Changing Plans (Stripper, Stillwater)

So right around this time I was supposed to see *****y at her cottage for a wank session.  Then, I would switch out of my porno pants and spend a couple hours around Stillwater close by.  Then, I would go home and nap before the Loons Match.

But nooooooooo, my stripper girlfriend changed plans again.  Instead of 1, which is when she wanted me to come over, she now wants me to come over a bit past 5, which is when her son goes to work.  Well, shit, why in the hell didn't you just say 5?  Your son doesn't know when he's working until the day before?  And of course this fucks up all my plans.  If I want to still hang out in Stillwater -- and I guess I do -- I now have to do it before getting jerked off by *****y, and then I can't come home because I might as well just hang out on that side of the Twin Cities and go down to St. Paul.  Weird to be doing something out in public after getting an HJ.  Oh, well.

Hanging all over this is the weather.  It's supposed to get hot starting today, but it's been cloudy all day.  That and, you know, meeting *****y when she first wanted me to cum over would lead me to going out and walking outdoors around Stillwater for an hour or two.  But not only will I not do that now, I might not do that at all because the Sun is supposed to come out later this afternoon.  I might be spending my time in Stillwater indoors, which may or may not be fun.

Eggplant Emoji Or No Eggplant Emoji?

So I'm Facebook friends with this hot woman who is not a model (at least I don't think) but is a swimwear designer.  She takes many photos of herself in her creations.  She's got a great body, but it's not as if she's showing off her ass or anything, which in my opinion is nudity.  So while she's beautiful, it never gets to the point where I have the perverted urge to send her an eggplant emoji.

Yesterday/Tuesday her Reels pop up.  She's in her swimsuits again, only this time she has a younger woman with her.  She never says, but I suspect she's her daughter.  And she's modeling her (maybe) mom's swimsuits too.  She's fucking hot as well, and this time, she's showing off her ass.

Two hotties, one of whom showing her bare ass?  Yeah, that's enough for me to send an eggplant emoji -- actually two, one for each of them.  But then I paused.  Do I really want to do that?  I scroll through our Messenger to see if I sent her eggplant emojis before -- I haven't.  If I give her the double eggplant, will she be mad at me?  Worse yet, would she show her followers what I Messengered her?

I hope not, but I can't take that risk.  So despite my horniness, I decided not to respond.  It makes me sick to my stomach that I'm censoring myself.  But I'm getting older, though, and maybe more paranoid.

Isn't Shohei Ohtani Ruining My Plans?

I have today/Wednesday off.  I have had this day planned off for some time.  I had changed it to going to the dentist's in case I needed to go back a second time this month to fill in all the cavities, but I didn't, so I reverted back to my original reason for taking that day off: To at least catch one full day of World Cup Matches that wouldn't short-staff my co-workers.  (Turns out work has been very light since last week, for some strange reason, so that reason is pretty much moot.  Also, I was going to take the whole week off, plus the back half of last week off, in anticipation of being hired for The Special Olympics, but that didn't happen.)

That was before I remembered that The Los Angeles Dodgers, my baseball team when I was out there for college, was in town and, in fact, in town for a three-Game series Monday through today.  I was going to skip it because hey, it's the World Cup, something I won't see for another four Years (well, at least the Men's; the Women's comes up next summer).  But then I checked the pitching matchup: Today, Shohei Ohtani pitches.  I know Ohtani is probably awesome to watch when he's just batting.  But he's a unicorn in that he's in the Lineup even when he's the Starting Pitcher.  His continued success doing both makes him, according to a growing chorus of baseball experts and fans, The Best Baseball Player In History.  Yes, even better than Babe Ruth.  For that reason alone, I think I need to see him do both in person.  It might be more than four Years before he comes to Target Field and does this again, if he ever does.  And, and this is relatively minor, but Joe Ryan is hurling for the Twins.  Great matchup.

I just convinced myself that going to the Twins Game tonight/Wednesday is the right thing to do.  But I wanted to blog post that I have altered my long-held plan to just plop my butt at a pub to watch soccer all day.  So, in that sense I've, well, usurped myself.  This is not the reason I was taking today off.  And I have to note that the Twins Game is badly timed.  The tripleheader of World Cup Matches are at 2, 5 and 8.  The baseball Game's at 6:40.  Plus, parking might be a bear because of Ohtani pitching.  So the plan I have now -- going downtown early to (hopefully) find parking and pay (ugh), watching the 2 o'clock Matches, then doing ... um, something and then heading to the ballpark relatively early -- has a lot of downtime that can't be filled by watching soccer Games in their entirety, which is something I really, really want to do.  It might not make sense to go downtown early to watch soccer.  So, taking that into account, why take off work?  Why not just go from work to the baseball Game?  If work is light again today/Wednesday, I could even stop at home and change, or even nap.

Eh, whatever.  I have the day off.  I'm going to see Ohtani pitch and hit, and whatever else I have the energy to do, I'll do.

Old Chicken Not As Good As New-ish Chicken

So yesterday/Monday I was invited to this house party that was happening later into the evening.  Normally I wouldn't go because of the last-minute notice ... and I usually haven't.  But it was at a place much more convenient to me, plus ****e was there, and it just so happened I texted her on Sunday.  Work was a bear, but I managed to get out in time so that I could go home, change, get money, and then get to the party in time to get my rocks off.

While waiting for ****e and *****y (who told me about the party) to double-team me, I sat in the cramped kitchen which was hosting this shindig with three-to-four other guys who have either gotten serviced or were waiting to be serviced by at least one of those two women.  There's always food at these stripper parties.  And even though food is the furthest thing I need when I go to these parties, there's nothing else to do there except eat.  Someone, probably one of the dancers, bought take-home chicken and fries, presumably from Cub Foods.  I ate it.  And even though it had been laying around of at least 90 minutes, it tasted good.

I planned to have Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner last/Monday night.  Well, let me go back a bit ... before I even knew there was a party going on, I was planning on going to the Ty Segall concert at First Ave.  But I checked his recent playlist.  He doesn't seem to deviate from concert to concert, and the one song for which I would have gone to see him play (his awesome, stomping cover of Hot Chocolate's "Every 1's A Winner") he has not played at all in his tour, at least not yet.  I'm not a big-enough fan of Mr. Segall that I would go see him play songs I don't know, so I decided not to go.  Maybe I should've researched his tour set earlier so I could have made this decision earlier.

