So I was at Menards the other day. Father wanted me to get some batteries for him, but the particular pack (3) and kind (9V) weren't in stock.
I was told by the guy helping me -- everybody asks for help at a hardware store, am I right? -- that I needed to go to information and ask for a rain check. Actually, the rain check I got said "sorry slip."
Anyway, the person helping me was kind of in a tizzy doing things. She asked me what's up and I said I was there to pick up a rain check because the batteries I wanted to buy were sold out.
Paraphrasing her: "Where?"
Paraphrasing myself: "Over ... there." (waving hand wildly at some corner where I thought it was; actually it was just on the other side of the partition)
"Over where?"
"I don't exactly know where. Um, over there?"
"What department?"
And this is where I had little choice but to say something that intimated that I thought she was stupid: "Uh ... the battery department ... ?"
I knew that comment pissed her off. And I did care about upsetting this woman, because soon after my run-in I knew for sure -- I had a vague feeling during our "conversation" -- that this was the very nice worker who, about I think a year ago, took back a completely torn and wrecked piece of merchandise Father wanted me to return without a receipt. She deserved a little more slack from me because she didn't have to do that, but either because I didn't readily recognize her as helping me back then or because I was put off by her line of questioning, I chose the smartass route.
Maybe it was an issue of her figuring out exactly what was going on; she needed the SKU for the item I wanted to buy -- I handed the ad with the picture of the battery pack and the SKU, to which she curtly replied, "I don't need that" -- and finally got me the rain check/sorry slip. She asked me who told me to go to the front of the store; apparently, the guy who told me to do that was incorrect.
I guess I lost any favorable treatment I could have had with her. Sigh.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Goddamn I Lost My Camera ... Oh Wait, I Didn't
I lose things regularly -- or at least I think I do. I've lost many things both valuable and sentimental over the years, and it's one of the things I want to change about myself.
I always have passing thoughts of this whenever I bring something I usually don't bring. There is my wallet, my keys, and my phone -- the Holy Trinity Of Things I Always Make Sure I Have On Me When I Go Somewhere (besides the time I left my phone at my friend's house). Everything else I stop for a nanosecond and think, "Should I bring this? I could lose it and not get it back." It's a bad feeling that you have to stop yourself and your stride, but it's necessary after all the things I've lost along the way.
I had those words in my head when I bent down on my bedroom floor and picked up my camera when I was going out with my friends from Switzerland for a goodbye breakfast at IHOP. But I wanted to take one last snapshot at the table before they left. They did. Then I left, taking my hat, my phone, my wallet, my keys, and a to-go cup of coffee (I woke up super-early, like 9, to see them off) with me.
After IHOP we went to a Home Depot because they needed something. They needed something else, but I was kind of pressed for time, so I left them to go to "work" at the parking lot. I went home to change shoes, then go to the U. And it was just about getting to the lab where I thought, "Wait, did I grab my camera when we left breakfast? I don't know. ..."
This is where I usually feel this rippling wave of shock seize my body, and sweat starts gushing out of my pores. All this, and I'm running late for "work." Luckily, I remembered that I had the IHOP receipt, so I called the phone number on it as I was walking. Another prescient thing: They asked me for the table number, which is also on the receipt. But they said they found nothing. I felt a little peeved by what I perceived as their tone, but I know that I had no one to blame for misplacing my camera except myself. And I wasn't going to puss out on my two hours at the lab because I'm worried about where my camera could and could not be.
It's the anticipation that's the worst -- the minutes before you know you will find out, one way or the other, how a question will be answered. I was actually OK for the first hour of my hearing session, but when I looked forward to walking and/or running to my car to see if I somehow put and left it there, and then driving like a banshee back to IHOP if it wasn't, then remembering that I did stop by home and maybe I brought it back inside ... all the possibilities ... and then starting to emotionally prepare myself for the end, and the permanent loss of my camera ... well, the palpitations in my heart started to accelerate all through that hour.
I was six minutes late to "work." I usually try to make that up by staying late, but I didn't care this time and left a minute before the hour.
It was hot, and I was tired being up for five hours straight, so I walked unless I had to jog through an intersection. When I got to the car I went through my mental checklist of places where I placed my camera -- just under the driver's seat, where I put my day planner and program of the play we saw the day before? No. Just under the passenger seat, where I put a lot of my stuff over the course of a day? No. Is it in the glove compartment. And by Buddha, there was my camera case, stuffed into one corner, flattening the top edge of my travel document billfold.
The scary thing is, I don't remember putting it there. I really don't. Now, I had visions that I slipped it in there after we left IHOP, but I thought that was just me harkening back to when I know I did that last night on our way to the play, or just wishful thinking that helped my spirits before I face the awful truth. I seriously thought that when I got up off the table, I was carrying in my left hand my cup of coffee. I had my hat on, and my right hand was free to grab the car key from my pocket and open the door for me to slip in and start the car. That is totally what I thought I did from IHOP to Home Depot.
But, apparently, I automatically remembered that the camera was to the side against the wall, and I remembered to not only reach for the hat but the camera; automatic memory made me put the camera in a safe place.
Maybe I shouldn't doubt myself so much. Maybe I've progressed to the point where I now will remember things without actively needing to remember them. What could it be ... maturity?
I always have passing thoughts of this whenever I bring something I usually don't bring. There is my wallet, my keys, and my phone -- the Holy Trinity Of Things I Always Make Sure I Have On Me When I Go Somewhere (besides the time I left my phone at my friend's house). Everything else I stop for a nanosecond and think, "Should I bring this? I could lose it and not get it back." It's a bad feeling that you have to stop yourself and your stride, but it's necessary after all the things I've lost along the way.
I had those words in my head when I bent down on my bedroom floor and picked up my camera when I was going out with my friends from Switzerland for a goodbye breakfast at IHOP. But I wanted to take one last snapshot at the table before they left. They did. Then I left, taking my hat, my phone, my wallet, my keys, and a to-go cup of coffee (I woke up super-early, like 9, to see them off) with me.
After IHOP we went to a Home Depot because they needed something. They needed something else, but I was kind of pressed for time, so I left them to go to "work" at the parking lot. I went home to change shoes, then go to the U. And it was just about getting to the lab where I thought, "Wait, did I grab my camera when we left breakfast? I don't know. ..."
This is where I usually feel this rippling wave of shock seize my body, and sweat starts gushing out of my pores. All this, and I'm running late for "work." Luckily, I remembered that I had the IHOP receipt, so I called the phone number on it as I was walking. Another prescient thing: They asked me for the table number, which is also on the receipt. But they said they found nothing. I felt a little peeved by what I perceived as their tone, but I know that I had no one to blame for misplacing my camera except myself. And I wasn't going to puss out on my two hours at the lab because I'm worried about where my camera could and could not be.
It's the anticipation that's the worst -- the minutes before you know you will find out, one way or the other, how a question will be answered. I was actually OK for the first hour of my hearing session, but when I looked forward to walking and/or running to my car to see if I somehow put and left it there, and then driving like a banshee back to IHOP if it wasn't, then remembering that I did stop by home and maybe I brought it back inside ... all the possibilities ... and then starting to emotionally prepare myself for the end, and the permanent loss of my camera ... well, the palpitations in my heart started to accelerate all through that hour.
I was six minutes late to "work." I usually try to make that up by staying late, but I didn't care this time and left a minute before the hour.
It was hot, and I was tired being up for five hours straight, so I walked unless I had to jog through an intersection. When I got to the car I went through my mental checklist of places where I placed my camera -- just under the driver's seat, where I put my day planner and program of the play we saw the day before? No. Just under the passenger seat, where I put a lot of my stuff over the course of a day? No. Is it in the glove compartment. And by Buddha, there was my camera case, stuffed into one corner, flattening the top edge of my travel document billfold.
The scary thing is, I don't remember putting it there. I really don't. Now, I had visions that I slipped it in there after we left IHOP, but I thought that was just me harkening back to when I know I did that last night on our way to the play, or just wishful thinking that helped my spirits before I face the awful truth. I seriously thought that when I got up off the table, I was carrying in my left hand my cup of coffee. I had my hat on, and my right hand was free to grab the car key from my pocket and open the door for me to slip in and start the car. That is totally what I thought I did from IHOP to Home Depot.
But, apparently, I automatically remembered that the camera was to the side against the wall, and I remembered to not only reach for the hat but the camera; automatic memory made me put the camera in a safe place.
Maybe I shouldn't doubt myself so much. Maybe I've progressed to the point where I now will remember things without actively needing to remember them. What could it be ... maturity?
Monday, August 30, 2010
Ninety degrees at the warmest part of a day that has been the most humid we've had in a long time and you don't turn on the air-conditioning? I'll just assume you think it's windy enough to feel colder, Father, and it's not some passive-aggressive way of rebelling against my friends if you think they've overstayed their welcome.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Man, hosting people who are in town takes a lot of money! I don't really have the cash to spend. Unfortunately, because they're budgeting for a year-long trip around the U.S., neither do they. And yet because we are trying to see the best of the Twin Cities, we're pissing money out of our wallets left and right.
For both of our sakes, we've got to stop the vacation spending. I should pay for their tickets to the play I want to see tomorrow, and then breakfast Monday morning, and we'll be on our merry ways. Otherwise, we'll grow to resent each other and our profligate ways.
I feel better about hosting after today; when I woke up this morning I was talking to myself about how am I going to entertain these people. But you know, it was really, really nice, and the day went by smoothly. Now I just have to make sure I do it again without making us lose our shirts.
For both of our sakes, we've got to stop the vacation spending. I should pay for their tickets to the play I want to see tomorrow, and then breakfast Monday morning, and we'll be on our merry ways. Otherwise, we'll grow to resent each other and our profligate ways.
I feel better about hosting after today; when I woke up this morning I was talking to myself about how am I going to entertain these people. But you know, it was really, really nice, and the day went by smoothly. Now I just have to make sure I do it again without making us lose our shirts.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Trying To Be A Good Host
So my friends are here. Well, I know them through my sister and brother-in-law. I met them in Zurich last year, and they told me that they'd be roadtrippin' throughout the States this year. I didn't think they really would do it, but I'll be damned, they did.
They told me about a week ago that they're getting close, but I've been in a tizzy all day since they texted me that they'll be in town. How do you show two people you barely know around a city you barely know? We went out to the Taste of Minnesota, and they seemed to like it, but what about tomorrow? And what about Sunday? Will there be a Sunday itinerary, or will I send them on their way? And would it be rude by me to send them on their way? I don't know. Hosting's hard.
I'm not getting any help from my parents. Upon seeing them and the RV on the driveway, Mother called me twice to tell me to ask them if they wanted any pop and if they wanted to use our bathroom and shower. And My Fucking Father did the same thing tonight, except that he added the put-down, "You have to be nicer." Fuck you, you're the one who made their friend feel bad about himself, I'm not bringing them into the house so you can treat them like shit, you asshole. I'll host them the way I want to host them; you go lie down on your TV and watch Chinese movies until you pass out, like you do every day.
Next thing you know, he'll invite them in for dinner. Which, come to think of it, I'm afraid, isn't a bad idea.
Like I said, hosting's hard.
They told me about a week ago that they're getting close, but I've been in a tizzy all day since they texted me that they'll be in town. How do you show two people you barely know around a city you barely know? We went out to the Taste of Minnesota, and they seemed to like it, but what about tomorrow? And what about Sunday? Will there be a Sunday itinerary, or will I send them on their way? And would it be rude by me to send them on their way? I don't know. Hosting's hard.
I'm not getting any help from my parents. Upon seeing them and the RV on the driveway, Mother called me twice to tell me to ask them if they wanted any pop and if they wanted to use our bathroom and shower. And My Fucking Father did the same thing tonight, except that he added the put-down, "You have to be nicer." Fuck you, you're the one who made their friend feel bad about himself, I'm not bringing them into the house so you can treat them like shit, you asshole. I'll host them the way I want to host them; you go lie down on your TV and watch Chinese movies until you pass out, like you do every day.
Next thing you know, he'll invite them in for dinner. Which, come to think of it, I'm afraid, isn't a bad idea.
Like I said, hosting's hard.
Friday, August 27, 2010
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
-1: Twins (Last Week: -1). In a very underwhelming week for Minnesota sports, this is a case where the local baseball team is on top by default. A 6-4 victory pulled out by Francisco Liriano (against Cliff Lee, the number-one get by the Twinks before the trade deadline but scuffling right now) averted a four-game road sweep by the Bastard Washington Senators v.2.0. These Bastards (which the Minnesota Twins are really the Bastard Washington Senators v.1.0) have really beefed up their pitching. They kept the ball down in their three wins over the Twinkies. This isn't your had-no-other-choice-in-the-A.L. West team; these guys are good.
So are the Twins, but how good? They go berserk over teams they're much better than, and that's good; in fact, that's absolutely necessary if they want to be considered a good team. However, they lost four of six games versus the Yankees, lost five of eight versus the Tampa, and split with the Texas Rangers. It could be worse; the Twinks lost every single motherfucking game to the Yanks last season. But I was not pleased that this squad couldn't go into enemy territory and at least split a series with a team that's headed to the postseason, let alone win three or even all four games.
Well, at least they took two out of three at home last weekend against the Anaheim Angels Of Los Angeles Angels Of Anaheim Angels Of Los Angeles Angels Of Anaheim Angels. ... Right now they are 3 1/2 games ahead of Chicago in the A.L. Central, so this race is far from over. This week, they are in Seattle over the weekend, then three at home against Detroit.
-2: Vikings (Last Week: -3). I think it was Todd McShay in ESPN The Magazine that said that in today's NFL, a Super Bowl-winning team needs only four players: a quarterback; a blindside offensive lineman; a pass rusher; and a shutdown cornerback. Every other position can be filled adequately by people that can wait after you scout for elite men in the prime spots.
That sounds like a good plan, so I'm not too bent out of shape that the Vikes' receiving corps is going down in flames. Sidney Rice stupidly thought his hip could heal in the offseason without surgery, but he was wrong, and he'll be out for the first half of the season and maybe the whole season. And Percy Harvin is still suffering migraines. They've gotten desperate, signing Javon Walker and trading Benny Sapp to Miami for Greg Camarillo. Again, these guys could just be interchangeable parts as long as Brett Favre is under center. But it ain't great, either.
-Infinity (tie): Lynx and state Little League World Series baseball team (Last Week: -2, New!, respectively). Well, it was typical of the Jynx to essentially piss away their playoff chances by choking away yet another lead. In what may have been the most pivotal regular season game this franchise has played in recent memory, the team led the Los Angeles Farmers Insurance by 10 points midway through the third quarter, only to get blasted 34-22 in the fourth and lose Friday night. Even though they won their final game of the season at Indiana, depriving the Fever of a chance to win the Eastern Conference (they actually tumbled all the way down to third, thus stripping them of home-court advantage even for their first-round series against the New York Foxwoods), they were still the odd team out because, oddly enough, L.A.'s loss Saturday night to the Seattle Bing forced them into a two-way tie for the final playoff spot in the Western Conference, and L.A. gets in on the tie-breaker, which was head-to-head series. The Jinx were swept by the Farmers 4-0.
So, now what? Even though they lost a playoff spot due to a tie-breaker, they finished with the second-worst record in the WNBA, which means they should get yet another stud from the college ranks. But they already have five on the roster, and yet they've missed out on the playoffs for the sixth year in a row. The pressure is on Majority Owner Glen Taylor by his minority owners to just fold this team. And to be honest with you, six non-playoff seasons in a row is a good enough reason to extinguish the Lynx.
But I have to spread equal shame to the Plymouth-New Hope Little League team, only the sixth representive from the state of Minnesota to reach Williamsport ever. There are, like, a bajillion teams in Little League, so making it to the Little League World Series is a stunning achievement, it really is. And I don't want to impugn on the play of these young boys, I really don't.
However, dude, they crapped out at 0-3. They didn't win a single effin' game there. They even lost their consolation match against the metal group Rammstein ... no, wait, excuse me -- to kids from Ramstein Air Base. You couldn't even win one friggin' game? Way to represent 'Sota, boys.
So are the Twins, but how good? They go berserk over teams they're much better than, and that's good; in fact, that's absolutely necessary if they want to be considered a good team. However, they lost four of six games versus the Yankees, lost five of eight versus the Tampa, and split with the Texas Rangers. It could be worse; the Twinks lost every single motherfucking game to the Yanks last season. But I was not pleased that this squad couldn't go into enemy territory and at least split a series with a team that's headed to the postseason, let alone win three or even all four games.
Well, at least they took two out of three at home last weekend against the Anaheim Angels Of Los Angeles Angels Of Anaheim Angels Of Los Angeles Angels Of Anaheim Angels. ... Right now they are 3 1/2 games ahead of Chicago in the A.L. Central, so this race is far from over. This week, they are in Seattle over the weekend, then three at home against Detroit.
-2: Vikings (Last Week: -3). I think it was Todd McShay in ESPN The Magazine that said that in today's NFL, a Super Bowl-winning team needs only four players: a quarterback; a blindside offensive lineman; a pass rusher; and a shutdown cornerback. Every other position can be filled adequately by people that can wait after you scout for elite men in the prime spots.
