OK, so I'm using the hotel computer right now. It's one with an Internet Explorer screen I can't close and an Apple Software update that has been updating for the past ten minutes. It also probably has been used by so many other people I think it needs to get tested for STDs. And I'm using it to blog post for today!
---
I need to bitch about something. Some time today (Saturday) the goddamn low tire pressure indicator light came on. For the life of me I don't know how or why. But now I'm obsessing over feeling each of the tires in case one of them is flat. So far, nothing. In fact, they all look fine. So why is that light on? What do I do -- spend four quarters to put air in it or just wing it and assume nothing's wrong? And what responsibility do I have with the rental company? Are they going to charge me if they "determine" something is wrong? Instead of pleading ignorance when I bring the car back in -- "I didn't know that light was on, I promise!" -- I think I'm going to call them tomorrow. Maybe.
---
Oh, and since I am using a foreign ISP, Blogger asked me to confirm that I am me writing this. I tried texting and e-mailing, however the lobby is a dead spot for my phone. So I used a third way to get into my blog: Typing down my phone number. Yeah, that's secure. And I typed it into a public computer. God, I hope the memory erase on this works.
---
I have to go to Magic City now, the strip club that is also The Birthplace Of Twerking. Went to a strip club last night and didn't get hurt, but wish me luck.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Saturday, July 30, 2016
With One Day To Go Before I Go ...
The people in Atlanta are great. Haven't been mugged or carjacked yet (fingers crossed). The layout of the city is so spread out it's ridiculous; Thursday afternoon it took me an hour to drive 22 miles The humidity is also horrible, but even though people keep commenting on it, I thought this was normal weather down here.
The Internet in the libraries here are very slow. I've been to two around the area I'm staying at. Internet's slow in both, but the one closer to my hotel is in a physically run-down building. The other one is the headquarters and that one looks nice. Nevertheless, that the Internet in this county's libraries is slow is kind of shocking to me.
The strip club scene is intimidating; went to a notorious place called the Clermont Lounge and I cannot unsee what I saw there. Wish I could get my rocks off, but really, I don't think I'll have a chance because all these places are so busy. That helps me save money, though.
It's come to the point where I'm sad that I didn't choose to spend another day here. There is so much I want to see, but my old usher friend lives here and we're going to spend lunch tomorrow together! I'll have to make some decisions, but this also opens the door for me to come back to Atlanta again some time.
In the meantime I should get moving. Just bought a ticket to tonight's Braves game, and even though it's 7 1/2 hours from the start, I feel as if I'm already behind because I woke up a bit past 10 today. I want to eat at the Hard Rock and go to the College Football Hall of Fame, and I really don't know if I have time to do both and get to Turner Field without getting swallowed up in traffic and missing first pitch. We'll see.
Gotta get a move on.
Friday, July 29, 2016
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -1). A very up-and-down week for the Twinks which got more rollercoastery late last (Thursday) night. They rebounded from last Thursday's rout at Boston by taking Friday's game 2-1 and then outpounding the Red Sox 11-9 Saturday, but got nipped Sunday 8-7 to split their four-game series. They then dropped both ends of a two-game series at home to The Worst Team In The Majors, Atlanta, before beating Baltimore at Target last (Thursday) night in game rain-delayed from early May.
But the big news was that the organization traded Eduardo Nunez, the Shortstop having a great year and was the squad's only representative at this year's All-Star Game, to The Bastard New York Giants in exchange for a AAA-level lefty named Adalberto Mejia. Now, I understand that the record reflects the need to rebuild, I get that. And Nunez is in his seventh year in baseball, so it's not as if we're trading, oh, Miguel Sano. But while I'm not sure that Nunez is going to become an All-Star-caliber player so late into his career, I don't know if the club got enough for him. This Mejia kid was rated as the fifth-best prospect in the Giants organization (according to Baseball America) and a Top 100 baseball prospect. One-for-one, just for him? Call me greedy, but I don't think that was enough. Also, consider that Danny Santana and Jorge Polanco will platoon at SS now, and I think that's going to be a big drop. Yes, it doesn't matter this year, but the product that has been woeful so often this year will become even more unbearable as a result of trading away the player playing the best this year.
(This, by the way, I think also ensures that Joe Mauer won't be traded, either this year or any. If anything, Mr. Twin will get to walk as a free agent late in his career.)
This week they finish their homestand with a three-game set against the White Sox before starting a four-game series at division-leading Cleveland.
But the big news was that the organization traded Eduardo Nunez, the Shortstop having a great year and was the squad's only representative at this year's All-Star Game, to The Bastard New York Giants in exchange for a AAA-level lefty named Adalberto Mejia. Now, I understand that the record reflects the need to rebuild, I get that. And Nunez is in his seventh year in baseball, so it's not as if we're trading, oh, Miguel Sano. But while I'm not sure that Nunez is going to become an All-Star-caliber player so late into his career, I don't know if the club got enough for him. This Mejia kid was rated as the fifth-best prospect in the Giants organization (according to Baseball America) and a Top 100 baseball prospect. One-for-one, just for him? Call me greedy, but I don't think that was enough. Also, consider that Danny Santana and Jorge Polanco will platoon at SS now, and I think that's going to be a big drop. Yes, it doesn't matter this year, but the product that has been woeful so often this year will become even more unbearable as a result of trading away the player playing the best this year.
(This, by the way, I think also ensures that Joe Mauer won't be traded, either this year or any. If anything, Mr. Twin will get to walk as a free agent late in his career.)
This week they finish their homestand with a three-game set against the White Sox before starting a four-game series at division-leading Cleveland.
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Hit The Ground -- Not Running, Just Hit The Ground
Things are kind of backed-up in terms of being a tourist in Atlanta. It's the hotel. Damn place I checked into last night is a dump. I had heard bad things about it on Trip Advisor, but I had faith. Yep, that faith has betrayed me.
The air conditioning works, and for the four very humid days I'll be here, really, that's all that matters. Other parts of my room were, well, less than ideal. But my huge concern was the front door, of all things. When I first tried to stick my card in to open it, I realized that it was already open. That's because it doesn't shut easily, and when I tried to lock it from the inside, the door is so misaligned that I couldn't latch it.
Come the morning (I was going to head out, but I just conked off while listening to Colbert) I just wanted to see if I could deal with just shutting the door with a little more force. I couldn't, and not latching the door shut still bothered me. So I did something I had never done before: I complained downstairs and was given another room. Except that that room didn't seem to be picked up from the previous occupant. I think the tables were sticky too. Oh, this hotel!
At least the front desk clerk was nice about giving me a third room, which apparently I will get when I come back from going ... somewhere today. I just hope that wherever I move into, the people next door turn off their radio, like my previous "neighbor" didn't.
The air conditioning works, and for the four very humid days I'll be here, really, that's all that matters. Other parts of my room were, well, less than ideal. But my huge concern was the front door, of all things. When I first tried to stick my card in to open it, I realized that it was already open. That's because it doesn't shut easily, and when I tried to lock it from the inside, the door is so misaligned that I couldn't latch it.
Come the morning (I was going to head out, but I just conked off while listening to Colbert) I just wanted to see if I could deal with just shutting the door with a little more force. I couldn't, and not latching the door shut still bothered me. So I did something I had never done before: I complained downstairs and was given another room. Except that that room didn't seem to be picked up from the previous occupant. I think the tables were sticky too. Oh, this hotel!
At least the front desk clerk was nice about giving me a third room, which apparently I will get when I come back from going ... somewhere today. I just hope that wherever I move into, the people next door turn off their radio, like my previous "neighbor" didn't.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Medicine Follies
I haven't been able to get a renewal of my prescription of Flunisolide, or any nasal spray for that matter, for about two months now. I have had ample supply of it from previous renewals (which I didn't use up entirely), but with no renewals since May now I have run out.
It's been a bizarre back-and-forth between the clinic, the pharmacy, and the insurance company. The clinic and the pharmacy are within walking distance of each other, and they're both close to home. And since I'm not working right now, I've stepped up my investigation into this by going to one and walking to both to see where in this process my, I guess, re-authorization for my allergy medicine is. And I have literally gotten a run-around: The pharmacy says that the medicine has not been approved, so I walk to the clinic and they tell me that they sent the authorization to the pharmacy. That has happened a couple times.
Yesterday, on my way back home, remembering that I can't be home too early, realizing that I hadn't yet blog posted for the day, I reminded myself that I need to check for the medicine again, especially now that I'm going to be in Atlanta (where it's presumably pollen country) for the next five days or so. I figured that if the pharmacy hasn't left me a message yet, there's no reason for me to walk there, so I went to the clinic. There, the receptionist (who was a bit snippy, I must say) said that there was some pre-authorization ... I guess ... so now I have to talk to the insurance company. Too bad it was after five; I called only after I got home, and the offices were closed.
Should I even bother now? It might be possible for me to call first thing in the morning, somehow get them to automatically approve it and shipped to the pharmacy for immediate fill-up. I can then get it before coming home this (Wednesday) afternoon before leaving. However, even though I have no idea how this works, I'm guessing it doesn't work like that.
In retrospect I should've been on the ball a lot more and a lot sooner. That way it wouldn't have come to this. I don't think I was so diligent because I had enough spray and late-July is inbetween allergies for me, so I wasn't that worried. I'm worried now, and although I'm still kind of miffed at the bitchy customer service I was given last (Wednesday) evening, the bottom line is my insurance isn't paying for this Flunisolide, and so I'm scrambling to find something that'll work, and it looks like I'll have to make do with Claritin tablets until I get home.
Oh, one other thing: I'm changing insurance companies starting Monday (which is the 1st of August). The insurance company I have now won't cover my shrink; that's why I haven't seen him all this month. But I was able to change insurances earlier this month, so starting on the 1st I can see him -- well, at least until I go back to work. Hopefully all this bullcrap with the nasal spray will be straightened out with the switch in companies, too.
It's been a bizarre back-and-forth between the clinic, the pharmacy, and the insurance company. The clinic and the pharmacy are within walking distance of each other, and they're both close to home. And since I'm not working right now, I've stepped up my investigation into this by going to one and walking to both to see where in this process my, I guess, re-authorization for my allergy medicine is. And I have literally gotten a run-around: The pharmacy says that the medicine has not been approved, so I walk to the clinic and they tell me that they sent the authorization to the pharmacy. That has happened a couple times.
Yesterday, on my way back home, remembering that I can't be home too early, realizing that I hadn't yet blog posted for the day, I reminded myself that I need to check for the medicine again, especially now that I'm going to be in Atlanta (where it's presumably pollen country) for the next five days or so. I figured that if the pharmacy hasn't left me a message yet, there's no reason for me to walk there, so I went to the clinic. There, the receptionist (who was a bit snippy, I must say) said that there was some pre-authorization ... I guess ... so now I have to talk to the insurance company. Too bad it was after five; I called only after I got home, and the offices were closed.
Should I even bother now? It might be possible for me to call first thing in the morning, somehow get them to automatically approve it and shipped to the pharmacy for immediate fill-up. I can then get it before coming home this (Wednesday) afternoon before leaving. However, even though I have no idea how this works, I'm guessing it doesn't work like that.
In retrospect I should've been on the ball a lot more and a lot sooner. That way it wouldn't have come to this. I don't think I was so diligent because I had enough spray and late-July is inbetween allergies for me, so I wasn't that worried. I'm worried now, and although I'm still kind of miffed at the bitchy customer service I was given last (Wednesday) evening, the bottom line is my insurance isn't paying for this Flunisolide, and so I'm scrambling to find something that'll work, and it looks like I'll have to make do with Claritin tablets until I get home.
Oh, one other thing: I'm changing insurance companies starting Monday (which is the 1st of August). The insurance company I have now won't cover my shrink; that's why I haven't seen him all this month. But I was able to change insurances earlier this month, so starting on the 1st I can see him -- well, at least until I go back to work. Hopefully all this bullcrap with the nasal spray will be straightened out with the switch in companies, too.
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Back To Money Troubles
I shouldn't have. But I did. I went to a party this afternoon. Spent $160 I could've spent in Atlanta. But *****e* beckoned me, and it was at her home (at least for now; she might have to leave because her landlord is selling the house), and I wanted to get a handjob from her at her humble abode. It's weird to wait and look at the decor. She loves her two kids, and it's kind of kinky to be getting fucked by the mother of the children I see in the photos *****e* has hung up everywhere. Also, she is quite religious. What Would Jesus Do? Suck a dick?
It took me an hour to find a SuperAmerica so I could use its ATM. Took out exactly $160, and I had to gin up the courage to look at my balance. I suddenly feel the need to take a dump, because I really thought I would have more money than I do.
This is horrible timing because I'm going on vacation. You're supposed to not be on a budget on vacation. You're supposed to go to as many stripclubs as you want to when you're on vacation. Now, I can't. In fact, I don't feel like I should go to a single strip club while I'm down in Hotlanta. I hear the scene is great, but I don't care to partake in it if I can't afford to. And right now I feel as if I can't.
Damn, this unemployment thing sucks.
It took me an hour to find a SuperAmerica so I could use its ATM. Took out exactly $160, and I had to gin up the courage to look at my balance. I suddenly feel the need to take a dump, because I really thought I would have more money than I do.
This is horrible timing because I'm going on vacation. You're supposed to not be on a budget on vacation. You're supposed to go to as many stripclubs as you want to when you're on vacation. Now, I can't. In fact, I don't feel like I should go to a single strip club while I'm down in Hotlanta. I hear the scene is great, but I don't care to partake in it if I can't afford to. And right now I feel as if I can't.
Damn, this unemployment thing sucks.
Monday, July 25, 2016
I'm Back To Obsessing About My Weight
I'm not sure what to do now. I've been exercising the hell out of myself the past week or so, I've been walking a lot more, and it's hot out. But it feels as though I am still gaining weight, no matter what I do.
That, it has to be said, may be all in my head, because it all started with looking at my weight at my physical last Monday. I had been at 161 at one point and 167 at another, but I had been feeling very fat going into last week, and the results bore that out: I was at 177. 177?! I thought that all the shit in my shorts could have added, like, another ten pounds, but I knew that I was gaining weight.
I have not stepped on a scale voluntarily in years. When I was young I was obsessed over how much I weighed -- like I was an anorexic. So I listened to those who said never to do that, because it'll take over and ruin your life. Nevertheless I have gained weight, and I don't know if ignoring what a scale would say has made me any healthier or less obsessed.
However, while I don't seek out scales, I have sort of changed my tune when it comes to seeing scales come to me. (I was trying to turn a slick turn of phrase there, and I don't know if I did it.) I've been working as a test subject at the MRI place a couple times the past week, and in the changing room (I have to change into scrubs to make absolutely sure there's no metal on me) there is a scale. I had to weigh myself, and I am scant lighter than I was at my check-up -- 174, 175.
My God, I am getting fucking fat. I want to blame Mother for brownbagging me lunch when I was going to go out to eat anyway. I could blame both of my parents too, for making such big dinners and for telling me to eat something late at night. But shit, all I could tell them is, "I don't want you making lunch for me anymore," and that would solve that half of the equation. Maybe.