Anyway, because I decided not to go to the concert, I quickly pivoted to eating KFC after the party.  I recently signed up for the fast food restaurant's application, and because I'm a first-time signee, I got this deal where, for the first seven days I signed in, I could get my first order through their app for half off.  I had planned this after looking over the menu, so I knew that I was going to order a four-piece chicken meal, which came with a side (I settled on fries), a biscuit, and a Pepsi.  That would originally go for about $14.50 (!), so seeing as I was going to get it for half-off, I figure this would be the only time I would ever get it.

When my parents were here (ish), they would make me get KFC on Tuesdays.  They still have a deal where a bucket of eight pieces of chicken sells for ten bucks.  Those were always hot.  These weren't.  Still, I thought it would taste good, so I sat down and at them and ... they weren't.  I don't know why.  I don't think it's quality control, at least beyond the warmth.  But it wasn't as good as the leftover chicken I ate at the party.  That can't be right.  The only thing I can think of is that, besides having popcorn and a Cpari-Sun-like juicebox at work, given to us by the company, I was really hungry, and that leftover chicken hit the spot.  I ate all my KFC with little difficulty, but when I started, admittedly, I wasn't hungry.

Maybe I should've saved that Kentucky Fried Chicken order for another day.  Or maybe this KFC store had a bad run of chicken and if I had gone somewhere else that night I would've gotten better chicken.  Who knows?

Best Sleep I Ever Had ... Most Awkward Morning I'll Ever Have

Work was hell yesterday.  They were short-staffed at data entry, so the person who would've helped me in The Third Department was keying most of the day.  Thank goodness she was able to help out near the end of the day; there were stacks of papers that allowed tests to be processed, and honestly, I had so much other shit I needed to do that all of that stuff would not have gotten done.  That's a lot of tests that would've waited till today, and people would not have been happy.

Still, I was busy with my own shit.  I knew before coming in to work yesterday that we would be short-staffed.  I had plans yesterday to eat dinner, then go see roller derby.  But leaving work on Thursday all tired and ragged, I was afraid that I wouldn't have time between work and roller derby yesterday, so I broke my planned edict not to spend any money on Thursday and ate dinner (and grab that free birthday ice cream cup) at Culver's.  And, sure enough, I had to stay an extra couple hours at work, so once I decided I hate to shut things down, I immediately went to roller derby, which was an excellent time featuring a championship bout where one team came back from, like, 40 points down in the First Half to take the lead late, only to lose by two Points at the end.

I ate at roller derby, and since this was in a good part of town to eat, I ate a knockoff Taco Bell crunchwrap close by.  And then coming home I was listening to Duke's buzzer-beater over LSU in the Women's Tournament Regional Semifinal.  It was 11:30 by the time I got to my bed, and I think my body was telling me to go to bed.  I figured if I'm not that tired, I would wake up from a nap.

But I didn't.  I woke up when normal people wake up, around 8 or so.  I didn't expect to have a full night's sleep, and at a time when you "should," but I did and I feel really good, of course.

Then, I felt really good.  Part of me going to bed easily was because I wanted to avoid the news about whether Tennessee lost to Iowa St.  I had the Volunteers winning, and it was an important pick to keep my bracket alive for the big, big money.  I saw a skeet that Tennessee was up by one at halftime, but that was it.  I knew I had to finally find out the final (if only because I had to post on Facebook about it), so I looked at my Yahoo! Sports app ... and I saw that they blew out the Cyclones in the Second Half and won going away!  Yippee!!!

Quick update on my bracket: I went 7-0 in Round 3.  I still have Arizona, Duke and Michigan in Round 4, and I think I still am in contention for winning it all.  Out of a thousand people (give or take), I went from a tie for 15th to, get this, fourth.  I think there's a way for me to end up on top, but a lot of things have to break my way.  Meanwhile, there are so many entries that there's one guy who picked Illinois and Tennessee in the Final Four, and he's right up there at the top of the leaderboard with me.

---

And now the other shoe drops: No Kings.  Everybody's going.  Well, everybody but me.  I decided this week not to go.  There is work because they are short-staffed today as well.  And, call me paranoid, but I know that there is surveillance from the federal (don't know about the state) government going on.  I walk on the State Capitol, where everybody is, and there's no telling whether there's going to be a drone recording all of our faces.

I hate that I'm thinking this way.  I hate that I'm chickening out and using work as an excuse, and I am.  I am getting total FOMO right now, and the rallies haven't even started yet, because, even though it's been mentioned in many places, the No Kings March in St. Paul is going to be recognized as The Flagship No Kings March.  Out of the thousands of protests that are and will be going on around the world, it'll be ours in St. Paul regarded as the touchstone.  Senator Bernie Sanders will be there.  So will Bruce Springsteen.  And the more I write about this, the more I regret not going.

And the worst thing about this is the text I got on Messenger.  One of my friends, who has been talking to me off and on about this current installed government, just asked me if I was going.  She, of course, is going, and more power to her.  But I don't know how to tell I'm not going.  We've talked about how much we hate this government and are trying to figure out how to rebel against them.  Surely I would go to something like this, right?  No.  And I don't know how to tell her.

I think she's waiting on an answer.  Maybe I'll take a shower and think up something.  How awkward.

Have I Still Got My Libido At 50?

So after our volunteering event we hung out at a nearby restaurant to watch our alma mater play in the tournament.  And swear to God, there were so many hot women there with bazoombas underneath tight shirts (with bras, boo) that you know were so big they would go "Blammo!" as soon as they were unleashed.  And it probably was the one-off 75-80-degree weather that day that encouraged these hotties to look their hottest.  Damn!

I think I touched myself three out of the last four days.  Probably the aftereffects of feeling hot and horny for the first time on Saturday.  But it also might be me trying to hang onto my youth by convincing myself I could still get it up and unleash my splooge by jerking off as much as I could.  That might also be the reason I am going to try and see ****e this weekend ... or, it might be that I really, truly want to fuck her.

Oh, and there was the hot young thing (but old enough to be legal, trust me!) at Culver's, where I decided to spend money yesterday/Wednesday when I planned on not spending money yesterday/Wednesday, thinking that it's probably the best way to spread out all the free food birthday offers that are about to expire.  Glad I changed my mind, because this blonde was well built, had a huge chest, and wore a tight wifebeater that still showed off her gorgeous belly.  I think I got hard.

Yep, I think I still have a libido at age 50!!!

I Hate It When I Panic, And I Really Hate It When I Don't Have To Panic

I wasn't in a good frame of mind when I came home last/Tuesday night after the Timberwolves Game (which they won, even though they finally took the lead on The Bastard Vancouver Grizzlies just before halfway through the Third Quarter).  Naturally I checked the thermostat first thing when I got home.  And the thermostat was blank.