That sounds like a good plan, so I'm not too bent out of shape that the Vikes' receiving corps is going down in flames. Sidney Rice stupidly thought his hip could heal in the offseason without surgery, but he was wrong, and he'll be out for the first half of the season and maybe the whole season. And Percy Harvin is still suffering migraines. They've gotten desperate, signing Javon Walker and trading Benny Sapp to Miami for Greg Camarillo. Again, these guys could just be interchangeable parts as long as Brett Favre is under center. But it ain't great, either.
-Infinity (tie): Lynx and state Little League World Series baseball team (Last Week: -2, New!, respectively). Well, it was typical of the Jynx to essentially piss away their playoff chances by choking away yet another lead. In what may have been the most pivotal regular season game this franchise has played in recent memory, the team led the Los Angeles Farmers Insurance by 10 points midway through the third quarter, only to get blasted 34-22 in the fourth and lose Friday night. Even though they won their final game of the season at Indiana, depriving the Fever of a chance to win the Eastern Conference (they actually tumbled all the way down to third, thus stripping them of home-court advantage even for their first-round series against the New York Foxwoods), they were still the odd team out because, oddly enough, L.A.'s loss Saturday night to the Seattle Bing forced them into a two-way tie for the final playoff spot in the Western Conference, and L.A. gets in on the tie-breaker, which was head-to-head series. The Jinx were swept by the Farmers 4-0.
So, now what? Even though they lost a playoff spot due to a tie-breaker, they finished with the second-worst record in the WNBA, which means they should get yet another stud from the college ranks. But they already have five on the roster, and yet they've missed out on the playoffs for the sixth year in a row. The pressure is on Majority Owner Glen Taylor by his minority owners to just fold this team. And to be honest with you, six non-playoff seasons in a row is a good enough reason to extinguish the Lynx.
But I have to spread equal shame to the Plymouth-New Hope Little League team, only the sixth representive from the state of Minnesota to reach Williamsport ever. There are, like, a bajillion teams in Little League, so making it to the Little League World Series is a stunning achievement, it really is. And I don't want to impugn on the play of these young boys, I really don't.
However, dude, they crapped out at 0-3. They didn't win a single effin' game there. They even lost their consolation match against the metal group Rammstein ... no, wait, excuse me -- to kids from Ramstein Air Base. You couldn't even win one friggin' game? Way to represent 'Sota, boys.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Adventures In Customer Service, Part II
So I went to Running Aces, the harness track up north, with a friend on Sunday. To look like I wasn't a total deadbeat all weekend, I mowed both lawns before I left. That made me so tired I barely remembered how I drove from my friend's place to the track. Scary shit, man.
In the program there is a matchplay coupon. It entitles me to use this coupon alongside an actual bet, and if I win, I get the winnings from what is essentially free money. So after I tried to take a nap to prevent what happened on the way to Running Aces to happen on my way from Running Aces and failed, I got in line at the information booth.
From what I can recollect because my head was still groggy and overheated from my sweaty time in my car, even with the windows rolled slightly down, there were two people sitting behind the counter. One of them was helping out the guy in front of me. The girl sitting next to her ... wasn't doing anything. She was looking at her co-worker, then looking around.
A woman hurriedly ran up behind me. She saw this employee not doing anything, so she yelled out to this her, "Excuse me, could you help this man, please?"
She had this surprised look on her face for a millisecond before she said to me, "How can I help you?" Being pulled into the middle of a rather nasty interaction between worker and customer, all I decided I could do was to not immediately go up to the worker, but twist my legs around, give this hollering woman a wry smile (she could take it any way she liked, I just wanted to let her know this was not my deal), then walk slowly towards the counter.
Look, I have been in a different frame of mind where I would go off when I want something now-now-now, and I see some idiot is loafing. It looks like she determined that this worker wasn't doing her job and that was going to end right now, goddammit. I can see that. But, I think I'll believe that she was just spacing out, trapped in a dead-end job she doesn't necessarily like. Or maybe she was tired and needed her brain to go dead for a second before raring to go and helping people again. Yeah, that makes more sense: The woman behind me was being a bitch.
So, anyway, when I come up to her I ask about this matchplay coupon. I was secretly hoping that this woman, who is kind of sexy, would prove my nascent optimism correct and that she really was a good co-worker. Uh, not exactly. She was fairly terse and quick to reach for the pen when I asked to cash in this coupon. More tellingly, I gave her my entire program with the coupon on the page, to which she replied, tersely, "You have to tear that out." I do. Well. ...
She didn't establish any eye contact with me as she started to write some shit down. I asked her where I could play this coupon thing, specifically could I use it to bet on the horses; "No," she replied, again curtly, "Just blackjack."
She was done with me once she gave me this redemption coupon that is the actual coupon I use to give to the 21 dealer. But the guy ahead of me was still talking to his employee. So that pushy bitch was still waiting. I didn't want a confrontation betweent these two women, so even though this customer service rep wasn't being all that hospitable, I kind of stalled. I looked around, sighed, tapped the coupon she gave me on the counter ... I did as much as I could until, finally, this guy walked away, and this woman who demanded service right now! went up to the other woman. I was free to walk away, relieved that I had kept the peace.
Look, she was probably unhappy that she had to deal with a part of a very embarrassing situation in public. I've been there, and I don't like it, even if the customer I was helping wasn't the source of my humiliation. I can see that. But I now think that this bitch was as bad and surly of a worker for Running Aces as the bitch standing behind me thought. Because she sucked. ... No, to be honest, I can see that as well.
I don't know. It was a lose-lose situation.
In the program there is a matchplay coupon. It entitles me to use this coupon alongside an actual bet, and if I win, I get the winnings from what is essentially free money. So after I tried to take a nap to prevent what happened on the way to Running Aces to happen on my way from Running Aces and failed, I got in line at the information booth.
From what I can recollect because my head was still groggy and overheated from my sweaty time in my car, even with the windows rolled slightly down, there were two people sitting behind the counter. One of them was helping out the guy in front of me. The girl sitting next to her ... wasn't doing anything. She was looking at her co-worker, then looking around.
A woman hurriedly ran up behind me. She saw this employee not doing anything, so she yelled out to this her, "Excuse me, could you help this man, please?"
She had this surprised look on her face for a millisecond before she said to me, "How can I help you?" Being pulled into the middle of a rather nasty interaction between worker and customer, all I decided I could do was to not immediately go up to the worker, but twist my legs around, give this hollering woman a wry smile (she could take it any way she liked, I just wanted to let her know this was not my deal), then walk slowly towards the counter.
Look, I have been in a different frame of mind where I would go off when I want something now-now-now, and I see some idiot is loafing. It looks like she determined that this worker wasn't doing her job and that was going to end right now, goddammit. I can see that. But, I think I'll believe that she was just spacing out, trapped in a dead-end job she doesn't necessarily like. Or maybe she was tired and needed her brain to go dead for a second before raring to go and helping people again. Yeah, that makes more sense: The woman behind me was being a bitch.
So, anyway, when I come up to her I ask about this matchplay coupon. I was secretly hoping that this woman, who is kind of sexy, would prove my nascent optimism correct and that she really was a good co-worker. Uh, not exactly. She was fairly terse and quick to reach for the pen when I asked to cash in this coupon. More tellingly, I gave her my entire program with the coupon on the page, to which she replied, tersely, "You have to tear that out." I do. Well. ...
She didn't establish any eye contact with me as she started to write some shit down. I asked her where I could play this coupon thing, specifically could I use it to bet on the horses; "No," she replied, again curtly, "Just blackjack."
She was done with me once she gave me this redemption coupon that is the actual coupon I use to give to the 21 dealer. But the guy ahead of me was still talking to his employee. So that pushy bitch was still waiting. I didn't want a confrontation betweent these two women, so even though this customer service rep wasn't being all that hospitable, I kind of stalled. I looked around, sighed, tapped the coupon she gave me on the counter ... I did as much as I could until, finally, this guy walked away, and this woman who demanded service right now! went up to the other woman. I was free to walk away, relieved that I had kept the peace.
Look, she was probably unhappy that she had to deal with a part of a very embarrassing situation in public. I've been there, and I don't like it, even if the customer I was helping wasn't the source of my humiliation. I can see that. But I now think that this bitch was as bad and surly of a worker for Running Aces as the bitch standing behind me thought. Because she sucked. ... No, to be honest, I can see that as well.
I don't know. It was a lose-lose situation.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Rejecting A Stripper's Offer
It's not what you think. It's not sex. It's a festival she's attending and probably is hosting, right in Powderhorn Park. Something like Burning Man -- that's the way she described it. And she gave me her number and told me it'd start at sundown. In other words, now.
Instead, I'm here on my parents' laptop, blogging my feelings about why I'm not attending this. I mean, this is a hot stripper (well, ex-stripper -- she decided to quit "The Life" to concentrate on her business, of which this festival is related to, I think), with big enhanced tits and a silky Southern accent. I should be setting aside my whole week for this. Hey, maybe she'll be impressed with my taking her up on her invitation and do sex to me next time!
Actually, I didn't think about this until I was woken up by my friend's text at 8 o'clock, telling me the time we're meeting for dinner tomorrow. That's when I remembered the thing.
And now I'm vacillating again. Should I go? Should I not go? It could be fun ... but is it going to be weird? ... you might like it ... it's not like it's a burlesque show that's you pay for attendance, so it's not anything I can relate to ... but it's free ... but it's far away, in South Minneapolis ... so you're going to stay home two consecutive days? ... well, there's dinner tomorrow, and then these guys I met in Switzerland are coming some time this weekend, and there's the Guthrie show I want to go to, and maybe I should conserve gas because hey, I'm unemployed ... you didn't stay home two consecutive days last week ... uh. ...
And that's where I'm stuck. I should be going. I. Should. Be. Going. But I can't. Finally, I'm making an excuse that I decided to write about my stasis instead of shaking myself free of it. Inertia -- that's why I'm not driving down to Powderhorn Park to see some gorgeous hippie ex-stripper and her potentially loose hippie friends do some fire dancing or burning this man, and possibly have some fun and maybe prove to some beautiful woman I'm fuckable.
I'm saving myself some money and keeping my carbon footprint low because I decided to sit on my ass, but I hate every single second of it.
I should be going.
Better text her and apologize for my no-show.
Instead, I'm here on my parents' laptop, blogging my feelings about why I'm not attending this. I mean, this is a hot stripper (well, ex-stripper -- she decided to quit "The Life" to concentrate on her business, of which this festival is related to, I think), with big enhanced tits and a silky Southern accent. I should be setting aside my whole week for this. Hey, maybe she'll be impressed with my taking her up on her invitation and do sex to me next time!
Actually, I didn't think about this until I was woken up by my friend's text at 8 o'clock, telling me the time we're meeting for dinner tomorrow. That's when I remembered the thing.
And now I'm vacillating again. Should I go? Should I not go? It could be fun ... but is it going to be weird? ... you might like it ... it's not like it's a burlesque show that's you pay for attendance, so it's not anything I can relate to ... but it's free ... but it's far away, in South Minneapolis ... so you're going to stay home two consecutive days? ... well, there's dinner tomorrow, and then these guys I met in Switzerland are coming some time this weekend, and there's the Guthrie show I want to go to, and maybe I should conserve gas because hey, I'm unemployed ... you didn't stay home two consecutive days last week ... uh. ...
And that's where I'm stuck. I should be going. I. Should. Be. Going. But I can't. Finally, I'm making an excuse that I decided to write about my stasis instead of shaking myself free of it. Inertia -- that's why I'm not driving down to Powderhorn Park to see some gorgeous hippie ex-stripper and her potentially loose hippie friends do some fire dancing or burning this man, and possibly have some fun and maybe prove to some beautiful woman I'm fuckable.
I'm saving myself some money and keeping my carbon footprint low because I decided to sit on my ass, but I hate every single second of it.
I should be going.
Better text her and apologize for my no-show.
Adventures In Customer Service, Part I
This harkens back to the day Mother and I went to Sears and I saw that Brookdale closed for good.
I was kind of tired; I bought shorts (OK, Mother bought them for me) when I didn't even plan on buying anything that afternoon. I just wanted to go home.
Exacerbating that is that there were a lot of people there buying stuff because, well, either because there was a sale going on or it was Sears.
Anyway, there was a line, kind of, for checkout. It was more like a collection of people just hanging out till one of the cash registers opened. And that's the trouble. There was no organization, no ropes to cordon off areas around this square of four registers, no direction that says, "If you want to check out, line up here."
So my frustration began with this lady who asked me if I was waiting in line. I said yes -- actually, I don't remember what I said, I was really tired at this point just standing around. But the next cash register to open was the one behind the one I was waiting in front of. Even though many of us were being civilized and waiting where we all subconsiously decided we should wait, the woman who asked me her question, who was just milling about after I told her yes, was there when that register opened and therefore cut in line. Bitch.
I noticed that a lot of these checkout ladies were taking their time. I don't mind workers enjoying while they work, but when they start making small talk with not only the people they're dealing with but also people who are not checking items out, like the one woman who helped the cunt who cut in front of me, especially when things are busy and there's a line of people waiting, that's when I began to get pissed inside. But I didn't want to lose it. I didn't care about losing it in front of strangers in public; I should do that more often. But I didn't want to blow my top in front of Mother, especially when she's been nice and when she's offered to buy me these shorts.
So I waited until the cash register in front of us opened up. I was finally able to envision going into my bedroom, taking off all my clothes, throwing myself onto my bed and passing out for days. But the checkout girl had other plans.
Did you know that the Sears in Brookdale pays on commission? It has to be, because as soon as we laid our stuff down, this girl was doing everything except checking our stuff out and sending us out the door. She started with, "Do you have your Sears card with you?" After Mother said she forgot it, she asked, "I can look it up for you ... say, you can sign up for a Sears card and you can immediately knock off 15 bucks from the stuff you're buying now."
Wait, I said, as I said to the checkout lady. I was smelling her trying to pull a fast one on Mother, and I had to step in. I barely even remember what I said, I just know that something smelled with her sales pitch. "She already has a Sears card, and you say she can get another Sears card."
"It's a different card. Do you want to sign up?"
I was rapidly regressing to five-year-old mode, and I just looked at Mother as if I just wanted to go home. She has loads of credit cards, so what the fuck was one more, I guess is what she thought. So we did to the very nice people behind what I thought many of the people in front of us were doing to us: We were taking up precious time over bullshit that didn't matter. Mother later said she doesn't plan on using the credit card ever again, she just wanted to fill out the paperwork to get the discount.
It took that fuckin' lady five to ten minutes to look at Mother's information, "process" it on the cash register (can cash registers do that these days?), then proceed to tell me more information in an effort to sell something. At this point she actually took time out to ask if she was pronouncing Mother's name correctly. Who the fuck cares? Are you going to take her money or are you selling us a fucking car?? I might have been too exhausted to care, but there had to be an interminable line of people waiting behind us, and she's over here kibbitzin' with my mom on a first-name basis, like they're friends who haven't seen each other in a long time.
I should stop myself. The girl behind the counter was being nice. Maybe I wouldn't have thought this way if I weren't so doggone tired. But it was very, very clear that this girl was on the make, and on this afternoon, I just didn't want to deal with it. Again, though, I was with Mother, and she was driving this train, and she wanted that discount.
I had to step in. "You're close enough," I told her regarding pronouncing Mother's name. Maybe she really wanted to know, or maybe she was making small talk -- you're working, goddammit, what's a matter with you??? -- she asked me, "How do you pronounce it?"
"Mother," I replied. I was trying to be somewhat humorous, but I said it with a fully level mouth, so I hope she got the message that I didn't give a fuck, now let's do this so we can get the hell out of here.
But then she keeps talking more and more and piling more and more shit on us. Finally, we get the receipt and the stuff in the bag when she throws one more fucking flier in our face, namely denoting the sale going on ... tomorrow evening. "Why did we buy this stuff now?" Mother asked. All that shit, for nothing.
I should bitch about this on Twitter.
I was kind of tired; I bought shorts (OK, Mother bought them for me) when I didn't even plan on buying anything that afternoon. I just wanted to go home.
Exacerbating that is that there were a lot of people there buying stuff because, well, either because there was a sale going on or it was Sears.
Anyway, there was a line, kind of, for checkout. It was more like a collection of people just hanging out till one of the cash registers opened. And that's the trouble. There was no organization, no ropes to cordon off areas around this square of four registers, no direction that says, "If you want to check out, line up here."
So my frustration began with this lady who asked me if I was waiting in line. I said yes -- actually, I don't remember what I said, I was really tired at this point just standing around. But the next cash register to open was the one behind the one I was waiting in front of. Even though many of us were being civilized and waiting where we all subconsiously decided we should wait, the woman who asked me her question, who was just milling about after I told her yes, was there when that register opened and therefore cut in line. Bitch.
I noticed that a lot of these checkout ladies were taking their time. I don't mind workers enjoying while they work, but when they start making small talk with not only the people they're dealing with but also people who are not checking items out, like the one woman who helped the cunt who cut in front of me, especially when things are busy and there's a line of people waiting, that's when I began to get pissed inside. But I didn't want to lose it. I didn't care about losing it in front of strangers in public; I should do that more often. But I didn't want to blow my top in front of Mother, especially when she's been nice and when she's offered to buy me these shorts.
