Yeah, about tonight's/Saturday night's Lynx Game ... as always, I get up to two tickets, and as usual, I don't use one of them and go by myself because none of my friends are sports fans.  But I got yelled at by one of my friends, or "friends," when I posted about the other ticket I got for the Timberwolves playoff Game in which they eliminated Denver.  He wanted a direct message.  I'm thinking, "Bitch, I have to cater to your ass over everyone else I know?"  I guess I understand that people get busy, but the more I think about it, the more entitled he sounds.  The hell does he get off asking me for special treatment?

And yet I don't want this ticket to go to waste.  And finally, I want to DM him about this offer to see how grateful, or even normal, he will act if we sit next to each other to watch the Game.  I can't believe he'll behave like a dick who thinks he deserves to be waited on hand and foot.  But if he does, well, I'll have proof beyond doubt to never offer anything to him again.  So, should I do it?

Fucking Sister's Fucking Mad At Me

So on Tuesday I was downtown at our college Game-watching bar watching the Match for the final World Cup spot between Iraq and Bolivia (the Iraqis won) when I got a text from WhatsApp.  My sister texted me a picture of a piece of mail she got ... and it was in my name.  I don't live where she lives -- how in the hell is my name on a piece of mail sent to my sister's place?

So I texted her, not really upset as she was, I soon realized.  I was hanging out by myself watching some important soccer, so I texted back something innocuous but showing that I am empathizing with her.  That conversation petered out, though, so after I got home and then when I woke up Wednesday morning I thought I would check up on her.  "Do you need me to do anything?" I basically asked, to which she replied, "No, just stop talking about it."  Now I know she's mad about this, and I have to now understand whether she is mad at me.  So I ask her, and she says, "Yes, but stop talking about it."

Well, fuckin' A.  She obviously is upset that my name appears on a piece of mail (junk mail she said -- she threw it away) that has my name on it.  I don't know why or how that happened.  But it's dawned on me that she blames me for this. I texted her, both Tuesday night and Wednesday, how she wants me to help solve this.  But telling me to stop talking about it isn't solving a goddamn thing.  She just shut me down, and not only is that not productive, but it's pretty damn hurtful, too.  She won't let me fix this, so the only thing I can think of as to why she is acting like this is because she's mad at me and she wants to stay mad at me.

I thought for a long, long time to just end the conversation by giving her the middle finger emoji.  Shit, I'm still thinking about giving her that.  But I have to look to the long term, stop needing to have the last word, and not do anything that could really, really piss her off, even though by what she said she's already plenty pissed.

We have very occasional blow-ups.  I don't remember the last time she was this upset with me.  But whenever we do, it's a damn knock-down drag-out.  She can be extremely petty and unreasonable, and in turn, I decide I need to be defensive.  So, instead of giving her the finger, I didn't come back on her at all.  In fact, I muted her on WhatsApp.  And I would mute her on Facebook too if I knew how to do that without blocking her entirely.

I hate how she's making me feel.  Out of all the family members, I'm the closest to her.  She's the only one I think I can be honest and even a bit vulnerable with.  I think she understands me more than the others.  But I don't understand her right now, and I have spent a long, long time since this "exchange" thinking about what she thinks of me right now and when all of this is going to be over.  I'm trying to help, but her silent treatment is making me angry because I don't deserve that.  And I really, really don't know how in the fuck my name got on a piece of junk mail sent to her place.

This fucking sucks.  I feel like the black sheep of this family, but moreso now that I'm fighting with the only family member I am on good terms with.

Psycho At Work

For the first time, there is a crazy customer I and we have to deal with.  I had to take a call from a phone of someone who does not work Mondays, and this idiot was in orbit.

I checked her deal: We are looking for an account number from her, and it seems as if she and my co-worker have been going back-and-forth over it.  She has provided an account or two, but neither of them work, and yet, she doesn't seem to ... get it.  What makes me think she's kind of nuts is that I told her that I noticed she had been in touch with a couple of other people, and she said that she doesn't want to talk to them anymore because, according to her, she was treated rudely and would not speak to them.

She still could not give an account.  She really couldn't give a straight answer, insisting that "we have her information," even though we have been trying, several times, to get one from her.  That's when she went psychotic -- she asked for the manager, she asked for corporate headquarters, she even tsk-tsked when I asked for her number so "my manager" (who I realized won't be in for the next couple days, whoops!) could call her back.  She hung up on me, the brat.

I've dealt with rudeness before, but she is still trying to get something from us without giving us what we need.  That makes her dangerous because, in all likelihood, she's going to contact us again, and that is when we are going to have real problems.  Normally, I would defer to my manager, but like I said, he isn't going to be around.  My plan is to come in and, first thing, tell my co-worker about the call I took on her phone.  I then will suggest and ask for a plan of action, including if there's anyone we can defer to, someone who has the means to shield themselves, us, and the company from this insane person.

I'm not worried ... yet.  But if anything happens, I already let you all know here.

Oh, I Need To Care About Other People's Feelings Now ...

I love my sister, and I'm glad she's home, even if it's not under the brightest of circumstances.  But it takes dim old me, who's been doing his own thing socially for a long time now, to recalibrate because, of course, your sis wants to do things with you.  And you realize that, hey, you want to do things with her, too.

