It's great to have my sister and brother-in-law back home. Honest! But with that comes complications. They naturally want to see family and old friends while they're here, and they want to visit some places while at home. But it's hard to do all of that when my parents need to use their minivan for their real estate interests and as I have to go to "work" every day.
Nevertheless, they're only here for so long, and therefore I think I should, and could, be amenable. My sis approached me tonight to try and make out what they could do before we leave on our trip. One of the things they want to do is go to the State Fair, and she thought that they, her best friend and I could go Friday afternoon. That's when I should be "working," and I told her that I took today off to go on an interview, and taking a second day off this week wouldn't look good. However, the weather on Friday is supposed to be beautiful, Saturday apparently won't work, and Sunday, even though we're all free, is supposed be stormy and sticky. So, Friday it is.
"So, hey," my sister continued, "We were thinking of two things. Either all of us (she meant her, my brother-in-law, her best friend and I) could go to the State Fair most of the day ... or, we could take the car and just drop you off at work."
I may have recoiled so much she noticed. See, I feel secure telling her the truth. I have told her some things I haven't told my parents, such as that I did have an interview. Now, that wasn't today, that was two weeks ago, but it's kind of the truth. So I'm taken aback when she says something that reminds me I've lied to her, and so I have to mentally scramble to cover up my lie.
Luckily, she gave me an out. "... or, is that too weird?" she said right after she thought they could take the car. I took her offering, gladly: "Yeah, it's too weird."
I think it would be nice to hang out at the Fair with them, so I think I can break away for, like, half a day. Still, missing 1 1/2 days out of a workweek should raise suspicions -- if not from my parents, then definitely from someone more hep, like my sister.
Either I have to keep up these lies or I have to hope that my family doesn't give a crap that I'm not working at all right now.
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Oh Great, Wasps
This just frightened the shit out of me. I got home yesterday, went to open my bedroom window, and saw this mass up on the window. In case I haven't written about it, one half of the window, or a screen, or something, it broke and fell out of the house over the autumn. That means that, presumably, the window opens to the outside. I guess it already does, but there is no screen, which means large things, such as insects, can come inside. Also, the things insects bring can come inside, too. Lots of things.
Lots of things such as a nest. See, at first I thought it was a small nest that was attached to the top side of my window. But as looked closer, I saw that this wasn't a bird nest, with straws neatly laid on top of each other. No, I saw hexagons lined up together. And then I saw the hornets.
Well, OK, not hornets. I am guessing these are wasps, paper wasps, and they found the underside of my open window a great place to begin forming a nest. I don't know how long it's been there, but I know I saw at least one wasp that I eventually found dead in my room a couple weeks back. I assume it's recent because, my God, there were several wasps on this nest, and I think that if they've been there for some time, I would have seen them in my room. Also, on Monday (or was it Sunday?) night I got three bites on my feet. I think they are mosquito bites because I think I would have seen a wasp if they were wasp bites, but I don't know for sure.
At any rate, I didn't know what the hell to do. So I went to the U. entomology page and other pages on the Internet, and they said that bug spray should kill the nest. So, before coming home, I'm going to Target and get some bug spray, and then, late at night, I will open up the window and murder them.
---
But until then? The window can't be open until I get home. Yet I am absolutely scared that My Fucking Father is going to yell at me for not doing something about the wasp nest. And on top of that I know he's going to fucking meddle over my room. So, what to do?
I thought about just keeping the window closed and hoping he wouldn't fucking walk in my room and open the window. But I assumed he would. So, I grabbed a Post-It note and wrote "DON'T OPEN" and stuck it on the window. And I immediately regretted it. I am scared that My Fucking Father would go into my room, look at my note on the window, then wait for me to come home and yell at me for being lazy and not doing something about a nest that obviously anyone would have seen as soon as the first piece of nest was nailed to the window. Or, even worse, he would look at the note, find the nest, and take it upon himself to kill the nest himself, and he would do it in the middle of the day when the wasps are awake and they'll start stinging the shit out of him. So when I finally get home with the bug spray, My Fucking Father, bites all over his goddamn face, will start screaming at me, "Your room is so dirty, bees like to build nests in your room! Clean your room!!!" And then I'll tell him that I just discovered the nest in the morning (even though I saw it yesterday evening, whatever), and then I'll start yelling back at him, "Well, if you would get my goddamn window fixed the wasps wouldn't get into my window, you fucking lazy asshole!" And maybe the argument will get so bad that the roadtrip is off.
So let's see what happens tonight.
Lots of things such as a nest. See, at first I thought it was a small nest that was attached to the top side of my window. But as looked closer, I saw that this wasn't a bird nest, with straws neatly laid on top of each other. No, I saw hexagons lined up together. And then I saw the hornets.
Well, OK, not hornets. I am guessing these are wasps, paper wasps, and they found the underside of my open window a great place to begin forming a nest. I don't know how long it's been there, but I know I saw at least one wasp that I eventually found dead in my room a couple weeks back. I assume it's recent because, my God, there were several wasps on this nest, and I think that if they've been there for some time, I would have seen them in my room. Also, on Monday (or was it Sunday?) night I got three bites on my feet. I think they are mosquito bites because I think I would have seen a wasp if they were wasp bites, but I don't know for sure.
At any rate, I didn't know what the hell to do. So I went to the U. entomology page and other pages on the Internet, and they said that bug spray should kill the nest. So, before coming home, I'm going to Target and get some bug spray, and then, late at night, I will open up the window and murder them.
---
But until then? The window can't be open until I get home. Yet I am absolutely scared that My Fucking Father is going to yell at me for not doing something about the wasp nest. And on top of that I know he's going to fucking meddle over my room. So, what to do?
I thought about just keeping the window closed and hoping he wouldn't fucking walk in my room and open the window. But I assumed he would. So, I grabbed a Post-It note and wrote "DON'T OPEN" and stuck it on the window. And I immediately regretted it. I am scared that My Fucking Father would go into my room, look at my note on the window, then wait for me to come home and yell at me for being lazy and not doing something about a nest that obviously anyone would have seen as soon as the first piece of nest was nailed to the window. Or, even worse, he would look at the note, find the nest, and take it upon himself to kill the nest himself, and he would do it in the middle of the day when the wasps are awake and they'll start stinging the shit out of him. So when I finally get home with the bug spray, My Fucking Father, bites all over his goddamn face, will start screaming at me, "Your room is so dirty, bees like to build nests in your room! Clean your room!!!" And then I'll tell him that I just discovered the nest in the morning (even though I saw it yesterday evening, whatever), and then I'll start yelling back at him, "Well, if you would get my goddamn window fixed the wasps wouldn't get into my window, you fucking lazy asshole!" And maybe the argument will get so bad that the roadtrip is off.
So let's see what happens tonight.
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
Despite having just coffee at Anelace yesterday, I stuffed my face with sandwiches and chips at the stripper party I went to that afternoon. And then I had a banana while exercising, just before I went home to eat dinner.
My God, I continue to stuff my face. Last night while watching SYTYCD: TNG I couldn't help but jiggle my gut. Bleeping Lord, I can just shake that thing and it looks like flesh-colored Jello.
I hope I curb the calories for at least this day. Had a cookie to go with my coffee just now, but I'm going to work out, and then for "lunch" I'm having a popcorn and pop while continuing watching the Jason Bourne series. Wish me luck.
So something weird happened this morning. My Father bellowed out to me after dinner to help screw in an overhead oven light. While helping him, he told me that Mother fell in the bathroom in the morning, and he even yelled out to me for help.
Had no idea, none. Didn't hear any screaming from downstairs. And when I left, I looked around, didn't see either parental unit, grabbed a banana, went downstairs to the front door, looked downstairs, saw no light and heard no commotion, and I left. Nothing was amiss, and I certainly didn't feel as though someone got hurt.
You know, this reminds me of the time the siding of the house was being replaced. They were working on it from sun up till end of the work day, and I would just be sitting in my room watching TV and shit. (This is when neither I nor my parents gave a shit I was at home during the day, mostly because they were still working and I was taking care of Grandmother.) One morning I heard a siren, and then it stopped. Didn't think much of it until I left the house; at the front yard one of the guys working on the house said that his co-worker fell from a ladder while working on some upper-level siding. The siren was the fire truck EMT taking him to the hospital. I think he was working just outside of the room I was lolling around in.
So what I'm trying to say is shit happens. I didn't hear this contractor fall to the ground from two stories up, and I didn't hear Father ask for me while I was sleeping. He told me that Mother at first wanted to go to the emergency room, but then after a while she said she was fine. I wonder if I should bring it up, but I won't, because they haven't given two shits about what I'm going through, and if I do show concern, I think Mother is going to launch into yelling at me for something else that is a projection of her anger that I didn't help her in her time of need. See, she didn't talk to me at all last night, so that means that she could just launch into some bullshit accusations at me from out of the blue. Could happen during dinner tonight, which is a couple hours before I have to pick up my sister and brother-in-law from the airport. And shit, there's no knowing whether My Fucking Father would hold me not heeding his cries (like a loyal son should) either. Both of those fuckers could really come after me for something I didn't even realize happened.
Had no idea, none. Didn't hear any screaming from downstairs. And when I left, I looked around, didn't see either parental unit, grabbed a banana, went downstairs to the front door, looked downstairs, saw no light and heard no commotion, and I left. Nothing was amiss, and I certainly didn't feel as though someone got hurt.
You know, this reminds me of the time the siding of the house was being replaced. They were working on it from sun up till end of the work day, and I would just be sitting in my room watching TV and shit. (This is when neither I nor my parents gave a shit I was at home during the day, mostly because they were still working and I was taking care of Grandmother.) One morning I heard a siren, and then it stopped. Didn't think much of it until I left the house; at the front yard one of the guys working on the house said that his co-worker fell from a ladder while working on some upper-level siding. The siren was the fire truck EMT taking him to the hospital. I think he was working just outside of the room I was lolling around in.
So what I'm trying to say is shit happens. I didn't hear this contractor fall to the ground from two stories up, and I didn't hear Father ask for me while I was sleeping. He told me that Mother at first wanted to go to the emergency room, but then after a while she said she was fine. I wonder if I should bring it up, but I won't, because they haven't given two shits about what I'm going through, and if I do show concern, I think Mother is going to launch into yelling at me for something else that is a projection of her anger that I didn't help her in her time of need. See, she didn't talk to me at all last night, so that means that she could just launch into some bullshit accusations at me from out of the blue. Could happen during dinner tonight, which is a couple hours before I have to pick up my sister and brother-in-law from the airport. And shit, there's no knowing whether My Fucking Father would hold me not heeding his cries (like a loyal son should) either. Both of those fuckers could really come after me for something I didn't even realize happened.
Monday, August 29, 2016
Expenses Without Receipts
OK, starting from Sunday, August 28th:
- After working the Vikings game I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version) to chill. I immediately locked eyes with Selena, a $5 chick who I nonetheless want to make peace with because I'm not sure if I can just not tip her ever without causing a scene whenever I walk in and she's working. I hope she knows that I'll never tip her what she wants to be tipped, but to make up for it I'll get a dance from her. It might be my first LD with Selena. With coffee and tip: $27.75.
- Saturday the 27th: I was at a crossroads in the afternoon. I went to Brit's to catch some soccer, then I went to the library to finally wear away the backlog in my e-mail (should talk about that soon). I wanted to go home early so I could mow the lawn; I wouldn't have time the next day because I was working the Vikes game. But despite forecasts saying that rain would hold off, I still saw and felt drizzle at times over the afternoon, and the skies above still looked threatening. Besides, I didn't want to come home and immediately go to the frontyard only for my parents (in particular Mother) to tell me, "Why are you mowing? Can't you see it's going to rain?" I was going to go home and try and do it anyway, but after seeing it drizzle again, I didn't think it made sense to mow, especially if I was going to dodge rain off and on over the afternoon. That would mean the lawn wouldn't be mowed for two weeks, but there was nothing else I could do. But what would I do for the rest of the afternoon -- go home? Uh, fuck that. So, even though I really didn't want to go because I left one of the discount tickets I bought at home, I decided to go to the State Fair. I had many reasons to do this, foremost among them that The Buzzed-About New Food at the State Fair, the Carpe Diem (basically ice cream in a cone shaped like a fish -- get it?), was going to end on Tuesday, and I didn't think I would have the time to get there before then. So I bit the bullet, bought a ticket at full price there (guess I'll be going to the Fair four times, a record!), and bought it. I don't know if it's the best ice cream I've ever had, but I'll tell you, the cone, which was baked with miso, really makes the item. Bought pizza and a small root beer with coupons, too. All told: $23.
