Expenses Without Receipt

Starting from Thursday, April 9:

• Well, we should really start on Easter, aka Sunday, April 5, when I went out to the Heights to finally see Psycho.  Man, that shower scene is killer.  Ticket, popcorn, pop and tip: $26.
• Later that evening *****y whacked me off.  I wanted to see her on Easter because she is a regular churchgoer and I find it somewhat ironic that she goes to church and then later that day she gives me an HJ for money, specifically: $150.
• Friday, April 3: I didn't expect to spend money, but Father wanted Powerball tickets, so out I went.  And because I have to stick to my rule of spending cash or using credit cards on a least two things in a day, I decided that I wasn't going to have veggie chips and veggie dip for dinner and instead try a mom-and-pop Latin American restaurant.  There are a few places around here that are recommended.  But they were closed by the time I went out -- I stayed to listen to the end of the South Carolina-UConn women's college basketball Semifinal and in particular Geno Auriemma's meltdown at Dawn Staley -- so I went to a place that was open but fell just below 4 1/2 stars on Google Maps: Que Taco.  Not bad.  I got their birria tacos, and they are the biggest tacos I've seen around the area yet.  Wanted to use the bathroom, but they cordoned that part of the restaurant off with chairs and a mop wringer bucket.  Might go there again if only because it's open when I want to nightcrawl.  I have the receipt, so this EWR is for just the tip: $2.
• Now we go back to Sunday, March 29, where I laid into ****e.  She was unstable on this day, sadly.  She called me while I was still driving to her place asking me where the hell I am.  Her cock-sucking wasn't as on point as it has been in the past.  And after we got done fucking and I laid in bed all tuckered out, she took my underwear and socks and placed them in a pile next to what what was either clothes she was going to launder or trash she was going to throw away.  I was glad I was getting dressed before she did anything to it.  But when I grabbed my boxers, I saw that they were right above a wad of either wet toilet paper or paper towels either she cleaned up the bathroom with or I used to wipe up all my cum.  There was a huge wet spot on the boxers, and I needed to wear them because I was going to a brewery afterward.  I asked ****e if I could use a hair dryer, and that did the trick.  But this is the first time something like this happened.  Whatever; I'm thinking of seeing her again next weekend.  Price: $120.
• So this brewery is doing this thing where I could bring in a Minnesota United jersey and they would remove the Target logo in the front and replace it with the Rebel Loon, a symbol of the Twin Cities' resilience and defiance in the wake of this Republican government's oppression earlier in the year.  I waited and had an early dinner and beer while they were hacking my replica Loons jersey.  But for some reason I couldn't use my card to pay for this service.  Thankfully I had enough cash on me to do it: $30.
• Back further to Monday, March 23, the date of my alma mater getting their butts handed to them by South Carolina.  Our Game-watching bar charges extra when you pay by credit card, so I now pay by cash as often as I can, and I did so on this night.  With tip: $40.
• Sunday the 22nd was the last day Hotters at The Mall Of America was open.  Sad, sad day.  Glad I got there when I did; they got so busy, and they got so cleaned out, that they closed their doors at 6 even though they usually close on Sundays at 10, I think.  Oh, and when I asked if there was any food available, my Hooters girl said they still had burger patties.  Not burger buns, but patties.  And shit, I almost ordered one.  But I settled on my Big Daddy-size Bud Light and the two shirts they still had on sale.  Didn't think I wanted such memorabilia, but when one shirt was only five bucks and another server came around saying the other shirt, really a cancer-themed crop top, was only a buck, well, I had to jump at the chance.  My last total I spent at the Megamall MOA, with tip: $40.
• And on my way out I think I saw a Girl Scout Cookies stand.  That's where I bought the Lemonades.  Glad it was a Girl Scout who did the sale and not her mom; these kids are supposed to learn how to sell and do business, right?  Paid: $6.
• Back to Saturday, March 14 ... a fellow alumni's kid is in this covers rock band.  The band is really good, and I saw on Facebook that they were playing at a brewpub close to me.  I stayed there until the snowstorm everyone was dreading started to look really bad.  But before I left I left tips for the young whippersnappers: $4.
• Shit, man, now we're really going back ... to Sunday, February 22, in fact, when I went to the Heights for the first time since I think the theater got new owners.  I went to see Battleship Potemkin, a silent film classic I have wanted to see for a long time.  It was accompanied by a solo musician who played the piano.  What I wasn't expecting was her to use a snare drum and a crash cymbal.  I have seen a silent film once or twice with a full band, but never have I heard percussion used -- but it was a very, very welcomed new experience.  Paid for the ticket with my credit card, so this total is for the popcorn, pop, and tipping the concession stand: $13.
• On Saturday the 21st I got a shave from the local barber school.  The person shaving me acted like he didn't give a shit, so I didn't give much of a tip.  See, this is why I'm willing to pay five times as much to get my face shaved.  Or, maybe I should just do it myself again.  With tip: $12.
• For Valentine's Day I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Version) to see my ATF.  Where else would I go on February 14?  So glad she was there working; she had said she didn't know if she was going to take the day off.  Cover, tips, drinks from me and ******a and 20 table dances from her ... well, I see that I didn't write the total amount down after I left the club, so I'm just going to pull an amount out of my ass and say that I spent: $230.
• Sunday, February 8: Went to Grandpa Joe's (formerly Blue Sun Soda Shop) to get some premium ginger beer and ginger ale for the cocktails I wanted to make.  I also grabbed a bottle of RC and a bottle of root beer from some company.  Six bottles that cost: $14.33.
• I think later that day, *****y came over to wank me: $150.
• Finally, on Sunday, February 1, ******e came over to wank me: $120.