I get a break from that, for now. Told my folks the truth about going to the dentist's tomorrow, so Mother won't have to pack me lunch. On Wednesday I leave; I do have a dermatologist appointment that morning, but I'll be back my noon, so even though they'll probably have lunch for me to eat, there's nothing they'll send me away with for the morning. Then I'm off to Atlanta till Sunday. Hopefully by then I will have shed a few pounds.
That, it has to be said, may be all in my head, because it all started with looking at my weight at my physical last Monday. I had been at 161 at one point and 167 at another, but I had been feeling very fat going into last week, and the results bore that out: I was at 177. 177?! I thought that all the shit in my shorts could have added, like, another ten pounds, but I knew that I was gaining weight.
I have not stepped on a scale voluntarily in years. When I was young I was obsessed over how much I weighed -- like I was an anorexic. So I listened to those who said never to do that, because it'll take over and ruin your life. Nevertheless I have gained weight, and I don't know if ignoring what a scale would say has made me any healthier or less obsessed.
However, while I don't seek out scales, I have sort of changed my tune when it comes to seeing scales come to me. (I was trying to turn a slick turn of phrase there, and I don't know if I did it.) I've been working as a test subject at the MRI place a couple times the past week, and in the changing room (I have to change into scrubs to make absolutely sure there's no metal on me) there is a scale. I had to weigh myself, and I am scant lighter than I was at my check-up -- 174, 175.
My God, I am getting fucking fat. I want to blame Mother for brownbagging me lunch when I was going to go out to eat anyway. I could blame both of my parents too, for making such big dinners and for telling me to eat something late at night. But shit, all I could tell them is, "I don't want you making lunch for me anymore," and that would solve that half of the equation. Maybe.
I get a break from that, for now. Told my folks the truth about going to the dentist's tomorrow, so Mother won't have to pack me lunch. On Wednesday I leave; I do have a dermatologist appointment that morning, but I'll be back my noon, so even though they'll probably have lunch for me to eat, there's nothing they'll send me away with for the morning. Then I'm off to Atlanta till Sunday. Hopefully by then I will have shed a few pounds.
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Addendum To: In Defense Of Slut-Shaming
And now I have to run sort of a retraction and correction. Sort of.
About two months ago I defended calling women and girls who participate in sex with multiple partners whom they do not know as sluts for voluntarily allowing themselves to be exploited by men. The blog post was prompted by an incident in Florida where one woman reportedly fucked 25 guys in a boys' high school bathroom; some of these pleasured men recorded the sex act, and that is how authorities discovered this.
Well, there is more to the story. The woman getting gangbanged is, allegedly, a sex trafficking survivor. She had been sexually abused so often in her formative years that she does not know how to properly respond when the boy she had a crush on told her she wanted to have sex with her. So that's how that happened.
Look, I brought up another incident where a girl at an Enimen concert in Ireland was going down on random men. On the presumption that she has not been similarly abused when she's young, I will still say that that young woman is old enough to know that she needs to protect her body from the libidos of irresponsible men. However, if the case in Florida is true, I totally absolve that young woman from being a slut. She was ruthlessly taken advantage of by a boy she was crushing on, and some sick boys made a bad situation more disgusting. This is not the girl's fault -- it's the boys', all of them, especially this supposed "boyfriend." So I take back slut-shaming her, and I apologize for calling her that.
About two months ago I defended calling women and girls who participate in sex with multiple partners whom they do not know as sluts for voluntarily allowing themselves to be exploited by men. The blog post was prompted by an incident in Florida where one woman reportedly fucked 25 guys in a boys' high school bathroom; some of these pleasured men recorded the sex act, and that is how authorities discovered this.
Well, there is more to the story. The woman getting gangbanged is, allegedly, a sex trafficking survivor. She had been sexually abused so often in her formative years that she does not know how to properly respond when the boy she had a crush on told her she wanted to have sex with her. So that's how that happened.
Look, I brought up another incident where a girl at an Enimen concert in Ireland was going down on random men. On the presumption that she has not been similarly abused when she's young, I will still say that that young woman is old enough to know that she needs to protect her body from the libidos of irresponsible men. However, if the case in Florida is true, I totally absolve that young woman from being a slut. She was ruthlessly taken advantage of by a boy she was crushing on, and some sick boys made a bad situation more disgusting. This is not the girl's fault -- it's the boys', all of them, especially this supposed "boyfriend." So I take back slut-shaming her, and I apologize for calling her that.
Saturday, July 23, 2016
Blah-Blah-Bullshit
So ten days ago I finally received the answers to my questions regarding how the new test scoring place suddenly didn't take their work as seriously as they should. This was a dozen days after I sent to the HR person my concerns about the half-ass measures they seemed to take when it came to selecting project leadership.
And I will be blunt: It's all bullshit. I was going to be skeptical about their answers anyway, but these tossed-off responses aren't even close to what I would consider justifiable or even reasonable answers as to why these people are promoting people who just came in with their dicks in their hands thinking they can just look at essays for eight hours a day for a paycheck.
I'm not saying the answers I've been given were lies. Some of them are truths, and I object to them because they're admitting their culpability in turning what should be serious work into a joke. Nonetheless, I abhor the lie told to me (the HR guy said that he relayed my questions, anonymously, to the company's full-time staff, and he typed the answers given to him down and sent them to me) that these deputized immediate supervisors went through "a rigorous process." The person who supervised me on the last project said it himself: He was like one of us, he scored well on ten questions, and he was given the job. So there was no "numerous criteria and factors" taken into consideration. These guy -- those four people -- all got the jobs based on a single goddamn test. Don't fucking lie to me.
Assuming this is not a lie, I believe them when they say that the company's full-time staff consulted with the states/clients selling these projects in allowing these bullshit promotions. They admitted, sadly, that they've done this in the past; I swear that has never happened in any of the test scoring projects I've been a part of, but now I'm not 100% sure. Worst of all, they confessed that they might pull this shit again in the future.
So, that tears it. These are the answers I didn't want but was afraid I would get. So, if I'm a man of my word, I can no longer work with these people. And I am doing my damnedest, I tell you, to wiggle free from this upcoming test scoring project, especially because I'm afraid they'll just turn this project into the Mandingo fight scenes in Django Unchained and pit us scorers against each other in order to find someone who'll suddenly take over leadership duties at an extra two bucks an hour.
But the two temp agencies still can't find anything for me. And yesterday (Friday), I received confirmation about the new project, which is starting in two weeks. Man, I don't want to go back on my promise to myself, but I don't think I can continue on unemployment just so I can make a point.
I've got one week to find something else or I'm slouching back to Gomorrah. In the meanwhile I promised this person at the old test scoring place I am going to give her the third degree as to why in the project I was working on over there Sugar Ass was suddenly telling me what to do. Guessing that she'll give me the same answers, but now I'm hoping she could be a hell of a lot more upfront with me. Probably call her Friday when I'm in Atlanta, and hopefully I'll be able to arrange a face-to-face talk with her about that when I come back. Because I've worked for them for several years and therefore I feel entitled to it.
And I will be blunt: It's all bullshit. I was going to be skeptical about their answers anyway, but these tossed-off responses aren't even close to what I would consider justifiable or even reasonable answers as to why these people are promoting people who just came in with their dicks in their hands thinking they can just look at essays for eight hours a day for a paycheck.
I'm not saying the answers I've been given were lies. Some of them are truths, and I object to them because they're admitting their culpability in turning what should be serious work into a joke. Nonetheless, I abhor the lie told to me (the HR guy said that he relayed my questions, anonymously, to the company's full-time staff, and he typed the answers given to him down and sent them to me) that these deputized immediate supervisors went through "a rigorous process." The person who supervised me on the last project said it himself: He was like one of us, he scored well on ten questions, and he was given the job. So there was no "numerous criteria and factors" taken into consideration. These guy -- those four people -- all got the jobs based on a single goddamn test. Don't fucking lie to me.
Assuming this is not a lie, I believe them when they say that the company's full-time staff consulted with the states/clients selling these projects in allowing these bullshit promotions. They admitted, sadly, that they've done this in the past; I swear that has never happened in any of the test scoring projects I've been a part of, but now I'm not 100% sure. Worst of all, they confessed that they might pull this shit again in the future.
So, that tears it. These are the answers I didn't want but was afraid I would get. So, if I'm a man of my word, I can no longer work with these people. And I am doing my damnedest, I tell you, to wiggle free from this upcoming test scoring project, especially because I'm afraid they'll just turn this project into the Mandingo fight scenes in Django Unchained and pit us scorers against each other in order to find someone who'll suddenly take over leadership duties at an extra two bucks an hour.
But the two temp agencies still can't find anything for me. And yesterday (Friday), I received confirmation about the new project, which is starting in two weeks. Man, I don't want to go back on my promise to myself, but I don't think I can continue on unemployment just so I can make a point.
I've got one week to find something else or I'm slouching back to Gomorrah. In the meanwhile I promised this person at the old test scoring place I am going to give her the third degree as to why in the project I was working on over there Sugar Ass was suddenly telling me what to do. Guessing that she'll give me the same answers, but now I'm hoping she could be a hell of a lot more upfront with me. Probably call her Friday when I'm in Atlanta, and hopefully I'll be able to arrange a face-to-face talk with her about that when I come back. Because I've worked for them for several years and therefore I feel entitled to it.
Friday, July 22, 2016
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -1). The second half of the year begins with a 3-4 screening week, where they lost two-of-three at home vs. Cleveland but then won two-of-three in Detroit. They have begun a four-game series at Boston Thursday which didn't go so well -- 13-2, yikes.
But the big news came Monday morning, where General Manager Terry Ryan was relieved of his duties. Saying he was shitcanned may be too strong; from what I've heard, the Pohlads told Ryan that he wasn't going to return next year, but given that he has served the organization well, they were going to give him the right and the space to craft his own exit. Around the weekend, Ryan said, "OK, I would like to leave now."
Maybe I have a blind spot for him, but viscerally, I don't feel that firing Ryan was the right thing to do. Yes, I lean on the fact that the GM isn't the one giving up gopher balls to middling hitters, or striking out with men in scoring position, or blowing late leads. And yes, I am cognizant of the fact that the GM does select the players that give up those homers and fail to score and choke when the team is ahead. I guess that, because he was the architect of the Twins' Renaissance in the 90's, he can do it again. And it has been four years since he resumed GM duties for a second time. I'm thinking that a lot of people believe that's more than enough; I think he should get a couple more years. The big-league club is awful, but the farm system is considered to be in pretty solid shape. Well, stocking the farm system is the GM's job. So Ryan did a good job, didn't he?
So now the Pohlads are going to search high and low for Ryan's replacement -- inside and outside the organization, too. If they're going to dump Ryan, yes, I think it's time to shake off the incestuous culture and hire someone from the outside. However, the Pohlads have emphatically declared that regardless of who the new GM is, Paul Molitor stays as Manager for next year. Now who in the hell would want to become the Twinks' new General Manager if he isn't given the power to select his own Manager? That is a weird edict to dictate.
In the meantime the Twins, who have the worst record in the American League, finish their series at Fenway Park this weekend. They then come home for an eventful workweek: On Tuesday they have that rare, strange two-game series against Atlanta (the team with the worst record in the Major Leagues, and a team I'll be seeing next week in the ATL after they finish that series at Target Field), then host Baltimore Thursday in a make-up game that was rained out on its original date of May 9.
But the big news came Monday morning, where General Manager Terry Ryan was relieved of his duties. Saying he was shitcanned may be too strong; from what I've heard, the Pohlads told Ryan that he wasn't going to return next year, but given that he has served the organization well, they were going to give him the right and the space to craft his own exit. Around the weekend, Ryan said, "OK, I would like to leave now."
Maybe I have a blind spot for him, but viscerally, I don't feel that firing Ryan was the right thing to do. Yes, I lean on the fact that the GM isn't the one giving up gopher balls to middling hitters, or striking out with men in scoring position, or blowing late leads. And yes, I am cognizant of the fact that the GM does select the players that give up those homers and fail to score and choke when the team is ahead. I guess that, because he was the architect of the Twins' Renaissance in the 90's, he can do it again. And it has been four years since he resumed GM duties for a second time. I'm thinking that a lot of people believe that's more than enough; I think he should get a couple more years. The big-league club is awful, but the farm system is considered to be in pretty solid shape. Well, stocking the farm system is the GM's job. So Ryan did a good job, didn't he?
So now the Pohlads are going to search high and low for Ryan's replacement -- inside and outside the organization, too. If they're going to dump Ryan, yes, I think it's time to shake off the incestuous culture and hire someone from the outside. However, the Pohlads have emphatically declared that regardless of who the new GM is, Paul Molitor stays as Manager for next year. Now who in the hell would want to become the Twinks' new General Manager if he isn't given the power to select his own Manager? That is a weird edict to dictate.
In the meantime the Twins, who have the worst record in the American League, finish their series at Fenway Park this weekend. They then come home for an eventful workweek: On Tuesday they have that rare, strange two-game series against Atlanta (the team with the worst record in the Major Leagues, and a team I'll be seeing next week in the ATL after they finish that series at Target Field), then host Baltimore Thursday in a make-up game that was rained out on its original date of May 9.
Thursday, July 21, 2016
Someone Paid It Forward For Me!
I think I'm burying the lead, but I want to highlight the silver lining as well as the dark cloud, even though the dark cloud really isn't that dark.
I am at my usual morning coffee place, Caribou, the one where my long-time barista left after, like, a dozen years. I have no close relationship with any other person working there (as close as a customer can get with a barista), so I was really scared that I wouldn't feel as welcome at Caribou as I would with her working there every morning. In fact, I have started to think that I would need to find a new coffeehouse to spend my non-employed mornings, just in case.
Everything is fine, for now. I haven't made any personal connections with anyone there, but my deepest, darkest fears that I'll be made to feel unwelcome here at Caribou have been, so far, unfounded. However, this morning there was, you can say, a clusterfuck.
It was kind of busy; there were people waiting to order and there were people waiting to get their drinks. There were three people working there. When it was my turn to order, none of the three were at the cash register. Instead, they were all at the espresso machine. Now, it seemed as though they were all concentrating on alleviating the backlog of people waiting for their drinks. But the fact that none of the three even saw me, let alone saying something like "I'm sorry, please give me a second," confuses and bugs me.
Eventually someone came up to the register and began apologizing -- I think she said something like the espresso machine was broken, but someone was looking over her shoulder while she was preparing drinks, like she's new or something. Anyway, this wasn't the first thing she was going to apologize for. Caribou has this deal where, on Tuesdays and Thursdays in July, a medium coffee is only $1.50. All I have to do is mention it. I did, and my barista said that it costs the regular price of $2.30 or something. I told her I got this damn deal the last time I was here -- on Tuesday. I got some ... perturbed that I stepped out of line in order to open up my Safari on my smartphone, go to the Caribou website, and show her the deal that her company says is going on right now.
After I got back in line and showed her the deal, she, well, said sorry profusely, again. The barista didn't really get it together after that: She gave me the wrong price for the chocolate chip cookie I wanted, so she needed someone else's help for that. And after I gave her my money, she took the order of the person behind me before getting me my cookie.
