Expenses Without Receipts

Starting from Sunday, May 31:

• Fucked ****e.  Maybe I shouldn't have done it after getting wanked by ***e*, but I already promised ****e.  I wish I had given myself more time to recuperate.  Total: $120.
• Saturday the 30th ... said HJ from ***e*.  "Responded" perfectly fine.  Total: $120.
• In the afternoon I went to the barber school to get a shave.  Seeing some from high school whom I haven't seen since high school, and I reckon I should clean myself up a bit, even if I'll have a week's worth of stubble on my face.  With tip: $12.
• I then went to Nelson's Cheese for a chicken wrap, a medium corn bacon chowder, and a bottle of RC Cola.  I said that the corn bacon chowder was a diuretic for the ice cream I had the night before, but it was a very tasty diuretic.  It was expensive, so the I gave back all the change from the $20 I handed over, so I spent: $20.
• On Thursday the 28th I went to the Moonwater Gin Bar, specifically for the sushi pop-up.  I'm still on a high from the yellowtail tuna I had.  While I tipped through the receipt, for some reason the restaurant-within-the-restaurant also had fishbowls out asking for tips for both the itamae and the wait staff.  I kind of think it's overkill, but hey, I was totally happy with everybody and everything there, so I tossed in three bucks in both bowls, so the total comes out to: $6.
• Back to Sunday, May 24 ... I first went to Brit's Pub for EPL "Decision Day."  To celebrate the big spectacle (and big crowd), I got two dishes to go along with my Bloody Mary.  With tip: $53.
• I then went to Bebe Zito to grab ice cream.  These guys don't have pennies (I think), so they do the "nearest nickel" thing, and mind rounded up.  With tip -- and golly, that much for ice cream?!: $8.60.
• See, I went to Bebe Zito for ice cream because I wanted to try an affogato by going next door to Caffetto and ordering a double shot of espresso.  Pour the espresso over the ice cream and voila, affogato!  (This wasn't my idea; one day when I went to Caffetto, the barista told me outside food is allowed and in fact told me this hack.)  With tip: $5.
• On Saturday the 23rd I was also at Brit's Pub, this time for the English Championship play-up Game, won by Hull (on a Goal in Second Half Stoppage Time) over Middlesbrough.  I was going to get a second dish if it were going to Extra Time, so that late tally saved me money.  Still, with what I got (a bacon butty [?] and a Bloody Mary), I spent, with tip: $38 (ETA on June 30 at 1:42 a.m. that the actual amount I spent was $32.  Don't know why I said $38.)
• Later that afternoon, I went to the Loons Match.  Then, after the Tie, I went to Bang Brewing.  It's a nice, humble, easygoing place.  They have great pizza (from a different company).  And they are trying to be sustainable with everything they do, including using the grains for their beer.  I charged the pizza, but I paid cash for the Kernza.  With tip: $9.
• And then I saw that they offer products from this Patagonia Provisions line, items from the Patagonia outdoor wear company that also promote sustainability.  I'll bite; I bought crackers and, even though I swore I'd never eat them and think they're gross on pizza, a tin of anchovies.  Total for both: $11.
• Thursday, May 21 -- it was the very first day of the Kickoff To Summer At The Fair, The Minnesota State Fair.  I saw it as an opportunity to get the fair food I always wanted to get but never got around to getting, get the fair food I usually get so I could try other fair food when the actually State Fair rolls around, and eat all of that without the crazy crowds.  Well, the first thing I did was line up at Amish Annie Donut.  What am I doing?  I mean, the chocolate chip donut was great, but why am I replicating the bad part of the State Fair, and first thing?  The fairgrounds itself, a lot of it cordoned off (BTW, there was no Midway because the rides aren't there), was sparse, actually, so there was room to roam without getting bodied up creepily.  (There are limits to crowds for all four days of this pre-Fair Fair; Saturday and Sunday sold out.)  I went back and forth for both food and drinks and using cash and a credit card.  I used cash for the donut (with tip), cheese curds, a small mini donut beer (with tip), and a Minneapple Pie with cinnamon ice cream.  (For my own sake, I want to note here that I used my credit card for a blue raspberry lemonade from Little Prairie Coffee, a pickle pizza from Rick's, and a Big Fat Bacon, something I've always wanted to try.)  Cash total: $44.
• Back to Sunday the 17th, where I spent my afternoon at Art-A-Whirl, eating and drinking while walking around and looking at art.  I was going to have separate bullet points for every food and drink I bought, but I just realized that, like the Minnesota State Fair, there's nothing stopping me from aggregating all the stuff I consume into one bullet point because this was all for one occasion and one "event," albeit a big one.  So, my OCD satisfied and to spare myself a few more seconds of time, I can tell you that the elote, a special beer from Pryes Brewing just for Art-A-Whirl (with tip), and a can of Coke (also with tip) I paid for with cash to the tune of: $19.
• I will separate donations from victuals and libations.  I saw someone carrying a very light-looking safe on her shoulders.  She was getting the word out about a Narcan first aid kit.  She and the person she was with were soliciting donations, so the second time I saw them, I kicked in: $1.
• Friday, May 15: This is when Art-A-Whirl started, and I bought three pieces of art, two of them with cash, and I feel better of I separated them since they are things that, well, I still have.  In front of this art gallery I patronize was this artist selling small pieces of art.  One of them was an egg chair.  It came disassembled in a small plastic case, like a toy you would get when you put in a quarter in a vending machine, you know?  I found it whimsical enough to buy, even though I assembled it real quick and I think this is a chair only for small eggs.  Regardless, it was cheap: $1.
• I took a break from "arting" and went to Stargazer.  This place may be the hippest part of the Twin Cities for food, and I'm glad I hit Stargazer for the first time in a long time.  One drink, a Stargazer Burger (which actually is the size of a slider), pasta and tip came out to: $48.
• A small parking lot was cleared out for a couple art stalls and a couple pop-ups for food and drink.  The pizza and drink I got (both of which I charged) were great.  But I spied a freezer from this company called Chunk Chunk, and I had to get an ice cream sandwich.  Paid: $7.
• I finally bit the bullet, went back to the art gallery I've been going to for decades, and decided I had the money and the courage to buy a piece of art from the owner, another person I've been acquaintances with for decades.  It is a small framed print which I now have at my work desk.  Yeah, I buy art now.  By the way, I don't know if it's just art, but one does not pay sales tax if you can pay with money.  Cost: $35.