Ah, so the batteries ran out.  Well, Father bought a huge stash of AA batteries, so I replaced them.  But the thermostat still didn't work.  Oh, no.  The thermostat we have is just a programmable one.  It also has been there as far as I can remember.  It's been so long since it's been replaced, it makes sense that the damn thing just conked out.

Unfortunately, I suddenly realized I was in the lurch.  You can't really go without a thermostat, can you?  Well, I should take that back; if it were not too long ago, when the temperature was below freezing all day, not having the ability to heat the house with the help of a thermostat would be dangerous.  But we are, thankfully, having a mild (if not necessarily a heat) wave with temps punching into the fifties most days this week.  I have been told that you don't want to let the ambient temperature of the house drop below 60 degrees.  That would happen if it were below freezing, but probably not now when it's much warmer than that.

That would give me time.  To do what ... well, that's what I have been doing the next couple hours.  I ran into a YouTube video whereby you could hack the furnace on using this special two-way wire that does the work of a thermostat, including stopping when it reaches a certain temp.  But my main concern, obviously, is getting a new thermostat.  I tried looking for the exact type of thermostat, but that thing is damn old, so it's not in stock at any hardware store.  It's plentiful online, but that obviously would take time to get shipped, and as much as I think the house could survive without regular heat because of the milder temps, I don't know how long I want to tempt that.

Unfortunately, the thermostats that I could just go and buy are way, way different from the one that's in the house now.  First of all, I see these smart thermostats and they are way too smart for me.  Then, as I fell further down the rabbit hole of learning about the world of thermostats, I saw that the wiring pattern behind the thermostat is very, very important to note and even take a photo of.  Each brand and maybe even each model of thermostat will or might have a different configuration of the ends of the wires being plugged into its socket.  Moreover, the configuration of how the sockets are arranged vary by brand and even by model.  So if I bought one of these things off the shelf, I would have to unscrew the wires, unscrew the mounting plate, put the new mounting plate in (while making sure it's level), then carefully matching up the wires to its socket in the new configuration.  And I'm supposed to make sure the HVAC is completely unplugged while I do this, and I don't know how the hell to do that.  I was going to just wing it and do this intricate wiring work without shutting the power off to the HVAC.  Hey, I'm a big boy now, right?

Ultimately, though, I decided I was too chickenshit to do that.  My dumb ass was sure to get electrocuted.  And then I went on Amazon, saw this particular brand of thermostat, and then saw that magic word: "Prime."  If I sign up -- and, of course, it's only a free trial! -- I can get this same brand of thermostat delivered in two days.  I think the house can go without heat for two days in this weather, right?  So I signed up to get it this Friday.  I just have to remember to cancel Amazon Prime in 30 days because Amazon is the devil.  I just had to dance with him because otherwise I would have no heat.

With that bought ... well, why don't I try new batteries in the old thermostat again?  There are plenty down there, and maybe I just got two bad ones or something.  So I took that old thermostat downstairs, found two other "new" batteries, put them in ... and the display was back on.  Jesus fucking Christ, did I pick two new batteries that just didn't fucking work?  Or is this thermostat being so flighty that it just decided to work then and there?

So I have heat now, and it seems to be working fine.  I thought about cancelling delivery of the new/old thermostat and Amazon Prime.  But remembering how panicked I was, I'm keeping it.  This is a prime example where it's smart to have a back-up.  Of course, I have to remember that I have a back-up thermometer.  If this one conks out for real, there's a good chance I will forget I bought a replacement.  Where would I even put this one once it comes in?  Well, that's not the worst problem to have.

---

I told you at the start of this blog post that I was not in a good frame of mind.  That's because of the car.  I'm scaring myself into thinking it's way too low on oil.  I have checked, or tried to check, the level a few times over the past week or so, but the goddamn thing is so hard to read.  I have a dipstick that has a plastic orange end.  It's hard to read when there's clear, new oil, and it's also a bitch to decipher because it seemingly has oil above the full dot and below the empty dot, and then it's completely drenched in oil on one side of the dipstick but completely dry on the other.

I checked the oil level before driving out of downtown after the Wolves Game.  The dipstick was how I described it above, and it wasn't the first time it looked like this.  So is my car completely tapped out of oil?  I can't believe that; I got an oil change about 2 1/2 months ago, and I don't think it's leaking oil.  And what if I have overfilled it, which is something I am scared as hell I have done if I fully believe what I saw on my dipstick these past few times, acted as if my engine was empty, but got suckered because it was in fact full, or even more than full?

I am in a bind.  Or, I have put myself in a bind of my own delusions.  I have blog posted before that I might be scaring myself into thinking I am about to do catastrophic damage to my car by doing and/or not doing something when the best thing I could do is just chill and drive.  Maybe that's the case here, and I should just relax ... no, fuck no, I need to take this into the dealership.  Maybe they can figure out how much oil is in my car without charging me for an oil change, or something.  And then they can teach me how to fuckin' read the oil level on their shitty dipstick.

And I am changing my mind on that, maybe.  I am leaning toward putting in just a little more oil.  Maybe that'll be the thing that finally gives me the results I want to see on the dipstick.  But what if I overfill it?  I've seen so many fucking disaster films.  Man, why do I have a car?  Why do I even drive?  It's just one more burden you're placing on yourself.

Deep breaths, trying to take deep breaths. ...

Well, Thanks For Telling Me, Amazon!

No joke, I spent a lot of the last 24 hours thinking about what I would do after work last/Tuesday night.  Combining my principles (or OCD) of trying to use only cash or credit cards a day and not making four trips in my car a day (three is fine, five is fine, four is not because four is an unlucky number), I was figuring out whether I should immediately drive home after work or go out and get groceries.

Beyond the OCD principles above, the thing that factored into my decision was that the measuring cup I bought that I was going to use as my jigger for cocktails.  Amazon said it'd arrive Monday, but it didn't.  If it had, I would have gone grocery shopping yesterday/Tuesday at the discount food store close by to pick up a lemon and a lime.  I would only go there yesterday/Tuesday because on Tuesdays everything is an extra 10% off.  And since I would have gone there, I would have gone to the ATM to pick up cash, probably get gasoline for my car, maybe get some fast food to eat both last/Tuesday night and a future day, and, oh yeah, buy more cocktail items like ginger ale and ginger beer.

But yet, I got to thinking at work.  Why buy a lemon and lime if I don't have the measuring cup?  What I do is slice one of them in half and squeeze them into the cup.  That does two things.  One, I can see how much juice I squeeze, and that dictates which cocktail I would make for myself.  Two, I hear that you leave out lemon and lime juice sitting out because it tastes better about four to ten hours after you squeeze it.  It's a waste buying them without getting the jigger first, especially since this is (I think) the second time Amazon moved the delivery date of the cup.  Amazon said that instead of Monday, it would arrive Friday, and in fact, if it didn't arrive on Friday, I could ask for a refund.