Yes, I keep saying this: I need to do these more frequently.  Done through April 9.

Goddamn, Car Trouble Fucks Everything Up

Man, don't you hate it when you have to stop everything just because of car trouble?  OK, I am exaggerating what happened and didn't happen yesterday/Tuesday, but it's still a pain in the ass.

So I go out to sleep in my car at work for my lunch break.  My paranoid eyes always makes me think I'm seeing something that's not there, but on this day, they latched onto something unusual and, turns out, scary: A bulge/blister/bump on my passenger-side tire.  Honestly, I didn't think anything of it.  I just thought I needed to deflate the air in that overinflated tire (didn't help), and then I went inside my car to nap.  But that bubble concerned me anyway, so I had to go to my cell and Google, "is it dangerous to have a bump on the side of your tire?"  And all the entries in the search said, "Hell yes, it's fucking dangerous!"

(Aside: I seem to have more problems with tires on this car than I ever had with my old one.  Is it because it's a subcompact whose tires are naturally lower profile?  I remember getting one of my tires punctured the Friday before Labor Weekend, and now this.  By the way, that bubble is probably the result of hitting one pothole, or one too many potholes.  Goddamn potholes.)

After making a couple calls to see if I could get a tire after work, I decided that after work I needed to swap out that tire for the spare.  But dammit, my mechanic screwed those lug nuts in so tight I couldn't loosen them.  I did not believe at all that I needed to call AAA, but because I am too weak, I had to.  Luckily, even during afternoon rush hour traffic and him helping me being led astray by his Google Maps, the guy who was about to save me arrived at work after one hour.  The last time I called AAA (and I think it was when I had to stop the minivan around St. Thomas for what was a broken alternator), it was at least twice that long.  And after using WD-40 and a long-handle lug nut remover to get as much torque working, he got the bad tire off.  Roadside assistants are angels, they truly are.

Also angels are, I now realize, the only car mechanic in the neighborhood that's open evenings.  Why aren't there more car shops that are open evenings, or weekends for that matter?  Cars don't break down at night or on weekends?  Anyway, the place I babied my car to was the only one around the area open at 7 at night.  And even though they couldn't get the same exact tire for me that evening, they can do so this morning.  Also, they did what I asked them to: Check the other tires to make sure they're fine, and to check the air pressure on the spare (even though I asked the roadside assistant to check and to pump it up.  I always forget to check the air in the spare).

So I talked about having plans ruined.  Specifically, I wanted to eat at either Culver's or Potbelly, two places where I can get free dessert for my birthday.  I then wanted to go home, look through the mail, call Mother about the mail if need be, then maybe nap before I caught the 8 o'clock showing of Ready Or Not 2: Here I Come.  But after I got everything arranged for the (hopefully) quick tire swap this morning, I got my car back, spare tire still affixed, and I still had time to make the movie.  I didn't feel completely safe that I could drive to the theater to watch when I could, and maybe should, drive back home.  But a mixture of relief that people were able to help me and defiance that I didn't want my car trouble to stop me from the fun I planned on having compelled me to get to the movie.  And I made it in time.  And the film was ... um, bloody and profane, but OK, just like the first one.

One problem after I left the shop and before I went into the theater.  I locked the door with the key fob, but I didn't see the light flicker on indicating everything got locked.  I then noticed that the hood was slightly open.  Now I noticed when I was at the shop, looking through the window into the bay where the mechanics were looking at my car, that the hood was opened up, presumably for the guys to go through their customary check of everything in my car even though I was just there to get a tire replaced.  I didn't think anything else of it, though, because I assumed they would slam the hood shut.  But they didn't.  I didn't drive really fast; you're not supposed to on a spare, plus I used side streets to get from the mechanic to the theater.  But I realized that I drove several miles with the hood open.  The hood of my old car flew open while I was driving to the gym a baker's dozen years ago, and that was the scariest fucking thing that's happened to me on the road ... well, OK, maybe top five.  My point is is that it seems very, very dangerous to drive with the hood open.  I don't think anything got ruined, and yet I feel my car is beyond repair because I drove it with the hood open.  Look, if anything did get damaged, I probably won't know till much, much later.  Fuckin' A, man -- these guys were quick, and they treated me well.  But they fucking forgot to slam my fuckin' hood shut?!

No, I probably won't bring it up.  Again, if there's damage because I drove with the hood open, how would I know?  Oh, well, you take the head-slappingly bad with the good when you're in a jam.  Hopefully they can just get me my new tire and do so quickly and easily.

Help Me, Bill Shatner, I'm Not Regular!

