I Need To Stop Worrying About Bad Things That Might Happen And Instead Celebrate The Good Things That Actually Happen

Had to call Mother last/Monday night because there were a lot of bills that came in.  There were also a couple letters I thought she needed to know.  One of them dealt with a credit card that is about to close if my parents don't use them soon.  She told me to put it in a bag for mail she needs to look at "When she comes back home."  And I realized that it's been three months since they left and, even though I believe them when they say they're going to stay out in Las Vegas a little longer than they usually do, eventually they are going to come back.  And that makes me sad.  Not only have I not done a damn thing in regards to going through all my stuff, but I like living here on my own, as I usually do when they're wintering.  Them coming back, whenever that is, truly feels like an invasion of privacy.  And I will rue the day when they tell me they're returning here.

But I get down like that even though I don't know when that'll be -- or, and maybe I'm thinking wishfully, if they come back.  I know I need to look at the bright side -- very bright side in the case of Michigan winning the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament later last night.  That means I have won about a grand in this big bracket pool I've competed in for the past two decades.  While I always play hoping I would win, never in my wildest dreams would I think I could beat out almost 1,300 entries to place, get this, fourth.  Sure, I would have rather won and pocketed the five-figure jackpot along with it.  But I was much, much closer to the bottom for last year's Big Dance.  Honestly, I am more proud of myself for finishing in 4th place in this than getting my degree.

That's something worth celebrating, and if I celebrate hard enough, I'll forget that one day, and maybe soon, my parents will come back home.

My Sister The Proxy

So I told Mother that I got my passport book and card two and three weeks (respectively) after I applied online, and she asked for my help to coach her through the online application process for her and Father at a day I had time to help her with it.  I told her on Sunday that I could help her Monday evening.

Now, I've told all of you how much of a mental and emotional drain being on the phone with My Mother can be.  I think that planning a long phone call ahead of time, like it obviously was going to be when dealing with an online passport renewal application over the phone and not while I'm sitting next to her, helps remind me that I need to be patient.  What I didn't know, however, was that my sister just so happened to be visiting my parents in Las Vegas for a few days.  Awesome!  She basically became my on-site translator and extra set of hands!!  So sis, can you do the application process for the 'Rents ... and ooh, by the way, can you help me install a new modem and router in their condo, too?

This problem of theirs goes back at least a year.  Mother complains of dead spots, namely their dining room table, which is at the opposite end of the part of their condo where their old, slow, obsolete modem resides.  It needed a new one, I suspected, and then it needed something to boost its range and help the signal break through the condo's walls.  But I wasn't planning on going out there anytime soon, not as long as this Republican administration has the gall to snatch up anyone at the airport they decided they don't like, so I figured my folks would have to just suck it up.  My sister being there, however, changes everything.  I could tell her what the problem is and how to fix it.  So once I decided she could do this (and my sis made the online application process for both Mother and Father go so smoothly), I spent the rest of the night looking up the best modem and router to buy at an electronics store and bought them, then I texted her all the information for the three of them to pick up, bring home, and set up so Mother can finally stop bitching about their shitty wi-fi.

That part did not go smoothly.  First of all, the modem I bought for them has to be hooked up with a coaxial cable.  I thought every place had a coax, but apparently this condo only connects to the Internet outside via Ethernet.  My sister tried to see if the modem would work just hooked up through Ethernet, but she told me (on the phone Tuesday night while I was at the Timberwolves Game) that it didn't.  Also, the router I got for them was just one unit of those "meshes" or "pods" or whatever you call it.  I thought one would be enough.  I thought that if I bought them a second (which, presumably, would be placed as far away as the first "mesh" or "pod," which has to be connected to the modem, in order to maximize the range), they would complain that, like, "It looks bad," or something.  My folks can be that shallow.  Well, Mother complained (after my sis attached this new router to the old modem, which she had a bit of trouble reconnecting) that there still wasn't any range.