So I waited until the cash register in front of us opened up. I was finally able to envision going into my bedroom, taking off all my clothes, throwing myself onto my bed and passing out for days. But the checkout girl had other plans.
Did you know that the Sears in Brookdale pays on commission? It has to be, because as soon as we laid our stuff down, this girl was doing everything except checking our stuff out and sending us out the door. She started with, "Do you have your Sears card with you?" After Mother said she forgot it, she asked, "I can look it up for you ... say, you can sign up for a Sears card and you can immediately knock off 15 bucks from the stuff you're buying now."
Wait, I said, as I said to the checkout lady. I was smelling her trying to pull a fast one on Mother, and I had to step in. I barely even remember what I said, I just know that something smelled with her sales pitch. "She already has a Sears card, and you say she can get another Sears card."
"It's a different card. Do you want to sign up?"
I was rapidly regressing to five-year-old mode, and I just looked at Mother as if I just wanted to go home. She has loads of credit cards, so what the fuck was one more, I guess is what she thought. So we did to the very nice people behind what I thought many of the people in front of us were doing to us: We were taking up precious time over bullshit that didn't matter. Mother later said she doesn't plan on using the credit card ever again, she just wanted to fill out the paperwork to get the discount.
It took that fuckin' lady five to ten minutes to look at Mother's information, "process" it on the cash register (can cash registers do that these days?), then proceed to tell me more information in an effort to sell something. At this point she actually took time out to ask if she was pronouncing Mother's name correctly. Who the fuck cares? Are you going to take her money or are you selling us a fucking car?? I might have been too exhausted to care, but there had to be an interminable line of people waiting behind us, and she's over here kibbitzin' with my mom on a first-name basis, like they're friends who haven't seen each other in a long time.
I should stop myself. The girl behind the counter was being nice. Maybe I wouldn't have thought this way if I weren't so doggone tired. But it was very, very clear that this girl was on the make, and on this afternoon, I just didn't want to deal with it. Again, though, I was with Mother, and she was driving this train, and she wanted that discount.
I had to step in. "You're close enough," I told her regarding pronouncing Mother's name. Maybe she really wanted to know, or maybe she was making small talk -- you're working, goddammit, what's a matter with you??? -- she asked me, "How do you pronounce it?"
"Mother," I replied. I was trying to be somewhat humorous, but I said it with a fully level mouth, so I hope she got the message that I didn't give a fuck, now let's do this so we can get the hell out of here.
But then she keeps talking more and more and piling more and more shit on us. Finally, we get the receipt and the stuff in the bag when she throws one more fucking flier in our face, namely denoting the sale going on ... tomorrow evening. "Why did we buy this stuff now?" Mother asked. All that shit, for nothing.
I should bitch about this on Twitter.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Another Death Of Another Mouse
Just now I was putting in a bag of fertilizer I just bought in the backdoor shed. There was a gluetrap Father asked me to put in a corner. There was a mouse in the gluetrap. Probably scurried in there to escape the rain overnight and met its death.
Except it wasn't dead. Either because of the sudden penetration of the sun or the commotion I caused when opening the door, the mouse suddenly began to move his arms around. It was useless, of course, and I saw him struggle for life ... "Please, help me ..." ... for only a second before I couldn't bear it.
Before shutting the door I thought about throwing some food next to him, something like some grass or something. But I didn't want to get my hands dirty pulling something out of the ground for him, and maybe Father will get mad if he sees the gluetrap with some grass next to it and deduce I was trying to keep the poor rat alive. No, it was futile. And I shut the door.
My God, I just realized -- if he came in overnight, and he's struggling even till now ... my God, he's been alive all this time??
Except it wasn't dead. Either because of the sudden penetration of the sun or the commotion I caused when opening the door, the mouse suddenly began to move his arms around. It was useless, of course, and I saw him struggle for life ... "Please, help me ..." ... for only a second before I couldn't bear it.
Before shutting the door I thought about throwing some food next to him, something like some grass or something. But I didn't want to get my hands dirty pulling something out of the ground for him, and maybe Father will get mad if he sees the gluetrap with some grass next to it and deduce I was trying to keep the poor rat alive. No, it was futile. And I shut the door.
My God, I just realized -- if he came in overnight, and he's struggling even till now ... my God, he's been alive all this time??
Home Invasion By Our Neighbors
I was going to the gym to work out this evening, and I see one of the daughters from the house next door walk across our driveway on her way down the street. Like it was nothing. I was right there, watching her invade our private property, and she was walking through like it was her own damn driveway.
I've seen the neighbors to the right of us do this several times. Now, I've spoken to the head of the household and he seems fine. He even works nights -- a soul brother, in a way. He has kids, all of them daughters, I believe, some of them nice jailbait material. This one (assuming she was one of his daughers) was not.
Maybe that's why I'm annoyed by what happened tonight; if it were one of the hot ones, I'd be OK with it because I'd go, "Well, at least she's hot, I'll let it slide." Still, she acted as if walking through our driveway wasn't a big deal. No, it's not, but what would happen if I cut across your lawn if it were the shorter way to get where I wanted to go?
This could get worse. If these damn kids continue to do this, I might get pissed. And I could easily envision a scenario where one of them is biking across the end of our driveway just as I'm backing up. I'd feel terrible at what could happen, but who's damn fault would that be?
Is it too much friggin' trouble to go down to their end of the driveway and then walk past ours? Sheesh.
I've seen the neighbors to the right of us do this several times. Now, I've spoken to the head of the household and he seems fine. He even works nights -- a soul brother, in a way. He has kids, all of them daughters, I believe, some of them nice jailbait material. This one (assuming she was one of his daughers) was not.
Maybe that's why I'm annoyed by what happened tonight; if it were one of the hot ones, I'd be OK with it because I'd go, "Well, at least she's hot, I'll let it slide." Still, she acted as if walking through our driveway wasn't a big deal. No, it's not, but what would happen if I cut across your lawn if it were the shorter way to get where I wanted to go?
This could get worse. If these damn kids continue to do this, I might get pissed. And I could easily envision a scenario where one of them is biking across the end of our driveway just as I'm backing up. I'd feel terrible at what could happen, but who's damn fault would that be?
Is it too much friggin' trouble to go down to their end of the driveway and then walk past ours? Sheesh.
Monday, August 23, 2010
You know, all I wanted to do yesterday was mow the lawn. And I was done, and I was closing the side door, and the fucking thing pulled itself from the hinges and fell. Great.
I thought I had to stay and help My Father fix it, which meant that I would've had to cancel my horse racing trip with my friend, but My Fucking Father was too damn lazy to do it then. Instead, he was in scary-quiet, inquisitive, judging mode, asking me if I was going to go back to school or not. Fucking scary.
And the bad thing about not fixing the door that afternoon was he'd probably do it the next morning -- this morning. I had a long day in the sun at the horsetrack, so I was tired. Plus, I forgot my laptop in the trunk of my car. Seeing that as a sign, I thought it best to just go to sleep early, which I did around 1.
When I woke up just before 10, I didn't hear any banging on the door, no yelling from outside from My Fucking Father. He's not here to fix the door. He's not here, period. Where the fuck is he? And if he's not here, what did I go to sleep early for?
I thought I had to stay and help My Father fix it, which meant that I would've had to cancel my horse racing trip with my friend, but My Fucking Father was too damn lazy to do it then. Instead, he was in scary-quiet, inquisitive, judging mode, asking me if I was going to go back to school or not. Fucking scary.
And the bad thing about not fixing the door that afternoon was he'd probably do it the next morning -- this morning. I had a long day in the sun at the horsetrack, so I was tired. Plus, I forgot my laptop in the trunk of my car. Seeing that as a sign, I thought it best to just go to sleep early, which I did around 1.
When I woke up just before 10, I didn't hear any banging on the door, no yelling from outside from My Fucking Father. He's not here to fix the door. He's not here, period. Where the fuck is he? And if he's not here, what did I go to sleep early for?
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Sorry, Father, I Didn't Follow Your Instructions ... Again ...
The reason things go in one ear and out the other, Father, is that you never seem to listen to my requests and, more importantly, my needs. So that's the explanation for not completely editing your complaint letter to your specificities. I mean, you were nice about it, you really were. But a part of me thinks this complaint letter, which you specifically said was to complain for its own sake, is bullshit. And another part of me still is angry over the way you've raised me. And a part of me was just flat-out tired.
Yes, you had two requests. And I only fulfilled one of them, namely changing all the pronouns in the first person plural to the first person singular so that you would be the only voice complaining. I'm sorry I didn't do the second request, which was eliminating the last, "Please contact me as soon as possible" cordial paragraph. I screwed up, OK?
Looks like you sent it anyway. No big whoop either way -- like you said, it's just a complaint letter.
Yes, you had two requests. And I only fulfilled one of them, namely changing all the pronouns in the first person plural to the first person singular so that you would be the only voice complaining. I'm sorry I didn't do the second request, which was eliminating the last, "Please contact me as soon as possible" cordial paragraph. I screwed up, OK?
Looks like you sent it anyway. No big whoop either way -- like you said, it's just a complaint letter.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
OK, you don't have to say that I didn't tell you to sew up that pocket, even though there's a sizable hole there and it's close to the pocket you told me you were going to replace for me. Your tone sucks, and even if you're right, you don't have to shove it in my face.
Maybe I should go somewhere else once I know I need this hole covered up.
Ah, shit, I can't, these people charge too cheaply.
Maybe I should go somewhere else once I know I need this hole covered up.
Ah, shit, I can't, these people charge too cheaply.
Friday, August 20, 2010
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -1). Until last (Thursday) night's 11-0 turd of a loss to Chicago they had won six in a row. Nevertheless, the Twinkies had a 5-1 week and breathed their lead in the A.L. Central over the White Sox to four games. This could be the first time since 2006(?) where any team, not just the Twinks, win the division going away.
Then again, I now have doubts about Carl Pavano; he was the losing pitcher in last (Thursday) night's game. You're allowed to have a dud of a game, but getting shellacked like that gives me pause. Also, Matt Capps is no longer inspiring confidence in me. He has blown two save chances in the 11 games he's appeared in wearing a Twins uniform -- not terrible, but far from the automatic, Joe Nathan-expect-when-he's-pitching-against-the-Yankees performance people were making him out to have on a regular basis. Good thing the offense seems to be hitting high gear. This week, they host Torii Hunter and the Los Angeles Angels Of Anaheim Angels Of Los Angeles Angels Of Anaheim Angels Of ..., then go to Arlington and play a very intriguing four-game intraleague series against The Bastard Washington Senators v.2.0, aka The Texas Rangers.
#-2: Lynx (Last Week: -2). Well, you can't have a more nail-biting finish to the regular season than the one you have in the Western Conference of the WNBA this year. A 1-2 week keeps them in a three-way tie with Los Angeles and San Antonio for the final two spots in the playoffs still up for grabs.
I was at their only win this week, which was their only home game this week, against the Silver Stars, and I finally saw periods of not just competence, but of good play. The Jynx lost the lead some time in the third quarter, but for the first time in a long time I saw this squad stiffen their spines and come back, and in fact they won going away, 84-78. What a way to end the home portion of their regular season schedule.
Unfortunately, they lost their other two games. They are close, which is a far cry from the blowouts before this month, but still, a three-point loss at Washington last Friday, then a 4-point loss to Seattle Tuesday (they have always been competitive against the Bing, for some reason) put them at 12-20; a tie-breaker would leave the Jinx as the odd team out.
Let us look forward to this weekend, which ends the regular season. The Sparks visit Seattle Saturday night to close out their season; the Silver Stars host co-Eastern Conference leaders Indiana tonight, then host Phoenix in their season-ender Sunday. Quite loseable games for the teams the Lynx are fighting with for those spots ... which makes tonight's (Friday night's) game at ... the Los Angeles Farmers Insurance the most important game of the year. Win that and they may have the step up they need to make the playoffs for the first time in a half-decade, especially since they close out their season at Indiana Sunday, and since the Fever are fighting New York for the top spot in the Eastern Conference, the Jynx are losing that. It is a tall order, but I still have to hope.
Oh yeah, the team just signed Center Jessica Adair for their season-ending three-game road trip. She was signed because the team suspended C Nicky Anosike for refusing to go on the plane. It seems like Anosike is being insubordinate because she's lost playing time, but there are some rumors her swollen hasn't healed as much as it should. This distraction is not good, especially at this time. I kind of want to see if the team just plays while putting this suspension out of their minds, or if there's enough of a mutiny that they'll refuse to play because of Anosike.
#-3: Vikings (Re-Entry!). Yeah, yeah, yeah, he's back. What the fuck ever. Just fucking win the Super Bowl, OK?
Then again, I now have doubts about Carl Pavano; he was the losing pitcher in last (Thursday) night's game. You're allowed to have a dud of a game, but getting shellacked like that gives me pause. Also, Matt Capps is no longer inspiring confidence in me. He has blown two save chances in the 11 games he's appeared in wearing a Twins uniform -- not terrible, but far from the automatic, Joe Nathan-expect-when-he's-pitching-against-the-Yankees performance people were making him out to have on a regular basis. Good thing the offense seems to be hitting high gear. This week, they host Torii Hunter and the Los Angeles Angels Of Anaheim Angels Of Los Angeles Angels Of Anaheim Angels Of ..., then go to Arlington and play a very intriguing four-game intraleague series against The Bastard Washington Senators v.2.0, aka The Texas Rangers.
#-2: Lynx (Last Week: -2). Well, you can't have a more nail-biting finish to the regular season than the one you have in the Western Conference of the WNBA this year. A 1-2 week keeps them in a three-way tie with Los Angeles and San Antonio for the final two spots in the playoffs still up for grabs.
I was at their only win this week, which was their only home game this week, against the Silver Stars, and I finally saw periods of not just competence, but of good play. The Jynx lost the lead some time in the third quarter, but for the first time in a long time I saw this squad stiffen their spines and come back, and in fact they won going away, 84-78. What a way to end the home portion of their regular season schedule.
Unfortunately, they lost their other two games. They are close, which is a far cry from the blowouts before this month, but still, a three-point loss at Washington last Friday, then a 4-point loss to Seattle Tuesday (they have always been competitive against the Bing, for some reason) put them at 12-20; a tie-breaker would leave the Jinx as the odd team out.
Let us look forward to this weekend, which ends the regular season. The Sparks visit Seattle Saturday night to close out their season; the Silver Stars host co-Eastern Conference leaders Indiana tonight, then host Phoenix in their season-ender Sunday. Quite loseable games for the teams the Lynx are fighting with for those spots ... which makes tonight's (Friday night's) game at ... the Los Angeles Farmers Insurance the most important game of the year. Win that and they may have the step up they need to make the playoffs for the first time in a half-decade, especially since they close out their season at Indiana Sunday, and since the Fever are fighting New York for the top spot in the Eastern Conference, the Jynx are losing that. It is a tall order, but I still have to hope.
Oh yeah, the team just signed Center Jessica Adair for their season-ending three-game road trip. She was signed because the team suspended C Nicky Anosike for refusing to go on the plane. It seems like Anosike is being insubordinate because she's lost playing time, but there are some rumors her swollen hasn't healed as much as it should. This distraction is not good, especially at this time. I kind of want to see if the team just plays while putting this suspension out of their minds, or if there's enough of a mutiny that they'll refuse to play because of Anosike.
#-3: Vikings (Re-Entry!). Yeah, yeah, yeah, he's back. What the fuck ever. Just fucking win the Super Bowl, OK?
Alright, Father, I'm sorry for locking the door to the minivan after you told me not to. I thought I hit the unlock button the key three times, but I guess I didn't. I didn't mean to, OK? Don't go flying off the fucking handle like it's end of the goddamn world. Asshole. You just had to go back to acting like a bitch so soon after your motherfucking vacation, huh?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Drove Almost 125 Miles, Most Of It For No Good Goddamn Reason
Sometimes I like driving. You don't go somewhere so much as space out as you get lost. Driving for its own pleasure is relaxing and helps clear your mind.
And sometimes it's tolerable. A commute is a commute, and when you get lost, you (or at least I do) take a look on the bright side and note what you explore. Like, "I didn't know this road led back to home," for example.
Yesterday, I'm afraid, wasn't either of those. It was infuriating. It's hypocritical of me to worry about wasting gas and spending money and putting a huge carbon footprint on a night where I was meandering around, but that's how I feel when I drove a lot longer than I should have.
Two reasons for this, and how it pertained to my yesterday and last night.
The first reason is construction season. They say that that and winter are the only two seasons in Minnesota. I have nonetheless been lucky because most of it has been in other parts of the metro area. This week, however, the construction virus has spread our way. Specifically, the on- and off-ramps I use the most, from 694 West to 94 East, are closed, and I don't know for how long. I forgot that going to my parents' store and coming back home, and the detours were such a pain in the ass, especially with so many people needing to wind through the same roads as I did. I was an hour late getting home so I could take my Grandmother grocery shopping. Usually I'm not that bent out of shape, but I was because of the construction.
