Aggravated

I'm just so fucking aggravated right now.  Nothing in particular is getting to me.  I'm just "tirangry," and I need more sleep and I'm not getting it.  Plus I have to find out this voting question for Mother and I have taxes that need to be done, and then this college club thing hanging over my head ... put together they're pissing me off.  I need sleep and I need to be left alone, and I have neither right now.  I just hope I don't snap on someone at work today.

Maybe I should talk to my therapist about it when he phones me this afternoon.

Bad Day At Work

We were down a person, which is not the worst thing in the world given that it's a Monday and so there isn't a whole lot of work.  But it's the vet, and she knew what she was doing.  Of the two of us working today, I was the more tenured employee, and that should send shudders throughout the entire company.

It was not a good day at work, mostly because we missed deadline.  It is pretty damn hard to miss deadline on a Monday, but we did it.  Yes, a third person would have helped.  But frankly, the most important folders were given to us plenty of time before deadline.  We just ... well, I just kind of lost track of time and decided to do other things besides meeting deadline.  Missed it by five Minutes when I knew that if I had just focused on those important folders and forgot the rest (the ones I took time on before deadline), we would have been fine.  The vet would have set me straight, or even took care of all those important folders without either of us knowing.  But no excuses today; I was the vet, and I should have kept my eye on the ball.

I am also not happy with myself for losing my temper on my co-worker.  She is still relatively new, and as I learned working beside her for the first time, she can be a bit of a flibbertigibbet.  I spaced out around deadline, yet I was still cognizant of deadline when she began talking to herself in the afternoon and asked me one too many questions to my id's liking.  So, when I later asked her to do something and she was concentrating on other things, prompting her (of course) to say, "What's that?" I shout-repeated myself.  Man, it's not her fault I fucked up.  She's just as confused as I am, probably moreso, and people (including the vet) are being patient with me when I ask questions ... which I still do almost two years into this job.

Maybe because it was a Monday and it was just the two of us, we'll be cut some slack.  But the record and truth are there because I had to tell the truth, else my boss would know and know that I lied.

Uh ... must do better, I guess.

Thoughts On A Video Conference

• I'm so pissed off that I tried to get a word in edgewise at the tail end of our conference, but everybody was talking so there wasn't a good time, and then the host signed off and everybody was like, "See ya!" and all I could do to be a good guest was also say, "See ya!"  I feel like such a schmo.
• It was two hours long, like the last meeting, and I am scared that further meetings will also be two hours long.  I have a social meet-up on Sunday nights.  I had to miss that one because of this.  I think the topic at hand is serious enough that I should meet there next week, which is planned, but honestly, I don't know if I'm going to like that I'll have to miss my social meet-up for the time being.
• When you have a lot of people passionate about the same subject with the same goal of solving it, you will still have a lot of opinions on how to go about doing that.  It's inevitable.  But we got really, really bogged down on the edits of a letter that we are about to send out.  The navel-gazing really got to me, and by the looks of the screenshots it started to bore and frustrate the other participants.  That is why I hate meetings.
• And yet ... I feel as though some people feel that they were not heard.  The crux of it is one participant who called because ... well, I don't know we couldn't see her.  Anyway, she was droning on about what she didn't like about the letter.  Much of it made me roll my eyes, but she did stumble on a point I will twist into my own criticism that we should bring up in the letter: The current "zeitgeist" about racial injustice might be an issue we could raise in this letter, and knowing the shocking changes that have come in the wake of the "wokeness" over racial inequality, maybe could use that to our advantage, starting with this letter.  Now, I have no idea how racial inequity has anything to do with college clubs.  But if it gets us closer to our aims, hell yeah, I'd use it.
• But back to trying to say something and then shrinking down to not say anything instead.  How humiliating!

I Will Masturbate To The (Of-Age!) Daughter

So on Facebook I saw a photo of someone competing in a bodybuilding competition or a bikini competition or a competition hybridizing the two.  She looks hot -- firm, beefy, like she could choke me out while masturbating me!  I have decided to jerk off to her.

I am not Facebook friends with her.  I am Facebook friends with her mother.  She is, I believe, a former bodybuilding/bikini competitor.  She might be in her fifties, but she still works out, and mostly does so in skimpy clothing, showing her still-tight belly.  In fact, there are a couple photos of the two of them working out together, both midriffs bared.  The mom could still compete if she wanted to.

In replying to the daughter's photo I told the mom that she must be proud.  And she was.  And that got me fantasizing that I was fucking the both of them at the same time.  (Never mind the husband/father, who is also in many of these photos.)

I know that the daughter is of-age.  Is it weird that I'm going to rub one off to her just because I "know" her through the mother?

No.  Fuck it.  Cancel me.

And I Am Coronavirus-Negative As Of The Early Afternoon Of June 26

I was told by the person who swabbed my nose that the result could come in half a day.  I would be notified through e-mail; if it were negative, I would be told to go to my online chart, and if it were positive, I would get a call.  Got an e-mail at 12:03 this morning, and in my chart it said I tested negative.  Technically that's less than 12 Hours/half a day.  That is fast.

Now, of course, and like I said before, I hope I didn't get the virus while I was waiting at the hospital to get a test for which I tested negative.  Because that would be ironic ... and stupid.

Not Quite What I Planned

Thought going to a clinic to get tested for COVID-19 would be good.  But then the woman ahead of me said she was feeling chills and having coughs, and now I'm thinking that even though I might test negative, I could actually get the virus as I wait to get tested.  Wouldn't that be ironic ... and stupid?

And then for some damn reason I waited in the doctor's room for a half-hour -- after the attendant told me that someone would come in and swab my nose "in a second" -- to get tested.  I think someone forgot about me.

That ruined my plans to go walk at Lakewood.  I only had time to get donuts at Glam Doll.  There was a conference call with the alumni association I needed to take, and by the time I got to Glam Doll I was already late, so I took the call there.  And that was for half an hour and I got a whole ton of bad news there.  Plus, it was hot, hotter than I thought the meteorologists said it would be.

And tomorrow morning I'm helping my parents mow the yard of some property they are trying to renovate.  I could be there for hours if the lawn is large enough.  Man, this is too much ruckus for me.

Oh! I Am Coronavirus-Negative ... As Of May 23

After work way back on May 23 I stopped by the Minneapolis Armory because they were conducting COVID-19 tests for everyone, especially those who are asymptomatic.  I heard on the news that a half-dozen sites around Minnesota were opening up testing for that weekend to anyone.  That was great; the only way to get ahead of this and maybe slay this fucking disease is to test the community.  A negative test is not a wasted test; it shows you where the virus isn't.

There wasn't much of a line.  Got through it, ending with that swab stuck up my nose, in ten or 15 Minutes.  On Memorial Day and the following day I received voicemails to call back.  Did Tuesday; found out I was negative.  I will assume it was not a false negative.

Honestly, ideally, governments should be testing everyone twice a day, morning and night.  Know where the positives are, isolate the shit out of them, force them to tell authorities where they've been, then trace the people who've also been there.  Meanwhile, everybody should physically distance and where a fucking mask.  But no, Republicans have to have their FREEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!

