do that unless I finish this blog post for today. See how it backs up?
I've relied on catching up with expenses during my downtime at the U. "working." But lately my experiments have been runs that are so long that I don't have time to take a break and do this. I've had no downtime. Last night during that glacial turd of a Vikings game and tonight after I surf Reality Kings porn is my downtime. Maybe. Or maybe I won't get around this until tomorrow. But that'll be it. I swear. Possibly.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
I Get Emotional After My Sports Teams Lose
Have I said that before? Well, maybe you could tell by how much I obsess with sports. Another instance of my body chemistry rapidly changing after the end of that glacial turd of a loss by the Los Angeles Minnesota Vikings reaffirms that.
I wanted to stay up, I really did. I didn't even see much of the game; after seeing Tarvaris Jackson fail to move the offense and the once-vaunted Vikings rush defense give up huge runs in the first half, I went from watching that to flipping between it and Skating With The Stars, then watching the Mariah Carey special and going back to the game during breaks (aside: "All I Want For Christmas" -- the new Christmas standard), to watching Hawaii Five-O the whole time. I had no reason to go back; not only were the Vikings not doing anything, besides those big runs, the New York Giants really weren't either. It was an abortion of a game for fans, Vikings', Giants', Lions' and neither all, at Ford Field in Detroit.
So with any mathematical hopes for this club to make the playoff officially gone -- they still had a chance! And Eli Manning loves to throw picks! -- I am officially pooped. It doesn't help that Letterman had the overrated, creepily amoral Ricky Gervais on as a first guest. I wanted to sleep because I got really, really tired after the loss. But Leno did have Mark Wahlberg, and then followed him up with the sexy-as-hell Olivia Wilde. Neither musical act floated my boat, but Fallon and his Christmas sweaters tided me over to Jessica Alba, who looked taller than I remember her.
Kimmel's monologue I now look forward to as much as I do Letterman's, and he didn't disappoint. However, even though I think Rachael Ray's deceptively sexy, I don't cook, so I don't quite care about the book she was plugging. I decided to stop fighting fatigue and called it a night when Kimmel said they were cooking.
Looking back at it, there were enough dead spots on last night's show that maybe I would've hit the hay even if the Vikings won. But I'm still down.
I wanted to stay up, I really did. I didn't even see much of the game; after seeing Tarvaris Jackson fail to move the offense and the once-vaunted Vikings rush defense give up huge runs in the first half, I went from watching that to flipping between it and Skating With The Stars, then watching the Mariah Carey special and going back to the game during breaks (aside: "All I Want For Christmas" -- the new Christmas standard), to watching Hawaii Five-O the whole time. I had no reason to go back; not only were the Vikings not doing anything, besides those big runs, the New York Giants really weren't either. It was an abortion of a game for fans, Vikings', Giants', Lions' and neither all, at Ford Field in Detroit.
So with any mathematical hopes for this club to make the playoff officially gone -- they still had a chance! And Eli Manning loves to throw picks! -- I am officially pooped. It doesn't help that Letterman had the overrated, creepily amoral Ricky Gervais on as a first guest. I wanted to sleep because I got really, really tired after the loss. But Leno did have Mark Wahlberg, and then followed him up with the sexy-as-hell Olivia Wilde. Neither musical act floated my boat, but Fallon and his Christmas sweaters tided me over to Jessica Alba, who looked taller than I remember her.
Kimmel's monologue I now look forward to as much as I do Letterman's, and he didn't disappoint. However, even though I think Rachael Ray's deceptively sexy, I don't cook, so I don't quite care about the book she was plugging. I decided to stop fighting fatigue and called it a night when Kimmel said they were cooking.
Looking back at it, there were enough dead spots on last night's show that maybe I would've hit the hay even if the Vikings won. But I'm still down.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Chronicles From The Blizzard Of 2010, Part 1
(I wanted to talk about the following things about the snowstorm first, before Part 2, but I was so floored over what My Fucking Father did to me that I had to blog about that first yesterday.)
First they said it was going to go through Iowa, and we'd get a few inches of snow. And then they said the storm was headed straight towards us, and therefore we're going to take in the ass, hard.
They said it would arrive some time after midnight. And then they said it would come between 9 and midnight.
I decided that even though I could get caught up in the storm, I was going to work out and then go this burlesque show. It's close enough to home that I can take side streets if need be. Besides, I still need to know if the chick who's a stripper and whom I showed my dick to would still be warm to me or whether she'll just be aloofly cordial.
It started when I was driving there, around 10:15. I didn't notice it at first, but I saw the snow/sleet coming at my headlights. First it seemed light, but then it started coming down. And by the time I got to the door of the club, it was really coming down. While waiting for the show to start, all I could do was lean with my back to the bar, turn my head towards the part of the front door I could see, gaze at the snow falling hard and shake my head at what I have to drive home in.
Show was fun; as usual, she was the best part of the show. But when it ended, I could only get her at the bar as she was getting something to drink. Although she acknowledged the tip I gave her in front of the crowd at the beginning of the show, she only would say hi and make, like, two seconds of chit-chat with me. She was busy, and I really wanted to get going, but I still think this is a bad sign. I was going to be someone she really looked forward to seeing at One Of My Favorite Stripclubs, but after exposing myself to her, I'm just The Weird Guy to her. Damn. Maybe I shouldn't go to these things anymore.
---
As I started scraping the copious snow off my car, I turn on my phone. Turns out that my parents did call. I'm always afraid they'd call me in these situations (bad weather, staying out late), but they never did -- till now.
It said My Father called, but when I called back it was Mother. I hate it when people answer other people's phones. Anyway, I told her I was at my car and I'm coming home now.
"It's very bad outside," Mother said. Usually My Father would say that to the point where he'd call and let me know. Of course, I believe Mother's more genuine about it; Father's just annoying me when he calls saying things like that.
