You know what really sucks on vacation? Getting a flat tire on your rental. Now I have to stay up for the AAA guy. And this alters the rest of my vacay.

Great -- first I get a ticket and now this. Maybe I shouldn't take vacations anymore.

I Go Dark

I'll be on vacation from now until Saturday. I'm trying desperately to find a public library, but no guarantees. The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey is a probable no. Stay strong and keep the faith, brothas and sistas.

That son-of-a-bitch old man has a lot of goddamn nerve. He yelled at me for not letting him and Mother know that the pot Mother was cooking on the propane stove on the back deck was still on overnight because she forgot to check it. Since I'm closest to the backdoor, I'm supposed to check to see if it's all locked and if nothing's on the stove. And he had the fucking balls to pull the "You're a man now, you have to be responsible" bullshit on me.

So it's my fault if somebody else does something wrong? Fuck you! Fuck you two times, motherfucker!!! That is the dumbest fucking shit you've ever said. I'm not responsible for covering another person's fuck-ups. But you do ... when it comes to me. So typical.

You know, this is My Fucking Father's passive-aggressive way of getting back at me for giving him just one more bag of pruned lilac bushes to take the dumpster at the store. I had already chopped them down! Should they just stay lying in the backyard? What the fuck. I didn't chop down more branches, like he probably thinks. Well, I did, but it wasn't many, and they still fit into one bag, so fuck that asshole.

Now I'm Really Worried About Grandmother

And it goes beyond her forgetting and thus repeatedly asking me stuff, like the many times she's asked me when I'm going on vacation, or if I got her the money out of her checking account from the bank, though she's done that a lot in recent months, and it both bugs the shit and frightens the hell out of me.

Two things stand out:

1) When I stopped by my aunt's apartment to give her the money and food Father wanted me to deliver to her last week, my aunt said something odd. I was making small talk with her after I gave her everything and was about to get into my car -- hi, how are you doing, stuff like that. As that conversation was ending, my aunt told me, "Don't tell your Grandmother you were here and gave me stuff!" I gave her a puzzled look: "Why?"

"Because she no good," she said in her broken English. No good? What do you mean? Is her forgetting jags getting to bug the shit out of my aunt, too? Or does it have to do with something Grandmother has told me in the past, namely that she thinks that when my aunt comes here weekly to do her laundry, she takes stuff, mostly food. Maybe Grandmother accused her of that, and my aunt's afraid she'll see this delivery as just more evidence she's a thief.

Whatever the case, I was floored by how a family tension that I didn't even think existed would bubble to the surface, and so violently. If there's bad blood between the two, I can't imagine the air between the two when my aunt waits for the laundry to be washed and she comes upstairs to watch TV, and my Grandmother comes out because she has nothing to do in her bedroom and always walks to the place in the house with commotion and sits down to watch with her.

---

2) Last week I came home late, either Friday from seeing a burlesque show or Saturday from a GameWatch. I did not test Grandmother that day, so I wanted to do it that night.

While I was finding her blood pressure and sugar levels, she relayed a story that made some sense. She was at the casino that day and came back when I was gone. Grandmother claims that after she came home, Father came up from downstairs and locked the doors -- latches and chains. She knew I wasn't home yet, so she went downstairs and unchained and unlatched the front door. Mother then stormed out of the master bed and yelled at her, for what either I don't recall or Grandmother didn't say.

And then she said, "Mother wants me out of the house." I've never heard her say that before. Now, I've heard her say that Father wants her out of the house, many times. But Mother? She can be annoyed at the way she hovers around the kitchen, or makes rice every single night, even on the nights they tell her not to. But Mother has never voiced anything close to wanting to kick her out of the house.

It seems out of character for Mother, especially because she needed Grandmother's help when they decided to leave Vietnam. From what I can best recollect, Grandmother was asked by Mother to immigrate with them when they decided to bolt for the States. She has a son at home, a son whom I believe she hasn't seen in decades. I don't know why she essentially abandoned him for us. All I know is she was the one who took care of me and my brother and sister when we got home and my parents were still working at the soon-to-be-closed store, as well as the restaurant and theater they had back in the day. That's why I'm so close to Grandmother; she was there when I needed someone, and my parents were not.

At some point the relationship between Grandmother and my parents soured. It's probably due to the grind of seeing the same person day after day. I still don't believe that Mother would intentionally want Grandmother out of the house; after all, this is my scatterbrained Grandmother, so very well may have heard incorrectly. But regardless of whether she did or not, she seemed very hurt by what Mother said to her that evening. She sits up when I test her levels, but she had a noticeable slouch to her shoulders, and she was sighing and looking down with intent, like she didn't want me to see the look on her face. She looked both fatigued and depressed by yet another threat by the breadwinners in the house.

After I was done, the only thing I could do was hug her. And so I did. And the hug was different, too. Whenever I hug her out of the blue, she just stands or sits there, arms still off to her side, as I wrap her in my arms. This time I felt no rigidity, no resistance from her. It felt like she needed someone to embrace her, someone to protect her from happened to her that night.

Spent most of the day pruning the lilac bushes. They could still use some work, even more after I leave on vacation next week, even though I may not have the time, and certainly despite Father warning me not to do any more pruning. Now, because he told me not to, I want to do some more, on Monday.

While he has time he dumped the downstairs TV. It's huge and so heavy that it took me, him, and Mother to take it to their minivan. My God, flat screens have revolutionized televisions. They are so light now! How did we ever deal with moving TV's in the past. ...

While we were waiting just outside the door for Mother to tend to dinner before she could come back down and finish taking the TV outside, he started talking to me about cleaning my room. I think he was trying to remind me that he's shutting down the dumpster service at the store -- gulp -- very soon. But I don't have shit I need to dump in the dumpster. I need to clean my room, but they're mostly papers, and they can be recycled from home. Does he think I need to move big stuff out of my room, like books, or even this desk on which I'm blogging about this?

Goddamn, if he's going to come into my room while I'm gone and clear it of all my stuff like he fucking did the last time, I'm going to kill him.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Lynx (Last Week: -1). This might be the first time in WMNSS history that I rank none of the teams by record. I mean, I have accounted for the fact that I place a team with a loss above one that went undefeated for the week because of the big picture, that that team still has a good chance of making the playoffs while the other has been eliminated from the postseason for some time (to give an example; I'm sure I've done that once or twice before, but I don't remember specifically). But this is the first time where I've thrown records out the window for most, if not all, the teams in the WMNSS. The records the teams accrued this week reveal next to nothing about the real state of the teams or their prospects of postseason success.

Take the Jynx, for example. They went 2-1 this week, but no matter. They obviously top this week's list because they bounced back from that defeat, a Game 2 loss at San Antonio in the Western Conference Semifinals on Sunday, by pounding the shit out of the Silver Stars in Game 3 on Tuesday, 85-67. I had the hook-up for the game, but foolishly, I was inclined not to go because I did not want to bear witness to what I was sure would be a choke job by the Jynx. My friend took one of my friend's tickets, and I told him that if he could find someone to go with him, take him or her. But he failed to, and I am not one to waste things, so I decided to go at the last minute. Thank Buddha I did, and thank goodness I was wrong about the Lynx.

So when my same friend got the hook-up for more complimentary tickets for Game 1 of the Western Conference Finals Thursday, I did not hesitate; I said fuck yeah I'll go! And thank God I did not pay for my optimism; the Lynx held the Phoenix Mercury to the same amount of points San Antone scored two days before, but added 10 of their own. In other words, the team crushed Phoenix 95-67.

The team led by as much as, I think, 17 points in the first half before Phoenix cut it to as little as six(?) points in the third. But then, in a sign of loaded championship teams, the Lynx went on a run to put the game away.

The main difference between this team and teams past, I now believe, is injury. The most important ability in basketball, and yet the most nebulous to capture, is the ability to just flat out score. Seimone Augustus and Candice Wiggins have that God-given shooting touch. But both players have been out for significant periods of time in seasons past that have torpedoed good rosters. So, in retrospect, maybe it shouldn't be surprising that the Lynx have gone from bottom-feeder to championship contender in one year. It was just a matter of getting healthy.

Thursday they looked good enough to win Game 2 in Phoenix Sunday afternoon. If they don't, the deciding Game 3 will be at Target Center Tuesday night. Let's cross fingers that they don't blow this.

#-2: Gopher women's soccer (Last Week: -4). Another example of records not meaning anything this week. The distaff footballers won once and tied once this week, and are thus 1-0-1 to begin Big Ten play. But they have dug themselves a big hole in non-conference play, and their overall record stands at 6-5-1. They're not in the Pac-12, so they have a lot of work in-conference to get an invitation to the NCAA Tournament.

Last (Friday) night's victory at Michigan was a wild one. Minnesota scored first, then the Wolverines tied and went ahead before halftime. Then it began The Taylor Uhl Show. The Eden Prairie Freshman Forward rebounded a goal in the 68th minute to re-knot the match. Finally, with 58 seconds left to go, Uhl chipped a shot past Michigan Goalie Haley Kopmeyer to win the match. She has now scored four goals this season.