I'll be honest: I want to think that this person's an idiot. However, it helps a lot that she was honest that she didn't know medium coffees were a buck-fifty. Plus, customer service can be crappy both ways: As bad as I've received shitty service, I've been on the other side where I've taken a lot of bullshit, too, and I don't want to contribute to that. And, hey, if the espresso machine is broken, all three of them needed to put out that fire first. Finally, although I do have other options, I don't think it's safe for me to go anywhere else in the mornings because my parents might go to areas close to those coffeehouses. In other words, losing my temper and mentioning that she's an idiot isn't going to benefit me in the long run, no matter how good it would feel to say it at the time. So, to try and show there are no hard feelings, I threw all my change in as tip. I would probably not throw in as much money if this were a clean, normal transaction.
---
So, to the point I allude to in the title of this blog post. As I stepped away from the line in order to show this new barista that medium coffees are indeed $1.50 Tuesdays and Thursdays in July, someone placing her order hollered at me. "What is it that you ordered?" this woman asked.
Not totally comprehending what is obvious to you guys, I said I had ordered a medium coffee, still waiting for my iPhone 4 to load up the Caribou homepage. The barista interrupted me to ask if I wanted a light or dark roast; like I told her when I initially ordered I wanted a dark, but still I was concentrating on showing her I was supposed to get this discount.
It was somewhere there that it dawned on me: This woman is going to pay for my drink. Oh, great! Except that I don't feel ... worthy of being given a drink. I always feel weird when someone does something nice to me. Don't they know that I'm an asshole?
Nevertheless I said thank you to the person while she was on her way out the door. I do feel bad that she probably paid full price for the medium coffee when she shouldn't have. But she probably bought my drink because she didn't care. That was really nice of her.
I am at my usual morning coffee place, Caribou, the one where my long-time barista left after, like, a dozen years. I have no close relationship with any other person working there (as close as a customer can get with a barista), so I was really scared that I wouldn't feel as welcome at Caribou as I would with her working there every morning. In fact, I have started to think that I would need to find a new coffeehouse to spend my non-employed mornings, just in case.
Everything is fine, for now. I haven't made any personal connections with anyone there, but my deepest, darkest fears that I'll be made to feel unwelcome here at Caribou have been, so far, unfounded. However, this morning there was, you can say, a clusterfuck.
It was kind of busy; there were people waiting to order and there were people waiting to get their drinks. There were three people working there. When it was my turn to order, none of the three were at the cash register. Instead, they were all at the espresso machine. Now, it seemed as though they were all concentrating on alleviating the backlog of people waiting for their drinks. But the fact that none of the three even saw me, let alone saying something like "I'm sorry, please give me a second," confuses and bugs me.
Eventually someone came up to the register and began apologizing -- I think she said something like the espresso machine was broken, but someone was looking over her shoulder while she was preparing drinks, like she's new or something. Anyway, this wasn't the first thing she was going to apologize for. Caribou has this deal where, on Tuesdays and Thursdays in July, a medium coffee is only $1.50. All I have to do is mention it. I did, and my barista said that it costs the regular price of $2.30 or something. I told her I got this damn deal the last time I was here -- on Tuesday. I got some ... perturbed that I stepped out of line in order to open up my Safari on my smartphone, go to the Caribou website, and show her the deal that her company says is going on right now.
After I got back in line and showed her the deal, she, well, said sorry profusely, again. The barista didn't really get it together after that: She gave me the wrong price for the chocolate chip cookie I wanted, so she needed someone else's help for that. And after I gave her my money, she took the order of the person behind me before getting me my cookie.
I'll be honest: I want to think that this person's an idiot. However, it helps a lot that she was honest that she didn't know medium coffees were a buck-fifty. Plus, customer service can be crappy both ways: As bad as I've received shitty service, I've been on the other side where I've taken a lot of bullshit, too, and I don't want to contribute to that. And, hey, if the espresso machine is broken, all three of them needed to put out that fire first. Finally, although I do have other options, I don't think it's safe for me to go anywhere else in the mornings because my parents might go to areas close to those coffeehouses. In other words, losing my temper and mentioning that she's an idiot isn't going to benefit me in the long run, no matter how good it would feel to say it at the time. So, to try and show there are no hard feelings, I threw all my change in as tip. I would probably not throw in as much money if this were a clean, normal transaction.
---
So, to the point I allude to in the title of this blog post. As I stepped away from the line in order to show this new barista that medium coffees are indeed $1.50 Tuesdays and Thursdays in July, someone placing her order hollered at me. "What is it that you ordered?" this woman asked.
Not totally comprehending what is obvious to you guys, I said I had ordered a medium coffee, still waiting for my iPhone 4 to load up the Caribou homepage. The barista interrupted me to ask if I wanted a light or dark roast; like I told her when I initially ordered I wanted a dark, but still I was concentrating on showing her I was supposed to get this discount.
It was somewhere there that it dawned on me: This woman is going to pay for my drink. Oh, great! Except that I don't feel ... worthy of being given a drink. I always feel weird when someone does something nice to me. Don't they know that I'm an asshole?
Nevertheless I said thank you to the person while she was on her way out the door. I do feel bad that she probably paid full price for the medium coffee when she shouldn't have. But she probably bought my drink because she didn't care. That was really nice of her.
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Getting It Up Two Different Ways Yesterday!
Yesterday turned out to be a good day. Saw Finding Dory, which, although not one of the great Pixar flicks like Toy Story or The Incredibles. I was able to see that movie and get to the library in time to do my shoot, which took almost exactly an hour and was very easy (got to talk sports and the new Vikings stadium with the five other people there).
I decided to exercise that evening in an attempt to get my weight under control; when I went to do my physical on Monday, I weighted 177 pounds! On the elliptical machine, I reached 500 calories burned. I never reach 500 calories; it's, like, only the second time in the past 12 months I've exercised out that many calorie! Guess watching WWE Smackdown helps get the heart pumpin'.
And when I got home I jerked off three times. That's three times over the course of ... oh, three hours!!! Wow!!! I think I've only wanked myself three times in the same day once before in my life -- and I'm 40!!! And I know it took me a hell of a lot more than three hours to do this particular Triple Crown!!! I did it first to Vintage Erotica Forum and this category of a guy getting kissed in the lips by one woman and getting his cock sucked by another. Then I saw an Instagram of nine Playboy Playmates hanging out in Catalina Island, and I suddenly had the urge to masturbate again. Finally, I kind of was still feeling horny, so I moseyed on over to Voyeurweb, saw some really hot babes posing, and I had to do it a third time!!! And it felt good, too!!!
And this morning I took a pretty long and intense shit, and now I don't feel bloated anymore! Wish we weren't under a heat advisory like we are until Friday evening, but other than that, I feel pretty good!!
I decided to exercise that evening in an attempt to get my weight under control; when I went to do my physical on Monday, I weighted 177 pounds! On the elliptical machine, I reached 500 calories burned. I never reach 500 calories; it's, like, only the second time in the past 12 months I've exercised out that many calorie! Guess watching WWE Smackdown helps get the heart pumpin'.
And when I got home I jerked off three times. That's three times over the course of ... oh, three hours!!! Wow!!! I think I've only wanked myself three times in the same day once before in my life -- and I'm 40!!! And I know it took me a hell of a lot more than three hours to do this particular Triple Crown!!! I did it first to Vintage Erotica Forum and this category of a guy getting kissed in the lips by one woman and getting his cock sucked by another. Then I saw an Instagram of nine Playboy Playmates hanging out in Catalina Island, and I suddenly had the urge to masturbate again. Finally, I kind of was still feeling horny, so I moseyed on over to Voyeurweb, saw some really hot babes posing, and I had to do it a third time!!! And it felt good, too!!!
And this morning I took a pretty long and intense shit, and now I don't feel bloated anymore! Wish we weren't under a heat advisory like we are until Friday evening, but other than that, I feel pretty good!!
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Showtime!
So, I'm doing a photo shoot or something this afternoon. Was on standby for a few days. Made me nervous because I had scheduled a session in the MRI tube, and at some point, if I didn't hear back, I would have had to make a choice. But thankfully these guys from the shoot said to come on in. They usually tell me the day of, or even the afternoon of, and I hate that.
With things like this, they usually ask that I wear my first choice of dress and two other sets of clothes just in case, so I'll have to figure out how to sneak my bag of clothes one of these days. My hair isn't the greatest -- it's a little longer than my head shot -- and it's sticking up, so it doesn't look that good. Hopefully it'll work.
Haven't done something like this in about a year, the last time I wasn't working. Nervous but excited. I just hope that I can wear a long-sleeved Oxford and long pants in this hot and humid weather without sweating profusely or passing out. Wish me luck!
With things like this, they usually ask that I wear my first choice of dress and two other sets of clothes just in case, so I'll have to figure out how to sneak my bag of clothes one of these days. My hair isn't the greatest -- it's a little longer than my head shot -- and it's sticking up, so it doesn't look that good. Hopefully it'll work.
Haven't done something like this in about a year, the last time I wasn't working. Nervous but excited. I just hope that I can wear a long-sleeved Oxford and long pants in this hot and humid weather without sweating profusely or passing out. Wish me luck!
Monday, July 18, 2016
Not As Bad As I Thought!
OK, so it's the day after the party, and even though there was a lot more food than necessary, and no one used the pool or the hot tub, I think the party went well. I don't think I made too much of a fool of myself, and I think I was able to carry several conversations without too much difficulty.
One thing I learned. Back at this event two years ago, when I was thoroughly undermined and ruined for this event from then on, I was doing a speech during the middle of the party when the host interrupted me, undermined me (again), and asked the crowd of incoming students if they had any questions. To me, at the time, this seemed like an incredibly stupid and self-serving idea. This is a party, not a Q&A. No one wants to stand around listening to other people ask and answer questions. It seemed ridiculous to me. So, last year, I made a point of not doing that. The host of the previous year's event was there and she asked if there would be one, and I did my best to artfully put the kibosh on that; I think I said something to the effect of, "If they had questions, they can ask one of us one-on-one."
(She didn't come for this party. I wonder why. I actually thought they should have come this year, but since we had such a good turnout ... nahhhhhhh!)
It felt good rejecting her suggestion. It was my way of asserting myself and wresting control of this event away from her. After all, I am the president. But, to keep the peace, I was willing to do a Q&A for this party -- you know, as kind of a sop, an olive branch after what I did last year. It's kind of manipulative, but who cares, I think it's better to have them on my side than not.
Well, like I said, they didn't come, so I thought that I could shelve that idea and let the partygoers do their thing like last year. But as the time came to make my speech, the hosts actually said that I should have a Q&A, and in fact I should make all incoming students and alumni announce himself or herself. I had a feeling other people didn't like the Q&A from two years ago, but apparently I was wrong. So, yesterday, I stopped everything and opened up the floor for questions ... which there really wasn't any. So I flipped it around and asked the alumni if they had any advice for the students ... and I and a couple others said a couple things. And that was it.
I still kind of think a Q&A is a momentum-killer, but if other people think it's a good idea, OK, I'll do it from now on. I'll file that away.
Now to get the pictures up and thank everyone for coming. Man, being a social butterfly is exhausting work!
One thing I learned. Back at this event two years ago, when I was thoroughly undermined and ruined for this event from then on, I was doing a speech during the middle of the party when the host interrupted me, undermined me (again), and asked the crowd of incoming students if they had any questions. To me, at the time, this seemed like an incredibly stupid and self-serving idea. This is a party, not a Q&A. No one wants to stand around listening to other people ask and answer questions. It seemed ridiculous to me. So, last year, I made a point of not doing that. The host of the previous year's event was there and she asked if there would be one, and I did my best to artfully put the kibosh on that; I think I said something to the effect of, "If they had questions, they can ask one of us one-on-one."
(She didn't come for this party. I wonder why. I actually thought they should have come this year, but since we had such a good turnout ... nahhhhhhh!)
It felt good rejecting her suggestion. It was my way of asserting myself and wresting control of this event away from her. After all, I am the president. But, to keep the peace, I was willing to do a Q&A for this party -- you know, as kind of a sop, an olive branch after what I did last year. It's kind of manipulative, but who cares, I think it's better to have them on my side than not.
Well, like I said, they didn't come, so I thought that I could shelve that idea and let the partygoers do their thing like last year. But as the time came to make my speech, the hosts actually said that I should have a Q&A, and in fact I should make all incoming students and alumni announce himself or herself. I had a feeling other people didn't like the Q&A from two years ago, but apparently I was wrong. So, yesterday, I stopped everything and opened up the floor for questions ... which there really wasn't any. So I flipped it around and asked the alumni if they had any advice for the students ... and I and a couple others said a couple things. And that was it.
I still kind of think a Q&A is a momentum-killer, but if other people think it's a good idea, OK, I'll do it from now on. I'll file that away.
Now to get the pictures up and thank everyone for coming. Man, being a social butterfly is exhausting work!
Sunday, July 17, 2016
I'm Nervous.
I think I know what I want to say, but I'm not sure if I'll remember everything I want to say. It's the speech that I'm worried about the most -- specifically that I'll look like a chump.
And I feel really bad for being so anxious. The hosts have repeatedly said that they'll take care of everything. That should be a huge relief off my shoulders, but it still isn't. It should; there will be parties where I will have to do more of the heavy lifting, and if I won't relax for this, when will I relax?
I shouldn't let them see me sweat. I know that's not attractive.
OK. Time to go. Time to put my mask on. Wish me luck.
And I feel really bad for being so anxious. The hosts have repeatedly said that they'll take care of everything. That should be a huge relief off my shoulders, but it still isn't. It should; there will be parties where I will have to do more of the heavy lifting, and if I won't relax for this, when will I relax?
I shouldn't let them see me sweat. I know that's not attractive.
OK. Time to go. Time to put my mask on. Wish me luck.
Saturday, July 16, 2016
Nah, I'll Mow Later
Since I'm sticking with this getting-up-at-the-same-time routine (partly because it'll keep the peace at home, partly because it'll help me get up at a decent time during the workweek when I need to act as though I am going to work when I'm unemployed), I have become, to my own self-disappointment, a morning dove. I am actually getting shit done in the morning, even on weekends. Hell, especially on weekends.
One of those things is mowing the lawn. It looks as though the grass needs to be cut weekly, a frequency I don't remember needing to follow ever. But it apparently does, possibly because we've had enough rain to necessitate that. Also, I hear that for healthy lawns you need to cut shallowly but often, so weekly seems to be the best thing to do.
Now, what time of day? Since I insist on being out of the house during the day, I have done it early in the morning, usually Sundays but some Saturdays too, just so I can get that out of the way before I start with my me time. Now that I get up early in the morning, it seemed to fit. And, not for nothing, it appeases my parents, in particular My Father, who seems me doing chores in the morning -- "having a schedule," in his pidgin English.
But that brought up a question I may or may not have researched before: What is the best time of day to mow the lawn? I think I thought this because, a few times at least, when I go over the lawn before I mow it to remove any big branches and stuff, I look down and see the dew that gets on my shoes. To me it's stupid to mow wet grass; I thought it wasn't safe for the grass or the lawnmower. But that's exactly what I'm doing when I mow in the morning. Or maybe I'm paranoid?