My sister was leaving Thursday, and there was no way my parents would even dare try hooking up this second router, so my sister got my brother to buy that second router, which could be delivered the next day (which was Wednesday) because he has Amazon Prime.  (This is where I expand the universe of this blog post by reminding you that after I got home from the Game, I saw that my thermostat didn't work and, ironically, decided to accept a free trial of Amazon Prime in order to buy the same brand of thermostat so that I didn't have to do any wire work to put in a different brand of thermostat, and get it delivered as soon as possible ... even though I put in a second different set of batteries which made the old thermostat finally work.)  My sister got this second router, she installed it Wednesday, and it ... well, I haven't asked Mother yet if the range is better.

All through this ordeal, I profusely thanked my sister for doing this favor -- for our Mother, because our Mother wanted it, but frankly, for me, too.  I don't think she had running to Best Buy and spending a good chunk of one afternoon installing new wi-fi as part of her plans while visiting my parents.  I recognize that I ask ... no, use my sister a lot when I want something done.  Most notably, when I feel like I can't talk to my brother about something I need him to know, I tell my sister and she tells him.  We were in Hong Kong for Grandmother's funeral several years ago, and we were not on speaking terms then, so we asked our sis to relay any messages we needed the other to know.  She recognized that; the night after the funeral service, when I took her to this bar I wanted to go to because I needed a drink, she told me she knows what both of us are asking her to do in order to keep the peace between us.  And she almost broke down crying.  The gravity of burying Grandmother had something to do with it, of course, but being the peacemaker brings its own anguish, and that is something we make her do.

She acted as if she didn't mind putting in a new modem and router, even though she had no previous experience.  Still, besides thanking her a lot for being my proxy, I wonder if there's something else I could do for her ... or does she have a favor I'll have to pay her in kind.  Either way, that's an obligation I should do for her.  She did this for me, after all.

When Second-Guessing Is The Right Thing To Do

When I leave for work in the morning, I frequently forget something to which I need to shut down the car, open the front door to my house, and disarm the alarm in order to retrieve what I left behind.  It's usually my cellphone, so it's a pain-in-the-ass to do my steps backwards and then do them all over again once I find my phone.

This time around, once I turned my car on I forgot something else, namely an envelope Mother asked me to stuff with tax forms that had to be delivered here and not to my parents' condo in Las Vegas.  I wondered when I would have the time to get to a post office to send it.  We've been so busy at work that swinging by the post office close to me would be fruitless because they would be closed by the time I'm free.  I thought Sunday would be the earliest I could do it; I would be able to go down to ****e's place for a little screw time, then in the afternoon I could go to the post office at MSP before going home.

Two things wrong with that.  First, and I don't remember when I checked, that post office branch isn't exactly on the way back.  I would have to deviate east for a bit, then jog back west in order to head north.  Second, I would be downtown both last/Tuesday night (for a concert) and tonight/Wednesday night (for a Golden Gopher baseball Game).  The downtown post office closes in the evening, so if I get out of work early enough, I'd be able to go to the post office, mail the envelope to My Mother, then do whatever I want downtown because I'm already there.

In anticipation of that, I was going to throw that envelope filled with Mother's tax forms in my bookbag so I would have it with me if I had the time to send it.  But, alas, I forgot.  Oftentimes I would remember once I am more than halfway to work, and for those time I just mentally shrug and say to myself I'll do it tomorrow.  But once I remembered the envelope after I started my car, I just kept thinking that the moonshot of leaving work with enough time to mail the envelope and then go to the concert was a risk worth taking.  So, I turned off my car, went back inside, disarmed the alarm and picked up the envelope.

And good thing, too.  While I had to stay late at work, it wasn't late enough where I couldn't still get to the post office, pay to ship the envelope, find another parking spot, and walk for almost a mile to the club to get to the concert, which began at the strange hour of 6.  And so I did all that, and I caught the last couple songs of the first of three acts and the entirety of the other two (with a DJ filling in the set changes while stagehands haul off musical equipment).  Plenty of time.  Now, I think about how badly I would have screwed myself if I remembered the envelope before driving off to work but said whatever.  Glad I trundled back inside, because a sizable chore for Mother has been done.

I'm Not Mad At Them, Just Disappointed

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

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

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

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

You Know, I Don't Think My Folks Are Leaving Anytime Soon

So Mother is about halfway through her physical therapy.  She's doing really well; she barely uses her cane, doesn't use her walker anymore (at least as far as I can tell), and she frequently is able to just walk.  What PT is honing in on now is perfecting everything -- getting her knee straight at rest, giving her knee maximum flexion when needed, and walking as perfectly as possible by strengthening all the muscles that need to be strengthened.