Last night I took my friend to the Megamall to see a free movie. To avoid the construction and traffic that may or may not be there, we took a very long way down to get there. And because I didn't know if the cones would be up (there's another construction site where they're taking down bridges overnight, and it could've started as soon as 10, about the time we were driving home and the same time I was going through there [and getting stuck] driving to the airport to pick up Father), I decided to avoid it altogether. As we drove past around the area, the traffic was not so bad. I estimate that I drove about 40% more miles than I would have needed to because of the construction and my over-cautiousness.
The second reason is I got lost. Again, getting lost could be fun ... if you intend to just get lost. But I intended to get home, and I totally spaced out when I was going home my usual route right toward the closed ramp. I forgot that I planned on taking side streets home, so I went off the first exit I could find and see if I could find may way to that side street.
I couldn't. What I wanted to do was cut across and hit the side street at an intersection much closer to the house. But I couldn't because around this area was a huge industrial site; there were no streets, period. So I would up going all the way back to the exit I should have taken in the first place. I should have just taken this exit and turned around. Fuck, I could've gone all the way to the closed ramp, taken the detour they laid out, and still gotten back home much earlier than I did. Instead, I wanted to avoid the whole damn area, even though it might not have been bad at 10 at night, and wound up taking twice as much time getting home ... with several more miles on the odometer which I didn't need to drive.
I should stay home more, at least to make up for last night. But I know I won't.
And sometimes it's tolerable. A commute is a commute, and when you get lost, you (or at least I do) take a look on the bright side and note what you explore. Like, "I didn't know this road led back to home," for example.
Yesterday, I'm afraid, wasn't either of those. It was infuriating. It's hypocritical of me to worry about wasting gas and spending money and putting a huge carbon footprint on a night where I was meandering around, but that's how I feel when I drove a lot longer than I should have.
Two reasons for this, and how it pertained to my yesterday and last night.
The first reason is construction season. They say that that and winter are the only two seasons in Minnesota. I have nonetheless been lucky because most of it has been in other parts of the metro area. This week, however, the construction virus has spread our way. Specifically, the on- and off-ramps I use the most, from 694 West to 94 East, are closed, and I don't know for how long. I forgot that going to my parents' store and coming back home, and the detours were such a pain in the ass, especially with so many people needing to wind through the same roads as I did. I was an hour late getting home so I could take my Grandmother grocery shopping. Usually I'm not that bent out of shape, but I was because of the construction.
Last night I took my friend to the Megamall to see a free movie. To avoid the construction and traffic that may or may not be there, we took a very long way down to get there. And because I didn't know if the cones would be up (there's another construction site where they're taking down bridges overnight, and it could've started as soon as 10, about the time we were driving home and the same time I was going through there [and getting stuck] driving to the airport to pick up Father), I decided to avoid it altogether. As we drove past around the area, the traffic was not so bad. I estimate that I drove about 40% more miles than I would have needed to because of the construction and my over-cautiousness.
The second reason is I got lost. Again, getting lost could be fun ... if you intend to just get lost. But I intended to get home, and I totally spaced out when I was going home my usual route right toward the closed ramp. I forgot that I planned on taking side streets home, so I went off the first exit I could find and see if I could find may way to that side street.
I couldn't. What I wanted to do was cut across and hit the side street at an intersection much closer to the house. But I couldn't because around this area was a huge industrial site; there were no streets, period. So I would up going all the way back to the exit I should have taken in the first place. I should have just taken this exit and turned around. Fuck, I could've gone all the way to the closed ramp, taken the detour they laid out, and still gotten back home much earlier than I did. Instead, I wanted to avoid the whole damn area, even though it might not have been bad at 10 at night, and wound up taking twice as much time getting home ... with several more miles on the odometer which I didn't need to drive.
I should stay home more, at least to make up for last night. But I know I won't.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Father's Home -- Yay?
The mood at home is night-and-day when Father's away. I can breathe easier at home. My heart beats a little lighter at home because Mother usually doesn't give a shit. It's been that way the past four days. It may have helped that his vacation coincided with the break in the weather; while it was humid when he left, it's been mighty comfortable -- perfect late-summer weather -- since being gone.
Tonight I hunkered down for his return. Actually, I thought I was going to enjoy one last supper in peace with Mother, but she was kind of a bitch tonight, yelling at me while she was fluttering about making this huge dinner only three of us would eat. Whatever. Father called around this time; he excitedly talked to me about buying this condo, but I acted distracted, as if I was doing something else at the time, because if I had let him know I was in good spirits, he'd find a way to shut me down.
Expectations seemed pretty low when I realized that there was some traffic on the way down to the airport; for some reason there was construction going on in an area connecting Minneapolis and St. Paul, and for some reason there were a lot of people going through this area at 10:30 at night. It took about 25 minutes to get through that fuckin' area, so I was 15 minutes away from the airport when he called.
Thankfully this time he was patient about it and didn't make a fuss when I finally got to the airport. To "make up" for my cold reception to him over the phone and for being late, I engaged him on conversation about the new condo. He seemed excited -- genuinely excited. Unfortunately, he also told me he was disatisfied with his old one, and in fact needed my help in figuring out how to tell these guys he no longer wanted to close on it. So instead of cleaning up my room or mowing the lawn, that's the shit I need to do.
He got kind of obsessed about why he no longer wanted this particular condo as we got him, and then when he got something to eat. Meanwhile, the food stuck between my teeth were really bothering me, so slipped into the bathroom to floss. That's when I heard from outside My Father calling me.
I come out in case something hinky might be going on, and sadly, there was: Father heard and walked back toward me from my hallway and through the dining room. He thought I was in my room, therefore he walked down the hallway to talk to me about something.
And now my paranoid meter starts pinging off the hook. Did he not see that there were no lights on? And, by God, did he manage to open the door? Did he hit his head on the door because there was a huge bag containing my comforter right behind it? Did he see the stack of clothes I've yet to put away? How about the myriad bags of papers I still have, or the papers strewn around the floor? Did his mood immediately darken because I haven't cleaned up my room? Well, fuck him!
Great, I'm trying to anticipate how he's thinking again. And he just got home 45 minutes ago.
So I'm working on his letter right now. We'll see if he passive-aggressively gets back at me.
I guess I have to add that after our conversation, I opened my door. It was completely closed, but I don't remember if I completely closed it when I left.
Tonight I hunkered down for his return. Actually, I thought I was going to enjoy one last supper in peace with Mother, but she was kind of a bitch tonight, yelling at me while she was fluttering about making this huge dinner only three of us would eat. Whatever. Father called around this time; he excitedly talked to me about buying this condo, but I acted distracted, as if I was doing something else at the time, because if I had let him know I was in good spirits, he'd find a way to shut me down.
Expectations seemed pretty low when I realized that there was some traffic on the way down to the airport; for some reason there was construction going on in an area connecting Minneapolis and St. Paul, and for some reason there were a lot of people going through this area at 10:30 at night. It took about 25 minutes to get through that fuckin' area, so I was 15 minutes away from the airport when he called.
Thankfully this time he was patient about it and didn't make a fuss when I finally got to the airport. To "make up" for my cold reception to him over the phone and for being late, I engaged him on conversation about the new condo. He seemed excited -- genuinely excited. Unfortunately, he also told me he was disatisfied with his old one, and in fact needed my help in figuring out how to tell these guys he no longer wanted to close on it. So instead of cleaning up my room or mowing the lawn, that's the shit I need to do.
He got kind of obsessed about why he no longer wanted this particular condo as we got him, and then when he got something to eat. Meanwhile, the food stuck between my teeth were really bothering me, so slipped into the bathroom to floss. That's when I heard from outside My Father calling me.
I come out in case something hinky might be going on, and sadly, there was: Father heard and walked back toward me from my hallway and through the dining room. He thought I was in my room, therefore he walked down the hallway to talk to me about something.
And now my paranoid meter starts pinging off the hook. Did he not see that there were no lights on? And, by God, did he manage to open the door? Did he hit his head on the door because there was a huge bag containing my comforter right behind it? Did he see the stack of clothes I've yet to put away? How about the myriad bags of papers I still have, or the papers strewn around the floor? Did his mood immediately darken because I haven't cleaned up my room? Well, fuck him!
Great, I'm trying to anticipate how he's thinking again. And he just got home 45 minutes ago.
So I'm working on his letter right now. We'll see if he passive-aggressively gets back at me.
I guess I have to add that after our conversation, I opened my door. It was completely closed, but I don't remember if I completely closed it when I left.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Asshole Emmer Is Making Dayton Look Like A Pussy
Still pissed at how I damaged two cars yesterday just backing out of the driveway, and tonight I had to reset my modem again, so I'm kind of on red, therefore I guess I'll just talk about how the DFL'ers are about to piss away the governorship.
Did you know that the Democrats -- technically they are the Democrat-Farmer-Labor party in Minnesota -- haven't had a governor in 24 years?? The way things are going now, that drought's going to be extended to 28.
I don't want to link to all the stories, but in summary they show that the prick Republicans running the Tom Emmer campaign have already hit Mark Dayton with everything they've got -- and it seems to be working.
As soon as Dayton beat out Margaret Anderson Kelliher and Matt Entenza for his party's nomination, the Republicans sent out a press release calling him "erratic." This is an underhanded attempt to note that Dayton has admitted he has suffered from depression in the past. But this is also the guy who, as U.S. Senator, was the only one to shut down his office for about a month in 2004 because he thought the Senate Building was going to be the target of a terrorist attack. In his one term in that position, Dayton was called one of the worst Senators in the chamber by TIME.
And in line with his personality -- deliberate, thoughtful, but overwhelmed in the forum of competition -- he has looked slow, timid, and, unfortunately, stupid. His campaign has been running ads about Emmer's sponsor of a bill that would reduce sentences for DWI's (which is stupid, especially because he has two himself) and for skipping votes. Not bad. In fact, it's par for the course, or at least it should be.
But Emmer has shot back with a guerilla tactic: People following him around with cameraphones taping his every move. One of them already has caught Dayton looking bad by shooting him phoning his aide to open up the windows in the car for his dogs, whom he put there in the stifling heat we had for the past two weeks. So that was dumb.
What it was even more stupid was the press conference he held a couple days ago proposing that all of them declare a truce on cheap shots. The Republicans, unfortunately, are correct in mocking him. First of all, Dayton and his supporters have already run attack ads, so their argument that Dayton only wants to play nice after he started to play dirty has some water. Second, this happened after these goddamn video stalkers began tailing him, so Dayton now looks reactive, if not a wimp. Finally, there is no fucking way anybody in their right mind would go for this.
I heard a little of today's gubernatorial debate held up in Nisswa. Emmer was screaming at me like a jackass about "taking back government" even though his party have had the governorship the last eight fuckin' years, and Independence Party nominee Tom Horner had a really pronounced lisp. But Dayton sounded like a stammering idiot, and worse of all, he sounded weak. That's the claim Republicans have always slapped on DFL'ers, and I have to admit, in this case, it's working.
I didn't vote in the DFL primary; I lean Democrat, but I don't want to be tied with them. Being in groups with people and stuff ... yish. But I was afraid that the DFL would spit out their most vulnerable candidate. And turns out they have in Dayton, who has not hit the ground running. The strongest candidate probably was Kelliher, who, besides being a major presence in the state Legislature, was an unknown and therefore had a chance to define herself and her fairly powerful track record. Entenza has the weakness of his HMO wife and a lieutenant governor who was once a TV anchor, but at least he doesn't have to answer for the failure of his only term in the U.S. Senate.
With his past, his bad demeanor and his sheepish whining as the general election heats, Mark Dayton is about to squander the best chance the DFL has to unseat the Republicans and make the state governorship blue for the first time in a quarter-century. And it'll be pathetic.
Did you know that the Democrats -- technically they are the Democrat-Farmer-Labor party in Minnesota -- haven't had a governor in 24 years?? The way things are going now, that drought's going to be extended to 28.
I don't want to link to all the stories, but in summary they show that the prick Republicans running the Tom Emmer campaign have already hit Mark Dayton with everything they've got -- and it seems to be working.
As soon as Dayton beat out Margaret Anderson Kelliher and Matt Entenza for his party's nomination, the Republicans sent out a press release calling him "erratic." This is an underhanded attempt to note that Dayton has admitted he has suffered from depression in the past. But this is also the guy who, as U.S. Senator, was the only one to shut down his office for about a month in 2004 because he thought the Senate Building was going to be the target of a terrorist attack. In his one term in that position, Dayton was called one of the worst Senators in the chamber by TIME.
And in line with his personality -- deliberate, thoughtful, but overwhelmed in the forum of competition -- he has looked slow, timid, and, unfortunately, stupid. His campaign has been running ads about Emmer's sponsor of a bill that would reduce sentences for DWI's (which is stupid, especially because he has two himself) and for skipping votes. Not bad. In fact, it's par for the course, or at least it should be.
But Emmer has shot back with a guerilla tactic: People following him around with cameraphones taping his every move. One of them already has caught Dayton looking bad by shooting him phoning his aide to open up the windows in the car for his dogs, whom he put there in the stifling heat we had for the past two weeks. So that was dumb.
What it was even more stupid was the press conference he held a couple days ago proposing that all of them declare a truce on cheap shots. The Republicans, unfortunately, are correct in mocking him. First of all, Dayton and his supporters have already run attack ads, so their argument that Dayton only wants to play nice after he started to play dirty has some water. Second, this happened after these goddamn video stalkers began tailing him, so Dayton now looks reactive, if not a wimp. Finally, there is no fucking way anybody in their right mind would go for this.
I heard a little of today's gubernatorial debate held up in Nisswa. Emmer was screaming at me like a jackass about "taking back government" even though his party have had the governorship the last eight fuckin' years, and Independence Party nominee Tom Horner had a really pronounced lisp. But Dayton sounded like a stammering idiot, and worse of all, he sounded weak. That's the claim Republicans have always slapped on DFL'ers, and I have to admit, in this case, it's working.
I didn't vote in the DFL primary; I lean Democrat, but I don't want to be tied with them. Being in groups with people and stuff ... yish. But I was afraid that the DFL would spit out their most vulnerable candidate. And turns out they have in Dayton, who has not hit the ground running. The strongest candidate probably was Kelliher, who, besides being a major presence in the state Legislature, was an unknown and therefore had a chance to define herself and her fairly powerful track record. Entenza has the weakness of his HMO wife and a lieutenant governor who was once a TV anchor, but at least he doesn't have to answer for the failure of his only term in the U.S. Senate.
With his past, his bad demeanor and his sheepish whining as the general election heats, Mark Dayton is about to squander the best chance the DFL has to unseat the Republicans and make the state governorship blue for the first time in a quarter-century. And it'll be pathetic.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Backing Out Of The Driveway Fail
Through a series of Seinfeldian mishaps this evening, I feel as embarrassed, as pathetic, as I've rarely felt in a long time. I have to wake up every day from now on with these huge white streaks on the side of my car, and I can't blame anybody but myself because I did this to myself.
Well, I can say that there were a series of factors that contributed to my stupid, stupid mistake. So I can wallow in my self-pity, I'll note those in chronological order:
But what I didn't realize till it was too goddamn late was that I parked too far in my car's way and too far up. That meant I had no room to maneuver around. I scratched the antenna against the driver's-side mirror -- that's alright, my antenna needs to be replaced because it's broken. But I figured that after I got my antenna past that mirror, I can just slide right by it.
Whoops. Somehow, from my turning my front wheels back and forth and not being spatially aware, I pressed the side of my car against the side of my parents'. No, I said to myself, I don't have any time to just go get the minivan keys from Mother. So I get out of the car, re-evaluate, and get back in. I should have turned my front tires so that the ass of my car pointed away from my minivan.
Once I did, after I got my car to the end of the driveway, I got out of the car to see if there was any damage. Sadly for me, there was: Streaks on the passenger-side rear panels of the car. And upon closer inspection after I got downtown, I have these stronger white scrapes around the rim of my passenger's-side rear wheel well. I mean, it's bad.
My fucking God. I want to blame the falling dominoes of circumstances leading to what happened on the driveway. But I have to face facts: No one told me I had to park the minivan where and how I parked it. This is all my fault, and I am mentally squirming to figure out how the hell I can make this right. I can't. And that's what angers me about myself worst of all. I can't back out of my own goddamn driveway? Yeah I was tired and busy and rushed and had a lot of things on my mind ... but I can't back out of my own goddamn driveway?
I hate spending money, but I have to rectify this. That's why I'm deciding, I think, to cover up the scratches on my car. I don't know how to do it, but I remember Father giving me polish and wax and telling me that I can do something about the scratches he saw on my car. Well, after these really noticeable marks I made on my car, it's time. I doubt I'll do it well -- I'll probably fuck it up -- but I'm desperate to fix this.
God, I feel so stupid.
Well, I can say that there were a series of factors that contributed to my stupid, stupid mistake. So I can wallow in my self-pity, I'll note those in chronological order:
- The oil level light on my car is on again. Just to be sure, I decide to throw in some oil when I get a chance this weekend.
- My Father was headed to Las Vegas this weekend, and he told me about a week ago.
- My friend invited me out to the Lynx game on the 22nd, but it actually was the 15th -- last night. So I have to go to work and then go to the game.