So why am I doing all this stuff yesterday/Tuesday?  I could do it, say, today/Wednesday.  I get out of work early because I'm cutting.  For fast food, I could go to the last Godfather's Pizza in the state, which is going to close on Saturday.  Assuming I leave early enough (and that may be in jeopardy because we have been asked to work overtime because the shipments are still playing catch-up), traffic both on the road and at the restaurant will be easier to deal with.  Meanwhile, I took out a rack of leftover ribs from the freezer to the refrigerator on Sunday.  I see on the Internet that leftovers in the fridge are good for about four days before they should be thrown away.  Why chance it and just eat the ribs yesterday/Tuesday when, by the way, I can watch an NBA Game on NBC?

So just going home it is!  And then, once I get home, I check the mailbox and see a package.  I was able to push my thumb into its middle, so it was the measuring cup.  It was supposed to come last week, then Monday, then Friday, and then for some dumb reason it came yesterday/Tuesday.  I thought I should check Amazon before I started my car at work, just in case, but I still blame Amazon for not getting the precise delivery date right.

But I stuck to my guns and went inside to eat ribs and watch basketball.  My plan on doing everything I thought I would do yesterday/Tuesday today/Wednesday after work is still mostly intact.  Well, besides getting the lemon and the lime, since it's not Tuesday anymore.  And I guess I can make do with the alcohol I have now, so the ginger beer and ale can wait.  I just hope nothing goes wrong, like me falling asleep at the wheel or getting detained on my way home.

Should I See Her?

With my parents now gone, I feel free to see my All-Time Favorite at My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Division).  I tell her on Sunday I want to see her this week.

Big mistake now that these fuckers are trying to push us around.  I started to see videos on websites, applications, social media and the news about people getting kidnapped by faceless thugs, who then push and teargas onlookers, protestors and patriots trying to film their illegal kidnappings.  And I have heard that these motherfuckers have been on my street the past couple days.

So yeah, I'm freaking out.  I don't know if I should be out and about these days.  And I told my ATF so, apologizing for possibly changing my mind.  But I thought about this too: If I am afraid these assholes are going door to door ... do I feel safe at home?  If so, should I be home?  Could I, in fact, be safer somewhere besides my house?  (I realized when I was working yesterday/Monday that I, to my astonishment, felt safer there than I have felt the past several days.)  If that's the case, would it be better for me to go to the strip club?  I know it's bad odds, but maybe I will be out on a night where these assholes are invading our street.

I've been looking up a website that tracks this vermin wherever they go and whatever they do, whether it's detaining some poor guy who got caught up at the wrong place at the wrong time or if they're just eating shit at some gas station.  No doubt they're here, and they have been extremely close in the area.  So I am looking at how frequently they are where I need to be and would like to go (work, strip club, parks, where I exercise) and see, over the next couple days, if it's safe or not.  (One observation I have made: These pricks are avoiding both downtowns, at least for now.)  And still I know it's a crapshoot that wherever I go and whatever I do, I still might get attacked.

When I told her I am having second thoughts, she said, "Do what you think is best for you."  I am sad that she sounds disappointed.  I hope she understands what I'm going through.  But when I told her why I was hesitating, she asked, "Do you think you look like what they're looking for?"  And I am disappointed that she doesn't appear to think that what is happening to other people of color could happen to me.  That "First They Came" poem?  I hope she read it.

Shit, I might just give her the poem when I see her this week.

I'm scared now.  Heard that yesterday/Friday, two school systems shut down for the day because of fucking ICE.  They seem to be in the neighborhood; I heard a rumor that they were staging at the parking lot of the Target.  How scary, and how disgraceful.

I went to a sporting event last/Friday night.  On my way back from the Game (which my alma mater won), I looked at my Bluesky.  Apparently, police and/or ICE are pulling cars off the exit ramps around the Twin Cities.  That's when all this bullshit hits home with me.  These ICE-holes are flagging and possibly detaining anyone, and not because they're enforcing a law; they're doing that because Dear Leader told them to, and you don't want to displease Dear Leader, do you?

So, instead of going to Taco Bell, I hightailed it into my house, where I am safe ... for now.

On Money -- When I Spend It And When I Complain About Spending It

So work yesterday/Friday ended at 2.  Missed the regulation Game (Germany doubled up Denmark and thus will stay up in the Top Division), but saw Switzerland come from behind in The Second Period and defeat Czechia in the 3:30 Game I was able to buy a ticket and make it to, then (with a ticket I already bought, not at work less than two hours before puck drop like the Czechs-Swiss Game) witnessed Canada crush Slovakia in the 7:30 Game, 7-1.

I got a ticket for the 3:30 matchup on a scalper site for $18 or so.  I was curious, so Thursday I checked prices for the 7:30 Game.  I bought one just before the tournament started for ... um, just under $70, I think.  I assumed that that Game would feature Canada, and that Canadians would swoop in from up north to see this Quarterfinal matchup.  I bought it before the tournament because the prices were starting to rise after falling a bit, and I was afraid that Canada fans would finally snatch them up thinking that they would be seeing their team.  What I forgot to factor in was Trump wanting to annex the entire nation.  That idiotic talk convinced many Canadians to not vacation in the U.S.  I remember hearing so many resorts and convention bureaus say that the number of Canadians vacationing in their cities and towns have plummeted.  I remember this now, but I didn't remember it when I bought that ticket.  (That's probably due to all the bullshit coming from that asshole's mouth; you forgot the crap he said because he constantly says new crap.  Apparently, it's a strength of his.)  So I checked Thursday and I could get in for about $39.  Dammit.  Well, I chalked this mistake up to our dumbass President and the fact that this is the World Juniors we're talking about; I don't mind paying a premium for an event I probably will never attend again even though it turns out I overspent by about $31.

---

So I blog posted on here before about buying World Juniors merchandise, and about whether I wanted to buy at Mariucci Arena, the pop-up store at the Mall Of America, or both.  There were a lot of things I tried to consider about whether and what to buy, all of it leading me to a web of confusion.  Foremost among them was price, of course, but another thing was scarcity, in particular whether an item is only in one place.  And I think my OCD kicked in, because I got really, really obsessed over that when I went to Mariucci yesterday/Friday to watch the Games.