At the college baseball Games yesterday/Saturday, I had coffee before the first Game, had a cheeseburger, fries and a beer between the first and second (aside: They screwed up my order ... I ordered a cheeseburger, I overheard someone order just a hamburger [even though a hamburger isn't on the menu and I don't ever ask for modifications from ordering food at a Game], someone was about to give me a cheeseburger but then yanked it back to swap it with a hamburger ... when I told the workers I wanted cheese, someone in the back just threw a cold slice of cheddar on top of the burger ... I saw the cheeseburger they were about to give me; that cheese was melted ... lazy bums), and a hot dog and a souvenir Wild Cherry Pepsi between the second and third.  And then, once the Games were done, I stopped by Taco Bell.

You know what this should mean, right?  Colon blow, stuff like that.  Nope.  I am not regular.  It's bothering me to no end.  Maybe the spaghetti I'm about to make will do the trick, but the trick should already have been done.

Now, about relieving yourself: Have you seen that cereal commercial with William Shatner?  The one where he calls himself "Will Shat?"  I believe this ad, which aired in the Super Bowl, is a sign of the end times:

I blame Trump.  But sheepishly I admit that I really, really want to try this to regulate my gut.  It's for Kellogg's Raisin Bran, by the way.  I rarely remember what memorable commercials advertise for.

Hello, City Workers, And Goodbye, Tree Stump

So almost three weeks ago I was woken up by a city surveyor who I thought was ICE, but really just wanted access to my gas meter so he and his co-worker could mark the gas and water lines on my front yard when people come back and grind the stump of the diseased tree that had to be removed.  He said people would come by the following week.  I called the city the next day to make sure they are who they said they were, and the person I spoke to said the following week was being optimistic.

The person I called was right; they didn't come the following week.  But they came yesterday/Monday morning.  Like, kind of early.  Like, I was hitting the snooze button for the first time when I heard some people talking outside.  It wasn't distracting, but I didn't hear such loud talking at 7:10 in the morning.  Just after I hit the snooze button for the second time, I heard this loud machine noise from what I thought was just down the street.  That was enough to convince me getting just a few more winks of shuteye wasn't in the cards, so I got up, and went to the bathroom -- to pee, of course, but to also look outside to see what was the matter.  And that's when I saw two dudes on my front yard.  One of them was standing a few feet from to this chest-high partition that was surrounding the stump, and another on a payloader with a stump grinder on the front, grinding away on the tree stump.

I go out and, as someone who didn't expect anyone to see a dude working on his front yard at 7:30 in the morning, wave to the guy standing.  "Good morning!" the nice man waved back.  Yep, totally normal.  Also totally normal to back down the driveway and then drive in reverse around the huge dump truck parked askance so I had to be careful that there wasn't another car driving through from the other side because I could've hit them.  But hey, I'm just glad they weren't there to abduct me and whisk me down to Whipple.

Came back in the early evening and the stump was gone.  The person with the city I spoke to on the phone said there was a possibility that the workers would throw grass seed where the stump was to get the grass growing process started, but there wasn't any, and I think that's because the ground is still too cold.  But it does appear like they threw dirt on it.  I touched the hole the stump left behind.  I have never felt dirt that soft, to be honest.

Weird how it all came about, and I do feel bad about the tree, and the circle of dirt left behind isn't aesthetically pleasing.  But hey, I don't mind seeing my tax dollars at work.

I Was Afraid The Masseuse Made Me Sick

So last week, because I hadn't had one in so long, I needed one, and just to get away for some me time, I got a massage.  And for the first time in a long time, I went to the massage place close to my house, not downtown.  They're cheaper out there, and so I didn't mind indulging $200+ for the first two-hour massage I've ever had.

Problem was the masseuse.  I've had her before, once before.  She is the second masseuse I've used at this place.  The first one was a revelation: Strong hands, she knew where to untie all my knots, and she was so cool to talk to, both informative with what she was doing as well as friendly when we were making small talk.  I have tried for the longest time to get her again, for years actually, but when I try to schedule her online, she's not available.  This reservation system shows the first date she is available, and it's the damnedest thing, but it says she isn't available for months, literally months.  She's great, but I can't believe she's that in demand.  This massage place is in an office park in the suburbs, for crissake.

So the one I had last week was the second time I've had this other masseuse.  She's good, but the first time I had her, she walked in with a cane.  I couldn't believe someone who has trouble walking would do massages, and I was wrong, she was very powerful with her hands as well.  But the juxtaposition kind of stayed with me, and in a bad way, even though she did nothing wrong.

Last week I was desperate for a rubdown, so I went to this place, which I hadn't been to in more than a year, and I got this second masseuse because the first one was still booked out months in advance.  So imagine my surprise when I got to the office park (I was asked on a voicemail left for me if I was willing to move up my reservation; I called back and said work was probably going to keep me where I was at; I only got there ten minutes before my scheduled time) and saw both masseuses just sitting there.  I was going to ask the first masseuse why she was there and when can I get a massage from her, but that would've been rude to the second masseuse who ushered me into the room.

I can't complain that the two-hour massage was bad.  Time actually dragged, which is something weird to say when you're theoretically being pampered like this.  Also, I was face down for half the time, and in the end there my face really began to hurt.  I can't sit face down like that for long, and that's something I need to be cognizant about.  Maybe two hours is a bit too long.