- To Friday the 26th, where, because I had work at the U., I went to Anelace to start my morning. Bought a chocolate chip cookie, which was notably good. With tip: $6.
- After the MRI machine I inveighed through this crisis, then I went to see *e***. We texted back and forth because our tryst was supposed to happen earlier in the week, and she was being a bit cranky as we tried to reschedule. When I went to her house, she explained why: She is very worried about the health of her son. Very well. It was really nice to actually talk to her about her life. You see, I get my cock sucked and jerked off by a lot of women, but I don't want them to be strangers to me; I really want to know the women who I'm fooling around with. Such is the case here. *e*** is important to me, because what she is doing to me is something very intimate, and this isn't something I really want to do with someone I don't care to know. (I haven't been truly loyal to that idea, and I probably won't be, but this is totally my preference.) My cost for her services rendered: $150.
- Thursday, August 25 was the start of the State Fair, and it's become somewhat of a tradition (helped that I am unemployed around this time often) that I go in the morning of the first day. Armed with the Blue Ribbon Bargain Book, I went to town on eats and drinks: a mocha frappe, CinnaSmiths cinnamon buns, the breakfast burrito from Tejas I have heard is real good (I think it's merely good), the World's Best French Fries, and this sangria beer from Schell's. It is thus important to walk all around the Fair to walk off all those calories. With the tip for the beer, but minus the breaks from all the coupons I used, and the damage was only: $20.
- I had to work off even more of the weight, so I slipped out of the Fair in time to work out at the gym. But I was so damn thirsty from all that walking that I got a Powerade from one of the vending machnes there: $1.50.
- On Wednesday the 24th I started off at Caribou. I spent enough money to get a 10% break on this creme brulee mocha, a drink that will appear on menus presumably after Labor Day. I was told by one of the baristas -- actually the one that kind of didn't get that medium coffees are discounted for the month of August -- that this mocha is great if you have a sweet tooth. I've discovered that I no longer have a sweet tooth; my God, that was too sweet! With tip (no cookie): $5.25.
- In the afternoon I went to Hooters to use my Mug Club Card before it expires in early September. But they have a new menu out with specials that more fit my smaller stomach. I couldn't use my card, though. I think I'll go down there again this week. But I don't know if I'll get a mug-sized beer because, on the one hand, I don't want to spend money on food I'm not hungry to eat, but on the other hand, if I don't use the card I won't know if I can get it renewed. That's a long story; anyway, I was hungry enough to buy a cupcake from Cupcake before they close down for good. With tip: $3.25.
- Tuesday, August 23 -- Caribou in the morn ... medium coffee on special, cookie, tip: 3.25.
- The movie I saw on this discount Tuesday was The Secret Life Of Pets. I thought it would be a little more savvy than it was, but for the first part of the flick I was really bored because the jokes and action was totally geared toward kids. But then Kevin Hart's cat showed up, and the movie actually got some sass to it. Started meh, ending pretty good. Grade: B. I noticed that the price for the ticket, popcorn and pop was, for some reason, 80 cents less than it usually is. I don't know why that is; is it because it's a cartoon, or did the person serving me make a mistake? Total: $9.64.
- I took Father to the airport that evening -- he had to go Las Vegas for a quick bit -- and I ignored his entreaty to go directly home and instead went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) for coffee, tips and a lapper from this chick named Maria, who has invited me to a house party and groped my dick. The total was: $25.75.
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Nervous About Working At The New Metrodome (Scheduled Post)
While it's exciting to be working in U.S. Bank Stadium for the Vikings' exhibition game today against The Soon-To-Be-Again Los Angeles Chargers, I am very nervous. Never mind I might run into that asshole Vikings prick or eventually work with that crew that turned on me. My job will be to run and get stuff. And obviously I don't know how to run and get stuff if I don't know where anything is. So while it would be nice to get myself acclimated to the guts of the new stadium and revel in the fact that I am about to see what most people will never see, I have a job to do and I don't know how in the hell to do it.
Seems kind of unfair. When the Vikes were at TCF Bank Stadium I was hired for both weekend days. That meant that that Saturday I was able to walk all over the stadium and figure out where everything was without too much pressure to get this up to the booth, say, or run out and make some copies. I will have no time to learn U.S. Bank Stadium, and frankly, that unnerves the hell out of me.
Some other local replied to the person hiring us asking if he could come and work (and be paid, presumably) Saturday too. (I know this because he replied all when he shouldn't have.) Traditionally only one runner is asked to work both Saturday and Sunday, and they already found a guy, so I doubt that he was granted that request. But it's smart. I wish I had the stones to ask that too -- and I would have the good sense not to reply all.
Wish me luck that I don't get set up and fired for not knowing where everything is.
Seems kind of unfair. When the Vikes were at TCF Bank Stadium I was hired for both weekend days. That meant that that Saturday I was able to walk all over the stadium and figure out where everything was without too much pressure to get this up to the booth, say, or run out and make some copies. I will have no time to learn U.S. Bank Stadium, and frankly, that unnerves the hell out of me.
Some other local replied to the person hiring us asking if he could come and work (and be paid, presumably) Saturday too. (I know this because he replied all when he shouldn't have.) Traditionally only one runner is asked to work both Saturday and Sunday, and they already found a guy, so I doubt that he was granted that request. But it's smart. I wish I had the stones to ask that too -- and I would have the good sense not to reply all.
Wish me luck that I don't get set up and fired for not knowing where everything is.
Saturday, August 27, 2016
The Drawbacks To Deciding To Do Things On The Fly
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Friday, August 26, 2016
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Gopher soccer (Re-Entry!). And the bloating of the WMNSS begins. ...
I wanted to attend the home opener of the University of Minnesota women's soccer season (and really the American college sports season) Sunday where they were facing a team that you don't see around these parts much, Utah, but, well, the second asshole happened. It would've been sweet to see the U. thrash the Utes 3-0. And since they began its season Friday by beating the Kansas Jayhawks in Lawrence, Kans., 2-1, they've gotten off on the right foot.
As a result they Gophers, who I believe were not in the polls before the season began, now are -- 15th to 17th, depending on which poll you see. It should be yet another good season for the U., who are now senior-laden, led by Seniors Simone Kolander and Josee Stiever, the latter of whom was named B1G Offensive Player Of The Week for scoring two goals and chipping in two assists in those two wins. They will be looking up at Penn St., again, but they also be fighting with the likes of Northwestern and Ohio St. for what looks to be second place.
Guess I could go to tonight's (Friday night's) match against North Dakota, but ... it's North Dakota. That game starts at 7. I would much rather go to Sunday's game against Eastern Michigan, a solidly Divison I school, but I am working the Vikings exhibition game then. That contest begins at 1.
#-Infinity: Twins (Last Week: -1). Maybe it's because it's the lazy days of summer, or we're still in the afterglow of the Summer Olympics, or people are too busy gearing up for back to school, or maybe it's even because this squad has been playing out the string on this lost season for so, so long. But, underneath the noses who have the good sense not to be fans of them while they're sucking this bad, the Twinks have quietly and humiliatingly turned in their shittiest week of an already demoralizing season.
They have lost all six games in this screening week -- all six. Technically they're on a seven-game losing streak after losing last Thursday at Kansas City. That defeat to the Royals commenced a four-game sweep, and as you can tell, if they've lost every single game this week, they got swept in their next series too, and they did, versus the Detroit Tigers. So, yes, they've been swept for the second straight series.
Everything's falling apart now. Byung-Ho Park has a gimpy wrist, so he'll have surgery and be shut down for the rest of the year. Meanwhile, after stinking up the joint in yesterday (Thursday) afternoon's 8-5 loss Detroit (at home, no less), Jose Berrios, purportedly The Great White Hope for the Twinks, was sent back down to AAA ... and they sent Tyler Duffey down to Rochester with him, because he sucks too. If the pitching has been so execrable, they might as well just re-hire Steve Carlton to pitch a game. Shoot, get Randy Johnson too, and even Roger Clemens. Hey, that's an idea! Every single home game for the Twinks in September will be started by a retired Hall Of Fame Pitcher! They can't be any worse than the "prospects" this fucking organization has now, can they? And yes, this sounds like a stunt a minor-league baseball team would try, but right now, the Twinks are a minor-league baseball team.
This club is in Toronto for three and then they'll be in Cleveland for three before they begin a four-game series against the Chicago White Sox Thursday at Target.
I wanted to attend the home opener of the University of Minnesota women's soccer season (and really the American college sports season) Sunday where they were facing a team that you don't see around these parts much, Utah, but, well, the second asshole happened. It would've been sweet to see the U. thrash the Utes 3-0. And since they began its season Friday by beating the Kansas Jayhawks in Lawrence, Kans., 2-1, they've gotten off on the right foot.
As a result they Gophers, who I believe were not in the polls before the season began, now are -- 15th to 17th, depending on which poll you see. It should be yet another good season for the U., who are now senior-laden, led by Seniors Simone Kolander and Josee Stiever, the latter of whom was named B1G Offensive Player Of The Week for scoring two goals and chipping in two assists in those two wins. They will be looking up at Penn St., again, but they also be fighting with the likes of Northwestern and Ohio St. for what looks to be second place.
Guess I could go to tonight's (Friday night's) match against North Dakota, but ... it's North Dakota. That game starts at 7. I would much rather go to Sunday's game against Eastern Michigan, a solidly Divison I school, but I am working the Vikings exhibition game then. That contest begins at 1.
#-Infinity: Twins (Last Week: -1). Maybe it's because it's the lazy days of summer, or we're still in the afterglow of the Summer Olympics, or people are too busy gearing up for back to school, or maybe it's even because this squad has been playing out the string on this lost season for so, so long. But, underneath the noses who have the good sense not to be fans of them while they're sucking this bad, the Twinks have quietly and humiliatingly turned in their shittiest week of an already demoralizing season.
They have lost all six games in this screening week -- all six. Technically they're on a seven-game losing streak after losing last Thursday at Kansas City. That defeat to the Royals commenced a four-game sweep, and as you can tell, if they've lost every single game this week, they got swept in their next series too, and they did, versus the Detroit Tigers. So, yes, they've been swept for the second straight series.
Everything's falling apart now. Byung-Ho Park has a gimpy wrist, so he'll have surgery and be shut down for the rest of the year. Meanwhile, after stinking up the joint in yesterday (Thursday) afternoon's 8-5 loss Detroit (at home, no less), Jose Berrios, purportedly The Great White Hope for the Twinks, was sent back down to AAA ... and they sent Tyler Duffey down to Rochester with him, because he sucks too. If the pitching has been so execrable, they might as well just re-hire Steve Carlton to pitch a game. Shoot, get Randy Johnson too, and even Roger Clemens. Hey, that's an idea! Every single home game for the Twinks in September will be started by a retired Hall Of Fame Pitcher! They can't be any worse than the "prospects" this fucking organization has now, can they? And yes, this sounds like a stunt a minor-league baseball team would try, but right now, the Twinks are a minor-league baseball team.
This club is in Toronto for three and then they'll be in Cleveland for three before they begin a four-game series against the Chicago White Sox Thursday at Target.
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Well, That Interview Went Fucking Nowhere
Shortly after my last blog post yesterday I saw an e-mail from the company that saw my resume on my LinkedIn and brought me in for an interview on Friday.
Well, since they sent me an e-mail, I knew I wasn't going to be hired.
