I Wanna Be A Women's World Cup-Watching Warrior!!!

The uniqueness of this Women's World Cup is that because it's being held in Australia and New Zealand, the Matches are being played overnight.  There has been a couple Matches that started at 9 Central time (including the first two Matches the United States played), and Argentina and South Africa kicked off at 7, gloriously.  But most of the Matches so far have kicked off at 2:30 and 5 in the morning, with some midnight and 8 a.m. kickoffs sprinkled in there.

Don't know when exactly I became a whore for soccer, especially for global and continental tournaments, but I am.  And now that the Women's World Cup has gotten to the final Group Stage Matches where teams are either getting into the Knockout Round or not, it's getting real interesting.  And I want to see it, even if they start overnight.

The last Games in Group A have already happened: They kicked off yesterday/Sunday morning at 2:30 a.m.  Two more Groups finish with their Games at 2 (they're playing right as I am typing this up) and 5 this/Monday morning.  Tuesday's Group-enders are at 2 (the U. S. plays Portugal) and 6, Wednesday's are 2 and 5, and Thursday has the last pair of Matches for Group H that kick off at 5.

And I'm thinking: Why don't I go out somewhere and watch them?  I work this week at The Fourth Department, so I have to report at 8.  I could find a bar that it'll be open early enough.  The 6 o'clock Matches aren't too taxing; I wake up at 5, maybe cut out just before the Matches end and get to work on time.  And I can watch all of the 5 o'clock Matches without leaving early.  I'll have to find a bar.  The Black Hart said they wouldn't be open for Group Matches if they are on at odd times and the Match doesn't involve the U.S., but they will be open later this morning for Canada-Australia (and also, presumably, Nigeria-Ireland).  So, if they stay open for other Matches this week, why not?  I mean, YOLO, right?  I did watch all four Men's World Cup Matches at the Black Hart that one day, and I am pretty damn proud of myself.

Well, here are the downsides:

• The Black Hart might not be open;
• While I could get up early for the 5 and 6 o'clock Matches, I am saying up for the 2 o'clock Matches.  I can stay up past 2, no problem.  But can I stay up all night, watch Doubleheaders, then go to work?  Probably not.  And I nor my body are keen on going to bed early;
• I could fall asleep at work.  I have to tell you all that I haven't gotten any "re-education" at work yet for staying late in The Fourth Department.  I was able to get out basically after eight hours Thursday and Friday, so I hope that forestalls any intervention planned by my boss.  But I feel as though I am still in a tenuous position, and if he catches me slumped over my keyboard because I woke up at 4 in the morning to watch some soccer, I'm afraid he'll be all up in my business until I work only 40 hours a week.
• And, finally, there are my parents.  If they weren't here, I would probably do it, at least for one morning.  But I don't want to wake up and sneak out at 4:30 or 5:30 a.m., then have them ask why I am leaving so early for work.

So, although I want to be a Women's World Cup-watching warrior, it probably won't happen.  Oh, well.

Changes Coming To Lyndale, Big Changes

Just went to Caffetto to go through my receipts.  Hadn't been there in a couple weeks.  It was largely empty, which meant I could find a table, thank God.  There were times when I couldn't, and though I appreciate Caffetto having good business, that meant I couldn't find a table.  Caffetto is more a winter place than a summer place, though, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised I had a place all to myself.

To park, I nowadays park out on the street, about a block away.  It's free, although I park on Lyndale, which gets plenty busy.  The bike lane is another buffer from all the cars that whizz by, but I still am kind of scared that a car will hit me.  Also, it ain't the safest place.  I try to go there in the nighttime, which is often the right time to go down there and work on my computer, but there is an underlying level of unsavoriness which keeps my antennae up -- well, that and all the traffic.  And maybe trying to find a spot at the coffeeshop, which is more of nighttime place than a daytime place.

That might be changing, however.  The place I park in front of had been a uniform store, but it closed down (I want to say) about a year ago, maybe more.  But the property has been bought by this restaurant and business called Baba's Hummus.  I first heard of them during the 2021 Minnesota State Fair.  They were a new vendor there, and their Chili Baba was The Best New Food Of The Fair that year.  And they have redone that store to where it is about ready to open.  I hadn't been at Caffetto, or that area of Lyndale, in about ... oh, I want to say a month, maybe three weeks.  But the last I went to have coffee there, it was still a boarded-up dump.  I don't know how they did it, or how quickly or well, but it's a brand-spanking new restaurant and market.  So much so that I'm now scared I won't be able to park there anymore.  And then I won't be able to hang out at The Best Coffeeshop In The Twin Cities.

The place's grand opening, which was initially planned for the summer, then delayed to the fall, has now been brought back up to Saturday.  I will go ... to see if I can park where I usually park.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Lynx (Last Week: -2).  I portended black Days for the Lynx this screening Week as they faced two good teams (and one real good).  What do I know: They clipped Washington at Target by five Wednesday, then, in a Friday Night Game on ION, the squad went to New York City (Brooklyn, to be specific) and defeated supposed Superteam The New York Liberty (although Courtney Vandersloot did not play due to "load management") by five.  More amazing: Napheesa Collier did not play because she rolled her ankle.  (Rachel Banham was out injured as well.)  If I knew they would own the Libs, I would've stayed up for it.  Instead, I conked off just after Minnesota took a 22-17 after the First Quarter and woke up to see a Lynx player on the Free Throw Line up by five with 18.3 Seconds left.

And yet ... winning against two good teams (one of them real good) is the worst thing to happen to the organization.  They're now 12-13 in the WNBA.  That's seventh in the league, 2 1/2 Games better than Los Angeles for ninth place and out of the postseason, and there are several clubs below the Lynx who have no plans on making a playoff run.  Meanwhile, Las Vegas is 22-2.  They may go down as The Best Team In WNBA History.  The Lynx won't beat them even if they do somehow make it to the WNBA Finals.  As I have repeatedly said, they are much better off tanking and rolling the dice on getting, say, Paige Bueckers or Caitlin Clark in a Draft that, admittedly, is so loaded they should get someone good picking seventh.  But really, if you can't be champion of a league, it's best to be the worst so that you can get the #1 pick in the Draft.  You really, really don't want to be in the middle, where you're not good enough to be champs but not bad enough to get a good Rookie.  But that's where the Lynx are, and I think they're encased in amber as a member of the rudderless middle.

Then again, they do play three Matches versus the two best squads in the Eastern Conference: A pair at Connecticut this/Sunday afternoon and Tuesday evening, then a Friday night rematch with New York at home.

#-2: Twins (Last Week: -1).  I reserve the right not to feel this way at a later time: At this point of the season, when there are teams so bad that you can tell they're mailing it in, you need to beat them.  Mercilessly.  Sweep them.  If you are of any worth -- if you are trying to prove to yourselves and to your fanbase that you can win it all -- you should be winning everything.  In baseball, winning two-of-three ain't enough.  I truly believe that ... right now.

What I know I will believe till the day I die is that you really shouldn't be losing a series to a team that has lost more than twice as many Games as it has won.  And you sure as shit shouldn't go 2-4 over a Week and be considered a serious team.  But the Twinks have been in kind of a tailspin since completed a sweep of the White Sox Sunday and beating Seattle in 10 Innings (both Games at home) Monday.  The Mariners are, like, Minnesota, bobbing around .500.  The Kansas City Royals, however, are 31-75.  And the Twinks have just lost the series to them in K. C.

I was unfortunate in catching the end of Friday's 8-5 Loss to the Royals in ten.  The Twinks managed to scratch in a Run, but supposed shut-down Closer Jhoan Duran loaded the Bases in the bottom of the Tenth and then coughed up a Game-ending Grand Slam to Bobby Witt, Jr.  And then last/Saturday night, once-solid Bailey Ober got shook down for six Runs in the first three Innings on the way to a 10-7 defeat.  Remind you that the Royals are 31-75.  This brings up a fear that I had two weeks ago and suddenly didn't have a week ago, a change of mind I should not have done: The pitching, which statistically was so good in the First Half, is cratering in the Second.  The Rotation's ERA since the All-Star break is over 5.  Great.

And yet they still lead the AL Central over Cleveland by 1 1/2 Games.  And they still have a favorable schedule ahead of them, at least on paper.  After finishing up with the Royals, they scoot eastward across Missouri and play vs. the moribund Cardinals for a three-Game set starting Tuesday, then come home for three against the once-flying-high-but-now-faltering Diamondbacks for a trio beginning Friday.  Interestingly, the getaway Match against the Cardinals is Thursday night, not afternoon.  So the Twinks will get in in the early morning and immediately have to go to Target Field to play against a rested D-Backs outfit?  Great.

#-3: United FC (Re-Entry!).  This isn't Major League Soccer play but the Leagues Cup, a five-Year-old tournament (only in its third true edition) that MLS is totally trying to make into a thing.  Don't know if it's going to work.  I question the motivation of the Liga MX clubs, who had to start their season June 30 through July 3, a mere Month after the previous season ended, because of it.  Plus all these Matches are in the United States.  It can be the designated home team all it wants, the home crowd likely will be against them.

That's what I gleaned seeing the Loons demolish Puebla, 4-0, Sunday.  (Aside: I would have loved to have bought a Puebla jersey after they lost.  It's like a souvenir!)  Bongokuhle Hlongwane and Emanuel Reynoso both braced.  Technically, MNUFC were the road team, which was weird.  Also, since MLS is treating this these Games as neutral-site Games, both teams get to have their Goal song played when they score.  Puebla scored late, but they had their Goal overturned on VAR.  So we Loons fans got the best of both worlds: We got to hear the Goal music of a team from another league in another country who probably will never play here again, and we still get to preserve the Shutout!