When I went down to the Megamall last Saturday, I hemmed and hawed about several items I saw down there.  Eventually I decided not to buy the big tickets items, such as jerseys and hooded sweatshirts.  They were oversized and they had designs that I wasn't too keen about.  Oh, and the price, of course.

I bought two medium size t-shirts of the same design.  It was important to me to at least buy anything World Juniors-related that had the official 2026 IIHF World Juniors logo and the flags of the ten countries competing.  I also bought two because of my OCD: The plan is to wear one and to keep one for storage for ... I don't know what.  Anyway, I bought a pair.  I also bought a scarf which, sad to say, I forgot to wear Friday to Mariucci when I planned on doing so.

But back to the t-shirts.  I don't necessarily regret buying them, but I recognized the style of that t-shirt when I was going through the merch store at Mariucci.  I was afraid that they would have sold out at the arena, and that's why I bought it down in Bloomington, but it isn't "special" because I saw it at MOA and Mariucci.  On the other hand, there were many, and I mean many, items at the pop-up that I didn't remember seeing at the arena.

I went into the merch store before the Czechia-Switzerland Game to buy my stuff before the Canadians did.  I wouldn't say it was cleaned out, but compared to what I saw on Boxing Day, they went through a lot of stuff.  However, and damn my fuzzy memory, even though there were several items there that I didn't see down in Bloomington, I think I'm right in thinking there is more "unique" stuff down at the Mall Of America than at the store in Mariucci.

And yet ... the things I saw in Mariucci that I don't recall seeing at MOA I pretty much bought.  At first I got a winter hat with the logo stitched on it (I know I didn't see that at the Megamall) and a logo pin (don't recall seeing it at MOA, but it's a small pin, so I could've missed it).  But during the first two periods of the Czechia-Switzerland Game I was debating about whether to buy more stuff.  Well, I save a lot of money because my parents buy all the food we eat, so I indulged myself.  At the Second Intermission, I went back into the merch store and bought a light blue hoodie with just the big logo in front (I don't think they have that one at the Megamall ... do they?) and two more t-shirts.  This one design has the logo in the front and the flags of the ten countries in the back along with Paul Bunyan as a hockey player and Babe The Blue Ox as a Goaltender.  I liked the Minnesota tie-in.  And I know I did not see this particular t-shirt at MOA.

I have dropped about $200 in World Juniors-branded clothing.  I don't think I have spent so much money in memorabilia for a single sporting event.  There have been other big sporting events I've attended ... well, actually I worked a Super Bowl and a Final Four.  I don't know how ethical it would've been to buy stuff, especially I was, you know, supposed to be working.  But for the World Juniors I'm a fan, and like I said, I have money, so I am getting all this.

And dammit ... my OCD wants me to go back to the Mall Of America a third time to go into that pop-up store to look one more time at the "exclusive" stuff it turns out I could only buy there.  In particular there was this orange quarter-zip that had the logo blown up and in contrast in the back.  Now I feel bad that I didn't buy it then.  But that pop-up store closes either tomorrow/Sunday or Monday, and now I feel compelled to buy that -- or, if that's gone, maybe something else I can only get there.  I had plans to just go home immediately after the Vikings Game, but this is the World Juniors, so I've decided I can alter my plans, cut out early from U. S. Bank Stadium, drive down there before the mall closes, and take out my credit card to buy stuff marking this once-in-a-lifetime event ...

... unless there's nothing there for me to buy and/or it's too expensive and/or all the stuff there I saw at Mariucci, in which case it would be a waste of time but whatever, I need to see for myself.  And this is where I catch myself not being frugal.  I'll spend (or fritter away) money if it's for a big sporting event and if I think the stuff I can buy is "special."  And I will beat myself up after the fact when I begin to doubt whether it is "special."  My goodness, I can't buy anything without a tinge of regret.

Was Going To Stay In, But ...

This might be a mistake.  But I went to a couple Games of the World Juniors at Mariucci, and there may be a few things I want to buy.  But the items on sale at that arena seem to be different, if not really different, from the items I saw at the IIHF World Juniors pop-up store at the Mall Of America.  Also, I went in the second Game, when Canada was playing.  The merchandise store at Mariucci was packed.  Now, the store is really small, even if the Game was only half-full, so the idea that things could sell out quickly based on what I went through last night probably is overblown.  Still, that has made an impression me, and add to that the items I thought I saw at MOA but not there has convinced me to change out of my clothes and go out today, to the Megamall, probably to buy some World Juniors stuff.  Other factors factoring into this decision: There are no important Games on TV I can stay home and watch (there are college football Bowls, but they're exhibitions, so they're not important; by the way, I think there are only three top-flight men's Games and one top-flight women's Game today, seriously!); weather's pretty good for driving right now (above freezing, no rain); and, surprisingly, I haven't been asked to come in to work.

I really don't want to drive, but instead I think I'll stay home next Saturday, when there will be a couple NFL Games on free TV.  This plan might blow up in my face, of course.  It's possible I could go down there and everything's sold out, or there are items there that I don't want to buy, or all the stuff there is exactly what I saw at Mariucci last night.  But like I said, the World Juniors ain't comin' around every year, so I might as well experience it while it is.  Let's hope it works out!

What I'm Doing This Christmas Weekend; Christmas Song Review

It's not going to be much of a Christmas holiday for me.  I'm working today/Thursday/Christmas, and then, instead of just vegging at home, I've decided I am going to a few Hockey World Juniors Games, on Friday and Sunday.  I need to stand by my principle that I should go to things that might not come around here for a long time, and the Hockey World Juniors might not be in the Twin Cities ever again, at least not in my lifetime.  In fact, I changed my mind and bought tickets to not one but both Group Stage Games tomorrow/Friday at Mariucci.  I was going to go to Hooters at MOA after the afternoon Game, but as far as I know, Hooters will be around in 2026; the World Juniors will not.  I just need to figure out what I'm going to do inbetween Games.  Oh, and even though there are Games on Saturday, that's when I figure I'll just sleep in.  That's my time to relax for Christmas.

---

Before I delve into this Christmas' Christmas song, I have to apologize for doubling up.  I was looking through past Christmas song reviews and didn't realize that I wrote about Brenda Lee's "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree" twice, last year and in 2019.  I don't know how I forgot I did it twice.  Sorry.  I will do better and check beforehand.

My Christmas song for 2025 is a challenging one because it's not originally a Christmas song.  It's "My Favorite Things," from the musical The Sound Of Music.  I'm still trying to understand how it accreted its Christmas meaning after it was made, but let me go through the chronology as I understand it.  I'm using articles from Mental Floss, Billboard, and Wikipedia (two articles) to research this.