- My friend tells me he has plans but says he can still squeeze the game in. He asks me if I still want to do it. And I'm all, "Fuck yeah, let's do it!"
- The plan was to go out and get some Arby's to eat Saturday, then eat at home Sunday. But Grandmother cooked pork chops on Saturday, so Mother and I decided to keep the Arby's coupon until Sunday.
- Today (Sunday) we close at 2 ... but Mother continues to do some things and we actually leave at 3, meaning I have about an hour to sleep when I could have used more. I woke up at 4:30 very, very groggy.
- I drive to Arby's using my parents' minivan. I park assuming I'll use it again.
- After asking for permission to drive to the game using her car, she remembers that she wants to drive somewhere that night and wants to use it. Shit, she even suggests that she take my car as I take hers, but I decline because it's her car.
- I'm late leaving, as I usually am.
- Finally, I'm still resolute about putting oil in my car, so even though I ate a bit late with my folks, I dash out and put oil in my car.
But what I didn't realize till it was too goddamn late was that I parked too far in my car's way and too far up. That meant I had no room to maneuver around. I scratched the antenna against the driver's-side mirror -- that's alright, my antenna needs to be replaced because it's broken. But I figured that after I got my antenna past that mirror, I can just slide right by it.
Whoops. Somehow, from my turning my front wheels back and forth and not being spatially aware, I pressed the side of my car against the side of my parents'. No, I said to myself, I don't have any time to just go get the minivan keys from Mother. So I get out of the car, re-evaluate, and get back in. I should have turned my front tires so that the ass of my car pointed away from my minivan.
Once I did, after I got my car to the end of the driveway, I got out of the car to see if there was any damage. Sadly for me, there was: Streaks on the passenger-side rear panels of the car. And upon closer inspection after I got downtown, I have these stronger white scrapes around the rim of my passenger's-side rear wheel well. I mean, it's bad.
My fucking God. I want to blame the falling dominoes of circumstances leading to what happened on the driveway. But I have to face facts: No one told me I had to park the minivan where and how I parked it. This is all my fault, and I am mentally squirming to figure out how the hell I can make this right. I can't. And that's what angers me about myself worst of all. I can't back out of my own goddamn driveway? Yeah I was tired and busy and rushed and had a lot of things on my mind ... but I can't back out of my own goddamn driveway?
I hate spending money, but I have to rectify this. That's why I'm deciding, I think, to cover up the scratches on my car. I don't know how to do it, but I remember Father giving me polish and wax and telling me that I can do something about the scratches he saw on my car. Well, after these really noticeable marks I made on my car, it's time. I doubt I'll do it well -- I'll probably fuck it up -- but I'm desperate to fix this.
God, I feel so stupid.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
I have papers around everywhere. Not just my newspapers and magazines; I have coupons that I put all over the place as well. I get those Val-Pak envelopes in the mail, I sort through them for the ones I think I'll use at a later time, and put them aside ... never to use them.
There is this one page I tore off from a circular a while back. It's on my nightstand under my box of tissues. The side showing has sale prices for gutter roofs and deck sealing services. I knew that the other side had the coupon I wanted to use. I just didn't remember, and I was too lazy to turn it over. Till yesterday.
When I finally climbed over my bed, exerted enough energy to pick up the tissue box and turn the flyer over, I saw they were coupons for dry cleaning ... and I had stuff drycleaned about three weeks ago. My laziness assured me that I would be paying more than I should have, because these were coupons for 25 and 30%.
These are the times where I hate myself, but it goes without saying.
There is this one page I tore off from a circular a while back. It's on my nightstand under my box of tissues. The side showing has sale prices for gutter roofs and deck sealing services. I knew that the other side had the coupon I wanted to use. I just didn't remember, and I was too lazy to turn it over. Till yesterday.
When I finally climbed over my bed, exerted enough energy to pick up the tissue box and turn the flyer over, I saw they were coupons for dry cleaning ... and I had stuff drycleaned about three weeks ago. My laziness assured me that I would be paying more than I should have, because these were coupons for 25 and 30%.
These are the times where I hate myself, but it goes without saying.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
RIP, Brookdale, For Real
I knew this was coming, but I didn't really know for sure because I couldn't get there the past couple or few months or so. But today was the first time I was able to get to Brookdale, or at least Sears Brookdale.
I was helping out Mother at work, and afterward she needed to go there to pick up glasses. She wanted to take some time to shop, so that allowed me to go to the entrance where Sears connected to the rest of the mall.
As I suspected, there was no entrance. Actually, a huge plastic screen closed off the threshold. I could see through it and into the mall, where there was absolutely nothing -- no stores, no people, no life. If I had the same vantage point the last time I was there, I might have been able to see a Foot Locker -- or was it Champs Sports, I don't know -- down the hall; otherwise, the view would've been the same.
Just now I saw the article saying that Brookdale was officially shut down as of the end of business Monday, April 26. I thought I visited after that date when I bought those things at Champs Sports -- or was it Foot Locker, I don't know -- but I guess it's been longer than I thought, and I guess I too avoid death when I smell it coming.
As I said before, sad.
I was helping out Mother at work, and afterward she needed to go there to pick up glasses. She wanted to take some time to shop, so that allowed me to go to the entrance where Sears connected to the rest of the mall.
As I suspected, there was no entrance. Actually, a huge plastic screen closed off the threshold. I could see through it and into the mall, where there was absolutely nothing -- no stores, no people, no life. If I had the same vantage point the last time I was there, I might have been able to see a Foot Locker -- or was it Champs Sports, I don't know -- down the hall; otherwise, the view would've been the same.
Just now I saw the article saying that Brookdale was officially shut down as of the end of business Monday, April 26. I thought I visited after that date when I bought those things at Champs Sports -- or was it Foot Locker, I don't know -- but I guess it's been longer than I thought, and I guess I too avoid death when I smell it coming.
As I said before, sad.
Friday, August 13, 2010
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -2). It's a long season, so even a sweep may not mean anything, but the Twinkies are on top of this week's WMNSS after taking two of three from the Chicago White Sox this week to get to first place in the A.L. Central by a game. And they also took two of three at Cleveland to go 4-2 for this cutoff week. The pitching is starting to solidify; Francisco Liriano and Carl Pavano continue to prove their worth as the top two hurlers in the rotation. And the offense continues to round into form; Delmon Young remains on his career-best year, and Joe Mauer is starting to hit like the MVP he is. They may be so good that they don't need Justin Morneau back at all this year; sit him down and make sure he is all the way back from his concussion.
What worries me this week is the defense, which was noticeably awful in Wednesday's 6-1 loss to the Pale Hose. In a series in this sport, where the slightest imbalance of luck can cost a team a game and then their World Series aspirations, committing errors and mental lapses on the field may be the Twins' Achilles' heel. This week they come back from one of their longest road trips to begin one of their longest homestands. They start with a weekend series vs. Oakland, then another workweek three-game showdown with Chicago.
#-2: Lynx (Last Week: -1). First of all I have to apologize for continuing to ignore the Lynx. Last week I said they had three games this cutoff week. Turns out they were really busy -- they had four. And unfortunately, they lost last (Thursday) night to L.A. at home to finish the week 2-2.
Thursday (last) night's defeat to the Farmers was particularly vexing: In a rematch where the Jynx were blown out by 13 (also at Target Center), the lost the game on a buzzer-beating 17-footer by Tina Thompson. In a season -- actually a history -- where the franchise routinely chokes away leads, the Jinx blew theirs in the fourth quarter this time, taking what was at one in the second quarter a 17-point lead and a six-point lead after three, and turning into a 78-77 defeat. They are now only a half-game ahead of the Sparks for the fourth and final spot in the Western Conference playoffs with five games remaining.
If there is any optimism to be taken from this week, it's that there seems to have been a codification of roles on this team. Chemistry is overblown in sports, especially in baseball, but in basketball people have to know what they're expected to do. Specifically, on a b-ball team you need to have a #1, #2 and #3 scorer. After a season beset by injuries and used to experiment with lineups, I think the Lynx have filled their slots. Seimone Augustus is the go-to girl, obviously. By necessity because of the season-ending injury to Candice Wiggins, Lindsay Whalen is the second option as well as the playmaker, something I still have trouble with even though she seems to be performing well on starter's minutes. Rebekkah Brunson could be the MVP on the team; she's the third scorer (maybe the second if Whalen's not doing well, such as in Thursday [last] night's loss to L.A.) and the leading rebounder. Nicky Anosike's the ballhawk, Charde Houston is the sixth man, etc. There is finally a rhythm to this team. Now they just have to fucking win.
They have four out of their last six, so that's not nothing. They're still in the thick of a playoff race, however. And four of those five final games are on the road. The penultimate week sees the Lynx playing at Washington, a team virtually assured of a playoff spot but jockeying for position and even the Eastern Conference title, Friday (tonight), concluding their home schedule hosting San Antonio, the team they're technically tied for third with (they lose on a tie-breaker, that's why they are the fourth seed if the playoffs started today), Sunday, then going to Seattle, who are 25-4, Tuesday.
What worries me this week is the defense, which was noticeably awful in Wednesday's 6-1 loss to the Pale Hose. In a series in this sport, where the slightest imbalance of luck can cost a team a game and then their World Series aspirations, committing errors and mental lapses on the field may be the Twins' Achilles' heel. This week they come back from one of their longest road trips to begin one of their longest homestands. They start with a weekend series vs. Oakland, then another workweek three-game showdown with Chicago.
#-2: Lynx (Last Week: -1). First of all I have to apologize for continuing to ignore the Lynx. Last week I said they had three games this cutoff week. Turns out they were really busy -- they had four. And unfortunately, they lost last (Thursday) night to L.A. at home to finish the week 2-2.
Thursday (last) night's defeat to the Farmers was particularly vexing: In a rematch where the Jynx were blown out by 13 (also at Target Center), the lost the game on a buzzer-beating 17-footer by Tina Thompson. In a season -- actually a history -- where the franchise routinely chokes away leads, the Jinx blew theirs in the fourth quarter this time, taking what was at one in the second quarter a 17-point lead and a six-point lead after three, and turning into a 78-77 defeat. They are now only a half-game ahead of the Sparks for the fourth and final spot in the Western Conference playoffs with five games remaining.
If there is any optimism to be taken from this week, it's that there seems to have been a codification of roles on this team. Chemistry is overblown in sports, especially in baseball, but in basketball people have to know what they're expected to do. Specifically, on a b-ball team you need to have a #1, #2 and #3 scorer. After a season beset by injuries and used to experiment with lineups, I think the Lynx have filled their slots. Seimone Augustus is the go-to girl, obviously. By necessity because of the season-ending injury to Candice Wiggins, Lindsay Whalen is the second option as well as the playmaker, something I still have trouble with even though she seems to be performing well on starter's minutes. Rebekkah Brunson could be the MVP on the team; she's the third scorer (maybe the second if Whalen's not doing well, such as in Thursday [last] night's loss to L.A.) and the leading rebounder. Nicky Anosike's the ballhawk, Charde Houston is the sixth man, etc. There is finally a rhythm to this team. Now they just have to fucking win.
They have four out of their last six, so that's not nothing. They're still in the thick of a playoff race, however. And four of those five final games are on the road. The penultimate week sees the Lynx playing at Washington, a team virtually assured of a playoff spot but jockeying for position and even the Eastern Conference title, Friday (tonight), concluding their home schedule hosting San Antonio, the team they're technically tied for third with (they lose on a tie-breaker, that's why they are the fourth seed if the playoffs started today), Sunday, then going to Seattle, who are 25-4, Tuesday.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Took Back A Tip
Remember the Seinfeld episode where George was pissed at the cashier at the calzone restaurant for not acknowledging his tip and so took the tip he already placed in the jar when that cashier wasn't looking, but got caught when the cashier looked back?
What happened at the Nomad World Pub the day of the World Cup Final kind of reminded me of that, and in fact helped reach my split-second decision. This happened more than a month ago, but I hope the waitress I fucked over doesn't care or totally forgot. Because if I were her, I would never allow me back in there again. But I just didn't think that ...
So the place is packed; for soccer, the Nomad is the place to go. It went into overtime -- of course, it's a soccer match -- and so I decide to give up my prime spot standing right beside a speaker in front of the big projection screen at the far end of the place to go up to the bar and get myself a beer.
Once I push my way through the throng and belly up, I had to wait till I get the attention of one of the very busy bartenders. I ask one of them a question, I forget what, and when he answers with something like, "We don't have that," he passed me by to help other customers. So I was put in a bad mood.
When I finally got another barkeep and ask for, I think, a Bud, she asks me, "Are you paying by cash?" I think I hear her over the din of the crowd but am puzzled by what she asked me. This was a no-spending-cash day, so I say no.
So I get the beer and the receipt. The bartender is tending to other things, so I just make sure I did it right -- wrote my signature down on the right place, signed the merchant copy instead of the customer copy, etc. -- when I noticed an item on the receipt: Something like a "credit card charge" or something. The hell? So that's why she asked me how I was paying! Well, fuck this, I said to myself. I didn't totally understand what was going on, but if there was going to be an upcharge just because I decided to use my Visa, then that stands in for my tip.
I was part scared to get caught like George, but part furious, but I decided to do it: While she was running around doing other things, I picked up the pen again and crossed out the amount I allowed her to charge me by a buck. I was panicking as I scratched it out, so I put down the pen and the receipt upside-down, took my beer, and took off for the outdoor area, where the game was being shown on a large TV screen.
My plan was to stay until the game was over (it took a late last-second goal from Spain in the second OT, about 15 minutes after I escaped the bar) then leave through the parking lot so she doesn't see me. There were a lot of people there and it was kind of drizzling, so I had very few places I could stand and watch the game. I settled on a spot only several feet away from the door to the inside, right next to a stove that was serving hot food, and right above a scary, heavy line of ants surrounding something.
Just after the goal was scored, I turn ... and see the waitress!! Damnit!!! She didn't look at me, she just walked past with this hurried gait and worried look on her face. She was talking to some of her co-workers for stuff, I guess. In a fit of fear I bolted from her wake as soon as she walked past me to another part of the outdoors area, one where I didn't have much of a view of the game. Later, I saw her holding a plate of food; maybe she really wanted to take a break. Or, maybe she was pissed at me for taking away money.
Later I realized what that credit card charge could've meant. The government passed that consumer protection reform bill a couple months ago. One of the new laws allows merchants to charge different prices for items and services if the customer pays by cash or check instead of credit card. All the articles I've read regarding this new provision couch it so that there's a discount if you pay by cash, but no way in hell does that not get turned around so that a business can charge more for a credit card. And I think that's the case here.
And if so ... well, it's not a tip to the wait staff, but I still don't like it. So I may or may not go there for MLS Cup 2010. And if I do, I hope that waitress doesn't throw a beer in my face.
What happened at the Nomad World Pub the day of the World Cup Final kind of reminded me of that, and in fact helped reach my split-second decision. This happened more than a month ago, but I hope the waitress I fucked over doesn't care or totally forgot. Because if I were her, I would never allow me back in there again. But I just didn't think that ...
So the place is packed; for soccer, the Nomad is the place to go. It went into overtime -- of course, it's a soccer match -- and so I decide to give up my prime spot standing right beside a speaker in front of the big projection screen at the far end of the place to go up to the bar and get myself a beer.
Once I push my way through the throng and belly up, I had to wait till I get the attention of one of the very busy bartenders. I ask one of them a question, I forget what, and when he answers with something like, "We don't have that," he passed me by to help other customers. So I was put in a bad mood.
When I finally got another barkeep and ask for, I think, a Bud, she asks me, "Are you paying by cash?" I think I hear her over the din of the crowd but am puzzled by what she asked me. This was a no-spending-cash day, so I say no.
So I get the beer and the receipt. The bartender is tending to other things, so I just make sure I did it right -- wrote my signature down on the right place, signed the merchant copy instead of the customer copy, etc. -- when I noticed an item on the receipt: Something like a "credit card charge" or something. The hell? So that's why she asked me how I was paying! Well, fuck this, I said to myself. I didn't totally understand what was going on, but if there was going to be an upcharge just because I decided to use my Visa, then that stands in for my tip.
I was part scared to get caught like George, but part furious, but I decided to do it: While she was running around doing other things, I picked up the pen again and crossed out the amount I allowed her to charge me by a buck. I was panicking as I scratched it out, so I put down the pen and the receipt upside-down, took my beer, and took off for the outdoor area, where the game was being shown on a large TV screen.
My plan was to stay until the game was over (it took a late last-second goal from Spain in the second OT, about 15 minutes after I escaped the bar) then leave through the parking lot so she doesn't see me. There were a lot of people there and it was kind of drizzling, so I had very few places I could stand and watch the game. I settled on a spot only several feet away from the door to the inside, right next to a stove that was serving hot food, and right above a scary, heavy line of ants surrounding something.
Just after the goal was scored, I turn ... and see the waitress!! Damnit!!! She didn't look at me, she just walked past with this hurried gait and worried look on her face. She was talking to some of her co-workers for stuff, I guess. In a fit of fear I bolted from her wake as soon as she walked past me to another part of the outdoors area, one where I didn't have much of a view of the game. Later, I saw her holding a plate of food; maybe she really wanted to take a break. Or, maybe she was pissed at me for taking away money.