Mother's usually asleep at 1 in the morning. That she called to check on how I was doing is historic.
---
I'll take the cold. The cold's fine -- well, OK, it's not fine -- but I prefer that over the snow. With the cold you can dress in layers and stay indoors. But the snow ices up roads, causes accidents, and hurts people. No, give me the cold -- just take away those fucking snowstorms.
---
While walking to roller derby in St. Paul tonight, there's this guy carrying what looks to be an army sack. I heard him before I saw him; he was talking gibberish, but talking loudly. I mean, around the entire downtown St. Paul area loudly. I think he was vowing to murder somebody, who the fuck knows.
I just stopped at my tracks as he was coming towards me (no eye contact) as he went a different path. I quickly walked past him.
Either he's crazy, or the cold is making him crazy.
---
And finally, although I may have had a hand in creating this, you all have to stop talking about it as a "snownami," or calling it a "snowpocalypse." Just fucking call it what it is and say it's a fucking blizzard, OK? But now those terms are being used by everyone. Sigh.
First they said it was going to go through Iowa, and we'd get a few inches of snow. And then they said the storm was headed straight towards us, and therefore we're going to take in the ass, hard.
They said it would arrive some time after midnight. And then they said it would come between 9 and midnight.
I decided that even though I could get caught up in the storm, I was going to work out and then go this burlesque show. It's close enough to home that I can take side streets if need be. Besides, I still need to know if the chick who's a stripper and whom I showed my dick to would still be warm to me or whether she'll just be aloofly cordial.
It started when I was driving there, around 10:15. I didn't notice it at first, but I saw the snow/sleet coming at my headlights. First it seemed light, but then it started coming down. And by the time I got to the door of the club, it was really coming down. While waiting for the show to start, all I could do was lean with my back to the bar, turn my head towards the part of the front door I could see, gaze at the snow falling hard and shake my head at what I have to drive home in.
Show was fun; as usual, she was the best part of the show. But when it ended, I could only get her at the bar as she was getting something to drink. Although she acknowledged the tip I gave her in front of the crowd at the beginning of the show, she only would say hi and make, like, two seconds of chit-chat with me. She was busy, and I really wanted to get going, but I still think this is a bad sign. I was going to be someone she really looked forward to seeing at One Of My Favorite Stripclubs, but after exposing myself to her, I'm just The Weird Guy to her. Damn. Maybe I shouldn't go to these things anymore.
---
As I started scraping the copious snow off my car, I turn on my phone. Turns out that my parents did call. I'm always afraid they'd call me in these situations (bad weather, staying out late), but they never did -- till now.
It said My Father called, but when I called back it was Mother. I hate it when people answer other people's phones. Anyway, I told her I was at my car and I'm coming home now.
"It's very bad outside," Mother said. Usually My Father would say that to the point where he'd call and let me know. Of course, I believe Mother's more genuine about it; Father's just annoying me when he calls saying things like that.
Mother's usually asleep at 1 in the morning. That she called to check on how I was doing is historic.
---
I'll take the cold. The cold's fine -- well, OK, it's not fine -- but I prefer that over the snow. With the cold you can dress in layers and stay indoors. But the snow ices up roads, causes accidents, and hurts people. No, give me the cold -- just take away those fucking snowstorms.
---
While walking to roller derby in St. Paul tonight, there's this guy carrying what looks to be an army sack. I heard him before I saw him; he was talking gibberish, but talking loudly. I mean, around the entire downtown St. Paul area loudly. I think he was vowing to murder somebody, who the fuck knows.
I just stopped at my tracks as he was coming towards me (no eye contact) as he went a different path. I quickly walked past him.
Either he's crazy, or the cold is making him crazy.
---
And finally, although I may have had a hand in creating this, you all have to stop talking about it as a "snownami," or calling it a "snowpocalypse." Just fucking call it what it is and say it's a fucking blizzard, OK? But now those terms are being used by everyone. Sigh.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Well, I Know One Thing: They Can't Ignore The Vikings' Stadium Situation Anymore
I know this will cost us taxpayers money, and this is kind of tragic, but it's also pretty fucking awesome:
Of course, the question now is, Can the Vikes play in time for their Monday night game against Chicago? But there are much more important questions in regards to the Vikings' future and their push for a new stadium paid for by us Minnesotans.
In regards to this, the salient question is: What will the Wilfs do now? Is this a tipping point in this stadium controversy? Do the Wilfs think this is now a hammer they can wield in their quest for a replacement for the Dome, and how much and how hard will they use it on the state legislature and us citizens?
On the other side, will the anti-stadium folk resent however the Wilfs use this Dome collapse in their stadium to get Minnesota to give them a new billion-dollar stadium? It will be interesting to see how they will capitalize on this. Will they come to Ford Field in Detroit and tell the media that they love this stadium? Will they find out if the Wilfs travel to Los Angeles to talk to people who want to build the team, like I've heard already? Will they come back to the Dome and wear hardhats while checking out how safe it is, trashing every single part of it -- "Well, it seems to be sagging here" ... "And the door handle here doesn't work; what would happen if someone got trapped on the inside?" ... "By the way, I don't like how we're using concrete everywhere here" -- stuff like that.
The anti-stadium side has been dealt a blow. But I know that in an argument like this, the side that seizes the crisis probably wins, and the side that panicks and blinks and bows their head to this will lose. I want the Vikings to stay, but I don't want to engage in corporate welfare, especially when the corporation won't contribute a single cent to the stadium. I don't think that will happen with the Wilfs; I really do believe Zygi Wilf when he says he won't move the team. I'm just really scared that right now, Mr. Wilf and his workers are quietly but quickly reworking their stadium proposal to make it a little more favorable to their side.