But -- and again, the massage itself was very relaxing -- this masseuse kind of bugged me even more.  There are two reasons that I can recall (although I thought I had one or two more complaints about her but forgot).  One, she inadvertently knocked me in the back of the head a few times with her forearms.  Not relaxing.  Two, and worse, she had three or four really nasty coughing fits during our session.  She said that she was doing that because the cleaning lady was around.  I don't buy that.  I think she had something, and for a few days after the massage I felt like I caught that nasty something from her.  I don't think I got sick, but still, having a masseuse get into several coughing fits without doing all she can to cover her mouth puts a lie to the tranquil, antiseptic atmosphere that is the ideal environment for a rubdown.

So, will I go back to her, and this place?  Probably, though probably not for a while.  Massages are expensive.  Plus, I still cannot fathom how this first masseuse is booked months in advance when she was just sitting around when I came in, and a piece of me wants to ask questions about that.  But, maybe this second masseuse will be healthier when I get a massage from her again.

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.

Expenses Without Receipts

Starting from Wednesday, October 15:

• Well, we have to go back to Monday, October 13, when I finally made it out to *****e's party.  Partly it's because I have been told to cut down on the OT.  Partly it was because *****e has been so damn persistent.  But mostly it's because **y was going to work the party.  I don't want to spill all the details here, but let's just say that I got what I wanted in way less than an hour.  And even though I really can't spend the money I spent (for cover and a "bed fee" as well as the service rendered), I have to say it was well spent: $235.
• We go back to Saturday, October 11, where I got my car washed.  When was the last time I got the car washed?  Anyway, I got it washed on my way to watching my alma mater defeat Michigan.  I was afraid that there would be a huge line, but there was no car at all when I pulled in.  Maybe the last hour on a weekend fall day is a slow one for car washes.  I was impressed by the customer service by these guys this day.  I was bringing a box of free stuff for the game-watching event, and one asked if I wanted to put the box back in after they finished vacuuming the interior.  No thanks, I brought it in with me as the car was going through the exterior wash, but I appreciate it.  Then, after they were all done, the guy opened the back door for me to put the box in.  I paid cash for the whole thing, so including tip, this was: $31.46.
• While watching the game I had a Pepsi, an Angry Orchard, chicken wings and a giant pretzel.  I guess I didn't get any of these things during their happy hour, but I was surprised by how much I spent.  With tip: $56.
• And to heck with it ... even though I know for a fact that my sister gave me this money the day before (Friday, October 10), I'm including it on October 11 because I was using cash all day.  I am not sure why she gave me money.  Was it for the late dinner we had after our successful run out of the escape room?  An Infusion of: $10.
• ETA on Friday, October 17 at 11:09 a.m. that I totally forgot that I went to see Bride of Frankenstein Monday, September 29.  It was a surprise sold-out show, but thankfully, I got in through the waitlist.  I can see why it was a classic, but the part that stands out to me?  Only 75 minutes long.  I hate that I don't remember jotting down how much I spent.  I know I used cash for the ticket, popcorn, pop and tips to the concessions and the organist.  I think it was a total of: $31.
• Let's go back to Saturday, September 27, where I just needed to be on my own and decided to go to the Black Hart because I haven't seen an MNUFC Match there in quite some time.  (The bar, by the way, is running a game-watching contest where they give up prizes halfway and at the end of the regular season.  The more times you watch a Game there, the more chances you can win.)  They run a special on Fulton Lonely Blonde, so I got a glass of that on this night.  With tip: $7.
• To Tuesday the 23rd ... needed to use my Hooters coupon for the month of September, so I went down there ... only to be told that they have no offer like that on their menu.  So why in the hell do I have a coupon for it?  I don't think the Hooters corporation really knows what's going on in all of their departments.  Anyway, I sat and ate anyway, so plus tip I spent: $28.
• On Tuesday the 16th I went to ******e's new place in the afternoon, where she wanked me: $120.
• And I also forgot I saw another classic movie at my local arthouse theater Monday the 15th: The Great Dictator.  It was billed according to the theater as "possibly the most important comedy of all time."  That billing isn't wrong; it stands up and sticks to our current mess, almost in haunting echoes.  I think I charged money for the popcorn and pop, so this EWR is for the ticket and the tips to concessions and the organist.  I spent in cash I think: $17.
• Back to Tuesday, September 9 -- had to visit my downtown Game-watching bar to let management know we're coming in that Saturday.  Ate and drank there.  With tip: $16.
• Friday the 5th: Went to a house party where I got double-teamed by *****y and *****a.  I have been serviced by both before -- I have even gone all the way with *****a once -- but not together.  And to be honest, I think I was hustled into spending way more money than I wanted to.  First of all, *****y just asked *****a to be part of our bed dance.  Then, even though I got all naked, they didn't do anything with my pee-pee.  We were spending too much time at the bed and I got the feeling they were just going to stop.  Finally, I think I agreed to the price I think I needed to meet for them to both wank me: $150 apiece.  I didn't even have that much cash on me; I needed to Venmo *****a the rest of the $150 I owed her.  But they finally put hands to penis, and I'm glad that two women I have seen for years did a tandem HJ on me.  But I was reminded yet again that sometimes, *****y wants to extract more money from me when I don't want to.  Other strippers don't do that, and even though they're not as gorgeous as *****y is, I don't have to deal with that bullshit.  Total: $250.
• The Powerball jackpot cleared a billion (at least), and I needed to get Powerball tickets for the family: $10.
• And Father paid me back for the Powerball tickets I got for him in previous days; I know he did not pay me back on September 5, I'm just putting it here.  An Infusion of: $10.
• Finally, back on Tuesday, September 2, I saw the reboot of The Naked Gun.  I remember laughing my ass off to the original (movie at least; I know the old The Naked Gun was based on a short-lived TV show), and I think my younger self would love the new one, even though it's still difficult to picture Oskar Schindler as a slapstick comedian.  It was a neat diversion, though, filled with zingers and one-liners that comedies just don't do these days.  The local theater has half-off tickets on Tuesdays and Wednesdays (at least for now), and I took advantage of that: $4.32.