Later I realized what that credit card charge could've meant. The government passed that consumer protection reform bill a couple months ago. One of the new laws allows merchants to charge different prices for items and services if the customer pays by cash or check instead of credit card. All the articles I've read regarding this new provision couch it so that there's a discount if you pay by cash, but no way in hell does that not get turned around so that a business can charge more for a credit card. And I think that's the case here.
And if so ... well, it's not a tip to the wait staff, but I still don't like it. So I may or may not go there for MLS Cup 2010. And if I do, I hope that waitress doesn't throw a beer in my face.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Gauntlet Has Been Thrown
After dinner I worked out. After working out I went for some coffee and some time on my computer. Maybe I shouldn't have since there was a huge rainstorm on my way to the coffeeshop. A couple times this past summer I wanted to go out but didn't because inclement weather was on its way. I thought that as long as there weren't any tornadoes, I'd be fine. But, driving through rain falling so fast and hard I need to use the high setting on my windshield makes me reconsider.
Anyway, I wanted to catch the opening of Jimmy Kimmel Live because I thought he'd talk about that JetBlue stewardess man who quit over the intercom and used the emergency slide to leave the plane. (By the way, I have two thoughts on that: The pictures I've seen of him have him smiling creepily, so I'm not going to call him a folk hero yet; and I want to know who the identity of the woman who hit and cursed at him and apparently sent him over the edge.) I failed.
However, when I came in I saw My Father, who left before me after dinner because he needed to buy some stuff at the hardware store. For the first time in many days, he was less than nice to me: "Why were out so late?" he asked, presumably in relation to the huge rainstorm.
"I was working," was my weak reply. But the battle lines have been set. Just a half-hour ago, even though I went downstairs to eat Mother's flan which is a sure sign I was up, My Fucking Father disconnected the modem right while I was using it. So I just went down there to plug it in again. Not for all night like last night -- I need to keep the peace, I did use the Internet tonight when I was out for coffee, and I should concentrate on working on my writing -- but I need it to blog about this and surf through Reality King porn before the night's through.
Still think he did this to get back at me. So now I'm getting back at him.
Anyway, I wanted to catch the opening of Jimmy Kimmel Live because I thought he'd talk about that JetBlue stewardess man who quit over the intercom and used the emergency slide to leave the plane. (By the way, I have two thoughts on that: The pictures I've seen of him have him smiling creepily, so I'm not going to call him a folk hero yet; and I want to know who the identity of the woman who hit and cursed at him and apparently sent him over the edge.) I failed.
However, when I came in I saw My Father, who left before me after dinner because he needed to buy some stuff at the hardware store. For the first time in many days, he was less than nice to me: "Why were out so late?" he asked, presumably in relation to the huge rainstorm.
"I was working," was my weak reply. But the battle lines have been set. Just a half-hour ago, even though I went downstairs to eat Mother's flan which is a sure sign I was up, My Fucking Father disconnected the modem right while I was using it. So I just went down there to plug it in again. Not for all night like last night -- I need to keep the peace, I did use the Internet tonight when I was out for coffee, and I should concentrate on working on my writing -- but I need it to blog about this and surf through Reality King porn before the night's through.
Still think he did this to get back at me. So now I'm getting back at him.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Hot Time, Summer In The City
This has been the worst spell of weather all year. It's been hot and humid for about a week, give or take a day. In fact, I don't think we've had such a streak of awful, shitty heat in a long time, maybe ever.
I've felt and seen the aftereffects of this oppressive weather, in me and in others, the past few days:
I've felt and seen the aftereffects of this oppressive weather, in me and in others, the past few days:
- Been so desultory the past few days the cellphone alarm woke me up from a deep sleep. Without Mother asking me to go to the bank, I've been out deep when it started blowing up. At what time did I set up my alarm? Noon-ish.
- Because I had to be at the U. at 1, I should have just gone straight to "work." But it's been hot, so I don't care. I go to lunch, eat kind of quickly, and get there very late -- like ten minutes late yesterday and 15 today. Oops.
- I was told today that my results have been inconsistent. Oh-oh. Wake-up call. I don't think I've been not listening the past few sessions. I do what I usually do: Close my eyes, kind of space out, and listen to the blips and bleeps and figure out which one is not like the others. Has it been incorrect? This might lead to something bad, like getting fired. I can't have that. Oh well; that means I have to wake up early enough to get there on time now. Have to show them I'm serious about this.
- Road rage flare-ups galore on the way home. Cutting in front, merging without signaling, honking horns, etc. I have to admit I did a few of those things, too.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Now He's Done It
So I plugged in the modem for use all night. I totally forget about this afternoon as I'm bolting out the door.
I finally come back this afternoon, like, now, and I when I turn back on my laptop the modem isn't plugged in.
Either he used it this morning and unplugged the modem himself, or is disgusted that I used it all night and is trying to send me a message.
This is going to get very, very ugly. Stay tuned.
I finally come back this afternoon, like, now, and I when I turn back on my laptop the modem isn't plugged in.
Either he used it this morning and unplugged the modem himself, or is disgusted that I used it all night and is trying to send me a message.
This is going to get very, very ugly. Stay tuned.
So, The Ants Are Behind It ...
It's been a struggle with our yards. It has never been as lushly verdant as some of the others in the neighborhood, but we (smartly) won't pay for lawn care service. This is one type of keeping up with the Joneses that I hope we never submit to.
However, it's bad, and I think it's been on the decline for the past two years. Then, there were so many weeds that Father wanted me to buy something to kill them with. I don't remember what I got, but it was so damn effective that not only did it kill the weeds in our front and back yards, it killed the grass surrounding it. I went all Vietnam on the weeds because there were so many, which meant that two summers ago there were massive swaths of brown grass and a number of bare spots. Whoops. I thought the government banned these types of pesticides.
So the following year Father decided to add new sod. He didn't tell me, and I kind of lost it. I wrote about it too. It didn't take. Probably a combination of not watering it enough and bad soil. The bare patches and brown grass remain to this day, even if we water.
But something new is cropping up: anthills. We've had them on the cracks of our driveway since I can remember. But starting in the spring, I think, I've noticed that they've formed right in the middle of my lawn. And there are a lot of them, both in bare and lush spots, in the front and back yards. I filed in the back of my mind the need, not pressing at the time, to figure out what's going on and what needs to be done about this.
Meantime, through the summer, I noticed an ominous thing: The grass isn't growing as fast as before, and there are many more brown patches on our lawns. In fact, many spots that should be overgrown with green grass that needed to be cut every two weeks looked to be wilting. I just chalked that up to not watering as much as we should (although the rainfall this summer has been average, maybe even above-average).
But I finally got around to thinking about those anthills and I went to the hardware store. That's when, as I was looking at the back of one of those pesticides (most of which have huge images of ants on the front, scary!) and saw one of the areas it recommends to put this poison on: areas that are dry and have moths flying from when you mow the lawn. Wait a second ... oftentimes when I mow I see these moths, and I think they're from the dry parts of the lawn. You mean it's not the lack of water starving the grass, but the ants killing them! Damn it, they must be stopped!!!
So now, even though I ain't no expert, I'm convinced the reason our lawn looks so awful is because the ants are invading our grass, and they soon may be trying to invade our house. The past few years we've seen ant attacks inside our house, but those were always in the spring, so I figure they're getting food after hibernating. No more. They've gotten too complacent. Whatever it is -- damn the environment -- I need to buy and use as many pesticides I can to kill the ants in our front and back yard and stop them from infiltrating the house.
I feel so like a Republican right now.
However, it's bad, and I think it's been on the decline for the past two years. Then, there were so many weeds that Father wanted me to buy something to kill them with. I don't remember what I got, but it was so damn effective that not only did it kill the weeds in our front and back yards, it killed the grass surrounding it. I went all Vietnam on the weeds because there were so many, which meant that two summers ago there were massive swaths of brown grass and a number of bare spots. Whoops. I thought the government banned these types of pesticides.
So the following year Father decided to add new sod. He didn't tell me, and I kind of lost it. I wrote about it too. It didn't take. Probably a combination of not watering it enough and bad soil. The bare patches and brown grass remain to this day, even if we water.
But something new is cropping up: anthills. We've had them on the cracks of our driveway since I can remember. But starting in the spring, I think, I've noticed that they've formed right in the middle of my lawn. And there are a lot of them, both in bare and lush spots, in the front and back yards. I filed in the back of my mind the need, not pressing at the time, to figure out what's going on and what needs to be done about this.
Meantime, through the summer, I noticed an ominous thing: The grass isn't growing as fast as before, and there are many more brown patches on our lawns. In fact, many spots that should be overgrown with green grass that needed to be cut every two weeks looked to be wilting. I just chalked that up to not watering as much as we should (although the rainfall this summer has been average, maybe even above-average).
But I finally got around to thinking about those anthills and I went to the hardware store. That's when, as I was looking at the back of one of those pesticides (most of which have huge images of ants on the front, scary!) and saw one of the areas it recommends to put this poison on: areas that are dry and have moths flying from when you mow the lawn. Wait a second ... oftentimes when I mow I see these moths, and I think they're from the dry parts of the lawn. You mean it's not the lack of water starving the grass, but the ants killing them! Damn it, they must be stopped!!!
So now, even though I ain't no expert, I'm convinced the reason our lawn looks so awful is because the ants are invading our grass, and they soon may be trying to invade our house. The past few years we've seen ant attacks inside our house, but those were always in the spring, so I figure they're getting food after hibernating. No more. They've gotten too complacent. Whatever it is -- damn the environment -- I need to buy and use as many pesticides I can to kill the ants in our front and back yard and stop them from infiltrating the house.
I feel so like a Republican right now.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Grandmother knocks on my door about 15-20 minutes ago. I'm thinking, What-what-what??? Someone on the phone?
No. "Can you take my blood sugar?" Really? Couldn't this wait. How rude.
Meanwhile, I've made the decision to keep the modem plugged in the next few days, at least. Don't know why this is making me nervous. First of all, I've already done it one night. Second of all, I'm paying for Internet. Still, in the back of my head I'm thinking I'm going to have a confrontation with My Father over this. Wish me luck.
No. "Can you take my blood sugar?" Really? Couldn't this wait. How rude.
Meanwhile, I've made the decision to keep the modem plugged in the next few days, at least. Don't know why this is making me nervous. First of all, I've already done it one night. Second of all, I'm paying for Internet. Still, in the back of my head I'm thinking I'm going to have a confrontation with My Father over this. Wish me luck.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Rough Afternoon
Thought I had a good night's sleep. But the combination of yardwork for an hour, walking around the golf course under a blistering sun and drinking alcohol while watching the 3M Championships made this a very bad past 75 minutes.
I was crashing bad when I got on the school bus to take us back to the parking lots. Unfortunately I got off at the wrong tent. I saw my car on the other side of the fence and thought it was the closest one; however, there was no fucking hole I can go through to get to the other side. So I had to walk all the way down to the end, where the road was, then go back up to reach my car. That's 10 minutes I'll never get back.
I tried taking a nap in my bed. I had enough space on both sides of me to open up the front doors of my car so I could get rid of the hot air building inside it over the past hour since I parked it as well as create a tunnel where the wind (and it is blowing this afternoon) would zip through it and cool me off. However, the sun was too strong, and I didn't have time to just stay there, or at least so I thought.
I was too tired to think about my itinerary for tonight; come to think of it, I still don't know. I decided to go to Uptown and make up for buying the wrong drink yesterday and getting a cold press this time around. (It's not bad.) However, and I hate to admit this, I don't remember driving down here. I was that tired. OK, I kind of take that back -- I was in a daze driving until the two incidents where I had to wake up and change lanes because the cars in front of me were too slow. And I still barely remember those, and I totally forgot all the details. I swear I was tired enough that I could've gotten into an accident.
But I made it safely to my parking spot, where I decided this is where I'll take a nap. And despite the traffic noise I passed out, mostly because I managed to park in the shade and I was dead damn tired. And I was about to let "taking a nap" be my itinerary as I slipped into the beautiful embrace of unconsciousness ... until I choked on my saliva and coughed myself awake. I've done that a few times in my life and it always pisses me off because there are fewer more violent ways to wake up than to feel like you're choking. I looked at the clock in the car; I think I was out for five minutes. It could've been 50, and I wouldn't have minded.
Maybe the stripclub is out; the girl I like talking to but sucks at dancing is working this shift, and I don't feel like either giving her money or ducking her. Maybe I'll just go back into my car after this and sleep before heading to the gym. That sounds mighty nice right now.
I was crashing bad when I got on the school bus to take us back to the parking lots. Unfortunately I got off at the wrong tent. I saw my car on the other side of the fence and thought it was the closest one; however, there was no fucking hole I can go through to get to the other side. So I had to walk all the way down to the end, where the road was, then go back up to reach my car. That's 10 minutes I'll never get back.
I tried taking a nap in my bed. I had enough space on both sides of me to open up the front doors of my car so I could get rid of the hot air building inside it over the past hour since I parked it as well as create a tunnel where the wind (and it is blowing this afternoon) would zip through it and cool me off. However, the sun was too strong, and I didn't have time to just stay there, or at least so I thought.
I was too tired to think about my itinerary for tonight; come to think of it, I still don't know. I decided to go to Uptown and make up for buying the wrong drink yesterday and getting a cold press this time around. (It's not bad.) However, and I hate to admit this, I don't remember driving down here. I was that tired. OK, I kind of take that back -- I was in a daze driving until the two incidents where I had to wake up and change lanes because the cars in front of me were too slow. And I still barely remember those, and I totally forgot all the details. I swear I was tired enough that I could've gotten into an accident.
But I made it safely to my parking spot, where I decided this is where I'll take a nap. And despite the traffic noise I passed out, mostly because I managed to park in the shade and I was dead damn tired. And I was about to let "taking a nap" be my itinerary as I slipped into the beautiful embrace of unconsciousness ... until I choked on my saliva and coughed myself awake. I've done that a few times in my life and it always pisses me off because there are fewer more violent ways to wake up than to feel like you're choking. I looked at the clock in the car; I think I was out for five minutes. It could've been 50, and I wouldn't have minded.
Maybe the stripclub is out; the girl I like talking to but sucks at dancing is working this shift, and I don't feel like either giving her money or ducking her. Maybe I'll just go back into my car after this and sleep before heading to the gym. That sounds mighty nice right now.
Confusing Night
I had a plan that after Friday Night Lights I would head down to the stripclub, see if I wanted to get any laps, then head to the coffeehouse for some late-night writing.
My first mistake was missing the exit to the strip bar. So I had to go to the next exit and then go back ... except that the next exit was miles away. Sigh. So I decide to flip my destinations and hit the coffeeshop.
But then I saw the barricades. Ah, shit, I forgot the Uptown Art Fair. So now I have to worry about parking problems as I slither into my favorite coffeeshop. And then I realize that the barricades are going to prevent me from going out the usual way and I have to back up. Furthermore, once I went inside the house (and it's an actual house, it just has tables and chairs), I saw that the locked the upper floor. I like the upper floor because it's private and it has many plugs for my laptop. Without that, there's no use in staying.
So I didn't. Instead I went to my second-favorite coffeeshop just up the street. There I was debating whether to get a hot mocha or a cold press. I figured I was going to go to this place again the next couple of days, and they're going to be a lot more humid than it was today, so I got my usual at this place, a hot mocha.
Then I realize that I hate the mochas here. Why didn't I just go get a cold press? Whatever, too late. On top of that I get sort-of surly customer service from the girl when I asked for whip cream on my mocha. She has a right to tell me that they only put it on request, but we didn't get off on the right foot, either. Finally, I put two quarters in the tip jar when I intended to only throw in one. It slipped out of my palm.
Did get my column sent, so off to the stripclub. The one sort-of annoying one, the one whose dances are always air but she seems quite friendly in conversation, asked me for a lap. I acknowledge a girl needing to hustle, but I just had to say no, at least for now. She's really nice, and I feel like I should reward her persistence, but maybe I'll do it tomorrow or Sunday.
And ... that's my night.
My first mistake was missing the exit to the strip bar. So I had to go to the next exit and then go back ... except that the next exit was miles away. Sigh. So I decide to flip my destinations and hit the coffeeshop.
But then I saw the barricades. Ah, shit, I forgot the Uptown Art Fair. So now I have to worry about parking problems as I slither into my favorite coffeeshop. And then I realize that the barricades are going to prevent me from going out the usual way and I have to back up. Furthermore, once I went inside the house (and it's an actual house, it just has tables and chairs), I saw that the locked the upper floor. I like the upper floor because it's private and it has many plugs for my laptop. Without that, there's no use in staying.
So I didn't. Instead I went to my second-favorite coffeeshop just up the street. There I was debating whether to get a hot mocha or a cold press. I figured I was going to go to this place again the next couple of days, and they're going to be a lot more humid than it was today, so I got my usual at this place, a hot mocha.
Then I realize that I hate the mochas here. Why didn't I just go get a cold press? Whatever, too late. On top of that I get sort-of surly customer service from the girl when I asked for whip cream on my mocha. She has a right to tell me that they only put it on request, but we didn't get off on the right foot, either. Finally, I put two quarters in the tip jar when I intended to only throw in one. It slipped out of my palm.