The problem is that I have a bunch of days I've already planned for doing stuff, so that means that there are way fewer days for us to do stuff.  Also, I have no idea how long my sister is going to be here.  Finally, she laid out a series of things she wants to do, and I am still thinking about what to do with her and, even more importantly, when.  That is difficult.  For example, Saturday might have been a good time, but I have an eye appointment in the afternoon and I'm going to the MNUFC soccer Match that night.  I'm going to another soccer Match next week.  And I have sporting events I'm working on that'll also take up much of my time.  Meanwhile, she wants to go here, and there, and maybe even up north, and that'll take up a weekend, and I don't know if I have a weekend free.

Still, I need, and want, to take some time I would have reserved for myself and devote it to her.  Contrast that to considering the feelings of My Fucking Father, who blew a gasket and insulted me because I dragged the trash bin to a part of the driveway he deemed too close to the recycling bin.  He thinks those bins have to be as far apart from each other as possible.  Yeah, because the garbage truck and the recycling truck can't tell which bin to pick up if they're too close.  That asshole actually went out and dragged the trash bin to the other side of the end of the driveway.  That's weird.  What makes it even stupider is that he did that as my sister and I had started up my car because we were going to the library.  My Fucking Father dragged the trash bin behind where we would back down the car.  If my sister didn't negotiate around the trash bin, if she just backed down the driveway like any normal human being, we would've hit the bin.  But My Fucking Father absolutely had to move it there, and he couldn't at least fucking wait until we had left.  Childish son-of-a-bitch.

See, I don't want to care about what My Fucking Father thinks.  But I do want to care about what my sister thinks.  See the difference?

Glad Last/Sunday Night Is Over

So after lunch and learning that I'm helping Father stick an EKG monitor on his bare chest, I hear Mother screaming at Father, over something.  I have never known what they've ever argued over, but I haven't heard Mother yell like that in a long, long time.

We eat a very early dinner (four hours after lunch, which is insane).  I was the one who attached this EKG on Father; Mother was in her office doing her own thing.  I go up to my bedroom and eventually take an early-evening nap before going out to exercise.  Mother bangs on my door to wake me up.  I'll expound on this hopefully in a different blog post, but never wake me up from sleep.  I hate that.

She gets me out to the dinner table.  She needs help booking their flight, although she actually said, "You promised to help me with my frequent flier miles," which is something I don't ever remember her saying.  It was obvious she was in the kind of mood she has often been in after yelling at Father -- wounded, feeling like a victim and lashing out because she felt entitled.  And this type of thing My Fucking Mother ropes me in to doing for her is the type of thing she usually ropes me in to do for her, which is something that has to do with not understanding English words and some elements of the task I believe she knows how to do, but doesn't want to do them because she wants to act helpless.  Besides all that, I feel like I've been dropped in unfamiliar territory, and so I'm figuring what the hell I need to do, but, and this is also typical of her, whenever I run into a roadblock or something I don't understand, she goes, "Well, what are we going to do?"  And I've gotten a little better at pointing to her, "Um, we are not doing anything.  You brought me into this because you don't want to do this.  I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do."  (She also has this tick where I say something to her and she goes, "I know."  She clearly isn't using that phrase when she's supposed to, but I still get triggered because I take her literally at her word, and I want to say to her, "No, you don't know!"  But that's another blog post.)

I can't book a flight online.  Mother asks me to call for her, fuckin' A.  The call wait time is 2 1/2 hours.  They invite me to text instead, so I tell My Mother I'm going to leave for the gym and just text the airline about this.  So as I'm putting on my shoes, my sister calls My Mother.  There is another matter my sister wants to talk to her about.  "Has Unforgivable Wetness talked to you about it yet?" my sis says.  "No," Mother replied, "He doesn't want to talk to me about it."  And I had to shout from the bottom, "That's not true!" and I went back up to the dining room to get my face on Mother's phone to tell my sister Mother's lying, and then to tell Mother that if she wants to talk about this other matter, she should talk to me, otherwise I'm assuming she's handling it herself.  Goddamn.  I've always thought I've gotten my self-pity from Father.  But I might be wrong.

Anyway, I got the gym but had to delay exercising because I was busy texting with the airline rep, or the bot, who knows?  There are no flights available.  So I come home, see Mother at the other side of the front door ... and she's all calm and stuff.  If she weren't calm, she wouldn't even look at me.  So maybe she's gotten over what she needed to get over.

At any rate, this was a Sunday that was a little too eventful.  Glad it's over.

We're About To Shiv A Good Man

I've been mostly down for the past day or so.  I've been able to tutt-tutt away story after story about how Biden is going to drop out.  But now that a story has put a timeline on that decision -- Axios says he will drop out this weekend (I won't link to it because I will not promote bad news) -- somehow a lot of people now believe it to be the case.  Including me, I'm afraid.

I still think it's a bad idea.  He has been a very successful President.  The economy is booming and crime is down.  Most importantly, he ain't Trump.  And yet for all that good news, he looked bad one night and everybody (and all of them allies) have leaked news pieces about how senior leadership wants Biden to quit.  I don't know why that story was the one where I thought, "My God, he's actually going to do it," but my mood has changed since I saw that headline.

It continues to amaze me how many liberal writers and talking heads whose opinions I had trusted have basically gone over to The Dark Side and are openly demanding Biden step down.  Just yesterday at work, Thom Hartmann, who I think is a very cerebral guy, was not only confident Biden was quitting but spoke about this impending move with such confidence and glee.  And then he had the audacity, the balls, to say, "It's best for Joe Biden.  I don't think anyone wants to see his legacy tarnished like that."  What, the Dow Jones at a record high, the country's reputation restored around the world, jobs aplenty and the most progressive agenda this country has seen since The New Deal -- that legacy?  He had one bad night, and he has looked sharp and even feisty ever since.  And no, a bout with COVID doesn't change a damn thing.  The concern trolling by Hartmann was so startling in its juvenalia.  I don't think I can listen to this guy until Biden actually quits or after the election is over.