Good through October 15.

It took me two fucking weeks to finally find an eye appointment at The Mall Closest To Me ... and I showed up late.  I thought I had time to get cash and buy motor oil, but goddammit, apparently it took me 19 fucking minutes to drive six fucking miles, and then it took me another five goddamn minutes to get to the eye shop.

The worst part about it is that they actually enforced my no-show.  I was afraid they wouldn't, but I don't remember the last time anybody did.  Maybe when I showed up late at my test scoring job?  But they turned me away.  And I barely hid my frustration.  I mean, you can still fucking do my eye exam, can't you?  But no, and I guess I could've come earlier, whatever.

I paid money for vision insurance this year, and I might as well use it, but obviously the year's getting late.  And I'm not going back to this place -- not after how they treated me, even if I guess it was my fault.  So I'm going to another mall and their eye shop.  Unfortunately, it'll be a month from now.  I should get there in plenty of time, and then I'll just, like, walk around.  Anything to get this damn eye exam in.

Roadtripping Into Wisconsin

So Father has a winning Mega Millions ticket he got through the Wisconsin Lottery.  I don't know how in the hell did he wind up in Wisconsin back in October, but he did, and there's four bucks we might not get back if we don't cash it in.

Meanwhile, one of my stripper girlfriends, *****y, moved back to her hometown of Stillwater.  She has invited me to her place for some sexy time, but it was difficult to find a time this summer to do it.  

However, today/Saturday is perfect, at least according to *****y.  I will go out there some time in the afternoon for my HJ, and as long as I am out there, I might as well drive across the border and into Wisconsin to cash that ticket.  I'll get some Powerball tickets for Father while I'm out there.  And who knows, I might as well go into a liquor store and buy some Spotted Cow.

My plans initially were to get my eyes checked at the local mall, go see *****y, head across the border, come back to have lunch around Stillwater, then come back to cash in on some free Chick-Fil-A nuggets and maybe get a couple juices at the grocery store.  But the local mall closed appointments earlier this week, then *****y shifted our session back a couple hours, and then (and I'm not completely proud of this) I looked at the Google reviews of the liquor store I thought I would go get beers and lottery tickets at and the couple that were written were pretty down on the place.  One of them said that the cashier would steal your lottery money.

So I just searched for a better place to get liquor, and it's down in Hudson, several miles south of Stillwater.  So now the plan is to immediately jump the border, get some liquor, drive to a gas station (apparently Circle Ks are big in Wisconsin, at least in western Wisconsin) to cash in and then buy tickets, then eat Mexican, then get my freak on and then do my shopping closer to home.  All the while I'll be putting some serious miles and wear on my car, but I'm not worried since I got it serviced a couple weeks ago.  If it somehow breaks down so soon after maintenance, it's not worth keeping.

Wish me luck that all of this is not hectic, but fun.

The High Of The Timberwolves, The Low Of Taco Bell, The Consistency Of Nature Calling

So I went out to a brewery that began to show Timberwolves playoff Games outside on their parking lot, and it has gotten a huge following.  There were about 150 people who saw the Wolves erupt in the Third Quarter to beat The Bastard Philadelphia Warriors and take a 3-1 lead in their Western Conference Semifinals series.  Awesome!

So, what do I do when I want to celebrate?  I eat!  Even though I had to slices of pizza at the brewery, I picked up Taco Bell.  And I ate it.  And I feel like I need to evacuate my bowels for the second time tonight, this after evacuating my bowels at work yesterday/Monday morning.  (For the record, I went to McDonald's and spent points that were about to expire June 1 on a sausage burrito.  Never before has that triggered my excretory system, but Sunday night I ate rice and lettuce that's been sitting in the fridge for more than a week.  Some combination of those foods contributed to my time in the bathroom at work, just as Taco Bell is doing the same right now.)  I need to go to bed, but I don't think my excretory system will let me.