Well, I finally remembered to look it up online. The top search on Google said it's best to mow in the morning. But every single link after that said it's best to do it in the late afternoon or evening. I think the consensus reasoning is that it is indeed harmful to the grass to mow it while it has dew on it, yet doing so in the late afternoon or evening still gives the time to "recover" from the "damage" I inflict on it by basically cutting them open. (Aside: Why is the top link on Google, which apparently was bought, giving information contrary to the consensus? That link is for a landscaping service, by the way.)
So now I am at a crossroads. Either keep doing what I'm doing and causing irreparable harm to the grass, or do it when I'm supposed to and fuck up my schedule. I'm not a fan of coming home early, putting on sunblock and bug spray, mowing, then coming back into the house where it'll probably be suppertime. Moreover, in the late afternoon I know I'll be so freakin' tired that I'll probably take a nap and get up when it's too late to mow.
But this weekend? Well, with the biggest event of the alumni club calendar coming tomorrow, I'm not really thinking straight right now. When I get this anxious, I'm much more likely to throw routine out the window. So, right now, I'm blogging this, then eating at Arby's, then going to Trader Joe's to buy some suntan lotion, then working out, then going home early to (hopefully) have the energy to mow the lawn at a better time for the grass. We'll see how it goes for the lawns, for me, and for my folks, who may or may not like me mowing in the afternoon. And then next week maybe I'll just say screw the grass, I'll mow it when I want to.
One of those things is mowing the lawn. It looks as though the grass needs to be cut weekly, a frequency I don't remember needing to follow ever. But it apparently does, possibly because we've had enough rain to necessitate that. Also, I hear that for healthy lawns you need to cut shallowly but often, so weekly seems to be the best thing to do.
Now, what time of day? Since I insist on being out of the house during the day, I have done it early in the morning, usually Sundays but some Saturdays too, just so I can get that out of the way before I start with my me time. Now that I get up early in the morning, it seemed to fit. And, not for nothing, it appeases my parents, in particular My Father, who seems me doing chores in the morning -- "having a schedule," in his pidgin English.
But that brought up a question I may or may not have researched before: What is the best time of day to mow the lawn? I think I thought this because, a few times at least, when I go over the lawn before I mow it to remove any big branches and stuff, I look down and see the dew that gets on my shoes. To me it's stupid to mow wet grass; I thought it wasn't safe for the grass or the lawnmower. But that's exactly what I'm doing when I mow in the morning. Or maybe I'm paranoid?
Well, I finally remembered to look it up online. The top search on Google said it's best to mow in the morning. But every single link after that said it's best to do it in the late afternoon or evening. I think the consensus reasoning is that it is indeed harmful to the grass to mow it while it has dew on it, yet doing so in the late afternoon or evening still gives the time to "recover" from the "damage" I inflict on it by basically cutting them open. (Aside: Why is the top link on Google, which apparently was bought, giving information contrary to the consensus? That link is for a landscaping service, by the way.)
So now I am at a crossroads. Either keep doing what I'm doing and causing irreparable harm to the grass, or do it when I'm supposed to and fuck up my schedule. I'm not a fan of coming home early, putting on sunblock and bug spray, mowing, then coming back into the house where it'll probably be suppertime. Moreover, in the late afternoon I know I'll be so freakin' tired that I'll probably take a nap and get up when it's too late to mow.
But this weekend? Well, with the biggest event of the alumni club calendar coming tomorrow, I'm not really thinking straight right now. When I get this anxious, I'm much more likely to throw routine out the window. So, right now, I'm blogging this, then eating at Arby's, then going to Trader Joe's to buy some suntan lotion, then working out, then going home early to (hopefully) have the energy to mow the lawn at a better time for the grass. We'll see how it goes for the lawns, for me, and for my folks, who may or may not like me mowing in the afternoon. And then next week maybe I'll just say screw the grass, I'll mow it when I want to.
Friday, July 15, 2016
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -1). I thought that things were looking up, and that turn towards the better continued with the squad taking two-of-three at Texas before the All-Star Break, the team with the best record in the American League. The Twins also won the series between the two at Target Field, so they've gone 4-2 against them. Baseball, and sports, is funny like that.
I was just as surprised that this club has scored the most runs over the past six weeks. Conversely, I saw on the ESPN BottomLine that the Twins are nevertheless on pace to win only 59 games, which would make the 2016 team The Worst Team In Minnesota Twins History. That they're playing better lately has to mean that they'll win more games than 59 ... right?
They kick off the second half of the year at home against AL Central Division-leading Cleveland for three starting tonight. They then hit the road for a three-game series vs. Detroit starting on Monday and a four-game series versus Boston starting on Thursday.
I was just as surprised that this club has scored the most runs over the past six weeks. Conversely, I saw on the ESPN BottomLine that the Twins are nevertheless on pace to win only 59 games, which would make the 2016 team The Worst Team In Minnesota Twins History. That they're playing better lately has to mean that they'll win more games than 59 ... right?
They kick off the second half of the year at home against AL Central Division-leading Cleveland for three starting tonight. They then hit the road for a three-game series vs. Detroit starting on Monday and a four-game series versus Boston starting on Thursday.
Thursday, July 14, 2016
Dodging The Rain
Noticed that each of the past two days, rain came, and then stopped, when I didn't see it in the forecast. Also, I was able to dodge the rain I didn't expect.
Last (Wednesday) night, I ate at Giordano's. I went in while it was dry outside; I sit down, wait to order, turn around to look through the windows to outside, and I see the puddles on the road. Did it rain? I asked myself.
And then this (Thursday) afternoon, I was doing the second of two sessions in the MRI machine. (Never been in the tube on two separate occasions on the same day before.) It was a cloudy and relatively cool day, but it was dry. But once I got done, there was this dew in the air, and I came across my car as well as the car parked ahead of mine with raindrops on them. Did it rain again? I asked myself.
Felt good having the good timing to miss the rain. But then I went to the pharmacy to get a refill of my nasal spray (which they didn't have), and when I walked out I got hit by a heavy drizzle. So I didn't completely dodge the rain. Which means the title of this blog post is kind of misleading.
Last (Wednesday) night, I ate at Giordano's. I went in while it was dry outside; I sit down, wait to order, turn around to look through the windows to outside, and I see the puddles on the road. Did it rain? I asked myself.
And then this (Thursday) afternoon, I was doing the second of two sessions in the MRI machine. (Never been in the tube on two separate occasions on the same day before.) It was a cloudy and relatively cool day, but it was dry. But once I got done, there was this dew in the air, and I came across my car as well as the car parked ahead of mine with raindrops on them. Did it rain again? I asked myself.
Felt good having the good timing to miss the rain. But then I went to the pharmacy to get a refill of my nasal spray (which they didn't have), and when I walked out I got hit by a heavy drizzle. So I didn't completely dodge the rain. Which means the title of this blog post is kind of misleading.
Actually, I Feel Good!
Went to the house of the hosts of the party last (Wednesday) night. Their place is a lot more opulent than I expected. I mean, Wow. And they have the perfect set-up and know what they're going to do on Sunday because they have hosted parties in the past. Moreover, they're taking care of the food. Beyond that, they have decorations. And finally, they say they'll prepare everything in time for the event, so we don't have to come in and volunteer.
In other words, they're set. And that means we don't have to do a darn thing besides show up and take pictures and give a speech ... oh, Christ, I still have to give a speech. Oh, well, if that's the only thing I have to worry about now, that's fine!
It feels so good to have a burden lifted off of your shoulders. But I'm scared that in being pleasantly surprised at how things I'm stressed over seem to be taken care of, I am too quick in believing that everything's been taken care of, meaning I get complacent when I shouldn't. Is that the case here?
In other words, they're set. And that means we don't have to do a darn thing besides show up and take pictures and give a speech ... oh, Christ, I still have to give a speech. Oh, well, if that's the only thing I have to worry about now, that's fine!
It feels so good to have a burden lifted off of your shoulders. But I'm scared that in being pleasantly surprised at how things I'm stressed over seem to be taken care of, I am too quick in believing that everything's been taken care of, meaning I get complacent when I shouldn't. Is that the case here?
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
My Very Late 2015 Playboy Playmate Of The Year Decision
For a perv like myself, I should be all over this shit faster -- like, January 1, 2016. Alas, the thought that I should give my thoughts on who Playboy's Playmate Of The Year for The Very Last Year They're Showing Naked Models was only a distraction zooming in front of me at a million miles per hour, and after that I forgot.
And then I got tipped through a post from a Playmate I am Facebook friends with that the magazine had already picked their PMOY: Eugena Washington, Miss December 2015 and the third-place winner in America's Next Top Model 7. I looked through the June 2016 edition of Playboy in May. And I think I looked through it at my local Barnes & Noble, because again, there ain't no naked ladies in there anymore, so I can. That is traditionally the edition where the Playmate Of The Year is given a pictorial. This time, of course, is different because the PMOY spread is fully clothed, naked ass excepted. That seems so weird to me -- you display your tits and pussy, and six months later you're clothed? Never in Playboy.
As for Washington herself ... eh. I don't remember her in ANTM7, I saw her naked spread online, and she's, well, thin, but that's it. She's not disgusting by any means. But I have some thoughts about which of the dozen Playmates from last year should be PMOY instead of her.
I can easily begin by eliminating some. Frankly, all of the dozen girls who posed are hot, so I'm using the tie-breaker of social media -- that is, am I friends with them on Facebook and, very recently, Instagram? I do not see Alexandra Tyler (April), Brittany Brousseau (May), Kaylia Cassandra (June) or, frankly, Washington (December), so they're out.
My recollections get fuzzy from here on out. I may have seen pictures from Brittny Ward (January), Kayla Rae Reid (July), Dominique Jane (August) and Ana Cheri (October), but I don't remember for sure, so I'll just eliminate them now. From there, there's Kayslee Collins (February), who actually was a child actor and is now branching off into music. I remember her because she posted a video on Facebook about getting naked. She's really into erotica, which I like. But I haven't seen her since.
Two others are close, but they are tied. Chelsie Aryn (March) is on Facebook, and I remember seeing several photos of her in her personal life, including one where she was posing with a soldier and a friend of her brother's who had come home from his tour of duty. I appreciate a Playmate who allows her fans into her life like that. But, unfortunately, she's on the chubby side. In the meantime, there's Monica Sims (September), who I'm reasonably certain I'm Instagram friends with. She's blonde and therefore hot, and I'm pretty sure I've seen her in a bikini showing off her ass. But because I'm not totally sure, and because I am not friends with her on Facebook, she, like Chelsie, comes up short.
That leaves one, and I think she's so hot that I totally have thrown away my standards in naming here PMOY. It's Rachel Harris, Miss November. She's hot and blonde, and most of her shots in her spread are those peek-a-boo shots which exposes her girl parts in implied states of undress, which makes me hot in particular. (I think there are a couple shots where she's unzipped her jeans to expose her pussy because she's not wearing any underwear.) The thing is, I'm pretty sure she's not a model at all. She's an artist by trade; the story accompanying her pictorial says that she had an exhibition in her native Los Angeles in late 2015. That makes me think she only did this for the publicity. But you know what? She's so fucking beautiful, I don't care. And I guess I don't care that I'm not on her Facebook or Instagram, or if she's even on social media. That makes me a hypocrite, and I'm OK with that.
So there you go, Ms. Harris, Miss November 2015. You are my pick for what will be the last real Playboy Playmate Of The Year. Use your title wisely!
And then I got tipped through a post from a Playmate I am Facebook friends with that the magazine had already picked their PMOY: Eugena Washington, Miss December 2015 and the third-place winner in America's Next Top Model 7. I looked through the June 2016 edition of Playboy in May. And I think I looked through it at my local Barnes & Noble, because again, there ain't no naked ladies in there anymore, so I can. That is traditionally the edition where the Playmate Of The Year is given a pictorial. This time, of course, is different because the PMOY spread is fully clothed, naked ass excepted. That seems so weird to me -- you display your tits and pussy, and six months later you're clothed? Never in Playboy.
As for Washington herself ... eh. I don't remember her in ANTM7, I saw her naked spread online, and she's, well, thin, but that's it. She's not disgusting by any means. But I have some thoughts about which of the dozen Playmates from last year should be PMOY instead of her.
I can easily begin by eliminating some. Frankly, all of the dozen girls who posed are hot, so I'm using the tie-breaker of social media -- that is, am I friends with them on Facebook and, very recently, Instagram? I do not see Alexandra Tyler (April), Brittany Brousseau (May), Kaylia Cassandra (June) or, frankly, Washington (December), so they're out.
My recollections get fuzzy from here on out. I may have seen pictures from Brittny Ward (January), Kayla Rae Reid (July), Dominique Jane (August) and Ana Cheri (October), but I don't remember for sure, so I'll just eliminate them now. From there, there's Kayslee Collins (February), who actually was a child actor and is now branching off into music. I remember her because she posted a video on Facebook about getting naked. She's really into erotica, which I like. But I haven't seen her since.
Two others are close, but they are tied. Chelsie Aryn (March) is on Facebook, and I remember seeing several photos of her in her personal life, including one where she was posing with a soldier and a friend of her brother's who had come home from his tour of duty. I appreciate a Playmate who allows her fans into her life like that. But, unfortunately, she's on the chubby side. In the meantime, there's Monica Sims (September), who I'm reasonably certain I'm Instagram friends with. She's blonde and therefore hot, and I'm pretty sure I've seen her in a bikini showing off her ass. But because I'm not totally sure, and because I am not friends with her on Facebook, she, like Chelsie, comes up short.
That leaves one, and I think she's so hot that I totally have thrown away my standards in naming here PMOY. It's Rachel Harris, Miss November. She's hot and blonde, and most of her shots in her spread are those peek-a-boo shots which exposes her girl parts in implied states of undress, which makes me hot in particular. (I think there are a couple shots where she's unzipped her jeans to expose her pussy because she's not wearing any underwear.) The thing is, I'm pretty sure she's not a model at all. She's an artist by trade; the story accompanying her pictorial says that she had an exhibition in her native Los Angeles in late 2015. That makes me think she only did this for the publicity. But you know what? She's so fucking beautiful, I don't care. And I guess I don't care that I'm not on her Facebook or Instagram, or if she's even on social media. That makes me a hypocrite, and I'm OK with that.
So there you go, Ms. Harris, Miss November 2015. You are my pick for what will be the last real Playboy Playmate Of The Year. Use your title wisely!
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Well, I Guess It's Time To Get The Passport, Fat Boy
You know, for all the shit I've cut open my veins for on Wailing And Failing, have I talked about my missing passport?
If I haven't, I have a hell of a lot of catching up to do. But here's the story short: After my parents sent Grandmother to the old folks' home, My Fucking Father cleaned out her bedroom. And then, even though he didn't tell me, he cleaned out my bedroom in order to move all of my stuff into Grandmother's home. (Since I didn't agree to it, I still consider the room I currently sleep in "Grandmother's bedroom.")
He cleaned out everything, but what irked me in particular is that he cleaned out all the stuff in my nigthstand's drawer so he could move the nightstand more easily. I keep a lot of junk in there, to be sure, but I put a lot of important stuff in there, too -- stuff such as my passport.