But everything fucking came crashing down Thursday night at Allianz vs. the Chicago Fire.  Bongi scored twice, only for the Fire to respond both times.  Then, Chicago took the lead in the 83rd Minute courtesy of a Header off Kei Kamara, who had a cup of coffee with the Loons and who, funny, became another Striker scoring off his former XI.  Right then and there there was a lightning strike within eight miles of the stadium, and so they had to delay the Match, and I couldn't fucking stomach seeing the end of another blown lead (actually two of them) because I knew they were gonna lose -- and they did, 3-2.

Like I said last Week, I didn't know if I was going to cover Minnesota United's exploits in this tournament.  I decided to revert to what I usually revert to: I won't talk about the Wins but will talk about the Losses.  And since they lost in choking fashion, well, I just had to slide the Loons to the basement of the survey.  Good news, if it can be called that: They say the MNUFC has already advanced to the Knockout Round.  We'll see who they face, and where, Tuesday, I think.

Party Fouls

Will be going to this big event soon.  I won't say that it's a disaster, but already one big thing has come up that I don't like and have to admit some fault in: A couple people e-mailed me over the past couple days if they can come.  They do this even though 1) I have given them a few e-mail warnings over the past couple months and 2) registration is already over.  These two people are lovely, but I don't know how much attention they've been paying to the lead-up to this event.  From what they are telling me, they don't know, for example, that there is now an admission fee for this party.

With that being said, these two people reached out immediately after I e-mailed my group, which was Wednesday.  I finally checked e-mails just now.  If I were more diligent, I would have been able to answer their questions immediately after they asked me.  I regret not doing my part.  In an effort to prevent that, I am trying to see if I have set up notifications for that particular e-mail account.  What would also help is if my alma mater specifically told registrants the deadline to sign up.

So I stonewalled one person who wanted to come.  Another person still wants to come, the day of.  I don't know what to do with her, so I gave her the e-mail of someone in the alma mater.  It would be kind of a disaster if the hosts (who really are in charge) are overwhelmed with people they didn't expect to be there.  I don't know what to do if you decide to come to this party the day of the party.  I'm not in charge of it anymore.  I volunteered to help, and this is what happens.  I have to learn my lesson next time.  But as much as I want to help, if I can't decide things on my own -- and I no longer have any decision-making power with these events -- what I am volunteering for?

Add all that that there will be scant few people I know there (probably a result of the attendance fee); that I'm going to a brand-new address I've never been to before; that I'm going to a city I've never been to before; that the party is going to be three hours which seems very long; and I will sheepishly ask people I have not met if I can take pictures of them for our social media ... and, well, I am not going into this with the best frame of mind.  I am expecting the worst, not going to lie.

Addendum To: Political Fundraising Is Costing Me My Dream Gigs

Yeah, so I haven't heard back from the production about working the week of the Gopher Game.  I think they found someone because it took me a week and a half to reply back to them.

One saving grace, which I noticed at work: In my position in The Fourth Department I have to e-mail a lot of people.  Well, I got out-of-office e-mails from, like, four people.  That's never happened before.  It makes me think that a lot of people decided to leave work early this week and maybe come back Monday, or more like Tuesday.  Could that be the case here?  Possibly.  But it could also be wishful thinking.

(shrug)

Political Fundraising Is Costing Me My Dream Gigs

This may be a pipe dream, and so holding onto it may be increasingly pathetic, but I still want to be a sportscaster one day.  No, I'm not doing much to turn that dream into a reality.  What I do do is remain on the periphery.  I still get jobs helping around production trucks, mainly for Vikings Games but I have done the Twins, Golden Gopher football, and the Wild.  It makes me think I haven't completely wasted my journalism degree.  And maybe, just maybe, if I hang around and prove my worth, maybe I can latch onto something permanent.  But like I said, I'm not going out there and grabbing the opportunity by the horns.  No, I'm waiting for someone to ask me out of the blue, "Hey -- have you ever thought about doing this full-time?"

As such I am far from full-time now.  I am at-will.  I can be fired for any reason and for no reason.  And I don't have to be hired back, either.  Now, I have been hired for ... golly, I think it'll be two decades this upcoming fall, and I like to think it's because I'm a good person and a hard worker.  But I'm under no illusions that it could all be taken away without a trace.  I would be totally heartbroken.  But that is how the job, or the gig, is right now.

Traditionally, I have been asked if I can work through e-mail.  Some time before the event -- for big ones it'll be months in advance, but other times I've been asked the week of -- I get an e-mail asking if I am available to work a Game, or several days leading up to the Game.  I usually say yes.  In fact, there has been only two times where I have told the production team I cannot work for them ... and now that I think about it, both assignments I had to miss because I was on a big vacation that centered around my sister: I missed a Twins Game many, many years ago (which may have been the last one I was offered until I worked on back in September) to attend my sister's destination wedding in Siena; and I missed the Vikings' epic comeback Win over Indianapolis back in mid-December for a family vacation to Hawai'i centered around my sister's doctorate graduation.

I have, thankfully, been asked back to work.  Not to say I think ill of them, but my paranoid side always thinks that if I reject them once, they may not feel the obligation to reach out to me again.  But they have despite me telling them no.  Would they continue to reach out if I don't say anything to them at all?

---

I've gotten a bit more politically active after Trump and the Republicans cheated their way to winning power in 2016 (and they did, don't lie, they did, shut up).  After that I stepped up my ... well, I really shouldn't say activism, but I put my money where my mouth is by giving cash to Democrats and Minnesota members of the Democrat-Farmer-Labor (DFL) party.  Citizens United should still be banned, but until we can ban it, we have to use it, I'm afraid.

The downside to willingly handing over money to politicians who need money in order to advertise in order to win and gain or hold onto power is that they bombard you, incessantly, with political appeals.  I have gotten so many of these goddamn things, and now, most of them are from campaigns and people I did not give money too.  Once you donate, you get put on a list, and these campaigns sell those lists to other like-minded politicians (I'll never get a missive from a Republican, thank God) because frequently, that's the only way they keep making money.  Then those fucking people bombard me with political appeals.  I get them by the hundreds each day.  Still.  Even though this isn't an election year.  One night, when I was tired, I decided not to check my e-mail.  That stretched to several nights in a row, and when I finally got around to checking my e-mail, I had a thousand unread ones.  And then I got caught up with too much stuff and yadda-yadda-yadda, I now have 40,000+ unread e-mails on my main e-mail account.  I have an older e-mail account that has, oh, God knows how much.  I am now years behind on both, and as much as I try to unsubscribe, I'm sure at least 85% of the e-mails I get nowadays are from politicians trying to hit me up for money.

I should sit down and go through them.  I really should just delete them all.  But most of the time I'm so distracted with other things that I let it metastasize, and when I do confront my inbox, my eyes glaze over.  There's a fucking blizzard of these appeals, and it's gotten hard, pretty fuckin' hard, to find the non-spammy e-mails ... such as the ones from the productions asking me if I want to work for them.

I knew this was going to happen.  But I wasn't diligent enough.  The first time I missed reading an offer to work was for a Wild Game late last year.  This one was offered via text.  Hey, did you know that when you give money to a campaign, not only do you give them permission to e-mail you to kingdom come, you give them permission to text you to kingdom come as well?  They're not as bad as the e-mails; at worst I get about a dozen a day, and many of them seem to come from the same "phone number," so any new messages from that same source is collated together and presented to me as just one long series of texts from the same "people."  But there still are so many that I ignore them.  I did not see a text from a crew person asking me to do this Wild Game.  I found it months later when I was going back through months-old texts from politicians that I couldn't be bothered to deal with (the e-mails, not the politicians, although they're also one and the same) at the time.  I profusely apologized for not getting back to her.  But I haven't been asked to do a Wild Game since.

I have finally gotten around to doing quick searches that will filter through only any e-mails that have the name of the league and "Minnesota" on them, thereby increasing the chances that I will see only offers to work.  And I found one either yesterday or earlier this week.  Unfortunately, it was for a Gopher football Game back in November.  I didn't see it for eight months.  I want to e-mail the person and apologize to her, but that would be so goddamn awkward that I don't want to jeopardize future employment with the network she works for.  

So just now I did those searches again, and I got another one.  It was for the Golden Gopher football team's season opener against Nebraska.  It's on the Thursday just before Labor Day, just like Minnesota's season opener in 2021 vs. Ohio St.  I was able to work the several days leading up to it.  Back-breaking work, but the money was too good to pass up.  And beyond that, I used my paid time off at work to work the Gopher production.  I was double-dipping.  And I have few regrets.

I thought that I could be offered a similar position this year.  I waited and waited, but I hadn't heard anything.  I believe I was asked a month before that Game against the Buckeyes, and so that was the reason I did a search in my inbox just now.  And wouldn't you know it, I saw that e-mail, unread, from Wednesday, received around noon.  I e-mailed the person back -- oh, around 11 p.m. last/Thursday night.  That's a gap of a day and a half.  That previous Gophers football gig from two years ago?  Someone e-mailed me late at night, and I responded overnight, around four hours later.  I have lost jobs to people who responded to the crewer faster than me.  I hate that, and I directly blame my tardiness in finding and responding to those e-mails on the firehose of campaign donation appeals.  If they weren't there, I would have seen that e-mail faster than I did.  Simple as that.

So I e-mailed the person saying yes, I am available and interested in working.  I didn't apologize for essentially ghosting her.  But I would if it ensured me this job.  But this person had a whole day and a half to find someone else.  Pray that I still get to work this gig.  I need to make some fucking money, man.

It's Getting Dangerously Hot Out Here

I think we're moving through the hottest stretch of weather we've had this summer, or at least the second-hottest.  Heat indices through 100 -- not as bad as places in the South and West that have suffered under this "heat dome" phenomenon, but that climate change-triggered air is moving this way.