Good through May 31.

Hooters Ain't The Only One

I swear there has been a rash of restaurant closings this year that I lament.  They don't hurt as much as Hooters, of course.  And honestly, I have been trying to come up with a list, but can't think of too many.  I've already talked about the Taco Bell that was near me.  (By the way, nothing has gone in in its place yet.  Taco Bell disappeared, furnishings and signage and all, in a day, but that place has remained empty for weeks now.  The hell?)

The one that comes to mind right now is the local Subway.  When I was in high school, the place where it was, located at a strip mall not too far away from the high school, was the place to be, sad as it might seem now.  But it was dependable and good enough, and so that's where we all went (and for me, to get those stamps you lick and stick on those cards in order to get a free sub).

What the owners of that place more than several years ago was move to an even bigger place across the street.  That's investment, and I love that.  It was clean, and I was treated well every time I went there.  Unfortunately, it was empty too much of the time.  I wanted to go there more often, but there are so many other places to eat out, both in the fast food and the fancy lanes.  I tried to support them whenever I had the urge to, but it wasn't enough.  A few weeks ago, when I drove by during the day, I didn't see their "OPEN" light on and there was no car outside.  And maybe last week, all the Subway signage was taken down.  I feel sad because it feels as though the owner took a risk based on previous success, but whether it was the bigger size of the restaurant, the new location, something else, or all of the above, it, well, backfired.

And even though it's not my responsibility because I can't eat out every single day or else I'll go broke, I worry about the places I eat out at going under.  There's that speakeasy I haven't been to since March Madness.  It's expensive to go there, but I still want it to be around when I want to go there.  And there's a mom-and-pop panaderia close by me.  Their pastries and croissants and baked goods are fantastic, and the layout looks lush and wonderful, and I barely see anyone whenever I go there.  I hate to come across it one day and see it gone.  But again, I'm not made out of money.  What can I do?

I blame Trump.  Seriously, with all the shit he's done in order to line his pockets, I think it's sensible to blame his corrupt ass.

Nine Inch Nails Concert

So I just bought a ticket to the Nine Inch Nails concert.  I've complained in the past about finding the perfect time to buy a ticket -- buy too early and I might be paying more than I should, wait it out and get shut out altogether.  Well, I just got a ticket for $36.15 through SeatGeek.  Nine Inch Nails last toured more than three years ago and they're shopping their newest music, which is not a new album but the soundtrack for the latest Tron film.  Are those the reasons I bought this for about $20 cheaper than face?

I am looking forward to tonight.  As tired as I said I was in my last blog post -- and I am -- I look forward to the challenge of doing two music concerts on the same night ... which, I just realized as I brushed my teeth, I did just a fortnight ago.  (But back on the 2nd I went from The Dakota to First Avenue; here, I'm going from Cedar-Riverside to downtown St. Paul, so that will be an added challenge.)  I look forward to seeing my friends -- one at Palmer's, then at least one of my high school buddies at NIN.  I believe there will be more because we all were listening to The Downward Spiral our senior year.

You know what I am not looking forward to?  Well, Trent Reznor & Co. are supposed to end their show by around 10:40, and tomorrow/Monday I have to work, so that won't be fun.  Also, I took a look at the band's setlist.  They're not ones to change it up, and though it looks as if Nine Inch Nails will play the hits at the end like most bands do ("Hurt" looks to be the last song, and there doesn't seem to be an encore, BTW), there isn't the spontaneity from changing up the setlist that, I feel, makes the show I go to a special one because it isn't quite like all the others.  But I have to confess: Besides the hits, I am not familiar with NIN music.  Come to think of it, I'm not much of a Nine Inch Nails fan.  So, why did I buy a ticket then?  To say I saw them in an arena?  To park for free in St. Paul?

Well, I am seeing these guys for a bargain.  That ain't bad.

It's Getting Difficult To Donate Stuff

So I have another round of clothes (and, now, two bedsheets) I want to recycle.  I have heard that Goodwill probably won't take the stuff I want to donate, so I was looking around if there are places that take, uh, less-than-usable stuff.

Looking around the Internet, I see this website where they just place a huge bin in some parking lot somewhere, and you can just toss in your clothes (your shoes too) and it's supposed to go to a good place, or they can be used or sold for something good, or something like that.  That's when I vaguely remembered seeing a bin or two close to home.  Shoot, why don't I just throw this stuff in there?  Easy!

So on Sunday I went to my storage unit to grab all my old clothes and bedsheet -- if I kept them here, my parents probably would throw them away, and that doesn't sit right with me -- to take the places I knew these bins were.  Well, one place is close to the mall nearby, but damned if a travelling carnival set up shop there.  So many cars, and so I had no time to park for the two minutes I thought I needed to toss in all my stuff into the bin, so that was a no-go.  I drove home past my high school, where I thought another bin was, but I didn't see one.  I swear one was there. ...

I tried again yesterday/Monday, and this time I had my second, other bedsheet (which I washed Sunday night) to take to donate with my other stuff.  The carnival closed up shop (although it didn't leave town; I think it's setting up again for the long holiday weekend), so I had all this space to just walk up with my bag and throw it in the bins, of which I noticed there were three.