I told my shrink earlier this week that even if I got rejected, I still feel good because I got this interview basically out of the blue. Well, fuck that. This sucks. I want something real good to happen in my life, and getting a full-time job would have been it. (The pay wouldn't be great; I looked up how much this position pays on average; my current hourly wage, prorated to 40 hours per week and 52 weeks per year, exceeds that, but hey, I would also get benefits.) But it is not to be.
I wonder if it was my fault. Was I too flippant? Was me not understanding what the company does a red flag? Did naming a client which actually was no longer a client a bad thing? Ooh-ooh-ooh, maybe it was getting the name of one of the interviewer's bosses wrong? That could have been it. Or, all of it could have been it. Or, maybe none of it was it.
You know, when one looks back on his life, he can see Janus points, forks on the road, decisions which led you to the life you live now. Or, the non-life. I'm not sure where mine was, but I guess there was a time or times where I could have become serious about finding a career. But back then, I was determined to be a sports announcer, and until then, I would keep my prospects free by temping until I get that chance. Well, those play-by-play jobs aren't knocking down my door, and I've been temping for two decades now. I don't have an extensive track record of job to draw from as a result. I therefore am stained by this peripatetic work lifestyle because I will be defined by it from now on. And it that's the case, maybe I'll always be a temp. So why in the fuck do I even bother interviewing for full-time jobs?
I don't know.
---
Just to show I have no hard feelings I tried replying to the company on the e-mail address given me. But it bounced back to me. Hey, I am just trying to be professional, like all these work experts say I should be.
Well, since they sent me an e-mail, I knew I wasn't going to be hired.
I told my shrink earlier this week that even if I got rejected, I still feel good because I got this interview basically out of the blue. Well, fuck that. This sucks. I want something real good to happen in my life, and getting a full-time job would have been it. (The pay wouldn't be great; I looked up how much this position pays on average; my current hourly wage, prorated to 40 hours per week and 52 weeks per year, exceeds that, but hey, I would also get benefits.) But it is not to be.
I wonder if it was my fault. Was I too flippant? Was me not understanding what the company does a red flag? Did naming a client which actually was no longer a client a bad thing? Ooh-ooh-ooh, maybe it was getting the name of one of the interviewer's bosses wrong? That could have been it. Or, all of it could have been it. Or, maybe none of it was it.
You know, when one looks back on his life, he can see Janus points, forks on the road, decisions which led you to the life you live now. Or, the non-life. I'm not sure where mine was, but I guess there was a time or times where I could have become serious about finding a career. But back then, I was determined to be a sports announcer, and until then, I would keep my prospects free by temping until I get that chance. Well, those play-by-play jobs aren't knocking down my door, and I've been temping for two decades now. I don't have an extensive track record of job to draw from as a result. I therefore am stained by this peripatetic work lifestyle because I will be defined by it from now on. And it that's the case, maybe I'll always be a temp. So why in the fuck do I even bother interviewing for full-time jobs?
I don't know.
---
Just to show I have no hard feelings I tried replying to the company on the e-mail address given me. But it bounced back to me. Hey, I am just trying to be professional, like all these work experts say I should be.
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
I Think I Haven't Put Up This Lana Del Rey Clip Yet
I am in a scary point right now where I have very little to blog post about. Writer's block is scary, especially when I have committed to blog posting at least daily.
At least I have remembered that there are several things that I had said and/or promised to blog post about and haven't, although for this particular one I'm not entirely sure if I have written about it before. I'll just do it again anyway because I don't have anything else to talk about.
Do you know who Lana Del Rey is? You may remember her as someone who had an ignominious performance on Saturday Night Live in 2012 (I think), where she apparently had stage fright and turned around to sign while onstage. This being The Internet Age, she was roundly heckled for it in social media.
As many musical acts do, Del Rey (not her real name, by the way) hit the talk show circuit after appearing on SNL. And maybe she learned something or got rid of her jitters, because this rendition of her hit "Video Games" on Letterman, to which she turned her back to the camera while singing on SNL, was sung in the right direction. Also, it was absolutely beautiful:
I am a sucker for acoustic renditions. Strings are even better.
At least I have remembered that there are several things that I had said and/or promised to blog post about and haven't, although for this particular one I'm not entirely sure if I have written about it before. I'll just do it again anyway because I don't have anything else to talk about.
Do you know who Lana Del Rey is? You may remember her as someone who had an ignominious performance on Saturday Night Live in 2012 (I think), where she apparently had stage fright and turned around to sign while onstage. This being The Internet Age, she was roundly heckled for it in social media.
As many musical acts do, Del Rey (not her real name, by the way) hit the talk show circuit after appearing on SNL. And maybe she learned something or got rid of her jitters, because this rendition of her hit "Video Games" on Letterman, to which she turned her back to the camera while singing on SNL, was sung in the right direction. Also, it was absolutely beautiful:
I am a sucker for acoustic renditions. Strings are even better.
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
Expenses Without Receipts
You know what? If I'm going to vow to do EWRs more often so I don't have to write a month's worth of that stuff, I need to start now. Besides, I don't have anything I want to blog post about right now. So, from Monday, August 22:
- I decided it was time to make my annual pilgrimage to Al's Breakfast, the venerable alley-wide diner in Dinkytown. I needed to wake up very early in the morning because 1) there is always a line and I knew I would have to wait and 2) the parking spots close to Al's start getting enforced at 8 in the morning. Nevertheless it was better to go now before the student body comes in the fall. So I get there a bit past 6:30 (they open at 6) and, lo and behold, I didn't have to wait in line because half of the 14 stools were open. Guess I didn't need to wake up that early, although it got sort of busy after I left after an hour. Got two pancakes (both with walnuts, one with blueberries and the other with blackberries) alongside my glass of orange juice. With tip the total was: $11.
- ETA in the 8 o'clock hour in the a.m. of August 26 that while eating these flapjacks I looked down from my stool and saw a dime. An Infusion of: 10 cents.
- I couldn't stay at Al's forever, and I still wanted to work on my computer, so I went to Diamonds up Central and stayed there a few hours while working on the lap. Mocha plus tip: $5.
- Charged everything on Sunday and have receipts for everything on Saturday, so we go back to Friday, August 19, where, because I was going in the MRI tube early in the morning I decided to do coffee at Anelace. This is a good shop, by the way; this day (though it doesn't happen all days) they brought the pour-over coffee out to my table, and not in a cup. They bring you an empty cup and a ... what is it, a carafe with a lid on it? And you get to pour as much as you want out of the carafe into the cup. That leaves the coffee in the carafe (which is more than your usual cup of coffee) hotter for longer. That's absolutely brilliant, and I wonder why more coffeehouses don't do this. I used to think the coffee here is overpriced, but now that they give you more than one cup and they serve to you (at least sometimes), I'm getting value for my coffee. With tip: $4.40.
- I had to go to my temp agency and then an interview in downtown Minneapolis. Because those meetings were 90 minutes apart, I decided to pay for parking downtown and try to take a nap before and during those meetings. Parking downtown remains expensive: $9.
- And since I skipped lunch I got a doughnut at Bogart's. Still so good. With tip, which makes this total a little more expensive than I wish it to be: $4.25.
- That evening was the Minnesota United announcement officially entering Major League Soccer next year at CHS Field in St. Paul. I drove out of downtown, parked at Midway Market (which, by the way, is just north of the Metro Transit bus barn which is the site of the future MNUFC stadium, which will be built as soon as the Legislature passes the tax breaks United ownership demands in order to build it) and took the light rail into downtown St. Paul. I know it's unethical to park at the strip mall and take the LRT to CHS, but no one has stopped me. In fact, I think what I'm doing is kind of clever. I paid cash (on express rates) going there and charged the fare on my way back: $2.25.
- ETA, also in the 8 o'clock hour in the a.m. of August 26 that, although I'm not entirely sure, I think there was a dime that someone left in the dispenser receptacle where the LRT tickets and receipts come out. Change doesn't come out through there, does it? Well, regardless, I grabbed the dime, so it is an Infusion of: 10 cents.
- There at CHS, in what turned into a complete washout (local rap collective Doomtree was supposed to play from 7 till 9:30 but they closed it down after a half-hour because it was pouring rain outside) I got a coupon for half-off the St. Paul Saints' ordinary hot dog. I also decided to try a Bad Weather Windvane, which was good. By the way, I'm glad I brought my umbrella with me, even though I wasn't absolutely sure I could bring it into the ballpark. I still got wet, but not as wet as most of the other supporters who attended the announcement. Oh, double by the way, I hope the rain that ended the celebration early isn't a bad omen for the expansion franchise. With tip for the beer, I spent on food and drink for this occasion: $9.50.
- On Thursday the 18th I spent my morning at Caribou. Medium coffee still on August special, cookie, tip: $3.25.
Monday, August 22, 2016
Poor Bastard Of The Moment: Ryan Lochte
OK, you may think the American Olympic swimming champion -- if I recall correctly, he has more medals than any other Olympian, American or otherwise, except for Michael Phelps -- is nothing but a frat boy dick for his pissing and vandalizing antics, and then saying he got stuck up in the mean streets of Rio. As they always say, it's not the crime, but the cover-up, so he looked even worse when he had to take back what he said in light of damning video evidence. (The guys from The Big Lead are bizarrely continuing a rank defense of Lochte, claiming that there really wasn't any vandalism that happened at the gas station where Lochte eventually had to pay the security guard who drew a gun on him and his three USA Swimming teammates for the damage that he allegedly caused.)
However, losing all four of your endorsements as a result of this? All four?! And on the same day?!?! I'm not saying he shouldn't pay for his actions, especially in the court of public opinion. But while this was an obnoxious display of virile white male privilege, he did not kill somebody, or rape a woman, or run anybody over while drunk, or beat somebody up. Lochte and three other guys pissed against a wall, and Lochte broke some stuff in a gas station bathroom, torn down a poster, allegedly. Even if he did try to cover it up in a way that threw the host of the Summer Olympics under the bus (though it must be said that there were more than several instances of petty crime that happened to Olympians, officials and members of the media), losing all of your endorsements at once is a bit harsh in comparison to the crimes that were committed.
Please recognize that this day is, by far, The Worst Day In Ryan Lochte's Life. And I submit to you that the consequences he is paying may be a bit out of whack.
Poor bastard.
However, losing all four of your endorsements as a result of this? All four?! And on the same day?!?! I'm not saying he shouldn't pay for his actions, especially in the court of public opinion. But while this was an obnoxious display of virile white male privilege, he did not kill somebody, or rape a woman, or run anybody over while drunk, or beat somebody up. Lochte and three other guys pissed against a wall, and Lochte broke some stuff in a gas station bathroom, torn down a poster, allegedly. Even if he did try to cover it up in a way that threw the host of the Summer Olympics under the bus (though it must be said that there were more than several instances of petty crime that happened to Olympians, officials and members of the media), losing all of your endorsements at once is a bit harsh in comparison to the crimes that were committed.
Please recognize that this day is, by far, The Worst Day In Ryan Lochte's Life. And I submit to you that the consequences he is paying may be a bit out of whack.
Poor bastard.
And I Just Drew A Blank
So yesterday I said I was going to dump the papers My Fucking Father ordered me to clean out of my bathroom, but I was going to toss it in storage instead. And that's what I was going to do after dinner last night, after I went to Urban Bean to do some stuff online but couldn't because for some goddamn reason my laptop couldn't connect. (I can connect here to Diamonds for some reason -- what the hell is going on?) Need to get this out of my car before my parents suspect something.
But the weirdest, demoralizing thing happened. I went from Uptown all the way to my storage unit, and when I got to the gate I ... I -- I forgot the code to open the gate. I have been able to remember all these years, but whether it be forgetfulness for not visiting the storage unit in so long or the stress in dealing with My Fucking Father, this code, which I used to be able to punch in on instinct, was totally lost on me. I tried every single number combination that popped in my head, and I knew they were codes for something else, but I tried them anyway, to no avail. After a couple minutes, to my supreme disbelief in myself, I opened up the hatch of my car, covered the bag and boxes with my blanket, and drove home, hoping there isn't a situation where My Fucking Father would discover them.