They continue their three-game road trip early Sunday afternoon at Michigan St. and Thursday at Wisconsin.

#-3: Gopher football (Last Week: -6). Good news and better news. The good news: Head Coach Jerry Kill did not have a seizure on the sidelines on Saturday! Better news: The Goofs finally won their first game of the season, a 29-23 victory over Miami (OH) at TCF Bank Stadium. They're still third because, at 1-2, they have no shot to win the Mythical National Championship, and they are probably not a good team.

And that's all I've got.

I wonder if I should put the Gopher gridironers in next week's survey. Tonight (Saturday night) they are hosting North Dakota St. in their annual "bodybag" game. But whose body is in the bag? The Gophers have been so awful in recent years that, if you recall, the Bison actually went into the Dome and beat Tim Brewster and Minnesota. I understand why a first-division program would want to play a lower-division squad. But it only makes sense if you're so good that there's no doubt you would lay waste to that sacrificial lamb. In such a scenario, the team gains confidence, the players get playing time, the coaching staff gets a win to pad their resume, the fans get what should be a dominating victory to get shitfaced over, and the program can point to the win as a sign Minnesota's on the way up.

But there's little upside for a program as sucky as Minnesota's to do the same, especially against a close school that travels very well, like North Dakota St. Gopher fans are so apathetic that The Bank is probably going to be half-Bison. There's no chance Minnesota will destroy NDSU. And if the Bison win? That is a serious dagger that could end the honeymoon and maybe even abort the stint of Coach Kill at the U.

There should be a law that at least 12 games have to be against top-flight schools. You can schedule a lower-division team at home in order to generate revenue, but that's a 13th game for your school. Also, a win has no bearing on your BcS standing, but a loss does. That should be enough of an incentive to cut down on the number of these embarrassing "bodybag" games.

#-4: Gopher women's volleyball (Last Week: -2). 2-1 for the week ... but the one loss may expose the pecking order of the Big Ten.

They beat Middle Tennessee St. in three sets and host Marquette in five to win the Marquette Tournament last weekend. But the ninth-ranked Goofs began Big Ten play last (Friday) night hosting third-ranked Illinois and was humbled in five sets, drawing first blood and tying the match by snatching the fourth set. It seems to have been a hard-fought match, but I believe a Top 10 team, and one harboring postseason ambitions, should be able to win such games against excellent opponents at home. Now do you think the U. can win the return match in Champaign October 29?

The squad host Northwestern Sunday afternoon, then being a four-match road trip at Ohio St. Friday.

#-5: Vikings (Last Week: -5). I was at the Metrodome to see the ViQueens' awful, stomach-churning yet predictable second-half choke job against Tampa Bay. And yet I don't think I've ever seen a Vikings team blow halftime leads that large in back-to-back games. But they followed up their second-half no-show in San Diego with a similar disinterested brown-out as the Buccaneers were able to catch them, then move past them with the winning touchdown. There were many low points to fixate over; I think the beginning of the end for the team was when Tampa Bay recovered in onside kick.

For the first time in a long time, Detroit comes in as Vegas' favorite over the Vikes. They're right, and that'll be proven Sunday afternoon.

#-6: Twins (Last Week: -7). Yay, Rene Tosoni drove in the winning run and now the 11-game losing streak is over! I feel a late September surge coming on!! We're coming, we're coming!!!

OK, never mind. They still are, like, seven games behind Kansas City for worst record in the American League Central. They are, far and away, the worst team in the American League. And it looks like they'll get the second pick in the MLB draft because only Houston has a sorrier record this year.

An indicator of the injury bug that has plagued this team for the entire year: On the car caravan to the airport right after that dramatic win, Denard Span rear-ended Danny Valencia and his fiancee. They were benched for tonight's (last night's) loss at Cleveland. You fucking kidding me?

The only thing -- the only thing -- to look forward to the rest of the season is to see the Twinks breaking 100 losses for only the second time in franchise history. They have to go .500, 3-3, to avoid the century mark. Will they do it and avoid a wincing, embarrassing record? They have three games left at Cleveland this weekend (there's a doubleheader Saturday; the day game is a make-up for the rainout on August 14), then they finally finish this Shit Season To Forget with three games at home against Kansas City.

I'm Sorry, But I Still Have To Talk About The Store

Today I stayed for about 45 minutes, and that was with me staying 15 minutes after Father said I could go. He said it was busy in the morning, but there was one person who was there when I came in, which is one more than had been there previous days, of which I chronicled on this blog.

I was lucky to come in at all. Because I was late for this new work I found, what I thought was a call to Father at around 2 was one around 2:30. This would actually be so late that Father would tell me not to even bother to come. But when I called him, he didn't pick up, so I just went to the store.

What I saw was more closing up, I'm afraid. More stuff is on carts on the three aisles and in the back. I thought I saw Father doing inventory when I came in. I saw he wrote prices on boxes, and they were priced to move. At least he hasn't turned off any freezers. Yet.

---

One of the things I was determined to do was to prune as much of the lilac bushes as I could. I could use the non-compostable plastic bags to dump the branches in and have Father take them to the dumpster. I should have done it yesterday, but I didn't due to a combination of cloudy, drizzly weather and my laziness.

I was determined to do some of it today. I don't have much time left; if I'm right about the drop dead date for the store, I had today and have Friday, Saturday and Monday before my trip. Since I was late today and the weather was still crummy, I got around to pruning at 6, right after a well-needed nap and before I headed off to the Lynx game. I cut down a huge branch, but it was only one of three or four I had sliced off the bushes. Still, I was able to fill up a bag that I had been saving for a couple weeks; now that it was full, I could put it and a huge root outside for Father to put in the minivan to dump in the store's dumpster.

Well, I come home from the game tonight to see the bag and the branch still out in front, resting against the vinyl siding of the house. Does that mean that he has already ended dumpster service to the store? If that's so ... well, for one thing, that means my plan of pruning the brushes is done. I got through some, but I'm by no means done. And if the branches can't be put in the dumpster, why do it?

But moreover, it's yet another sign that the store is closing. Today and yesterday ... maybe it's the shitty weather, but I feel its end coming close. Real close. And while some days I was OK with it, and even felt good about it, I feel this overwhelming sense of dread over it the past 48 hours. Regardless of my parents' actions and/or their motives, which may be true and right; I am about to lose something this family had, and that has been weighing on my mind for the past couple of days. I can feel it slipping away, and that change is something I haven't come to grips with, don't think I will ever come to grips with, and, frankly, don't want to come to grips with.

Realized something tonight: What Father gave me to give my aunt and uncle had a feeling of finality to it. I have delivered things to them before, but not in a long time. This, with the store closing, felt like the last time he would do these things. I mean, if Father gave his brother the title, and if he gave them both money, well, those are big things, and the only reason he would give them big things is if he knew it would be the last thing he would give them.

I went downstairs to get a can of Pepsi a few hours ago. There, I saw the plates and spoons I saw my parents bring from the store a few days ago. Bringing them home before shutting it down for good.

It was cold and cloudy today. Even though I prefer this kind of weather, today only enhances the starkness of me and my family's future. I feel an emptiness tonight, mostly because of the store. Like there will be an end to the year, so will there be an end to the only workplace this family has known. And tonight, I am very, very sad and depressed.

The End is coming even sooner than I thought it would.

The Death Of The Store Is Now Very Close

Got back to working at the store today. One of Father's employees, the one he likes and trusts more, was in the back with a truck.

However, Father sent me home in order to give some food to my aunt (his sister) and the title of a minivan to my uncle (his brother). "He has to change the name," he said ... "because (name of store) will be no more."

Another ominous sign.

A Note So I Can Free Up Some Slots In My Voicemail Inbox

My supervisor texted me 12 times over the weekend I helped with figure skating back on the weekend of March 4-6, 2010. They were messages 45-56 in my inbox. Deleted every one except the first text she sent me.

She also sent me a text on August 12 when I worked for her on baseball that weekend. Am keeping that for now.

The Reason I'm Stripclubbin' Tuesday Instead Of Friday

What I'm seeing in my head is so complicated I should've diagrammed it.

So I leave on vacation next week, and because the store is closing soon, I feel the need to hit My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Edition) once before Father starts hanging out at home all day. If it's closing by the end of the month -- the month is more than half over, my God -- I have to do it this week because I come back on the 1st.

But which day? I have the following stipulations:

• I still work at the lab, which gives me a maximum of three days.
• I have found more work doing another study, which is two days.
• I want to help out at the store at least three days.
• I obviously have to carve out a day to go to the club (it's downtown, so I go by bus).
• I want to have free a second day to go see a movie. Which means, of course, that there's a day at the club, a day at the movies, and three days at the store.

The puzzle comes in the complicating factors. The lab is two hours a day, but this new work is one. Also, this new "job" has only some times available on Thursday. There's also the possibility that I finish that up on Monday. Furthermore, I don't want to shell out extra cash for movies because it's so damn expensive, so the best day to go is Tuesday (when popcorn's only two bucks).