I tell you this because today, after taking a half-day off from work, I'm going to go downtown, get my shoes shined, and then I'm going to march to a clinic downtown to get tested for the coronavirus again.  Those pop-up clinics are not around anymore, but nowadays some clinics are offering tests for people who are asymptomatic but participated in large gatherings related to The Floyd Riots.  I was prepared to tell a little white lie, but apparently going to George Floyd Square qualifies me to get tested.

That's a good thing.  If I can't get tested twice daily, getting tested once a month isn't something to dismiss.  With the half-ass way Donald Trump and Republicans are treating this deadly pandemic, it'll be the best we can do.  Now, I just hope I don't test positive.

More Alumni Club Stuff???

It's important, but tonight will be the third night I've had to deal with alumni club stuff.  That shitshow of a Zoom on Tuesday, writing this long final e-mail to membership last night, and in a couple hours there is this conference call by some of the more, uh, vociferous members of, shall we say, the rebellion.  I guess I'll drop in, but I'll only listen because I don't have too much to say, at least not until I get a grasp on what is going on.

Still, this is a pain in the ass.  Not just this "transition," which is insane, but now the efforts to organize a backlash against the "transition."  I mean, they mean well ... well, I think they mean well.  Hopefully it won't devolve into another dumpster fire, this time fueled by the equivalent of the socialist left.  I just hope I won't interrupt the nap I am going to take as soon as I am done with this blog post just to drop into this meeting and discover that people are only there just to vent their spleens.  Don't need to hear that, even if it's toward a just cause.

Long-Ass E-Mail About An Impending Dumpster Fire

Just got done, after three Hours, of typing up an e-mail to my alumni club saying there is no alumni club anymore.

Yeah.  Got the news earlier this month in a Zoom which was reinforced Tuesday on another Zoom.  Instead of alumni events worldwide being done through board members of an alumni chapter, my alma mater's alumni association is going to "encourage" alumni to just volunteer for any old thing.  And even though they're thousands of miles away, those guys will "train" and "bless" that event any old schlub could do with the imprimatur of my university.  Yay.

This is like hollowing out middle management whenever a company has to lay off people.  There is now upper management and the rank and file.  No middleman (or -woman) with knowledge of the institution and the area that knows how to get things done -- and has proven he or she is committed to getting things done, because he or she loves his or her alumni.  Instead, I'll be continuing to do my own thing, but some jagoff can just come in, say, "Hey, I wanna do something!" and the alumni association will say, "OK, now both of you can do it!"  And it doesn't matter that I've been fucking President for eight goddamn years.

People on these calls have been pissed.  Like I said in the last blog post, some of the comments have sounded like people going to city council meetings vowing they'll never wear masks because of the "deep state" or some Republican stupid shit.  But otherwise, they're right -- this will be a disaster.

Deceptively Bad Night At Home

Last night sucked.  It truly did.  Got home, but my parents weren't.  They said they needed to change a flat tire, but maybe their renovating went long.

I planned on eating dinner before getting on this Zoom meeting with other alumni about these, uh, changes going on with my club, but it turned out that I had to make my own dinner -- throw the leftover chicken in the toaster oven and make rice in the cooker, for myself and my folks once they got home.

I thought I would have to wait until the meeting was over to eat.  Instead, I got so antsy that I just ate dinner while in the middle of the Zoom.  If the people hosting complained, I would just tell them I had to make dinner for the family and it couldn't wait.

And by the way, the meeting was a damn mess.  These changes were mostly unilaterally made, and the people on the call are pissed.  I'm not that angry, although one of the hosts admitting they did not tell any of us about these plans being implemented by July 1 raised my cackles.  With that being said, however, you should see the comments in the chatroom -- and I don't mean that in a good way.  Criticism, even harsh criticism, was warranted toward the people mandating these changes.  But the juvenile fuckery some of these guys (whose side I'm supposed to be on) spewed, getting down to ad hominem attacks on the hosts, made me think these guys are like Trump supporters yelling like jackasses about not wearing masks because FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!!!!

So everything about that is a dumpster fire, and I'll have to explain that to my group.  In the meantime, Father needed help finding a YouTube about installing a double-pole thermostat to the wall, and despite the vast reach of the Internet, I couldn't find one.  Oh, and Mother started yelling at me for sending a complaint e-mail to my sister instead of the company who is supposed to send her some bakery appliance.  Buzz off, woman -- you're the one who opened up the reply to the wrong e-mail, and it ain't my job to double-check something as fundamentally as to whom your e-mail is supposed to go to.  The hell's a matter with you?  I'm not taking your bullshit.

I'm tired and I need to go to bed, and there's still tons of things I need to do.  Ack.

Deceptively Bad Day At Work

Things kind of cascaded downward at work.  I got locked out of a program for putting in the wrong password too many times just as The Rude Pundit was going to be on Stephanie Miller, and then when I called the IT department I was on hold for so long that after five minutes I gave up and hung up.  Then I realized that I just had to ask my supervisor to ask someone to unlock it for me.  In the meantime, I missed much of Rude Pundit's spot on Miller so I thought I would use my phone (and data) to listen to him, but I then realized I left the Apple iPhone-specific headphones at home, so I just put the phone up to my ear to listen to it, which made my boss kind of suspicious.

Oh, and later in the day, when I had to go to the lab, I needed to copy something but the person who used it before me had some weird settings and didn't reset it, so I printed out ten double-sided copies when I only needed one.  (The settings were set for 25 copies, but at least I was able to stop it before it copied that much.)  Then I had to mess around with the copier because even though I got it down to one setting, I didn't know how to get rid of the single-sided-to-double-sided setting.  After I printed off two more copies I didn't want, I saw the "Reset" button on the screen and that did it.

I really just want a workday that's a lot less frustrating.  Hope I get that today.  Please.

Assessing The Week Ahead

Well, I did not get in an evening nap -- had all morning Sunday to sleep in -- but I felt real tired around 10:30, so I turned the light off and laid in bed and if I fell asleep, I fall asleep.  And I did.  Alarm just woke me up.  Got seven hours of sleep in, and if it wasn't for work, I would have slept even more.

Nothing bad work-wise coming, I don't think.  Am getting re-trained at What Used To Be My Favorite Department for a couple hours this week.  Taking a half-day on Friday just because.

Actually, even though I'm already looking forward to the weekend, helping my parents mow one of their properties Saturday is something I'm not looking forward to.  Getting up, schlepping the lawnmower to North Minneapolis, mowing in an unfamiliar environment, being under Father's watchful eye, then expecting to come home and do more things instead of going out ... stressful.  And Sunday a stripper girlfriend (the one I missed seeing at the Floyd Memorial, actually) is organizing something at a park.  Might go, but only to see her, and if she's too busy to talk to, why go?

Something looming: Need to talk to the county about jury duty.  Just re-read something and, uh, I might need to let my boss know about it.  Sheesh.

Gotta go to work.