That is what the anti-stadium people are afraid of, and they have a point. They could say, in fact, that this collapse is the result of a once-in-a-generation blizzard. And while collapses and deflations have happened before, the last time it did was in 1983. "Like you haven't had to make repairs to your house after 27 years!" they could say. And honestly, I can see that. And so they/we await how much the new Vikings stadium will cost us.
Of course, no proposal proposed matters if it doesn't pass. And the state government has punted on this stadium issue for a decade. I don't see how it could pass this year, either. The new governor, Mark Dayton, is the first Democrat in that seat in two decades. However, both sides of the Minnesota Legislature are Republican for the first time in four decades.
Plus, those Republicans were swept into power under a teabagger mandate; why in the hell will they give Zygi Wilf money? And even if they go back on their word and approve the Vikings' stadium proposal, what happens if Dayton vetoes it? (I assume that he's anti-stadium only because he's a Democrat.) Remember, there is 9.5% unemployment nationally, and the state is facing a deficit of six billion dollars.
But, like I say in the title above, I know one thing: They can't ignore the Vikings' stadium situation anymore.
Of course, the question now is, Can the Vikes play in time for their Monday night game against Chicago? But there are much more important questions in regards to the Vikings' future and their push for a new stadium paid for by us Minnesotans.
In regards to this, the salient question is: What will the Wilfs do now? Is this a tipping point in this stadium controversy? Do the Wilfs think this is now a hammer they can wield in their quest for a replacement for the Dome, and how much and how hard will they use it on the state legislature and us citizens?
On the other side, will the anti-stadium folk resent however the Wilfs use this Dome collapse in their stadium to get Minnesota to give them a new billion-dollar stadium? It will be interesting to see how they will capitalize on this. Will they come to Ford Field in Detroit and tell the media that they love this stadium? Will they find out if the Wilfs travel to Los Angeles to talk to people who want to build the team, like I've heard already? Will they come back to the Dome and wear hardhats while checking out how safe it is, trashing every single part of it -- "Well, it seems to be sagging here" ... "And the door handle here doesn't work; what would happen if someone got trapped on the inside?" ... "By the way, I don't like how we're using concrete everywhere here" -- stuff like that.
The anti-stadium side has been dealt a blow. But I know that in an argument like this, the side that seizes the crisis probably wins, and the side that panicks and blinks and bows their head to this will lose. I want the Vikings to stay, but I don't want to engage in corporate welfare, especially when the corporation won't contribute a single cent to the stadium. I don't think that will happen with the Wilfs; I really do believe Zygi Wilf when he says he won't move the team. I'm just really scared that right now, Mr. Wilf and his workers are quietly but quickly reworking their stadium proposal to make it a little more favorable to their side.
That is what the anti-stadium people are afraid of, and they have a point. They could say, in fact, that this collapse is the result of a once-in-a-generation blizzard. And while collapses and deflations have happened before, the last time it did was in 1983. "Like you haven't had to make repairs to your house after 27 years!" they could say. And honestly, I can see that. And so they/we await how much the new Vikings stadium will cost us.
Of course, no proposal proposed matters if it doesn't pass. And the state government has punted on this stadium issue for a decade. I don't see how it could pass this year, either. The new governor, Mark Dayton, is the first Democrat in that seat in two decades. However, both sides of the Minnesota Legislature are Republican for the first time in four decades.
Plus, those Republicans were swept into power under a teabagger mandate; why in the hell will they give Zygi Wilf money? And even if they go back on their word and approve the Vikings' stadium proposal, what happens if Dayton vetoes it? (I assume that he's anti-stadium only because he's a Democrat.) Remember, there is 9.5% unemployment nationally, and the state is facing a deficit of six billion dollars.
But, like I say in the title above, I know one thing: They can't ignore the Vikings' stadium situation anymore.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Chronicles From The Blizzard Of 2010, Part 2
I'll get to the blizzard's details a little later tonight. But I need to get to My Fucking Father's latest blowup on me today.
Things started out well enough this morning. I realized that my parents would need some help with the snowstorm that is shitting snow on us right now, so I slept a little earlier, woke up in the morning, and finally came out of my room when I heard Father outside. He was actually quite chipper towards me, despite the weather; he was asking me, genuinely, questions about the storm, and he offered me this tea he said was expensive. Either he's a masochist or he was pleasantly surprised I woke up around the same time as he did; I think that if I didn't wake up in the morning, he was going to wake me up and make me go with them.
Even better was that Father was able to get the snowblower to finally work again. He did it for our last snowstorm, which was last weekend, but I was afraid it was on its last legs and that Father just was able to get it to operate one last time before it expired for good. I sure as fuck would not know what we'd do without it working. My sister's best friend lives two houses down from us and they have one; she even helped us clear our driveway last year. But not only can we face any snowstorm now, I feel as if we've recovered a feeling of independence. Never more do we have to break our backs as we break our shovels, or wait for my sister's best friend to come with her little plucky Toro to bail us out of our wintry prison.
Of course, that doesn't mean we're going to conquer every challenge. What my parents wanted to do was dig out the parking lots at the store and their warehouse, which was our first stop.
I hadn't been there in a couple years, so I don't know where the parking lot or driveway was. What Father told me to do -- well, actually yelling through the wind and because of the cold -- was cut a path around the warehouse. And he told me to take it easy on the throttle to make sure the auger isn't overwhelmed with the snow.
As soon as I started plowing, the wind that was part of all the background noise presented itself as my nemesis. Things were going well, but then I felt that my hands were numb. That is, I felt that I couldn't feel my hands. The snow, melting on my gloves, laid the groundwork of the chilling of my hands, and it did incredibly quickly.
When they always say on the news to be careful for frostbite when working outside, truthfully I thought, "Well, that can't happen to me." I fucking believe it now. Almost in an instant I couldn't feel my hands. The combination of numbness and burning was something that I don't think I've ever felt before. And I panicked when I called My Father, a panic that increased exponentially when I could barely use my fingers to even flip open my phone.