But dammit again; the bins were completely full!  I saw huge bags filled presumably with clothes that overwhelmed the bins.  The chute doors were wedged open because they were all stuffed with bags.  I literally had no space to shove my stuff in anywhere.  It would fall to the ground, and that's considered dumping; if a police car drove by as I walked away from the mess I made, I would be cited.  So I couldn't leave my stuff there.

Now I don't know what to do.  I guess my plan is to just go to the Goodwill tomorrow/Wednesday on my way to the MNUFC Match and have them take my stuff, even though they probably don't want it.  But hell, I don't want it, either, not anymore.  In fact, looking at the grand scheme of things, it appears as though a lot of people don't want a lot of their stuff.  But what happens if the people who say they'll take the stuff other people don't want ... well, basically don't take that stuff?  Yeah, I'm getting the feeling the organization that set up these bins isn't well run.  But that's just me.

Blasts From The Past

The past two days I have been hanging out with my friend and his extended family because his son got married yesterday/Saturday.  I knew when we were young it was going to happen, but still, seeing my friend's son get married is one of those milestones you never think you'd ever live long enough to see.  Hell, I'm surprised I have friends who have kids.

His extended family includes several of his relatives with whom I went to high school with.  Also, our mutual friend flew over from Arizona.  I hadn't seen nor spoken with most of these guys in years, if not decades.  I at first thought it would be super weird to see them after so long, but like old friends, I greeted them and was immediately comfortable with them, as if we hadn't skipped a bit.  The rehearsal dinner after-dinner Friday and the wedding and reception yesterday/Saturday were nice.  The reception was long -- we aren't the party animals we were my friend's kid's age -- but the past two days were nice.  And I'm glad I decided to go.

Goddamn Motherfucking Snowstorm Of The Fucking Century

Well, what the meteorologists hinted at last week appears to be coming true this week: We will have an epic, and possibly historic, blizzard.  All the models agree that, all told (from Tuesday through Thursday, although all the weather people insist there will be a sizable lull Wednesday), a foot of snow is certain, 15 inches is all but certain, and the consensus is that there will be -- my fucking God -- 20 inches of snow once all this shit is over.  There's a plausible chance -- not good, but apparently plausible -- that the Twin Cities could see two feet.  The record snowfall from a storm is the infamous Halloween Blizzard at just more than 28 inches.  Everybody says this storm will fall short, but the final total will be in the ballpark.

Goddamn.  Motherfucker.  I am emotionally upset right now because I fear this storm -- all of its aspects, whether it be driving through it or plowing it, and plowing it, and plowing it.  I was in high school for the Halloween Blizzard, so I remember it, but I don't remember it being all that bad because, frankly, I was a kid and I didn't have to deal with driving or shoveling all the snow.  My parents did that, or Grandmother did.  But I was a child studying to go to college, and I didn't need to be distracted by that shit.  This time around, though, it's just me here, and I have responsibilities.  So it falls on me to deal with all this snow -- on the roads, on my driveway, and, fuck, on the roof.

I'm actually scared that this fucking blizzard will kill me.  Can't be 100% sure it won't.

You know, once I got out of high school I swore to myself that I would stand up to bullies.  I was tormented by them all throughout junior high and high school, and I didn't think I had the means or the support to fight back.  But I became an adult, and I didn't have to schlep to the same place over and over, and so I was able to avoid the assholes who hated me.

Unfortunately, though, this is life, and assholes still bedevil me.  I've thought about what I would do if I were bullied as an adult.  Do I stand up for myself?  Could I stand up for myself?

One Year Ago. ...

I just looked back at the blog posts hours into and just after Thursday, March 12, 2020, the day when, at least to me, the coronavirus pandemic shut down the world -- or, in other words, the day when Shit Got Real.  Since sports constitute an overwhelming part of my life, the Janus point, the event when things changed irrevocably, was the Class 4A Girls' Basketball Semifinal between Stillwater and Hopkins, the latter of which featured Paige Bueckers, the top player in high school last year, the reason I went to watch the Game, and now leading Connecticut as a freshman into the NCAA Women's Tournament.

I don't know if I blog posted about my thoughts during the Game before, but even if I have, I'll do it again.  I still remember the sense of foreboding that came on the early days of the pandemic.  It seemed as though things on the surface were normal, but that only made me and probably others think that things definitely were not normal, and that this invisible monster was cackling at our ignorance and indifference to thrive and ravage humanity.  Everybody was in a panic, even though to this day I don't know how many people will admit they didn't know what they were doing then.  As a result, sporting events were changing conditions on the fly -- going from barring fans except family to barring everyone except essential team members to, eventually, cancelling Games.  For example, before the Semifinals I watched (and I think this was announced in the late morning or early afternoon), the Minnesota State High School League said that the following days' Games would be played behind closed doors.  The next/Friday morning, the MSHSL announced they were cancelling the tournament altogether.

So why did I go to the Game?  The re-calculating of risk was coming at break-neck speed, for everyone involved in sports.  The evening before, Rudy Gobert of The Bastard New Orleans Jazz tested positive for the coronavirus and so the whole NBA season would be postponed.  To many people, that was the day Everything Changed.  And if I recall correctly, that/Wednesday afternoon it was revealed that Tom Hanks came down with COVID-19; for many non-sports people, that was the day Everything Changed.  However, I and the MSHSL probably were intent on staging the Games, at least the Games that were going on for that day.  While experts said the risks of catching this virus, especially in its ominous, mysterious early days, could cause rampant death, it still appeared to be a menace in the distance, whereas this relatively important basketball tournament was happening now.  And I told my folks that I had to stay at work for overtime.  In other words, we all had plans.  And even in the face of a pandemic, we didn't want to change them.  Well, the MSHSL and other sports leagues were going to change what they could change relatively easily, most notably preventing down large crowds.  But the show must go on.  And until the MSHSL reconsidered, I went ahead with my plans, too ... even though I had a feeling even back then that would be the last sporting event I would attend in person in 2020.