It's not great for taking a nap in the car.  Tried yesterday at work, but I don't think I fell asleep.  Since it's going to be hotter today, the chances that I can get a cat nap in today are even worse than they were yesterday.  Which means I should head to bed real soon.

Going to a movie in this heat, like I did last/Wednesday night (saw the latest Mission Impossible ... great set pieces, but I don't quite get the plot, so I don't know how this flick is getting universal acclaim)?  Great idea.  Going to a soccer Match, like I will tomorrow/Thursday night, in the middle of a Heat Warning?  Not a great idea.

I feel as though when it's really hot outside, it gets dangerous.  I don't just mean that people may suffer from heat stroke.  I parked at a Kwik Trip so I could eat a Subway (concession prices are just too expensive now), and a few parking spots to my left I saw an SUV with its hood popped open and its passenger seat crammed with, supposedly, the driver's possessions.  Guess is he doesn't have a place to rest his or her head, and so he sleeps in the car, but now the car is giving him or her trouble.  It's a lot better at night, but when the thing you rely on for both freedom and shelter is giving you problems, the hot weather seems to make it much worse.  There were a lot of people crawling around, too.  It's a summer night, around 10:30, but the heat makes people do dumb things, violent things.  Maybe the guy whose car conked off was going to lose it and shoot people.  Hell if I know, it's America.

The fever is supposed to break tomorrow/Friday.  The weekend is supposed to be gorgeous, which is great because my alumni club is having a huge event Saturday afternoon.  Just need to survive the heat today.

They're Leaving ... Soon

OK, to be honest, neither my boss nor my supervisor "came down" on me for my work yesterday/Tuesday.  Still could, though, especially since I stayed an hour over.  But until I have, like, actual news to share with you on that front, I should give my drama (at least on that) a rest.

Uh, in the meantime, I am going to reveal that my parents have told me they are leaving the house ... in a couple months.  I haven't kept track of how long they summer here and when they leave, but it feels as though they are usually gone by Labor Weekend.  It doesn't seem they are doing that this time around.  Which is fine; again, they are still in good health, so any day they are free to go wherever they want on their own is a blessed day for all of us.  And like I said, it's good to have them around, even when I sometimes wish to have the whole house to myself.

But since they're here now, I can't feel like I can, say, stay out after work five days a week if I want, or, for this particular summer, leave and watch a Women's World Cup Match at midnight or 2 in the morning (this is all contingent on a bar willing to be open then; there were many more pubs open for the men's World Cup last Year in another example of sexism, and I say that even accounting for the awful Game start times because the WWC is being held in Australia and New Zealand).  I also feel as if I need to be sneakier when it comes to buying things.  For example, there is a laptop pillow (you use it if you want to work on your laptop on your bed, like I'm doing now while blog posting this) I'm thinking of buying, but I'm not going to if my folks are going to take the package that's left at the front door and bring it into my bedroom because Mother will start asking questions as to why am I buying this stuff.

On the other hand, at least I have clarity as to how long they'll be here.  I also want to purchase a USWNT soccer jersey.  It's probably best I buy it online, but I want to purchase it through Nike, which I think will deliver it directly to my house.  That would mean that package will be found by my folks and that will mean Mother will start asking, "What's this?" but I really want to buy and wear it during the Women's World Cup, so that will be something I will just have to bite the bullet on.  To the good, I know that I have at least a month of dinners waiting for me, and that will be money I don't have to spend eating out.  To the bad, I will need to wait at least a month before I bring my whore girlfriends here to touch my naked body.  But at least I know when.

I won't count the days.  But I will prepare.  And the day they leave will be a day I have mixed feelings ... like I usually have, with nearly all things.

Not Starting Off This "Work Faster" Plan On The Right Foot, And I Don't Give A Fuck

I am always prepared for the worst at the start of the workweek, but yesterday/Monday was, I swear, the most work I had in The Fourth Department.  It's a Monday, so it's going to be busy with stuff over the weekend (and I keep telling my boss that of the five days of the workweek, I most likely will be staying late the longest and the most often on Mondays).  But yesterday, for some damn reason, the forms and the crap just kept coming, and coming, and coming.  So did the weird stuff, the "Oh, this isn't ours!" or "Hey, I needed to call you because I don't understand. ..."

What happened was something that is, if I am right, unprecedented: I left after ten hours at work with stuff I still needed to do.  This isn't like my first weeks back there figuring stuff out.  I know what to do now, but I didn't have time to do it ... well, maybe more like I didn't want to stay there for half the day.  At any rate, I left stuff there that I will have to pick up this/Tuesday morning.  No easing into the day for me, no sir.

And considering that this week I am supposed to start working faster so as not to rack up overtime, going my self-determined maximum of ten hours the first day probably won't look good in my boss's eyes.  And you know what?  I guess I don't give a fuck anymore.  I busted my ass back there yesterday.  I tried keeping up, but the lab kept giving me stuff, and there were answers that weren't straightforward, and I had to deal with all of that shit, because that is what I am supposed to do.  Sorry to sound like a broken record, but I really don't want to be back there more than I have to each day, but I want to do a good job.  I want to do my work correctly and completely, and then I'll worry about speed.  I think that's the right way to go, and the worst case scenario of what usually happens when I do things the right way happened yesterday.  It is what it is.  You want me to do a shitty job instead?

And I have been trying to tiptoe around this particular issue, but maybe I need to be a bit more direct.  I cannot even frickin' fathom how the two other people who work in that position can face the workload I got yesterday, or any typical Monday, or a typical day period, and get through it all in eight hours.  I don't believe it -- unless they're cutting corners or not paying attention to detail or doing things I was taught not to look past.  I am trying back there.  Goddammit, I am trying back there.  But if my boss has determined that those two can do the job in eight hours that I "have trouble" doing in ten ... well, shit, maybe he needs to find someone else to do the job.

The only upside to all my frustration yesterday is that neither my boss nor my supervisor were at work.  I don't know if I could work through everything I worked through and also dealt with their prying eyes and their judgement.  But both of them certainly will be at work today/Tuesday, and my boss will fucking look at my timecard and see ten full hours and figuratively throw up his hands.  And when he or my supe starts implementing this stupid fucking "plan" while I probably am playing catch-up with the bullshit I had to leave yesterday, I will literally throw up my hands -- and maybe throw some other things, too.  I know what he's going to say, and I know what he's about to do this week, and I cannot take how he wants me to now work back there as anything less than an attack on my character.  I haven't done one goddamn thing wrong, but he thinks I have, and I resent that, I truly do.

The Week Where I Get My Manhood Fuckin' Taken From Me

So I sent that e-mail to my boss, right?  Well, my boss replied to me as soon as he got in that Thursday morning and I read the goddamn thing as soon as I got in an hour later than he got in.  You know what he said?  "Good -- I'm gonna put you on a plan!"  And he wrote down a list of benchmarks of decreasing amounts of overtime starting this week.  Fuck.

He has never done something like this, specifically write up a plan to fix something that he says I do wrong.  This is very micro-managing of him, and the fact that he is micro-managing me now really upsets me.  More than that, I feel as attacked -- no, more so -- now with this "plan" than I did with his initial e-mail dressing me down for just doing my work.  Because I am doing my work -- to the best of my ability, and yet as fast as I can do it while paying attention to detail and trying not to screw it up.  It's impossible on most days not to go over eight hours.  I don't know how the other two do it, but if they are finishing within eight hours, they may not (and again, I mean no disrespect) do it as well as I do.  I take pride in my work, and that takes time.  Never more time than need be, but many times it takes more than a typical day.  And my boss is attacking me for it, and thinking it all can be done in a way that doesn't force the company to pay me OT for my honest work.

I think, deep down, what I hate most about this stems from the first step in implementing this "plan": My supervisor is supposed to talk to me about what I can do to shorten my day.  She is the one who taught me everything I know in The Fourth Department, and I still go to her when I have questions I can't answer, which on some days is more than once.  I think I follow what she has taught me.  Anything else is a matter of style and does not, in any way, lengthen my time at work.  So what else can she teach me?  And is there really anything I have forgotten that she needs to re-train me in?  At the risk of sounding arrogant, I say no.  But she is still, at the direction of her/our boss, going to nitpick over my approach and routine and style, and that pisses me off the most.  As long as the work gets done, I don't think anyone has the right to leer over my shoulder and criticize me for how I do it.  And anything she does call me out on I think will really upset me.  It's a "back off, leave me alone" type of deal.  I hope I don't lash out at her, but I think that's going to happen, and now I have to watch my temper at someone who is also just doing her job over something over which I already feel very defensive.

So I will have to deal with that bullshit.  In the meantime, my boss tossed out the possibility that there just may be work that I don't have to do at the end of the day.  I find it irresponsible to just leave work because I'm approaching eight hours.  The information needs to be asked for, and once it's given, it needs to be sent to the lab, posthaste.  There are clients who want to know what's going on, and that's money.  I'm making sure they're happy.  I'm doing my job.  Leaving it for the next day will not make those clients happy.  Moreover, knowing the pile of work that comes in every day, work that carries over from the previous day pushes the work that comes in the morning to the afternoon, and the work that comes in the afternoon gets pushed to the next day.  Again, if this is not a problem with the other two, well ... maybe they're better at this shit than I am.  Maybe I need to find another line of work.  Because fuck knows why I need to be subjected to this humiliation I'm about to walk into.

God, I fucking hate this job.