So one day I come back home and all my stuff are in bags. And -- I could be wrong, but I'll say that he did -- My Fucking Father threatened to set all my bags out for recycling unless I do something about it. So I had no choice. Even though I wasn't exactly sure they knew -- they might have known then; they know now -- I had to drop everything and take all those bags to storage for safe-keeping.
I didn't have time to search for my important documents, such as my passport. I swore I would look for it later, when the coast was clear. But ... well, OK, I didn't take the time to thoroughly look through all my bags. I took out, like, four bags, and they weren't there. So even though I know I have my passport, it was, for all intents and purposes, gone.
I knew I had to get a new passport soon, but besides maybe visiting Grandmother in Hong Kong, I had no reason to. But then Mother, shortly after she came home from Las Vegas, asked me if I had declared my passport lost yet. I was at my computer when she asked this, and I knew there was no way I would be able to find my passport before something would happen where I would need it -- say, Buddha forgive me, Grandmother taking a turn for the worse. So, immediately, right then and there, I filled out a DS-64, the online government application declaring that I have lost my passport. Once I submitted it, my passport, which is in my storage unit somewhere, is invalid.
---
I was going to get a replacement ... soon. Whenever. I still had no pressing need to go overseas, and I was subliminally discouraged that I would probably have to pay extra for replacing a lost passport. I have some free time now between projects, though, and I figured I would fill out the application to get a new one before I would go back to my scoring project and/or a new job that I found in August.
But yesterday my parents hit me with a surprise. My sister and brother-in-law are coming home next month for a few weeks. And that gives the family an idea of yet another road trip, this time to Niagara Falls. Finding time to do this is going to be a problem; I technically am not working then, and I could just do this week-long vacation without any issue, but I am looking for work, and I'm scared that taking this vacation would preclude me from some good work opportunities down the road. (Also, I have three trips I'm taking this year, and even I kind of think that I'm taking too many this year!) But as you probably know, Niagara Falls, or at least the side that's cool, is in Ontario, which is in Canada ... which means I will need a passport to go on this trip.
So now I'll need to get this passport. As soon as they mentioned this possible plan, I thought, "Great -- this is the thing that'll make me get that passport." And I mentally made a list of things I have to do: Fill out that application, get a passport photo, ask my folks to get my birth certificate, find time to go to a passport office, get money I really shouldn't spend. It's that birth certificate that I was thinking about after dinner. And it was something that probably dawned on My Father after dinner, because in the evening he knocked on my door (while I was sleeping) and asked me if I got my passport yet.
I'm pretty sure he was disappointed in me when I told him the truth. But I was surprised that he had my birth certificate downstairs. I thought it was in our safe deposit box at the bank. Anyway, I got it, and then I spent some time last night doing the DS-11, which is the app that you need to fill out to get what is essentially a new passport. I got it, and unless I have a huge problem printing it from my Adobe, that's done. Need to get a photo, which I think I'll do tonight. I'll probably get the cash for it from the bank tomorrow; I'll convert the case from the scholarship money for the alumni chapter to a check then, too, so I can deposit it through my smart.
So, I just need to take my photo, my application and my birth certificate with me to a passport office, probably on Thursday, and I'll get my passport ... hopefully in time; they say it takes up to six weeks, and this road trip should be in eight weeks. But I've heard that passports have a backlog. Will I get it in time? I'm not going to spend the extra money to expedite it; I'm going to just roll the dice. Forgive me, but I guess I still have some residual anger over My Father moving all my crap without my permission.
---
OK, the "Fat Boy" part of my title. I got so psychologically anxious that My Fucking Father would be mad at me for not getting a passport by now (he's harped on me to get one in the past, several times) that, once I got on my computer last night to begin my DS-11, I started eating. I actually was pretty good before I got home because I exercised. I was so hungry, in fact, that I stopped by the combination gas station/Taco Bell close to home to get a burrito and Coke, anticipating that what I would have for dinner would be something I wouldn't totally be engorged with. It actually was soup, but even after that I didn't feel fat.
But after Father asked that damn question? Well, first I ate some flan Mother made. Then I went to finish off the bag of chips my cousin said I could take home after his 4th of July party. Then I hoovered down some peanuts and chased them all down with some mango-flavored lemonade. That night, boy, I swear my muffin top got, like, 20% bigger. And even now, after I had a cookie and coffee, I know I got real, real fat. And all because My Fucking Father asked me a question.
Moreover, I plan on seeing not one but two movies back-to-back this afternoon; I think The Shallows and Central Intelligence will be gone this time next Tuesday. I always get popcorn and Coke when I go to the movies, and that won't change. But I still have the banana and sandwich Mother packed for me. And then there's dinner. So even though I didn't plan on it, and even though I don't want to, I'm going to work out this evening. I have to.
If I haven't, I have a hell of a lot of catching up to do. But here's the story short: After my parents sent Grandmother to the old folks' home, My Fucking Father cleaned out her bedroom. And then, even though he didn't tell me, he cleaned out my bedroom in order to move all of my stuff into Grandmother's home. (Since I didn't agree to it, I still consider the room I currently sleep in "Grandmother's bedroom.")
He cleaned out everything, but what irked me in particular is that he cleaned out all the stuff in my nigthstand's drawer so he could move the nightstand more easily. I keep a lot of junk in there, to be sure, but I put a lot of important stuff in there, too -- stuff such as my passport.
So one day I come back home and all my stuff are in bags. And -- I could be wrong, but I'll say that he did -- My Fucking Father threatened to set all my bags out for recycling unless I do something about it. So I had no choice. Even though I wasn't exactly sure they knew -- they might have known then; they know now -- I had to drop everything and take all those bags to storage for safe-keeping.
I didn't have time to search for my important documents, such as my passport. I swore I would look for it later, when the coast was clear. But ... well, OK, I didn't take the time to thoroughly look through all my bags. I took out, like, four bags, and they weren't there. So even though I know I have my passport, it was, for all intents and purposes, gone.
I knew I had to get a new passport soon, but besides maybe visiting Grandmother in Hong Kong, I had no reason to. But then Mother, shortly after she came home from Las Vegas, asked me if I had declared my passport lost yet. I was at my computer when she asked this, and I knew there was no way I would be able to find my passport before something would happen where I would need it -- say, Buddha forgive me, Grandmother taking a turn for the worse. So, immediately, right then and there, I filled out a DS-64, the online government application declaring that I have lost my passport. Once I submitted it, my passport, which is in my storage unit somewhere, is invalid.
---
I was going to get a replacement ... soon. Whenever. I still had no pressing need to go overseas, and I was subliminally discouraged that I would probably have to pay extra for replacing a lost passport. I have some free time now between projects, though, and I figured I would fill out the application to get a new one before I would go back to my scoring project and/or a new job that I found in August.
But yesterday my parents hit me with a surprise. My sister and brother-in-law are coming home next month for a few weeks. And that gives the family an idea of yet another road trip, this time to Niagara Falls. Finding time to do this is going to be a problem; I technically am not working then, and I could just do this week-long vacation without any issue, but I am looking for work, and I'm scared that taking this vacation would preclude me from some good work opportunities down the road. (Also, I have three trips I'm taking this year, and even I kind of think that I'm taking too many this year!) But as you probably know, Niagara Falls, or at least the side that's cool, is in Ontario, which is in Canada ... which means I will need a passport to go on this trip.
So now I'll need to get this passport. As soon as they mentioned this possible plan, I thought, "Great -- this is the thing that'll make me get that passport." And I mentally made a list of things I have to do: Fill out that application, get a passport photo, ask my folks to get my birth certificate, find time to go to a passport office, get money I really shouldn't spend. It's that birth certificate that I was thinking about after dinner. And it was something that probably dawned on My Father after dinner, because in the evening he knocked on my door (while I was sleeping) and asked me if I got my passport yet.
I'm pretty sure he was disappointed in me when I told him the truth. But I was surprised that he had my birth certificate downstairs. I thought it was in our safe deposit box at the bank. Anyway, I got it, and then I spent some time last night doing the DS-11, which is the app that you need to fill out to get what is essentially a new passport. I got it, and unless I have a huge problem printing it from my Adobe, that's done. Need to get a photo, which I think I'll do tonight. I'll probably get the cash for it from the bank tomorrow; I'll convert the case from the scholarship money for the alumni chapter to a check then, too, so I can deposit it through my smart.
So, I just need to take my photo, my application and my birth certificate with me to a passport office, probably on Thursday, and I'll get my passport ... hopefully in time; they say it takes up to six weeks, and this road trip should be in eight weeks. But I've heard that passports have a backlog. Will I get it in time? I'm not going to spend the extra money to expedite it; I'm going to just roll the dice. Forgive me, but I guess I still have some residual anger over My Father moving all my crap without my permission.
---
OK, the "Fat Boy" part of my title. I got so psychologically anxious that My Fucking Father would be mad at me for not getting a passport by now (he's harped on me to get one in the past, several times) that, once I got on my computer last night to begin my DS-11, I started eating. I actually was pretty good before I got home because I exercised. I was so hungry, in fact, that I stopped by the combination gas station/Taco Bell close to home to get a burrito and Coke, anticipating that what I would have for dinner would be something I wouldn't totally be engorged with. It actually was soup, but even after that I didn't feel fat.
But after Father asked that damn question? Well, first I ate some flan Mother made. Then I went to finish off the bag of chips my cousin said I could take home after his 4th of July party. Then I hoovered down some peanuts and chased them all down with some mango-flavored lemonade. That night, boy, I swear my muffin top got, like, 20% bigger. And even now, after I had a cookie and coffee, I know I got real, real fat. And all because My Fucking Father asked me a question.
Moreover, I plan on seeing not one but two movies back-to-back this afternoon; I think The Shallows and Central Intelligence will be gone this time next Tuesday. I always get popcorn and Coke when I go to the movies, and that won't change. But I still have the banana and sandwich Mother packed for me. And then there's dinner. So even though I didn't plan on it, and even though I don't want to, I'm going to work out this evening. I have to.
Monday, July 11, 2016
T-1 Week And I Am STILL FREAKING OUT!!!
My anxiety is getting scant better. I still feel as though I could do more planning, but I've been way too lazy to do it. Meanwhile, although I've had some people register, just today more people said on Facebook that they could not join. Oh, and those two biddies who undermined me at this event two years have yet to say whether or not they're coming. At this point I'd be relieved if they would come because that would mean there would be more people.
On the bright side, possibly, is that even though I'm sweating the small stuff, the host of the event appears not to be. We talked over Facebook and he said that he doesn't mind paying for the food for the whole thing. He even said he'll get the cake. That is an enormous burden lifted off of my shoulders.
Now, to hope that people show up. Guess that's my job, with promoting and stuff. I just packed up all the stuff that we're giving away; I plan on snapping photos (with the help of *a***, who I'm seeing tomorrow morning) and then posting them through social media -- "Hey, come to our party and get free stuff!" That's the best I can do. Well, that's all I can do. Now, I just have to do it and hope it works.
But will it?
On the bright side, possibly, is that even though I'm sweating the small stuff, the host of the event appears not to be. We talked over Facebook and he said that he doesn't mind paying for the food for the whole thing. He even said he'll get the cake. That is an enormous burden lifted off of my shoulders.
Now, to hope that people show up. Guess that's my job, with promoting and stuff. I just packed up all the stuff that we're giving away; I plan on snapping photos (with the help of *a***, who I'm seeing tomorrow morning) and then posting them through social media -- "Hey, come to our party and get free stuff!" That's the best I can do. Well, that's all I can do. Now, I just have to do it and hope it works.
But will it?
Sunday, July 10, 2016
The Closing Of New Buildings
These buildings aren't technically "new," per se, because I haven't gotten around to talking about this the past, uh, few years. But they were new back then -- trust me!
The "new" I'm talking about are the new buildings that I saw a few (OK, maybe several) years ago that were cropping up. First was a Walgreen's, a brand new one of which was built on a highway kind of close to us. I didn't think this highway was a burgeoning area for business. Nonetheless it was very jarring, in a positive way, to see this beautiful (or at least new) edifice cropping up in a place where nothing new would grow.
But then it was gone. Poof! I think I may have seen a closing sign, but maybe a year after all this foofooraw over it opening, it closed up shop. Seriously, they tore down the signage not too long after they shut 'er down.
Don't know why, but something else happened that might explain a part of this situation. I think that a little after that Walgreen's opened, a brand-new CVS opened further down the highway. Except that, after the Walgreen's closed, the CVS magically converted to a Walgreen's. Or at least I think that's what happened; looking at it nowadays, the architecture of the building looks like that of a CVS, but it's a Walgreen's. So I'm guessing that shortly after Walgreen's built and opened a store and CVS opened their store, Walgreen's agreed to take over the CVS and abandon their old place. So the question then becomes why did CVS build up a building and then leave.
The other building I'm talking about is a Shell gas station somewhat close to me also, north of the closest mall from home. There was a lot of hoopla surrounding its grand opening, as I recall; we got fliers through the mail with coupons, so I made a visit or two. If it's the gas station I remember, it was, as far as gas stations go, very well-appointed and even opulent. It was big, it had a huge bakery case, it may have even had a sushi bar. (OK, it didn't have a sushi bar. But it could have sold sushi.) I also remember that its parking lot had a spot with an electrical charge station, which I thought was very progressive, since this business' main product is gasoline.
But then it was gone, too. Poof! I was driving home from working out and I saw it totally abandoned as well. Don't know why. Didn't think it was losing business. Did Shell decide it was so bad of a location that it cut its losses? If that's the case, though, then why in the heck did it build a brand-new building from scratch? Kind of like with CVS, they poured all this money into creating a spanking new edifice only to pull up stakes and leave. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
With it being torn down to its brick shell, graffiti artists have tagged it in the several years since it died. Sad, and it might attract worse crime if that isn't cleaned up (although hopefully it already has). But I can't think it makes good business sense to create something entirely new and then just give up within, like, a year of its opening. Don't know if it's internal business plans or external economic pressures, but really, I can't think of a logical excuse for that. It's extremely strange to me.
The "new" I'm talking about are the new buildings that I saw a few (OK, maybe several) years ago that were cropping up. First was a Walgreen's, a brand new one of which was built on a highway kind of close to us. I didn't think this highway was a burgeoning area for business. Nonetheless it was very jarring, in a positive way, to see this beautiful (or at least new) edifice cropping up in a place where nothing new would grow.
But then it was gone. Poof! I think I may have seen a closing sign, but maybe a year after all this foofooraw over it opening, it closed up shop. Seriously, they tore down the signage not too long after they shut 'er down.
Don't know why, but something else happened that might explain a part of this situation. I think that a little after that Walgreen's opened, a brand-new CVS opened further down the highway. Except that, after the Walgreen's closed, the CVS magically converted to a Walgreen's. Or at least I think that's what happened; looking at it nowadays, the architecture of the building looks like that of a CVS, but it's a Walgreen's. So I'm guessing that shortly after Walgreen's built and opened a store and CVS opened their store, Walgreen's agreed to take over the CVS and abandon their old place. So the question then becomes why did CVS build up a building and then leave.