I am still holding out hope that these stories, sourced by anonymous people, is bullshit.  Some people I'm trusting on Twitter/X believe that to be so, and the steady drumbeat of Biden-hating has not persuaded him to quit, thank Buddha.  And yet I still marvel at the near universality of news sources and people in the entertainment industry (and I can't believe that either) who, in my humble opinion, have turned on Biden.  I wonder why, and the only thing I can think of is evidenced by the surprising fact that the progressive wing of the Democratic party is backing Biden to the hilt.  He came in as the moderate, but his legislative victories have helped millions of people that are middle- and low-income.  Somehow, this centrist has become a leftist.  And it looks like the moneyed class, the donor class that somehow pays Democrats, don't like it.  And they're the ones pulling the strings, telling Democratic leadership Biden goes or no other Democrat gets money, or telling their reporters to run hit pieces on Biden and the "worries" over his old age.

I keep falling back on a mantra -- Biden is still with it, Biden has been enormously successful, Biden kicked Trump's ass once and he can do it again, etc.  Also, we don't vote just for a man but for an administration.  There is no need to rush this; let's get Biden elected and then go from there -- if we have to.  Furthermore, there are so many obstacles the party has to overcome in order to switch candidates midstream like this, some aspects of which are unprecedented.  I believe there are two or three swing states that won't even allow a different candidate on the ballot besides Biden at this point in time.  And this will provide so many entry points for Republicans to gum up the works and inject themselves into our side of the selection process, and that would be a fuck-up that we brought on ourselves.

And there is one final point.  I believe that this coup attempt (and let's face it, that's what this is) is being spearheaded by rich donors who would thrive regardless of who is president.  The fact not enough people are heeding is that there was a chance to get Biden out of the race.  It was primary season.  I have to apologize to Dean Phillips, one of my state's representatives.  He may have been lonely leaning against the back of a rented pick-up truck waiting for someone to take his donuts earlier this year, but he was the one complaining about how Biden was old when he was supposed to challenge Biden.  Yeah, we all ridiculed and mocked him.  But it turns out he was the one who obeyed the process.  Everyone now thinks we can just name a new nominee when 12 million votes for Joe Biden have been cast.  No one can be certain that all 12 million will just be happy voting for some other person.  And no Democrat should take for granted that they would vote for the replacement just because fascism lies on the other side.  It's a fucking heavy thing to take away your vote then say, "I know what's good for you."  I think many Black voters voted for Biden in the primary.  If they all just get cancelled, this will be another case where minority voting interests are haphazardly punted to the side because some White dude wants something.  I can totally see them getting so pissed off that they won't vote for the replacement.  Why the fuck would they?  They had their opinions and they were summarily rejected.

---

I went to exercise in the evening.  There were no sports on besides the NBA Summer League.  (Aside: The WNBA should have all their teams playing Games during the All-Star break.  Now, the league did have Games Tuesday night [the night of the All-Star Game] and Wednesday, but there should be Games all four Days there isn't any regular MLB action.  And yes, I'm aware that the WNBA's Olympic break is coming up and that may be a reason why Games weren't held Monday and yesterday/Thursday.)  I dipped into political coverage gingerly, partly because The Republican National Convention was on and partly because I didn't want to get more depressed by seeing more anti-Biden news.  But I saw some better news instead.  The co-Chair of the Biden campaign went on MSNBC and insisted, again, he is not quitting.  Also, there are some other polls that show Biden remaining tied and sometimes even leading Trump, thereby blunting other polls that show Biden behind.  I still cannot and will not believe Biden can't beat Trump, and that all the zeitgeist saying Biden can't be Trump is fed by oligarchs and The Media (who, I have to tell you, has been extremely disappointing.  I used to use #IStandWithTheMedia when I tweet.  I can't fucking do that anymore).  By the way, people continue to creak open the door of possibility of him stepping down, but only if it is "his decision."  Well, a lot of people are trying to convince him to make the decision to leave, and fuckin' A, that's just fucking coercion, so IMHO, that ain't exactly "his decision."

Add to all that Trump's acceptance speech last night.  He was talking about Hannibal Lecter?  He hugged and kissed the fireman's hat and coat of the guy who died in the assassination attempt on his life like he was saying, "Thanks for taking that bullet for me."  (And you know that is what that motherfucker was thinking.)  And Biden has to quit???  Fuck that.  Seriously, fuck that.  Hey, if Biden says he's still in after the weekend is over, that Axios piece was bullshit, and I won't trust The Media ever again.  The key to the election really isn't "Vote blue no matter who."  It's "Ridin' with Biden" because that is who people who cared enough to vote when they were supposed to vote voted for.  And goddammit, cut out this divisive backstabbing!!!

Not At My Best Friday

I admit I was not at my best when I got to my screening Friday.  I was asked if I had my "order," apparently a piece of paper that I was supposed to take with me to the screening.  I was not aware I had to bring one.  I wasn't even aware that there was one.  The technician who helped me thought I had it in my e-mail; the only thing I could even come up with (and this was after I logged onto my work e-mail from my phone, something I never thought I would ever do) was a confirmation number for my appointment, and that wasn't even close.