So I make a point on occasion to not leave the house until I listen to a full soccer Match on SiriusXM.  And by listen I mean I have it on while I'm next to either my phone or my laptop.

Finally woke up around 10; it just so happens that an EPL Game at 10:15.  Wanted to eat fast food (turns out I had a Burger King coupon set to expire today), then see if I would run into my stripper girlfriend at the Floyd Memorial, then get some juice at Target -- and I would have liked to get out of the house in the late morning/early afternoon.  Shoot, when I woke up I remembered that Wendy's has this breakfast promotion whereby you can purchase one of four items at full price and get a second of those four for $1.  But, I wanted to listen to the match, in its entirety.  Not necessarily listen to it intently; I figured I could put on sunscreen and bug spray so I could leave as soon as the match was over.  But I wanted to stay at home to listen, and if it means staying at home till a bit past noon, so be it.

And then I realized that when I went into the bathroom to put on sunscreen and insect repellent, I left my phone in the bedroom.  Surely wasn't paying attention to the Game then.  So did I really listen to the EPL Match in its entirety?

And so I stayed at home for two Hours to fulfill a tenet of my OCD that I technically did not fulfill, and I was late leaving the house.  Didn't matter, to be honest; the crowd at the Floyd Memorial has thinned out considerably since last week, which was thinner than that of the week before, and I didn't have to stick around because my stripper girlfriend never made it out there.  But still.

I Had No Chance, But I Sure Didn't Need The Visual Aides

So the most gorgeous and beautiful woman at work started after me; I think she's only been there for just over a year.  She works in the department across ours, and in filing away folders, she sometimes literally is working across from me, through the big window that separates her department from mine.  So, as I'm working at my workstation, she walks in, and my day gets a bit brighter.  She is a petite thing, with long, brown hair (it probably would be shorter; she might be waiting to get her hair cut) and, whenever I catch her taking a glimpse through the window at me, I get affixed by her (I think) pale blue eyes.  And this one time, she was wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt, and I saw that her white undershirt rode up once to reveal her belly.  I'll remember that for some time.

But while I fantasize over her, I know I have no chance.  We have exchanged pleasantries only a few times -- hellos and thank-yous, nothing more.  She seems friendly with her co-workers in her department, but from the way she is described in a flyer denoting that she was one of several employees singled out for awards for her work last year, she is professional, although curt and aloof might also be apt.  If I were the pervert I was 20 Years ago, I might've made an ass of myself in order to get her attention, and I'd be so bent out of shape after she professionally, curtly and aloofly rebuffed my overtures that I would have done something so stupid it would get me fired.  If she were to come on to me, that'd be different.  But she's been on the other side of the window for over a year now, and she hasn't come on to me at all.  There's nothing between us.  Hell, someone as hot as her is probably married to a biker who could beat my ass.  She could have four kids for all I know.

Last week I noticed something.  She again was walking to the table that is set so that she would be arranging these folders while being directly in my line of sight through this big window.  I noticed her from my peripheral vision.  She had not buttoned up her lab coat yet, she was wearing a relatively tight shirt and ... I detected what I believe to be a baby bump.  Wow.  And then, she just so happened to lift her left hand, palm toward her, up to her chest.  In retrospect I have no idea why it didn't occur to me to surreptitiously see if she has a ring on her finger.  Well, she does.  So she is married to a biker who could beat my ass and has four kids.

Like I said, I said to myself there is no chance we could ever have a relationship.  I don't lust after co-workers anymore; I've grown up in the past two decades -- it's a waste of time.  And yet, seeing her baby bump followed by her wedding ring was a 1-2 punch that knocked me onto the canvas for the full 10-count.  I knew not to get my hopes up, but when I got actual confirmation not to get my hopes up -- and not just one sign but two -- I realized that there was a small part of me that thought, "You know, if we ever got to talking for an extended period of time, maybe it could lead to something."  And then karma went HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Have to admit: My dreams are dashed.  This one hurts.

Maybe Not The Best Thing To Do Father's Day Eve

So My Fucking Mother spouted off again because of some e-mail she didn't understand.  Turns out the router my parents have in Las Vegas has a security hole and the e-mail contains a link to a patch for it.  That didn't end my conversation with her; she continued to ask my other questions, which got progressively more stupid and unanswerable -- no, Mother, I cannot do this for your router in Vegas because we are not in Vegas.  So she finally asks me to forward this e-mail to myself so that once they get to Vegas, whenever that is, she can reach out and bother the shit out of me from two time zones away in order to get their router fixed.

So, I'm not in a good mood.  And I'm tired, too.  And it's sunny out and I can't go anywhere.  Still, I wait around the living room to take the garbage out.  And as I'm waiting for My Fucking Father to clean up the rest of the kitchen, he asks me, "Do you go to work tomorrow?"  And I knew that motherfucker was trying to set me up, so I said, "Uh, maybe?"  Maybe that ain't a foolproof plan to prevent him from saying I should clean up my bedroom, because he replied, "When you have time, clean up your room, clean up the house."  And that set me off, not gonna lie.  Peace, motherfucker -- I'm gonna wash my hands; you take out the garbage, you yappy fuck.

Didn't dawn on me till later that tomorrow's Father's Day.  Is he pissed?  Who cares -- I'm pissed.

Tomorrow, I'll pointedly not clean my room and not clean up the house.  And then, at some point, I'll give him his $100 gift for Father's Day.  And he'll fucking take it.

Nightmare

This one I had Wednesday evening.

I was in an open office setting, with high walls but closely clustered cubicles.  I'm not walking between the cubicles.  I'm not walking, period -- instead, I am floating.  Not upright but prone.  And I am using the dividers of the cubicles to pull me forward around and around and around this workspace.

I am floating through this workspace in a panic.  (In my nightmares I am usually in a panic.)  I am panicked because I know that in the room next to this open-floor plan, people were being stabbed to death.  I confront -- either because I literally decide to stop floating in circles or I somehow was "captured" -- what I think is a person from the other room.  I don't remember if he (or she) is someone who has been stabbed or has been doing the stabbing.  Anyway, I push myself forward over the top of a low-height cubicle, I fly Superman-style towards this subject and ... that's when I wake up.

I feel as if I'm running away in nearly all my nightmares.  And I am floating, or at least moving at a pace and with an ease faster than walking, in most of my nightmares.  What could that mean?

Wait -- Mowing What Lawn Now???

Got home from work just now.  Earlier than usually because I was filling in for someone who comes in and leaves a half-hour earlier than I usually do.

Second thing I hear as I burst in the door (the first thing was Mother saying, "You're home early!") was Father saying, "Oh!  You don't have to mow the lawn in Minneapolis tomorrow.  You can mow it next week."

Last weekend Father asked me to mow the lawn this weekend.  That sounded weird to me, planning to mow the front and back yards a week ahead.  But I appreciate the advanced planning.  I was hoping I would be able to dodge the raindrops and do it tomorrow morning.  But ... now I don't?