The other building I'm talking about is a Shell gas station somewhat close to me also, north of the closest mall from home. There was a lot of hoopla surrounding its grand opening, as I recall; we got fliers through the mail with coupons, so I made a visit or two. If it's the gas station I remember, it was, as far as gas stations go, very well-appointed and even opulent. It was big, it had a huge bakery case, it may have even had a sushi bar. (OK, it didn't have a sushi bar. But it could have sold sushi.) I also remember that its parking lot had a spot with an electrical charge station, which I thought was very progressive, since this business' main product is gasoline.
But then it was gone, too. Poof! I was driving home from working out and I saw it totally abandoned as well. Don't know why. Didn't think it was losing business. Did Shell decide it was so bad of a location that it cut its losses? If that's the case, though, then why in the heck did it build a brand-new building from scratch? Kind of like with CVS, they poured all this money into creating a spanking new edifice only to pull up stakes and leave. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
With it being torn down to its brick shell, graffiti artists have tagged it in the several years since it died. Sad, and it might attract worse crime if that isn't cleaned up (although hopefully it already has). But I can't think it makes good business sense to create something entirely new and then just give up within, like, a year of its opening. Don't know if it's internal business plans or external economic pressures, but really, I can't think of a logical excuse for that. It's extremely strange to me.
Saturday, July 9, 2016
They Were Being So, So Rude!
Sorry, I'm using that title because I still can't shake what that bitch at The Wienery said to me. You fucking let me in anyway!
I've been inundated by weird and therefore stupid people lately. There are two of them that I want to highlight.
---
The first was at the Nomad. I was just sitting down, minding my own business, when a guy comes up to me, points at the shirt I bought from the Nomad celebrating the Copa America Centenario, and goes, "You watch the Copa?"
"Yeah," I replied, looking forward to making conversation. And we did. And then the match started (it was the Euro semifinal where Portugal eliminated Wales, 2-0). I thought he would do the decent thing and quiet down after the opening kick. But he didn't. Well, he would go silent for a while, and then he would start up with something, like how he didn't like the Copa because there were too many dirty players, or Christiano Ronaldo is a dick, etc. Now, these are fine conversations to have ... before the match. But frankly, I was there to watch the match, and so the decent thing to do is to quiet down and keep the talking to a minimum -- especially if the person you're talking to is someone you don't know and in fact is someone you just decided to strike up a conversation with. I was trying to be nice, but at some point common sense has to kick in, and it didn't with this guy.
That was annoying, but something he did really set me off. He continued to stand up to watch the match while talking to me. I was sitting at a table, looking at the same TV screen he was. I was on a tall, small circular table, with a second chair, but I had some stuff on the table -- my hat, my watch (I take it off especially when it's hot and I'm sweaty), and a pizza box from a place I bought some pizza to eat at the Nomad.
So there is stuff on "my" table. Furthermore, this guy, at least friendly (in my point-of-view) at the start, was still not "my friend." In other words, I didn't invite this guy to my table. Nevertheless, at some point in the first half, he comes back with a coaster, sets it down on my table, and sets his drink on it. Like he has any right to use my goddamn table. He even has the audacity to move the pizza box so it's not in his way. Oh, sorry, stranger I just met who won't shut up, I didn't mean to have my shit in your way on my fucking table.
I don't know if he detected it, specially since I was beginning to ignore him as the match went on. But when I saw him invading my space without my permission, I just shut down. I answered some of the questions he prodded me with, but I refused to make eye contact with him from that point on. I don't think he got the message at first. But then I ignored him when he noticed the beer bottle chandelier at the front door. And then he tried to strike up a final conversation about the U.S. Women's National (soccer) Team, and I think he disagreed with something I said; I talked about how the new formation propelled the team to last year's Women's World Cup title, and he said it was a victory for women's rights, which it was, but that's not what I was talking about. Finally, he shut up and drifted away somewhere else in the bar.
Some people, you know?
---
And then yesterday (Friday), there was this weirdo at the fitness center I work out at. I've seen him a few times; he has a speech impediment and may have mental difficulties. I hadn't talked to him until earlier this week, where he told me I was his "frennn." OK, I guess. He seems fine, I just don't know what more he would want from me, if he does.
So it was just the two of us yesterday. I was there when I ate at Blaze Pizza at the U. for lunch, so I had a cup of Coke with me. (I know it's not healthy to replenish your fluids from exercising by drinking a soft drink, but I figure that I'm actively using the sugar and calories I'm drinking anyway.)
I got done with my 40 minutes on the elliptical. I get off the bike, take several deep sips of Coke, then grab my banana and leave the fitness room in order to eat the banana and cool off. I tried going to the other rink, where the refrigeration of the rink radiates the coolness throughout the entire area, but that area was closed.
So I eat the banana, grab a sip of water and come back to the exercise room. And my cup of Coke from Blaze was missing. There was some left, and I was thirsty, therefore I wanted to know where it went to. Just out of curiosity, I looked in the trash can, and there it was, my cup, not empty yet, sitting on the bottom.
I was gone five minutes and the only place I went to was the lobby just outside the fitness room. So this "frennn" is the only person that was there while I was gone. He was exercising on a bike, so I tried to get his attention. First he didn't hear me, or he didn't comprehend me. Finally I stepped inbetween him and the TV he was watching to ask where my drink went. And he said some gibberish I didn't understand. Finally, what I got out of him was that he was there the whole time, he thought I left for the day, and all he had was gum. I don't think he was saying he did not throw away my Coke, but I'm not sure if he quite comprehended what he clearly did. I mean, what kind of guy takes it upon himself to clean up? And who throws away a cup of Coke that's not his? Seriously, he's there to work out, not be a custodian.
There are huge windows so I could have seen what he was doing inside the fitness room from the lobby. I should have looked in there, in retrospect, but seriously, why the hell do I have to monitor whether some dumbass throws my cup away?
I couldn't just reach down there and grab it; that's gross. There were some gulps in it, but that's fine, it's gone. I left shortly after the attendant went up and said that the exercise room was closing at 5. This guy may not have understood what was going on.
On my way out he hoped I would see him tomorrow, which is today, which is Saturday. Honestly, I planned on working out in the afternoon, or, well, now, as I am typing this from the library. But I am so weirded out and pissed off that I am not working out until this evening, after dinner. I'm just going to start avoiding this guy. Hope to Buddha he's not there tonight.
---
Oh, and back on Sunday I ate at the Wendy's close to the library where I'm blog posting now, and he was just talking to himself, to no one in particular. My God, I was afraid he was going to just start punching someone, like me.
Where do all these fucking people come from?
I've been inundated by weird and therefore stupid people lately. There are two of them that I want to highlight.
---
The first was at the Nomad. I was just sitting down, minding my own business, when a guy comes up to me, points at the shirt I bought from the Nomad celebrating the Copa America Centenario, and goes, "You watch the Copa?"
"Yeah," I replied, looking forward to making conversation. And we did. And then the match started (it was the Euro semifinal where Portugal eliminated Wales, 2-0). I thought he would do the decent thing and quiet down after the opening kick. But he didn't. Well, he would go silent for a while, and then he would start up with something, like how he didn't like the Copa because there were too many dirty players, or Christiano Ronaldo is a dick, etc. Now, these are fine conversations to have ... before the match. But frankly, I was there to watch the match, and so the decent thing to do is to quiet down and keep the talking to a minimum -- especially if the person you're talking to is someone you don't know and in fact is someone you just decided to strike up a conversation with. I was trying to be nice, but at some point common sense has to kick in, and it didn't with this guy.
That was annoying, but something he did really set me off. He continued to stand up to watch the match while talking to me. I was sitting at a table, looking at the same TV screen he was. I was on a tall, small circular table, with a second chair, but I had some stuff on the table -- my hat, my watch (I take it off especially when it's hot and I'm sweaty), and a pizza box from a place I bought some pizza to eat at the Nomad.
So there is stuff on "my" table. Furthermore, this guy, at least friendly (in my point-of-view) at the start, was still not "my friend." In other words, I didn't invite this guy to my table. Nevertheless, at some point in the first half, he comes back with a coaster, sets it down on my table, and sets his drink on it. Like he has any right to use my goddamn table. He even has the audacity to move the pizza box so it's not in his way. Oh, sorry, stranger I just met who won't shut up, I didn't mean to have my shit in your way on my fucking table.
I don't know if he detected it, specially since I was beginning to ignore him as the match went on. But when I saw him invading my space without my permission, I just shut down. I answered some of the questions he prodded me with, but I refused to make eye contact with him from that point on. I don't think he got the message at first. But then I ignored him when he noticed the beer bottle chandelier at the front door. And then he tried to strike up a final conversation about the U.S. Women's National (soccer) Team, and I think he disagreed with something I said; I talked about how the new formation propelled the team to last year's Women's World Cup title, and he said it was a victory for women's rights, which it was, but that's not what I was talking about. Finally, he shut up and drifted away somewhere else in the bar.
Some people, you know?
---
And then yesterday (Friday), there was this weirdo at the fitness center I work out at. I've seen him a few times; he has a speech impediment and may have mental difficulties. I hadn't talked to him until earlier this week, where he told me I was his "frennn." OK, I guess. He seems fine, I just don't know what more he would want from me, if he does.
So it was just the two of us yesterday. I was there when I ate at Blaze Pizza at the U. for lunch, so I had a cup of Coke with me. (I know it's not healthy to replenish your fluids from exercising by drinking a soft drink, but I figure that I'm actively using the sugar and calories I'm drinking anyway.)
I got done with my 40 minutes on the elliptical. I get off the bike, take several deep sips of Coke, then grab my banana and leave the fitness room in order to eat the banana and cool off. I tried going to the other rink, where the refrigeration of the rink radiates the coolness throughout the entire area, but that area was closed.
So I eat the banana, grab a sip of water and come back to the exercise room. And my cup of Coke from Blaze was missing. There was some left, and I was thirsty, therefore I wanted to know where it went to. Just out of curiosity, I looked in the trash can, and there it was, my cup, not empty yet, sitting on the bottom.
I was gone five minutes and the only place I went to was the lobby just outside the fitness room. So this "frennn" is the only person that was there while I was gone. He was exercising on a bike, so I tried to get his attention. First he didn't hear me, or he didn't comprehend me. Finally I stepped inbetween him and the TV he was watching to ask where my drink went. And he said some gibberish I didn't understand. Finally, what I got out of him was that he was there the whole time, he thought I left for the day, and all he had was gum. I don't think he was saying he did not throw away my Coke, but I'm not sure if he quite comprehended what he clearly did. I mean, what kind of guy takes it upon himself to clean up? And who throws away a cup of Coke that's not his? Seriously, he's there to work out, not be a custodian.
There are huge windows so I could have seen what he was doing inside the fitness room from the lobby. I should have looked in there, in retrospect, but seriously, why the hell do I have to monitor whether some dumbass throws my cup away?
I couldn't just reach down there and grab it; that's gross. There were some gulps in it, but that's fine, it's gone. I left shortly after the attendant went up and said that the exercise room was closing at 5. This guy may not have understood what was going on.
On my way out he hoped I would see him tomorrow, which is today, which is Saturday. Honestly, I planned on working out in the afternoon, or, well, now, as I am typing this from the library. But I am so weirded out and pissed off that I am not working out until this evening, after dinner. I'm just going to start avoiding this guy. Hope to Buddha he's not there tonight.
---
Oh, and back on Sunday I ate at the Wendy's close to the library where I'm blog posting now, and he was just talking to himself, to no one in particular. My God, I was afraid he was going to just start punching someone, like me.
Where do all these fucking people come from?
Friday, July 8, 2016
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -1). You know, for The Worst Team In Baseball, they actually had a really good week -- 5-2, taking series wins against both Texas and Oakland (both at home) before winning in Dallas (oh, dammit, that's where the ambush of those police officers happened ... my fucking God, this shit has to STOP!!!) last (Thursday) night, 10-1.
While the bats came alive this screening week (they racked up 17 runs against the Rangers Saturday and 11 against the A's Tuesday), what I think was the hallmark of the club's good fortune this week was stable, confidence-boosting pitching. Tyler Duffey struck out nine Rangers last (Thursday) night over six innings a day after Ervin Santana struck out eight batters and pitched a complete-game two-hit shutout -- the first complete-game shutout for the Twins since Andrew Albers (who?!) did it in August of 2013 -- to stifle the Athletics. When things you depend on but have no control over finally take care of themselves, the stress gets lifted off of your shoulders, and that is what has happened this past week.
By the way, congratulations go out to Eduardo Nuñez for being selected to the All-Star Game and acting as the squad's sole (at least for now; Brian Dozier might be tapped to replace someone after what I think will be a wave of bow-outs due to "nagging injury") representative. I've said it before and I'll say it again: So what if every team has to have someone in the ASG? If players get swapped out of the lineup after just one fucking at-bat and half a dozen new people get into the game every half-inning, I don't think there's a whole lot of integrity that's being upheld in the game, even if home-field advantage in the World Series is at stake. So why not let every team have someone in there?
That All-Star Game is on Tuesday, after the Twins finish their road series against Texas this weekend.
While the bats came alive this screening week (they racked up 17 runs against the Rangers Saturday and 11 against the A's Tuesday), what I think was the hallmark of the club's good fortune this week was stable, confidence-boosting pitching. Tyler Duffey struck out nine Rangers last (Thursday) night over six innings a day after Ervin Santana struck out eight batters and pitched a complete-game two-hit shutout -- the first complete-game shutout for the Twins since Andrew Albers (who?!) did it in August of 2013 -- to stifle the Athletics. When things you depend on but have no control over finally take care of themselves, the stress gets lifted off of your shoulders, and that is what has happened this past week.
By the way, congratulations go out to Eduardo Nuñez for being selected to the All-Star Game and acting as the squad's sole (at least for now; Brian Dozier might be tapped to replace someone after what I think will be a wave of bow-outs due to "nagging injury") representative. I've said it before and I'll say it again: So what if every team has to have someone in the ASG? If players get swapped out of the lineup after just one fucking at-bat and half a dozen new people get into the game every half-inning, I don't think there's a whole lot of integrity that's being upheld in the game, even if home-field advantage in the World Series is at stake. So why not let every team have someone in there?
That All-Star Game is on Tuesday, after the Twins finish their road series against Texas this weekend.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
#FalconHeightsShooting
I am starting to get the feeling that my initial fear before going to bed, that this city was about to be set on fire, isn't going to happen. I think, I'm afraid, that a certain weariness, if not outright inattention, is confronting this shooting.
I don't know about you, but I thought that there was video of the aftermath of the shooting was THE tipping point in waking all of us who have up till now been turning a blind eye to these officer-involved shootings. I mean, how can you not sympathize with two people seeing their loved one get shot and slowly dying right next to them? Regardless of the circumstances of the shooting -- the video doesn't start until after Philando Castile got shot because he may have moved his hands or was only reaching for his identification or conceal/carry license -- how can your heart not go out to them?
But really, the reason I think, or at least thought, "this time is different?" The girl. There was a four-year-old daughter that probably was in the backseat of the car just as her father got shot. If you've seen the video (and I think I'll just link to it instead of embed it in this blog post), you'll know what I'm talking about. The phone where the girlfriend was narrating the scene was thrown to the side after she was ordered to get out of the car to get handcuffed. You see the shot from the phone go from a shot of an outdoor street light (where the phone being thrown finally rested) to darkness (presumably when an officer flipped it upside-down). The next shot after that? A beautiful little girl looking back at the screen. My God, if she saw her father get shot. ... And if we are not at the very least outraged that this girl saw her father get shot. ...
