I didn't plan on going out tonight. I've been out the past two days dealing with taxes and My Fucking Father telling me I need to take a shower. But, stupid me, I totally forgot he would tell me again.
I lied to my parents when I said I needed to work in the afternoon. Instead I got up at 11:30, debated with myself awhile about whether I should go to a movie or eat, and if the latter what. I then concluded that e-mailing experiments for work was the top priority, so I went down to the U. and tore as many phone numbers for experiments ... but not before getting lunch at Maverick's, this place that purportedly has the best roast beef in town. But I didn't get lunch because when I walked up to the door there was a note taped on the front door that said its credit card machine wasn't working, and today was a day I decided I was not going to use cash. Best laid plans. ...
Anyway, after going to the U. and then this library that's close to me that I've wanted to go to for a long time and has very weird hours, and then My Favorite Coffeeshop (Afternoon Edition) because I haven't been there in a while and I felt hot and I wanted their cold drink, I went home. I heard the voicemail My Fucking Father left me, but this time I didn't answer.
I was greeted by him at the dining room table. "Do you have to work tonight?"
"Uh," and I should have pondered this for a couple moments, even if I looked stupid in his eyes, "No."
"Good," he said, "Let's eat. Take a shower."
Oh, fuck, you're going to make me take a fucking shower? I should have realized this, but I've been able to avoid being told to take a shower because I've made myself scarce.
A combination of embarrassment and anger fueled my heart. I hate being infantilized like this, and I hate that I have to go along doing what I don't want to do for fear of sleeping in the street tonight.
So I made up a lie. Well, a quasi-lie. See, when I was getting this coffee-based cold drink I was sitting down and reading the sports section. The Stanley Cup playoffs continue, and Game 4 between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh was tonight, with the lower-seeded Flyers going for a sweep. It's been enhanced/marred by fights throughout the first three contests. A lot of people have gotten pissed off over all the brawls in this series to the point where it's damaging their interest in the game. However, columnist Michael Rand highlighted this game tonight and said it is the best first round series in NHL history.
Well, I've got to see it now. Unfortunately I don't have cable, which pries open the opportunity that I would indeed, say, exercise as an excuse to watch the game. I was tossing it around in my head. My Fucking Father's passive-aggressive threat -- shower and then you can eat -- just struck a nerve with me. This is him once again trying to get his way with me over something that doesn't matter. Why in the fuck do I have to shower before I eat? I generally don't, and he hasn't given a shit most of my 36 years here on earth.
That did it. Even though I didn't plan on it, even though there is a ton of stuff on TV for me to see, even though it'd be wasting gas and I haven't seen a paycheck in at least two weeks, fuck this. I'm going to tell My Fucking Father that even though I'm not working tonight, I wanted to work out tonight, so why don't I just shower at night, well after we eat? And they got off my back and said yes.
And then Suburgatory came on. And then Mother needed help watching movies on her small laptop. By the time I got into my car there was only 100 minutes left before the gym closed. It takes a good half-hour to go from starting the car at home to being at in the fitness room ready to work out, plus I wanted to take a detour to the grocery store to pick up some more Gatorade. In short, even though I would be able to watch, it would make no sense for me to exercise for such a small amount of time.
So now my top priority is finding a place where I can watch the hockey game, and somewhere I won't need to pay cash. Obviously my answer is a bar. I decided to go to this rib place not too far from where I live, but I wanted to make sure they were showing hockey. So without stepping out of my car, I drove around the restaurant and peering in to see what the TVs were showing ... and as far as I could tell there was no hockey, only the Twins and maybe some other baseball.
That meant that I meandered down a side street for a while before going to the Buffalo Wild Wings in Roseville. I was so desperate to be outside that I went down that far. And then, when I got there, it wasn't there. Luckily they posted a sheet with a map of their new place, which is right across the street from Rosedale, which is where I was earlier in the day, which makes me going to the area again very, very redundant. But I didn't care; I knew BWW would be showing hockey.
And that's how I wound up charging $13.50 to my credit card, $13.50 I didn't think I would be charging. Man, my credit card bill has cleared two grand, I swear. Plus I ate a huge plate of nachos even though I had dinner.
All of this because I was offended that My Fucking Father told me to go shower. I have to, at the very least, remember that he'll pull this shit tomorrow. That way I can at least control my feelings.
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