Perplexed, seeing that my best laid plans of going to Al's Breakfast immediately after this to break my fast were ruined, and not knowing what to do, I literally bolted out of there without even acknowledging her.  I was not having it right then and there.  And although I didn't want to, my only recourse was to go to work (which, thankfully, was about five minutes away), log onto a computer, and literally go to the website where I made the appointment to see what the hell kind of "order" she was talking about.

Although I had a computer free, my supervisor thought it better to let me use hers because it was already turned on.  And she helped me find what turned out to be this "order" since, well, it had an order number, or something.  I drove back (this took me about ten minutes), hurriedly knocked on the door, showed her this sheet and the technician went, "Yep, that's it!"

And ... everything was fine.  Everything.  Well, I was an hour late, and so maybe there wouldn't have been a line to Al's Breakfast, but maybe there would have.  But I got done what I needed to get done.  Hell, I even believe my blood pressure was below 120/80, and that was after I got pissed off and drove back-and-forth.

So ... crap, an apology was in order.  I apologized to the technician for my behavior.  She said forget it.  She shouldn't.  She has a right to fucking hate for the rest of my life because I was one of those horrible customers that makes a front-facing worker's life miserable.  And for what?  Also, and I don't quite want to admit this, when I saw this "order" I had to present and show to the technician ... I kind of remember printing one out in a previous year.  I don't remember a technician taking it, but I think I at least brought it, which means I have been aware in the past of an "order" I need to take whenever I have a screening.  Which means I blew up at her for something I should have known.

To be fair, I don't think I would have been so calm if I hadn't found this "order," and not have found it so quickly.  Thank Buddha, then, for my supervisor for letting me get on her computer and for helping me find what I need to find.  I still gristle at any criticism she gives me, and I will continue to do so.  But she answers my questions at work so I can do my job.  And whenever I'm in a bind, where I am as upset as I said I was when I bogarted her computer, I can't think of anyone who can help me better.

Once again, if I didn't find this "order," or if I had to go to some damn library to print it up, thereby pushing my screening back another hour where I have to wait behind a bunch of other people (oh yeah -- when I came back, there was no line, another good break that extinguished my temper), I would not have been so sanguine about the whole situation, and I don't think I would be so apologetic now.  But when I was running around feeling like I got screwed, it never occurred to me that things could work out.  And they did, easily.  So maybe, instead of losing my temper, I should just fix the fucking problem -- one I probably made.

State Fair Thoughts

Today/Monday/Labor Day was the last of three days I went to the Minnesota State Fair.  And while the lines were longer than I remember them from last year and 2019 and before then, all three days I was truly grateful to see so many people (although I think final attendance numbers will be a lot lower than what The Media and people say they saw) having fun and hanging out with their friends and loved ones.  And frankly, the hot women showing off their bellies was something I was looking forward to, too.

What I was not looking forward to, and what I didn't expect?  The cutting in lines.  I swear it wasn't as bad as it had been in years past.  I blame Trump and the pandemic.

I got really pissed when I was trying to queue up for the bus taking me back to the lot where I parked my car.  I was about to round this metal barrier when this young, hot bitch (who wasn't showing off her belly, pffft) cut in front of me and stopped right at the end of the barrier because that's where the line ended.  I got so upset that another young person again cut in front of me that, because I was standing right there behind her, I said, "Hey."  And she said, "Hey," and probably thought I was going to kidnap her, so she and her friends went up the line and cut in front of more people.  Maybe my anger at her came off as something creepy.  OK, it did come off as creepy.  I just had no way to call out that bitch for cutting in line.  And then she and her friends were going to beat me out of the church parking lot, so even though they got off the bus first (I had a slow, old woman asking the bus driver questions while she and the others in the back went out through the back exit -- forgot about the back exit, dammit), I sprinted to my minivan because I wanted to beat them onto the street because I'm a petty, passive-aggressive son-of-a-bitch.  I showed her, didn't I?  No, I probably made her think that I was weird.  And that I run funny.  Fuck it, who cares, I did have a fantasy football draft to get to.

---

Oh yeah, one other thing.  Because of that goddamn shooting Saturday night, I believe security ramped up the use of metal detectors.  That made things really bad getting into the Fair today/Monday because I had to wait a good, oh, 5-10 minutes.  I literally carried my things in my hands to show them all the things that could set off the detector, I was told to walk through the detector, I set off the detector, and some "security" guard leaning against a metal rail pointed with her free hand to the side where another "security" guard was.  And then I waited another five minutes before I was told by that "security" guard to go through another detector, which I did not set off, and so she just waved me through.

Total shitshow.  I understand why.  Thank the gods above The Great Minnesota Get-Together somehow has not had a really bad gun incident like the one Saturday night (and, now that I see on Twitter, tonight).  But frankly, if the lines getting in are going to be long, and the lines getting to food are going to be long, and if people are just going to be rude and stupid ... well, that takes the sheen off of the Minnesota State Fair.

I started off this blog post saying how much I love the Fair, didn't I?

People Who Should Be Fired: That Either Stupid Or Trifling Bitch At Sonic

After the EURO Final Sunday I wanted to eat before going home.  I drove to Sonic because I liked the drive-thru aspect of it that day, but I don't have the app and therefore I couldn't get points for my visit.  I brought up Dairy Queen's app, but their deals didn't appeal to me.  So I stayed.

Big mistake.

This was a cash day, because when I went to Part Wolf for the soccer Match I was afraid the new owners kept their policy of charging extra for purchases with a credit card from the old owners, when the place was called the Nomad.  No matter; I needed to use cash anyway.  So I got a double cheeseburger and a dessert, and it was, like, $11 something.  I had an extra dollar and I really could have used a ten, so I gave the carhop $21 and change, expecting ten bucks back.