The Sound Of Music first appeared on Broadway in 1959, with the song showing up in Act I, completely devoid of its current meaning.  The cast album was released that year and topped the Billboard charts for 16 weeks, then stayed in the Top 10 for the next two years.  Now here's where it gets weird: Julie Andrews, who plays the main character of Maria in the film adaptation of The Sound Of Music, performed "My Favorite Things" on a variety show on CBS called The Garry Moore Show at Christmastime in 1961.  Note that Andrews has no connection with the original stage version of The Sound Of Music.  She was eventually cast as Maria for the film version, but that was made in 1964 and released in 1965.  According to Wikipedia, a man by the name of Ernest Lehman was hired to write the screenplay in December of 1962.

It looks as though the "Christmasifying" (I'm taking that word from the Mental Floss article) of "My Favorite Things" came in 1964 due to, ironically enough, the film version of The Sound Of Music.  The music publishing division of the The Rodgers & Hammerstein Organization (Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II wrote the music and lyrics for the stage musical, their last together before Hammerstein died of stomach cancer in August 1960) knew the film adaptation was going to be released in March 1965.  It was being marketed as a tentpole movie (it would go on to win five Oscars, including Best Picture), but that publishing division wanted a song from that movie to become a hit before the movie came out, otherwise they were afraid the movie wouldn't make any money.

Someone from the Rodgers & Hammerstein Organization went to a music producer named Mickey Kapp to see if there was a way to get a song from The Sound Of Music into any album Kapp was producing.  He told the representative that he was currently producing a Christmas album for a singer named Jack Jones; Jones, who died in October 2024, sang the theme song to The Love Boat, by the way.  This rep thought that "My Favorite Things" would be a good song for Jones to sing and for Kapp to add to the album, which is called The Jack Jones Christmas Album.

But why "My Favorite Things" for a Christmas album?  Well, that's where you listen to the song and note all the references to winter and Christmas, or at least references that lend themselves to the season and the holiday if you imagine big enough: "Warm woolen mittens"; "Brown paper packages tied up with strings"; "Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes"; etc.  Who knows if Rodgers & Hammerstein picked up on the Christmas allusions when they wrote the song.  But Kapp, sticking to the original context of "My Favorite Things," said it wasn't a good idea to put it on a Christmas album because it wasn't a Christmas song.  To which this promoter said, "Just add sleigh bells."

Well, Kapp did add sleigh bells, and Jones sang the song, and "My Favorite Things" was put into The Jack Jones Christmas Album, and ... it looks like it didn't become a hit, nor could people directly credit that song for people buying tickets to The Sound Of Music, the movie.  But people in the music industry apparently saw "My Favorite Things" as a Christmas song then, and thought it was good, because from then on other artists did their own version of "My Favorite Things" for their Christmas albums, and it then became the standard holiday song it is now.

But I'm not going for Jack Jones's or Julie Andrews's or even the original version of "My Favorite Things."  I love, and I mean love, John Coltrane's cover of it.  It swings so effortlessly, and my Buddha, his playing after the verses lifts me up to the sky.  I shouldn't leave out McCoy Tyner; his revolutionary piano playing on the song is a heaven-sent complement to Trane's virtuosity.  Only in the past year or so have I realized I now have a song that makes me feel happy every time I hear it.

And here's the ironic part of that: The album "My Favorite Things" is on (and the album is named after the song) was released in March 1961 -- a couple years after the stage musical premiered and almost four years before Mickey Kapp and Jack Jones put it on a Christmas album.  It wasn't a Christmas song when Coltrane recorded it, and yet you hear it come Christmastime.  I can't call this "retconning," short for retroactive continuity, but maybe this phenomenon could be called, uh, retroactive meaning-making ... or something?

OK, maybe not.  But here's John Coltrane doing "My Favorite Things."  Get happy, and Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays:

I'm Not Mad At Them, Just Disappointed

Another thing about the funeral service for my neighbor: Neither of my parents went.  Mother was dead set against it once I told her; I thought Father would go, and he said yes, but the night before he said no.  So, even though we lived a few houses down from her, even though they sometimes waved to her when the neighbor was enjoying the outdoors on her porch, and even though, when my folks were making egg rolls for us to eat, would make enough for her to eat as well, they refused to say goodbye to her in the last time one could say goodbye to someone before the body is laid into the earth or cremated.

My parents are very private people, but I really, really thought the circumstances around this death would prompt them to behave differently this one time.  They knew her.  They live close by.  The service was two minutes away by car.  (I walked there; if it weren't cold, snowy and windy as it was that afternoon, they could've made it in five minute on foot, and even if they didn't want to go, I could fucking drive them.)  And they fucking had nothing else to do.  And yet, they refused.  Maybe you could blame the weather, maybe you could blame them being so old and not wanting to risk, for example, falling on the icy sidewalk.  But those are just excuses.  Fact is, they just don't fucking care.  And they showed their whole ass for my neighbor's children to see when I showed up but they didn't, even though it would have been so goddamn easy for them to put something clean on and stand for two hours.

Also, like I said in my previous blog post about this, they originally planned to leave for Las Vegas the morning of the ceremony.  They said they thought the flight they wanted to take would prevent me from going.  I told them when I first told them about the date of the funeral service that I could take them to the airport, come back, shower, dress and get to the ceremony, no problem -- and it wouldn't have been a problem.  I thought they stayed because at least one of them would pay their respects.  So, if they wouldn't, then why the hell are they fucking here for another three goddamn weeks?  If they're not going to be nice, respectful people in saying goodbye to a neighbor and trying to comfort her loved ones, why don't you just get the hell on out of here?

I'm not mad at them, I'm just disappointed.  No, I lie.  I'm disappointed in them, too.  I didn't learn to be a grown-up from them, that's for goddamn sure. ...

I'll Get To The Stuff On My Drawer ... Tomorrow

So whenever I get mail, I don't look at it right away.  Don't care.  I throw it either on a box of alumni-related stuff that was sent to me, which is at a perfect height and distance from my bed so that I feel that, if I want to, I can just reach over and grab it, or on the drawer next to my bed.

It's gotten bigger over the, oh, weeks or months since I last combed through it.  It has gotten to the point where I need to actually look through the mail, and I have picked at it.  I even grabbed a couple envelopes last/Sunday night.  But over the past couple weeks or so I imagined that I would have the time, just one night, to finally go through it all.  But I look at that pile, see that it's, oh, 1 in the morning, and I think to myself, "Nah, I'll do it another time."  As I did just now.

Hey, man, it's a busy week.  I'm even taking time off from work to do stuff I need to do.  I am that busy.