Expenses Without Receipts

Damn, it's been a long time.  Starting from Saturday, July 22:

• Diamonds Coffee Shoppe charges a fee for credit card charges now, so I used cash for the Mediterranean salad and the black cherry "bomb" cold brew.  With tip: $18.95.
• Went to the Dream Creamery (or, as I like to say it, the Dreamery).  Got that root beer float just before it started to really storm.  I brought my Lactase just in case the bug to get some ice cream hit me.  I took it just as I started to drink the root beer.  And I don't feel like taking a crap.  Maybe it worked ... or, maybe the root beer had something to do with me avoiding getting any lactose intolerance this time.  Either way, with tip, I paid (ETA this EWR August 13 at 2:06 p.m. -- oopsie!): $12.88.
• And we go back to Sunday, July 16, where I attended the second Open Streets of the year, along Glenwood Avenue just west of downtown Minneapolis.  I am not familiar with that part of town at all.  I have gone to or around Glenwood only twice: Last year to see Jules And Jim at Alliance Francaise, and to the impound lot to retrieve my car.  I appreciate the opportunity for my eyes to be opened to that area.  But the main thing I noticed about Glenwood compared to the first Open Streets at East Lake Street is that unlike East Lake Street, which is a business thoroughfare with a lot of restaurants I wanted to go into (almost all of them Mexican), Glenwood is largely residential.  I go to Open Streets because the street festival opens my eyes to what is permanently there.  I really want to go back to East Lake to get some birria tacos.  On the other hand, there isn't a whole lot of sights to see in Glenwood.  I hope it's a lovely part of town, but it (hopefully) is a quiet part of town, and therefore there isn't much of a reason for some guy from the north suburbs to visit.  It also seemed a bit disorganized.  The festival stretched way out west to a part of the Glenwood that was completely cut off.  There were three food trucks, a neighborhood garden, and no people.  The police that manned that end of Open Streets suggested to the three trucks to move eastward closer to the traffic, and I think all three eventually agreed.  But I got a chicken shish kebab with jollof rice at this tent offering African cuisine.  With it didn't take longer than 20 minutes to get it, but it was nice, especially considering it cost me just: $5.
• I took part in a survey by some department at the U. who was there.  I think it had something to do with urban planning and redesigning livable areas.  Hadn't seen a two-dollar bill in some time, so the one I have, I think I will keep.  And Infusion of: $2.
• On my way out I was thirsty from this Mexican lager I got, so I shelled out some money for a glass of lemonade from some kid.  This kid, he was so enthusiastic and cute ... he offered me a free hula-hoop lesson!  And I was kind of embarrassed because I don't want to be showing strangers how I wiggle my forty-something hips, plus there were people videotaping the festival and I didn't want to get caught, and I was leaving.  But I feel bad turning down a request for a boisterous kid, dangit.  Cost of the lemonade: $1.50.
• OK, we now go all the way back to Monday, July 3, where, before seeing Bullitt at The Heights, I went to the Dairy Queen right next door to eat a chili cheese dog: $3.95.
• And I used cash for the ticket and tips to concession stand and the organist, a total of: $14.
• Alright, let's go all the way back to Thursday, June 22, when I had to find a goddamn parking spot in downtown St. Paul to see ********a.  She never told me parking was going to be tight.  But she came out and helped me park, and after she rubbed me down while I was naked (she brushed her fingers on my dick when she was massaging my groin), she went out and helped me get out of my parking spot without hitting the cars in front of and behind me.  I was stressed as fuck over that, but she got me out.  I love her, and I love her for charging me only: $100.
• To Sunday, the 11th, which was Open Streets East Lake Street.  I researched that there are a lot of taco shops on this strip, and I researched on an article in the Star Tribune about The Best Places For Tacos In The Twin Cities and wrote down both the East Lake spots and what to buy in each.  And yet I didn't think I had the Post-It note on which I wrote those recommendations with me when I went.  But I did, and thank God I found it just as I was about to leave Taqueria El Primo.  Unfortunately, I already had a pollo taco there (not recommended) and was already full from the taco and pizza I already had.  Still, there was a reason I wrote these things down, so I marched up to the counter and ordered Round 2, a taco al pastor and a carne asada taco (both recommended).  And I bought a Corona Familiar because I saw into the cooler behind the counter a bottle that looked like a Corona but not quite.  I'm not a beer connoisseur, but that Corona Familiar tasted real good.  With tip: $16.19.
• Oh, and paid cash for the pollo taco, too.  With tip: $4.78.
• Monday, June 5 ... went to the Heights after work to see The Rules Of The Game.  Hey, I knew going in I probably wasn't going to dig the rhythms of old movies, and moreso old French ones.  And besides the ahead-of-its-time camerawork, I don't really see the hype of how this is a classic.  But I'm glad I went to see for myself.  Popcorn and tips for the concession stand and for the organist equals: $8.
• No we're going way back -- to Saturday, May 20.  That day I went to Target to return some ant traps.  I think I was at work when I saw this colony of ants march up to and devour this fatty crumb of food someone was careless enough to leave on the floor.  There are few things creepier than a bunch of ants converging on food, so I went to Target one day to buy these ant traps as recommended by Wirecutter in case I needed them.  Well, I've seen these ants around the house a couple times, but not recently, so once my panic subsided, I realized, "Wait, why did I buy these?"  I think I can wait until I need them before I buy them -- hopefully.  Anyway, I was told that I get a nickel back for the nickel I paid for when I bought the ant trap.  I customarily take a nickel discount because I say I bring my own bag.  So maybe I took a bag this time, or maybe the customer service person was wrong.  Either way, I got an Infusion of: 5 cents.
• Later that day I went to the Black Hart to see a MNUFC road Match with my fellow Loons.  They run a special for such events: Fulton on tap for five bucks.  It's a typical hoppy local craft beer, but I support local.  With tip: $6.
• Then, after the Match was over, these two people came into the back room, where we're at.  The woman opened up this small, velcro pouch and offered up a bevy of Mexican food (tacos, enchiladas, quesadillas) wrapped up in individual pouches.  I didn't think the Black Hart allowed that, to be honest.  But you know, if they don't mind, I don't mind.  And the food seemed really prepared.  So I got a burrito.  And it tasted good.  Cost: $5.

You know, I say I need to do these more often, but lately I've had other things I wanted to talk about, so I'm giving myself a pass here, even if the last EWR I did was two months ago.

At any rate, I am good through Saturday the 22nd.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Twins (Last Week: -1).  The schedule coming out of the break is soft, so if the Twins were going to re-established themselves and try to put their Division away, it should start now.  So far, so good: A 5-2 screening Week, which began with a Sunday victory over the soon-to-be Bastard Oakland Athletics that completed a road sweep, continued with a four-Game split at Seattle, and ended with taking the first two tilts of a three-Game series at Target Field over the Chicago White Sox.

Last/Saturday night's 3-2 Win might be emblematic of how they'll need to win contests from here on out.  Christian Vazquez and Michael Taylor, the 8 and 9 hitters in the Lineup, managed back-to-back hits for the Game-tying and Game-winning Runs in the bottom of the Seventh Inning, and the Bullpen stepped in from the top of the Seventh to shut the door.  (Apparently Jhoan Duran is now the Closer because he came into the Game with entrance music and the Target Field lights going off in intricate choreography.  I thought Edwin Diaz has the "greatest" entrance music in Major League Baseball, but he's with the Mets, and the Mets are mediocre right now.)  The Rotation hasn't yet regressed to the mean, and in fact it's still leading the league in many, many categories.  Maybe the starters can hold up after all.

Don't look now, but Minnesota is now four Games above .500, although they're only two Games ahead of Cleveland, which also seems to have right themselves after being swept in Texas last weekend.  Minnesota will continue to feast, however, on the pushovers in baseball; after going for the sweep over the Pale Hose, they'll host the Mariners for three beginning Monday, then travel to Kansas City (fighting off the A's for Worst Record In MLB) for a trio starting Friday.

#-2: Lynx (Last Week: -3).  Started off their second half by losing in Atlanta by nine Tuesday, nipping Los Angeles by three at Target Center Thursday (thereby completing a four-Game season sweep), then getting housed by Las Vegas (also at home) last/Saturday night by 17.  At 10-13 they're proving they're not a great or even average team, but they only have the seventh-worst record in the league.  They're 2 1/2 Games better than the Sparks for ninth place.  They might not be able to help not getting into the playoffs, where they're sure to be swept in their First Round matchup.

I still believe they're better served missing out in the postseason entirely, and the upcoming part of the schedule will help them circle the drain again.  They host Washington Wednesday, then visit Eastern Conference-leading New York Friday.

The Dirty Soap

So it was, I think, last Saturday where I woke up, went to the bathroom, and saw a bar of soap on the soap dish on the tub.  It wasn't new.  It was used -- like, real used.  There were spots of dirt on it, and dust on it, and parts of it were stained in brown for some damn reason.

I'm guessing Father looked at the bar of soap that was there.  It was thin, but it had a few more trips around my body before it disintegrated into nothing.  And yet he thought that I could use another bar of soap.  But this one?

I mean, has anyone seen a dirty bar of soap?  Yeah, I know that soap makes dirty bodies clean, but the soap does that by, you know, sacrificing itself, you know?  You wear away the soap on the sweaty parts of your body in order to make yourself clean.  That's how a bar of soap gets smaller.  But when you use a bar of soap, you never see the bar get dirty, right?  Well, I guess if you had your hands in the dirt after gardening or in oil and grease over working on your car, that stuff will get onto the bar.  But this is different, man, you should've seen it.  It was real damn dirty.  And when I used it, I swear I got a sliver.  How in the hell do you get a sliver holding a bar of soap?