I ... I don't know. I'm sure I've driven through the area of where Castile got shot. My plans today may have taken me through that area, in fact. Probably will have to avoid it now. I still feel a palpable sense of unease just having coffee here. But I thought other people would feel the same, and I'm not sure that other people are just going about their day. I was afraid that things wouldn't be the same this morning, but I am also afraid that things would be the same this morning, too.
I don't know about you, but I thought that there was video of the aftermath of the shooting was THE tipping point in waking all of us who have up till now been turning a blind eye to these officer-involved shootings. I mean, how can you not sympathize with two people seeing their loved one get shot and slowly dying right next to them? Regardless of the circumstances of the shooting -- the video doesn't start until after Philando Castile got shot because he may have moved his hands or was only reaching for his identification or conceal/carry license -- how can your heart not go out to them?
But really, the reason I think, or at least thought, "this time is different?" The girl. There was a four-year-old daughter that probably was in the backseat of the car just as her father got shot. If you've seen the video (and I think I'll just link to it instead of embed it in this blog post), you'll know what I'm talking about. The phone where the girlfriend was narrating the scene was thrown to the side after she was ordered to get out of the car to get handcuffed. You see the shot from the phone go from a shot of an outdoor street light (where the phone being thrown finally rested) to darkness (presumably when an officer flipped it upside-down). The next shot after that? A beautiful little girl looking back at the screen. My God, if she saw her father get shot. ... And if we are not at the very least outraged that this girl saw her father get shot. ...
I ... I don't know. I'm sure I've driven through the area of where Castile got shot. My plans today may have taken me through that area, in fact. Probably will have to avoid it now. I still feel a palpable sense of unease just having coffee here. But I thought other people would feel the same, and I'm not sure that other people are just going about their day. I was afraid that things wouldn't be the same this morning, but I am also afraid that things would be the same this morning, too.
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
Still Waiting
As I was advised to do, last week I had e-mailed the Human Resources person at the second test scoring place I was working at about my issue with this last scoring project turning into a white-collar version of McDonald's. I first e-mailed him giving him a head's-up on what I wanted to say, and even though he appeared to have already taken off for the Independence Weekend holiday, he immediately replied, "OK, what's up?"
So I told him. Well, I wrote it Friday morning, then I sent it Friday around 11 p.m. because I didn't want a reply as quick as his first e-mail just before the holiday. If it was bad news, better to wait till after the 4th of July. Well, it's the 6th, and I'm still waiting. I wonder if he is still on vacation, or if he didn't see my e-mail, or if he didn't care. What I'm thinking/hoping is that I gave him a lot to chew on and he's carefully crafting a reply. Hopefully that's the case, and hopefully he is going to say something that I will like.
Have to make this one short. Have to go to the U. to participate in a study, and I will be parking on the other bank and walking to it. Hope 50 minutes is enough time.
So I told him. Well, I wrote it Friday morning, then I sent it Friday around 11 p.m. because I didn't want a reply as quick as his first e-mail just before the holiday. If it was bad news, better to wait till after the 4th of July. Well, it's the 6th, and I'm still waiting. I wonder if he is still on vacation, or if he didn't see my e-mail, or if he didn't care. What I'm thinking/hoping is that I gave him a lot to chew on and he's carefully crafting a reply. Hopefully that's the case, and hopefully he is going to say something that I will like.
Have to make this one short. Have to go to the U. to participate in a study, and I will be parking on the other bank and walking to it. Hope 50 minutes is enough time.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
I Regret Two Things Right Now
The first regret involves footwear. I knew rain (in fact severe storms) were in the forecast today. This morning I put on my comfy moccasins instead of my Doc Martens. I don't think I've ever worn my mocs out in the rain before, and I was afraid that they would get wet. I don't know if it's made out of leather or pleather or something, but I'm sure that they wouldn't be the same if they got wet.
In the end, though, I wore those moccasins anyway. I wanted my feet to be comfortable since I was going to this girl named *e***, who was going to blow me. (Quick review: She didn't blow me; we didn't get that far; glad I can still respond to a girl's touch; she said licked my balls, though.) And even though the rain held off for most of the day, after I left *e***'s place it started raining heavily, and it was pouring buckets as I got home. After trying to wait it out for five minutes, I dashed through the rain to the front door, and I still got soaked.
And so did my shoes. It didn't seep onto my socks or anything, but after looking at it a few times while it's drying, I can tell the water sapped those shoes of some of the latent moisture that was embedded in it. It's starting to dry out, and that's because I made the decision to wear them out today.
---
The second regret involves dinner. I had set up this encounter with *e*** yesterday, just as I was watching the 4th of July fireworks. It was only going to be an hour (which I don't like; her half-sister would let me stay at her place for two hours and I would get to take a nap too), and it was going to be in the late afternoon, but she was broke and I wanted to get my rocks off, so I was eager to set something up.
This morning, as I was leaving, Mother asked me when I was coming home. Because we were having steak. Yeah, I forgot about that as soon as I left the house.
While exercising this afternoon, *e*** asked to push it back half an hour because she was running late. No problem; I told Mother I'd be home at 5:30, but I immediately texted her saying it would be 6. She was OK with that.
Again, the sexual activity was A-OK by me, but again, I left her house and got back to my house just as the brunt of the storm hit the area. (It was bad. I don't remember the last time I saw outside so dark and stormy and windy while I was driving through it. But it was kind of cool in a way. Felt totally safe in the car.)
When my waterlogged self burst through the front door my parents had already begun eating the salad. When I saw the steak dishes, I felt like I had screwed over my parents. If *e*** and I had stuck to our original time, I would have gotten back by 5:30, and I think my parents could have squeezed grilling the steaks outside (they usually cook outside) before the storm hit. Hell, if I had just arranged to see her at a different time, I could have been home by 5 and they could have taken their sweet time as they cooked the steaks. But the rain that hit just as I got home burgeoned through our salad and soup, so finally they decided to use a pan and to fry the steaks on the stove inside. The steaks were fine, but I know they would have preferred to do them outside. And even though they think it couldn't be helped because I got home later than I said I would, I know the real reason, and I feel ashamed, I really do.
In the end, though, I wore those moccasins anyway. I wanted my feet to be comfortable since I was going to this girl named *e***, who was going to blow me. (Quick review: She didn't blow me; we didn't get that far; glad I can still respond to a girl's touch; she said licked my balls, though.) And even though the rain held off for most of the day, after I left *e***'s place it started raining heavily, and it was pouring buckets as I got home. After trying to wait it out for five minutes, I dashed through the rain to the front door, and I still got soaked.
And so did my shoes. It didn't seep onto my socks or anything, but after looking at it a few times while it's drying, I can tell the water sapped those shoes of some of the latent moisture that was embedded in it. It's starting to dry out, and that's because I made the decision to wear them out today.
---
The second regret involves dinner. I had set up this encounter with *e*** yesterday, just as I was watching the 4th of July fireworks. It was only going to be an hour (which I don't like; her half-sister would let me stay at her place for two hours and I would get to take a nap too), and it was going to be in the late afternoon, but she was broke and I wanted to get my rocks off, so I was eager to set something up.
This morning, as I was leaving, Mother asked me when I was coming home. Because we were having steak. Yeah, I forgot about that as soon as I left the house.
While exercising this afternoon, *e*** asked to push it back half an hour because she was running late. No problem; I told Mother I'd be home at 5:30, but I immediately texted her saying it would be 6. She was OK with that.
Again, the sexual activity was A-OK by me, but again, I left her house and got back to my house just as the brunt of the storm hit the area. (It was bad. I don't remember the last time I saw outside so dark and stormy and windy while I was driving through it. But it was kind of cool in a way. Felt totally safe in the car.)
When my waterlogged self burst through the front door my parents had already begun eating the salad. When I saw the steak dishes, I felt like I had screwed over my parents. If *e*** and I had stuck to our original time, I would have gotten back by 5:30, and I think my parents could have squeezed grilling the steaks outside (they usually cook outside) before the storm hit. Hell, if I had just arranged to see her at a different time, I could have been home by 5 and they could have taken their sweet time as they cooked the steaks. But the rain that hit just as I got home burgeoned through our salad and soup, so finally they decided to use a pan and to fry the steaks on the stove inside. The steaks were fine, but I know they would have preferred to do them outside. And even though they think it couldn't be helped because I got home later than I said I would, I know the real reason, and I feel ashamed, I really do.
Well, I got up early enough this morning and realized I needed to apply for unemployment for the week. I was really scared that after I go through all the rigmarole and submit my application for the week, the state would go, "One or more issues have come up; benefit payment has been put on hold while your application is reviewed." That is what it says whenever, well, there is an issue, and unfortunately you can't stop the process, because once you submit at that point, there's no going back, and they then send you a letter letting you know the findings of their issue. Not good if you're hiding your unemployment from your parents, and it's a double bummer if you don't get any money at all.
I literally felt my heart beat harder and faster this morning at the point in the app where I looked at all the answers I gave just before I submitted it. I really was scared that I would get screwed out of my dole money, and that my folks would see that I applied. But I needed the money, so I bit the bullet and hit the submit button and ...
... nothing. I am supposed to receive some money this week. Cool! That means that I won't have any problems getting unemployment money while I'm out of work, and (unless I'm missing something) that there will be no need for letters through the mail in order to get that money. Phew!
I literally felt my heart beat harder and faster this morning at the point in the app where I looked at all the answers I gave just before I submitted it. I really was scared that I would get screwed out of my dole money, and that my folks would see that I applied. But I needed the money, so I bit the bullet and hit the submit button and ...
... nothing. I am supposed to receive some money this week. Cool! That means that I won't have any problems getting unemployment money while I'm out of work, and (unless I'm missing something) that there will be no need for letters through the mail in order to get that money. Phew!
Monday, July 4, 2016
Need To Get More Perverted In Order To Get Off
Because I came on her face during one visit and then wasn't able to cum at all until I jerked myself off in the next, I felt obligated to go to *****e*'s party on Friday, even though 1) the cover cost me $20 and 2) it was at a hotel, which always scares me because I think the police can go bust up a party and arrest everyone in there easier at a hotel than at, say, a house. I was just hoping that I would be able to ejaculate.
Well, I did, and by *****e*'s hand, too! It helped, I think, that another stripper, someone whom I haven't ever met, came into our bedroom because that's where the bathroom is. (Convenient, but that's not the half of it; see next paragraph.) Her name is, I think, *e***, and she was talking over this partition at *****e*, where she and I were on a bed, getting ready to get down.
I got kind of freaked out because I didn't think another person was going to interrupt us. However, since it was another girl instead of one of the many guys hanging out in the living room watching the Twins game, I got kind of turned on. I said *****e* that it was OK for *e*** to come over to our side of the room.
After a bit, *e*** did. She's blonde, wears glasses, is a bit on the old side and she's got some fat -- a normal chick, in other words. I wouldn't mind having a go with her, is what I'll say. I met her when I came into the suite, and I had no problem with her seeing my dick. And she did -- well, besides the fact that the entire room was dark. *e*** walked over to our bed while *****e* was literally jerking me off. I was sitting up on the bed (*****e* was kneeling next to me while reaching down to my cock) and I spread my legs open so *e*** could see my pee-pee -- well, besides the fact that the entire room was dark. I think *e*** saw enough; she gave a quick laugh and left.
I think that contributed a lot to me finally cumming. Don't know if I want to rely on that to get off every single time, but to finally get right with *****e*, it'll do.
---
OK, back to the set-up of the room. People had to go through the bedroom in order to use the bathroom. Furthermore, there were two beds in the bedroom. So you may have surmised already that the reason there was this partition was because two couples could use this room at the same time. And that's why *e*** was there; when she came over to our bed, her john was using the bathroom. And so *****e* got me off while, on the other side of this blanket on a clothesline, *e*** got some fat dude off.
Never been in such a situation before. Probably don't ever want to be in that situation again.
Well, I did, and by *****e*'s hand, too! It helped, I think, that another stripper, someone whom I haven't ever met, came into our bedroom because that's where the bathroom is. (Convenient, but that's not the half of it; see next paragraph.) Her name is, I think, *e***, and she was talking over this partition at *****e*, where she and I were on a bed, getting ready to get down.
I got kind of freaked out because I didn't think another person was going to interrupt us. However, since it was another girl instead of one of the many guys hanging out in the living room watching the Twins game, I got kind of turned on. I said *****e* that it was OK for *e*** to come over to our side of the room.
After a bit, *e*** did. She's blonde, wears glasses, is a bit on the old side and she's got some fat -- a normal chick, in other words. I wouldn't mind having a go with her, is what I'll say. I met her when I came into the suite, and I had no problem with her seeing my dick. And she did -- well, besides the fact that the entire room was dark. *e*** walked over to our bed while *****e* was literally jerking me off. I was sitting up on the bed (*****e* was kneeling next to me while reaching down to my cock) and I spread my legs open so *e*** could see my pee-pee -- well, besides the fact that the entire room was dark. I think *e*** saw enough; she gave a quick laugh and left.
I think that contributed a lot to me finally cumming. Don't know if I want to rely on that to get off every single time, but to finally get right with *****e*, it'll do.
---
OK, back to the set-up of the room. People had to go through the bedroom in order to use the bathroom. Furthermore, there were two beds in the bedroom. So you may have surmised already that the reason there was this partition was because two couples could use this room at the same time. And that's why *e*** was there; when she came over to our bed, her john was using the bathroom. And so *****e* got me off while, on the other side of this blanket on a clothesline, *e*** got some fat dude off.
Never been in such a situation before. Probably don't ever want to be in that situation again.
It's Two Weeks Away Already, And I'm Already FREAKING OUT!!!
The alumni club's big event is two weeks -- holy shit, it's actually less than two weeks!!! -- away, and so far I am getting no invitations. I don't know if it's because it's coming much sooner than before, or if people aren't going to my alma mater this year, or they're just bored with it. But maybe it's because I did such a piss-poor job of advertising this.
The thing is, I don't know what else to do. I got a huge break when someone volunteered to host this year's party as soon as last year's party ended. They are even willing to shoulder some of the costs of the party, so that can't be the worst thing in the world. But I put the word out two weeks ago (a month out), and I set up an invitation page, and so far, I have received no invites, no one saying, "Yeah, we're coming!"
And now I'm in an even worse bind. Every day closer to the event I feel a desperate need to do something, anything, just so warm bodies are going to show up. But the more I feel the urge to do something drastic, the more embarrassing I think I'm going to look, so why bother. That puts me into a state of paralysis, where I fret about doing nothing yet can't get myself to do anything.
But something is what I have to do. I posted photos of stuff that people can get for free last year, and I think that went over well, so I'm going to do it again this year. (Unfortunately I was not sent a lot of stuff.) I need to reach out to my Vice-President, as well as the people from the club I'm close with, to ask if they can come. Other than that ... more e-mails?