I spent most of last night tearing through my bedroom trying to find the code. It is written down in two places: The envelope I was given containing the key to my storage unit (the owner of the facility wrote the code on the front of the envelope) and a business card. I had seen both of those things recently, and I knew that once I found one of them, I would slap my head in a "how in the fuck could I forget that code!" kind of way. But it took me about, oh, two hours to find it.
Finally, a little before 2 in the morning, I found it. It was in my bookbag, a place I looked for those codes twice last night. But after going through it with a finer-toothed comb, I saw the envelope, presumably stuck inbetween things or maybe I just overlooked it. And to be quite honest, even though I remember what the code is now, I wasn't even close to the correct code when I was at the gate. I swear I thought this code was just, like, hardwired into my head, but apparently it slipped out of my consciousness inconspicuously and without a trace.
Maybe due to having a long sleep Sunday morning, I didn't get to sleep till around 3 in the morning. When I woke up at 6 this morning, I thought about altering my plans on going to Al's Breakfast (want to do that before the students come back, otherwise I'll never get in) till another day, but I figured that after a full night's sleep, I think I can get away with three hours. That allowed me to get away without any chance either of the parental units could take a quick peek into the trunk of my car. So, before I go home, I assume I'll be able to go to my storage unit and stow those away for safe-keeping. Nevertheless, forgetting that code is quite humiliating to me.
But the weirdest, demoralizing thing happened. I went from Uptown all the way to my storage unit, and when I got to the gate I ... I -- I forgot the code to open the gate. I have been able to remember all these years, but whether it be forgetfulness for not visiting the storage unit in so long or the stress in dealing with My Fucking Father, this code, which I used to be able to punch in on instinct, was totally lost on me. I tried every single number combination that popped in my head, and I knew they were codes for something else, but I tried them anyway, to no avail. After a couple minutes, to my supreme disbelief in myself, I opened up the hatch of my car, covered the bag and boxes with my blanket, and drove home, hoping there isn't a situation where My Fucking Father would discover them.
I spent most of last night tearing through my bedroom trying to find the code. It is written down in two places: The envelope I was given containing the key to my storage unit (the owner of the facility wrote the code on the front of the envelope) and a business card. I had seen both of those things recently, and I knew that once I found one of them, I would slap my head in a "how in the fuck could I forget that code!" kind of way. But it took me about, oh, two hours to find it.
Finally, a little before 2 in the morning, I found it. It was in my bookbag, a place I looked for those codes twice last night. But after going through it with a finer-toothed comb, I saw the envelope, presumably stuck inbetween things or maybe I just overlooked it. And to be quite honest, even though I remember what the code is now, I wasn't even close to the correct code when I was at the gate. I swear I thought this code was just, like, hardwired into my head, but apparently it slipped out of my consciousness inconspicuously and without a trace.
Maybe due to having a long sleep Sunday morning, I didn't get to sleep till around 3 in the morning. When I woke up at 6 this morning, I thought about altering my plans on going to Al's Breakfast (want to do that before the students come back, otherwise I'll never get in) till another day, but I figured that after a full night's sleep, I think I can get away with three hours. That allowed me to get away without any chance either of the parental units could take a quick peek into the trunk of my car. So, before I go home, I assume I'll be able to go to my storage unit and stow those away for safe-keeping. Nevertheless, forgetting that code is quite humiliating to me.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Two Assholes
As soon as I heard furtive shuffling in the bathroom I knew My Fucking Father was on one of his cleaning jags. He's leaving for Vegas Tuesday, and like he always does, he wants to leave things in the house spic and span, even though 1) he's only gone for three days and 2) who cares if things are clean?
As such, I knew I was going to get it from him the second I opened the door. Had no choice; had to mow the lawn before going to the U. soccer game this afternoon. And like clockwork, he went into his bullshit lecturing again:
"Where are you going?"
"Yeah, I'm going to mow the lawn."
"OK, well, as soon as you're done, you need to clean up your room, pick up your papers."
"Sure," I said, pointedly ignoring what he said, putting my headphones on and walking down the stairs.
Well, My Fucking Father wasn't having any of that. He angrily stepped away from scrubbing whatever the hell he wanted to scrub in the bathroom to read me the Riot Act. "You are 40 years old now! I had the contractor measure your windows, and your stuff was in his way!" Oh my God, I don't want to make you look bad in front of some fucking contractor!
You douchecanoe. And what the hell was he offering me salad for lunch for?
So I had no choice but to "clean" up my bedroom. But there was no way I was going to toss all my shit away. I mean, it was my shit. I need to put it in storage. But how was I going to sneak it past My Fucking Father, who was eating salad in the dining room?
I don't know if what I came up with worked. I threw all my stuff into a bag, and I went out to the recycling bin out back, but I put my things next to the door and instead opened the side door. I then went back inside, took my car keys (should have grabbed those right away, in retrospect) and went out through the front door. While My Fucking Father was taking a phone call from my uncle, I hurriedly threw all my stuff in the back of my car. I then turned on my car and then turned it off to create the ruse that I "forgot" something in the recycling bin. That's because I needed an excuse to put the bar back in the side door. So I went back inside, went through the back, went to the door, bolted it back up, reached inside the bin and yanked out a section of the Star Tribune I really did through in the bin. I made a point of flashing My Fucking Father that paper; if he ever asks me why I went to the back a second time, I would tell him that I reached into the bin and grabbed that section of the paper because I wanted to read that story for a long, long time.
Oh, and in case he wanted to rummage through the bin to make sure I actually did throw all my stuff away, I took my parents' bag of recyclables and threw those in the bin as well. He'd have to be fucking crazy to go through all that shit to see if I was telling the truth.
We'll see if it works.
---
Trying to wait My Fucking Father out took a half-hour, and by the time I executed my successful (?) plan I had a half-hour to get to the game. It was going to be close, but I was determined to make it. Unfortunately, the road closures to get to 35W derailed my plans. First I had to pass up getting there from 694 East. Then I thought I could get on 694 West and do a U-turn, but that ramp was closed too. So I had to get on 94 East and drive like a bat out of hell through downtown in order to try and make it.
No, I wasn't going to make it. Got kind of close, though. Technically I was on Cleveland Ave. about five minutes to 1. But there was one final wrinkle. I was at the stoplight at County Rd. B, and from there, the road narrows from two lanes to one. Normally, those on the right lane would seamlessly merge into the lane, and any cars in the left lane would allow those cars to merge -- you know, like civil grown-ups.
I didn't get that grown-up. No, the car who was supposed to fall behind me decide he wanted to be a dick and not let me in. The right disappeared before he would fucking slow down and open up a hole for me. I had to drive through brush before he would let me in. Why in the hell did I have to run into this entitled road rage asshole who thought he didn't have to let me in? Was he trying to be a tough guy? Did he want to enforce the rules of the road? Was it because he didn't think the lane narrowed to one? Was it because I didn't put on my turn signal?
That asshole pulled a right and zoomed down Roselawn. But at this point I'm not sure if he was going to the soccer match as well. It was a huge waste to go all this way and not go to the game, but at this point I had reason to fear for my life. Plus, I wasn't getting to the pitch before the contest started. So, I aborted that. I went to Ruby Tuesday to catch most of the men's basketball Gold Medal Game, and now I'm here at the Rosedale library about to post this. I'm going to get a gas coupon and put all this stuff in storage before heading home.
Not a great day. Too bad because it's sunny but not humid.
As such, I knew I was going to get it from him the second I opened the door. Had no choice; had to mow the lawn before going to the U. soccer game this afternoon. And like clockwork, he went into his bullshit lecturing again:
"Where are you going?"
"Yeah, I'm going to mow the lawn."
"OK, well, as soon as you're done, you need to clean up your room, pick up your papers."
"Sure," I said, pointedly ignoring what he said, putting my headphones on and walking down the stairs.
Well, My Fucking Father wasn't having any of that. He angrily stepped away from scrubbing whatever the hell he wanted to scrub in the bathroom to read me the Riot Act. "You are 40 years old now! I had the contractor measure your windows, and your stuff was in his way!" Oh my God, I don't want to make you look bad in front of some fucking contractor!
You douchecanoe. And what the hell was he offering me salad for lunch for?
So I had no choice but to "clean" up my bedroom. But there was no way I was going to toss all my shit away. I mean, it was my shit. I need to put it in storage. But how was I going to sneak it past My Fucking Father, who was eating salad in the dining room?
I don't know if what I came up with worked. I threw all my stuff into a bag, and I went out to the recycling bin out back, but I put my things next to the door and instead opened the side door. I then went back inside, took my car keys (should have grabbed those right away, in retrospect) and went out through the front door. While My Fucking Father was taking a phone call from my uncle, I hurriedly threw all my stuff in the back of my car. I then turned on my car and then turned it off to create the ruse that I "forgot" something in the recycling bin. That's because I needed an excuse to put the bar back in the side door. So I went back inside, went through the back, went to the door, bolted it back up, reached inside the bin and yanked out a section of the Star Tribune I really did through in the bin. I made a point of flashing My Fucking Father that paper; if he ever asks me why I went to the back a second time, I would tell him that I reached into the bin and grabbed that section of the paper because I wanted to read that story for a long, long time.
Oh, and in case he wanted to rummage through the bin to make sure I actually did throw all my stuff away, I took my parents' bag of recyclables and threw those in the bin as well. He'd have to be fucking crazy to go through all that shit to see if I was telling the truth.
We'll see if it works.
---
Trying to wait My Fucking Father out took a half-hour, and by the time I executed my successful (?) plan I had a half-hour to get to the game. It was going to be close, but I was determined to make it. Unfortunately, the road closures to get to 35W derailed my plans. First I had to pass up getting there from 694 East. Then I thought I could get on 694 West and do a U-turn, but that ramp was closed too. So I had to get on 94 East and drive like a bat out of hell through downtown in order to try and make it.
No, I wasn't going to make it. Got kind of close, though. Technically I was on Cleveland Ave. about five minutes to 1. But there was one final wrinkle. I was at the stoplight at County Rd. B, and from there, the road narrows from two lanes to one. Normally, those on the right lane would seamlessly merge into the lane, and any cars in the left lane would allow those cars to merge -- you know, like civil grown-ups.
I didn't get that grown-up. No, the car who was supposed to fall behind me decide he wanted to be a dick and not let me in. The right disappeared before he would fucking slow down and open up a hole for me. I had to drive through brush before he would let me in. Why in the hell did I have to run into this entitled road rage asshole who thought he didn't have to let me in? Was he trying to be a tough guy? Did he want to enforce the rules of the road? Was it because he didn't think the lane narrowed to one? Was it because I didn't put on my turn signal?
That asshole pulled a right and zoomed down Roselawn. But at this point I'm not sure if he was going to the soccer match as well. It was a huge waste to go all this way and not go to the game, but at this point I had reason to fear for my life. Plus, I wasn't getting to the pitch before the contest started. So, I aborted that. I went to Ruby Tuesday to catch most of the men's basketball Gold Medal Game, and now I'm here at the Rosedale library about to post this. I'm going to get a gas coupon and put all this stuff in storage before heading home.
Not a great day. Too bad because it's sunny but not humid.
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Not The Nutritious Saving Grace I Thought It Was (Scheduled Post)
It always seems to happen to me regardless of age: In the summer I get so thirsty that I am able to drink massive quantities. That usually means that, mostly in the summer, I buy juice more frequently because I sometimes will quaff cup after cup after cup.
This summer, at least, it was Simply, the juice company that, thanks to the World Of Coca-Cola, I learned was owned by Coke. It's absolutely tasty, and when I feel parched, it totally hits the spot. And after being underwhelmed by low-calorie juices, it felt good to allow down my gullet only "real" juices like Simply, whether it's lemonade, limeade, mixed berries or whatnot.