And yeah, I'm dancing around the fact that I used it all day.  In any other situation, I would stay the hell away from it like it was the devil.  But Father gave it to me to use.  What was I supposed to do?  What I did was aggressively use the soap in the hopes of wearing away the dirty parts of it.  I used my nails to scrape off parts of the soap with the dirt and the stains.  It still wasn't enough.  I think my hands were clean.  They smelled ... OK.  But I couldn't get over the thought that I cleaned my hands with dirty soap, so I am not being objective, not in the least.

I was going to take a knife and simply cut off the stained parts of the soap and dump those in the trash.  But the next day, it was gone.  Maybe Father put it there by mistake, like he was working in the bathroom and wanted to use that soap, for some reason.  Or maybe he wanted me to use it and could tell I didn't like it.  I'm not lamenting that bar.  I'm still fascinated/haunted by it.  Where was that bar of soap?  What deeply disturbing things did that bar of soap experience?  What did Father to do it?  Did he shove it into a dusty corner because he thought he could clean with it?  Did he try to sand wood with it?  How in the hell did it get so damn dirty?!

I Said What I Said ... Will I Reap The Whirlwind?

So I finally wrote back to my boss about the e-mail he wrote to me.  I actually started it at work Wednesday and I wanted to complete it, but, wouldn't you know, I got swamped with work.

Well, to be honest, I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted to write.  I had stayed up late Tuesday and last (?)/Wednesday night thinking about what I wanted to say.  Like I said, I am having trouble figuring out what to reveal and what to conceal.  Say too much and I'll say something I'll regret.  Say too little and I don't state my case and get some control over the situation, and I allow him to think and maybe act in a way I don't want him to.  And I had to write in a way where I don't antagonize my boss (I still think he's a good guy) while defending to the hilt how I do my job.  By the way, I think he is getting pressure from his bosses about me.  I still think I'm doing all I can, but I wanted to acknowledge what I think he is going through in my name.

I finished this e-mail at work yesterday/Thursday at work.  Took me 20 minutes, and ironically, if I didn't review and finish that e-mail, I think I would have gotten out of work within eight hours.  I think taking an extra 24 hours to think about what I want to write helped.  If I didn't, I probably would have said something I would want to take back.  Then again, if I look back on what I sent, I would probably still change some things.

I also wondered when I should have sent it.  I guess I could have waited until I left for the week today/Friday.  But even assuming I wouldn't see him till Tuesday, which is when his workweek sometimes starts, I didn't want to give the impression that I was trying to duck him.  On the other hand, he's going to see it when he gets to work an hour before I do, and he might not like what I say.  Or, he'll write back with something I don't like.

Yeah, every decision I have made is fraught with peril.  But I don't think just reading it and ignoring it is going to help.  Could things come to a head as soon as I come into work today?  Yes.  But things could come to a head if I don't say anything, either.  I could be damned whatever I do.  So I made the decision to say something.  And since I fired off that e-mail, I can't take much back.  I said what I said.  And I guess I'll face the consequences, whatever they may be.

Should polish my resume, though. ...

The Power Went Out

I was eventually going to either write a pretty long blog post about ... something or do my EWR, which I haven't done in months.  But then, a bit past 1, the damn power went out.  Tried to sleep, couldn't, then finally got my headlamp in order to read this surprisingly fun magazine of ... well, I don't know what you call it, but the editor-in-chief wrote every single article touting something around the Twin Cities and the state of Minnesota, and he did so with a lot of style and even sarcasm.  I probably will keep it.

Finished that at 3.  Tried to sleep again and couldn't.  Finally, at a bit past 4, I heard the beep from our alarm.  I put in a ticket to the local utility saying the power was out, and it said it'll be up by 6:30.  Welp, even though we had no electricity for a little more than three hours and so I missed listening to the kickoff Game of the Women's World Cup (because my modem and thus Internet were out), they are 2 1/2 hours ahead of schedule.  And now I can blog something small, like this.  And now, hopefully, I can finally go to bed.

Yep, My Boss Is Calling Me Out

Yep, what I wrote at the end of this blog post that I was afraid was going to happen did happen at work yesterday/Tuesday.  I got an e-mail from my boss pointing out -- well, maybe more like calling me out -- over working too much overtime.  He said that for some reason, I have been incapable of getting out of The Fourth Department within eight hours while the other two people who work there do.  He is asking me to see how I pace myself, but otherwise I'm not sure what concrete steps he wants to take regarding this.

I will not lie; I feel kind of attacked here.  Like I said before, I am working my ass off back there.  Sure, I sit back a bit and sip my coffee, but I have to, otherwise I'll have a damn heart attack trying to keep up with everything.  I am trying to balance doing the work fast with doing the work right.  And while there are a lot of problems that crop up out of nowhere and throw me for a loop (and, it needs to be said, eat up my time), I think I do my job pretty well.  But that means I stay until the work is done, and usually, there is too much work for me to do within eight hours.  But the work gets done.  That's my job, right?  I'm not sure if my boss, through this e-mail, sees it that way.  And so now I feel defensive about it.

I respect the hell out of the two people who also do that position.  But I find it extremely hard to believe that given the workload they surely face like I do, they get through everything that needs to be done within eight hours.  If the metrics say otherwise, well ... (shrug)

The other main way I feel defensive about this is that I don't know what else to do.  I am not going to cut corners in this position just so I don't do overtime.  But I think my boss thinks I'm just half-assing it back there when the reality is anything but.  I have to work at breakneck speed to get everything done before I have to walk out the door.  Now, as I said, everything is less stressful than when I started out back there because, for the most part, I know what I need to do now.  It's just that, on most days, there is a lot to do.  If he is telling me to push that work till the next day so I leave when I'm supposed to, fine, but that leaves more work for me the next day, and that, quite frankly, is stupid.  But I cannot and will not work any faster than I am doing now because I am busting my ass already.

I wonder if he expects me to reply to his message.  I am guessing that would be the elephant in the room if I don't.  But I think I know better than to lash out and say he's wrong about everything.  Then again, I don't think a milquetoast response represents how I really feel.  So I don't know right now what to reveal and what to conceal.

The only saving grace in this situation, as very unfortunate as it is, is that I might be the only person in the intermediate future who can do this job.  One of the two other people who can work in The Fourth Department is my supervisor, and like I said before, she has to do other things in other places because she's a supervisor.  The only other person who can do this job is not at work for the foreseeable future.  Maybe my boss, who I know is getting pressure over this from his bosses over my overtime -- he said so in the e-mail -- is dreading the probability that I am going to have to be in The Fourth Department for the time being and is seeing the dollar signs he might believe is showing up on my eyeballs like the tumblers on a slot machine.  I will do what I can.  But I already am giving him, and the company, everything I humanly can back there.  I am kind of scared that he's concluded that that's not enough.

I Sleep Different When My Parents Are Home Because ...

Since my folks have come home, when I come home from work (and granted, that's about, oh, three times during the workweek because work keeps me so late I just stay out to eat twice a week), after I eat I immediately retreat into my bedroom and, after scrolling on my cell to decompress, I fall asleep.  Once in a while it's about half an hour.  But usually it's 90 minutes, and sometimes two hours.

Last/Monday night, however, was a bear.  I conked off at around 6 and woke up a bit past 10, just in time to catch the weather report.  I was making up for my lack of sleep that morning.  I may have slept for 90 minutes overnight, but honestly, I don't know if I really fell asleep at all.  (Thank Buddha I fell asleep for lunch.  It was so deep that when my cellphone alarm rang, my whole body jerked up in attention.)  What probably ruined my sleep rhythm was the fact I took a nap between 10:10 and 11 at night.  And that was possibly affected by me not having a nap in the afternoon, which I usually can do during the weekend.  And that, in turn, was affected by me staying up till 5:30 in the morning and sleeping till 11 a.m. -- and that was both on Sunday and Saturday afternoon.  Those four-hour evening naps, by the way, isn't a one-off thing.  I have not done it many times, but I have done it several.

It's ironic, I think, that I am now willy-nilly conking off whenever I want with my parents back living here.  I love sleep.  It could be a hobby for me, no cap.  However, when they're not here, and it's just me in this great, big house, I can't think of too many times where I get a good and proper night's sleep, and I'm sure I don't pull off this biphasic sleep pattern where I pass out in the evening, wake up, then pass out for several hours again before I wake up for work.

Why is that?  Well, if there are no parental units who expect me home, I have a tendency to do what I want ... and that, if I'm being honest with myself, isn't necessarily sleep.  It's going out, it's having drinks at a secret bar, it's eating at fast food places, it's having my dick wanked at a house party, stuff like that.  Moreover, whenever I do make it a night in, I have things I need to do as the sole caretaker of the house -- water the plants, check the mail, call them if any of the mail is important, prepare food, mow the lawn, plow the driveway, etc.  I am on my own when they're not here, so I have to be "on," and that doesn't allow me to relax.

So yeah, hearing my parents yap at each other gets to be too much.  But when they're here, they take care of the house, the meal preparation, the bill paying, the tending to the yards, all of it.  And that means I can relax, and sleep whenever I want for as long as I want.  I am ... safe here with my parents home.  And so I am, well, grateful they make me feel safe.  Please don't tell them I think that, however.

But Is It A Break, Really?

While my schedule for the past, oh, year-plus has been regular (in the sense that I am in The Fourth Department the first half of the week and I am somewhere else the back half ... and come to think of it, I don't remember the last time I worked in My Main Department, but whatever), I have been told that my job requires me to be shifted from one position to another on short notice.  That has been needed lately because of emergencies that have befallen two of my co-workers.

What's going to happen today/Monday is different.  On Saturday, my boss texted me that I won't be working The Fourth Department.  Instead, I'll be in, uh, what I will refer to as The Third Department in the morning and then Filing in the afternoon.  My supervisor is going to fill in for me in The Fourth Department even though she doesn't work Mondays.  Here's the thing: He's not moving me because of any family emergency.  He says I could "use a break."