Finally, the club. Paramount is not getting caught. So, which time should I go? I have dancers that may or may not be working some days. I looked at the Twins' schedule to see which dates they are at home ... then realized that no one might be going because they suck donkey dick. Finally, I look at the weather forecast. I prefer to go during raw, cloudy, cold days because I think there will be less people walking around, therefore less of chance I get spotted.

What I decided on late last week was: To work at the lab Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday; go to this other study Thursday and next Monday (where I would go in early that morning, then go to the lab before hitting the store because it'd be my only time that week at the store -- and potentially the last day I would ever be there ... shudder), see a movie after "work" Tuesday and have the Friday to Free Willy.

I hate puzzles like this, in particular ones where I have a series of choices that are all palatable but don't stand out from one another. None of them are perfect, so I can't say, "Shit, let's do it this way!" After several days of lolling the possibilities in my head, I just decided on that. I wish I had more restrictions than the ones I have, something like, "Well, I can't work these days," or "I can't go this day because my co-workers are gonna be there." I have too many choices. It's like having freedom. Sometimes it's just too damn much.

But, as is my wont, I've changed it. I've started regretting my original schedule late last week, when I realized that I earned a ticket for free popcorn. And then I was afraid that the people I will be working with Sunday will fly into town and, for some reason, be going to a stripclub Friday afternoon. Could happen. And I checked the forecast; it's supposed to be windy tomorrow but sunny Friday. Now, if you worked downtown, would you walk outside on a sunny day? How about a windy one? That's my thinking.

So, even though the Twins are playing at home tomorrow evening, I'm going to the club tomorrow. I moved my lab job to Friday, and since I'm at the U., I might as well pull my visit to the other job from next Monday to Friday as well. I figure I can use the free popcorn coupon after I'm done with my jobs; my parents come home late these days, so I guess I could see a late afternoon movie and come home well before dinner. I decided all this, oh, last night.

The one drawback I had is that I wanted to go to a club on Friday because Mother goes to the store on Fridays. I won't have to regret going to the club when I should be at the store. But in the end, the reasons I outlined above outweigh that.

But, as they say about best laid plans. ... Late last night they asked me what time am I working tomorrow. I kind of forgot myself, but my first instinct was to lie, so I said 10. They needed my help in delivering something, and Father still doesn't have a car, so shit, I have to get up early. That was alleviated by the fact that I got up so early yesterday morning that I passed out watching the Sunday night football game and woke up at 2:30, so I could get up early this morning without a problem. But I'd probably be wiped out once I was done mid-morning, so I e-mailed my "job" to see if he could push back my session an hour ... which means there wasn't much use to go to the store today like I planned. Hey, he probably would send me home anyway, and I did an hour of work for him already. But what was supposed to be three days helping out at the store became, if you want to take a jaundiced eye, two.

And about an hour ago Father called me. He wanted me to pick up medicine, but I know he wanted help back at the store. I told him I was still working; in all honesty, I'm blogging this at a coffeeshop close to home.

And about a half-hour ago I realized that tickets on Friday at the theater I want to go to are a buck more than they would be on Tuesday. There goes watching a film on the cheap. Whoops.

Just finished blogging about ripping my pants open. I started it on Friday, so it's dated Friday. I don't know why I didn't publish it; the post was done, and only when reviewing it while asking myself why didn't I publish this did I add a phrase. Enjoy.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Lynx (Last Week: Positive Numbers). Goddamn, that was too fucking close. The Jynx began their first foray into the WNBA postseason in seven years by nipping the San Antonio Silver Stars, 66-65, in the first game of their best-of-3 first-round series.

They should have lost this game, but San Antone did all they could to give it back to Minnesota, and in the end, the Silver Stars' poor play was worse than the Lynx's. Maya Moore and Rebekkas Brunson both missed a pair of free throws late that would have salted the game away. Instead, a lay-up by Seimone Augustus with just under a minute left was the last field goal scored in this turgid, sloppy mess of a game. What actually sealed the game was Lindsay Whalen tipping a San Antonio inbounds pass with about four seconds left to go, a deflection that Moore got possession of.

I was wrong about Whalen -- sort of. I didn't think her body would hold up to the rigors of the WNBA season as well as her time playing for a team in the Czech Republic. But I did think that the Lynx's fortunes would go down the drain as soon as she goes down with an injury. Does the contrapositive prove my theory? With her fully healthy, or at least able to play every game, she has become the star by which all the other players revolve around. Moore, Brunson, Augustus and Taj McWilliams-Franklin may have been my picks to be team Most Valuable Player through the season, but right now, it's Whalen. And the momentum for her to be league MVP is picking up steam. Her 20-point contribution tonight, in which she carried the team on her back for their awful-shooting first half, is killer evidence of that.

If they lose, not only would it be more salt on the wound of suck this state is experiencing sports-wise -- I'd be throwing shit on the ground shouting, "Is there no one in this fucking town able to not fucking suck, goddammit???" -- it would render the postseason individual awards that have started to trickle in perfectly useless. For now, let's congratulate Moore on being runaway (and pre-ordained) Rookie Of The Year and Cheryl Reeve for being Coach Of The Year.

Oh, by the way, they finished a perfect 2-0 for this screening week; they also won at Phoenix by six points to end the regular season Sunday at 27-7, best in the league. Sunday they have Game 2 in San Antonio; if it must be, Game 3 is here Tuesday. Win that, and the Western Conference Finals begin Thursday.

#-2: Gopher women's volleyball (Last Week: 0). They win the Clarion Inn-Vitational ... and yet they get upset by Kansas? That's the one loss in their 1-1 week, a puzzling performance where the breaks went the Jayhawks' way as the Goofs lose the first two sets. They rebound to win the next two, but lose 15-12 in the fifth.

Because of that, they slip three spots from 6 to 9 in the latest AVCA Top 25 poll. They finish their non-conference schedule this weekend with their fourth and final tournament, the Marquette Tournament in Milwaukee. They play Middle Tennessee St. tonight (Saturday night), then play the host Golden Eagles Sunday afternoon. They then begin Big Ten play hosting Illinois (currently third in the nation) Friday night.

#-3: Timberwolves (Re-Entry!). It is sad that a woebegone team like the Woofs would be so high up on the WMNSS for something not related to a game. But that's what the Twin Cities sports scene looks like: As bad as the American economy.

I like the hire of Rick Adelman as new coach of the Wolves. He is, like, the eighth-winningest coach in NBA history, and he guided the Sacramento Kings during the first part of the 0-0's, the halcyon, Chris Webber-Vlade Divac days when the franchise the best it's ever been, so he knows what the fuck he's doing.

But this report saying that Adelman was hired because of the efforts of Owner Glen Taylor, not General Manager David Kahn, troubles the shit out of me. You mean to tell me Rick Adelman willingly enters a situation where he hates and possibly gets to ignore the directions of his boss? And how in the hell will he avoid talking to him during a season? Kahn's in charge of the contracts of the players Adelman will coach; do you think he can just go around Kahn and talk to Taylor, especially when the questions he'll ask are ones the owner isn't supposed to be able to answer? How in the hell will that work?

One would say, who cares? Well, I don't think this is a done deal yet. If it were, tell me this, then: Where and when is the press conference announcing the hiring of Adelman? All we're getting are press releases from the team, and I don't think they've been confirmed on Adelman's side. There's a lot more shit that's going to happen with this coaching situation.

---

The following five teams did not win a single game this week. How fucking pathetic:

#-4: Gopher women's soccer (Last Week: -2). One game, and they choked it away. They had the lead late 9/11 afternoon at DePaul, but then Ashleigh Goddard flipped the ball into the net in Minute 84 to tie the match, and then Sarah Gorden slalomed her way through the Goofs' defense and slipped the ball past Goalie Cat Parkhill for a 2-1 overtime defeat. The team now sits at 3-5 entering conference play. They begin that portion of their sked by hosting Ohio St. Sunday afternoon.

#-5: Vikings (Re-Entry!). Another pissaway by the ViQueens -- man, you guys are still so interesting, don't ever change!!! They had a 17-7 lead at halftime partly on the strength of Percy Harvin's 103-yard game-opening kickoff return for touchdown through a historically shaky San Diego special teams. But then Donovan McNabb couldn't hold up his end of the offensive attack, passing for only a measly 39 yards, and the Chargers made adjustments at the half. Matt Tolbert had three TD's in their 24-17, come-from-behind win -- great for my fantasy team, sucks for the Vikes.

I'm not too low on them, choke aside: Unlike all the hype surrounding the team by those that either work for or have access to them, I'm certain the Vikings are not a Super Bowl contender, and in fact they're probably closer to rebuilding mode. And that's OK from a fan's prospective. Leslie Frazier in his first year as Head Coach. This season should be a mulligan. If McNabb has another atrocious performance like he did last week in this week's game, Sunday afternoon versus Tampa Bay at the Dome, Frazier should bench or cut his ass. Stick Christian Ponder or even Joe Webb in there. They may not win, but you'll have plenty of repetitions to see if either of them has the snuff to be a Quarterback in the NFL.