She later comes out with my food ... and nine bucks back.  Now I already got upcharged at Part Wolf; the Fair State I bought should have been four bucks but it was much larger than that.  I need my soccer pubs, however, and so I crammed my misgivings down because I need to keep going to this place.  But Sonic?  There isn't another one close by, but dammit, I was owed another buck.

So I hit the red button and called her back.  And I don't want to get into it because the conversation was stupid.  But she kept insisting that she gave back the extra dollar I gave her in order to get back a single $10 in change.  DO.  NOT.  GASLIGHT ME.

But you should have seen this girl's (and I mean girl's) attitude.  She basically threw a temper tantrum, with all those tsks and, "I keep telling you I gave back your dollar!"  This wasn't a worker trying to resolve a dispute with a customer; this was a brat getting into a fight with her sibling over who gets to use the family desktop.  And I don't want to be a Karen when it comes to complaining about customer service that falls well below what it should be but ... SHIT MAN, SHE RIPPED ME OFF AND NOW SHE'S SAYING SHE DIDN'T AND SHE'S YELLING AT ME!  WHAT THE HELL ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?

If I were less tired and, frankly, more sober I might have let this go as well.  But I was tired and was not that sober, so I decided to be a brat about this too to stand up for myself.  Finally, the carhop said, "Am I not going to argue this with you!" and she said it in a way where she was trying to assert control of the conversation when, I think deep down, she started believing that she didn't give the dollar back.  My fucking God.  She reached into her billfold, handed me my rightful tenth buck in change.  I grumble an "Eh," and got the hell out of there.  I have no idea what she could have pulled if I stayed there and ate.  She could have asked one of her goon co-workers to beat my ass.  So I got the fuck outta there with the quickness.  I ate those things at the parking lot of the Target.  Glamorous, huh?  Well, at least it was safer.

It's more likely than not that she flat-out forgot I gave her $21+ and then insisted she gave me the correct change because she thought she did.  The possibility that she sized me up as some pushover from whom she could graft an extra buck for her measly pocketbook pisses me off to no end.  Regardless, I got my correct change.  Unfortunately, I can't go back to that Sonic, like, ever again.  Well, at least not until she's fired.  Fuckin' A. ...

Sure, I'll Postpone Hanging Out With My Friend For Two Hours Plus To Deliver Egg Rolls, Why Not?

Yeah, so seeing my friend at the start of the Italy-Austria Match didn't happen exactly as I planned.

My parents decided to make a big feast of egg rolls, amongst other stuff, for lunch.  Excellent stuff; I loved it.  In exchange for doing so much work in the afternoon, they told me they wouldn't be making dinner that evening.  Cool; I might use that free chicken sandwich I got for signing up through the Wendy's app after seeing my friend.

Then Mother told me that she was texting with my sister-in-law: "Hey, can you bring deliver some egg rolls to them?"  They live about 45 minutes away.

Now, I have, in the past, when I was a juvenile, not been able to contain how frustrated, and even upset, I got when my parents told me to do something, especially when I had planned to do other things.  And even though I didn't throw my egg roll down and throw a tantrum, which I had down I was a kid, I could not, in that moment, help but let out a little, "Shit."  To which Mother said she could do it herself, but that's ridiculous because she's in her sixties and it was going to rain, and besides, I felt bad for acting as though I didn't want to deliver egg rolls to my brother's place, even though I really didn't.  So I said I would.

But that meant I had to push back my coffee hangout with my friend.  But by how long?  That was difficult to calculate, even after checking on Google Maps that it'd be about 45 minutes down to where they live, then another 50 minutes back up, past the house, then to the coffeeshop we agreed to hang out in.  On top of that, I had to wait while Mother packed up the egg rolls, and I have to confess that I was scrolling on my phone so long that Mother had probably already packed them in a paper bag.  Oh, and I had to use the bathroom a few times, too.  Let's just say having it come out is the price I am willing to pay for it to taste so good coming in.

I don't remember the trip down there taking so long.  But the last time I went down there was Christmastime 2019, so I could be wrong.  Plus the rain might have slowed me down, or at least slowed down the cars in front of me.  I pushed the time I was going to see my friend to 3, then 3:45, then 4, and even then I didn't show up to the coffeeshop I thought we were going to (we had our wires crossed; I went to a different Caribou then the one she found online; the one I went to closed down and the one she found has no seats inside) until 4:15.  But no matter; once we found a place (I might blog post about this later; this was sort of an adventure and relates to coming out of the pandemic), we stayed and talked for about 90 minutes -- just like I thought we would.  Good times, even if I had to push our time back two hours plus.  And I did use that free chicken sandwich from Wendy's late in the evening.

To Beg At A Door At Work

You know, I gotta admit that I'm still not over that woman yanking the sign-in book from me.  In fact, I think you can rightly say that I'm triggered.  That hasn't happened since my brother was an asshole to me in Hong Kong for Grandmother's cremation.  (I don't know if I spoken about this incident specifically, but he ripped something out of my hands while in HK, because he's a dick.)

There was a meeting on Tuesday to address a situation that led to this incident.  It appears that one factor of this person's frustration was the rolling series of people from our department that was sent en masse into the laboratory.  We all got an e-mail to stop doing data entry and go into the lab to enter forms in there into our database.  However, we didn't go in all at once; some of us needed to get lab coats, and some of us (well, OK, me) were lollygagging because we wanted to use the bathroom before we headed in because the lab doesn't have a restroom.  So what happened was people in the lab continually had to get up from their workstations, head to the door and use their key codes to let people in.  So we were told to, like, bunch up from now on.  Or something.