My thought before Mother got her knee replaced would be that once she is fully healed and cleared to fly on planes, my parents would take off like bats out of hell and winter out West.  They hate the winters here.  I know that, if they had their way, they wouldn't be in town now because the cold is settling in and the snow could come any day now.  In fact, I want to think that they're beginning to look at ticket prices and packing.  Assuming the doctor giving Mother the all-clear is a given, they could be ready before her final check-in with her doctor and leave the next day.  Makes sense, wouldn't it?

Something else has come up, however: Father's dentures are now failing.  It is now tough for him to eat solid foods.  Apparently he is going out of his way to avoid using the parts of his "teeth" that hurt him.  In fact, I think my sister said parts of his dentures are infected, and that scares me; I have heard of many, many bad things happening to people that stem from infected gums.

So Father has a dental appointment next week.  The hope is that it's not that serious and he can find someone who can fix his dentures where they winter.  But apparently he needs to have his mouth scanned, and if that turns up something more serious, there's a chance the dentist recommend him get immediate, invasive care.  And that would mean he stays put.

My sister speculated that a serious operation and recovery could take several months.  Oy -- knowing my luck, that means they're not leaving the house, are they?

Good news!  My Mother was told that her surgery could be moved up by nearly a whole month!  Now, am I to believe that someone just cancelled their surgery, and then the scheduler decided that My Mother, and not anyone else scheduled to have surgery, was the one to ask whether she wants her surgery done sooner?  Because, while I am glad that it now appears my parents can get out of here before the New Year, it feels as though the scheduler actually does have dates before Thanksgiving Week open; she just doesn't want to give one of those dates to My Mother unless or until she gets checked out, or is "doing the right thing," or "is on track to have a successful surgery," or something.

If that is the case, then after My Mother does her pre-op visit today/Thursday, would it then be possible she can be rescheduled even sooner -- like, oh, Monday?  Because then that would mean they would be outta here to salvage a good portion of the holiday season.  I'd have the house to myself for Christmas, my folks would be in warmer Las Vegas ... that would be a win-win!

So I have to help Mother pay someone out in Las Vegas.  I was going to do so yesterday/Saturday, but I totally forgot.  It's possible they don't work weekends, which would be my excuse, but if they do work Saturdays and not Sundays, the earliest I can pay this for my parents is Monday (that is, if I remember).

I am concerned (although only slightly so) that this bill is so overdue that come Monday, he'll call her up and scream at her, and so Mother will call and yell at me for not paying it soon enough.  And this illustrates how, even though I have the run of the house now that my parents are gone, I seem to have more responsibilities because the stuff my parents work on is now stuff I have to do because they're having run around the world.

I've Now Got (Less Than) Three Weeks Left Of Freedom

OK, time to drop the other shoe: My parents are coming home in three weeks.  A blindside if there ever was one.  I really, really thought that since they left for Las Vegas late, they would come home late.  Also, Mother said that they'd be returning in the summer, which means that they would have just shifted their half-year away from here later in 2025.

Then again, Mother also did say that they (or at least she; I know Father hates the winter now) have to come back in time for tax season.  Also, even though it seems that March is way too soon for them to come back here, I looked through my Franklin Quests from previous years, and they usually come back in March.  That means that, unless they promptly turn around and head back to Vegas (or go on a lengthy vacation somewhere), they would have spent only three months out of town.  That doesn't seem long for two people who want to winter in warmer weather.

Regardless, I'm under the damn gun now.  All the time I thought (or wished) I had is now a distant memory.  I do have (less than) three weeks, but I have to now think of what stuff can I go through, and how do I pack up all the stuff I want to keep.  And then I have to worry about getting the house cleaned.  It's a thankless burden, trying to get everything tip-top in time for my parents coming back.  I have to worry, but dammit, I don't want to worry about it now.  Just later, please.