My fingers were red, really red, like I was using them, except of course I wasn't. And I felt ... nothing. I couldn't bend them, I could even sense them. I was freaking out when I got Mother on Father's phone, and ... it was either my fear, or the cold, or the noise from the snowblower, but I couldn't get her to understand what I wanted:
Do you have new gloves?
What?
I need new gloves.
What?
I can't feel my fingers!!
Your fingers numb?
YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So as I waited I figure I'll just continue to try to mow. It's only going to get worse if I just sit there. And besides, I was making some impressive headway. The snow was about the height of the mouth of the auger, yet as long as I was taking it slow and not giving it more than it can handle, I was plowing through.
I had to take my gloves off to call, but when I tried to put them on, well, I barely could. I had five popsicles on the ends of my arms. That's when I prepared myself to call 911 if the wind blowing through my gloves into my hands finally convinced me to stop.
However, things got a little better after my call for help. I plowed to the point where I was being shielded by the warehouse, and I didn't notice that the wind might have been blowing from the side where the warehouse is, because the howling, icy gale threatening to amputate my fingers was suddenly gone. Moreover, I realized that there was a muffler on the snowblower that was spitting out exhaust. Hot exhaust. In fact, it had a cage around it and a warning that said, "HOT." Stopping the plowing to pass my hands in front of the exhaust made my fingers feel so good, and feel period, almost immediately. You know, maybe I could get through this after all -- or at least until I plow past the shelter of the warehouse.
In a little while I feel a tap; it was Father, pulling me away from control of the snowthrower. Man, is he pissed that I'm a pussy? He needed to feel my hands.
I retreat to the minivan. Mother was there. No one's shoveling at the store? Too deep, she said. And then a car comes down this street and gets stuck in the side snowbank. Maybe we should've moved over. As this was happening, Father was backing out of the clear path. He quitting?
We finally helped the guy and the girl with her out of getting stuck in the snowbank. Father yelling at me was not a help, however. It was funny; when we finally got their Subaru out of there, the girl behind the wheel continued to drive away, as if she wanted to ditch her man on the road! Aw, good times.
Oh yeah, what was the point of this? We loaded up the snowblower; My Father said, though he didn't actually say it, that we're going home. Crouched in the back, right next to the snowthrower, he still looked kind of peevish, like he was denied something, like a 5-year-old told by his mother that he couldn't get ice cream. Moreover, while loading back the snowblower in the car, when I asked him something, he snapped at me, like he usually does, whining at me loudly in order to rub out any thought I had about doing something that he didn't want to do, even if I wasn't implying I wanted to do something different from what he wanted. Oh-oh. The rather pleasant guy I talked to this morning was gone.
My Fucking Father seemed kind of impatient when we stopped off for gas (for the car and the canister we used to gas up the snowblower), but he finally showed off his immaturity when I got to the driveway. I thought I would park in the middle because 1) it was parked on the left in the morning and I thought it would be good to shovel the snow that was there; 2) they won't have to worry about space; and 3) I wasn't going anywhere tonight, so the minivan doesn't have to make way for my car (I was planning to cancel meeting my friends at the roller derby bout in St. Paul, but they postponed that bout till tomorrow. Sweet!).
Father was about to say something, then sighed in that particular way, like I was making him do something he didn't want to do, but he decided not to say anything and instead pout. "What do you want?!" I asked, I let him know I wasn't going to let his passive-aggressiveness just slide. He didn't say anything, but Mother said they wanted the car on the left side, where it usually is.
We stayed out to shovel a little more snow; this goddamn blizzard will not stop! My Fucking Father wouldn't talk to me, but through body language he pointed out what I was doing wrong with my shoveling. I swept the front door of all the snow that blew off the roof -- there was so much, and I did it twice today -- but didn't deal with the stair where no one walks on. But My Fucking Father clears it all out, like I did an incomplete job. He also shoveled past me and took care of the mouth of the driveway. Father, I was going to get down there.
And then later tonight he tells me that I can eat pizza in the downstairs fridge -- and he did it nicely! Am I just paranoid?
Things started out well enough this morning. I realized that my parents would need some help with the snowstorm that is shitting snow on us right now, so I slept a little earlier, woke up in the morning, and finally came out of my room when I heard Father outside. He was actually quite chipper towards me, despite the weather; he was asking me, genuinely, questions about the storm, and he offered me this tea he said was expensive. Either he's a masochist or he was pleasantly surprised I woke up around the same time as he did; I think that if I didn't wake up in the morning, he was going to wake me up and make me go with them.
Even better was that Father was able to get the snowblower to finally work again. He did it for our last snowstorm, which was last weekend, but I was afraid it was on its last legs and that Father just was able to get it to operate one last time before it expired for good. I sure as fuck would not know what we'd do without it working. My sister's best friend lives two houses down from us and they have one; she even helped us clear our driveway last year. But not only can we face any snowstorm now, I feel as if we've recovered a feeling of independence. Never more do we have to break our backs as we break our shovels, or wait for my sister's best friend to come with her little plucky Toro to bail us out of our wintry prison.
Of course, that doesn't mean we're going to conquer every challenge. What my parents wanted to do was dig out the parking lots at the store and their warehouse, which was our first stop.
I hadn't been there in a couple years, so I don't know where the parking lot or driveway was. What Father told me to do -- well, actually yelling through the wind and because of the cold -- was cut a path around the warehouse. And he told me to take it easy on the throttle to make sure the auger isn't overwhelmed with the snow.
As soon as I started plowing, the wind that was part of all the background noise presented itself as my nemesis. Things were going well, but then I felt that my hands were numb. That is, I felt that I couldn't feel my hands. The snow, melting on my gloves, laid the groundwork of the chilling of my hands, and it did incredibly quickly.