While watching not necessarily the Hopkins-Stillwater Game so much as Bueckers herself, I had to admit that more than half the time I was thinking to myself, "Should I even be here?"  The crowd at Williams Arena wasn't big.  There was no one in the upper deck.  Just more than the upper half of the lower deck was empty, too.  There was room to spread around, but probably because we didn't entertain the concept of "social distancing" seriously (although I don't know if we entertained COVID-19 seriously a year ago), all the fans who were there sat together, filling up the closest several rows all around The Barn's court.  Because why not?  You're at a Game with friends, you want to sit together.  I, going to the Game without friends, sat by myself, sorta; I hung back a couple rows from the rest.  I thought I established a bubble no one would penetrate, but then during the Game a couple high school dicks sat within six feet of me for no reason.  I think I shot them a couple looks; they didn't leave until the first Semifinal was over.

I didn't feel sick after that night.  I have signed up to give a blood sample to the National Institute of Health for an antibody sample, twice, and I tested negative both times.  I dodged a bullet, even though it was possible no one in the arena had the virus.  But after having the fun I insisted on having that evening, it was my turn to hold my end of the bargain I made by myself, and I accepted the world shutting down after Thursday, March 12, 2020.

Crazy year, huh?

We All Knew. The Correct-Minded People Of This Country Knew.

Blog posting this on the eve of kicking out Donald Trump.

I remember a little over four years ago, after Trump cheated to take the presidency.  There were a couple of people I know -- they were from high school and I reconnected with them through Facebook -- who didn't see that big of a deal over how much some of us believed he would be a fucking disaster.  It basically boiled down to a warning that may forever trigger me: "Why don't we just give him a chance?"

This is an incontrovertible fact: Donald Trump is a failure.  Corrupt, cruel, incompetent, selfish, mean, violent, and traitorous.  Being The Worst President In American History is something probably best left to historians, but I think so, and he definitely is the worst in my lifetime.  And jail is too good for him.  Good fucking riddance once 11 o'clock rolls around, and if there is a God, justice upon Donald Trump will come -- soon after, swiftly, and utterly.

This is also an incontrovertible fact: People knew he was a fuck-up.  We knew we should not give him a chance to see if he would be a good president.  Because ever since he flapped his gums about Barack Obama being born in Kenya, I and we knew he was a dirty asshole.  Every rude comment and utterance that if it were coming from a parent would make you think he or she had early onset dementia -- people didn't see that?!  People didn't see that he didn't give two shits about helping the country, and that he was the talisman for a growing and dangerous group of Our Fellow Americans who want to take their sacred right to vote and toss it in the trash so they could anoint a dictator for life just because he's White?

There are people who, on his way out, are shocked, shocked I tell you, that Donald Trump wasn't what they hoped he would be.  These people are not as bad as those who would willingly fellate him if they saw him on the street (and there are many -- some of them are Facebook friends!), but it's close.  We are not in a period of time where we can suffer fools lightly.  We are in the middle of a pandemic.  The economy is in the shitter.  And there are white supremacists who want to start a race war to get Trump back in the White House.  These people who wanted to give Trump a chance remain too Pollyanna-ish to be of any use in our current reality.

We all knew.  The correct-minded people of this country knew that Trump would leave the United States worse than when he stole it.  Saying this isn't flexing.  What we knew doesn't make us smart, not in the least.  We were just paying attention.  And these oblivious folks had better fucking start doing this same.

Hottest Babe In The Hooters Calendar: August

For the month of August I did something different: The other day I masturbated to the girls of the month before selecting which of them was hottest here.   I needed to rub one out, and I didn't know when I was going to get around to blog posting about them, so I decided to put the cart before the horse.  And you know what?  It helped me.  It helped me decide which girl is my favorite based on who I actually came to.

First, the honorable mentions.  There are 14 women for the month, and four of them I stopped and lingered on for more than a second because they had sexy qualities but there was something about their photo that was off for me.  Jessica (out of Conyers, Ga., and by the way, in my high school senior summer trip to Europe we ran into a tour group of high schoolers from Conyers, Ga.) and Abbie (from Fort Myers Beach, Fla.) have their arms crossed in front of them, and I find that pose to be distracting.  Kristin, out of Fairview Heights, Ill. (maybe I'll get to see her next year!), has a fun smile, but she's holding this, uh, bubble maker ... maybe?  And Kylie, of Fort Myers, Fla., has a hot body, or at least I think so, but I don't really know because one of the Mall Of America Hooters girls who I had sign this calendar wrote all of her photo.  Sorry, Kylie.

Now, to the women who placed.  I'm going to give fourth place to Houston's Sydney.  I love how she puts her hands on her hips -- total Amazon power move.  And her yellow bikini pops against her black skin.  Love the long hair, too.  Wished she smiled, though.  Third place goes to Kailee, from Sarasota, Fla.  She's wearing an orange two-piece bikini, has big and beautiful boobs, and striking long, dark blonde hair.  But the ends of it is draped in front of her, and I don't like that.  Also, and this is not her fault, but her photo is underneath Kylie's, and the woman who autographed this page (and again, she doesn't have a photo on here, she just autographed wherever) drew an owl whose feet touches Kailee's head.  Totally superficial, but that's bothersome to me.

Second and first place are kind of difficult for me.  On the one hand you have Jessica, out of Ham Lake, Miss.  Long-haired brunette, orange two-piece with white borders for both top and bottom, and a cute smile.  On the other hands you have Samantha, from Dedham, Mass.  Long-haired blonde, a blue-and-white-patterned bikini that seems to separate her boobs, and, well, I noticed just now some underboob in her right boob.  Weirdly, however, she is posing inbetween what looks to be two small-ish tree trunks.  Why?  Is it because she's from Massachusetts?  Is the image supposed to be that she's stuck in there?  I was furtive jerking off whilst exchanging my gaze the two, and honestly, I can't remember which of the two I finally shot over, but I continued to spew while looking back-and-forth.  That probably means that, for the first time of me doing these monthly evaluations, we have a tie for the top spot between Jessica and Samantha.  Congratulations, you two!!