Plants Stink

So I got home last night from the Timberwolves Loss -- T-Wolves suck right now, BTW -- and immediately the stench from Father's blooming plant or plants hit me.  It started the previous day, but it came out in full force when I got inside the house.  Whoa!  It was so pungent I started coughing.  I had to retreat into my room, which is as far away from the plants as you can get.  But if I ever had to step out onto the hallway -- and I had to several times because I suddenly got cottonmouth and was drinking everything in the kitchen that a human could -- dang, I could smell it.

Father is proud of his plants.  And this plant that blooms, uh, maybe once a year or less is a sign of its health.  Glad to see that vacation I took to Hawai'i for two weeks two years ago didn't kill it.  But ... golly, it smells.  I think it subsides after a week.  It'll be fantastic for Father to smell as he leaves for Las Vegas, but hopefully, that stink will die down shortly after I have the house all to myself.

Hell, I'll just say it: I kind of resent my sister being here.  I feel as though she's horning in on my space, and that she's staying for only a little while before I have to readjust to her (and my brother-in-law) leaving is only aggravating me even more.  But it's the car that bothers me.  I finally realized something obvious: When I was out in Hawai'i, I never asked to use their car to just drive around.  But while they're here, they're driving my car, and they're driving it everywhere, and they will be driving it so much I am really, really bothered and scared that, at worst, they'll get into an accident and, at best, they'll be tacking on miles and bringing big repairs that much closer to today ... and that will be crap I will have to clean up.

Come to think of it, I gave her use of my car for some, if not most, of the days the last time she visited here, which wasn't too long ago (a year ago?  Two years?), by herself, while the parents had started wintering in Las Vegas.  Does she now feel, for lack of a better word, entitled to the use of my car whenever she's in town?  That cannot be the way this works, and I feel bad if that is the impression I gave her.  But she is coming off as if she can just waltz in to the house and use my car willy-nilly.  I really don't mind if those two tool around the metro area -- within reason.  But going outstate every day while they're here?  Hell no, but that is impression I am getting from her, and I don't know if I need to set her straight.

Anyway, I need to get up in several hours to pick them up at the airport.  Hope the car stays in one piece.

Never Follow Sports

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

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

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

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

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

The Hottest Babe In The Hooters Calendar, August 2024

I had to keep this calendar in my dresser drawer and, when I was vacationing in Las Vegas, I had to throw it in my storage locker in case my parents wanted to fucking snoop around.  So suffice it to say that I haven't seen much of the calendar at all.  I took a peep last night and I don't remember the last time I had cracked open the month before last night.  But I want to analyze the month now and not wait.

Of the dozen girls featured in the month, my quick glances filter out four for recognition even though I don't know if it's a great month.  In ascending order:

In fourth place is The Main Girl, Alexis, out of Rock Hill, S. C.  She has a cute figure despite posing in a way I don't like, with her body at a quarter-angle and her right hand in front of her body to hold a pole.  But the server with long, dark brown hair and wearing a purple two-piece bikini has a cute smile, so she has that going for her.

In third place is Cassidy, hailing from Denham Springs, La.  This babe with the wavy, short brown hair is a veteran, and I am sure I have noted her for distinction in previous Hooters calendar years.  She keeps getting it done; she is kneeling poolside in what also appears to be a blue two-piece bikini, and she does that thing where she's pulling the string covering her tits, as if she's about to tear off her top.  Like I always say, I'm a sucker for that type of stuff.

In second place is Kansas City's Jenny.  Wavy long blonde hair with a two-piece of orange bordered by baby blue.  She's photographed at a quarter-angle too, but what wins out are two things: She is also tugging at that string between her boobs, and she has a wide grin.

Finally, I'm giving first place to Alyssa, of Palm Bay, Fla.  Long blonde hair, purple or deep blue two-piece bikini.  She appears to be kneeling on stairs that lead into a pool.  And while I'm not a fan of her hair dropping in front of her chest, what I love is that the front of her body is aimed directly at the camera, and that she is smirking something devilish, like she's some modestly-priced stripper who will jack you off in the corner of the strip club and still leave you wanting for more, even though you can't afford to spend more money than you two agreed to.  That's my fantasy, OK?

So, congratulations to Alyssa and the other three hot Hooters waitresses in August 2024.  I will pleasure myself to all of you once I have time.