But there is an obvious solution: Allow access so that we could use our key codes to get into the lab.  I don't know why in the hell we can't go in there ourselves, especially since we go in there on a regular basis.  The only theory I have is that we mainly, if not first, start our day out where we are, and so we cannot just be given access to a second area of the building, especially if that second area needs to be secure because it contains the samples of piss and blood that cannot be tampered with.  But that brings us to our current stupid situation, where every time I need to get in there, I need to knock on the door, loudly, and wait for someone on the inside to let me in.  And once I am done working in there, I usually loiter around the door, hoping someone sees me moping like a stray dog in the rain and allows me to leave.  Sometimes, after waiting around for a few minutes for help that doesn't come, I have resorted to shouting for someone to get me out of there.

This pathetic cycle embarrasses me.  Imagine being at the mercy of someone's key code in order to do your job.  It's infantile; I am being treated like a child when I have a job to do.  And now I got someone pissed at me because she didn't want to sign me when I needed to be signed in?  This is ridiculous.  And I can't fucking take this anymore.

I'm supposed to have my annual review with my boss soon, and even though I have talked about this with him in the past, I have to raise my frustration with this again.  I want access into the lab.  I want to not need somebody's help to go to an area of the building I am told to go into.  I will assume more responsibilities in the lab if that gives me clearance.  I, for right now, however, will not take a different job in order to do so.  But dammit, I'm thinking about it.  Because what's happening now is bullshit.

If That Yappy Bitch At The Library Gave Me COVID I'll ...

So I went to the library Wednesday after eating.  I didn't have to, although it was time to print out my parents' LLC stuff.  I was just kind of sick of being around my parents in the evening, plus I wanted to just go out in the evening.  But mostly, it was because I have this "tradition" where, one night before Christmas, I get a mocha from the Caribou Coffee in the Lunds/Byerlys Uptown and walk around to enjoy the winter and the Christmas season.  Killing two birds with one stone.

I eat dinner, then get to the library.  I was there for just about an hour.  I looked for a computer that is as far away from other people (even beyond the cordoning-off of computer to ensure people were sitting six feet apart) as possible.  I went into the Teen Section of the library, and the only person there was this young girl at a table, seemingly doing homework, with a mask on.  Cool.

So I find and print the forms and then, just because I thought I had time, I surfed around the Internet.  Mostly shopping for gourmet chocolate and then burning through my e-mail.  And then, beyond the computer, I hear: "So what does the textbook mean about finding the vein. ...?"  (I have no idea what she said, I totally made that up beyond thinking that she said something that maybe a nursing student would say.)  And she was talking loudly, louder than library level.  I look past my computer at her ... and goddamn her, she's screaming into her phone with her mask pulled down.

Being the paper tiger I am, I now feel as though I should have said, "Pull your mask up, cunt!" or at least, "Shhh!"  But I didn't.  And worse than that, I didn't end my computer session and leave right after that teenage bitch started acting like a teenage bitch.  I stayed because I wanted to go through the 100+ e-mails I had in my inbox, and I think I had, like, 40 left, and I wanted to go through them all before I left.  I stayed 10-15 minutes, even though it might be my white-hot anger thinking I "had" to stay longer than I really did and it was only five minutes or something.  Regardless, that fucking dilettante was spewing her fucking germs into the same corner of the library I was in.  And me wearing a mask when she fucking didn't have the decency wasn't going to protect me from much.

So now I'm really worried I got it from her.  A new rash of people I see and hear on the TV and radio appear to have gotten it since Wednesday evening, and I'm freaking out.  I plan on getting tested Saturday, but knowing the high-risk situation that bitch put me in (and, to be honest, I did not immediately get myself out of), I need to get tested again about 5-7 days after Wednesday evening, and then a week after that.  But I feel really, really scared about this time around.  The coronavirus noose is tightening around the world, and this time, I think it got me, goddammit.

"Help Yourself"

So I've got three stories about free and/or found food at work.

First story

A few weeks ago -- maybe this was my first week working second shift -- there was free found lying around at a table.  I knew it was free because there was a sign saying "Help yourself"; I see that note lying around a lot whenever there is free found lying around a lot.

There were an ever-shortening pile of chocolate-dipped pretzels, which were easy for me to just pop in my mouth.  I ate several over the, uh, two days that plastic container was there.  But there were, when at least I first came upon them, a couple of ... uh, bomb pops?  Long sticks with, at the top, a ball, presumably of chocolate, but it was covered in white frosting.  Looked tasty, and it would be something I would totally take to eat.  However, I was late in getting back to work, plus I had other food to consume.  So I promised myself that if I had time after I ate, I would go check back, and if those bomb pops were still there, I would take an extra five minutes, sit down, and eat them.

So it was late one night and I snuck out of work because I needed to clear my head.  I snuck into the break room to look at the container of free food.  I was following some woman who was at the table where this container was.  She left; I looked in, and those pops were gone.  Looking up from the garbage can, she looked at me and went, "Those pops were delicious!"

"Fuck off!" I said.  No, I didn't say that.  But it felt clear to me that she was rubbing the fact that she got to the pop before I did in my face, even though I have no solid evidence she knew I wanted it and was waiting for the right time to eat it.  Nevertheless, my defense mechanism -- and my bitchiness -- roared up to the surface.  And even though I was trying to calm myself, I think what I said -- "You should not be saying that to me" -- still made my annoyance at her petulant behavior very clear.  Well, that and my raised finger.  Oh, and my frustrated tone, too.