But then I started reading the label. The calories were fine, like 110 calories per. Sure, the low-cals were much less, but like I said, for the taste I might as well just infuse real fruits into water. I want to buy something that I can't really do myself, you know? Anyway, I started reading down the ingredients, and I came across the sugar. I think (because I'm taking this off the type of my head) that there are 28 grams per serving.
That's a lot, although I don't remember whether the list gives that as a percentage of daily recommendation. Nevertheless, that's a lot. And so I feel kind of ashamed that it never really hit me until, oh, this week that consuming that much sugar is bad. It didn't register with me; I just downed cup after cup of Simply until I got satisfied.
It was this week that I really started to feel the weight of my gut. I hate to admit this, but now I am hovering around 175, and I absolutely friggin' hate it. And all this time I've been blaming my parents for this. I swore that as soon as they got home and started cooking dinner that I ate every evening I ballooned, and that was exacerbated when I became unemployed and brought the food Mother prepared for me to "work," eating it and the lunch I wanted to buy for myself. I continue to exercise like a demon, yet I can't seem to get the weight off.
And that's when I started to think that maybe, possibly, it's not them. Maybe it's me. Specifically, maybe it's the big bad sugar that I drink from all the juice I have drank over the summer months that is making me fat. My goodness, this theory was staring me in the face and I didn't see it. Stupid friggin' me.
So now what? I'll have to finish off the rest of the Simply. But I still need my juice. What should I get? I really don't want to go back to the 15-calorie stuff; I still don't think I should buy something that low-cal, and frankly, it didn't taste that good. But I have a feeling that juices that don't have a lot of sugar will either be tasteless or expensive, and possibly both.
Man, I just want something that'll slake my thirst without expanding my waistline.
This summer, at least, it was Simply, the juice company that, thanks to the World Of Coca-Cola, I learned was owned by Coke. It's absolutely tasty, and when I feel parched, it totally hits the spot. And after being underwhelmed by low-calorie juices, it felt good to allow down my gullet only "real" juices like Simply, whether it's lemonade, limeade, mixed berries or whatnot.
But then I started reading the label. The calories were fine, like 110 calories per. Sure, the low-cals were much less, but like I said, for the taste I might as well just infuse real fruits into water. I want to buy something that I can't really do myself, you know? Anyway, I started reading down the ingredients, and I came across the sugar. I think (because I'm taking this off the type of my head) that there are 28 grams per serving.
That's a lot, although I don't remember whether the list gives that as a percentage of daily recommendation. Nevertheless, that's a lot. And so I feel kind of ashamed that it never really hit me until, oh, this week that consuming that much sugar is bad. It didn't register with me; I just downed cup after cup of Simply until I got satisfied.
It was this week that I really started to feel the weight of my gut. I hate to admit this, but now I am hovering around 175, and I absolutely friggin' hate it. And all this time I've been blaming my parents for this. I swore that as soon as they got home and started cooking dinner that I ate every evening I ballooned, and that was exacerbated when I became unemployed and brought the food Mother prepared for me to "work," eating it and the lunch I wanted to buy for myself. I continue to exercise like a demon, yet I can't seem to get the weight off.
And that's when I started to think that maybe, possibly, it's not them. Maybe it's me. Specifically, maybe it's the big bad sugar that I drink from all the juice I have drank over the summer months that is making me fat. My goodness, this theory was staring me in the face and I didn't see it. Stupid friggin' me.
So now what? I'll have to finish off the rest of the Simply. But I still need my juice. What should I get? I really don't want to go back to the 15-calorie stuff; I still don't think I should buy something that low-cal, and frankly, it didn't taste that good. But I have a feeling that juices that don't have a lot of sugar will either be tasteless or expensive, and possibly both.
Man, I just want something that'll slake my thirst without expanding my waistline.
Friday, August 19, 2016
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
A moment of silence, friends, for the last WMNSS with only one team for the rest of the year ... and, very possibly, for a long, long time.
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -1). They had a 3-3 week, and yet it seemed this week was so depressing for the team. The week is bookended with series against the Kansas City Royals, the defending World Series champions but are probably not going to even reach the playoffs to defend their title because they're hovering around .500 all year. And yet they took two-of-three from the Twinks at Target last weekend, and then they shook down Tyler Duffey for five runs in the fourth inning on their way to an 8-1 crushing last (Thursday) evening. To me, this just shows that this organization is still unable to show any fight against a bully that was once a shrimp just like them, and that's demoralizing. At least they went to Atlanta and won both games of that strange two-game series. Unfortunately, that makes the Twinks even with The Worst Team In Baseball, because The Bastard Boston-By-Way-Of-Milwaukee Braves came up here late last month and won both games of a strange two-game series.
Maybe there should be more to say, but let's not. After finishing the series in K.C. this weekend, they will host three games vs. Detroit starting on Tuesday.
#-1: Twins (Last Week: -1). They had a 3-3 week, and yet it seemed this week was so depressing for the team. The week is bookended with series against the Kansas City Royals, the defending World Series champions but are probably not going to even reach the playoffs to defend their title because they're hovering around .500 all year. And yet they took two-of-three from the Twinks at Target last weekend, and then they shook down Tyler Duffey for five runs in the fourth inning on their way to an 8-1 crushing last (Thursday) evening. To me, this just shows that this organization is still unable to show any fight against a bully that was once a shrimp just like them, and that's demoralizing. At least they went to Atlanta and won both games of that strange two-game series. Unfortunately, that makes the Twinks even with The Worst Team In Baseball, because The Bastard Boston-By-Way-Of-Milwaukee Braves came up here late last month and won both games of a strange two-game series.
Maybe there should be more to say, but let's not. After finishing the series in K.C. this weekend, they will host three games vs. Detroit starting on Tuesday.
Thursday, August 18, 2016
The Women's Volleyball Team Just Choked In The Olympics
I was going to write about juice that's making me fat, but I'm going to shelve that because I'm just pissed off that the U.S. women's volleyball team, undefeated, got upset by the Serbians just now. They had the lead in the fifth set and they gagged.
I fell in love with volleyball watching them late at night in Summer Olympics long ago. But for all their superiority, they have never won the gold medal. This was their prime chance. But they fucked it up. So now they still have never won the gold medal.
How disappointing.
I fell in love with volleyball watching them late at night in Summer Olympics long ago. But for all their superiority, they have never won the gold medal. This was their prime chance. But they fucked it up. So now they still have never won the gold medal.
How disappointing.
Expenses Without Receipts
Shit, I let this go too long again, man. Starting from Wednesday, August 17:
- On Wednesday the 17th some of the guys at the aborted test scoring project went out to Burger King, for one last hurrah. Like Friday, I also split a coupon with another person, but this time I paid BK and the guy paid me back. And Infusion of: $5.
- Since that was the only EWR for the day, I can finally write down the expense of storing four shiny new quarters and one wheat penny: $1.01.
- Sunday, August 14 -- I'm going to have time to myself this day and Monday, and I need to catch up on these receipts, and Caffetto's wi-fi has fucked up on me twice lately, so on this morning I went the other way, to Urban Bean, a place I could go to if it didn't close so damn early. However, they are open at 6:30 in the morning, so it's open early enough. And so far, the wi-fi seems to work reliably. Small mocha, tip: $5.
- Then I needed something to do because I didn't want to come home and mow the lawn too early. So I thought it was time to revisit Wagner's Drive-In again. I like drive-ins that still have trays with those hooks so they can hand on your rolled-down window. Why can't Sonic do that? Boy, Sunday is the day to sport your vintage cars. Saw a good dozen while eating a hamburger and shake, most of which seemed to drive off while I was there. But I must say that, while the burger was really good, the prices don't take me back to the fifties. Unless you're talking about the 2050's. With tip: $8.75.
- Saturday the 13th ... After waking up extremely early so I could see the opening kickoff the English Premier League at The Local, I went to Caffetto to continue working on my expenses. Except that I couldn't work on my expenses because the goddamn wi-fi wasn't working again. I might have to go to Urban Bean from now on, at least in the daytime. (Oh, it didn't help that I forgot to bring a page from the August FQ sheet. I overlooked it. It's at home, and therefore I couldn't write down the receipts or jot them down from here. That also sucks.) Only spent an hour sucking down a medium iced mocha when I was ready to spend four hours there. With tip: $5.
- I went to a branch of the Hennepin County Library I had never been to. It's old, so there are way fewer outlets to plug laptops that you need these days. I found one in the floor underneath a table, not a desk, and as I am typing this entry right now I have my elbows on my knees and I am crouching over. I need a massage. But hey, lookie here? There's a dime someone dropped into the outlet! It's mine! An Infusion of: 10 cents.
- I could have gone to the Fringe Festival, which finishes up this weekend. But while it wasn't the cheapest show to watch in the past, they changed their pay structure this year. Before, upon your first show of the festival, they require you to buy a button, which cost, I think, three bucks. You still have to pay a ticket to a show, though, usually ten bucks, but that button, if you wear it, means you don't need to pay that $3 fee for the rest of the fest. Now, each day is an all-you-can-see buffet: Pay $16 during the week or $22 on weekends, and you can see as many shows as you want that day. That incentivizes binge-watching, but I had, at best, two shows I really wanted to see, and they didn't have performances on the same day. Moreover, I didn't have an entire day to devote to plays, so I wasn't able to take advantage of this new way to pay. So, I didn't go. Instead I went to this community festival next to yet another new craft brewery, which had music, lined up food trucks all over the parking lots around the area, and benefited Meals On Wheels. I have seen this truck called Turbo Taco when it was parked on Lyndale Ave. I tried their titular item, and dammit, it was good. Expensive, but not compared to other food truck prices. Also had an Able Supergiant, which also was pretty good. Add in the forced donation of two bucks to get an over-21 wristband (they used the word "donation," but why couldn't they say, "The wristband costs you two bucks, and all of it goes to Meals On Wheels" instead? I mean, what's a "forced donation?"), and the total comes out to: $19.
- Friday, August 12: So goddamn demoralized that I got screwed over for work that I didn't give a shit about a nap and went with a couple co-workers to Burger King. Split a coupon that offered two of a few things, and we decided that he'd pay and I would pay him back: $3.
- Moreover I got out of work early. Seven hours? Huh. At least I had time to catch up on my expenses in my Franklin Quest, and I went to Diamonds, a coffeeshop I hadn't been to in a long time, to start my paperwork. Coffee plus tip: $2.75.
- On Thursday the 11th I went downtown to look for my Target gift card at Lisa's Shoe Shine. Thought I lost it there. Lisa said she didn't find anything. Dammit. Oh, well, at least I could buy some kick-ass donuts from Bogart's on the IDS lobby. One brown-butter glaze, one Nutella-filled, and tip comes to: $6.25.
- After work I wanted to go to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) because, well, I wanted to see some titties. Got a lapper with Sammi, who said that she has a boyfriend. Damn. With coffee and tips: $29.75.
- Tuesday the 9th: Went to Caribou for their month-long medium coffee for $1.50. With chocolate chip cookie and tip: $3.25.
- I had plans to see The Secret Life of Pets, which I've heard is great. But I'm a completist, and when there's a sequel in a series whose installments I've seen, I have to watch it. So I had to see Star Trek: Beyond before going back to work for about a month; I know TSLOP will be gone by the time I'm free on a Tuesday afternoon. This is the third sequel in the reboot, and the first one not directed by J.J. Abrams, who is now busy overseeing the Star Wars universe. And I think it shows in this movie. The bad guy had a motivation and backstory that was not explained well in the movie. Had to go to Wikipedia to totally understand it. That really bothers me for some reason. Grade: C+. Ticket, popcorn and pop: $10.44
- I then went to Lisa's Shoe Service downtown to get my Docs shined for the next month. Now, when I look down and I see my black Docs in that matte finish, I feel good. Gosh, I love shiny shoes. With tip: $15.
- Monday, August 8 ... Started my morning at Caffetto. Gave the place another shot after my laptop wasn't able to connect to the house's wi-fi. It works, so I could buy a large iced mocha and stay here to work for a few hours. With tip: $5.60.
- Then, when I worked out at the gym, I bought a Powerade there: $1.50.