Oh, and this came after I had a pretty crappy customer service experience at the TB drive-thru.  I waited at the window for five minutes as the server was looking at a tablet and punching keys into the cash register.  After that, she just shoved a bag in my face.  No "sorry to keep you waiting," no "here you go."  Complete silence.  I don't apologize for being big on manners, and that was, well rude.  I was better off not getting Taco Bell tonight -- for that and for, well, me needing to go to the bathroom again.

Why I Prefer Self-Checkout

OK, calm down, cashier.  What I meant to say was that are you OK if I take my shopping cart, go back to get the packs of water that is on sale and just walk through and past the checkout line.  You obviously didn't let me finish because after I said, "Leave the waters here, take the cart back to get the correct ones ..." you had to jump in and say, "Yeah, that's why I told you to leave the waters there."  You really think I was just going to leave the cart and drag the bottles of water on sale from the back of the store to my car?

Maybe I'm wrong about his tone.  Maybe I shouldn't take things so defensively.  But maybe I need to reconsider where I do my grocery shopping because, once again, I had a bit of a run-in with someone there.  Shit, man, please don't make me go back to Target just because I can go check out myself.

Expenses Without Receipts

Starting from Monday, March 31:

• Welp, I'll have to leap all the way back to my birthday, when I gave myself a birthday gift of an HJ from ******e at her place in south Minneapolis.  Glad to see I can pud out when coaxed.  And she didn't overcharge me this time either: $120.
• After getting drained I walked over to Matt's Bar.  The Jucy Lucy has such a worldwide reputation that a group of people from outside the country asked for a table -- "four guys from France," they confessed.  Well, bonjour!  Jucy Lucy, half order of fries, Coke and tip: $22.
• On Tuesday the 11th I may have had the worst shave of my life at the school there.  The guy kind of didn't give a shit about me.  He cut me up in a couple of places on my face.  I think he stopped during my shave to give himself a shave.  And he finished off the session by squirting alcohol all over my eyes as well as my cheeks.  I'm trying not to think this was due to malevolence, but to make sure, I am staying away from this place -- and instead paying a lot more money for a shave -- for the next half-year, just to make sure he's moved on before I come back there.  I don't remember the last time I only tipped two bucks, but hey, he deserved it.  Total cost: $11.
• This was the day ****e* went to my house to clean.  I offered to get her dinner.  She wanted Potbelly.  She was going to subtract the cost of the sandwich from her cleaning job, but I spent, with tip: $7.48.
• Meanwhile, as she was about to start, we were talking in the bathroom.  And like it was no big deal, she started to take her clothes off in front of me.  She usually changes into her cleaning clothes, so it's not quite like that.  But I don't know if she was doing it in front of me absentmindedly or if she felt that, because she has been naked for me when she was a stripper, she just felt comfortable changing clothes in front of me.  Still, she has never let me see her change clothes, so I instinctively started touching myself.  I should've pulled down my pants and started masturbating in front of her, but I really needed her to clean the house.  Anyway, she once again did a fantastic job, and I'm glad she was able to take care of the house after more than a year away.  Cost: $240.
• Friday, March 7 ... went to My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Version) for one last fling before my parents came home.  Cover, twenty dances with my ATF, drinks for her and for me, and tips, and it all came out to: $240.
• Tuesday, March 4: Saw my first movie in a while, the latest in the MCU, Captain America: Brave New World.  It's ... fine, but the entire series is lacking direction since Endgame.  But I still try and catch every film because I am story-committed.  Price of the ticket: $5.42.
• And now, back to Wednesday, February 26, when I got lottery tickets for Father: $20.
• Later that evening I participated in a volunteer effort spearheaded by, of all people, my financial advisor.  I have never met him, but this was a meal-packing event that was only ten minutes away from home, so I figure that after other e-mails from him inviting me to other volunteer opportunities, I should finally introduce myself.  It was nice, and afterward we went to a nearby restaurant to eat -- all on his company's dime!  I should've bought more food and took some home.  Anyway, I donated to the organization we volunteered at: $5.

Good through March 31.

Runnin' On Empty

No, I do not regret pulling ten hours of work yesterday/Saturday and instead rolling in after watching the EPL in downtown Minneapolis.  I was treated very well, I ate quite well, I had a Bloody Mary for the first time in a long time and it was delish, and, most important of all, I stationed myself at a table where I could see both Matches that were put up in the two TVs in the main room, Arsenal 0-1 West Ham (to my left) and Ipswich Town 1-4 Tottenham Hotspur (to my right).  Drilling down specifically on that point, I was also able to catch all six Goals that went in between the two Games.  I didn't miss one because I was looking down at the breakfast poutine I ordered for myself, to give an example.  Missing a Goal because I wasn't actively looking at the TV at the time a goal went is one of those pet peeves that piss me off, so I'm glad that did not happen this time around.  In fact, seeing the Goals as they went in makes me feel as though I made the right decision to watch soccer in the morning.

Got done at work (well, with all the work that was sent out to us; there is still a lot of work to catch up on, but there weren't enough people to get through all the late work, so I think the supervisor in there called it a day like any normal day) a bit past 4:30.  I thought we would be staying late.  But, since we didn't, I got to veg at Northern Soda Company, which is less than five minutes from work.  I had one of their craft sodas and slushie, and trust me, I am so sugared out that I should be drinking tea.  That didn't stop me from eating a fritter just now to end my day, but yeah, I am not the sugar-high addict I was when I was a childhood.  I feel as though I need to have my foot amputated.