I need to get the more important issue out of the way here before I write about what I wanted to write about for this blog post.  I guess I could use a break, even though I am almost certain I will be back there at some point, probably this week, maybe as soon as tomorrow/Tuesday.  However, I think this move has something to do with an e-mail from him last week asking why I stayed late in The Fourth Department for one day last week (and by the way, I was in The Fourth Department all of last week because of a my colleague's family emergency).  My boss still is getting pressure for his higher-ups to control costs, and one area of scrutiny is overtime.  Now, I have detailed in several blog posts over the past couple years about how there's just too much damn work for me to get out of there within eight hours.  And I not dragging my ass back there, hell no.  I'm working my ass off, and I can prove that, and I can defend needing to work there until the work gets done because otherwise, the work will get pushed back to the next day, and since there usually is a similar amount of work that next day, that work gets pushed off to the following day, and so on.  Yes, it gets to be stressful.  But now that I know how to do most of the work, I have made my peace with the fact that most days, I'm staying there past eight hours.  I don't mind it.  But I will work late to get the work done -- and I will get paid for it.

So I suspect that instead of being given a break, my boss has told my supervisor to come in and work because then, I work only eight hours.  I cannot and will not believe she gets all the work done in eight hours, especially on a Monday, when the person working that job has to deal with all the work that accumulated over the weekend.  I simply won't believe it.  But she leaves when she's "supposed to."  And I now have to wonder, in the back of my mind, if there is an idea of moving me off The Fourth Department, even though the only other people who could work that job are my supervisor, who has other things she needs to do, and my co-worker, who, frankly, may not be back at work this week.

---

Man, that's a blog post all to itself.  Anyway, I wanted to write about my boss giving me a break.  I don't think it's much of a break.  While I don't mind getting away from The Fourth Department from time to time (and I have talked about this before here on Wailing And Failing), I work best when I know the details of every outstanding form and the information I need to get.  Jumping back in and picking up another person's work always feels like jumping into a car going 100 mph because I need to know what that other person did and as quickly as possible because the new stuff is coming throughout the day.  I may be hyperbolic, but it's how I feel.  And assuming I'm back in The Fourth Department some time this week, I get that feeling back this week.

There's one other thing, however, and I just realized this as I am looking at the clock on my laptop.  If I am not working in The Fourth Department, chances are my shift starts an hour earlier.  And I have realized that waking up at 7 is a hell of a lot better for me than waking up at 6.  It's just an hour, and yet getting to sleep in for an "extra" hour is a psychological boost that may be worth all the crap I have to deal with working The Fourth Department.

Now consider what I am doing now: Staying up and blogging.  I need to get to work an hour earlier than I usually do on a Monday, therefore by staying up right now I am losing an hour of sleep.  And as much as, say, four hours of sleep is still punishing to my body, trust me, getting only three hours of sleep makes me feel even more miserable.  I have gotten used to going into work at 8, and therefore I really, really don't like getting to work at 7.

Which means I should end this blog post, eat the rest of this cake Mother made for the family, pop a Lactase, drink the rest of this milk, and try to fall asleep for 3 1/2 hours before going to work at a position that might change because I'm costing the company too much money.  Awesome!

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Twins (Last Week: -2).  I can't think of a better way to start the second half of a season in which you're scuffling and trying to put away inferior competition in order to sew up a playoff spot than The Oakland Athletics, who, as it was announced about a month ago, will (in all likelihood, because this is not 100% set in stone) be taken from the good people of Oakland and be placed in the furnace known as Las Vegas, which, according to Father, reached 117 yesterday/Saturday.  They have a lease to play in their Coliseum through next year, which they probably will invoke (which means, by the way, I should cancel the flight reservation I made to go there in September and use it instead on a different Southwest trip).  But the new stadium won't be built until, I think, 2027.

Anyway, all this negativity that has surrounded this organization for years reached a head with this move in the middle of this season, and that should be pointed out as the main reason the A's are an MLB-worst 25-69, and why they lost the first two Games of the series with Minnesota in Oaktown.  Granted, they were nail-biters: The Twins were down by a Run until Joey Gallo blasted a two-Run Home Run in the top of the Ninth Inning in Friday's Game, and in last/Saturday night's crazy contest they were tied at seven until Minnesota plated a Run in each of the final three Innings.  But they're still awful.

(Aside: I'm about to say something controversial [that's interesting]: While it isn't fair for the good people of Oakland to lose the Athletics after a half-century, and it is, ultimately this relocation is different from other such relocations such as the Dodgers being taken from Brooklyn or my North Stars being stolen away from Dallas.  The one very important fact: Oakland, respectfully, stole the Athletics from Kansas City.  In fact, the "Athletics" have been moved twice already: They were born The Philadelphia Athletics in 1901, ripped from Philly after the '54 season, and stayed in K. C. from 1955 to 1967, at which point they were snatched from the good people of Kansas City and put in Oakland.  I am afraid to point out that Las Vegas [at least the government is; word has it that no Las Vegan cares about baseball] is doing to Oakland what Oakland did to Kansas City what K. C. did to Philadelphia.  Once a franchise is stolen from the city in which it was born, it might as well be a vagabond outfit.  Sorry, but while I am angered by this move, that anger is measured in comparison to other relocations.

My outrage is partly fueled by the fact that with this move, Oakland will now have no major-league teams to call its own, at least technically.  The Raiders were stolen away to Las Vegas, and the Warriors moved to San Francisco, so one can at least say that organization [which, ironically, was also born and thus really belong to Philadelphia] remains in the Bay Area.  But Oakland will probably cease to be a major-league city.  The psychic damage that will be done will be immense and, I think, far-reaching.)

But this is The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey.  The Twins, who started off Friday a 1/2-Game behind Cleveland, are now 1 1/2-Games ahead of the Guardians because they have lost the first two tilts of their series vs. The Bastard Washington Senators (v.2.0).  A better measurement of how good the Twins really are should come from last Sunday's 15-2 battering at the hands of The Bastard St. Louis Browns, which completed a three-Game sweep at Target Field.  Thank God, once again, that this is flyover country and not the coasts, where franchises actually care about baseball and actively put money into their teams.

Once they finish up this/Sunday afternoon, they'll head to Seattle for three starting tomorrow/Monday, then come home for a trio with the White Sox starting on Friday.  This is a chance for the Twins to, possibly, pad their lead in the Division.

#-2: United FC (Last Week: -3).  Wednesday, while I was concentrating on watching the USMNT struggle and ultimately fall to Panama, of all countries, in the Semifinals of the Gold Cup, the Black Hart was also playing the Loons' Match in Houston.  I picked the wrong Game to watch; MNUFC avenged their Open Cup battering a couple months ago by crushing the Dynamo, 3-0.  (Aside: I thought that the Americans were going to cruise into the final, but Mexico would struggle in the other Semi later in the night against Jamaica.  I was completely wrong, as the Mexicans thrashed the Jamaicans, 3-0.)  

That gave me some hope that opting back in to watching the Match versus LAFC (instead of going to the Nickel Creek concert; here's all the internal drama over that), a club that, despite being in second place and winning at St. Louis mid-Week, was desperately out-of-form as of late.  No dice; the Match ended 1-all.  United FC, once again, had their chances, courtesy of Emanuel Reynoso, to score, especially to start the Game, but they couldn't finish.  Laugh-See, then, capitalized in the 21st Minute, as a moonshot connected with Carlos Vela, who outmuscled and outhustled Michael Boxall for the ball, then swerved around an oncoming Dayne St. Clair to score into the open net.  Three Minutes later, however, a weirdly intricate series of passes in the box, the last of which was a Kervin Arriaga lifter, ended up with Reynoso side-kicking a low shot past the Goalkeeper to tie it up.  And that was that.

Teemu Pukki, the squad's brand-new signing (and latest Striker), actually scored against the Dynamo, but he seemed largely ineffective last/Saturday night.  I saw around Allianz Field a couple people wearing paper birthday hats; as the Pukki signing was streamed, someone (maybe the team's PR department) said the announcement was a "Pukki Party," and so people are wearing hats as a cheeky sign they're supporting the new guy.  I hope it works out, but if last night was any indication, I fear that, once again, the rube hype over another new finisher will vastly outstrip the reality of scoring Goals.

While they didn't technically lose this screening Week, they blew a chance to get back into a postseason birth by not winning.  They sit tenth in the West, albeit a Point behind the Dynamo for the final playoff slot.  And the reason why the Loons sit behind the Twins in this Week's WMNSS is because they will stay sitting in tenth and out of a postseason spot for a month as MLS stops league play to concentrate on the brand-spanking new Leagues Cup, a competition between Major League Soccer ballclubs and squads of Liga MX.  They will play Puebla and Chicago, both at home, next Week.  You know, I haven't thought of whether I should track the XI for the WMNSS or not. ...

#-3: Lynx (Last Week: -1).  Congratulations to Napheesa Collier for dropping 20 and helping Team Breanna Stewart defeat Team A'ja Wilson in last/Saturday night's All-Star Game in Las Vegas.  Now, back to reality: The Jynx came into the All-Star break on the receiving end of a pair of vicious skull-fuckings -- by 24 to The Bastard Utah Starzzz last Sunday and by a franchise-worst 40 to The Bastard Detroit Shock Wednesday.  Both ass-kickings, by the way, were at home.  And that loss to Dallas was the annual day camp Game.  Young girls were watching their heroines getting their brains beaten in.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT LASTING DAMAGE YOU'VE DONE TO THOSE PRECIOUS KIDS BY LOSING SO BADLY?!?!?!