Ever Fart In Front Of A Co-Worker?

I did last week (if you count this past week as this week, if you know what I mean).  I was in the bathroom just peeing and, dammit, it just happened.  And it just happened as someone was passing me by and going into the stall.  No fart control for me on this day.

That's bad enough; chances are pretty good that the person who heard me is someone I interact with, and that is quite embarrassing.  I had half a mind to just scoot out of there, even to the point of not washing my hands.  But I had to in case it was someone I knew; didn't want him to think I don't wash my hands after I pee.  And sure enough, it's one of the guys that I knew.  He said hi to me and, due to shame, I just raised my finger to him.  I was trying to thread the needle of being both cordial and curt, but striking up a conversation right after I farted in front of him (loudly I might add) probably would come off as if I was acting like I did not fart in front of him, and that would be a total lie.

And then I changed my bleepin' mind again because I decided how I was acting was suspicious and rude, so as I left, I gave him a quick goodbye (it was near the end of the day and I was about to leave -- I think).  I doubt that changed the tenor of the bathroom, and it sure as heck didn't erase the fact that I farted loudly in front of my co-worker.  Yeah, I'm not living this down.

The Pains Of Being A Leader

So I organize a Game-watching event for my alma mater's football team.  For the past decade or so, we have, for the most part, congregated at this bar in downtown Minneapolis.  I think things could be better, but for the most part, I like it there.  It's centrally located and, I have to admit, many of the servers there are total babes.  Besides, someone else found this place, and I decided we would just keep going there because we have built so much familiarity and trust.  Well, that or inertia.  Possibly both.

I think we have been treated well by this place over the years.  That's why our group keeps coming back.  Of that group, we have about half a dozen or so who are diehards, those who have been to most of my Game-watching events going back many, many years.  I love them because I get to see them throughout the fall.  I would have no reason to do this if they didn't continue to show up.  So, if and when they have a concern, it would be my duty to listen and consider their grievances.

So, a couple weeks ago our alma mater's Game was on a Saturday night.  It was getting busy, but we found a table.  One of my regulars -- and seriously, this has been the group's A1 from day one -- comes in.  He's been under the weather lately, but he still managed to show up to root not only for our alma mater by also for The Los Angeles Dodgers, of whom he has been a lifelong fan.

Like I said, it got busy.  Not a big deal for a Saturday night, at least in my estimation.  After about five minutes my friend leans into me and says, "You know, I think I'm going to be leaving soon because the waitress is pissing me off."  Whoa.  He's never said that before.  Maybe things were going to blow over because we found a table closer to a TV that would show our Game, but after we scrambled to that table, he decided to leave.  He had a Dodgers hat on; he was planning on staying several hours to watch our football team and the Dodgers.  But he left maybe 15 minutes after he came.

Later that evening, after both the Dodgers and our football team won, I texted him.  I apologized if him leaving early was my fault.  It wasn't, he said, but it was the servers, two of them.  First, and one of the other regulars noticed this when I kind of brushed it off: One of the waitresses told my friend he should not be using a high chair he took from another table because a low one was available at our first table, but my friend's health issues get exacerbated when sitting too low.  There might have been an issue regarding the possibility that this low chair was underneath our first table, so maybe the server didn't know my friend couldn't see it.  Second, another waitress wanted us to wait to get onto this second table until she cleared all the dishes and glasses and wiped it down.  I think that's fine; in fact, I think that is what servers are supposed to do.  But the way my friend put it in his text to me, that was the final straw.  He felt disrespected twice, and so he split.

He was planning not to join us for our team's previous Game because that was on a Friday.  But they're back on Saturdays now, and so I would expect him to come.  But will he?  I wanted to ask him earlier in the week, but I got so busy ... well, to be honest, I have been thinking up the right words to say.  Look, I have left restaurants and bars before because I felt disrespected.  If you feel that way, go up and leave.  You should.  The problem is is that if you feel that way, you never go back to that place.  But that would mean, for me, that my good, good friend, and he's a real good guy, is never joining us for these Game-watching events ever again -- unless I change the venue.  And I am loathe to change our venue.  Sure, it would be nice to have the sound on.  There is a school with a bigger alumni group that literally takes over the bar when their Game is on, forcing us to one table or even to another place.  And maybe going downtown is a deterrent.  But it is such a pain in the you-know-what to patronize a brand-new bar that won't push us aside for a bigger alumni group.  As many disadvantages we've had to put up with, the equity we have built over the years is, to me, still worth staying at this place.  And, finally, I would like to think the slights my friend felt are not so serious enough to not go back.  But that's my perspective, not his, and as a leader, I feel like I have to take his considerations into account seriously.

So, what to do?  I need to text him to ask if he's coming.  Hopefully he'll say he'll give the place another chance.  But if he doesn't want to come back ... well, I don't want to change the place just because he's no longer comfortable going there.  Sure, you can call it laziness, but I don't have the energy to find another sports bar, I just don't.  Does that make me a bad leader if I make the decision to stay?  Maybe, but I can't see myself doing anything else.  So it's my friend or the bar.  And I can't decide.

Sucks being a leader.

Still Fucking Mad At My Fucking Parents

I realized Sunday night that even though I was able to save my shakers and strainer, my jigger and juicers are gone.  Don't know where the hell they are, so they must've thrown them away and I wasn't able to find them.  Jesus fucking Christ, if they just fucking looked at them, they would've known that they were useful.  And they just fucking threw them away.

I couldn't sleep last night.  I was determined to move my stuff.  Without knowing where they might hit me next, I honed in on all my Franklin Planners that I have kept over the years.  I know that if they want to, they can look through them and ask, for example, "Who's (stripper girlfriend's name)?"  And I won't know what to say.  For all the rank invasion of privacy they have just inflicted upon me, none of it appears to be sexual in nature -- as in they haven't found my porn or my cum towel because I had the foresight to throw those into my storage unit.  Thank goodness I still have that.  But, if they want to snoop and look at what I wrote, they might figure shit out.  And if they do, I wouldn't know what to do then.  And I'll leave it at that.

So I devised a plan on taking all my Franklin Planners and throw them into my car to eventually take to my storage place.  But I've been using day planners for, once I started packing them into bags, for upwards of a quarter century.  That's a quarter-century's worth of papers I have put in binders.  It filled two bags, and my unit already is six feet tall.  Man ... do I really have to do this?

I then thought I could bag them, then wait for a morning where I can quickly take them to the car, but I got stopped at the thought of throwing them on top of my tall pile of stuff.  And then I tried stashing them back in my room, specifically my nightstand, but that got full really quick.  I then realized that they were kind of perfect in the bookshelf in my former room which, for some fucking reason, has turned into My Fucking Mother's room she will use if/when she gets hip surgery.