#-6: Gopher football (Last Week: -1). Head Coach Jerry Kill's seizure is a part of the reason why I'm putting the Goofs gridironers down here, although it's not a major one. It just kind of sucks whenever the leader of a team you're rooting for looks like he's fighting to survive. It seems like bad luck, and I account for bad luck in the WMNSS.

But I'm glad he's feeling better, even though I think coaching the team on the sidelines for this (Saturday) afternoon's game against Miami (OH) may be pushing it. Hopefully he'll have enough strength to address why and how in the hell did this BcS school lose to New Mexico St. last Saturday, a team oddsmakers gave 20-1 points to? I said last week that if he were a good coach, they would cover that spread. He may have been so stressed that they're getting upset at home by a low-major school that the he seized up.

Like the Vikings, I'm giving the Gophers a pass this season. I don't think a team can win a Mythical National Championship in a man's first year. So those things being equal, I put lower the team that lost to the worse team. That's why the Gophers are under the Vikings.

#-7: Twins (Last Week: -3). There are few more boring sights in sports than watching a baseball team out of playoff contention finish a regular season. That's because the only useful thing the organization can do at that point is to play the young players from their minor league squads on the expanded major league squad so they can get a head start on who can and cannot play. That means you're introduced to players who you had no idea the team had. You don't even know these people existed. Guys like Joe Benson, who last night was a home run short of the cycle. And I'm like, "Who the fuck is Joe Benson, and why is Fox Sports North promoting a guy who probably won't make the team next year?"

Friend of mine tweeted from Target Field last night. He wondered if there were more people at the Lynx playoff game across the way at Target Center. If there wasn't, there should. Why anybody would pay money to see a shit team, who went winless (0-6) this past week, who has won only twice in September, is beyond me, frankly. That's exacerbated by the weather, which has turned raw and was in the forties or fifties last night. An outdoor stadium doesn't seem to be so nice now, huh? (I heard on a KFAN broadcast some time during the State Fair that the crowd watching the show would rather see a shitty team on a sunny day outdoors than a good team inside a domed stadium. Those people are fucking idiots.)

Morneau's not coming back because of concussions, and he's now scared for his career. Nishioka has some injury and he's been shut down. And Mauer? Mr. Bilateral Weakness has come down with pneumonia now -- sure -- so if two weeks to go, he might as well just stop playing too. This team, a team that was supposed to contend in the postseason, a team Minnesota taxpayers gave a $545 million stadium just two years ago, might lose 100 games for only the second time in franchise history.

A fucking scam and a goddamn joke.

Cleveland this weekend, then they fly to New York for a make-up game Monday against the Yankees (it's important because the Evil Empire needs this game), then fly back home so the scrubs can host Seattle, then fly to Cleveland for the final weekend (and road) series.

#-Infinity: Saints (New!). I should sue these fuckers for false advertising. Their slogan for this season was, "We Won't Break Your Heart." Well, they goddamn did.

There are now three divisions in the American Association, and the St. Paul Saints got into the AA postseason as the Wild Card. They upset the team they finished behind in the division, Winnipeg (they had the home-field advantage despite finishing with a worse record, for some fuckin' reason), and had a 2-0 lead in the Championship Series against Grand Prairie. But then they had to go to the Dallas exurb for Game 3 through 5. All they needed was one win, just one fucking win. But they couldn't do it; they lost 3-2 Saturday, 10-3 Sunday, and 8-5 Monday, and thus they choked away their first championship since 2004. Like I said, this state needs a winner. Apparently the Saints weren't up to it. They're losers like all the rest.

I was at Thursday's Game 2, the last game at Midway Stadium, where the Saints were down to the AirHogs 2-0 before coming back to win 5-2. I caught the beginning of the game behind the third-base fence. Guess who was sitting with the relievers in the bullpen? Actor Bill Murray, who co-owns this and several other minor league teams. First thing he said after the first pitch, before a less-than-half-full crowd: "Come on, you got to call it both ways!" Funny. Later he walked around the ballpark, talking and posing for photos with fans and just enjoying himself. That's great to see a huge movie star so close -- and I'm so glad he didn't beat anybody up.

Made A Small Rip In My Pants Last Week

These are my back-up porno pants, the orange-taupe ones that are similar to my main green porno pants. They are made of the same silky material, have a drawstring and have snap button flies -- the better to surreptitiously take out your cock for lap dances. I prefer my green ones because the fly is wider so I don't have to take so much time fishing out my pee-pee. But since I bought the orange-taupe one after the green one, it's holding up better. I sometimes wear that one to stripclubs as a change-of-pace thing, but one day it's going to have to replace the green one, which is getting old and ripped up. And unfortunately, for the life of me, I can't find any similar pants anywhere. They're not just good for extras, they're good to wear in general.

Well, anyway, last week I was wearing them when I was in the backyard pruning the lilac bushes. Father said that for the big branches I should use the big saws in the garage. My pruning shears and hand saw seemed to work just fine, but I didn't want to start a fight if I was still working in the back when he came home and saw me just using the tools I wanted to use. So I went to the garage and got the handsaws. They're on those holders that go into our peg board, the kind you see at the Target check-out lanes holding gum and batteries, you know? And they've been weighed down so heavily by the saws that they're bending to the point of not being able to hold them up. Just an observation.

I bring both of them up the stairs. But as I was holding them I heard a "rip." I look down. I was not holding the saws with a lot of, um, "caution." Meanwhile I was walking up the stairs with a certain level of ... confidence. And I guess I was swinging the saw too close to my pants, and several teeth gouged it around my left knee. Saw some scrapes, but there was a tear, about an inch or two long, at the knee.

Well, shit. I was practically despondent at this. These are my porno pants, man. I can't just throw them into a corner after a day of use. They'll have cum on it, the results of a fruitful afternoon of handjobbin'. They'll need to be washed. And all of a sudden these ghastly images of my poor, poor orange-taupe porno pants in the wash form in my head. It zooms in on the rip, which, because of the vigorous wash cycle, gets bigger, and bigger, and bigger. Finally, one day in the not-too-distant future, there's a tear up and down the left leg. I guess it'd make it even easier to access my dick, but those pants would have the appearance of those 80's jeans that are torn up everywhere. And since I can't find a replacement, Grandmother will use them as a rag.

So Monday I ran into my aunt. She can sew. I ask her to repair the tear in my porno pants (although she doesn't know I call them porno pants). She said yes. She generally does a good job, can't complain. But I know that my careless errors has forever altered the life of these loyal pants. A stitch will sacrifice itself before the wear-and-tear of life, but that will unravel, and then it's just the tear against the world, again, and the tear will have no chance.

Today At The Store

Today at the store, Father mopped the floor. And I saw a bunch of feather dusters, at least the feather duster paper wrappers, in the dumpster.

And in my hour of "working" there, no customer came.

I took a quick glance up. I'm proud of the Old Lady. I wouldn't mind opening her up every day, even if no one would come in. Well, I felt that today, at least.

More ominous signs?

The Evacuation Order Between Piss And Shit

So I was sent home with the plastic jug and ordered to collect all the urine I was going to eject from my body till I come in this morning. I either learned or was reminded of something on the way home: When you eat a lot, you have to take a dump real bad. And when you combine that with a long period of inactivity, there's a chance that dump becomes really liquid and really violent.

I wanted to hang out and work on my laptop a little more at a coffeeshop, but I forget that no mom-and-pop shops take American Express. (Mental note: Research why.) The one I go to -- or at least go to until, recently, maybe I'll blog about it -- let me stay and drink water. So generous, and I took them up on their offer. But after about a half-hour and realizing that I could still make it back home in time to watch the Kimmel monologue, I felt a rumbling in my bowels. It's one of those kinds of rumblings, if you know what I mean.

I hate taking a shit in a public restroom, so I did my best to tell myself, "You can do this, you can hold this in" as I briskly walked to my car and drove (around 65 so as not to incur a speeding ticket like I did in fuckin' St. Louis, thank you) back home. I was worried that Father would see me carrying in a big brown bag (in which I put the plastic bag in which the plastic jug was in so as not to arouse attention) and my pajamas in the house. He stayed downstairs on the Internet, so I burst upstairs.

I went to my bedroom before going to the bathroom, and that's when I realized my dilemma. I still need to collect my pee, but how in the hell am I going to do that when I have all this feces coming out of me? I can't do it staying up, of course. But how will I get the jug around my thing in the middle of my bowel movement? I pantomimed the scene of me on the toilet in my head, and it was awkward. But then there was another surge of pain in my gut, so I had to go to the bathroom, jug in hand.

What I did was sit up in the front of the toilet so my penis would hang on the edge of the seat. I would still shit into the water, thank God, but I would have to bring the jug in sideways in order to pee into it. And then I got all these bad images of the urine spilling onto me and the floor because I accidentally tipped the jar down and then peeing all over the floor because I recoiled from the pee from the jug -- the things in my head were just awful.