- On Sunday the 7th I went to the final round of the 3M Championship. I don't think the weather that day was the hottest of the summer, but I was so hot that not only did I get a beer, I also got a Pepsi. Those two drinks plus tip for the beer: $12.50
- Saturday, August 6 -- after mowing the lawn and helping Father replace the dining table, and before my brother and sister-in-law and niece came over for dinner, I went out to the Pizza Luce Block Party in downtown Minneapolis. (I saw two other set-ups for festivals/parties, but it looked like they both were being set up for Sunday.) I remember the block party being crowded, but that was in the evening. It was a lot less crowded and more chill in the afternoon. And I counted seven hot babes, five of which were showing their barebellies, at the show and walking back to my car. One pizza slice, a can of Coke and tips equals: $8.50.
- Friday the 5th: Started my morning at Caffetto, where I had planned on staying and working on filling out my expenses in my day planner. But my damn computer wasn't able to connect to its wi-fi. I then hastily went to the library afterward because I had shit to do, but the laptop didn't work at the library. I was going to the Megamall that day anyway, but now I was going to see if I could get my computer checked out instead of, say, going to Hooters and see some babes with big tits. I couldn't, so I set up an appointment for the next morning. But then I went to the food court and ate at Disco Fries and tried to see if the computer work, and it did, so I cancelled it online that evening. I went off on a huge tangent, so the medium iced mocha with tip at Caffetto came out to: $5.25.
- Finally got my car washed. I think there will be rain in a few days, but that's been my excuse for not getting it washed many times before. It did have to be washed because of the interior. I have a receipt for the wash, but I don't have a receipt, obviously, for the tip: $3.
- Before going home I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version), but this time I did not get a dance, surprisingly. Tips for three strippers and coffee, and the cup of coffee itself: $9.75.
- That night I finally went to a Mensa shindig; maybe more on that later. After that I went to Glam Doll to try their limited-edition donut, which had a weird chocolate aftertaste. Plus tip: $12.
- Whew, that was long. To Thursday, August 4, where I chilled in the morning at Caribou close to my house. The store's offer of a medium coffee for $1.50 on Tuesdays and Thursdays continued into August, and I took advantage of it. With cookie and tip: $3.25.
- On Wednesday the 3rd I went to Caffetto for a large iced mocha. With tip: $5.40.
- Tuesday, August 2: Saw Ghostbusters. Heard good things about it but I was ready to watch, well, TSLOP, but because I had ... uh, something to do, I don't remember, the showtimes for that movie didn't work out, so I watched Ghostbusters instead. Actually quite disappointed in this one as well; a lot of in-jokes that weren't funny, and the story, such as it is, skittered past points of a plot that wasn't really dense or interesting anyway. In retrospect I wish I hadn't used my free movie coupon on this flick. The popcorn and pop came out to: $4.28.
- Monday, August 1 ... got a monthly pass to exercise: $15.
- Sunday, July 31 was my last day in Atlanta. The only thing I paid out in cash was parking downtown in order to hit The World Of Coca-Cola, which is a great place but would have been better to visit if I were a kid because I can no longer drink all the sample drinks they had at the end of the tour. I also wished I had time to visit the secret formula exhibit, and I would have wanted to sit a lot longer to watch the looping reel of commercials, which I think are think are interesting, especially the non-American ones. I paid too much for parking while in Atlanta, I believe. Cost: $10.
- To Sunday the 30th -- As I have done during my trip, and what I have come to do first thing in the morning while on vacation, I went to the library. This time I had to because I wanted to buy a ticket on Stubhub to that night's Braves game. I should talk about this soon, but this library made people pay a worker money for the printout. There isn't a vending machine? Well, at least it's more reliable than a mere cashbox. Printout cost: 10 cents.
- It looks as though, IIRC, that the only cash I shelled out for the baseball game was for parking at a nearby lot: $10. Let me say this: It was relatively easy for me to get out of the vicinity after the game was over, even after trying to leave as soon as the contest ended. It may be because the Braves are so terrible that there was no crowd to fight at game's end. But it also may be because most of the fans live north of Turner Field when my hotel was south of the ballpark. The Braves say they are escaping Turner (which is only 19 years old and, by the way, even though it seems kind of cookie-cutter, it still seems quite functional) for a new park way north of downtown Atlanta, in Cobb County (completely taxpayer-paid, by the way -- the way Cobb County decided to approve the money to build the ballpark is borderline corrupt) is because more of their fanbase lives in Cobb, the county north of the city of Atlanta and Fulton County. Detractors say the Braves also wanted to get away from the black fans that'll now have a hell of a lot longer to go to starting next season. It's not the greatest area, to be sure, and there's nowhere close to have a drink to wait for the crowd to thin. But I think I got out of town faster than most. Observation over. Price for parking: $10.
- After the game I went to a strip club called Magic City. It's famous because, I have heard, it is The Birthplace Of Twerking. I'll write up a review some time in the next year or so, but let's just say I didn't see a lot of twerking, and Magic City is a type of club I am not used to. But the place was so crowded no one bitched at me for not getting a drink, and there was no way to get a traditional lapdance. I got a stand-up dance, however, from this really cute thing named Shaya. I'm so glad she approached me, and if circumstances were more private, I wouldn't have felt so awkward. Shaya's dance for one song was ten bucks. The cover was twenty. With a tip for the front door: $31.
- Friday, July 30 ... Before leaving Saturday I left a dollar tip on my unmade bed for housekeeping, as I have conventionally done. But when I came back that afternoon, I saw that dollar slipped underneath the alarm clock, as if the attendant thought that dollar slipped out of my wallet by mistake. Well, that's not the case, and I actually can't believe that a housekeeper doesn't know that tips can be left for them by guests. OK, it is just a buck, so no loss. But the person who cleaned up for me after I left Friday morning did take my: $1.
- Went to the library closest to the hotel. There was a person there that struck up a quick conversation with me. She was really nice. She said she was starting up a holistic healing business, and she gave me a list of services. No, not those services -- massages and stuff. And I may have actually spent an evening at her place if she left a phone number or website, some place where I could reserve a spot for service. Oh, well, good luck to her. Printed out a ticket to that night's Braves game: 10 cents.
- That evening, after I went to ... where did I go Friday? ... I had to start my spelunking into Atlanta's famous strip club scene by going to Follies, which, according to TUSCL, is the place to go to for extras. Again, I don't have time to give everything away here, but I didn't think a stripclub would be packed in a Friday afternoon. And like with Magic City, I love the two-way touching, but I just wished this place would be less crowded. Nevertheless I stayed enough to get a pair of $10-dances with five girls: Christina (I think that's her name), Kendra, Kennedy, Melina and Soy. With tips and beer this 90-minute visit came out to a value-laden: $109.
- I wished I would have written this EWR sooner because I'm not exactly sure how much I spent at the Braves game. I know the order in which I shelled out money: I parked, tossed out five bucks on the 50/50 Raffle (didn't win, of course), grabbed a craft beer (craft beer isn't big in Atlanta, I guess), tipped the beer woman, bought a scorecard and paid for a hot dog. I'm guessing the total: $31.50.
- After the game I went to the Clermont Lounge because it was recommended as an experience I will never forget. Well, it was. I'll write about it, as soon as I get therapy for what I saw. Cover, tips, beer: $19.50.
- In a small example of American ingenuity, there was a guy outside the Clermont with a portable smoker. I'm a fan of BBQ, so I got a chicken sandwich. It was good, but I should have ate it earlier rather than took it home with me because it got real cold. Couldn't do that, though, because it started to rain really bad once I got to my car. Should've asked for napkins, too. Anyway, it cost me: $5.
- On Thursday the 28th, the first thing I did in Atlanta was hit the King Memorial. It was free, thank goodness. Wanted to pay respects to a truly remarkable and brave man who believed in human rights and justice. Did not know he and his wife Coretta are entombed on a pedestal on top of a fountain. And I meant no respect when I put my hand inside the water, ma'am. It was hot, you see. For donations: $2.
- Wednesday, July 27: Getting my affairs together for my plane trip that afternoon, I went to Lisa's Shoe Shine downtown to get my shoes shined. This time asked her to use both this balsam I purchased at the Doc Martens store as well as the polish. Because I asked her to use both, both of which are mine, I tipped her much more than her usual price, and I think I'll do that from now on: $15.
- Then I went to Cost Cutters to get my hair shorn. Charged the haircut, so the tip, in cash, is the only EWR here: $3.
- To Tuesday the 26th, where I had a dentist's appointment and didn't have to slink around the Twin Cities because I told my parents I was. I needed a check-up, but also, I need a filling replaced because it fell out. (Have I blogged about this yet?) It was put in last year by a U. student, so I figure that I need another U. student to fix this. But there is no free parking around the U., therefore I decided on a somewhat elaborate plan: I would park in the Midway area, take the light rail onto the East Bank, and use the LRT once I was done. I got kind of lucky when I hit the platform in the morning; when I was going to pay for a ticket, there was a still-valid ticket someone slid on its frame. So I only needed to pay for the ticket coming back: $1.75.
- My appointment was at 10:30, but I had thought of something else. Espresso Expose is one of the many coffeeshops around the campus. It's been there for a long time, and I had walked past it many times, but I had never gotten anything there. Well, the building they and other shops are in are about to be sold in order to build student condominiums, just like many old buildings that once housed legendary U. shops. Gentrification sucks. I know that the land had been sold, and it looks like this place will close early September. So, to ensure I didn't regret not going, I decided that this would be the perfect time to do so. Got a medium mocha. With tip it equals: $5.25.
- The dentist student said that it was best to wait to clean my teeth until he could also get the filling replaced. But they couldn't do the filling then. So I have to wait ... until mid-September. Oh, well. But since my teeth weren't cleaned, I had no trouble immediately having lunch after I took the light rail back to Midway. And where I parked, there is a McDonald's. You know, I haven't tried their McPick 2 promotion yet. And, you know, as long as I was there, I might as well get that. And a pop, which once again surprises me with how expensive it is. Total: $4.40.
- I got McDonald's even though I was going to a party where I knew food would be provided. It was at *****e*'s house, the first time I have ever been to her personal residence, and even though I didn't have a whole lot of money, I thought it was worth it to go at first opportunity. (And it could be last opportunity, too; she only rents the house, and she thinks she'll be kicked out of it soon.) I had trouble cumming to her hand before, but on a bed in her basement, she whacked me to completion for the second time in a row. And she thanked me for "coming" after we got done. Witty scamp. There were two other girls there, ****i** (who has given me a handjob before) and ****o* (who hasn't -- YET). With cover: $160.
- Back to Sunday, July 24, where, after our alumni club event (which went swimmingly) I went to Milkjam to decompress. And I was confronted with a line. I never had to wait in line to get into this place, let alone one that took me an hour to get to the front of it. But then I realized that this day was National Ice Cream Day. So that's why I had to wait so long ... but then, a week or so after, I went back to Milkjam and there was another line, albeit one that I got through in 50 minutes. This place has gotten such positive buzz it's become a spot to eat, even if it doesn't have alcohol. Good for them. Oh, the owner was at the cash register, and when he saw my cup of ice cream, he offered to give me a sample of sea salt and olive oil on a small part of my ice cream. When I heard it it didn't seem appealing, but I gave it a shot. And I couldn't hide my, uh, disinterest in it. But I wanted to be nice, so I said, "Ah, it's ... interesting." To which he replied, "Oh, you hate it." "No, no, no!" I said, trying to put out this fire, and failing. No, it wasn't my cup of tea, but I didn't want to disappoint the owner. Man, whatever. With tip: $5.25.
- After that I walked over to Caffetto. It was too hot for coffee, and I didn't even want iced coffee, so I got a Fitz's Grape Pop to cool off. With tip: $3.
- Saturday the 23rd ... this was the time of the crazy Powerball lottery. Did it reach a record? Don't remember. Bought a ticket, either for myself or Father at my gas station: $2.