And yet, I don't know if that is the smartest thing to do at work.  I'm sure she went back into the lab and told her co-workers, "Hey, I ate the last bomb pop in front of this guy, and I rubbed it in his face because I'm 12, and he's all, 'Don't say that to me, you bitch!' and I'm all, 'What's his fuckin' problem?'"  And now I'm getting the reputation of being a hothead, even though I was confronted by an adult acting like a child.  Fuck me.

Second story

Maybe that same week I saw, on the exact same table where the bomb pops and pretzels were, a pizza box.  And in it (of course I looked because pizza) there was more than half of the pizza still there.  I don't remember the toppings, but I do know that there were some, which is good because cheese pizza is absolutely useless, and that there was no pineapple, which is also good because mixing pizza and pineapple is an affront to humanity.  What I didn't see was a "help yourself" sign.  But dude, it's pizza -- if it's yours, why in the hell are you leaving it out on a table?  Put in one of the fridges if it's yours.  By that logic, me putting it in the fridge means that it's mine.  And that's exactly what I did.

And then, during one break, I look back inside the refrigerator and see that the whole box of pizza was gone.  So either I took a pizza that was "rightfully" someone else's, even though that person made the stupid decision to just leave it out on the table to make people think anyone could take it, or someone saw the pizza, didn't see a "help yourself" note, and decided to take it.

I really, really wanted to eat that pizza.

Third story

For the past several weeks (and this extends before my bit in second shift), someone has left free food, with "help yourself" note, on the table.  And it's been a lot of stuff ... but nearly all of it generic-looking.  First it was applesauce and these nutrition bars which does have a brand name of something called Zee Zees.  Never heard of them, but their food is good, although I don't know how this Santa Claus has procured so many of their food so often.

There has also been cookies from brand names I've never heard of and personal packets of processed, room temperature cheese, both of which I have taken home to eat.  Yesterday (and these drops usually happen on Mondays) was different: There was bread, a loaf of which had a brand name I was familiar with, and single-serving/hotel breakfast-sized packs of cereal.  I was going to take the Rice Krispies one, until I noticed the name was "Rice Crispies" -- ah, you almost tricked me, you generic motherfucker!  But instead I took the last Honey Nut Cheerios one, and I was sure to read the label, and it didn't say "Honey Nut Cherios" or some bullshit like that.

But seriously, where did all this free food come from?

Box-Of-Rocks Dumb

There was a stripper party going on last night.  Didn't feel like going.  Parties scare me too much these days.  I will make an exception under the right circumstances, but this one did not have such circumstances.  And then I was texting back-and-forth with the host, and right now, if I don't ever go to one of her parties again, I'd be totally fine with it.

I talked about her once here on Wailing And Failing.  She was hosting a party at a townhome that wasn't hers, even though it belongs to a stripper working that party.  She furtively tried to masturbate me through my pants when I got my first lapper from her, which was good.  Otherwise, she was ... strange.  Overbearing; she kept asking me if I liked her party.  Although her eyes are light blue, they always seem glassy, like it's a symptom that she's not all there, you know?  And sometimes she does not understand the simple questions I'm texting, and she misunderstands in the most annoying, dumbest way.  Once I explicitly asked her what time one of her parties ended.  She said 2.  "So a. m.?" I asked?  "No, 2 p.m." she replied.  I told her I couldn't come to her party because it's in the afternoon.  "No, it starts at 2 and ends at 9."  If you only would have looked at my text. ...

She did it again in the run-up to her party last night, and this time it was sort of the final straw for me.  I told her I would not go to her party because I was still skittish over attending parties with lots of people.  She kept trying to reassure me -- well, she first said that this party has nothing to do with a shooting that took place in the parking lot of the strip club she works at, like I fucking talked about that shit at all -- by saying stuff like, "17 Minutes is not far," and "I'm only letting a few in the house at a time," which made me think that the rest of would just have to wait in their cars or something, which is absurd.

I wasn't going.  That's the bottom line.  So I just shut down and didn't reply to her after she continued to try and convince me her party was safe.  So yesterday, the morning of the party, I texted: "I'm not coming today.  But thank you for the offer."  To which she replied, "I already know."  Bitch, you've been trying to convince me to come to your party for days now!  How do you mean you know when you wouldn't take my reasons not to go for an answer?!  And I got so triggered I had to get in the last word; last night, well after the party would have been over, I sent her an eyeroll emoji.  Because I'm over it, and her.

Right now I just don't have any patience for strippers who are dumb.  And she is box-of-rocks dumb, as stupid as they come, and it's not really close.  I mean, I have stopped talking to strippers who rip me off, and those that manipulate me in order to shake me down for more money.  But I consider them to be petty and juvenile and craven, people who know what they're doing and will go pretty far in order to get what they want from me.  This woman ... like I said, she's as dumb as a box of rocks.  I am just floored that she somehow can function in society, let alone host a party.

Maybe I'll give her a chance when I'm desperate.  But right now, I don't fuckin' need her.

Deceptively Bad Night At Home

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still Fucking Up At Work

Friday was not a good day at work.  Not only did I file a folder that needed to be sent to one of my co-workers, I accidentally scanned the images of a folder to the wrong directory.  Maybe I could be cut some slack because I was distracted due to COVID-19, but I am disappointed in myself that I have made these mistakes before and I continue to make them.