Anyway, I was able to get home and stay awake, even though I am tired as all get out.  I can feel myself crashing, however, so before something bad happens, I want to publish this blog post, brush my teeth, then fall asleep.  If my gas tank isn't empty, I am certainly running on fumes.

They Did Reply. And Somehow, I Saw It.

So I had to get my timing chain changed in January of 2024, way sooner than I needed to.  Apparently, my car is the subject of a Technical Service Bulletin, or TSB, which maps out problems that appear to be affecting all vehicles of a certain make and model, even though this is not a recall, where cars are supposed to be brought back to dealerships as soon as possible to get a problem fixed.  (I don't know if the difference is the number of vehicles that are estimated to have this problem, the severity of the problem, something else entirely, or a combination of factors.)

There was another TSB for my model that my car actually suffered from, namely a defective starter.  I think I was so incensed at the time that I sent a letter to the car company about this forced replacement -- and, to my big surprise, I not only got a reply but some compensation.  So, even though it took me a long, long time to get around to it, I finally went to the library during Limbo Week (the days between Christmas and New Year's Day) to type out a letter complaining about the bad timing chain and sent it.

And then I didn't hear anything.  For a long while.  I forgot about it, but once I remembered, I remembered that I sent it so long ago that, if they hadn't replied by now, they probably threw it away.  Honestly, I wasn't going to pursue it.  I just have too much on my mind, what with my country willingly falling into dictatorship and all, and besides, if they don't reply, what else could I do?

Thank Buddha, then, that I just decided to look through my spam folder before I went to bed Tuesday night/Wednesday morning.  I kept scrolling through all the fundraising e-mails that didn't go into my inbox and saw my car company and what looked to be a case number.  I opened it up and it said, and I'm paraphrasing, "We got your letter and would like to talk about it.  However, if you don't call and reply within five days of this e-mail we will close this matter."

The e-mail was sent Monday, and I left a message yesterday/Wednesday afternoon.  I hope they reply today, but if not, I hope to remember to call again while at work.  But I think about my very fortuitous fortune in finding this e-mail.  It was sent five, six weeks ago.  The reply was shunted into my spam folder.  I just so happened to go through that spam folder, and I don't think I had a reason as to why.  There were so many circumstances that could, even should, have meant that I would not get a chance to get money out of this defective timing chain.  But it looks like I will get that chance after all.

Sorry I Didn't Say Goodbye To You!

So after work last/Thursday night I thought I would treat myself to a visit to the speakeasy I like to go to.  I want to remain familiar with the people who serve me cocktails, and it was great.  There's this one bartender who's great.  Just like before, we talked about stuff while she whipped me up some killer drinks.  She's a cool chick.

But as I was winding down my visit, which was about 105 minutes long, I guess I started to space out from having a couple drinks.  I was soaking the atmosphere in, people watching, seeing the now two bartenders sling cocktails.  Didn't even look at my phone once while I was there, which is almost an impossibility.  But I guess I was too busy soaking it all in, because I heard a faint, "Bye!" and I continued to space out, not knowing that the server I was talking to was cut and left at 8.

Now I feel bad.  We have a rapport, and we chatted it up.  I just didn't know that she was leaving, else I would have totally said goodbye back.  Instead I was just ... I don't know, looking around and stuff.  Not saying goodbye back isn't very mannerly of me.  Does she think I'm a dick?  I hope not.  I just wasn't, you know, paying attention.

She must think I'm a dick.

Haven't Been In A Library For This Long In A Long Time

I was kind of grumbling in my last blog post that I have a lot of stuff I have to do here in the library, where I am typing this.  But you know, at least I am feeling productive.  Well, kind of.  The dental claim health form I will have to upload at home because I don't remember my login information.  And I am debating whether or not it even makes sense to send this letter to the company of the make of my car in the hopes it'll give me some financial compensation.

I will be here for an hour pretty soon, and I don't remember the last time I have been in a library for that long.  But you know, it ain't that bad here.  The couple to my left right now is being kind of loud, but they're debating something, so it's not as bad as the people who are just sitting in front of a computer talking loudly into their cellphones.  Also, I am recalling a bunch of skeets on Bluesky extolling the virtues of libraries, and how you should sign up for a library card even if you have no plans to use it.  Yes, libraries are good, even vital places for the community.  They should be preserved, celebrated, and funded.

I should go back to work.

They're Still Lacking

I was worried about upselling ... and they did.  And I fell for it.

So when I went through the garage I passed by this gate.  It had these machines on the side and this contraption on the bottom.  I thought they were studs that raise up that blows the tires of anyone backing up out of the garage, if you know what I mean.  But when I got this illustration from the customer service rep, it turned out it was something else: A machine that checks for the alignment of the car.  And, according to this machine, my car's left driver's-side ... uh, camber was off.  Or something.