This is where I usually promise to masturbate to the hot women this month, but I've already squared that away.

She's Hot As Fuck, And She's A Conspiracy Theorist!!!

I shouldn't make these grand declarations about women, but I can say this about a lot of the women I, well, want to fuck -- the strippers who are in my life and the women I am friends with on Facebook because they're Playmates or porn stars or models or bodybuilders and show off their bodies in all the photos they post of themselves: They believe in conspiracy theories.

I have known, for a long time, that many strippers and Playmates are in fact Republicans.  I never really understood that; why would someone who is in the business of making money off of showing of their own bodies be loyal to a political party that swears by moral certitude and swears against glorifying flesh, mainly women's?  I still don't quite get it, but I have grown to understand that as monolithic as I (and maybe many Republicans) want Republicanism to be, there is a wing of that ideology that couldn't give two shits about religion and instead gives fealty to its cause because of its selfishness disguised as individualism.  Libertarians are really adults who have the maturity of  teenagers, and thus being conservative is somehow for them.

But ever since 2000 Republicans haven't just gotten extreme; they've gotten bug-fuck crazy.  And although George W. Bush deserves to be tried in The Hague instead of getting the revisionist history he doesn't fucking deserve, that entire goddamn party have shit for brains right now.  Pizzagate?  QAnon?  Adrenochrome?  Chemtrails??  JFK Jr. is alive???  People believe this bullshit.  People are actually running for Congress expressing loyalty to this cult.  And so many people have gotten wrapped up in its shithouse-rat claims that it has already exhibited the characteristics of a religion.

When people say the Internet, and in particular social media platforms, and specifically Facebook, is drowning in conspiracy theories, believe them.  I had no idea how many people are under the spell of these lies (all of them coming from the Republican side) until Donald Trump cheated his way to the presidency.  During the 2016 campaign and especially since he was installed, people I am connected to have posted these crazy stories denigrating Democrats and boosting Trump and, by definition, Republicans, too.  While my core friends, people I truly know from high school and my childhood, don't believe in this outlandish garbage, I have a few acquaintances that do.  Worse for my libido, of the many strippers I befriended from My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version), nearly all of them subscribe to conspiracy theories, whether it be QAnon or specific claims, such as vaccines cause autism and masks don't work.

A lot of the babes I'm friends with on Facebook, nearly all of whom I probably will never see in my lifetime, believe this crap.  Many of the Playboy Playmates I befriend on FB continue to post these conspiracy theories from time to time.  And my frustration with trying to deal with hot women who choose to live in this Bizarro World came to a head when it came to two non-PB hot babes either Monday or Tuesday night.

First, there is one "figure competitor" who has gone all in on essentially fellating Trump and posting all of these false news stories.  My final straw came when she posted on Facebook that bullshit story claiming that the Center for Disease Control now says that only 6% of the deaths that had been blamed on COVID-19 are actually because of that disease.  She runs her own business whereby she hawks these nutritional products, and since I believe those drinks are a bunch of literal hooey, thinking she would make the leap into Crazytown isn't so far-fetched.  Anyway, I actually replied to her with a story debunking the stupid-ass logic that led to that conclusion.  I checked on her thread, and I don't see it.  I think she deleted my post.  Later in the evening, I saw a Facebook story by a Playmate whom I haven't seen in a long time.  I liked her photo, then went onto her Timeline.  I went through her status updates, liking a couple ... before seeing #SaveTheChildren pop up on of her posts.  Then I see a meme she posted taking a cheap shot at Hillary Clinton, and then later I see that fucking hashtag #WWG1WGA.  I deleted a comment I sent her.  My God, she looks so normal, but she fucking believes in fucking QAnon?!?!?!

I think about pushing back more often.  But I hold out hope that one day I will see them in person and, yes, I hope they are willing to have sex with me, so I comment only sparingly.  All of this makes me sad.  It is really depressing to see so many beautiful women be taken in by such an obviously fake and stupendously reckless way of thinking like QAnon.  Yes, I am selfishly thinking with my penis when I let this get me down.  But the number of hot women I know, on social media and in my life, that have not been brainwashed by this I can count on my fingers.

In the meantime I have to ask myself the question people should ask themselves if one of the brainwashed is a close personal friend or a family member: Do you confront your loved one's BS conspiracy theories, or do you just live and let live, and love and let love?  I don't know how to answer this.  And regardless of who wins (or cheats to win), can I stay friends with the people I've met on the Internet and IRL if not all of us are happy with the result?  I don't know.  And that makes me even sadder.

Fucker's Got Some Balls On Him

Some dude from high school friend requested me on Facebook today.  Don't know if I should accept it.  We had some good times, we had some shitty times -- well, I should specify: He made my life shitty at times.  I remember him threatening to beat me up while we were in Europe.  We also had good times there, too.

In high school, you get along in order to go along.  But I'm not in high school anymore, so I don't have to do that anymore.

Does he understand what he did to me?  Do we see that time differently?  Or does he not care?

So, should I?

Updated Measurements

Herberger's is going out of business, and they seemed to have been going out of business for the past decade.  Well, maybe five months, but that's still a long time.  Nevertheless I feel the scavenger in me, so yesterday after work I went to the Herberger's at The Mall Closest To Me for, like, the third time in a week.

I am mentally putting together a shopping list.  Surprisingly after several months of going out of business, there is still a lot of stuff left for people to buy at low, low prices.  So beyond buying a pair of easygoing khakis, I'm in a bind: Either buy now and miss out on prices going even lower on them, or wait and risk someone else getting them.  What to do, what to do. ...

This is the stuff I want:

• Sinatra-style hat
• Wallet
• Socks
• Shoes
• Dress shirt
• Jeans

Those are items I can usually go without, but I feel pressure to buy because I will never be able to buy them at prices this low.