When they always say on the news to be careful for frostbite when working outside, truthfully I thought, "Well, that can't happen to me." I fucking believe it now. Almost in an instant I couldn't feel my hands. The combination of numbness and burning was something that I don't think I've ever felt before. And I panicked when I called My Father, a panic that increased exponentially when I could barely use my fingers to even flip open my phone.
My fingers were red, really red, like I was using them, except of course I wasn't. And I felt ... nothing. I couldn't bend them, I could even sense them. I was freaking out when I got Mother on Father's phone, and ... it was either my fear, or the cold, or the noise from the snowblower, but I couldn't get her to understand what I wanted:
Do you have new gloves?
What?
I need new gloves.
What?
I can't feel my fingers!!
Your fingers numb?
YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So as I waited I figure I'll just continue to try to mow. It's only going to get worse if I just sit there. And besides, I was making some impressive headway. The snow was about the height of the mouth of the auger, yet as long as I was taking it slow and not giving it more than it can handle, I was plowing through.
I had to take my gloves off to call, but when I tried to put them on, well, I barely could. I had five popsicles on the ends of my arms. That's when I prepared myself to call 911 if the wind blowing through my gloves into my hands finally convinced me to stop.
However, things got a little better after my call for help. I plowed to the point where I was being shielded by the warehouse, and I didn't notice that the wind might have been blowing from the side where the warehouse is, because the howling, icy gale threatening to amputate my fingers was suddenly gone. Moreover, I realized that there was a muffler on the snowblower that was spitting out exhaust. Hot exhaust. In fact, it had a cage around it and a warning that said, "HOT." Stopping the plowing to pass my hands in front of the exhaust made my fingers feel so good, and feel period, almost immediately. You know, maybe I could get through this after all -- or at least until I plow past the shelter of the warehouse.
In a little while I feel a tap; it was Father, pulling me away from control of the snowthrower. Man, is he pissed that I'm a pussy? He needed to feel my hands.
I retreat to the minivan. Mother was there. No one's shoveling at the store? Too deep, she said. And then a car comes down this street and gets stuck in the side snowbank. Maybe we should've moved over. As this was happening, Father was backing out of the clear path. He quitting?
We finally helped the guy and the girl with her out of getting stuck in the snowbank. Father yelling at me was not a help, however. It was funny; when we finally got their Subaru out of there, the girl behind the wheel continued to drive away, as if she wanted to ditch her man on the road! Aw, good times.
Oh yeah, what was the point of this? We loaded up the snowblower; My Father said, though he didn't actually say it, that we're going home. Crouched in the back, right next to the snowthrower, he still looked kind of peevish, like he was denied something, like a 5-year-old told by his mother that he couldn't get ice cream. Moreover, while loading back the snowblower in the car, when I asked him something, he snapped at me, like he usually does, whining at me loudly in order to rub out any thought I had about doing something that he didn't want to do, even if I wasn't implying I wanted to do something different from what he wanted. Oh-oh. The rather pleasant guy I talked to this morning was gone.
My Fucking Father seemed kind of impatient when we stopped off for gas (for the car and the canister we used to gas up the snowblower), but he finally showed off his immaturity when I got to the driveway. I thought I would park in the middle because 1) it was parked on the left in the morning and I thought it would be good to shovel the snow that was there; 2) they won't have to worry about space; and 3) I wasn't going anywhere tonight, so the minivan doesn't have to make way for my car (I was planning to cancel meeting my friends at the roller derby bout in St. Paul, but they postponed that bout till tomorrow. Sweet!).
Father was about to say something, then sighed in that particular way, like I was making him do something he didn't want to do, but he decided not to say anything and instead pout. "What do you want?!" I asked, I let him know I wasn't going to let his passive-aggressiveness just slide. He didn't say anything, but Mother said they wanted the car on the left side, where it usually is.
We stayed out to shovel a little more snow; this goddamn blizzard will not stop! My Fucking Father wouldn't talk to me, but through body language he pointed out what I was doing wrong with my shoveling. I swept the front door of all the snow that blew off the roof -- there was so much, and I did it twice today -- but didn't deal with the stair where no one walks on. But My Fucking Father clears it all out, like I did an incomplete job. He also shoveled past me and took care of the mouth of the driveway. Father, I was going to get down there.
And then later tonight he tells me that I can eat pizza in the downstairs fridge -- and he did it nicely! Am I just paranoid?
Friday, December 10, 2010
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
POSITIVE NUMBERS FOREVER!!! : Concordia (St. Paul) (Re-Entry!). For winning the Division II women's volleyball title -- for the fourth straight year! The top-ranked Golden Bears beat second-ranked Tampa in four sets, taking away their spirit in the fourth and final set, 25-10.
These streaks are tremendous: After they had their consecutive-matches streak ended earlier this year at 75, Concordia (St. Paul) have won 22 matches in a row. They have won 24 straight postseason matches in a row. The Tampa Spartans had leads late in the first and third sets, but the Golden Bears came back to win them. They closed out the title game on a 10-2 run, meaning they started out the fourth set leading 15-8. They lose only two seniors for next year's squad, and those two, Krista Erikson and Emily Palkert, leave school without losing a single tournament game. Simply awesome. Congratulations!!
#0: Gopher volleyball (Last Week: Positive Numbers). The big school in the state, quite frankly, has a lot to live up to the parochial college in the Capital City. But they are off to a good start, winning their first two tournament games at the Sports Pavilion over the weekend, against North Dakota St. and Creighton, in straight sets. I saw both matches, and while I wasn't too afraid of Creighton because of their scrappy but not-organized-enough play in their five-set victory over Iowa St., the Gophers, at least to me, had this propensity to lose focus at halftime and drop the third set. Stupid me: They didn't in either game.