I looked outside; sure, the grass in the front yard isn't tall, but it could use a cut.  Maybe I'll have time to just fuck around this weekend, one which, as I was working this week, I was looking forward to as much as I have looked forward to a weekend, for some reason, in a long, long time.

But that's not what Father was talking about.  He kept saying mowing "Minneapolis."  You mean, like, the entire city??  Finally I understood what the hell he was talking about: This weekend he wanted me to mow both our lawn and the lawn at one of their properties, the about which they were bitching to me about last night.

Yeah, I can do that.  And again, thanks for letting me plan ahead.  But there is no way My Father told me last weekend that he wanted me to mow that property's lawn.  He did not make it clear last weekend.  I don't think he even said anything about mowing somewhere else.  And yet he was acting as if he told me this specifically.  He is either delusional or he is having difficulty with English again.  And I shudder to think if he still wanted me to mow there when I had no clue what he was talking about.  It would have blindsided me so fucking hard.  Goddamn language barrier. ...

Wait -- She Might Actually Still Be A Bitch (Scheduled Post)

Have been thinking. ...

Do you remember my supervisor, the one I called That Bitch and That Cunt not too long ago after the way she treated me that one day?  She's been good to me since.  I chalked it up to her having a bad day.  

However, there is one thing.  That bad day was when I was placed in this ... not department, but a position, a special where I have to look for and iron out mistakes.  I was in this capacity that bad day, the one my supervisor kicked off by saying I needed to "pull my weight."  These inbetween days have been copacetic, but these are also days where I have not been in that position.

That changes as of today.  I am in that position today because a person who usually works in that position is taking the day off.  (I was supposed to be at this position last Friday, but I was scheduled instead in a different department.)  So I'll be where my supe said I was being too slow.  Will she pop off and go after me if she perceives me not earning my keep?

I just hope to get through the day and reach the weekend without any more psychic damage.

Oh, I'm Inheriting Your Properties? Bullshit!

So, My Fucking Mother just freaked out after dinner.  She wanted my help deciphering an e-mail she got from her property manager -- again.  (Sometimes she says her English is good, and sometimes not.  Whatever.)  This e-mail was just a reminder to send ... well, something to the now-former tenants of a property my folks own.  This e-mail was the latest in a chain of back-and-forths, the originating message of which came from the prop manager stating, among other things, that the owners of this property, aka my folks, need to cover their legal obligations by sending an itemized bill in the wake of cleaning up said property to the tenants.  It's important to note that they don't know where these tenants have moved to, but legally, all my parents have to do is send this bill to these people's last known address.  The reminder reminds my parents to do it soon.

And My Fucking Mother basically went, "WHA-WHA-WHA-WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!  I didn't know this!!!"  Even though I told her two weeks ago about this ... when she showed me that e-mail, the beginning of this thread, because she didn't fucking understand that e-mail either.  This should not comes as a surprise to her, but it did because she refused to pay attention.  So she told me to e-mail her saying, basically, that ain't my fuckin' problem, I pay you to do this shit.

But My Fucking Mother wasn't letting this shit go.  I was sticking around the living room so My Fucking Father could hand me that day's garbage that I would take out to the trash can.  It was (and is) thundering, but I was thinking I could get that garbage out there before the rain came.  I never got that garbage.  Instead, Mother started asking me again about that fucking e-mail.  I tried to explain to her that not only was her (as the "owner") supposed to send this mail, according to the e-mail the property manager sent to her, but that I told her this two weeks ago.

And then she started jibber-jabbering.  "I'm educating you!" she said.  Educating me?  You're the one asking me what you need to do!  And then she really laid the guilt trip on me.  "What happens if we die?  What are you going to do then?"  Anything that's better than the "advice" you're giving me, Mother.  Finally, after more bullshit came spewing out of her mouth, she tells me, in less-than-uncertain (?) terms, that all these properties are going to be mine some day, and I'd better get serious about running these properties.  This was a revelation timed for maximum psychic damage (and one I had already figured out, even though I put it out of my mind a lot), even though I have rarely seen any of these properties, even though these interests were and are my parents' and my parents' alone, even though the only exposure I usually have to these come in the form of problem e-mails my parents toss onto my lap because they play the victim because they say they can't understand any fucking English.  I'm not going to fucking care about this just because you tell me to fucking care.  And really, if they die and I inherit running these properties, goddammit, I'm selling them the first goddamn chance I get.

I had to retreat into my shell, again, just to shut both of them up.  (Oh, My Fucking Father got in on the yelling, too.)  All I could do was go back to the e-mail; they are going to follow up by dropping by the property manager's office tomorrow and tell them that, for all they know, they as owners just pay them to do everything, including mail these bills to cover their asses.  Seeing that nothing else can be done for the issue at hand until tomorrow, they quieted down.  And I find safety in my bed, and in this blog, and put out of my mind that, once again, I will need to clean up a mess I had no hand in making -- in the short-term and the long-term.

I Once Felt Happy At Work. Not Anymore.

I was shunted into What Once Was My Favorite Department for work the afternoon yesterday/Wednesday.  Whew -- it's always good to be in a secluded part of the building, with very few people hanging out back there, and no one walking behind you to catch you on the Internet.  Plus I feel like I can do a lot of the tasks I need to do, and I can do so without feeling as if someone is watching over my shoulder, both literally and figuratively.  I looked forward to it being a nice respite during the workweek.

But then my supervisor in the area gave me this checklist.  A checklist?  The hell?  And she started by saying I need to follow this every time I'm back at this department because last week, "Some things were missed."  Well, shit, some things are missed every time I go back there.  I have been upfront with her and my boss that there were some things that I need to work on and some things I flat-out did not know.  But compared to other departments I'm working in, this department was smooth sailing for me.  I certainly didn't think I need to hue to a checklist, that's for certain.

But I had to.  And, thus, I felt watched over, something I never have felt in this department before.  If I was to adhere to this checklist, I would have to literally follow every single item listed for me in there.  I was yoked to an assembly line when I didn't think there was one.  And I hate it, I do.  I had to ask my supervisor questions and for her help, two things I hate to do if I don't have to.  I now know that someone is figuratively watching over my shoulder.  And that has robbed me of a sense of security I had always felt I could nestle myself in to at work.  Plus -- and this looks like a bad sign -- I got bogged down with this checklist.  I felt more productive when I knew (or thought I knew) I had these tasks I knew how to do, and I could whip through them.  I now have to tread carefully or else I would skip a task on this damn checklist.  So I left work with a bunch of forms I didn't match up and some e-mails I couldn't get around to answering.

I understand I have not been perfect.  I could use some training and re-training, and I get around to some of that next week.  There is such a thing as "best practices" we should all strive for, I get that.  And my supervisor has been very helpful in leading me through things.  She's trying to help me while trying to do her job; I get that, too.  And yet I can't shake my ego.  I am not being left alone.  I feel as though I am being controlled unfairly.  And so that makes that part of the job no longer enjoyable.