You know, we've had declining attendance the past couple years. Maybe the reason for that is my piss-poor planning and promotion. Or, it's ... me.
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Oh, And We Had Such A Good Thing Going!
I have to say that My Fucking Father has been behaving himself ever since he came back home. I thought this is a good thing, so this morning, when I had trouble starting the lawnmower, I felt no trepidation in asking him for help once he got home from his walk around the neighborhood with Mother. He was helpful, too; he told me to tip over the lawnmower and, after pulling out all the dark grass that collected in the well of the blade area, it worked just fine. Father tried to turn this into a Teachable Moment, saying that I need to "maintain the lawnmower, and maintain my body" (wanking motion), but he was really trying to be helpful, so I thanked him for fixing it and for his good intentions.
The frontyard was mowed just fine. In the backyard, where he was tending to the vegetables, My Father told me to wash out the blade well after I got down mowing back there. And so, once I got done, I did -- I tipped it on its side and and used a hose to spray down the well.
Suddenly, Father comes towards me. "Don't tip over the lawnmower like that! All the gas and oil is leaking out of the lawnmower!" Never mind that I didn't see any gas or oil leaking out. Never mind, more importantly, that he fucking asked me to tip the lawnmower not too long before then. And never mind, most important of all, that he never specified how I should clean out the lawnmower. He just told me to do it. And then he had a problem with how I did it. (And I just checked one website: There is absolutely no fucking problem with tipping any mower on its side, or even upside down.)
Then, My Fucking Father said something that he has said a lot of times: "Next time, don't do it." Whenever he tells me to do something, and then I do it in a way that he doesn't like, he tells me not to do it ever again. One strike and you're out, that's my fucking old man. It's just irredeemable, what I did. I'll never learn. It's all screwed up, right, Dad? Of course, you fucking told me to do it in the first place. As always, though, you're always vague about how exactly to do it, but you never take the blame for not being specific enough. It's always my fault. It always is.
This "you're dead to me" mentality after someone screws up -- I think both of my parents have that trait, but I probably got it from My Fucking Father. I have to remember that I got it probably because he has done it to me so fucking often.
Well, I figure that it's easier to remove the grass from inside the blade area once it's dried to cake. I think it's a situation where I should in fact not clean it until it gets so stuck up it prevents the throttle cable from being pulled all the way. But that's not my concern anymore. You see, My Fucking Father believes I can't do anything anymore, so he'll clean the mower from now on.
And because of that, I'm probably on his shit list. His radar, too; as I was leaving he was feverishly cleaning the kitchen. I put the hamper of my dirty clothes between my bed and my bedroom door. I figure that if he thinks I can't do anything right, he'll do me a favor and do my laundry for me. Thanks for taking care of me, pop.
I have to admit -- this one hurts.
The frontyard was mowed just fine. In the backyard, where he was tending to the vegetables, My Father told me to wash out the blade well after I got down mowing back there. And so, once I got done, I did -- I tipped it on its side and and used a hose to spray down the well.
Suddenly, Father comes towards me. "Don't tip over the lawnmower like that! All the gas and oil is leaking out of the lawnmower!" Never mind that I didn't see any gas or oil leaking out. Never mind, more importantly, that he fucking asked me to tip the lawnmower not too long before then. And never mind, most important of all, that he never specified how I should clean out the lawnmower. He just told me to do it. And then he had a problem with how I did it. (And I just checked one website: There is absolutely no fucking problem with tipping any mower on its side, or even upside down.)
Then, My Fucking Father said something that he has said a lot of times: "Next time, don't do it." Whenever he tells me to do something, and then I do it in a way that he doesn't like, he tells me not to do it ever again. One strike and you're out, that's my fucking old man. It's just irredeemable, what I did. I'll never learn. It's all screwed up, right, Dad? Of course, you fucking told me to do it in the first place. As always, though, you're always vague about how exactly to do it, but you never take the blame for not being specific enough. It's always my fault. It always is.
This "you're dead to me" mentality after someone screws up -- I think both of my parents have that trait, but I probably got it from My Fucking Father. I have to remember that I got it probably because he has done it to me so fucking often.
Well, I figure that it's easier to remove the grass from inside the blade area once it's dried to cake. I think it's a situation where I should in fact not clean it until it gets so stuck up it prevents the throttle cable from being pulled all the way. But that's not my concern anymore. You see, My Fucking Father believes I can't do anything anymore, so he'll clean the mower from now on.
And because of that, I'm probably on his shit list. His radar, too; as I was leaving he was feverishly cleaning the kitchen. I put the hamper of my dirty clothes between my bed and my bedroom door. I figure that if he thinks I can't do anything right, he'll do me a favor and do my laundry for me. Thanks for taking care of me, pop.
I have to admit -- this one hurts.
Saturday, July 2, 2016
Road Trip, Part II (Montana)
I know this is from two years ago, but I think it's time I try to finish my thoughts on our family roadtrip out west:
- You could tell as soon as we crossed the South Dakota border that Montana's vegetation was so much thicker and lusher. It really was night and day. There were trees and hills and verdant ... everything, everywhere you looked.
- Again, not to ridicule the vegetation and landscape of South Dakota, but as arid and brown as South Dakota was, Montana was not. Neither state is populated, so it's not as if we were driving through civilization. But going through the (really flat) land of South Dakota made me feel like I was in Mad Max. Going through Montana made me feel like I was in the kingdom of Heaven. Seriously, Big Sky country is heavenly.
- I think it took us nine hours to go from Mount Rushmore to our hotel, which we reached after winding through a gorgeous over-the-river-and-through-the-woods-type two-lane road after we hung a left. The road we turned onto is Gallatin Rd., also known as Highway 191, but it might as well be called The Road To Heaven. Goodness gracious great balls of fire -- there were towering pine trees, gurgling streams, onrushing rivers with white water cresting over falls big and small. The only other memorable scenic drives I've taken are the Pacific Coast Highway and, although it is different, I-5 going from Northern to Southern California through the arid and sometimes-desert landscape of interior California. This drive had much more bucolic scenery to take your breath away, although I will admit the vistas overlooking the Pacific Ocean while on PCH also filled my spirit. But my God, if you ever take a road trip to Yellowstone -- if you're even in the area and just want to drive around -- go. It's beautiful.
- It was at this point in the trip where I began to take over all of the driving duties. Father is too old to drive; my sister didn't want to drive; and Mother ... well, she was driving in quick spurts here and there, including I think a couple times from Rapid City to here. But it was me. I am the middle-aged man in this group of four, and I guess that means I take the bulk of the driving. I still think of myself as the boy who got to sit in the back seat and watch the world go by as my older brother did all the work. But now I am doing all the work. Does that mean I'm a grown-up now, Father?
- As much as I loved being shrouded in nature, we came across Bozeman, Mt. on the way to our rustic hotel. It was a neat little place of civilization just in case we need it, but I felt such serenity on the beautiful drive into this part of the country that I felt like we didn't need it. Still, Bozeman is so cute!
- The hotel had the best of both worlds. It was decked out in wood and did an incredible job to look as one with the natural beauty of the forest. However, once we got inside the room, it was fairly modern -- dressers, a couple flatscreen TVs, bathroom looked great, etc. The restaurant even served several varieties of wine and offered Chilean sea bass. We weren't roughing it even though it did its best to look like we did.
- Partly because I ate so much for dinner, and partly because I wasn't ready to go to bed, I went down to the basement of the hotel and just read as many travel advertising brochures as I could, all the while pacing back and forth and do quick stretches -- little things that kept my body active in an effort to lose weight. I was down there for about an hour, and no one bothered me at this late hour.
Friday, July 1, 2016
Why Have I Been Eating So Much Since Yesterday?
Well, I ate at Caribou because it's my custom to do eat a cookie and drink a drink in mornings where I don't work. Plus, there were running a June-long special where I could get a medium coffee for only $1.50.
I ate an apple because Mother packed it in my lunch for me.
I ate Davanni's because there was a coupon that expired that day (June 30) and I hadn't eaten there in a while, and I wanted to bring something to eat with me when watching the game at the Nomad. Didn't think I wouldn't have the stomach to each a foot-long hoagie with breadsticks, though. I had to order all of them because the coupon required a purchase of at least ten bucks.
I ate the sandwich Mother packed for me while watching the soccer match at the Nomad because, hey, she would get mad otherwise.
I ate soup for dinner because it was soup, and it was dinner. I think I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I didn't have such a big late lunch while watching the game.
I ate cereal that evening because even though I wasn't hungry at all, I was thirsty as hell in the deceptively hot weather. Anyone ever get that way? I was. Oh, and I also ate cereal because I felt the pressure of drinking the 2% milk Mother bought.
I had a cookie and coffee at Caffetto because I needed a break in my routine, plus I love just chillin' here at Caffetto. (Didn't realize that the commute getting here would be so easy. A lot of people are taking this day off and getting a head start on Independence Weekend. I might hate going to Caffetto in mornings if traffic is its usual headache.) Did I need the cookie? No, but I usually get it at Caribou, so I got it here. Did the coffee need to be a large? No, but I've been here four hours and counting.
Why will I eat at a fast food restaurant? Well, I need to eat something while I'm watching the soccer game at Nomad, don't I?
Why will I eat the apple and sandwich Mother packed for me? Well, I can't just bring it home and say I didn't want to eat it, can I?
Can't I just eat that apple and sandwich instead of buying fast food while watching the match at Nomad? Yes, of course. That is ... totally the smartest thing I should do. ...
I ate an apple because Mother packed it in my lunch for me.
I ate Davanni's because there was a coupon that expired that day (June 30) and I hadn't eaten there in a while, and I wanted to bring something to eat with me when watching the game at the Nomad. Didn't think I wouldn't have the stomach to each a foot-long hoagie with breadsticks, though. I had to order all of them because the coupon required a purchase of at least ten bucks.
I ate the sandwich Mother packed for me while watching the soccer match at the Nomad because, hey, she would get mad otherwise.
I ate soup for dinner because it was soup, and it was dinner. I think I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I didn't have such a big late lunch while watching the game.
I ate cereal that evening because even though I wasn't hungry at all, I was thirsty as hell in the deceptively hot weather. Anyone ever get that way? I was. Oh, and I also ate cereal because I felt the pressure of drinking the 2% milk Mother bought.
I had a cookie and coffee at Caffetto because I needed a break in my routine, plus I love just chillin' here at Caffetto. (Didn't realize that the commute getting here would be so easy. A lot of people are taking this day off and getting a head start on Independence Weekend. I might hate going to Caffetto in mornings if traffic is its usual headache.) Did I need the cookie? No, but I usually get it at Caribou, so I got it here. Did the coffee need to be a large? No, but I've been here four hours and counting.
Why will I eat at a fast food restaurant? Well, I need to eat something while I'm watching the soccer game at Nomad, don't I?
Why will I eat the apple and sandwich Mother packed for me? Well, I can't just bring it home and say I didn't want to eat it, can I?
Can't I just eat that apple and sandwich instead of buying fast food while watching the match at Nomad? Yes, of course. That is ... totally the smartest thing I should do. ...
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -2). 2-4 for the week. Patrick Reusse of the Star Tribune of Minneapolis confirmed a fact I only thought was true after the Twinks beat the New York Yankees in the Bronx 7-1 on Sunday: That win marked the sixth time this year so far that they won the getaway game in order to avoid a sweep. I think, however, that the number of series where this club has only won one game is far greater, as evidenced by their midweek series in which they won the first of a three-game set against the White Sox in Chicago but dropped the next two (the first of those two where they were down 9-1 in the top of the ninth and somehow scored five runs before losing, the second of which where they came back to the tie the game twice but coughed up the winning run in a 6-5 contest in the bottom of the eighth). It seems like it's, like, the 20th series where they've done that, and that is how they became The Worst Team In Baseball.
Meanwhile, even though I may be late to the party when it comes to this, the youth movement that seemed to have finally crashed ashore for the squad appears to have ebbed back to the depths. Oswaldo Arcia was given up and signed by the Tampa Bay Rays. Miguel Sano is still injured. The organization has finally come to the conclusion there is no use for Byron Buxton to be sent back down, but he's now riding the pine in the hopes he'll get his mind right when he gets to the plate. And Byung Ho Park has fallen so far off the grid that he might be sent down to the minors. How could so many young players playing so well last year all suck this year? This reminds me of the Kansas City Royals about 15 years ago, when they were in the middle of their dark days. Until their back-to-back World Series appearances in 2014 and last year, the only glimmer of hope the franchise had was this one first half where they came out of nowhere to go above .500 through the All-Star Break. I think Mike Sweeney was the star on that team. Anyway, they had a horrible second half, the Royals finished out of the money, and Manager Tony Peña Jr. went from a savior to fired not too long thereafter. That is what the Twins' current plight reminds me of.
On the bright side, however, Brian Dozier, who is not injured (that would be Trevor Plouffe), became the first players since Alex Rodriguez and Chipper Jones a decade ago to have an extra-base hit in 11 straight games. Dozier did that yesterday (Thursday) with a Home Run. So at least the club has that going for him. And Dozier now leads Eduardo Nuñez in the running for Twins Lone All-Star Representative.
They host The Bastard Washington Senators v.2.0. for the weekend starting tonight (Friday night -- I wonder if my old boss from El Paso is going to try and reach out to me), then they'll host The Bastard Philadelphia-By-Way-Of-Kansas City Athletics for three games starting on Independence Day, they they'll head to Dallas to start a four-game series vs. the Rangers starting on Thursday.
Meanwhile, even though I may be late to the party when it comes to this, the youth movement that seemed to have finally crashed ashore for the squad appears to have ebbed back to the depths. Oswaldo Arcia was given up and signed by the Tampa Bay Rays. Miguel Sano is still injured. The organization has finally come to the conclusion there is no use for Byron Buxton to be sent back down, but he's now riding the pine in the hopes he'll get his mind right when he gets to the plate. And Byung Ho Park has fallen so far off the grid that he might be sent down to the minors. How could so many young players playing so well last year all suck this year? This reminds me of the Kansas City Royals about 15 years ago, when they were in the middle of their dark days. Until their back-to-back World Series appearances in 2014 and last year, the only glimmer of hope the franchise had was this one first half where they came out of nowhere to go above .500 through the All-Star Break. I think Mike Sweeney was the star on that team. Anyway, they had a horrible second half, the Royals finished out of the money, and Manager Tony Peña Jr. went from a savior to fired not too long thereafter. That is what the Twins' current plight reminds me of.
On the bright side, however, Brian Dozier, who is not injured (that would be Trevor Plouffe), became the first players since Alex Rodriguez and Chipper Jones a decade ago to have an extra-base hit in 11 straight games. Dozier did that yesterday (Thursday) with a Home Run. So at least the club has that going for him. And Dozier now leads Eduardo Nuñez in the running for Twins Lone All-Star Representative.
They host The Bastard Washington Senators v.2.0. for the weekend starting tonight (Friday night -- I wonder if my old boss from El Paso is going to try and reach out to me), then they'll host The Bastard Philadelphia-By-Way-Of-Kansas City Athletics for three games starting on Independence Day, they they'll head to Dallas to start a four-game series vs. the Rangers starting on Thursday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)