So I swing the pendulum to the other side and think that it's not NBD, but then I have to think about my supervisor who, it feels safe to say, is done with me.  I have vacillated about how she feels about me, but ever since we've been cut to half-days I feel as though she's giving me the silent treatment.  (When she told me I scanned those applications into the wrong directory, that was the first time she spoke to me in weeks.)  I think this babyish silent treatment has to do with me preparing my desk to be free of viruses.  I might blog post about that later.

I could vow to do better, but I'm sure I'll commit the same mistakes again.  Maybe that will be the reason why I'll get fired ... if I do get fired. ...

My Box

See, I shouldn't get pissed off all that much that I saw a box, a box that contained chocolates that I bought and had shipped online, was outside next to the recycling bag.  But that means that My Fucking Father went into my room, decided that I have too much of "my stuff," looked at the box, looked at the box next to it, took the contents out of the box that once had chocolates (and it contained a copy of The Handmaid's Tale and some other shit), put those in the box next to it, and took it outside.

The pettiness is coming from him.  He would take the time to take one small box out of my room ... one box that wasn't hurting anyone, including him.  There was no goddamn reason to take it out, but it triggered My Fucking Father so much that he drew a line in the sand and made a point to do so.

Pick your battles ... I broke it down and threw it into the recycling bag.

But oh, I shall remember.

Father's really pissing me off.  Today, while talking to my niece over the phone, Father started picking a fight with Mother over ... something not worthy of picking a fight over.  And he does this thing where Mother tries to talk back to him and he starts blabbing in that insulting voice where he's mimicking her, in a way to make him or her sound stupid -- you know, that sound?  Done it all his life.

Fuck this guy.  Seriously, fuck this guy.

Will I Make A Mountain Out Of A Molehill? Will I Normalize?

OK, so my alma mater go their asses kicked Friday night.  We were all frustrated.  But there was one guy in our membership -- who I know has a temper -- started cutting open a vein on our Facebook.  But, I think, it went over the line.  Many of us are upset at the head coach, athletic director and new president.  But this guy, for no reason, started going after us, the membership.  He didn't name names, but he said, "If you still believe this is the right guy for the job, you're stupid."

I don't know really know what to do.  My first instinct was to, actually, like his post.  But then I thought to myself, "Wait a second ... who's 'you'?"  Is he referring to ... me?  That's when I started to believe he made it personal.

But I haven't made a post yet.  Because I'm afraid there are downsides no matter what I do, or don't do.  I could just let this slide.  But maybe the membership is actually insulted by what he said, and is hoping I step up.  And if I don't step up, I'll be seen as feckless and they'll turn away from the group because it'll feel mean and unwelcoming.  However, if I do say something, what do I say?  I'm ruling out trying to be conciliatory and compromising because that's so worthless I would be better off not saying anything.  But what is too forceful?  I do not want to add to the anger that this guy injected into our Facebook.  And I could, theoretically, be accused of thinking he is angrier than he actually is, and then he'll start accusing me of, well, being accusatory.  It is just one guy, but this is one guy who has been active in the membership, especially relative to others.  If I piss this guy off, it's over.  Or -- and I wish I weren't so scared of this -- he might come after me.

You know, I think the thing I need to not do is be afraid of people who might want to bully me.  If that's my guiding light, I'll have to say something, and I'll need to err on the side of overreacting.  I can understand anger.  But as President, I need to do what's best for the group, and I think it's fairly simple to understand that you don't turn your guns on the group, especially when they have little influence on the hiring or firing of the heads of a football team.

Man, I just wish grown-ups would know how to behave.  That's not too much to ask.

Um, I'm Gonna Hold Onto My Umbrage

So I was working yesterday, and I was doing this thing where I needed to put down a fax number, but I didn't have it.  What usually happens -- well, at least what I thought was supposed to happen -- was that I would e-mail someone about getting it.  So, that's what I did.

A few hours later, I get back this e-mail saying that, instead of her sending it out, I am supposed to do this instead in order to look it up myself.

OK.  This came from my co-worker who uttered "I said" when answering my oh-so-innocuous question about a vegan restaurant.  There hasn't been any micro-aggressions from her in some time, so I thought it was cool.  And in the morning, before all this shit happened, she said hi to me in the hallway.  But I was surprised to see her, so I didn't say hi back.

Moreover, I understand that it is dangerous to glean tone from an e-mail.  Sometimes it's obvious that someone's telling you off.  Sometimes it's obvious that someone's not.  But sometimes it's not obvious.  And frankly, knowing our history, and knowing what happened this morning, and given that I'm paranoid by nature ... yeah, I'm not completely sure she's being condescending toward me, that she's basically saying, "Do this your damn self, Mr. I Don't Say Hi Back To People."

Now, to be fair, I've been working on a sleep deficit.  Last night I crashed after work and dinner -- two hours of sleep falling asleep just after United FC kicked off and I missed listening to the entire game, (they lost 2-0 to Chicago, so no big loss), then, after shutting off the radio, another two hours or so before remembering Emma Thompson was on Saturday Night Live (did she kill?).  So with rest, I think I can at least see that maybe she was just telling me what I needed to do.  Maybe she wrote that with the perspective that I'm learning.  (I don't really like that perspective, since I've done this before, and I can just chalk this up to making a mistake.)  And, maybe the bottom line is I didn't do it right; I talked to both my co-workers about the e-mail and they both said I was supposed to look up the number first.

But ... well, I'm a defensive son-of-a-bitch, so, um, I'm just gonna hold onto my umbrage, at least until I go back to work there Tuesday.