The rep said looking at it and fixing it would cost $160.  And I said sure.  Why?  (sigh) I guess they're not wrong.  But damn, this still just feels like a way to nickel-and-dime me.  By the way, they seemed to have fixed it, but after I got my car back the rep said that there was something else wrong and they couldn't quite fix it, so they knocked off sixty bucks, so the extra charge (beyond the spare key fob) was only $100.  Guess it could be worse, but I'm still out $100 more than I originally planned?

Oh, by the way, although I asked, the rep didn't tell me how much oil was in my car when I gave it to them.  Instead, they checked it after they got done with it.  They said it was "full."  Sure, but what was it when I gave you my car?  The rep was nice, but I'm still not completely happy with the dealership.

Never Follow Sports

Have I told you the Game I went to to see my alma mater over Labor Weekend was, like, one of the 20 best days of my life?  It was a great vacation.  And, to be honest, it was a great vacation because my team won.  If they had lost, I would have been glad to stay a holiday weekend in Las Vegas, of course, but it wouldn't have been the same.  (That pessimistic prospect didn't stop me, of course; I had a discount I needed to use through SeatGeek.)

My mood is dependent on the sports teams I follow.  Sad, very sad, but true.  My alma mater lost yesterday/Saturday in the worst way possible: Getting blown out early, then coming back to lead, only to blow that lead and lose.  Losing big and losing close are pits of hell only separated by type, not degree, and it felt like my team lost twice.  And I'm not in a good mood, quite frankly.

I had a notable interaction with a cashier at the Hard Rock Cafe's memorabilia store in Vegas the afternoon before going to the Game.  She noticed a lot of people were wearing cardinal like me as well as purple for the other team.  She asked me what was going on, and I told her I was going to a big Game at the Raiders stadium.  And then, while giving me back the pin I bought, she says something like, "Oh, I see.  Well, I don't follow sports, so I didn't know what is going on."

And so I replied with something like: "Good.  That's a good thing.  It's not good for you."  If I had time to think up a more articular answer, I would have said, "Good.  You don't want your mood to depend on how your sports teams do."  I was right.  I am right.  And even though things broke my way out in Las Vegas, they didn't yesterday, and I'm letting it make me feel bad and pissed right now.

Too late for me now.  I'll be addicted to sports till the day I die.

When Am I Gonna Leave Again?

So at work yesterday/Monday I had to deal with a client who says she doesn't need to give a piece of information I need in order to help her with what she wants.  She is being incessant, pesky, even exasperated.  And here I am thinking I'm taking crazy pills not moving forward with this unless and until she gives me what I need.

Or think I need.  Neither my supervisor or boss was working yesterday/Monday, so I forwarded the e-mail containing this snippy retort to them.  I was hoping they would take time out of their days off to help me, but it's understandable they didn't.  More likely, they'll come in to work (I think they'll come in to work before me), see the e-mail, and take care of it.  And dammit, if I did something wrong -- and, in particular, if I shouldn't have held things up -- I will definitely hear about it.

When I took this job I didn't know customer service was going to be something I needed to do.  Then, when blindsided that, yes, I will need to talk to people I don't know, I felt boxed in.  Ultimately, I decided to stay on because hey, I need the pay and the benefits.  Then, I figured this is OK because I'm dealing with a pool of people who know what I need in order for me to help them, not a bunch of strangers who are going to rip my head off because they don't know me.

That familiarity is reaching its end point, I feel.  There are people to whom I need to contact that I still have not spoken to ever.  And as few and far between the run-ins are, they still accumulate, and this issue is yet another one.  It is getting exhausting to deal with, and this is yet another reason for me to get off my butt and look for another line of work.

By the way, I took a quick peek into LinkedIn.  Some intriguing ones, and I think a few of them are full-time, but some of the companies I have never heard of.  Can any fly-by-night companies just come on to LinkedIn and offer jobs that may not be real?

Got Burned By SeatGeek ... In A Way

I just checked my e-mail ... finally got an answer back from SeatGeek.  He just reiterated that the promo code is a one-time use one, so that I need to find something that costs at least $151 that I can use.  Oh, and he totally ignored what the other SeatGeek rep said, that I was able to use that promo code more than once if an event I wanted to pay for cost less than $151that I was able to use that promo code more than once if an event I wanted to pay for cost less than $151.

I am upset.  I was told that I could break up the credit into more than one event, and I'm told that I can't.  I will remind this person who just e-mailed me that his co-worker told me something different -- what the hell happened?  But ... now that I think about it, maybe this won't be that much of a problem.  You see, my alma mater's football team has a huge Game to kick off their season in Las Vegas Labor Eve.  My parents have a place there.  Flights to Vegas are plentiful, and they might be reasonable, even if it is a holiday.  And tickets are more than the $151 threshold I need to use that promo code.  It might be financially feasible to take a quick jaunt out to Vegas to watch my college football team and use the promo code, especially if I can catch a break on the price of the ticket.  In that sense, getting the credit broken into two or three pieces would in fact be unwieldy because I then would've needed to find two or three events for which to use them on, and I can't guarantee I would be able to find them.

Still, I've been misled, and I have to yell at SeatGeek about that.  Unfortunately there's nothing I can do, I'm afraid.  This is the company that holds my MNUFC season-ticketholder account.