This is the stuff I think I need:

• Suit

I've gotten so fat only one suit fits me.  But I think the suits have all been picked through, and what I have left are separates.  So I have spent my days at Herberger's trying to find a brand with coat and pants that are the same color.  Maybe I see a Kenneth Cole, maybe a Calvin Klein.  And even if I find a match, right now the price would be about $130, which is still a lot of money for me.

I'll think about it.  In the meantime I had been trying on suitcoats and shirts to make sure I know which sizes to buy.  Herberger's is "Going Out Of Business," so of course all sales are final.

I had listed my measurements, even though they were from high school, because I needed to know what sizes fit me.  But after trying them on I realized that those were just too old, and I'm fatter now.  So, after lots of shirts and coats and looking at my most snug pair of jeans, I want to update some of my measurements:

• Waist: 34
• Neck: 16
• Sleeve: 32-3

This Last Day Feels Different

Thought about this going to bed last night.

This is the time of year of The Last Day Of School.  I don't know when it usually is where you live, but for most of my life here, it ends around early June.  I remember The Last Day Of School as the most joyous day of the year for me.  There was no homework, no need to get up in the morning, no obligations after that day.  So every time I heard that bell for the last time on The Last Day Of School, I tore out of class like I was escaping prison.  Because I was.  I was free -- free to do what I want (or not), whenever I wanted -- well, until the fall, of course.  Summer still means something special to me.  I complain about how hot it is, but back then, it was my time to complain, or to enjoy at my leisure, free from the behest of anyone.

But, of course, that was my childhood.  Today is The Last Day Of Work for me.  And it breaks an impressive string for me.  Before this job was the one the floor above.  Before that I worked for Wells Fargo for a couple weeks, then before that was testing season and I latched onto job after job there.  then before that I was back at the health insurance company.

If I get the chronology right, and excepting that have been a couple weeks' furlough here and there, I have been continuously working since, oh, the late summer of 2016.  I have had enough work that I have not needed to go on unemployment since then, at least.  As I've said before, this is something I am proud of.  In fact, I consider it to be progress.

But unless lightning strikes, that ends after today.  Right now, I have no jobs lined up.  Health insurance company doesn't want me anymore.  Testing season is over; I have asked if there is work over the summer, and they have not gotten back to me.  And I should blog post about this soon, but nothing I've applied for over the Internet has gotten back to me either.

So, um, I'm out on my own.  And I am stuck as fuck.  I can't go back on the dole because then my parents will find out I am unemployed, and the shit I will take for that will break me.  All signs point to me going back to school, but ... ugh.  I may have no choice, but how ironic is it that the main joy of my childhood was not going to school in the summer, and now, as an adult, going to school in the summer may serve as my salvation?

---

I am not motivated to go to work, to be honest.  There are two tasks I could do, and then, well, I don't know what else there is to do.  I swear there is enough work for me to stick around, but they say there isn't.  They treat me real well there, this department, and I know they like me.  But I've got to admit I feel really bitter about this.  I want to find a place where I can stick.  I want to find a place that needs me, and wants me.  For three seasons I have been hoping that it's been this place, but, well, it's not.  And frankly, after I walk out that door at the end of work today, I don't know if they'll invite me back.

I am lost and scared, y'all.  I really, really am.  Being let loose for the summer -- this summer -- goddamn frightens me.  How fucking ironic is that?

All It Takes Is A Gift?

This happened last week, a few days after both parental units waylaid into me for no good reason.

I was finishing up dinner with my folks.  Mother spoke to me about stuff, but Father did not, a sign that he was mad at me.  (My psychotherapist accurately said that the problem I have with my parents is that I don't know when and how they come at me.  It's like I have PTSD or something.)  But as I was cleaning up after eating, My Father points somewhere and says, "That's for you."

"What?  Where is it?" I replied, and I saw what he was pointing at: A Hard Rock Cafe bag.

I don't know if I've said this yet on Wailing And Failing, but I collect Hard Rock Cafe memorabilia.  It's a really dorky hobby to have.  When I had my first big trip, which was to Europe after my senior year in high school, I wanted to have some souvenirs.  And at the time, seeing all these t-shirts with the venerable HRC logo and the city underneath it sounded like the perfect way to signal where in the world you've been.  I decided early on that I would get two things whenever I hit a cafe in a city for the first time: A white tee with the original logo and the city under it, and a specialty pin, one that has local significance.

My HRC collecting continued to expand while I had the means to travel to Asia, then back to Europe again after graduating from college, and then on my trips around the U.S.  But life takes over, you know.  There are many cities I haven't gotten to, and so my sister and brother-in-law, who have dedicated a big portion of their lives to globetrotting, stepped in and bought me t-shirts and pins for the places they vacationed at.

I never got the feeling that my parents approved of my hobby.  Mother kept her mouth shut about it while Father had said on occasion that it's a waste of money.  So I was shocked, absolutely gobsmacked that they took time out of their two-month cruise to head to the cities in South America that had Hard Rock Cafes and buy stuff there for me.  They indulged in my hobby, and it's the first time they showed any interest, genuine or otherwise, about something I like to do.

I don't know what prompted it, although last year I bought both of them hats with my alma mater on them.  I just didn't think that with my parents' nonplussed attitude towards my collecting, and then them laying into me just a few days prior, that they would think about me and do this.  When I told my shrink about it, his first thought was that they did it because they cared about me.  Really???

After I took the bag with those goodies to my room, do you know what my first thought was?  I should go back to school.  Yep, either I felt so guilty that they would do such a nice thing for me or I operate on a callous, transactional, quid pro quo way of thinking that it was not only right but fair that I go back to school.  That feeling has subsided ... and yet, just writing this paragraph makes me think that I'm obligated to go back to school.  Maybe all it does take to go back is a gift.