So what I had to do was tip over on one side. I was answering the call of nature on my right thigh as I hung my left thigh in the air. That gave me the downward hang I would need to make sure gravity would carry my piss out of my urethra and into the jug. That was the only way I felt secure enough to collect the sample without getting it all over me. But you should've seen the tableau: Me, in the middle of a violent bowel movement, at a 45-degree angle, trying to stick my dick through this plastic orange carton. Not proud.

I think I got most of it, but I was surprised that not a whole lot came out. It was coming out through my anus, that's for damn sure, but not through the front. I felt like it had to come out on both ends, but at the end I produced just a puddle of semen. Then I remembered I had thought this before, that you seem to piss or shit, but not at the same time. I have had bowel movements in the past where I'm waiting for the feces to come out of my rectum, and once it does, you start to pee. I imagine I could look inside my body, and then I imagine seeing my large intestine and rectum, and seeing my fecal matter inbetween pockets of piss.

And that's how I see the reason of shitting and pissing whenever I have an attack like this. I can only do one or the other because they both come through the large intestine, and obviously you can only eject one thing at a time. Of course, that's not how the body works: The shit comes out through the intestine but the piss goes through the kidney and bladder. I may still not be able to piss and shit simultaneously, but it's not because they come through the same body part. Maybe it's because the body can't take stuff coming out of it in two places at once.

---

I felt the same diarrhea attack this morning after having coffee after dropping off my first jug of pee (just over 650 mL overnight, in which I slept just soon after I got home at 12:30 or so, way more than the 525 mL I pissed out during my 12-hour stay at the hospital yesterday -- weird, I think). Once again I struggled to get my little man into the jug without tipping the whole thing over, and once again I pissed very, very little. But I got so tired of being on my thigh that I just sat there and eased my cock over the edge of the seat and into the mouth of the jug -- slowly, like a camel's nose into a tent. This is no way to collect a sample, but this morning I didn't care. This attack was so bad I almost shit my pants as I reached the bathroom.

I get to do this 11 more times. What I do in the name of science -- and employment.

The Most Interesting Study I'm Ever Been A Part Of

Right now I am currently in a hospital room. I have a needle stuck up my arm, from which nurses have been drawing blood all day, a total of eight times, I think. I got here a bit after 9 this morning, and I will be here till a bit past 9 tonight.

But no, I'm not sick. They are taking my blood and urine after I took a pill when I began my study ... "period" this morning. The plastic jug of piss is chillin' in the mini-fridge. But, besides the dull pain from the injection site, things are good. I'm part of a study monitoring my effluvia after consuming pills. I get paid four figures if I complete the whole study -- five more of these 12-hour visits and a dozen more visits where I take home a plastic jug to pee in overnight to deliver back to them in the morning over a period of the next half-year.

I'm blogging right now on a hospital table that comes right up to my lap. I'm watching free cable right now. Dinner's coming soon. And I'm in my pajamas. All of this -- and I am getting paid to do it!

I've never done something like this before, taking a whole day to hang out at a hospital. I've seen many studies where you can go to a place where they give you drugs and they monitor you overnight, sometimes over a weekend. You can get thousands of dollars for it. I think that's also good work if you can get it, but I don't think my parents would like the fact that I'm a guinea pig. They'll tell me I should use my brain to make money, not my body. Hey, I ain't gettin' blown by some repressed dude. Plus, this is for SCIENCE!!! (Well, it's also probably for some pharmaceutical company to make millions, but this is the power dynamic we live under under capitalism.)

The problem is hiding the jug I have to take home tonight and tomorrow night. Whenever I pee the next 48 hours, I pee into that. I just hope no one in the family gets curious at the bag (I don't know what type I'll put the jug in to make it look innocuous) overnight and opens it. "What the fuck is this??? I just drank your pee!!!"

Trying To Prepare Myself For That Asshole On Sunday

Five days before I start my seasonal job and, potentially, run into the son-of-a-bitch who threw a temper tantrum and threatened to have my fired. It's been almost a year and I still think of that prick. I haven't been attacked that way in a long, long time (well, outside of family), and I am not going to just let that slide.

But I don't know what to expect. What if I run into him and he starts bullying me again? Will I stand up for myself? What if he then threatens to fire me again? Or, what happens if he ignores me. I know I'll be thinking, "What's wrong with you, you motherfucker? Don't you recognize me as the guy you picked on last season?? You afraid of me, you piece of shit??? Let's go!" Worst of all, maybe, what if he talks to me like he didn't threaten to take my job from me? Will I just act like we just met for the first time, or will I see that as my opportunity to really lay into him, and maybe even pick a fight? I know what I want to do, but I don't know if it's the right thing to do.

This sucks, being the low man on the totem pole. This bastard isn't even that high up on me, but because he is, he thinks he can push me around. And because my company needs stuff from his company, there ain't a whole lot I can fuckin' do. But I've got to stand up for myself. At the risk of losing my job, however? Well shit, that's the rub, ain't it?

So I don't know what to expect from that asswipe. And therefore I can't really prepare how I'm going to conduct myself in a way that walks the fine line between doing my job and letting him know I'm not a pushover. I love the job I get to start again Sunday, I really do. But I might have to lose it because some jerkoff wants to pull rank because he thinks he can. Goddamn, I might have to face the possibility I'm gonna punch the little bitch in his fuckin' fat face on my way to jail.

Had A Nightmare This Evening

Want to put this down before I forget:

I was in the bathroom with my Grandmother; I think I was taking a bath while she was on the toilet. I saw food everywhere. And then I saw rats -- lots and lots and lots of rats. I complained that Grandmother leaves and spills food everywhere, and that's why there are so many rats in the bathroom. Grandmother says, "OK, OK, OK."

I believe that nightmares are a combination of things that happened to us during the day and our fears, mashed against each other like a Cubist painting. Grandmother keeps a lot of food in her room and often leaves it out on the kitchen counter. And we have been catching rats in the garage and the shed (which reminds me that there is a glue trap with three dead rat carcasses sitting next to the garage freezer for weeks now). Finally, I have been yelling at Grandmother to take her insulin shots, and she shuts down the conversation by saying, "OK."

So why was I naked in a bathtub with my Grandmother on the toilet? Fuck if I know.

Follow-Up To My 9/11 Memory

I had always planned on coming back to Minnesota after my internship in El Paso. I booked a round-trip ticket when I learned I got the job. I think I used my Continental OnePass miles for the round-trip, legs about 6 1/2 months apart.

I think I thought about changing my return flights (I think they stopped in Houston) because of 9/11 for a fleeting moment. But in the end I called the night before (maybe) to confirm my flight.

I was still very nervous about boarding a plane and I told that to the Continental switch operator: "I have to tell you, that although I am very nervous about getting on a plane after what happened, I will do my best to ... uh, keep a stiff upper lip and just get on the plane and trust ... people." OK, I have no idea if that is what I actually said. But I stammered out something about being scared but braving my flight back home.

You would think the person on the other end, an employee working for an airline, an industry that was devastated to its core less than a week ago, would at least be sympathetic. But I don't think the bitch on the other end of the line said anything. So I said thank you and she may or may not have said goodbye.

That woman was probably happen the Twin Towers were struck and fell. Hate her to this day for not assuaging my fears. Shit, not even an, "I understand?" Fuck you, lady. Hope you're dead.

So I helped out at the store today -- thought about not going because Father dismissed me after 15 minutes on Thursday -- and what do I see? Father packing a bunch of scratch-off tickets, most of them big because they were barely bought, into a bag.

Now later I saw him preparing to return a couple packets and activating one. I checked the numbers; the ones he's returning a lot older than the one he activated, so that's cool. Still, I don't think there's a starker indication the store's closing than cutting off the lottery machine. Once he does that -- man, I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do.

Where Was I Ten Years Ago?

I was in El Paso, interning for the minor league baseball team there. I was running late, as usual, but I didn't think it'd be bad this time of the year because the season was over.

When I drove over to the stadium, I usually put on the local spots-talk radio station. This time around the host was talking about the Twin Towers for some reason, and he was doing so in a somewhat concerned but more distracted manner. I thought something happened to David Robinson and/or Tim Duncan, the two big men and best players on the San Antonio Spurs at the time and referred to as "The Twin Towers."

When I got up to the office of the stadium on the second floor and headed to my office in the corner of the lobby, I didn't see anybody. What I usually did was check the break room to see if there was any free food laid out. What I saw instead was everybody in the front office, looking up at the TV. I joined them.

I looked up and saw, I believe, rubble and people running and screaming. A few minutes later, I saw the replay of, I think, the first plane hitting the first tower. And I thought, Oh my God.

I don't remember doing anything productive the rest of the day. There wasn't a whole to do since the season was over, but I think I spent half of my workday watching the TV. When I was at my desk I called my parents (got Mother; she was her somewhat diffident self: "Oh my God, did you see that? They're all dead. We're all scared") and tried to call my best friend living in Manhattan. Later, either for work, just because I wanted to or an attempt to call him again, I finally reached him, almost half a day after the planes hit the World Trade Center. And although my heart still goes out to all those who lost a loved one that day, I knew then that my world remained intact.

Ten years. Ten fucking years since 9/11. Can you believe it?