Addendum To: Have A Coke And A Frown

And I thought downing the Pizza Hut with Coke would be awesome ... but it wasn't.  I mean, I had six slices of pizza, and I was happy, and it felt ... uh, right to chase it with Coke (even though I had to run back to the bedroom a couple times to take a few swigs -- Father would be on my ass if I drank it out in the dining room like I didn't have a care in the world).  But it wasn't the thirst-quencher I thought it would be in my dreams.

In fact, I put what was left of it, about a quarter, in the fridge post-dinner while I took a nap for an hour.  Right next to it I put the strawberry smoothie Mother made for me just after we got done with pizza, a post-pizza drink she was nice enough to make, but one that was overwhelming because 1) smoothies and pizza don't go together and 2) I had one liquid I was trying to finish and I didn't need two.

Well, I only thought I didn't need two.  I hadn't even started on my smoothie when I stashed it in the refrigerator.  But later, after I took them both out (hopefully neither parent opened up the fridge post-dinner and saw them), I sort of had a struggle finishing the Coke.  It tasted ... fine.  But after the first taste of the strawberry smoothie, man, I couldn't get enough.  I was gulping it down like it was no one's business.  And this is a measuring cup Mother usually uses to drink.  It was a lot, but it was no trouble for me to consume, or enjoy.  Which is weird when yesterday morning I was jonesing for a Coke.

Am I growing up?  Am I growing old?  Or is there something wrong with me?

Have A Coke And A Frown

Waking up yesterday morning wanting a Coke.  Not right then, but I thought to myself, "You know, I might buy myself a Coke to drink once I get home."  And once Mother asked me to buy bananas, I thought that was my sign that I could buy a Coke, too.  So I did.

Drank some for dinner.  (Hid it in my bedroom; Father does not want me drinking pop.)  But after I woke up from yet another deep nap, I still had three-quarters of warm Coke to drink.  I was hungry, and it just so happened I bought both sea salted tree nuts and Gardetto's on Saturday.  Those go great getting chased down with Coke!

So I ate both the peanuts and the Gardetto's over the course of an hour while watching Songland.  (Great show, by the way.  Interesting look at the sausage-making behind the creation of a tune.)  And though I love eating both snacks (in particular, the sea salted tree nuts, which are from the Target generic brand, are so salty that it might counteract the good that comes from eating tree nuts), I ate so much because I had so much Coke I needed food with which to wash it down.  And, well, now I'm feeling it in my stomach.  It felt cramming those nuts and Gardetto's down my mouth, but now that they're in my stomach, er, not so much.

I have weighed myself on occasion recently and I'm still a bit over 160.  I'm still shocked I'm not at least ten pounds heavier than that.  The reason why might be that I had not drank so much pop lately.  But I had a Coke to go with Culver's Sunday, and now there's this.  Sugar definitely might be the reason I am overweight, and maybe I can't get away with drinking so much nowadays.

Oh, and I still have coffee from work I haven't completely drank yet.

Double-oh -- we're having pizza for dinner today!  It's going to be too hot to cook at the propane grill in the back deck.  I love pizza, but that means buying more Coke.  Maybe it'll feel better to eat and drink all that much tonight ... only to regret it in the evening, as I feel yet another mass in my stomach and believe I weigh closer to 175 than 160.  Ugh. ...

So I finally pulled the trigger and broke the bad news to the applicants who applied for the club's scholarship.  I hope those I said no to don't think my rejection letter is bullshit.  Truly, all the students who applied sound absolutely fucking awesome, and by all rights they all deserve money.  I could only pick one, and although I stand by my decision, I still feel absolutely terrible writing those regret e-mails.

I also hope to God I didn't make any typos, nor said anything that could be construed as insensitive or tone-deaf.  I think I double-checked enough times to avoid that.  But I could be wrong.

I deserve to relax now.  Hope there is no blowback.

Disappoint A Stripper; Stripper Disappoints Me

This afternoon I went back to this stripper's place to try and unlock, update and restore her iPad.  Didn't work; after I reset that tablet and began the process, the tablet said it was disabled.  Did it twice more, and twice more it said it was disabled.  I am out of ideas, and until I see another option online, that's the end of the road for me helping her with this.  Got a massage from her, though, and she gave me 50% off of that.

Then went to the Floyd Memorial mostly to see if *****a was there, helping out to either give food or hawk t-shirts.  She said was going to get there after leaving work, but I had to go home before she got there.  Tried yesterday too, but she didn't text me back.  Don't know if she was there then.  I don't know if she will be there next week.  Hell, I don't know if the Floyd Memorial will be there next week.

My Long, Deep Naps

For the past couple weeks, probably coinciding with my resumption to full-time work, I have crawled into my bed after dinner and fallen asleep -- deep, hard, and for a time period that has increased from, say, half an hour to, this week, 2 1/2 Hours.  And I topped myself last night when I slept in the evening for 3:15.  I missed my Zoom meeting with my fellow smart people.  Hope they're not mad.

I think these naps mostly are due to not adjusting (at least not yet) to my new/old schedule.  I have been averaging less than four Hours of sleep per night, a result of staying up and surfing the Internet like I got to wake up at 7:30 instead of 6.  I'm just getting back into the groove of taking naps in my car for lunch at work (was able to fall asleep only once this week), so my body is exhausted by the time I get home, and evenings are where, for now, I pay my sleep debt.

That should throw my sleep schedule off balance.  If I sleep too much during the evening, I would stay up well into the night.  (That may very well be the case now, but I chalk it up to just wanting to stay up well into the night.)  And I have not been falling asleep readily as I had during my part-time weeks.  So right now I am in a period of abbreviated sleeps that probably isn't good for me.

I might be able to catch up now, after I blog post this and head into bed.  But I promised a stripper friend I would help her unlock her iPad, and that's about seven Hours away.  I am going to the hardware store for my parents, I think I'll visit the Floyd Memorial again (if only to see another stripper girlfriend who says she's hanging out there), and I need to get gasoline for my car.  If I don't get enough sleep now, I might be dead tired by the time I get back ... which means another long, deep nap in the evening that extends through my other weekend Zoom meeting with my fellow smart people.

My Father's Supposed Birthday Was Yesterday

Ah, shit, I forgot it was Father's birthday yesterday.  Well, more like "birthday" -- I suspect my parents don't know each other's birthday, so they just made them up.  But I tried to remember, and meant to remember, his birthday, and to tell him ... yesterday.  Shit, I put in a reminder on my laptop!  I never use the calendar feature on my computer!  And I fucking forgot.

We never celebrated our parents' birthday when we were young!

Just texted him Happy Birthday now.  I think I'm going to catch shit for it, though.  Do I try to clean my room to make up for it?  Probably doesn't matter.  He's going to save my slight and use it against me on a future date.

(shrug)

I Know I Shouldn't Worry About Timing The Stock Market But ... Bad Timing

Since the pandemic lockdown began I have looked at my stock portfolio with a fine- -- well, a finer- -- toothed comb.  I had neglected it for months, even years until a few months ago.  But time, along with the extra $600 in unemployment I got from the government the past nine weeks, gave me the opportunity to look at, prune, and grow my portfolio.  Hey, the stock market has taken a beating these past few months, so this makes it a perfect time to invest.