Did get my column sent, so off to the stripclub. The one sort-of annoying one, the one whose dances are always air but she seems quite friendly in conversation, asked me for a lap. I acknowledge a girl needing to hustle, but I just had to say no, at least for now. She's really nice, and I feel like I should reward her persistence, but maybe I'll do it tomorrow or Sunday.
And ... that's my night.
Friday, August 6, 2010
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Lynx: (Last Week: -2). These ladies are 9-16, a winning percentage of 36%. And yet they won both their games this week to top the WMNSS. Necessary too -- they now site a half-game in front of Los Angeles for the fourth and final playoff spot in the Western Conference.
It's a very telling symptom of a talented but unmotivated squad: They play or down to the level of their competition. In the Lynx's case, look to the three games they've played against the Seattle Bing, who are lapping the entire WNBA with a 23-4 record. They lost at Seattle by three April 19, then lost to the Storm at home July 17 by two, then, on Sunday, finally broke through with a one-point win (although they went ahead with a Nicky Anosike free throw with only 5.5 seconds left and gave up a miss by Sue Bird at the end of the ballgame). The Lynx then won an overtime, 111-103, over Connecticut Tuesday, even though they were up in the middle of the second quarter by 30 points. At least they held on this time. Lindsay Whalen scored 27 against her former team.
They've got three this week: at Chicago tomorrow at the Allstate Arena (wherever that is), home to New York Sunday, then at San Antonio Tuesday. Oh, and by the way, they re-signed their 2005 first-round draft pick, Kristen Mann, Tuesday. I don't know if she's going to be useful replacing the waived Núria MartÃnez (she had a bad hamstring and was planning to play for her national team in Spain), but I'll tell you one thing: She's easy on the eyes. Look at her -- she ain't no man.
#-2: Twins: (Last Week: -1). So obviously they had to man up this week. They had won eight in a row after sweeping Seattle last weekend, but got a huge wake-up call against the Tampa Bay Rays. Should I be thankful they were able to grind out a split, meaning they went a productive 5-2 this week and wind up still 1 1/2 games behind Chicago? Or should I note that the Bay Rays came back to tie after the Twinkies got leads both Wednesday night and Thursday (yesterday) afternoon? Or, should I note that they came back to win both games? Or, should I then offer that Delmon Young booted a fly ball Wednesday and then came back to make the game-winning hit in extra innings, and that yesterday's victory came when Jason Kubel hit a pop-up that clanged off a catwalk and eventually landed behind the pitcher's mound? I guess you need the breaks no matter how good people think you should be. However, the starting pitching was very good, with both Scott Baker and Kevin Slowey pitching like we expected them to.
This week they continue on the road. They have a weekend series at Cleveland, and then starting Tuesday, they have a big three-game series against the White Sox.
It's a very telling symptom of a talented but unmotivated squad: They play or down to the level of their competition. In the Lynx's case, look to the three games they've played against the Seattle Bing, who are lapping the entire WNBA with a 23-4 record. They lost at Seattle by three April 19, then lost to the Storm at home July 17 by two, then, on Sunday, finally broke through with a one-point win (although they went ahead with a Nicky Anosike free throw with only 5.5 seconds left and gave up a miss by Sue Bird at the end of the ballgame). The Lynx then won an overtime, 111-103, over Connecticut Tuesday, even though they were up in the middle of the second quarter by 30 points. At least they held on this time. Lindsay Whalen scored 27 against her former team.
They've got three this week: at Chicago tomorrow at the Allstate Arena (wherever that is), home to New York Sunday, then at San Antonio Tuesday. Oh, and by the way, they re-signed their 2005 first-round draft pick, Kristen Mann, Tuesday. I don't know if she's going to be useful replacing the waived Núria MartÃnez (she had a bad hamstring and was planning to play for her national team in Spain), but I'll tell you one thing: She's easy on the eyes. Look at her -- she ain't no man.
#-2: Twins: (Last Week: -1). So obviously they had to man up this week. They had won eight in a row after sweeping Seattle last weekend, but got a huge wake-up call against the Tampa Bay Rays. Should I be thankful they were able to grind out a split, meaning they went a productive 5-2 this week and wind up still 1 1/2 games behind Chicago? Or should I note that the Bay Rays came back to tie after the Twinkies got leads both Wednesday night and Thursday (yesterday) afternoon? Or, should I note that they came back to win both games? Or, should I then offer that Delmon Young booted a fly ball Wednesday and then came back to make the game-winning hit in extra innings, and that yesterday's victory came when Jason Kubel hit a pop-up that clanged off a catwalk and eventually landed behind the pitcher's mound? I guess you need the breaks no matter how good people think you should be. However, the starting pitching was very good, with both Scott Baker and Kevin Slowey pitching like we expected them to.
This week they continue on the road. They have a weekend series at Cleveland, and then starting Tuesday, they have a big three-game series against the White Sox.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
I Knew It!
Woke up early because I had to go to "work." I set up experiments for Thursdays at 10 o'clock because that would force me to get up and see if My Fucking Father was setting out my bags of papers and magazines to be recycled. He was acting a little testy last night, topped up with unplugging the modem while I was using it, and I was afraid he would pull that shit again this morning.
And by God, he did. There are some bags of mine in the living room, and I thought it looked like a couple were missing. And sure enough there were a couple bags outside resting next to the glass and bottle bins. Goddamn him. In a scramble I took inside and threw them in my closet. My ever-stuffed closet that My Father would freak out to see if he ever invaded my room.
That's it. I don't have a choice anymore. I have to get a self-storage space. I have to pay fifty bucks a month and move all my shit into it so he doesn't throw out all my stuff. Why can't he leave things alone? Why does he need to clean up? What's wrong with leaving stuff out? Who is it hurting? And who cares about impressing guests when no one drops by?
I mean, really, goddamn. ...
And by God, he did. There are some bags of mine in the living room, and I thought it looked like a couple were missing. And sure enough there were a couple bags outside resting next to the glass and bottle bins. Goddamn him. In a scramble I took inside and threw them in my closet. My ever-stuffed closet that My Father would freak out to see if he ever invaded my room.
That's it. I don't have a choice anymore. I have to get a self-storage space. I have to pay fifty bucks a month and move all my shit into it so he doesn't throw out all my stuff. Why can't he leave things alone? Why does he need to clean up? What's wrong with leaving stuff out? Who is it hurting? And who cares about impressing guests when no one drops by?
I mean, really, goddamn. ...
Father seemed OK when I called him this morning when I was really calling Mother. Then I tried to call her on her cell this afternoon and I got him instead; I hate it when he answers her phone, even if she's driving. For the first time in a long time he took the remote from me and changed the channel; I was watching the PBS Newshour talking about the striking down of Proposition 8. And then he wanted to talk to me about Favre.
Later, way after dinner, I heard loud noises coming from downstairs. Mother's voice, as it always is. Were they fighting, was she just yelling at him? Finally, while I'm working on my laptop up here, the connection suddenly cuts off. At first I thought it was the modem being buggy again, but then I see that there's no connection whatsoever. After I run downstairs, I saw it unplugged -- just the way I had it unplugged (to keep it from overheating) when they came home from work. So maybe Father is following my lead ... or is he responding to the tongue-lashing he got from Mother and taking it out on me by cutting me off from my Internet while I'm up here?
I don't like this. I really don't. This means I have to make sure I get up early tomorrow and check if My Father has decided to throw any of my stuff out. He could be in one of those moods again. And just when I thought things were going so good. ...
Later, way after dinner, I heard loud noises coming from downstairs. Mother's voice, as it always is. Were they fighting, was she just yelling at him? Finally, while I'm working on my laptop up here, the connection suddenly cuts off. At first I thought it was the modem being buggy again, but then I see that there's no connection whatsoever. After I run downstairs, I saw it unplugged -- just the way I had it unplugged (to keep it from overheating) when they came home from work. So maybe Father is following my lead ... or is he responding to the tongue-lashing he got from Mother and taking it out on me by cutting me off from my Internet while I'm up here?
I don't like this. I really don't. This means I have to make sure I get up early tomorrow and check if My Father has decided to throw any of my stuff out. He could be in one of those moods again. And just when I thought things were going so good. ...
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
A Good Plan, Seven Months In The Making
Weather-wise, yesterday was the worst day of the year. The morning low was 72 or 74. It reached 90 by 11 in the morning. And it was as oppressively humid as I've ever remembered it being in Minneapolis.
That, plus the fact I didn't eat anything in the morning before going into "work" at the U., gave me the perfect opportunity I was waiting for to finally cash in on my free Orange Julius. Oh, I blogged about it, but here's the gist of it: New Year's Day I went to the local mall and bought a piña colada smoothie and it sucked. I did send a message on the Dairy Queen website, and I did get a response. Not only was I sent a five-dollar gift card, I also got a call from the manager of the store where I bought the ice-drink pledging I will get a free large piña colada the next time I come in. Plus, she said that the girl who fucked up my drink was going to be fired very, very soon. Awesome. This is customer service at its best.
However, it's been seven months since I got this offer. I didn't want a refreshing smoothie in the winter, I wanted to wait until I absolutely needed it, in the summer -- like yesterday. So during my chores, one of which had me going to the mall to pick up a purse for my Grandmother anyway, I decided this was the perfect time. I go up and tell her I want to use it, and she had no idea who I was. Uh-oh. But then I told her my name, and she said, "Large piña colada smoothie!" Yes! There's a list of names the store has to make make-up drinks for, and it was so long ago, my name was taped over by another list of names.
The only thing I could question is when I got it. I wanted to get it as soon as possible because I had an empty stomach and I was kind of afraid I wouldn't finish enough of it by the time I got home after my errands. But that meant drinking the first part of it -- turned out to be more than half -- in the comfy confines of the mall while walking from one of its ends to the other to retrieve the purse. That didn't give me a whole lot to drink when I got back outside, got into my sweltering car, and trying to keep it together while going to the bank, checking out a self-storage space, and checking gas prices. I should be happy I didn't have a whole lot of Orange Julius in case I spilled while driving, but what I had left was fairly warm, and so it didn't give me the entire cool-down effect I would have gotten if, say, I immediately went to my car after picking up the piña colada.
Minor quibble. It was hot, I was hungry, and so it was the perfect time to get a huge Orange Julius smoothie. It took seven long months, but my plan worked!
That, plus the fact I didn't eat anything in the morning before going into "work" at the U., gave me the perfect opportunity I was waiting for to finally cash in on my free Orange Julius. Oh, I blogged about it, but here's the gist of it: New Year's Day I went to the local mall and bought a piña colada smoothie and it sucked. I did send a message on the Dairy Queen website, and I did get a response. Not only was I sent a five-dollar gift card, I also got a call from the manager of the store where I bought the ice-drink pledging I will get a free large piña colada the next time I come in. Plus, she said that the girl who fucked up my drink was going to be fired very, very soon. Awesome. This is customer service at its best.
However, it's been seven months since I got this offer. I didn't want a refreshing smoothie in the winter, I wanted to wait until I absolutely needed it, in the summer -- like yesterday. So during my chores, one of which had me going to the mall to pick up a purse for my Grandmother anyway, I decided this was the perfect time. I go up and tell her I want to use it, and she had no idea who I was. Uh-oh. But then I told her my name, and she said, "Large piña colada smoothie!" Yes! There's a list of names the store has to make make-up drinks for, and it was so long ago, my name was taped over by another list of names.
The only thing I could question is when I got it. I wanted to get it as soon as possible because I had an empty stomach and I was kind of afraid I wouldn't finish enough of it by the time I got home after my errands. But that meant drinking the first part of it -- turned out to be more than half -- in the comfy confines of the mall while walking from one of its ends to the other to retrieve the purse. That didn't give me a whole lot to drink when I got back outside, got into my sweltering car, and trying to keep it together while going to the bank, checking out a self-storage space, and checking gas prices. I should be happy I didn't have a whole lot of Orange Julius in case I spilled while driving, but what I had left was fairly warm, and so it didn't give me the entire cool-down effect I would have gotten if, say, I immediately went to my car after picking up the piña colada.
Minor quibble. It was hot, I was hungry, and so it was the perfect time to get a huge Orange Julius smoothie. It took seven long months, but my plan worked!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
One Awful Mistake Changes Everything
I do want to work. In fact I've gotten a lot of research jobs lately where I'm a guinea pig. It's not a steady job but it's the kind I like at this point in my life: Noncommital, quick, part-time (I'm going to be in an MRI for three hours tomorrow morning, the skills for which I'm overqualified for) and without any demands for competence, attitude or even hygiene. My job is to show up on time (maybe be punctually late) get into a tube, and lie there motionless. Nice work if you can get it.
No, it's not a full-time gig, but they're hard to find, they really are. I don't want to be on unemployment because it's not giving the me lifestyle I want to enjoy, and I'm really, really starting to be frightened of my bank account. What happened today adds a new turn of the screw to the stress of where I'm at, and what I'm in, right now.
So I do this MRI study last week, and Mondays are the first day you can apply for unemployment. I always forget that my income is very close to the weekly benefit amount I can get a week. I just didn't realize that my job at the MRI was enough, income-wise, to push me over that weekly benefit amount. When I declared that today, I was told I was to receive exactly zero dollars. I thought it was the state trying to screw me again until I remembered what I had done.
That decision, the taking of that job in the MRI, cost me $75 this week. And I'm scheduled to go in tomorrow, which means this week is all gone as well. It's not as if I lose the money, it's just pushed back to a week where I make below my benefit amount. Still, with my credit card and cellphone bills coming the first half of this month, I really could have used that money.
So I sit tight, see my checking account head south, and wonder what I can do to entertain myself in this, August, The Most Boring Month Of The Summer. I still look for work, I still try and figure out what makes me happy, I still hope I have time. Because I'm really, really starting to run out of money.
These are the instances where all I want to do is stay in my bed and lie perfectly still. Not even a breath, nothing that will cost me anything.
No, it's not a full-time gig, but they're hard to find, they really are. I don't want to be on unemployment because it's not giving the me lifestyle I want to enjoy, and I'm really, really starting to be frightened of my bank account. What happened today adds a new turn of the screw to the stress of where I'm at, and what I'm in, right now.
So I do this MRI study last week, and Mondays are the first day you can apply for unemployment. I always forget that my income is very close to the weekly benefit amount I can get a week. I just didn't realize that my job at the MRI was enough, income-wise, to push me over that weekly benefit amount. When I declared that today, I was told I was to receive exactly zero dollars. I thought it was the state trying to screw me again until I remembered what I had done.
That decision, the taking of that job in the MRI, cost me $75 this week. And I'm scheduled to go in tomorrow, which means this week is all gone as well. It's not as if I lose the money, it's just pushed back to a week where I make below my benefit amount. Still, with my credit card and cellphone bills coming the first half of this month, I really could have used that money.
So I sit tight, see my checking account head south, and wonder what I can do to entertain myself in this, August, The Most Boring Month Of The Summer. I still look for work, I still try and figure out what makes me happy, I still hope I have time. Because I'm really, really starting to run out of money.
These are the instances where all I want to do is stay in my bed and lie perfectly still. Not even a breath, nothing that will cost me anything.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Bitch, Why You Calling Me So Early???
Grandmother rapped my door. When I opened it, she stuck out a telephone. Thought it was some person trying to speak to her in English.
When I answered, I was surprised that it was for me. It's the dentist's office, and they wanted to schedule an appointment because, as the receptionist put it, "October's schedule just opened up and it's filling fast."
She volunteered a date. I said, "Well, I have trouble planning two months ahead, but ..."
"But it just opened up and it's filling fast!"
Don't snap at me, fool. "I'm not trying to be glib, I think October [I forgot what date it was, this is why scheduling something over the phone is useless because I have no way to write it down, how stupid of her] seems fine."
When I go back to bed I check my phone. It's 8:15. A quarter after eight in the fucking morning. You fucking kidding me? Who in the hell calls somebody so goddamn early? Isn't there some sort of rule where you don't call someone before, like, 10 unless it's an emergency? If there isn't there should be.
I think I've heard that voice before. I think I know who it is. It's that bitch receptionist that handles the scheduling for my dentist and everyone in her group. Had to speak with her the last time I came in for an appointment -- curt, dismissive, bad tone in her voice, and she refused to make eye contact with until she said goodbye to me. The hallmarks of a person who just doesn't give a shit, and I believe, I truly believe, she was the one who called me. In fact, I think she likes to piss people off by calling so early in the morning, just to be passive-aggressive and spread her feelings of misery to everyone she come in contact with. It's the only way she gets through her day.
Swear to fucking God if I see her again in October I'll give her a piece of my mind. What the hell was she thinking? I should call her up at a quarter after 1 in the morning, see if she likes that. Damn her.
When I answered, I was surprised that it was for me. It's the dentist's office, and they wanted to schedule an appointment because, as the receptionist put it, "October's schedule just opened up and it's filling fast."
She volunteered a date. I said, "Well, I have trouble planning two months ahead, but ..."
"But it just opened up and it's filling fast!"