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

Positive Numbers: Lynx (Last Week: -2). Eight out of nine and ten out of twelve ain't bad. This team is rolling right now, having won both games of their screening week. They avenged their 16-point home loss to New York by going to Manhattan and destroying the Liberty at their place, 86-68. A vicious side to a team that wants to send a message: That's a sign of a championship squad that wants to win it all.

I was erroneous in last week's WMNSS: They had already sown up home-court advantage throughout the WNBA Playoffs when they were drubbed by New York. In fact, their first-round opponent has been determined: The San Antonio Silver Stars, whom the Lynx swept in all four of their meetings this year, the first two of which by late-game buckets by Minnesota. The been-there-beaten-that mentality should help them win the best-of-three series. Then again, maybe San Antone is due for a win or two? Anyway, that series starts Friday. The regular season ends for the team Sunday at Phoenix.

#0: Gopher women's volleyball (Last Week: -1). After dropping their season-opener to USC after being up by two sets, they have not lost since. And they haven't even dropped a set so far this month. The more impressive of their two wins was Saturday's sweep of then-#4 Texas. With the Gophers' 3-0 win the night before, Texas got swept in back-to-back games for the first time in almost 11 years. They were rewarded by moving in the AVCA Top 25 from 11 to 6, then followed up that historic weekend by going to Cedar Falls, Iowa and beating Saint Louis 3-0 last (Friday) night. They finish up the Clarion Inn-vitational (clever name ... nah, it's stupid) with a Saturday doubleheader: Kansas in the morning then host Northern Iowa in the evening.

#-1: Gopher football (Re-Entry!). First of all, my alma mater, USC, does not deserve the 25 ranking they were given before the season began. The defense remains a work in progress, and their offense, even though they're led by talented quarterback Matt Barkley, does not have the dynamic explosiveness of the Matt Leinart/Reggie Bush years. Besides, they have underwhelmed (read: failed to cover the huge spreads Las Vegas sportsbooks routinely give them) for years now, not just since the Bush Scandal brought down the Pete Carroll Era at the school and ushered in a new Dark Ages.

The line for their season opener against Minnesota last Saturday was 24. The Gophs were given 24 points. I know that there's a huge talent gap on that team, but you know what? Although I think Lane Kiffin's a good guy and I have to stand by him because he is a native Minnesotan, before his first fucking game I felt that Jerry Kill would outcoach him. And he did.

Marqueis Gray's in-game injury meant that freshman backup Max Shortell would be given the chance to shine. And he matched Gray's output, despite being a pro-style drop-back passer (in contrast to the "athletic" Gray). And if it wasn't for his freshman mistake, an interception by the Trojans' Torin Harris even though he was being shoved to the ground, the Gophers had a very good chance of marching down and kicking the field goal to win. Moral victories are for losers, but that's what this program is and has been for the better part of a century, so there is good that can come from this 19-17 defeat.

The real test of Kill's ability to harness and direct talent comes this (Saturday) afternoon, where they face New Mexico St. in the Gophers' home opener. (Quick aside: I lived in El Paso a decade ago. [Aside aside: My last week there was the week of 9-11.] I had a Saturday to kill, so I drove the 45 minutes west to Las Cruces, N.M., to see the Aggies host Oregon St., which was ranked in the Top 10 when they visited. NMSU had their chances, but the Beavers won by, like, two scores or something.) The line is 20 1/2. If Kill is as good as advertised, he covers that spread and beats the Aggies by at least three touchdowns.

#-2: Gopher women's soccer (Last Week: -3). Wow, this team definitely won't get into the NCAA Tournament this year. Sunday afternoon they lost again, this time to Milwaukee (presumably formerly UW-Milwaukee) 1-0. This despite outshooting the Panthers 23-10 and having a dozen shots on goal to their 4. A goal in the 76th minute ensured that the Goofs would finish 0-2 in the Minnesota Gold Classic -- the tournament they host. Is this the first time they've gone winless in their own tourney?

Well, at least they beat Illinois St. on the road last (Friday) night, 1-0 on a goal in the 79th minute. That broke a two-game losing streak. The team, now 3-4, finish the non-conference part of their schedule by going to Chicago and playing Depaul the afternoon of 9/11 (that's Sunday, in case you don't know).

#-3: Twins (Last Week: -4). 1-6 for the week. Five losses in a row, their sole victory Wednesday, then they go out to Detroit last (Friday) night and lose. They got swept by Chicago in their special weather postponement-created Labor Day Doubleheader 6-1.

Have they been eliminated yet? They probably already have -- like, back in June. And none of the starters are playing. Fuck this team.

This week: Finishing at Tigers, a midweek two-game set at Kansas City (what the fuck is with these two-game series? There's one more of these weirdo games in the final month of the regular season?? I thought there were, like, only two of them in May and that's it), then hosting Cleveland.

More Store Shenanigans

Yesterday I resolved to get to the store earlier, and I did -- at 1:30, by a half-hour. But after about 15, 20 minutes, My Father tells me to leave. He wants me to change our phone plan, but he says there's "no business" at the store, and he says I can leave if I want. I feel weird if I just ignored him and stayed. But I did have to change plans (by the way, I had enough time in the afternoon to drive out to a suburb to look through porn -- damn, I haven't done that in a long time!), and so I might as well leave at 1:45.

This week My Father didn't have to do anything in the back. Once again, this day I did not see anyone come in, even in my short time there. Maybe what he needed to do in the back, and thus necessitating someone to mind the front of the store, is done. One more connection to the store being severed as it closes.

Look, I don't want to work at the store. But, I want to help My Father. And I want to make sure we ring out the store on a good note. I will go down with this ship! And I'm sorry if my tardiness conveys the message that I don't want to be there. My intention is to be there; I just feel kind of ... oogy being there. Don't push me away, Father. I hate being pushed away, not at the moment the store needs support the most, not when I need the store the most. Why are you pushing me away?

Meanwhile, today Grandmother (completely forgetting that I bitched her out the night before) was gossiping again. She told me that Mother told her (I think, either she told her or Grandmother just overheard her talking to Father) that they have no money. I hope Grandmother's wrong. Because I don't need to hear that the family is now poor. I can't deal with that after hearing the store's closing.

I Put My Foot Down In Front Of Grandmother

I just got into a huge argument with Grandmother. She called me while I was out tonight, then knocked on my bedroom door, because she wanted my help, again, to call her son in Hong Kong because he sent money to her bank. She wanted me to tell her son the name of the bank because she was afraid that if he didn't get it right, the money would be sent back to him.

This is where the story gets confusing, even moreso than it usually is the case when Grandmother tries to recount a story. I think that the money was sent back to her son. But I don't know this for sure. Also, Grandmother made My Father talk to him about the name of her bank. So why am I calling him? Because she wants her son to tell it to me so I can check if it's right. Or something.

Well first she gives me the number of someone who's not her son. Then when she finds the right number for me to call, her son tells her he's got the right bank name, don't worry about it.

But that's not enough. She goes over to knock on my door again. She wants me to call her again because ... I don't remember. I do that, and this time I think to make sure her son has her account number. I still don't fucking know why he doesn't send money to her here -- Grandmother said that he wanted to send it to the bank -- but if it's being sent to the bank, an account number would be nice. If it works, of course.

I thought that was the end of it. But it wasn't. Grandmother ambles down the hallway to knock on my bedroom door a third fucking time because she wants me to call him yet again about ... I don't know what the fuck it's about this time, something about the addresses not matching or something. She's worried that the bank he's sending money to is only the bank you can get money from. I don't know. I don't get it. And frankly, this was the point where I had enough of her and her constant calling of her son and her making me talk on the phone with him to straighten out shit even I don't understand.

I shove her back into her bedroom to tell her I don't know what the hell she's talking about, but at the very least I don't want to call him a third time this night because I'm going to bet it's all much ado about nothing. "But why did the money get returned?" she asked. I don't know why it was returned; shit, I still don't know why he sent to her bank and not to her.

"So why don't you call him to make sure?" she asked. I already told her I wasn't going to do it, but she asked anyway, so this is where I finally refused to do things for her that don't make sense. I had to scold her when I refused, pointing my finger at her and going, "NO, NO, NO!"

She just threw the phone down on the bed; haven't seen her do that in a long time. Haven't seen her this frustrated, even angry, in a long time, too. But I'm tired of it. I don't know what the hell's going on, so I'll do something if something wrong happens.

I don't like being this cold to her, but this is dumb stuff we're doing for her only because she thinks it's important. I just hope Grandmother doesn't get revenge on me for this. She may not give me money she wins at the casino anymore. I'll take the risk.

Helped out at the store today. Got there at 2. Planned on getting there earlier, but I tooled around the computer at home for a little while. Still need to admit that I would rather not be at the store, even in its vulnerable state, before closing. Should change that tomorrow, and come in earlier.

Father didn't have a whole lot to do. Shit, I didn't have a whole lot to do. Nobody came when I was there. Not a single soul. Father told me I could leave at 3:30.