Expenses Without Receipts

Starting from Wednesday, September 11:

• Actually I have to go back to Monday, September 9, where I had the dumbest conundrum that kept me up at night because of ... creamer.  I had run out of two and possibly all three bottles of creamer I had, and I was debating which days during my workday I would buy coffee in order to use up all my creamer.  My OCD forces me to use up every single drop of creamer, so when a bottle gets to its end, I make it go through a two-step process: I pour out as much as I can, then turn the bottle upside-down and store it in the company fridge.  The next time I use it, all the remaining creamer would be collecting in the underside of the cap, which I would carefully unscrew and pour into my reusable cup.  I was balancing that two-step/-day process with figuring out which days I could spend cash, which in itself didn't solve anything because I could have either bought coffee with it or a mocha, for which I would not need to use creamer.  But I was going to a stripper party later that night, so I decided that I would get a medium malted mocha at my Caribou which has my bank's ATM close by.  I would pay with cash, but not use the creamer until the next two days (Tuesday and yesterday/Wednesday).  It all worked out, and besides, I totally forgot the anguish I put myself through.  I also bought a chocolate croissant for myself.  With tip: $12.79.
• I already broke down the stripper party that evening.  I should add here that it was hosted not by the guy whose house was throwing the party but, of all people, the old, brokedown stripper who couldn't take the hint that I could not and would not go to her parties.  There were two main reasons why I wouldn't go: I didn't know anyone besides her, and her parties usually were way too far for me to drive to.  Well, I was invited by ******e and that's all I needed, and this place was in north Minneapolis, which is just about perfect.  I didn't even really recognize her until she brought up us no longer being in communication with each other.  But I think she's cool with it, even though I didn't get any dances from her or any of the other, half-dozen or so women who were there.  I just needed my five from ******e.  With cover: $125.
• And I think I stored a new quarter, even though it was minted last year: 25 cents.
• We fall back to Labor Day, where I made good on my vow.  Back in 2021, I visited my parents in Las Vegas.  Just for fun, we took the bus up from their place to downtown Las Vegas.  We stopped by a casino -- not to gamble, but to eat dinner, in particular a bargain prime rib dinner my parents always have a nose for.  I remember finally getting to the head of the line and the hostess, as she was checking me in, asking me if we have gambled at the casino before stopping in.  Now, you have to have the casino's rewards card to take advantage of their discount pricing and, I think, it was communicated to me that I should gamble before we ate.  We did not, of course, and I think that even though I answered yes, she swiped my newly-obtained card and immediately saw that I did not.  I feel bad for lying to her, even though my parents put me up to it, so when I made this trip to Las Vegas over the holiday weekend, I made a point of going into that casino and actually spending money.  (I had no intention of eating at that restaurant, and I am fully aware that the hostess, for all I know, no longer works there.  No matter; it's a matter of principle, and karma.)  I put $50 into a slot machine, max bet thrice, and came up empty all three times.  I think I paid my debt.  Total cost: $27.
• After I got back to the Strip I went over to the Westgate for one finally spin there before leaving the following afternoon.  I don't remember the last time I spent money there, so I plopped myself on a bandit for a minute and promptly lost money there too, namely: $10.
• But hey, I found a head's-up penny!  An Infusion of: 1 cent.
• On Saturday, August 31 I got into Las Vegas.  I got lost trying to find the bus station that would take me to my parents' condo.  I was told that I was at the wrong terminal.  I didn't know Reid had two terminals just like MSP.  So I needed an inter-terminal shuttle driver to get me back to the other terminal -- the one from which I arrived, by the way -- and find the bus station there.  The shuttle driver threw my carry-on in the back, so when I got it back from him, well, I thought I would tip him.  No one else did, but I did: $1.