- This evening I decided to go to St. Paul and watch my friend, who was in a show that had pretty sizable publicity in the area. It was the second season of Glensheen, a skewed musical of the murders up in that Duluth mansion. There were such huge houses last year that they brought it back this year. Like that my friend has had so much success. Also glad that I got a ticket to what looked like a sold-out show, and under student rush prices: $15.
- Light rail to the show ... used cash getting to the History Theatre, charged my trip coming back: $1.75.
- Friday, July 22: Went to Caribou and used the free medium drink loaded on my new card on a mocha. So I only needed to spend money on a cookie and tip: $2.
- Noticed that a couple times lately I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version) and to a stripper party on the same day. I guess I had my reasons at the time, but as I type this I have no idea why I would double up on the boobies. Such as on this day, which is kind of special, because I saw Sandy for the first time in a long time. In fact, the last time I saw her she was fully clothed. I saw Sandy at Murray's Steakhouse with what looked like her boyfriend. I was at Murray's with Mother because it was Mother's Day. I didn't know Sandy's a MILF! Well, she still might not, because instead of my surprising/freaking her out about seeing her without her noticing me, she brought it up. Glad she didn't get all skittish about our chance meeting, although I did say that I wouldn't have minded her saying hi to me while sitting with Mother. Once I saw her at Murray's, though, I wanted to get a lapper the first time I saw her at the bar, and so I did this date. With tips and coffee: $31.75.
- Later that afternoon I went to ********a's party. ****a was there, and I was able to cum, even though during our VIP it felt like I wasn't going to and even though she didn't suck my dick, gosh darn it. Got dances from the host, Carissa (who will not do dirty) and ****e* (who probably would and, hopefully one day, will do me at a party where ****a isn't there). With cover: $175.
- On Thursday the 21st I was at Caribou again. This is where this happened. With cookie and tip: $2.
- Then I went to the library to print some stuff out: 20 cents.
- Before going home I went to Dairy Queen because it was so hot. A sundae was: $2.14.
- Wednesday the 20th ... I went to Bruegger's Bagels because I needed to go to AAA to pick up an Atlanta/Georgia guidebook and I figured I could just stay there in the morning. I signed up for their frequent bagel-eaters card (or something) and received a coupon where I could get two bucks off a sandwich. So, I opted for the most expensive sandwich on their menu, their smoked salmon (which was really good) and spent a few hours looking at the Internet. Unfortunately, the layout of this restaurant didn't lend itself an atmosphere where I could just Internet and chill for a few hours. This is a place to eat and run. Note for the future. Plus coffee and tip: $8.49.
- To Tuesday, July 19, where I went to Caribou to get a medium coffee for $1.50. With cookie and tip: $3.25.
- The movie this week was Finding Dory. You know, since Pixar got bought up by Disney, they've gone from making extraordinary, original movies to churning out sequels. I'm not saying that the sequel to Finding Nemo was awful, but the past decade or so they've made more sequels than originals because Disney Corp. wants to make money hand over fist. In the meantime, I liked the flick -- there is a lot of convenient coincidence -- but there is a lot of that old sentimentality and emotion from the vintage Pixar era. Ticket, popcorn, pop: $10.44.
- I saw Finding Dory late in the morning; clipped my morning stay at Caribou early in order to watch it because I had an extras shoot at the library in Uptown. It's been almost a year since I was an extra in something. This one was for a recovery meeting. As of press time I haven't gotten money for my hour or so of work, but the two people who were shooting this corporate video did give me money to pay for parking in the library's underground ramp. An Infusion of: $3.
- On Monday, July 18 I went to the new combo Caribou/Einstein Bros. that opened up close to home. Bagel with spread, coffee (?) and tip: $5.25.
- To Saturday the 16th ... my only EWR apparently is printouts I printed out at the library: 20 cents.
- Friday the 15th -- that morning (I think) I went to Caffetto for a banana chocolate muffin and a large hot mocha. With tip: $7.50.
- That evening I went to Glam Doll. With tip: $11.25.
- Thursday the 14th I was busy as hell. This was the day I was going to formally apply for a new passport. I tried to prepare by taking out cash in order to pay for it, but when I went to the office (aside to make an embarrassing admission: I waited for upwards of an hour before my number was called, and when I went up to the clerk, she told me I was waiting in the DMV and that the passport office was next door. Wah-wah-waaaaaaaaaaah). I understand the rules, but it was a pain-in-the-ass to be told that the $165 I needed to pay for this passport had to be broken into two separate line items, and that even though $25 could be in cash for the office, the other $140 went to the U.S. Dept. of State, and it had to be in the form of a money order. So I had to find a Wells Fargo in order to get one: $140.
- And once I got that I went back to the office and shelled out money to them: $25.
- Then I went downtown to get my Doc Martens shined for the first time ever. It was a pain-in-the-ass to find parking. Had to go to the outskirts of the heart of downtown, and I didn't put in enough money in the meter -- only half an hour when I was actually in downtown for about an hour: 75 cents.
- The shoe shine place is officially called Lisa's Shoe Shine. This was when I only had polish and not the balsam, and I tell you, seeing those Docs shine in the sun makes me fall in love with the concept of getting them shined. Lisa also noticed that inside my shoes were a lot of grass clippings that accumulated from mowing the lawn. She does good work; I'll try and patronize her as often as I can. With tip: $12.
- When I was done I went across the lobby to Bogart's Doughnuts to get one. These doughnuts are supremely tasty, my friends. With tip: $3.
- On the way to Lisa's and back I picked up three pennies. An Infusion of: 3 cents.
- Later that afternoon I went to the U. to be part of a research study. I think this is the one where I teamed up with three other people and we had to assemble this advanced Lego car as fast as possible five times. It was very interesting to see the four of us think about how to get better, and then actually get better, and slice our times from, like, over 11 minutes to 3 1/2. We were a machine, man! It truly may be the most interesting experiment I have ever been a part of at the U. I earned this money. An Infusion of: $25.
- Wednesday, July 13 ... Went to a study at the U. Got an Infusion of: $10.
- Then I went to the library to print stuff out: 60 cents.
- On Tuesday the 12th I went to Caribou. Medium coffee on special, cookie. With tip, without the ten cents for getting the trivia question right: $3.25.
- I don't remember the last time I saw two movies in the same day. But since I was going to Atlanta and there were two movies I was afraid would be out of the theater by the time I got back, I decided to take in both The Shallows and Central Intelligence. I liked the former more than the latter. Blake Lively keeps her career alive with this performance, and as a surfer alone trying to battle a shark, she has to hold the movie. But how she got away is ... far-fetched. Central Intelligence was a run-of-the-mill buddy movie when I thought it was better. But I'm shocked Amy Ryan took a role in this movie. She may be the best thing about it. Tickets for both, popcorn and, because I was thirsty, a medium drink totals: $16.07.
- And I still felt hungry enough to get ice cream at DQ: $2.99.
- To Monday the 11th, where I began my week visiting ***a* for a blowjob. If I haven't said this before, I'll say it again: Thank Buddha that she allows me to cum into her mouth: $120.
- That afternoon I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition) because I wanted to. Coke, tips and a lap dance from cute country girl Jayden equals: $29.75.
- On Sunday the 10th I finally went to the Pancheros near my house that recently opened up. Dare I say that it might be better than Chipotle because Pancheros doesn't stuff their burritos so ridiculously. Nothing fell out of my Pancheros burrito -- that's a damn miracle! Also good: I didn't see a tip jar anywhere. So I just paid for the burrito and a drink: $9.11.
- That afternoon was the title game of EURO 2016, so I had to see the game with other soccer diehards at the Nomad. Parking, Budweiser, wings at the food truck and tips: $15.
- Saturday, July 9 I went to Lu's Sandwiches, a place my parents probably would have done business with. I went there because they gave out coupons through Facebook and, well, I've heard they were good and this was as good a time to try them out. The layout is like Chipotle -- first person prepares the bread (or bowl in my case), the next one gives you your meat/protein, the next one gives you the fixins, and then you give your money to the last person. This transparent assembly-line food preparation seems to be Standard Operating Procedure after Chipotle blew up, but I think one of those sandwiches could easily be constructed by just one person. It's more theater than anything. But, like I said, I got a bowl, mostly because I have to be biased when it comes to Asian food; I can only patronize my parents' food and one other place in St. Paul, and I think they'd kill me if I got a sandwich, even though I think a bowl is OK. Besides, and also like I said, the bowl was free per Facebook. Got a Coke to wash it down. With tip: $4.04.
- I went to Lisa's in downtown Minneapolis because on a story of this place I saw online, she was open on Saturdays. She is not. An update would be nice. (For the record, Lisa's is open weekdays from 7 to 3.) But so long as I was in the area, I went to Bogart's in the IDS Center main lobby (which is open on Saturdays) and got me a doughnut. With tip: $3.25.
- Then I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version). Tips, Sprite and a lapper with the underrated Sammi: $31.75.
- That evening I got more donuts at Glam Doll. With tip: $11.25.
- And there I found a penny. An Infusion of: 1 cent.
- On Friday, July 8 I think I found myself on campus because I was trolling for experiments I could be a part of in order to make a quick buck. That gave me an excuse to go to Blaze Pizza, where I got a free pizza when they started business a few months ago. The pie was really good, so I made it a point to give them some business. Once again, the pizza was good, and it didn't feel as filling as a pizza that size would be, you know? Got a Coke, too. With tip and it came out to: $11.51.
- Thursday the 7th I went to Caribou. Medium coffee on special and tip: $2.
- Wednesday, July 6: Had an experiment at the U., so for coffee I went to Anelace at Central, which has become the place I go to when I have "work" on campus. First time I bought a mocha here, and while it is good, I wouldn't pay what I paid for it, at least not regularly. With tip: $6.
- At the U. for a research study ... is this the one where I was teamed up with three others in order to assemble a Lego car as fast as possible? Man, I forget if this was it. Anyway, it's still a kick-ass experiment. An Infusion of: $18.
- And then I went to the Nomad, presumably for a EURO game. To become a part of the atmosphere of The Summer Of Soccer (the Copa America Centenario was going on around the same time as the European Championship), I bought a Nomad EURO t-shirt. They were on sale for $20, but because it was getting to the tail end of the tourney, they cut the price of it to $15. Plus, when you buy a shirt, you get a beer on the house. This was an extremely lucky day for me. At halftime I answered a question an intern from Minnesota United asked and I got a t-shirt and pins from him. And then the owner of the Nomad tossed up a bar-made scarf commemorating the Copa and the EURO onto its ceiling fan, and I grabbed it when it came down. So I got two t-shirts, a scarf and some pins, all because I went to a bar to watch a soccer match! Tip for the beer and it all came out to: $17.
- Tuesday, July 5: Caribou. I think I didn't know about the medium coffee special because I got a small mocha. Didn't get any food either. Maybe because since my barista left I didn't feel the need to keep up with the ritual. Well, I've gone back to buying cookies, though, so I don't know what I'm talking about. So here, the small mocha only and tip totals: $4.31.
- It made sense to watch Independence Day 2 around Independence Day. And this sequel is very, very disappointing. Skittering plot development, people getting killed off with no motivation -- this movie was shit. Will Smith was smart to skip the payday on this one. With tip, popcorn and pop: $10.44.
- In the afternoon, I went to ***s* to get some good lovin'. Didn't know that her three kids live with her. One of them, her daughter, is a stripper -- and I've gotten dances from her before ... and she's touched my pee-pee once, too. So I had no qualms at all, when I entered her house, to whip it out with ****e's daughter playing with her smartphone in the living room. It's kind of wrong to be perving out in front of a mother-daughter combination, but if two generations of a family are strippers, how inappropriate could I really be? This time, though, ****e didn't suck my dick. Don't know why, but it's disappointing. She did say I had nice balls, though. Not the first time I've heard that. Might talk more about that some day. The money I paid her she actually asked for before she rendered her services because her daughter needed it to ... buy something at the mall, or something: $150.
- God, this is taking too long. ... On Saturday, July 2, I went to the Nomad for, I think, a EURO match. Beer, got a baguette at the food truck outside, tips for both: $14.