This past Week proved so starkly how Minnesota just ain't gonna win the WNBA Championship this Year.  And yet there are so many teams tanking resetting for bountiful draft next Year (Seattle, Phoenix, probably Chicago, maybe Los Angeles, and by the by, Indiana is The Worst Team In The League, but I think they're trying to win) that the club is going to make the playoffs because they're not bad enough not to.  For example, this screening Week, while busy, starts off with a Game in Atlanta on Tuesday and a home showdown with the Sparks on Thursday.  Those are both winnable.  Saturday they host Las Vegas again.  That one is not winnable.

#-Infinity: Whitecaps (Re-Entry!).  I neglected to write about this story when news of it broke out, out of nowhere, last month.  The Premier Hockey Federation was bought by the Professional Women's Hockey Players' Association with the help of longtime front office executive Stan Kasten and fucking tennis godhead Billie Jean King.  The PHF, apparently, is dead.  And the last moment of its existence apparently will be the Whitecaps giving up the Isobel Cup-losing Goal three Minutes into 3-on-3 Sudden Death Overtime (wondered how the OT lasted that long).

This situation is strange, and the tributaries that flow into its apparent denouement are strange, too.  The PHF (born as the National Women's Hockey League in 2015) soldiered on as The Little League That Could, going from four to five to six to seven teams over the Years.  The 'Caps, born as an independent showcase team, joined in 2018 and won the Isobel Cup in its first season.  But the really good players, the ones you see play in the Olympics, never played in the NWHL/PHF.  I don't really know why, although they unionized as the PWHPA in 2019 and the league is non-union.  The PWHPA teamed up with Kasten, King and that chairman last Year in an effort to form its own league separate from the PHF.  And whenever I heard the players under the PWHPA talk about playing pro hockey full-time, it always seemed as though they were invoking the National Hockey League as a partner, even though the NHL never seemed to reciprocate or even acknowledge that relationship.  It sounded desperate, if not thirsty, for The Best Players In Women's Hockey to try and attract the attention of the male-dominated NHL.  It appeared as if they could have provided an example of independence and female empowerment by just winning a spot in the PHF and showing everybody how fucking good they were.

Little did I, nor a lot of people working in the PHF, know that behind the scenes earlier this Year, the stakeholders of the PHF were willing to sell themselves to the PWHPA and its backstoppers.  The General Manager of the Whitecaps re-signed one of its players, Rookie Forward Natalie Snodgrass, to a two-Year deal Tuesday, June 27.  News of the deal hit two days later.  And under terms of the deal, everybody's contract was immediately voided.  Everyone who worked at the PHF were all out of a job that day -- players and front office people too, including Chi-Yin Tse, 'Caps GM.  The whoring by the league, the suddenness of the news and the out-of-nowhere aspect of the news reminds me of the PGA-LIV merger in golf ... well, except that I don't think the PWHPA et al. ever murdered and dismembered a journalist they didn't like.

So instead of forming its own league (the members of the PWHPA divvied up into four teams that weren't city-based and played over two weekends in Canada in October and November of last Year), the PWHPA instead bought a league it considered itself superior to, then hollowed out all of the people who worked for it so it could move into its host body.  I find all of this shady, if not despicable, and if women's hockey had more of a national following, I think more people would regard this move with a lot more contempt, too.  They may have had non-union issues with the PHF, and thought that this ruthless move ensured they themselves won't lose their jobs like they did when the Canadian Women's Hockey League (CWHL) went belly-up in 2019.  But they essentially fired a bunch of players with this shock merger.  The money people has set up a pool that will dole out severance (as determined by the money people, probably) to all contracted players and even more money for anyone who tries out for the league and fails to get a spot.  If you live in America and are smart, you know not to trust the word of people who have the money.  Not to mention it ain't right to just fire people outright.  I wonder if this "deal" has a Non-Disclosure Agreement attached to it.  If so, there has to be one contracted PHF player willing to break it.  I mean, the money you would be given isn't worth signing the NDA, is it?

Beyond that, I cannot help but see this as bullying.  And I find it depressingly ironic that people I would look to as fighting the good fight have instead went over to the dark side because they can take what they want through power, money, talent and fame.  One of these superior players, Canadian Sarah Nurse, herself was out of a job upon the death of the CWHL.  "We're not celebrating dissolving a league," Nurse is quoted as saying in this Associated Press article.  And yet she, through her union, has dissolved the league.  "Our hearts definitely go out to (the PHF's) players and staff because we know what it's like to have a league fold and get that phone call," Nurse also said.  Really?  Because she was able to take one of their roster spots without needing to earn it on the ice.  And I'm guessing she didn't pick up a phone to spread the news, either.

If I were a PHF'er and saw that quote from Nurse, I would vow to injure her if we ever were playing in the same hockey Game, new league or beer league.  I don't believe she fucking believes her bullshit, and I don't think she cares that she doesn't believe it.  I don't think any of the players in the NWHPA give a shit about any player losing her job in the league.  Look past all of the performative well wishes, their "Chin up, you'll find a job in hockey" bromides; understand that it is shameful to destabilize people's livelihoods in order to guarantee stability in a league that you decided to acquire.  Nurse and them, for all of the wondrous talent they'll now feel free to showcase in their host body, are nothing more than victims turned perpetrators.

(Shame, by the way, has to be flung at Billie Jean King, too.  This trailblazer for women in sport has also okayed women losing their places in sport.  I thought her support for Virginia Slims cigarettes as she helped start a women's tennis association in the seventies was understandable, but I now pair that with this disgusting merger as a disturbing pattern of someone who sees in the taking of dreams of the people she helped allow to dream the full realization of women's liberation.  I shake my head.)

So, what of the Whitecaps?  According to that same article I linked to in the previous paragraph, there will be only six teams when the new league (I'm guessing it'll be called the WNHL -- the Women's National Hockey League ... yoo-hoo, sailor!) starts, presumably next season.  The Twin Cities apparently ain't one of them.  So the Minnesota Whitecaps, a team founded by two hockey dads that sustained itself by essentially being barnstormers, make a deal to home itself in a league, only to be reduced to an asset that will be buried under piles of Intellectual Property papers for the next half-decade as this new league starts up out east.  A dream turned into a line item, hrmph.

Once the news becomes official, I'll write about them again.  But I don't mind starting the obituatry now: RIP, Minnesota Whitecaps.

Ick, Hangover

So yesterday/Friday the workload at work wasn't bad.  But my day was still bad because I spent the first 90 minutes trying to get into my computer.  Shouldn't have made updating my computer the last thing I did before I left Thursday afternoon.  And then I had re-training with my supervisor in the afternoon, and that was another 70 minutes that pushed back the work I normally would have done earlier.  The saving grace of the work was that many of the forms came from the same company.  That means that I could combing my requests for missing information into one e-mail, then scan all the forms for that company at once and send them all at once.  There were seven forms that happened to need to go to the same company.  In essence, that's not seven forms I had to deal with, but only one.

I would have been able to get out in about eight hours if I weren't locked out of my computer and if I didn't have re-training I had to do.  That wasn't enough to get bent out of shape, but my weird day didn't dissuade me from going to the secret bar I wanted to go to, and which I reached a bit before 6:30.  I was afraid that my run of good times was going to end because they inevitably do -- bartender having a bad day, being bothered by some drunk sitting next to me, etc.  And I will say that I didn't have a good sleep for lunch and, combined with getting about three hours of sleep overnight, I was pretty tuckered out.  I was kind of scared the two cocktails I planned on having would amplify my fatigue and get my in trouble on my drive home.

I was alright.  But once I got that second cocktail, which I asked the bartender to make based on what he wants to make, to go with some tasty Korean wings, I felt really good.  The music, which is always great, was spinning this person named Rahill, whose latest album, released in May, is very impressive.  And while I am glad I got there when it wasn't busy, it quickly got packed starting in the 7 o'clock hour, and seeing this good place full of people really puts me in a good mood.  Once again, it was a great night there.

And I got home just fine.  Actually stopped by Sebastian Joe's one the way because I was still on one and getting a regular sundae during the Golden Hour but when the sky was hazy with Canadian wildfire smoke seemed like the right thing to do.  Got home, made sure I pulled my daily Day 7/400% free spin on Zynga Poker, then went to sleep at a bit past 9.

And I woke up at around a quarter to 1, and I had this pounding headache.  I am not unfamiliar with a pounding headache after going to these bars, or even after making one cocktail for myself at home.  I enjoyed my time out, and I would do it again, but this ... well, let's just call it a hangover because it was, this occurrence that always happens is, well, getting kind of old.

Hell At Work And Then ... Not

As bad as The Fourth Department is, I didn't think it would be this bad this week: I pretty much worked my full, self-imposed maximum of ten hours Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  There was a lot of work.  But notably on Tuesday and especially on Wednesday, there was a lot of extracurricular BS that didn't get tied up by the end of the day.  It was, "Hey, can you call these guys and check on a test?" or, "I don't think this form should go to us, sorry!"

That meant that Wednesday and yesterday/Thursday morning, my day immediately started -- and, frankly, immediately went off the rails -- by catching up on the loose ends from the day before.  I have gotten into a routine (that might not be the right word) whereby all of the crush of work I know I have waiting for me at the start of the day I will at least "touch" before I go to lunch.  For that reason -- and also because I want to delay my morning break until after Stephanie Miller, and also I because I am tuckered out in the middle of the afternoon and not the start -- I don't do lunch until six hours after I get into work.  I think a lot of people will see that and say I'm insane.  My supervisor has warned me that my boss will get antsy if he sees me taking lunch that far into my day/that close from the end of my day.  I just don't feel as though I could drop what I'm doing exactly four hours into my shift.  There is a ton of crap I don't get around to until I'm well deep into the day.  Hell, I was catching up on so much old stuff on Tuesday that I didn't get around to doing the new stuff until after I got back from lunch!