I am scared that I will regret this, but I punted on my plan.  What I wanted to do was a hell of a lot of work that I didn't think was worth it.  So I kind of did half of my plan.  I have put the binders for the six most-recent years in a drawer in my bedroom.  The earliest binders I put back in the bookshelf, even though I made it nicer and put them behind a row of photo albums.  That left two binders, and I think My Fucking Parents won't see that I put them in my nightstand.  Over subsequent years -- if they don't fucking throw them away -- once I bundle the previous year's paper in a binder, I will put it in my drawer, then take the oldest one and put it in my nightstand.  It's the best I am willing to do.  And I hope to Buddha My Fucking Parents don't fuck with them.

And by the way, it may have taken me awhile to realize what else My Fucking Parents threw away.  And I reserve the right to get pissed off later if I realize there are other things they've taken from me.

My Quick Trip Over The Border Was Both Fun And Unnecessary

So I told you all about my plans on going to Wisconsin yesterday/Saturday.  Yeah, a lot of it didn't go as planned.

My phone woke me up at 11.  I was prepared then to across the border to begin my afternoon around that area.  But I checked my texts and saw that *****y, who on Friday wanted to push our session back two hours now wanted to see if I could come today/Sunday.  I have plans to work on donating my car and then going to the United FC Match.  Also, and more importantly, *****y has flaked on me like this in the past, and I was in no mood to accommodate her.  So, we cancelled.  Well, actually, we postponed, but I don't know when the hell I can see her again.  I just know that we agreed on yesterday/Saturday, and she initially sounded really excited about it.  But I didn't like her attitude.  First, she said wanted to delay because she was working like a dog and she wants to look good for me.  She's gorgeous, but frankly, I'm not going to see her because of her looks.  And then, when we decided to delay, she said, "That's too bad."  Huh?  She first begged me to change the appointment of our HJ (a second time, mind you), but to me, she now sounded like she was calling the shots when she definitely is not.  Finally, when she told me she is working out of town on weekends, and I asked her as what, she shut me down.  Excuse me?  Not a fan of small talk now that you blew me off?  Are you an assassin -- is that why you can't say what you do?

Again, she's done this before, but I've come back to her with my erection in my hands, so this will be no different.  But fuck her, I don't want to see her right now.  I'll stick to my women who can keep an appointed time, thank you very much.

---

*****y's blow-off was one of a few signs that convinced me to change my schedule.  It was raining outside, and while I don't think crossing a bridge over the St. Croix River is dangerous in that weather, I would rather not do so, especially in an area of the country I've never been to.  Finally, my boss texted asking if I could come in to work.  I was initially going to stick to my (altered) plans of going to Wisconsin in the afternoon, but I couldn't pass up making a bit more money, and besides, I could drive in the evening when it's drier.

So, I worked in the afternoon.  And even though I didn't at first want to go out in the evening, I did my beer-shopping/lottery ticket-getting then, setting Sun blasting glare everywhere notwithstanding.  So glad that I could buy individual bottles of Spotted Cow.  However, when I tried cashing in Father's winning Mega Millions ticket, the cashier at the Circle K said I couldn't because it was too old.  Father bought this ticket in October, and I thought you had a year before it expires.  But I just looked up the Wisconsin Lottery FAQ, and it says you have only 180 days.  In Minnesota it's a year, and I guess I assumed that year time period was universal when it's not.

Oh, well.  I still promised Father I would get Powerball tickets for him, and I promised the same for my sister, who wanted one once I told her I was going across the border.  Nonetheless, I have to face this fact: If I knew that I couldn't cash in this ticket, I wouldn't have gone across the river into Wisconsin, and I wouldn't have bought any beer.  This would have, and maybe should have, blown up all my big plans of making a daytrip out of Stillwater, Minn., and Houlton, Wisc.

---

Oh, and to top it all off, Mother wanted me to go to Target to buy some miniature apples.  Well, at first, when I told my parents after dinner I was going, she asked me to where.  And I find that so fucking intrusive that I told her, "I'm going out, OK?" because I didn't want them to know my business ... even though I realized that they would know I crossed the border once I gave Father the Powerball tickets I bought for him.  Anyway, she asked because she wanted to know if I was going to Target because she heard these mini-apples were sweet and delicious.  I actually hit up a Target on my way back because I wanted to pick up some POM.  I tried them last night; they're ... OK.

---

No, it wasn't necessary to drive to Wisconsin and back, because of both my plans with *****y falling through and because of the expired lottery ticket.  But I want to note that me driving to the liquor store, and then to the gas station, and then to Target on the Minnesota side, took less than two hours.  I know that the Twin Cities lies relatively close to Wisconsin, but that trip is a tad longer than going out to see my brother and sister-in-law and niece at their home in Carver County.  The border is still fairly far away, and it's not a trip I think I should be doing regularly.  But still, two hours only?  And my car seems to be in good shape?  I have to admit that I had fun last/Saturday night driving by myself to these far-flung places, I really did.

For The Second Wednesday In A Row ...

Saw my schedule yesterday at work and goddammit, for the second Wednesday in a row, I have to cut open packages and get my hands dirty from stranger piss.  I also have to wake up super early in order to do it.  And for the second Wednesday in a row I won't be able to at least enjoy it by going home early because, for the second Wednesday in a row, I have to go to a United FC Match, which means I have to stick around the eastern side of the Twin Cities and find something to do for the 4 1/2 hours between work and the Game.

This time, though, I will not confine myself to the St. Paul side of the Cities.  I want to get a second massage ... yes, for the second Wednesday in a row.  This time, instead of a massage school, I was going to get a proper one.  But this past evening I started to get the heebie-jeebies.  The more I thought about it, the more I kind of get the impression that this salon isn't for men.  So, I have decided to go to the Minneapolis side and get a massage from a place downtown I've been to twice before.  Come to think of it, this place isn't so male-friendly either (although, to be honest, "proper" massage places don't seem to cater to men, do they?), but there have been a couple of Yelp reviews posted by men, plus I didn't feel any bad vibes when I went in the previous two times.

So, I am going to get treat myself for a second long and hellish Wednesday in a row with a massage on the second Wednesday in a row.  I hope not to do this again, however.  It's still a long day.  Also, I can't get massages every week because that will add up.  Finally, I am getting the feeling that going in to cut and touch piss is going to be the thing I am doing on Wednesdays from now on, goddammit.  At some point, I need to cut my Wednesday off early and go home to get some well-earned rest.