And I have.  First of all, I have begun to ... I think it's called re-balance my portfolio.  Before the vast majority of my investment has been on one United States-based growth mutual fund.  That was a great engine for my portfolio until the coronavirus hit.  It was high time for me to diversify, and I have.  To what?  Well, that's where all this time has allowed me to look at some cheap individual stocks I could finally pour some money into.  There's a drug company I doubled my shares in.  And, among others, I poured in some money in a second drug company that has shot up tremendously in value.  I invested in four new companies more than a month ago, and they've rebounded from the lows at which time I jumped in with both feet.

My timing with those four stocks was good.  Yesterday, not so much.  For what I think will be my final new investment for a while (I'm back to working full-time so that extra $600 dole money ain't comin' in no more), I finally got around on acting on my idea to invest in Carnival Cruise Lines.  I know it was one of the cruises which had a nightmare situation where the entire damn ship got infected with COVID-19 (I think two people died there?), and with the resulting lockdown, no one was going on cruises and so the entire industry has gone to shit.  But that's precisely when you should invest in it!  I don't think shares will be this cheap for a long time, if ever.  And although I hate being stuck on those floating germ wagons, a lot of people love cruises, two of them being my parents.  So once (not if) the cruise industry rebounds, I'll be raking in the dough.

I just have to invest in it now.  But ... now-now?  Carnival has been well off its highs for months now, but it had seen a slight uptick in price.  So, just before I placed my buy order, I thought about whether I should wait, and also whether I should just buy 50 shares and not the 100 I intended to purchase.  "What happens if the price plummets the next day?" I thought.  I decided to bite the bullet and just buy the 100 shares (I arranged it to be bought first thing yesterday/Thursday morning when trading began) because those shares could go up in value and I would have to pay more for them, and I would hate myself for trying to time the market.

Well, the Dow had its worst day since March instead.  Apparently the zeitgeist is such that the worldwide spike in coronavirus cases made investors think the tourism industry is not going to come back as soon as they thought, so they just sold off their shares of any company in that industry.  And I just checked the current price of a share of Carnival (for some weird reason that stems from an acquisition it made a few years back, there are two separate classes of Carnival stock, each with its own floating price; I bought the cheaper one, which is based in London) and it dropped two bucks from the price I think I bought it at.  So that's $200 I lost.

I time the market even when I don't time the market.

But I have to let it go.  Can't panic now, dammit.

Product Review: Samsung UN22F5000

I've wanted to do this for a long time, and I think it's high time I do it.

I have had this Samsung 22-inch LED TV for ... half a decade now?  When my old cathode-ray television finally went kaput, it was time for me to get with the times, but high-definition TVs were still kind of expensive then.  Besides, even though everybody was going for as big of a television as could fit in their room, I wanted to be modest -- a small, unobtrusive, light and manageable TV was all I needed, especially for what I considered to be a starter LED.  I did my research and decided that shelling out this TV for ... I wanted to say more than $200? ... was the right choice.

I am happy with it.  It turns on just like that, which I love.  It's still going strong performance-wise.  I find only three things "wrong" with it:

1. Some stations just don't come in.  I wish the Univision channel would; not being able to watch Liga MX Games on it is a pain.  Some others don't come through unless I move the antenna, or dangle it off the side of the dresser that and the TV are on.  But that's not the fault of the TV.
2. There are so many bells and whistles with this TV I know I am using, like, 10 per cent of its capabilities.  I remember thumbing through the instructions to try and get the most out of it, but it was so think and had so many features I didn't understand that I forgot nearly everything I taught myself to do.  These LEDs are too complex.  Again, I'm "coping" just fine without them, but it would be nice to find the time to look at the manual to see if there's something else that would make my experience with the TV even better ... if I could find that instruction booklet.
3. Probably the biggest bugaboo with the TV is the remote.  It has a curved bottom, making it natural to carry and use in the palm of your hand.  But I don't usually put it in my hand; I rest it on the dresser which is next to me on the bed.  When I'm watching TV, I want to completely relax, and that means I don't even have the energy to hold the remote control.  I lay it flat on the dresser and push down on the buttons when I want to change the channel ... well, I would if the remote didn't rock every time I did that.  So I would have to pick it up, cradle the thing in my hand, push the button, then set it back down on the dresser once I found a station.  Pain in the ass.  I mean, one can develop carpal tunnel if one keeps doing that.

Still, fat bullet points of drawbacks aside, I am very, very happy with this LED TV.  I recommend it -- if it is still available to be purchased, which I doubt it is.

Let's Talk About Race WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I just put the finishing touches on an e-mail blast that will be sent out to the alumni club membership in 5 1/2 Hours.  There are some things they need to know about and they have deadlines.  (There's something else, something big, but I need to hold off on announcing that until I get the complete story.)  But, in communicating those things, I had to talk about George Floyd and the protests.  This is Minneapolis-St. Paul, after all, and yes, like so many companies and organizations (and universities such as my alma mater), I feel compelled to also denounce racism and police brutality and call for change.

And I slaved over what to say about for the past, oh, 90 Minutes.  I was worried about blowback -- partially from people who would say that I didn't go far enough, but mostly from people who essentially think, "No, Floyd's a criminal ... and how dare you speak for me and say we need to defund the MPD?  And who are you to tell me I'm racist?"  As president of the club I have to worry about the comity of the membership.  But in the end, even though I'm not quite sure if I used the right words, I need to be on the sides of not being racist and no, the police cannot beat people protesting.  I can't be neutral on this, and I certainly can't just ignore it.

So I talked about it.  At length.  And I invited people to reach out to me if they wanted to talk more about racism and police brutality.  Which makes me nervous, because shoot, I don't want to talk about race and corrupt law enforcement.  But it's time to get off the fence and pick a side.  And if it loses me members, hey, it loses me members.

Besides, I might be losing members anyway because I might be losing the club anyway.  That's that "something else" I alluded to above.  Watch this space.

That Wasn't As Painful As I Thought!

According to the rundown of my friend's podcast, I was first, so I did all the heavy lifting talking about George Floyd and the state of the Minneapolis police force off the bat.  I prattled on and on, and I sure would have liked to take some stuff back, but once the rundown moved on, I could relax and do what I do best, or at least better -- comment on other people.  From there it was fun asking my other three friends questions about policing, race relations and sports.  That last topic is important because it wasn't as important as race; there, I am talking about something I'm interested in, and thus something I know.  And I think all four of us were able to settle back into our old college radio days and sling yang like back in the day.

We were supposed to go only 90 Minutes.  We spoke up to an hour more after that, and I could have gone all night talking to them.  It was the first time in a long time, if not since we graduated, that we all spoke to each other in such a forum.  I wish we could do that again.

I See Again I Am Not Where I Want To Be

My friend (I called him my frenemy -- I blog posted about how he pissed me off a long time ago by being a passive-aggressive horse's ass [I would find that blog post but, ah, I'd rather not]) texted me out of the blue to call him.  He asked if I could appear on his podcast (he has a podcast??) about George Floyd and how the worldwide wave of protests could affect our alma mater's football team.  Recording of said podcast is tonight.  I said sure.  It has helped me exercise my journalism muscles which have atrophied by making me think about what to say as efficiently as I can.