Don't tell my folks, but however they thought of it, or even if only one of them thought about doing it, I think it's a really nice gesture.  I was barely able to stammer out a thank-you to My Father, but I meant it.  And even though I have yet to look through the contents of the bag (it's just sitting on the floor right next to my bed), it is still really thoughtful of them.

O Death

So, I am planning on stopping by a funeral home this evening because the father of a few of my friends died late last week.  I had no clue.  We are friends, but I don't know if we're so close (at least right now; we were huge friends in high school) that they would feel as though they would let me know their dad was sick.  I'm not offended.

Most of the only times I saw him were at the family's house, where I would come to celebrate New Year's.  We never had long or deep conversations, but from the conversations I had with him and from observing him interacting with his kids, he was a really nice guy.

There's been an awful recent block of deaths of people two degrees apart or I don't know.  Janet Lupo, a very popular Playboy Playmate, died a couple days ago.  And a couple of aunts of Facebook friends have died recently.  I don't know what's going on, but it feels as though there's a purge of, well, living people.

The past couple nights, as I was turning in to sleep, I jolted myself into sudden shock.  Thinking about all this death surrounding me, in particular the father of friends I've known a long time, I realized that this isn't stopping.  It's going to continue, and it's going to accelerate, and everyone will have his or her turn at heartbreak.  Including me.

My parents are getting up there, but they've got enough energy to go to Vegas soon.  But, one day, I'll hear the news that they're really sick.  And then it'll dawn on all of us, on me, that either Father or Mother won't get better, and so we'll all face days of decline in health till ... you know.  And then I'll try to turn in to sleep, and I'll realize that things won't get better -- that one day, they'll be gone.  And then I'll be wishing for the days I am having now, when things are good, before things inevitably age and die.

The Perils Of Working So Close To Home

So I start a new position today.  It's short-term, but although I was initially led to believe it would be only this and next week, another person who says he has better knowledge of the company says I should expect it to last a month.  At any rate I will be out before the health insurance company asks me back, which is in November, which is a month later than last year, which really scares me.  It also doesn't help that it's part-time, about 24 hours a week.  I mean, I am glad I'm getting any work at all.  But if I'm good enough for 40/week, I should be seeking that out, even if it's going to last only six weeks.

One big advantage is that the job's in the next town over.  In fact, it's in the same city as the high school I went to.  In fact, it's only five minutes away.  But is it really an advantage?  For one thing, I'm so close that my parents might drive past my place of work and my car.  I don't think this will be the case because I'll be driving in a direction my folks don't go.  Famous last words, of course, but they have no reason to be up in that part of our neighborhood.  However, I didn't think till tonight (I agreed to the job basically this morning) that since I'm in a part of town where I went to high school, there's a chance that I'll be working with or even for someone I went to high school with.  I doubt it ... well, now that I think about it, it's a decent chance.  Man, what will I say -- "Hey, how's it goin'?  Long time no see, eh?"

I'm screwed, aren't I?

A Tale Of Two Stripper Parties, Part One (Scheduled Post)

These two parties happened in the two weeks my parents were gone, shortly after I came back from Hong Kong.

The first one was at a house within fair driving distance.  It was three girls at a house hosted by a guy I have come to know and trust as someone who will keep my perversions private.  He's actually a real cool dude.  He was the one who tipped me off to this party.  I thought I knew one of the girls, but when I came over, she wasn't there.

However, it turns out that I in fact did see one of these hot women before.  At least I think so.  I saw her a long, long time ago at *******a's party.  I swear that she was the one who attended my high school.  Regardless, I knew she was cute and I promised her then that I was going to get a dance from her next time.  I didn't think next time would be at least three years afterward.

Nevertheless, even though I don't think she recognized me, she kissed me on the lips as an introduction.  And when she flashed the horde of horny men just kibitzing in the solarium, I decided to swoop in and see if she would promise me the "fun" the host texted me these girls would do.

So we went upstairs and we got to talking.  She seemed really nice.  I didn't want to push it; it felt as though she was not going to charge me for all this talking.  But, organically, it was sexytime.  I, being a gentleman, did not surprise her by whipping it out.  Instead I stood up in front of her while she sat on the bed.  She unbuttoned my fly, then expressed (feigned?) shock that I wasn't wearing any underwear.  After soliciting a price (which I gladly accepted), she took me into her hand ... and then, after a moment, took me into her mouth.  Lovingly, deeply.

And then I heard a knock on the door.  Another stripper working the party, who also a friend of hers, came in, fresh (or "fresh") from doing a VIP.  Thank Buddha the guy she was with didn't come into the room with her.  So my girl -- oh, let's call her ******e -- lets her in and they talk.  I am totally naked at this point.  ******e, by the way, is not.  (She's still smoking hot, fuck ... she works as a masseuse [the clean kind] and I felt her strong, powerful arms as she was sucking me off.)  The other stripper is clothed too, though that didn't stop me from trying to thrust my cock inbetween her butt cheeks as she turned around and bent over to get a compliment from me about her ass.  It was nice, though a bit bony; I'm just glad she saw me naked!

So we were just there, the three of us, and it's a CFNM (Clothed Female, Naked Male) situation, and the two were just talking about stuff.  Then the conversation turned to me, the naked guy standing inbetween them.  And suddenly, ******e just grabs my dick right in front of her!  Holy shit!!!  I'm excited as fuck.  And yet this other stripper, who was still plenty nice ... well, I don't know if she ever looked down to stare at my pee-pee.  Huh.

So then the other girl left and ******e got down on her knees on the floor to continue to fellate me.  Since she was so willing and aggressive about going down on me, I wanted to make sure if she was OK with me cumming in her mouth.  "But we just met," ******e said, and respecting her wishes, when I was ready to blow, I took myself out and splooged all over her impressive (fake?) tits.  "Oh my God, there's so much!" she cried.  I take that as a compliment.  And I've got to say, I emptied myself onto her chest.  I mean, once I was done she took spread apart her breasts (which she had been handling during my orgasm), and there was this rope of semen that I managed to lace on both her boobs.  When she spread her girls out, she stretched that cum, and I don't know why, but seeing that stays with me.  I still imagine that.