It has been a ridiculous week.  If I were still relatively green in this position, I would be freaking out and getting very, very upset with my supervisor, my boss, my company, and especially myself for putting myself through this absurd meatgrinder.  But now I've been at this for a while and some of the work I know how to deal with (but definitely not all; the curveballs I've faced are completely new and foreign to me, and so I have relied on my supervisor to do them, quite frankly), I'm non-plussed.  I'm working late at The Fourth Department, well, forever, or at least until they decide another person will be assigned to do some of the work every day.

Not only was this week stressful because of the weird problems I faced, but also because there were some things I wanted to do in the evening, and the workload in fact jeopardized me doing those things.  On Tuesday I bought a ticket in advance to see Joy Ride (I like the representation, but it's too raunchy for me, sorry) at 8.  I thought that was going to give me enough time, but I worked right up to 6:30, and I promised my parents that I'd be home to eat a late dinner -- which, to be honest, was garbage because Mother made that Buddhist vegetable crap, a whole bowl of which I had to eat.  I needed to slather it in fish sauce to eat all that, and then I had to chew slowly because it was so distasteful.  Got to the movie just in time, thankfully.  And on Wednesday, I was too late to get to the Black Hart to catch the start of the Gold Cup Semifinal between the U. S. and Panama because I was too delayed at work.  If I had only been able to leave eight Minutes earlier. ...

At the beginning of the week I didn't plan on going to one of my favorite secret speakeasies at the end of the week.  I'm still going through money like nobody's business.  But after seeing the clock tick to 5:30 and seeing my co-worker, who gets in an hour after me, leave work before me once again, and feeling my heart pound because I want to watch the beginning of the soccer Match but can't ... well, I gave in and decided Wednesday that I would go to a speakeasy for the first time in months tonight/Friday night.  I deserve it after this week of hell.  And it'd be perfect if I went straight from work to there to grab a drink.  It'd be 7 o'clock -- great way to start my weekend and reward myself for reaching the finish line without worrying about a line of people to get in (at least I think).

But then the damnedest thing happened at work yesterday/Thursday: It was sane and reasonable.  I had work, but a manageable amount.  And most of the loose ends that were lying in wait for me in the morning were resolved throughout the day.  I stayed only an extra 20 minutes.  Now yesterday would have been the day to have planned something in the evening.

But with this psychological burden that lifted off my shoulders and flew far, far away yesterday -- well, the stress I felt I needed to relieve with a stiff drink is gone.  So I ask myself: Do I really need to go to this speakeasy?  Thursday wasn't bad, and although the other three days were terrible, I powered through.  I can't hit the bottle after every rough day, right?  So why not just chill at home?  Why can't that be my reward for reaching the week's finish line?

Nah!  I want to treat myself after Monday through Wednesday.  Plus, I haven't been to a speakeasy in a while, and I want to feel cool again.  Plus, who knows, Friday might be a steaming pile of crap like Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  So a drink for me!

My Psychiatrist Is ... Starting To Be Annoying

I haven't spoken to my therapist in quite a long while, at least a couple months.  I want to.  Really, I do.  But work has been a bear.  Whenever I work at a position other than The Main Department, I don't get out of work before a time where it seems reasonable to have a session with your psychologist, either in-person or (ever since the pandemic began) over the phone.  And I have not been in The Main Department much or at all in the past, oh, several months.  Co-worker absences also necessitate me working in general.  One of my co-workers had emergency surgery and literally is in traction for another month.  And I am in The Fourth Department all this week instead of just Monday and Tuesday because a co-worker has a family emergency spring up.

So I haven't had time to speak to him.  I guess it would be a little frustrating on his end that we do not have a set schedule.  And yet, it has been a little ... concerning to see him react by reaching out to me -- even when I have not scheduled a session with him.

I had a couple days off last week.  (These were planned in advance of my co-worker's surprise surgery, so even though they could have used the manpower, I decided to keep my staycation.)  That was the perfect time to speak with my shrink.  I set something up with his assistant.  We agreed upon a time: Last Thursday at 1.  So, after I ate al fresco at Centro and wound up at Glam Doll, I set up the shades in my car and waited for him to ring in.

And I waited.  And I waited.  I waited about an hour before I decided not to wait any longer.  It's not as if I had concrete plans, but as a general rule, I'm not going to wait for anyone for a long time if we had a set time we would meet.  Hey, I wanted to try Eat Street Crossing.  So I did.  And that's when my psychiatrist called.  Now, I could have just sat there and started talking to him.  I didn't have much to do.  But this is a therapy session, so I don't know if I want to blab my innermost secrets out on a patio, and besides, it gets noisy outdoors.  More than that, I thought I had given him enough time to call.  And I didn't feel obligated to delay any plans I conjured up in my head because he was late, however trivial those plans are.  So I told him I was busy and I'll speak to him later.

Later, turns out, was the next afternoon.  I really do want to talk with him, so I moved an optometrist appointment and exercise around to be at a park Friday at 3.  I think the woods are secluded enough to take in a therapy session over the phone.  But once again, he didn't call.  And as I think I have said from time to time here at WAF, lately he has been rather flighty with calling in at our supposedly-scheduled dates.  I don't understand what's going on.

What really scares and bugs me, however, is that, out of the blue, he called Tuesday afternoon.  I didn't pick up because I was at work.  But I think he knows that I have a daytime job.  I'm not completely convinced he confused Tuesday at 1 with last Thursday at 1.  He is getting up there in age, and I'm afraid I can't rule out cognitive issues.  And if he did know that we didn't schedule a time to talk Tuesday afternoon and just wanted to talk anyway, well, that's quite creepy.  I have spoken about his recent propensity to blur the boundary being doctor and patient.  Calling me up whenever to talk about whatever is a further trespass.  I don't know what to make of it, but I don't like it.

I am still trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.  With no regular time to meet (and we haven't had one really since before the pandemic started), I am not in a position to pass judgement on when my psychotherapist should talk to me, and I don't think I can be too upset that he wants to talk to me when I say that I want to talk to him.  But at the same time, I don't think it's too much to ask to call when I, you know, schedule a call.

So how come he can't call when I want him to, and he does call when I don't want him to?  This has gotten really annoying, to the point where I don't really look forward to speaking with him, at least now.  I am scared that he no longer sees this relationship as a professional one that requires boundaries.  I confide in him, I have told him things I haven't told anybody else, but that doesn't mean I want to shoot the bull whenever I'm bored.  I'm starting to believe he thinks we can, and that I want to.  That's ... not the case.  And now I don't feel like talking to him, about that or, really, anything else, for that matter.

I might expound on this later, but right now I should go to bed because it sucks having only three hours a sleep in the part of the night where you're supposed to be sleeping for more.  My thoughts are so scrambled right now, I don't think I could blog post something that makes sense at all if I extended it beyond, well this. ...

This Is What Happens When I Eat By Myself

Work yesterday/Monday was a grind.  I feel as though I was in the wrong frame of mind going in to work after four days off.  The load of work was not an unprecedented amount, although it was as high as it has gotten.  I just felt as though it was a lot.  And I got out of there at ten hours not quite completing everything I want to do before I leave for the day.

Still, since my parents are home and they're willing to cook something for me, I went straight home for dinner.  What did I get?  Mashed potatoes and shrimp.  It was great.  Really, it was.  So great that I ate 20 shrimp -- and they weren't small.  They were plump.  And deep-fried.  Haven't had shrimp in a long time.  Haven't seen my parents break out a ketchup bottle for dinner in a long, long time.  But I sat at the dining room table, by myself, scrolling through my phone, gobbling up first the potatoes and then having a first serving (by which I mean I sprayed an amount of ketchup on my plate) of shrimp, and then deciding to have a second serving of shrimp.

Big mistake, that second serving; me eating my feelings quickly ended, and my bloated feeling of getting fat kind of rose up from my stomach and slapped in the head and screamed at me, "What the hell are you doing??!!  You're eating too much!!"  And I am, and even as I type this now -- after finishing up a bowl of melons Father cut for me for work after the shrimp, and then putting jelly into the peanut butter sandwich he made for me for work which I actually ate around midnight -- I certainly am feeling the aftereffects of my, uh, bingeing in my stomach.

I am quietly freaking out now because my health screening for my health insurance is coming up.  OK, it's in five weeks.  But I'm still freaking out about it.  They have increased the number of benchmarks you need to get the discount I have gotten on my insurance ever since I started working for my company.  Up to this year you had to just sign a statement saying you don't smoke and fall below a Body Mass Index threshold.  Now, there are three more markers -- one of them is high blood pressure and I don't remember the two others -- and you have to reach three of the five.  I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get the high blood pressure one, and I'm scared as hell that stuffing my face like this is going to cause me to overshoot the other two factors.  And I think it's best to start as soon as possible limiting how much I eat and what to eat, but dammit, I've got my parents at home and they're worried sick that I'm not eating, and I'm worried sick that if I don't eat at home I will displease them.  It would be me if they decide to leave the day after I do this panel.  One final week's worth of dinners at home, one final week of proving I am their son, and I am going to sacrifice potentially an extra $240 to do it.

(Well, there are diversionary options if I don't hit three of the five that still get me that insurance break.  You have to sign up through some fitness coach thing on the work health insurance, but I don't want to do that.  And to be honest, I could be stuffing my face if my parents weren't here, so there's that.)

But this is what happens (sometimes) when I eat by myself.  I can't eat just one shrimp.  I have to eat 20.  And I have to feel it for the next 24 hours ... or five weeks.