I don't want to store to close; hell, I still catch myself dreaming that they'll still have and open the store. But if keeping the store means more boring days like this where nothing happens -- once again, I can't blame my parents for closing it.

More HIjinks With Grandmother

So she wakes me up late last night because she wants to talk to her son. (She's not really my Grandmother, she was just around to raise me and my brother and sister as my parents were off to run the store, which is now closing, if you haven't kept up.) He sent her some money, but wanted to make sure it was going to the right place.

Right place? Grandmother said he sent it to her bank, and she wants to make sure he has the correct address for the bank. And that's where the hijinks, which wasted 45 minutes of my late night, began:

• Do you have the check? Yes, I do. Well, the address is on there.
• Does your son have the address? I don't know. We'll call him. Oh shit, I say to myself, we have to go through all the international calling bullshit again.
• OK, what's his number? I don't know.
• She shuffles through the pages of this manila envelope of ... papers that has all the phone numbers and addresses (theoretically) of the people she knows overseas. She has this very small notepad, and she does that thing where she rifles through the pages by putting her finger on her tongue first. That's very fucking unsanitary, and I hate it even more when the person doing it doesn't know where to find what she's looking for. Grandmother really didn't know what she was looking for, for that matter.
• Wait a second ... do you have his address? No. WHY THE FUCK NOT? HE'S YOUR SON!!!
• Wait another second ... why is he sending money to your bank? I don't think you can do that in America. Why doesn't he just send the money to you, here? I don't think he has this address. WHY THE FUCK NOT? HE'S YOUR SON!!! (This family doesn't care about each other, truly.)
• Ah, here's the number. But it doesn't have the international code. I'll just take a guess off the top of my head ... no, that's not it. Wait here, Grandmother, I need to go to my bedroom and look at my day planner.
• Yeah-yeah-yeah, hold on. Wait, I give the phone to you and you give it back to me? Does he even speak English?
• Alright, can you read me back the address? OK, you have the bank address, now tell me this address, your mom's home address, this address. Yes ... no-no-no ... now, don't hang up on me! Wait, you forgot the Northeast, but besides that, you got everything right.
• Shut up, Grandmother! (I got to the point where I started hitting her in the shoulder to make her stop talking while I was on the phone. She does that all the time, and I hate that.)
• So the money's coming in Friday? I don't know -- I've never heard of doing such a thing as sending money to a bank ever in my life. So we have to call my son again to check? Fuck that, I'm not doing that!!!

So the bottom line is, despite all her stray papers and having no clue where things are, she does have her son's phone. And even though I feared the worst, the son does have both the home and her bank's addresses. Unfortunately, for some goddamn reason he sent money to the bank (without an account number ... shit, that's why he needed, isn't it?), so on Friday I have to call the bank and ask, "Hey, did you guys just so happen to receive some money from some guy in Hong Kong?" That'll be a treat to sort through, especially if there's no money.

What happened after that really pissed me off. Grandmother's old age/absentmindedness already pushed my buttons at this point, but what came next sent me over the edge.

I thought I was done, so I went back into my bedroom. Some time later I hear a commotion outside so I came out of my bedroom. Grandmother hadn't taken her insulin shot yet, so if it was her finding something to eat, I was going to make sure she shot up first.

She was not in the kitchen, so I check to see if she snuck something into her bedroom. I go in. She has no food. But instead the bitch ambushes me: "I wanted to say something to my son but you hung up before I had the chance!" And that fucking pissed me off. "I gave you the phone, but you hung up! You had your fucking chance but you said goodbye, not me!! You know what? If you want to fucking talk to your son, you do it your goddamn self!!!" For all the shit I helped her through that evening and she shows her gratitude by accusing me of something I didn't do?

It didn't register with her. First of all, I was screaming at her in English. I wanted to make sure I articulated my anger towards her, and I can't do that speaking in Chinese. But I knew that she was probably oblivious to my outburst towards her when, later, she ambled down to my bedroom and asked me to add the international and country codes to her son's number. I take the pad and pen out of her hands and write it down, standing in the hallway. I don't know why she needs it. Does she really think she can call her son by herself? Good luck. She said she'll call to check up with her son tomorrow.

But then, not ten goddamn motherfucking minutes later, she comes back to me and tells me, "You call my son now." JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO FUCKING CALL HIM TOMORROW!!! Well, I knew she wouldn't and couldn't do that, so I just fucking stomped my way into her bedroom and used the calling card to call her again. And I put the phone down as soon as I punched in the number.

I'm always ashamed when My Father yells at Grandmother. Last night was one of those nights where, sadly, I can see where he's coming from.

The Unofficial Death Of Summer At The Fair

Went to the State Fair one final time tonight. There were crowds, but it still felt a lot less crowded than it did when I went the night before, let alone when I went the first night. People trying to do the grown-up thing and taking it easy the night before The First Day Of School, is my guess.

There was a feeling of quiet, even dormancy, in the air at the Fair. Maybe that shouldn't surprise me. Not only are people preparing for tomorrow, Labor Day hours are shorter by an hour or two. Despite the area around the Midway being pretty hopping by the time I left at just before 10:30 (the Midway closed at 11 tonight), and even though I could hear Maroon 5 and Train (and their loud, mostly female fans) emanating from the Grandstand, there was a stillness permeating the atmosphere.

---

It was sad walking around the fairgrounds when people were closing up shop. One of them closed up shop for good. The one thing I wanted to do today was eat at the Epiphany Diner. It's run by this church up in Coon Rapids, which I didn't know until I sat down and looked at one of their stand-up ads. They might run the cemetery where my junior prom date is buried in. Kind of hits home for me. Anyway, after 46 years they have decided that it they can no longer take the annual financial loss the diner takes, so they're packing it in.

There was a story done on the Epiphany Diner last week. I didn't know there were dozens of these sit-down restaurants at the Minnesota State Fair way back when. Times have changed; where families once looked forward to sitting down and eating during The Great Minnesota Get-Together, they now think that is anachronistic, even a waste of time. People-watching is one of the greatest attractions at the Fair, and there's food that you can take along as you walk around. Can't do that if you're sitting down, and that's why what once were dozens has now, with the death of the Epiphany, dwindled to just two. I hope they both hang on.

---

I was debating about whether or not to get Sweet Martha's Cookies and then just sit at the all-you-can-drink milk barn tonight. I did not buy cookies this year -- no! -- for four reasons:

1. I was told that the barn was closing by 9 (less than an hour after I had asked) and possibly earlier because they were running out of milk (they ran out of chocolate when I asked), and I wanted to walk around;
2. Epiphany's dinner set me back $11.50. I gave myself a $20 limit and I had my heart set on a bucket -- which costs $15;
3. I wanted to try something that was new this year and recommended, and I finally found this Egyptian street food called ... um ... harushka? I bought that instead;
4. And I had this plan where all the cookies I couldn't eat by the all-you-can-drink milk barn I would eat with the milk I had at home. But there is so little that I think I can use that with my cereal instead.

So the last thing I bought was root beer. It's only a buck! Finally, some cheap food at the Fair!!

---

Remember when I said that I was kind of looking forward to the end of summer? Seeing the fireworks go off -- The Unofficial End To The State Fair's Day -- made me reconsider. Starting tomorrow, the freedom we felt is over. Now we have schedules, deadlines, invisible hands pushing us forward, towards activities and responsibilities and obligations we may or may not want. When summer rolls around next year, we will be markedly different. And we may not like it.

And I may not like it. No -- I know I will not like it. With all the shit that's going on now, what with the death of the store, the season changing does not change the predicament I'm in, nor does it unbend the curve the family's headed to now. This summer going to this fall is going from the frying pan and into the fire.

Late last night/early this morning I finished a draft. Like once before, I thought it should be updated to late last night/early this morning, but it's timestamped the day I began writing it. So if you want, scroll back to August 29 and read my blog post, "Follow-Up Handjob -- Not As Much Patience Needed This Time!" I think it's a good read.

Poor Bastard Of The Moment -- OK, More Like Two Months Ago: Daiane

I can't think of anything that happened today that I want to blog about. I wanted to talk about this person for some time but I keep forgetting. Plus, I haven't done this feature yet this year, so it's about time I did it.

Harken all the way back to the Women's World Cup, and that stunning quarterfinal victory by the United States over Brazil. The thrilling game-tying goal by the Americans was the second of their two goals that game ... and the only goal they scored themselves.

If you remember, the first goal for the U.S. was an owngoal by Brazilian Defender Daiane (about 11 seconds in):

At least she wasn't shot to death for it. For now.

Poor bastard. Well, actually bitch, because bastard is a term only for men. But "bitch" is kind of harsh, and besides, it's Poor Bastard Of The Moment, so -- Poor bastard.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Gopher women's volleyball (Last Week: -3). Went 2-0 this screening week. The first win -- a thrilling, five-set, come-from-behind one over Oregon in the premiere AVCA Showcase last weekend -- has to be taken in context.

The other three teams in that tournament are top-ranked, four-time defending national champion and host Penn St.; the then-second-ranked team in the nation, USC; and the runt of the group which nonetheless received votes in the preseason AVCA poll, Oregon. They all went 1-1 last weekend. Who winds up fourth in such a situation?