Also, this episode reunites us with two other guys who we worked with at our college radio station's sports department.  Those were some of the best and, I dare say, most productive times I had at college.  I truly looked forward to reporting, being on the show, being on the radio spouting my opinions for, like, two people to hear, and talking crap with these guys.  We all had dreams of being sportscasters, or at least doing what we were doing in that dirty, decrepit old radio station as a career.  We all knew how difficult it would be, but we had each other, and if we fed off of each other's dreams, well, how could we be unhappy?

Well, one of the four is now doing sports on TV.  Another isn't doing sports, but he has a steady gig doing news on the radio, which is awesome.  And the friend with the podcast may get the odd gig here and there, but he has taken the initiative and asserted he is in sports because he has a podcast, which is totally legitimate these days.  And I ... help out at a lab.

(Aside: The summer after I officially graduated from college, I took this extra journalism class where we went to Europe to see how different media organizations and companies worked.  I was one of four guys, to be sexist.  The other three are currently on TV.  And I ... help out at a lab.)

I am already nervous about trying to perform.  I'm not a great speaker, so I'll feel under the gun not to stumble over my words.  Add to it that the subject matter, race and police brutality, are subjects I do not like to marinate in, and the danger I won't be able to speak my thoughts coherently increases even further.  But what really pains me just happened last night.  In preparing for the podcast, my friend texted me to ask how I want to be introduced, or slated.  And that's where my failure to progress in the sports journalism business wounds me deeply.  I'm not on TV or the radio, and if helping to get water for production trucks is not "being in sports," well, I'm not in that, either.  I'm not even in journalism, which is what I went to school for.  The other three are still pursuing that dream and/or are living it.  They have bona fides they can proud of.  And I ... help out at a lab.

So I told my friend about my fear.  He said he'll finesse it.  He'll introduce me as a friend back from our college days, and he'll say I'm on his show because I live in the Minneapolis area.  Thank God I won't have to lie, and thank Buddha the truth he says instead isn't too embarrassing.  But as much as I love to see the band back together, it also hurts me to realize in reuniting like this how much they were able to progress in what we wanted to do while I haven't ... or, to be more precise, didn't.

Like that old Sesame Street song says, "One of these things is not like the other."  That thing is me, and that makes me both stressed and depressed.

Don't Mind Me, I'm A Hypocrite

These pandemic weekends, when I hear my parents bickering outside my bedroom, all I can think of is either, "Dammit, I wish I had the house all to myself," or, "Dammit, I wish I could just go out!"

This weekend, yesterday afternoon and now, my parents have left the house -- taking care of one of their properties, I think.  I have the house all to myself.  But do you know what I'm now thinking, and doing?  Going out.  I have reasons; I went to the Floyd Memorial on 38th and Chicago yesterday because I was curious, and today because my friend at USC wants to interview me about Floyd tomorrow on his podcast.  (Oh, and there's a stripper girlfriend I want to meet there.  She was there yesterday but I couldn't find her.  I'll try and again this afternoon, but she hasn't told me if she was going to be there.)  But I should be happy that I have peace and quiet in the house all by my lonesome, and the only urge I have in my mind is to get out.

So don't mind me the next time I bitch about this.  I'm a hypocrite.

Hottest Babe In The Hooters Calendar: May

Hmmm ... now that I see this month, I'm going to say that it's above average, and yet I cannot make out a Top 5.  That's because there is, like, one that I think is better than the other 11, and then there are another half-dozen that are inseparable from each other, and then the other five that are just OK.

So here are the six that are all tied for second place, and the main knock on them:

• Houston's Candace, Kaylee out of Flint, Mich., and Aysia from Tulsa -- great bodies all, and they are all babes of color, which Hooters needs (and, to its credit if the growing number of black and brown bodies in this year's calendar is any indication, which the company is very aware of), but their faces are, uh, somewhat wack.  Kaylee's face may be the best, but her arms crossed in front of her body is a demerit against her photo.
• Michaela out of Sanford, Fla. -- hey, I remember her from last year!  She's a hottie then, and she's a hottie now, and her photo is the bomb.  But ... she was the main girl in a month last year, and I think I picked her as Hottest Babe for that month.  I'm going to try not to give seconds.
• Alexis, of Ft. Myers, Fla. -- great face, beautiful smile.  But while her black swimsuit has a plunging neckline that goes down close to her navel and reveals fantastic cleavage (and huge boobs that probably are fake), it is still a one-piece, and the girl in first is not in a one-piece.
• Jessica, out of Mishawaka, Ind. -- great smile, luscious long, brown hair.  But she's posed in side profile and her left arm is blocking her tight stomach.  And she is seen in front of a clothesline of Hooters waitress uniforms, which is, uh, hokey.

The woman in first place has no conspicuous drawbacks.  She is the main girl, Angela, hailing from Naples, Fla.  Long, straight, black hair, Mona Lisa smile, a floral print two-piece bikini, and breasts (probably fake) that spread out to show massive, massive cleavage.  The more I stare at her, the more she becomes a runaway winner for May 2020.

And the more I will masturbate to her.

New Haircut, Bad Day

Look, I like ****e*, I really do.  But not only was she late in getting to the park by an hour, it took her 90 Minutes to give me a haircut.  And then she insisted on giving me a haircut that she likes, one that is far from the buzz cut I told her I wanted.  It's way longer up top, way longer than I am comfortable with.  She keeps saying it makes me look younger, and that I should try it.  If you're Generation X, did you ever receive a gift from a "friend" that was a mix tape of songs your friend liked and said, "You'll totally love these songs!  You should try it!"  This is that in haircut form.

But she gave me water and I was just happy that 15 weeks' worth of hair came off my head, so whatever.  (We did this at a park so hopefully the ventilation, the not-so-stale outside air and the not-weak wind pulled our air droplets to the ground.  That's how it works, right?)  Unfortunately I got to ****e's at 2:2* when I should have been there at least two Hours earlier, so I had no time to sleep, and really I just stopped in, showered, ate an early dinner, fucked her, then left.  So I was in a rush to go to Target to get juice and to get my free donut (with purchase of a drink, in my case a vanilla bean Coolatta because they ran out of iced tea [!!!] for National Donut Day (which turned into donuts plural -- Dunkin' Donuts was literally getting rid of them), so I was late getting home by half-an-hour, which I had already pushed back by half an hour when I knew I was going to be late.  And then I had no appetite because of the Coolatta and the beef I ate at ****e's place and the Breakfast Baconator and the sausage, egg and cheese croissant I got for a buck at Wendy's as part of its new promotion, and in fact all that food together forced me to go the bathroom in the middle of dinner, so all I had was rice and tuna.