So the Gophers are a part of the Sweet Sixteen for the eighth time in the last dozen years, and they have their last nine matches. They are now in Seattle to face Cal, the 7-seed to their 10-seed. Win that, and they face either Nebraska, the second seed in the NCAAs, or Washington, unseeded but playing as the host -- and in volleyball, homecourt advantage plays a big role. I saw it in my own eyes last year as the Gophers upset the third-seeded Florida St. Seminoles in the regional final at the Pav.
#-1: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -6). Encouraging to see that after their somewhat shameful loss to Virginia, the ballers won both of their games this week. And it's against deserving opponents -- home against Cornell, then at St. Joseph's. The victory over the Big Red was a close one, five points, so I guess grinding it out is going to have to be the way this squad wins games, a couple weeks after winning the Puerto Rico Tip-Off. The 15th-ranked team have two home games this week, Eastern Kentucky and Akron.
#-2: Vikings (Last Week: -3). The first complete ass-kicking of the season, 38-14 over permanently cursed Buffalo, in a season where I expected many of these. I don't know what this says about the team after the firing of Brad Childress because Buffalo is awful (even though I thought they'd cover). We'll see for sure whether they will now play for new coach Leslie Frazier when they host the New York Giants (the middle of a three-game homestand) this Sunday -- assuming that the players can get to the Dome and not get stuck under two feet of snow.
#-3: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -2). A 1-1 week. Several years ago, if this team travelled down to Baylor to face a Bears team ranked second or third in the nation, I would really look forward to it. Now, I expect complete prison sex. And I got it: A 103-56 immolation that probably sent this program back further next to the days of Cheryl Littlejohn.
However, they did come back to Williams and beat HBCU, 63-48, in a game described in the Star Tribune in such dour terms that it feels like a loss. Twenty-three turnovers? Glad this was a black college, because a reputable team would use that to beat this team. This week: Home to Cal Poly, then at Alabama A&M -- wow, another HBCU, and I'm afraid they're going to lose to that team.
#-4: Wrestling (Last Week: 0). J Robinson may have his best team in several years, so the third-ranked Gophs' match Sunday against Oklahoma St., ranked second, looked to both a barnburner and a barometer of whether Minnesota could reclaim the mantle as national champion contender.
They couldn't It was close, but apparently 165-pounder and closer Cody Yohn beat Cowboy Dallas Bailey only by a score of 6-4. Yohn needed to beat him by a greater margin to help the Gophers overcome Okie St., but instead they lost, 17-16. (I put this team below the Gopher women's basketball team because they had a very good chance to upset another contender and they had them at home.) he grapplers rebounded with a resounding victory at Nebraska, but so what?
OK, this is weird: They apparently play two round games on the same day, Saturday. Bakersfield and Fullerton are about 90 minutes away from each other, but is this quasi-barnstorming really smart?
#-5: Gopher football (Last Week: -Infinity). I was going to be OK with either Kevin Sumlin, Brady Hoke, or Troy Calhoun. But apparently, none of those mid-major coaches thought going to the U. would be a step up. And that may be the most bracing thing to deal with for both Minnesota Athletic Director Joel Maturi and Gopher fans.
Yeah, we have a brand-new stadium, and we are in the middle of a major metropolitan area. Maturi apparently thought that those were built-in advantages to entice someone to come and try and resuscitate the football program from the dead. But we Minnesotans weren't sold a bill of goods; I think we truly believed that those were built-in advantages, too.
But despite Maturi's bluster that he was going to get someone, he got, instead, Northern Illinois Head Coach Jerry Kill, a guy with no hair (I keep wanting to call him Jheri Curl) and weird teeth who's most known recently for getting upset by Miami (OH) for the Mid-American Conference Championship. I feel bad for Kill; he's starting behind the eight-ball, but it's not his fault. The fanbase don't have anything personal against him, but they despise this choice because it was the selection of Maturi. They didn't believe him when he said he was going to get a "Tubby Smith hire," and it turns out he was right.
(Aside: People wanted Mike Leach. He was a loose cannon who's currently in the middle of suing Texas Tech and ESPN. I can understand if Maturi didn't want that drama spreading around Dinkytown.)
Saying all this, I have to give Kill a chance. He has cooridnators that have stuck by him for about a decade, and that provides stability that this program needs. If he can get the most out of the young men he recruits for the U., that'll be a very good start. Now let's see if he can do that.
#-6: Gopher women's hockey (Last Week: -1). A split decision at Bemidji St.? Are they even ranked?? If they're not, what is this team doing -- emulating the men's hockey team??? Who cares if they came back Saturday in a 6-2 win if they lost 2-0 the afternoon before???? Well, at least Kelly Terry was named WCHA Rookie Of The Week. Perfect timing. They finish their 2010 slate with two at home versus Ohio St. Will people come out to watch with this snowpacolypse coming?
#-7: Wild (Last Week: -5). Just noticed that all three teams the Wild faced this screening week were relocated teams. They beat the Bastard Winnipeg Jets, but lost to the Bastard Atlanta Flames and The Team That Was Stolen From Us. Last night's win at Phoenix broke a five-game losing streak; now, even in the NHL, does this team think that they can even make the playoff sporting a five-game losing streak? This week they finish their road trip at Los Angeles and Anaheim before coming back home to confront Ottawa.
#-8: Timberwolves (Last Week: -7). I wonder if there are more people watching this team after hearing about Kevin Love. I guess I can understand, but they should stay home because they're back to their losing ways. Well, they went 1-3 this week -- my bad. And that win was an absolute crusher: 129-95 over Cleveland? I guess this team might have some talent after all. Or, the Cavaliers are absolutely devastated about losing LeBron James.
And come to think of it, the Woofie Dogs were leading the three games they eventually lost. Head Coach Kurt Rambis continues to lament fourth-quarter collapses and the lack of a go-to guy on the team to help close out games. Can't that Love, or Michael Beasley? And will Jonny Flynn add or subtract from this team??