- I think I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition) that night. Tips, Sprite and a lapdance from Cicily: $29.
- Friday the 1st ... went to Caffetto for a large coffee and cookie. With tip, the total was, I think: $6.
- Pounded the Nomad once again. Got unlucky with parking; usually I can find a spot open weekday afternoons, but not this time, so I parked at the lot where the bar gives me a discount. Once there I got frites to go along with my beer. Add tip and it came to: $14.
- After dinner at home I went out to *****e*'s party at a hotel. Total sausage party. More men than women, and in a cramped space, that's far from ideal. The girl taking cover charges was totally disinterested in customer service, but she was hot as hell. Details about this encounter can be found here. Since there were so many guys, didn't feel much of a need to stick around. With cover and the damage was only: $120.
- Celebrated me getting off by going to Glam Doll. With tip: $10.
- Back to Thursday, June 30. Started off that morning at Caribou. Coffee, chocolate chip cookie, tip: $3.50.
- There was another soccer contest (EURO?) at the Nomad, but since they allow food to be brought in, I wanted to try something special. So I went to the Davanni's closest to the Cedar-Riverside area and bought me a footlong hoagie. Hadn't eaten at Davanni's in quite a while, and I missed them so, it was so good. (Breadsticks too.) However, buying twelve inches of sandwich was a very bad idea: $10.03.
- Chased the hoagie and breadsticks down with beer while watching the match. With tip: $6.
- When I came home My Father paid me back for all those Powerball tickets I bought him. I don't remember how far back he went, but I think he went overboard with this Infusion of: $200.
- Starting the morning of Wednesday, June 29 I went to a combo Caribou/Einstein. Frankly, I don't know in which city. It could have been one that was giving free bagels because it was its grand opening. But it might not be, because in my rough draft for this EWR I presumably wrote shortly after I ate there, I got a large mocha and paid tip. That's all. OK: $5.82.
- Went on the light rail for some damn reason. I checked my day planner and there was nothing that compelled me to use it, and I don't remember. Compounding the mystery is that I apparently only used cash one way on the light rail, not the other: $1.75.
- Had Dairy Queen, probably at Rosedale. Maybe. I think so because I jotted down that I threw in a tip, and the only DQ I know that offers a tip jar is the one in Rosedale. Total: $4.
- Oh, and might have been the Dairy Queen at Rosedale because I went to the U. to participate in a research study. An Infusion of: $8.
- On Tuesday, June 28 I finally went to this restaurant called Streetz, which is relatively close to the test scoring place. Last year I vowed to see what this place is all about, and the last full day at this project was it. And ... not impressed. The food (I think I got a cheesesteak) was OK. Worse yet, I was only one of, like, two or three groups that ate there. And this is 5 or 6 o'clock, in front of a very busy street. This location should get more traffic; that it was totally dead for dinner hour doesn't speak well for them. Oh, and they need to update the prices on the menu on their website; I was going to buy a beer until I saw that the prices were a dollar more for all items. I charged the food, but Streetz had a tip jar. Another sign that Streetz is not long: $1.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Got Fucked Harder And Deeper At Work Yesterday
I got even worse news about work just as our day ended yesterday. This project, which went from Labor Day to Thursday, just got even shorter. Our boss said that we are going to be done today. Too fast, we are, he says.
And once I again I feel so stupid in thinking that at least we would be working until Thursday. My God, it's as if these guys are fucking trolling us. And we can't do anything about it because we have nowhere else to go. I hear that these guys are having trouble finding workers. It's probably because they continually fuck us by lying to us about how long we're going to have work.
If there isn't enough incentive to go back to school, well, this is it. I don't know if I can take this shit anymore. But, thankfully maybe, I have an interview Friday. So maybe I can get off this merry-go-around after all.
And once I again I feel so stupid in thinking that at least we would be working until Thursday. My God, it's as if these guys are fucking trolling us. And we can't do anything about it because we have nowhere else to go. I hear that these guys are having trouble finding workers. It's probably because they continually fuck us by lying to us about how long we're going to have work.
If there isn't enough incentive to go back to school, well, this is it. I don't know if I can take this shit anymore. But, thankfully maybe, I have an interview Friday. So maybe I can get off this merry-go-around after all.
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Man, I Don't Even Care
So this job was supposed to last until Labor Day, and then we were told that it was barely going to last two weeks, and then oh, by the way, it ends on Thursday, and also by the way, don't come in on Monday, and remember that we'll probably end early on Thursday. With the rug being pulled out from under us so utterly like that, why in the fuck am I going back to work?
Seriously, I could just go to Caribou tomorrow morning and listen to Charlie Pierce on Stephanie Miller, then go eat lunch at some fast food joint, then go to the library and burn through my e-mails, then go to the parking ramp and sleep, then work out, and then go home, and I would be as productive as I would be as I would at the test scoring place. And hey, since it's only going to be three days of work (and more like 21 hours, if that), why not just stay in unemployment?
Oh, well. I think I'll just masturbate through this Pleasure magazine and then go to sleep.
Seriously, I could just go to Caribou tomorrow morning and listen to Charlie Pierce on Stephanie Miller, then go eat lunch at some fast food joint, then go to the library and burn through my e-mails, then go to the parking ramp and sleep, then work out, and then go home, and I would be as productive as I would be as I would at the test scoring place. And hey, since it's only going to be three days of work (and more like 21 hours, if that), why not just stay in unemployment?
Oh, well. I think I'll just masturbate through this Pleasure magazine and then go to sleep.
Monday, August 15, 2016
Been Caught Masturbating?
So, lately I've been really getting into Vintage Erotica Forum because I stumbled upon some old porn that I slaved over back when Shinders was around. Beyond Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler, the holy triumvirate of porn mags, there were these other magazines, smaller in size, but were as perverted as the worst of those three. Moreover, I noticed that they were European. Most of these fuck pictorials (which usually were boy-girl and involved, like, passengers on a bus or two members of a rock 'n' roll band suddenly doing it -- you know, non-marital sex, the best kind) had these incredibly skanky narrative. It was like the old Penthouse, except that 1) there was also text in other languages such as Spanish, French, German and Dutch; and 2) the English was broken. The pictures weren't all that great, either, but you could always count on stripping of clothes, sucking of dicks, licking of clits, and sex in the raw (sometimes anal!) before a cum shot right across the slut's face. The combination of no-holds-barred fucking and the public, taboo situations where they stage these sex scenes (while practicing ballet, a cop pulling over a speeder on the highway) were indelible images to me.
I rediscovered those mags online on VEF. I stumbled upon some of these pamphlet pornos on a click, and then I was sent back to when I was a directionless young'un who had no problems whiling away an afternoon reading porn. Not much has changed except that now, Shinders is no more and I can see these pages online as generous pervs have gladly scanned these magazines for free. And for the past two or three days I've gladly shed my clothes in my bedroom and wanked to my heart's content over these European low-fi spank mags.
---
In the meantime, Father had the roof of our house replaced. Such jobs are fast these days; I was woken up by a doorbell around 7 Friday morning, and he said that they were down reshingling the roof in six hours. So now he needs my help recovering some more money from the insurance company now that he has an invoice and a certificate of completion. (I don't know how it works, since he already received a check from them, but apparently the company said that he was eligible to get more money after the repairs.)
He seemed to be more worked up about this than I thought he would tonight. When he came upstairs after dinner, I told him that I looked though his papers and didn't see an address to send the invoice and certificate to. Undaunted, he told me to call the claims adjuster tomorrow (which is technically today, Monday). But then, about an hour later, he came back upstairs and, shouting through the door of my bedroom, he wanted me to find an e-mail address or fax number because those would be easier to send the needed documents.
One problem with that. I was totally naked, totally enjoying onanism because I was on VEF and jerking off to the pamphlet porn. I needed to make absolutely sure My Fucking Father didn't just turn the knob of my door and open it and see me whacking off. So, while My Father was talking to me, I quickly jumped up, put on my clothes, and stepped out to see him face-to-face.
He was already done talking at the point, though, and while talking through a front door probably isn't the most sane thing in the world, me jumping up and seeing him at the end of a conversation looks kind of weird, too. Moreover, there are two things that make me think he knows something's going on behind closed doors. One, the clothes I took off and rapidly put back on were right at the door. He may be hard of hearing these days, but there's a chance he could have heard all that rustling from the other side of the door. If anything comes up, I could say that I was indeed putting on my clothes because I was really, really hot and the air conditioning didn't kick in.
It's the second thing that scares me. He's hard of hearing, but I don't think he's hard of seeing, plus, if anything, he's farsighted, not nearsighted. I made it a point to only open the door just enough for me slide through. And the laptop cannot be seen from the front door. However, I didn't put away my jerk-off towel. And if My Fucking Father was so curious as to why I couldn't just immediately open the door right after he began speaking with me, and his farsighted eyes could see past me and to the towel that was on my bed, he could harken back to the time my fucking parents blindsided me and came home without telling me. There, my porn and my jerk-off towel was all splayed out for anyone to see, and he would know I'm in there touching myself again.
That would be embarrassing. But he if did see anything, he didn't say anything, at least not then. Goddamn, I should've just thrown the towel into the closet. But for God's sake, why did he keep talking about the fucking insurance claim three to me this evening?
I rediscovered those mags online on VEF. I stumbled upon some of these pamphlet pornos on a click, and then I was sent back to when I was a directionless young'un who had no problems whiling away an afternoon reading porn. Not much has changed except that now, Shinders is no more and I can see these pages online as generous pervs have gladly scanned these magazines for free. And for the past two or three days I've gladly shed my clothes in my bedroom and wanked to my heart's content over these European low-fi spank mags.
---
In the meantime, Father had the roof of our house replaced. Such jobs are fast these days; I was woken up by a doorbell around 7 Friday morning, and he said that they were down reshingling the roof in six hours. So now he needs my help recovering some more money from the insurance company now that he has an invoice and a certificate of completion. (I don't know how it works, since he already received a check from them, but apparently the company said that he was eligible to get more money after the repairs.)
He seemed to be more worked up about this than I thought he would tonight. When he came upstairs after dinner, I told him that I looked though his papers and didn't see an address to send the invoice and certificate to. Undaunted, he told me to call the claims adjuster tomorrow (which is technically today, Monday). But then, about an hour later, he came back upstairs and, shouting through the door of my bedroom, he wanted me to find an e-mail address or fax number because those would be easier to send the needed documents.
One problem with that. I was totally naked, totally enjoying onanism because I was on VEF and jerking off to the pamphlet porn. I needed to make absolutely sure My Fucking Father didn't just turn the knob of my door and open it and see me whacking off. So, while My Father was talking to me, I quickly jumped up, put on my clothes, and stepped out to see him face-to-face.
He was already done talking at the point, though, and while talking through a front door probably isn't the most sane thing in the world, me jumping up and seeing him at the end of a conversation looks kind of weird, too. Moreover, there are two things that make me think he knows something's going on behind closed doors. One, the clothes I took off and rapidly put back on were right at the door. He may be hard of hearing these days, but there's a chance he could have heard all that rustling from the other side of the door. If anything comes up, I could say that I was indeed putting on my clothes because I was really, really hot and the air conditioning didn't kick in.
It's the second thing that scares me. He's hard of hearing, but I don't think he's hard of seeing, plus, if anything, he's farsighted, not nearsighted. I made it a point to only open the door just enough for me slide through. And the laptop cannot be seen from the front door. However, I didn't put away my jerk-off towel. And if My Fucking Father was so curious as to why I couldn't just immediately open the door right after he began speaking with me, and his farsighted eyes could see past me and to the towel that was on my bed, he could harken back to the time my fucking parents blindsided me and came home without telling me. There, my porn and my jerk-off towel was all splayed out for anyone to see, and he would know I'm in there touching myself again.
That would be embarrassing. But he if did see anything, he didn't say anything, at least not then. Goddamn, I should've just thrown the towel into the closet. But for God's sake, why did he keep talking about the fucking insurance claim three to me this evening?
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