And I'm still not happy because fucking Christ, ****e* was late and she gave me a hair cut that I didn't want!  Seriously, why can't she give me what I told her I wanted?  And why did she take 2:45 to give me this haircut I don't want?!  And I couldn't sleep at ****e's place and I was rushed in fucking her (although the sex was great) and now I have diarrhea and two stale donuts I won't finish until Sunday!  And my stomach still feels oogy!  And I just slept for 4 1/2 Hours and I'm not tired now!  And I told My Father I would mow the lawn today!  And my parents asked me when I got up from the dinner table if I had diarrhea!  AND ALL THIS BECAUSE OF A FUCKING HAIRCUT!!!

But hey, hair's gone now.

OK, so today, on my day off, I'm going to (hopefully) get my hair cut and then I'm going to (presumably) crush ****e for the third time in four Weeks, and for the final time in, well, some time.  Wish me luck!

Expenses Without Receipt

Starting from Thursday, June 4:

• Well, even though I am starting to you use cash more, I still haven't used it much.  I go back to Thursday, May 28, where I fucked ****e.  She didn't suck my dick, and she didn't let me fuck her twice.  She said she was tired.  I want to think I was the one who tired her out, but probably not.  Paid her: $120.
• This was the time to put away one shiny new penny, one bicentennial quarter, and two new quarters in storage.  Total: 76 cents.
• And now we go back to Wednesday the 20th, where I had to get my rocks off with ****a.  She wouldn't let me undress her because of the virus.  But she gave me a handjob anyway, so I was still physically close to her, so wouldn't I be able to give her the virus anyway?  Whatever: $150.
• I then went downtown to get my Doc's shined from Lisa.  Forgot my wallet in the car, so I had to leave my polish with Lisa as collateral.  I went to my car, got my wallet, and paid her, with tip: $20.
• On my way home it appeared as though gas prices were spiking up.  The quash in oil prices after the nation shut itself down appears to have eased now that states have decided -- wrongly -- that it's safe to resume normal operations.  So I scrambled around and finally decided to fill up at The Other Speedway, which I thought was going to be converted to a Holiday last year.  And absentmindedly, I decided to use cash.  What's worse was that I even paid cash even though it was pay inside-or-credit card, and I decided I was going to use cash, which meant going inside and maybe getting the virus that was trapped indoors.  Furthermore, the $20 I paid was way too much, and so I had to march in and get $5.65, the amount I didn't use, back.  Subtraction showss that I spent: $14.35.

And now I'm good through June 4.

OK, OK, I Take Back Everything I Said About Her, And About My Rate

She re-trained me on something and not only was she communicative, she was friendly and helpful.  So I take back calling her a bitch and a cunt.  I said that as a defense mechanism in case she wanted to escalate our argument a week ago.  But she did not.  Instead, she acted like a professional, something I was afraid she would not do.  But she did.  So I apologize.  I will also unilaterally disarm, and I am glad, because I can now relax just a little bit at work.

Oh, in another addendum: That thing about my keying rate being so slow?  I took it to my boss, who re-ran the numbers and ... it was missing a "1" in the hundreds place.  That tripled my rate, and turned it from a slothful, execrable one to a sterling, impressive one.  So that went from bad to good.  And it didn't matter that my sheet was laid down face-up.  My now-great score would make others jealous!

Yeah, it was a good day yesterday.

The Most Fucking Passive-Aggressive Thing I've Dealt With In A Long, Long Time

I came out from the lab to start sanitizing my desk before leaving for the day.  On my keyboard there was a sheet, one made out of heavy stock.  I recognized it immediately.  Every Month we get our keying rate.  It shows how many forms we have keyed through, and how many errors we have committed.  I made zero errors, which is good.  But somehow, my hourly rate was about 35% of what it usually is, and about 35% of what we are supposed to maintain each Month.  If I keep ducking below our quote for enough Months, I'll be fired.

Bullshit that it was that low.  Somebody must have fucked up the formula that determined this.  Sure, the month was so slow that the entire department got done keying most Days after, like, 2 1/2 Hours, so hey, maybe that was the reason for my number to be that low.  But it can't be that low.  I would have to literally be on my phone for hours at a time to be that low.

But that wasn't what irked me.  I looked at all the other heavy-stocked sheets that were laid at the desks of all my co-workers.  They have always been laid face-down.  This time around, mine was the only one laid face-up.

Goddamn her.  Did That Bitch hand out these forms?  If so, her turning it up, invading my privacy and showing this shitty number (bullshit as it is) for all the world to see is some petty, underhanded, passive-aggressive motherfucking bullshit.

And then I realized: Why did I sign off on it?  You are supposed to initial for each Month.  Does initialing mean I approve of the number?  Because I don't.  Fuck me, I might have just signed my death warrant, especially if That Cunt set me up with a bogus number.

Shit, I need to talk to my boss about this.  That number can't be real.

So I Finally Talked To My Boss, And ...

... I found him to be receptive.  I did tell him my beef and continuous worry about my supervisor, and I think he acknowledged it with a monitoring stance, any more of which would have made me scared that he would overreact.  I made him aware, and I think that's the important thing.

However ... when it came to the issues of what That Bitch accused me of and how I fucked up that folder, he took the training baton I handed off to him and he ran with it.  He noted that one of my other supervisors is going to re-train me on the other departments ... to get me to work faster.

Yeah, um, I was implying to my boss that That Cunt's accusation that I was slow was bullshit.  I get that, uh, he doesn't think so.  I am ... miffed.  Maybe I should take this as them not giving up on me, that it's not my fault.  But honestly?  One foot may not be out the door, but my mind is now really, really wandering.  And if she comes back at me with more backhanded insults, well, I'll have to talk to the temp agency again.

Damn That Traffic Jam

One thing I have liked about the pandemic, and in particular the economic shutdown over the pandemic, is the decrease in traffic.  In the couple weeks before my hours were cut that shutdown began, and I noticed it in the lack of cars on the highway.  That helped me a lot, especially in the morning.  There is one right turn I need to make onto the street that marks the heavy traffic for morning rush, and if I don't get to the light before it turns red or before the cars on the cross-street stop making their lefts, I might be stuck there.  It can't be more than two Minutes, but it seems like 20.  And although I always try to find an empty spot I can turn and accelerate into, if I can't find it, my commute instantly becomes more aggravating.

There were no issues like that when I headed out in the morning to start my full day.  Coast was so clear, it nearly brought a tear to my eye.  And then my hours were cut and I started heading off at around 8 or 8:30 or 9 and ... even though I don't remember the last time my morning commute started then, there were even fewer cars on the road then.  So for the past two Months or so I have had no heart palpitations over being late for work.  (Well, I'm still late for work, but for the past couple Months it's because of me deciding to get and eat breakfast before getting to my company.)

I wonder if thing are going to go back to normal now.  I have to remember that two things changed: The cut in traffic because of the economic shutdown and the cut in my hours.  The latter may be restored, but the former may not be, at least not yet.  So, if I'm back to full-time but the rest of the state hasn't, that'll still be good for my commute.  But if not, and Minnesota is fully back to work?  Well, that short, quick, unimpeded drive to work in the morning was too good to last, I guess.