They have four games this week: Home tonight (Friday) against Detroit, then maybe they escape the snow to play at Chicago tomorrow (Saturday) night, then at Golden State and Phoenix.
#-9: Gopher men's hockey (Last Week: -4). A complete embarrassment. With the hiring of Kill, the men's hockey program replaces the football program as the worst on campus.
I mean, this team, the biggest school in the state, got swept at MSU-Mankato. They arguably are now level with the Mavericks, St. Cloud St., and Bemidji St. in stature. How in the hell does Don Lucia allow that to happen? And if he doesn't know, what will Maturi do about this (and he needs to do something about this)?
I left UMD out of this because, clearly, they are in another stratosphere compared to these Goofs. They're #1 in the country, have lapped the big school, and this week come calling to Mariucci for two. This could be not just a sweep, but an ass-kicking of biblical proportions.
#-Infinity: St. Thomas football (New!): Don't want to pick on a Division III school, even though this serves as a nice bookend for a WMNSS that may never see two small schools featured ever again.
I went to the quarterfinal playoff game between the Tommies and Bethel at O'Shaughnessy Stadium last Saturday afternoon. Standing next to the bleachers on the home side I realized: This is where my brother, a St. Thomas alum, graduated from. It's a beautiful stadium, nestled in the middle of a quaint St. Paul neighborhood. The visitor's side has no bleachers; it's a veranda, two sets of rails where all of us stood, in the wind and cold, abutting the rec center. I like small-division playoff football, not only because of this particular tableau, but because top-flight football could take a cue from how an actual postseason works.
Too bad that the team I was rooting for got upset at home. St. Thomas was undefeated until I saw them play impotently in a 12-7 defeat to fellow metro school Bethel. There were three things that defeated the Tommies, despite the fact that the Golden Bears (?) had no kicker and therefore went for two both times they scored touchdowns: The inability to stop the run (this Running Back for Bethel named Logan Flannery ran for 200 yards); bizarre playcalling on offense (behind in the second half and having incredible trouble moving down the field, the Tommies went pass-pass-run for some godforsaken reason); and stupid, stupid penalties. Bethel avenged the only loss they suffered all year, while the nationally-renowned Tommies were forced to put their tails between their legs and head for shelter while the Golden Bears (?) celebrated on their turf.
You know, I never went to this school, and the more I write about it, the more upset I get.
These streaks are tremendous: After they had their consecutive-matches streak ended earlier this year at 75, Concordia (St. Paul) have won 22 matches in a row. They have won 24 straight postseason matches in a row. The Tampa Spartans had leads late in the first and third sets, but the Golden Bears came back to win them. They closed out the title game on a 10-2 run, meaning they started out the fourth set leading 15-8. They lose only two seniors for next year's squad, and those two, Krista Erikson and Emily Palkert, leave school without losing a single tournament game. Simply awesome. Congratulations!!
#0: Gopher volleyball (Last Week: Positive Numbers). The big school in the state, quite frankly, has a lot to live up to the parochial college in the Capital City. But they are off to a good start, winning their first two tournament games at the Sports Pavilion over the weekend, against North Dakota St. and Creighton, in straight sets. I saw both matches, and while I wasn't too afraid of Creighton because of their scrappy but not-organized-enough play in their five-set victory over Iowa St., the Gophers, at least to me, had this propensity to lose focus at halftime and drop the third set. Stupid me: They didn't in either game.
So the Gophers are a part of the Sweet Sixteen for the eighth time in the last dozen years, and they have their last nine matches. They are now in Seattle to face Cal, the 7-seed to their 10-seed. Win that, and they face either Nebraska, the second seed in the NCAAs, or Washington, unseeded but playing as the host -- and in volleyball, homecourt advantage plays a big role. I saw it in my own eyes last year as the Gophers upset the third-seeded Florida St. Seminoles in the regional final at the Pav.
#-1: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -6). Encouraging to see that after their somewhat shameful loss to Virginia, the ballers won both of their games this week. And it's against deserving opponents -- home against Cornell, then at St. Joseph's. The victory over the Big Red was a close one, five points, so I guess grinding it out is going to have to be the way this squad wins games, a couple weeks after winning the Puerto Rico Tip-Off. The 15th-ranked team have two home games this week, Eastern Kentucky and Akron.
#-2: Vikings (Last Week: -3). The first complete ass-kicking of the season, 38-14 over permanently cursed Buffalo, in a season where I expected many of these. I don't know what this says about the team after the firing of Brad Childress because Buffalo is awful (even though I thought they'd cover). We'll see for sure whether they will now play for new coach Leslie Frazier when they host the New York Giants (the middle of a three-game homestand) this Sunday -- assuming that the players can get to the Dome and not get stuck under two feet of snow.
#-3: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -2). A 1-1 week. Several years ago, if this team travelled down to Baylor to face a Bears team ranked second or third in the nation, I would really look forward to it. Now, I expect complete prison sex. And I got it: A 103-56 immolation that probably sent this program back further next to the days of Cheryl Littlejohn.
However, they did come back to Williams and beat HBCU, 63-48, in a game described in the Star Tribune in such dour terms that it feels like a loss. Twenty-three turnovers? Glad this was a black college, because a reputable team would use that to beat this team. This week: Home to Cal Poly, then at Alabama A&M -- wow, another HBCU, and I'm afraid they're going to lose to that team.
#-4: Wrestling (Last Week: 0). J Robinson may have his best team in several years, so the third-ranked Gophs' match Sunday against Oklahoma St., ranked second, looked to both a barnburner and a barometer of whether Minnesota could reclaim the mantle as national champion contender.
They couldn't It was close, but apparently 165-pounder and closer Cody Yohn beat Cowboy Dallas Bailey only by a score of 6-4. Yohn needed to beat him by a greater margin to help the Gophers overcome Okie St., but instead they lost, 17-16. (I put this team below the Gopher women's basketball team because they had a very good chance to upset another contender and they had them at home.) he grapplers rebounded with a resounding victory at Nebraska, but so what?