Sadly, I would say the Gophers. Penn St. was upset in their first game to Oregon, and in four sets, but they rebounded by coming from a two-sets-to-none deficit to take out USC. USC did collapse in their game against the Nittany Lions, but it was only cosmic payback for the Gophers going up 2-0 in the previous game -- a game the Women of Troy eventually won. And Oregon? Their taking out of the current dynasty in women's volleyball -- on their home floor, no less -- makes up for losing a 2-sets-to-1 lead to the Gophers. What the Gophers did was choke on a 2-0 lead against the second-ranked team in the country, then had to come from behind to beat a team that only received votes in the AVCA Top 25.

However ... they swept fourth-ranked Texas at the Sports Pavilion last (Friday) night. Swept. Although Minnesota is ranked #11 this week, I didn't think they had the stones to win, let alone win in straight sets. This, along with the even results of last week's AVCA Showcase, may mean that this year in the sport could be as unpredictable as it has ever been. Could be fun.

They end their two-game series against the Longhorns tonight (Saturday night). Hopefully I will be there. Then on Friday they go to Cedar Falls, Iowa for the third non-conference tournament of the season, the Northern Iowa Tournament; they begin playing Saint Louis.

#-2: Lynx (Last Week: -1). Uh-oh. They captured the Western Conference this week, but they followed two wins with a frightening, staggering 78-62 loss at home to the New York Liberty. Champions don't lose by 16 at home late in the season, no matter if Rebekkah Brunson gets signed to a long-term deal, or if Maya Moore is named Rookie Of The Month again. They have a 3 1/2 or 4 1/2-game lead on Indiana (and a 4-5-game lead on Chicago, which is catching up to the Fever in a suddenly tight and very good Eastern Conference), so the Lynx are about to win home-court advantage throughout the WNBA Playoffs. But what if a team's capable of not just winning, but blowing out this squad at Target? The Twin Cities needs a winner!!

Three games left. Two of them this week: at New York Sunday, home to Chicago Thursday.

#-3: Gopher women's soccer (Last Week: -2). 1-1 for the week, and I'm sad to say I attended the not-so-smart loss last (Friday) night to Georgia. The defense got caught napping on the first Bulldog goal, a throw-in where Meghan Gibbons got behind the D and was able to shoot point-blank, then shove in the rebound. Then, two minutes into overtime, Alexa Newfield was able to drift right in front of Gophers goalkeeper Cat Parkhill with no defender within, oh, 20 yards of her. Jenna Owens was able to loft the ball to her head, and the fucking game was over.

Minnesota was able to outshoot Georgia 24-10 (that's shots total, not shots on goal, which was even at 8). There was a particular flurry on a Gophers corner where they had, like, three shots at the net but they kept missing. They have only one tally for their work, by Shari Eckstrom off a corner. And by the way, the ref (Marvin Banks? Can't tell from the box score) let the girls play and did not whistle on usually is, and probably should be, foul calls. There were 14 in all when there could have been 40.

Welp, they probably won't make the NCAA Tournament this year. Sunday afternoon they host Wisconsin-Milwaukee to finish their Minnesota Gold Classic. They then go into the final weekend of non-con play Friday at Illinois St.

#-4: Twins (Last Week: -Infinity). 3-3 -- not below .500, but it might be a testament to the teams in this week's WMNSS that they still are nonetheless still last. Or, it may be that they suck and everybody, including the team, is marking time till the season ends. At least they won, so I won't have to put them down at -Infinity again.

Morneau's hurt again. And Mauer's sitting out again. They finish up their road series at Anaheim against the Angels this weekend, then come home to begin a four-game set against Chicago starting with a special make-up doubleheader Labor Day. A day off, then go back on the Friday at Detroit.

Four Observations

1. Went to the store to work this afternoon. But I found myself spending 90 minute at the U. before getting there at 2. I actually was doing this one-off, half-hour survey that ended around 12:40. I should've gone to the store straight away. Instead, I dinked around campus. Maybe I'm just afraid of going to the store in the days leading up to its demise. Or, maybe I have to face the fact that I really don't want to work at the store regardless of the circumstances.
2. When I get there, Father is chipping ice away from the front freezer. More destroying, more taking down.
3. We have a calendar in the kitchen. Mother asks me to circle all dates when I will not be home for dinner. Before someone tore the sheet to September, I counted that I was not home for dinner 16 dates in August. That's 16 out of 31 -- more than half. I'm fairly sure that's the first time since college where I've not eaten dinner at home more times than I have. Freaky.
4. I'm about to renew my Franklin Quest for September. Looking back, I had only written down to-do lists on two days. That actually is an improvement. There have been one or two months where I hadn't written a daily task list on any day. It may have even been last month. I mean, if I'm not going to write lists, what the hell is the day planner for? Then again, using it only twice isn't that much better either.

Dogs Days Are Over -- Thank Buddha

For the first time in, I believe, my life, these two past weeks have been torture.  Normally these would be days of sadness and trepidation.

It started, of course, when I was in school.  I hated it.  I missed at least nine days of kindergarten because I threw such a gargantuan temper tantrum that my parents, late in opening up the store, just decided to leave me at home and beat the shit out of me later that evening.  (They didn't because they were so tired.  It came out on other days, at different times.  That may be how I learned to be passive-aggressive.)  But I had to go to school, and even though I was a pretty good student, I pined for the summer.  To this day, nothing beats the feeling of the last day of school, particularly anticipating that final bell, that sound of freedom from educational servitude.  Once that bell rung, all of us students ran the hell out of school, knowing we had three months to do whatever the fuck we wanted, without teaches or rules or consequences.

I've obviously been out of school, at least the rigorous schedule of high school, for almost two decades now, but I think the schedule of not having to go to school for the summer (an antiquated sched based on the nation's agricultural past where children had to help on the farm) has instilled in everyone a surreally different feeling towards summer.  I bet that people who work -- well, full-time, so people unlike me -- still feel differently about the summertime -- personally, not just because they themselves have kids whose days change once school ends.  To me, and I think others, that sense of freedom once you run out the doors of school on the last day never goes away.  You're more carefree during the summer.  You don't think that hard during the summer -- which may mean that you takes things easier, or you let your emotions get away with you and you do impulsive things, whether it be hitting on a girl or, uh, get drunk and start a fight.  It could be the sun or the heat, but I think we're just, for lack of a better word, trained to behave differently because of the summer.  And it's going to be that way all our lives, no matter what we do now.

And yet I can't wait for Labor Day to come this year.  Nothing too drastic's going to change, even though the State Fair will be done by then, and there won't be any kids running around the street anymore because they're back in school, and entertainment-wise the new TV season won't begin for another couple weeks.

A large part of my changed feelings (at least for this summer's end) stem from all the fucking changes that have come.  August has truly been a mensis horribilis for me, what with the news my parents are closing the store, several friends and colleagues facing personal and family emergencies, and things surrounding me that just don't feel, um, safe.

But I also think part of my antipathy towards what normally would be a sentimental, partly-angry look back towards the death of summer can be attributed to what I liked best about summer turning on me.  This is a time of no rules and responsibilities, and a total dive into recklessness and fun.  That mindset has been fun for me in past summers, but not this time.  What was a floating, easygoing mindset this summer has been a stultifying, and in fact dangerous, way of wiling away my days.  Me just going about my waking hours -- and sure, I've been trying to find work and writing and otherwise making my days productive -- has made me think there's not just something more but something foreboding that is happening and/or will be happening soon.  I've felt like I have not been paying attention, or doing the right thing, and that I will pay for my insouciance or lack of maturity soon.  Or, I might be paying for that now because my parents are killing the store.

I'm not communicating this well because I can't quite describe my feelings.  You know, maybe it's the heat; it's past 90 today, the first time in some time, maybe the last time this year, even though it's been hot for a hell of a long time.  But I feel I have been lazy all summer, like I always have been, and this time I whave and/or will pay for that, whatever that is.  And although something bad might happen soon, a part of me thinks the problem is the looseness of summer.  Labor Day is thus a finish line, a light at the end of the tunnel, and maybe, hopefully, things will get better as soon as The Unofficial Beginning Of Fall begins.

Was an extra for over half a day yesterday. Decided against going to the State Fair and instead went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition) and grabbed a late-night snack before going home. Hit the bed around 1, just after I got home and took Grandmother's stats.

Forgot that I still had my wristwatch alarm on. The night before I set it for 8 so I could get to the set by 9. Should've turned it off; instead, was woken up at 8. There were some productive things I was (actually have been) able to do. For one thing, I could check the recyclables outside to see if Father threw away anything that belonged to me. He didn't.

Unfortunately, Grandmother apparently is able to hear my wristwatch alarm because shortly after I had been woken up by it, I hear her footsteps as she left her bedroom. Might as well get her vital signs early in the morning after she wakes up, which is when I should be taking them.

Have been up since. Need to blog, then check the site of this survey at the U. I signed up (my only source of income this week), then hopefully more time in bed.