So if she made me do that the first time we were intimate, imagine what we would do now that we're "familiar" with each other.  Once we got done and dressed ******e invited me down to her place for a party the following week.  She really hyped it up as something with bells and whistles and lights and all that.  I tried to be positive, but that's not my thing.  What we just did is my thing, and you don't need accouterments for that.  And she had been texting me after our encounter to keep me posted about other parties, but the other snag with that -- that she lives so far away -- may have been a reason she has stopped communicating with me.  I asked about one-on-ones, and I'm certainly down as soon as the summer starts.  But I hope that offer still stands.  I need her mouth around my dick again, OMG. ...

ZOMG! My BFF Just Totes Unfriended Me On Facebook!

Sometimes I wish some people would just fucking grow up.  But on the other hand, dumb shit like this reminds me of when I was young and tried to build up a fantasy world which I only ruled, and I think of a simpler time that I suddenly am sentimental for, like high school.

I friended this girl on Facebook because she had some nasty comments about some Republic or Trump supporter (same thing), and when we began talking to each other she seemed to be a real cool chick.  Had strong opinions, but I thought our views aligned well enough that we were on the same side.  She said she friended me because she had a Korean girlfriend.

She then introduced me to this kinky Facebook page where you could be as perverted as you want.  That was great until the guys in there (there were some girls there too, and many of them were pretty fucking hot, at least according to their profile pictures) started posting memes that veered to close to rape fantasy.  That was the point where I became a lurker and not a poster.

As I had seen more of her status updates (which she does frequently) and her messages to some people, I got the feeling that she was the aggressive, if not tempestuous type.  That's when I kind of knew that if I ever said something that she perceived as "crossing" her, she would unfriend (actually I think the term should be "defriended," but that's for another blog post) me.

And so it happened last night, where she went on a rant about how the Democrats are as bad as the Republicans and in fact are worse because at least Republicans have their shit together or something.  I kind of had the feeling she was a Bernie Sis before this.  Nevertheless, I decided to go into a back-and-forth with her (there was another person in the conversation and he was taking my side).  She said something I said was ignorant, I went, "No, you are," and then when I was waiting for my next Facebook notification, it didn't update.  Oh, yeah, I knew she swung her ax.  I checked both of her profiles and I am no longer a friend.  And I have been thrown off this Facebook page she introduced me to.

It doesn't hurt me to be unfriended.  I've never met her, and I increasingly got the feeling over our relationship (of about six months) that we may not be friends IRL.  And I certainly don't take back what I said about her stupid Both Sides Do It stance.  Like I said, I just harken back to a time in my life where not only I had the time to worry about shit like this, but to also think it was important enough to swiftly take a guy I met on Facebook out of my life, completely and instantly.  I know I have defriended people on Facebook, but I know I didn't feel as though I had to do it because that person violated my moral code or some shit like that.  I think she thinks it was much more important to her.  She probably thinks my offense was all-encompassing, even worthy of execution.

Whatevs, man.  Bitch is probably crazy.

Oh, Fuck You, United

Just on a whim I decided to look up my miles on Delta and United.  Delta was fine.  United was not.  I had about 42,000 miles on it, and I my heart sank when it told me I had a balance of zero.

United demands that there be activity on an account within 18 months or else the airline will take them all away.  Flying on them works, obviously.  So does donating them, or at least I think.  That's why I spent some time, a couple times a year at most, going to United and donating, oh, 500 miles to keep my account active.

I swear I did that at some point in the last year-and-a-half.  I swear.  On my days of unemployment I went to Caribou in the mornings and I did just that -- at least once in 2016, and probably twice even though I didn't have to.

The problem is is that I have no track record of it.  I was never given a receipt of the 500 miles I know I gave last year.  I have never received a receipt.  The last noted transaction United said I had, donating 500 miles to some charity in June 2015, I also never got a receipt for.  I didn't think much of it because I assumed that they got the record of me donating 500 miles.

And there's another problem.  I signed up for United's regular newsletter, and -- now that I am in a panic that all my 42,000 miles are now gone -- I see, in fairly large type, the exact number of miles I have, and the expiration date United gave me.  I just perused the monthly newsletters going back to July 2015 (obviously with a lot more attention than when I received them the first time) and it's the exact same number ... which was the exact number of miles United took away from me.  Again, I swear that I donated last year, and I told them so on the e-mail I just sent them through the airline's website.  But I fear that they could just come back with, "But sir, you had a monthly reminder of how many miles we say you had in your account, as well as the date at which they would expire, so don't say we didn't warn you."

Oh, by the way, United took these miles from me February 1 -- Wednesday, just three days ago.  If only I knew.  If only I realized. ...

If this e-mail beg doesn't work -- or if I didn't donate miles in 2016 like I thought I did, or if donating miles no longer counts as keeping your account active -- I can get my miles, some of which I accrued back when I flew to Europe after graduating from high school, reinstated.  At a cost.  Of $200.  And after I picked my jaw back off the floor, I decided that I was A-O-damn-K with paying that $200 to get my miles back.  Because 42,000+ is a hell of a lot of miles.  And I cannot part with miles I got way back in 1994.

You know, I paid $275 as a fee to turn in a Stanford MBA application that is so weak the school probably has already rejected it.  Retrieving these miles will be the second outrageously exorbitant waste of money I have spent in 2017.  I could use that $475 to pay off the ticket to go see Grandmother in Hong Kong.  But instead I am spending it on a useless application and getting these non-tangible miles back.  My God, what in the hell is wrong with me???

Oh yeah -- I just looked at the title.  I much prefer Delta now because Delta's miles never expire!!!  Go suck it, United!!!