OK, this is weird: They apparently play two round games on the same day, Saturday. Bakersfield and Fullerton are about 90 minutes away from each other, but is this quasi-barnstorming really smart?
#-5: Gopher football (Last Week: -Infinity). I was going to be OK with either Kevin Sumlin, Brady Hoke, or Troy Calhoun. But apparently, none of those mid-major coaches thought going to the U. would be a step up. And that may be the most bracing thing to deal with for both Minnesota Athletic Director Joel Maturi and Gopher fans.
Yeah, we have a brand-new stadium, and we are in the middle of a major metropolitan area. Maturi apparently thought that those were built-in advantages to entice someone to come and try and resuscitate the football program from the dead. But we Minnesotans weren't sold a bill of goods; I think we truly believed that those were built-in advantages, too.
But despite Maturi's bluster that he was going to get someone, he got, instead, Northern Illinois Head Coach Jerry Kill, a guy with no hair (I keep wanting to call him Jheri Curl) and weird teeth who's most known recently for getting upset by Miami (OH) for the Mid-American Conference Championship. I feel bad for Kill; he's starting behind the eight-ball, but it's not his fault. The fanbase don't have anything personal against him, but they despise this choice because it was the selection of Maturi. They didn't believe him when he said he was going to get a "Tubby Smith hire," and it turns out he was right.
(Aside: People wanted Mike Leach. He was a loose cannon who's currently in the middle of suing Texas Tech and ESPN. I can understand if Maturi didn't want that drama spreading around Dinkytown.)
Saying all this, I have to give Kill a chance. He has cooridnators that have stuck by him for about a decade, and that provides stability that this program needs. If he can get the most out of the young men he recruits for the U., that'll be a very good start. Now let's see if he can do that.
#-6: Gopher women's hockey (Last Week: -1). A split decision at Bemidji St.? Are they even ranked?? If they're not, what is this team doing -- emulating the men's hockey team??? Who cares if they came back Saturday in a 6-2 win if they lost 2-0 the afternoon before???? Well, at least Kelly Terry was named WCHA Rookie Of The Week. Perfect timing. They finish their 2010 slate with two at home versus Ohio St. Will people come out to watch with this snowpacolypse coming?
#-7: Wild (Last Week: -5). Just noticed that all three teams the Wild faced this screening week were relocated teams. They beat the Bastard Winnipeg Jets, but lost to the Bastard Atlanta Flames and The Team That Was Stolen From Us. Last night's win at Phoenix broke a five-game losing streak; now, even in the NHL, does this team think that they can even make the playoff sporting a five-game losing streak? This week they finish their road trip at Los Angeles and Anaheim before coming back home to confront Ottawa.
#-8: Timberwolves (Last Week: -7). I wonder if there are more people watching this team after hearing about Kevin Love. I guess I can understand, but they should stay home because they're back to their losing ways. Well, they went 1-3 this week -- my bad. And that win was an absolute crusher: 129-95 over Cleveland? I guess this team might have some talent after all. Or, the Cavaliers are absolutely devastated about losing LeBron James.
And come to think of it, the Woofie Dogs were leading the three games they eventually lost. Head Coach Kurt Rambis continues to lament fourth-quarter collapses and the lack of a go-to guy on the team to help close out games. Can't that Love, or Michael Beasley? And will Jonny Flynn add or subtract from this team??
They have four games this week: Home tonight (Friday) against Detroit, then maybe they escape the snow to play at Chicago tomorrow (Saturday) night, then at Golden State and Phoenix.
#-9: Gopher men's hockey (Last Week: -4). A complete embarrassment. With the hiring of Kill, the men's hockey program replaces the football program as the worst on campus.
I mean, this team, the biggest school in the state, got swept at MSU-Mankato. They arguably are now level with the Mavericks, St. Cloud St., and Bemidji St. in stature. How in the hell does Don Lucia allow that to happen? And if he doesn't know, what will Maturi do about this (and he needs to do something about this)?
I left UMD out of this because, clearly, they are in another stratosphere compared to these Goofs. They're #1 in the country, have lapped the big school, and this week come calling to Mariucci for two. This could be not just a sweep, but an ass-kicking of biblical proportions.
#-Infinity: St. Thomas football (New!): Don't want to pick on a Division III school, even though this serves as a nice bookend for a WMNSS that may never see two small schools featured ever again.
I went to the quarterfinal playoff game between the Tommies and Bethel at O'Shaughnessy Stadium last Saturday afternoon. Standing next to the bleachers on the home side I realized: This is where my brother, a St. Thomas alum, graduated from. It's a beautiful stadium, nestled in the middle of a quaint St. Paul neighborhood. The visitor's side has no bleachers; it's a veranda, two sets of rails where all of us stood, in the wind and cold, abutting the rec center. I like small-division playoff football, not only because of this particular tableau, but because top-flight football could take a cue from how an actual postseason works.
Too bad that the team I was rooting for got upset at home. St. Thomas was undefeated until I saw them play impotently in a 12-7 defeat to fellow metro school Bethel. There were three things that defeated the Tommies, despite the fact that the Golden Bears (?) had no kicker and therefore went for two both times they scored touchdowns: The inability to stop the run (this Running Back for Bethel named Logan Flannery ran for 200 yards); bizarre playcalling on offense (behind in the second half and having incredible trouble moving down the field, the Tommies went pass-pass-run for some godforsaken reason); and stupid, stupid penalties. Bethel avenged the only loss they suffered all year, while the nationally-renowned Tommies were forced to put their tails between their legs and head for shelter while the Golden Bears (?) celebrated on their turf.
You know, I never went to this school, and the more I write about it, the more upset I get.
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