Don't snap at me, fool. "I'm not trying to be glib, I think October [I forgot what date it was, this is why scheduling something over the phone is useless because I have no way to write it down, how stupid of her] seems fine."
When I go back to bed I check my phone. It's 8:15. A quarter after eight in the fucking morning. You fucking kidding me? Who in the hell calls somebody so goddamn early? Isn't there some sort of rule where you don't call someone before, like, 10 unless it's an emergency? If there isn't there should be.
I think I've heard that voice before. I think I know who it is. It's that bitch receptionist that handles the scheduling for my dentist and everyone in her group. Had to speak with her the last time I came in for an appointment -- curt, dismissive, bad tone in her voice, and she refused to make eye contact with until she said goodbye to me. The hallmarks of a person who just doesn't give a shit, and I believe, I truly believe, she was the one who called me. In fact, I think she likes to piss people off by calling so early in the morning, just to be passive-aggressive and spread her feelings of misery to everyone she come in contact with. It's the only way she gets through her day.
Swear to fucking God if I see her again in October I'll give her a piece of my mind. What the hell was she thinking? I should call her up at a quarter after 1 in the morning, see if she likes that. Damn her.
Three Strippers. One Dick.
I need to talk about this. I've waited for the heat to die down, and I finally have wireless connectivity, for now (more on my thoughts about that shit mess later), and since I won't have time to do this tomorrow, I'll talk about this now.
So I went to one of My Favorite Stripclubs a week or so ago, ostensibly because I wanted to talk to this girl about what happened to her performing artist troupe -- something about a schism amongst the acts. Anyway, I had to wait until a Friday because my All-Time Favorite at this particular My Favorite Stripclub said for sure she works on Fridays. I avoided those days because I always get the impression it'd be filled with downtown workers who decided to work only a half-day and start their weekend early.
Not quite, but there was a lot more commotion, a few more dancers than on another weekday, and another staff member. Who I did not see was my ATF, ******e. I overheard one of the guys working there that he was waiting for her to show up -- she's very punctual -- and that he's surprised she hasn't come out yet.
I was entertained by a lithe blonde with a tramp stamp when I finally saw ******e storm out of the back. Once the stage set was done and the two-for-one began, I was ready for my usual with her. But when she got up from the couches where they usually lay when nothing's going on, the girl who was sitting next to her stood up too. I couldn't make her out through the darkness, but when she walked alongside ******e, I finally saw her face -- it's ***a, the girl I wanted to see!
I told her I'd be back for her while ******e did me a solid in the beds in the back. I saw the same guy lamenting ******e talk to ***a, but I didn't think anything of it. It's not as if I was pulling my dick out in the open with so many more people around. No, that's what the bed stalls were for. The last time I was there ******e couldn't stop touching my ass while I was empyting my pockets. I figured if she was going to do this again, I was going to surprise her by whipping my pee-pee out and turning around; maybe then she'll really get aggressive with me, like I want her to.
But as I turn around to present myself, I see ***a at the opening. I literally screamed! What was she doing here? "Do you want to buy [******e] a drink?"
I was floored. "You're a drink girl today?" (Drink girls are waitresses who, as is supposed to be the case in places like this, hit you up for more money under the auspices of slaking your girl's thirst before you start your dance. I hate that. She hates it too, and she knew the drill, so I didn't have to say no.)
Then, for no particular reason, ******e asks a question that never occurred to me: "Are you an exhibitionist?"
Why would she ask that? Well, it's not as if it's a totally weird question; I mean, we are at a strip club. But I didn't think having another girl there would trigger thoughts in me about showing. ... Well, I need to back up here. These two girls seem to get along, which is rare at a nudie bar; later I saw them looking at ***a's laptop. And I like both of them, they're my two favorites there. So I've had a dream for a long time where I'd get them two alone and I'd show them how they made me feel.
Well, this horny haze just comes over me again and I realized that I have the ideal situation that I wanted right now -- my two favorites, a bed stall, darkness, and no one able to come in and spy on us nor bother us. This is totally what I want, dude!!! It's just that Justine kind of ruined the setting by asking such a stupid question. She asks weird, non-germane questions a lot. I think she might have Asperger's syndrome.
Anyway, she and ***a were just talking. I said -- hopefully I said, instead of stammered or even mumbled some unintelligible language that showed all my blood was going into my cock -- "Well, does that mean she's cool with ..." and then the dick, which I put back when I turned around and saw ***a, I took back out. I knew ******e's seen my manhood, but it's for ***a to. Except that she wasn't; she was looking and actively talking to ******e. Yet I was undaunted; all I can think about, all I wanted, was for her to look at my true essence. Either she was into her conversation with Justine or she kind of knew and/or saw with her peripheral vision I was out and wanted to avoid seeing it. I was staring at her eyes, waiting for her to shift them down and to the right, and I wanted her reaction to viewing my cock for the first time ever.
lookatitlookatitlookatit
And finally -- finally! -- I saw that she couldn't help but look down at my pee-pee. Yay, one of my greatest wishes has come true!! And she ... she ... she turned and walked away. Huh? Shoot, she didn't do that in my dreams. No, she was supposed to get a smile on her face and then grab my pee-pee and yank it vigorously. Not walking away in ... disgust? Confusion? Fear? She's a sweet Suicide Girl -- petite, pale, long black hair and lip piercing. She ain't down?
I was all disappointed with myself when ******e kind of yelled at me: "You shouldn't have done that."
"I thought it'd be OK."
"Put that away."
I love ******e, but lately she's been really scared of getting caught. I still believe she won't, yet her hesitation has led to some finishes that weren't explosions, more like pudouts. And now she really didn't act like she was in the mood. I sheathed my cock but left it unbuttoned; when the music began she quickly buttoned me all the way before she rode me. Was she scared of the presence outside, was she mad at me for presenting myself to ***a, or both?
Regardless, I wanted to push our relationship further -- kinkier, tougher, a tad more S&M. I've always wanted to bite her tits. She lingered her beautiful natural nips upon me and I took a chomp. She shivered, pulled her away from me, grabbed my wrists and put them above me, and told me not to do it. Or else what, will you punish me? Please?? Pretty please??? But she didn't. It was the worst dance I ever got from her -- no touching, the grinding wasn't even good, and most of the time she was asking me questions I just give a shit about. I gave her $100 because of our previous history.
---
Immediately jumping out of the bed stall I wanted to apologize to ***a. I kind of knew in the back of my mind she wasn't that type of girl, but I couldn't help myself, and now not only was I afraid she would get me kicked out, but she would hate me forever.
She was onstage almost right after I got done with ******e. I was profusely apologetic. Either she's a really cool chick or she shut off part of her heart for me for good, but she was "no big deal" about me flashing her. We talked about her new burlesque troupe at the tip rail and when we did a 2-for-1 at the couches. She invited me to their next performance later this month. But I'm still wondering if I lost her for good after that stunt. Man, this is why you don't take chances. Or maybe I'm just sad that she won't touch my pee-pee.
---
Well thank God, then, for ******e, a girl who I've quickly realize will always deliver without paying any mind to staff interference (and by the way, she spells her stage name with an "i" instead of an "a." Glad I asked her.) After I got done with ***a, I was ready for ******e. More than ready, in fact; I was ready to blow twice this visit, and I saved myself for it. But after getting blue-balled by ******e, I needed the sweetest hand lovin' she could provide.
She did, and she didn't fuck around. Once we got into the benches -- these are the cheaper-priced seats, and they're a little more conspicuous, and there is a smidgen more light in this area -- she knew what I wanted, and she was ready to deliver. She crammed her hand down my pants, and then I just ripped my pants open. Before she got down to business she said, "Hold on," and she reached back to get her purse. Inside, she dug for something she squirted onto her hands. "What's that?" I asked.
"Just a lube." Ah! I am in expert hands!
She told me not to completely drop my pants on the floor, so I opened the front of it open and let my pee-pee laze there, like the pistil of a blooming flower. She was afraid the management would think they were up to something, but with the way she was standing up while she was jerking me off (vigourously, the way I like it, the way ******e didn't and never has treated me), if anyone poked their head in, they should know the jig is up. But I love ******e because she doesn't care. She took care of me good; we were there for a 2-for-1, but I was done well before the first song ended, and so I had to close up shop and she had to writhe on top of me to keep up appearances. The damage, nevertheless, was done.
I'm starting to think I need to replace ATF's. ******e and I have never gotten into deep conversation, just stuff about how things are doing with us, but I've spoken to her about my unemployment and she's been encouraging, even if it is with bromides. Contrast that to ******e, who, after I ordered lunch to dry off, plopped down in the chair next to me and asked questions she really had no good reason to ask. Example: "What are you doing tonight?" Why does she want to know that? She's not inviting me anywhere.
I try to turn the tables while eating my hamburger. What I want to know from a stripper is personal information. ******e told me once she had a son, so I ask her how is he. She immediately snaps back, "Why do you want to ask about my son?" The same reason you asked me what my plans were that evening -- to start a conversation. So she shut me down, yet sat next to me, even though I was concentrating on my burger. I should've whipped it out right then and there.
I need to give her one more chance; so much has gone on between us, especially where our bodies collided back in the beds. I'll go at a time when she's there and ******e isn't, and hopefully it's a day that's quieter, and maybe then she'll forgive me and jack me the way I want to.
Man -- you expose yourself and a girl could react in a multitude of ways.
So I went to one of My Favorite Stripclubs a week or so ago, ostensibly because I wanted to talk to this girl about what happened to her performing artist troupe -- something about a schism amongst the acts. Anyway, I had to wait until a Friday because my All-Time Favorite at this particular My Favorite Stripclub said for sure she works on Fridays. I avoided those days because I always get the impression it'd be filled with downtown workers who decided to work only a half-day and start their weekend early.
Not quite, but there was a lot more commotion, a few more dancers than on another weekday, and another staff member. Who I did not see was my ATF, ******e. I overheard one of the guys working there that he was waiting for her to show up -- she's very punctual -- and that he's surprised she hasn't come out yet.
I was entertained by a lithe blonde with a tramp stamp when I finally saw ******e storm out of the back. Once the stage set was done and the two-for-one began, I was ready for my usual with her. But when she got up from the couches where they usually lay when nothing's going on, the girl who was sitting next to her stood up too. I couldn't make her out through the darkness, but when she walked alongside ******e, I finally saw her face -- it's ***a, the girl I wanted to see!
I told her I'd be back for her while ******e did me a solid in the beds in the back. I saw the same guy lamenting ******e talk to ***a, but I didn't think anything of it. It's not as if I was pulling my dick out in the open with so many more people around. No, that's what the bed stalls were for. The last time I was there ******e couldn't stop touching my ass while I was empyting my pockets. I figured if she was going to do this again, I was going to surprise her by whipping my pee-pee out and turning around; maybe then she'll really get aggressive with me, like I want her to.
But as I turn around to present myself, I see ***a at the opening. I literally screamed! What was she doing here? "Do you want to buy [******e] a drink?"
I was floored. "You're a drink girl today?" (Drink girls are waitresses who, as is supposed to be the case in places like this, hit you up for more money under the auspices of slaking your girl's thirst before you start your dance. I hate that. She hates it too, and she knew the drill, so I didn't have to say no.)
Then, for no particular reason, ******e asks a question that never occurred to me: "Are you an exhibitionist?"
Why would she ask that? Well, it's not as if it's a totally weird question; I mean, we are at a strip club. But I didn't think having another girl there would trigger thoughts in me about showing. ... Well, I need to back up here. These two girls seem to get along, which is rare at a nudie bar; later I saw them looking at ***a's laptop. And I like both of them, they're my two favorites there. So I've had a dream for a long time where I'd get them two alone and I'd show them how they made me feel.
Well, this horny haze just comes over me again and I realized that I have the ideal situation that I wanted right now -- my two favorites, a bed stall, darkness, and no one able to come in and spy on us nor bother us. This is totally what I want, dude!!! It's just that Justine kind of ruined the setting by asking such a stupid question. She asks weird, non-germane questions a lot. I think she might have Asperger's syndrome.
Anyway, she and ***a were just talking. I said -- hopefully I said, instead of stammered or even mumbled some unintelligible language that showed all my blood was going into my cock -- "Well, does that mean she's cool with ..." and then the dick, which I put back when I turned around and saw ***a, I took back out. I knew ******e's seen my manhood, but it's for ***a to. Except that she wasn't; she was looking and actively talking to ******e. Yet I was undaunted; all I can think about, all I wanted, was for her to look at my true essence. Either she was into her conversation with Justine or she kind of knew and/or saw with her peripheral vision I was out and wanted to avoid seeing it. I was staring at her eyes, waiting for her to shift them down and to the right, and I wanted her reaction to viewing my cock for the first time ever.
lookatitlookatitlookatit
And finally -- finally! -- I saw that she couldn't help but look down at my pee-pee. Yay, one of my greatest wishes has come true!! And she ... she ... she turned and walked away. Huh? Shoot, she didn't do that in my dreams. No, she was supposed to get a smile on her face and then grab my pee-pee and yank it vigorously. Not walking away in ... disgust? Confusion? Fear? She's a sweet Suicide Girl -- petite, pale, long black hair and lip piercing. She ain't down?
I was all disappointed with myself when ******e kind of yelled at me: "You shouldn't have done that."
"I thought it'd be OK."
"Put that away."
I love ******e, but lately she's been really scared of getting caught. I still believe she won't, yet her hesitation has led to some finishes that weren't explosions, more like pudouts. And now she really didn't act like she was in the mood. I sheathed my cock but left it unbuttoned; when the music began she quickly buttoned me all the way before she rode me. Was she scared of the presence outside, was she mad at me for presenting myself to ***a, or both?
Regardless, I wanted to push our relationship further -- kinkier, tougher, a tad more S&M. I've always wanted to bite her tits. She lingered her beautiful natural nips upon me and I took a chomp. She shivered, pulled her away from me, grabbed my wrists and put them above me, and told me not to do it. Or else what, will you punish me? Please?? Pretty please??? But she didn't. It was the worst dance I ever got from her -- no touching, the grinding wasn't even good, and most of the time she was asking me questions I just give a shit about. I gave her $100 because of our previous history.
---
Immediately jumping out of the bed stall I wanted to apologize to ***a. I kind of knew in the back of my mind she wasn't that type of girl, but I couldn't help myself, and now not only was I afraid she would get me kicked out, but she would hate me forever.
She was onstage almost right after I got done with ******e. I was profusely apologetic. Either she's a really cool chick or she shut off part of her heart for me for good, but she was "no big deal" about me flashing her. We talked about her new burlesque troupe at the tip rail and when we did a 2-for-1 at the couches. She invited me to their next performance later this month. But I'm still wondering if I lost her for good after that stunt. Man, this is why you don't take chances. Or maybe I'm just sad that she won't touch my pee-pee.
---
Well thank God, then, for ******e, a girl who I've quickly realize will always deliver without paying any mind to staff interference (and by the way, she spells her stage name with an "i" instead of an "a." Glad I asked her.) After I got done with ***a, I was ready for ******e. More than ready, in fact; I was ready to blow twice this visit, and I saved myself for it. But after getting blue-balled by ******e, I needed the sweetest hand lovin' she could provide.
She did, and she didn't fuck around. Once we got into the benches -- these are the cheaper-priced seats, and they're a little more conspicuous, and there is a smidgen more light in this area -- she knew what I wanted, and she was ready to deliver. She crammed her hand down my pants, and then I just ripped my pants open. Before she got down to business she said, "Hold on," and she reached back to get her purse. Inside, she dug for something she squirted onto her hands. "What's that?" I asked.
"Just a lube." Ah! I am in expert hands!
She told me not to completely drop my pants on the floor, so I opened the front of it open and let my pee-pee laze there, like the pistil of a blooming flower. She was afraid the management would think they were up to something, but with the way she was standing up while she was jerking me off (vigourously, the way I like it, the way ******e didn't and never has treated me), if anyone poked their head in, they should know the jig is up. But I love ******e because she doesn't care. She took care of me good; we were there for a 2-for-1, but I was done well before the first song ended, and so I had to close up shop and she had to writhe on top of me to keep up appearances. The damage, nevertheless, was done.
I'm starting to think I need to replace ATF's. ******e and I have never gotten into deep conversation, just stuff about how things are doing with us, but I've spoken to her about my unemployment and she's been encouraging, even if it is with bromides. Contrast that to ******e, who, after I ordered lunch to dry off, plopped down in the chair next to me and asked questions she really had no good reason to ask. Example: "What are you doing tonight?" Why does she want to know that? She's not inviting me anywhere.
I try to turn the tables while eating my hamburger. What I want to know from a stripper is personal information. ******e told me once she had a son, so I ask her how is he. She immediately snaps back, "Why do you want to ask about my son?" The same reason you asked me what my plans were that evening -- to start a conversation. So she shut me down, yet sat next to me, even though I was concentrating on my burger. I should've whipped it out right then and there.
I need to give her one more chance; so much has gone on between us, especially where our bodies collided back in the beds. I'll go at a time when she's there and ******e isn't, and hopefully it's a day that's quieter, and maybe then she'll forgive me and jack me the way I want to.
Man -- you expose yourself and a girl could react in a multitude of ways.
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