• It's Vegas, so even though I got in late and even later because of the bus station mishap, the night was laid out before me, inviting me into her exciting bosom.  And I went to the closest casino to where I was staying -- the brand new Fontainbleau.  Really nice digs, even though I would probably say that for any brand new casino.  I got their rewards card, sat my butt down at a slot machine, and threw money into it in order to get some of the free play money you get when you sign up.  This time I won something, even though it wasn't enough to offset all of the $20 I put into it.  I had some of that $20 left over when I was able to convert the remainder of the free play into actual money, but the Fontainbleau took me for: $8.
• Friday the 30th -- the final of four days at the Minnesota State Fair, Buddha bless it.  Ticket, a large honey lavender lemonade from the Farmers Union, a plate called Marco's Garden from SIMS on the north end of the Fairgrounds, a short mini donut beer (with tip), paella with egg from one of the new (and good) vendors at the Fair, and a Honey 'n' Spice Espresso Shake-Up from Hamline Church Dining Hall equals a grand total of: $72.
• After the Fair I went to Casey's to gas up my car.  After I filled up I tried to get a receipt from the pump, but the screen said to go inside.  When I explained, the cashier gave me a dime back.  I don't think I was shorted ten cents, so I don't know why I was given it.  But I didn't complain.  Total: $8.90.
• On Wednesday the 28th I had to see ******e because I needed to get wanked bad.  She was as good as always; wasn't all that happy to see the children she was babysitting that afternoon.  I paid her an extra $20 because her birthday was coming up.  Ugh.  Paid her: $140.
• There is a vaunted taco place close to her called Taqueria Las Canadas.  It's housed in one of those brokedown gas stations.  The chorizo taco was pretty good, even though there isn't much of a place to eat it.  With a can of Coke to which I paid the cashier at the gas station and not the cook next to him, it call came out to: $4.27.
• Went to the Fair afterward.  Ticket, sweet clementine beer with tip at Giggles, a Peachey's donut for which I waited in line for half an hour, corn, and a Grumpy Old Manhattan, replete with smoke bubbles, from the Hideaway (plus tip) and it all came out to: $45.25.
• And I went to the Fair the day before, Tuesday, August 27!  Didn't need to buy a ticket because I bought two before the Fair began at a discount.  This was the day where I tried all the best new foods (according to all the reviewers out there).  Mancini's cheer lime freeze with tip, Richey's buffalo cheese curd and chicken tacos, the Purple Reign IPA from Dino's (plus tip and, in exchange, got purple, Prince-themed sunglasses), and Sabin's Fried Bee-Nana Pie with ice cream and the whole day cost me: $45.
• Oh, I went to get my face shaved before I went to the Fair.  With tip: $13.
• Friday the 23rd ... first time at the Minnesota State Fair.  This was the day where I concentrated on the staples, the tried and true foods that inevitably make the most money there.  A small Blu slushie with tip, walleye cakes from Giggles, cheese curds from the Mouth Trap, and a Minneapple Pie with cinnamon ice cream (for my money The Most Underrated Food At The Minnesota State Fair) where I don't think I was charged for the syrup I asked for (got away with one, I guess): $27.75.
• Saturday, August 17 was Porchfest for a neighborhood in Minneapolis where bands play at strangers' porches and lawns.  This is a real neat idea ... until I can't find parking for my car.  I bought a cup of lemonade from these two girls (and I threw in a tip), and there was this rocking band called Littleton that was impressive.  Total: $4.
• To Thursday, August 15: I needed to get skin cream for Father at his pharmacy.  Didn't need to use a credit card when it only cost: $1.
• I then went to my local movie house to see The Palm Beach Story as part of its Claudette Colbert retrospective.  I love seeing old movies, and I am telling ya, I love The Palm Beach Story.  It was fast, witty, and had dialogue and subject matter that I didn't think would be as, uh, adult as it turned out to be.  So glad I watched it!  Charged the ticket, the popcorn and the pop, but for tips for concessions and the organist I paid: $2.
• Finally, back on Thursday, August 8, I went to see my ATF at My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Edition).  Cover, tips, a Bud Light for me and a cocktail for her and twenty dances means: $232.

This is another huge gap between EWRs, but considering that, I thought catching up on over a month of these went a little faster than I feared.  Good through 9/11.

Addendum To: So Where Did The Banana Bread Go?

OK, I assume I was wrong when I said it was banana bread, because something that looked like it was in my bag Thursday was put in my bag by Father yesterday/Friday.  It was, I believe, a taro root thing Mother made that Father actually put back in the fridge when, I guess, I laid it on the counter after not eating it at work.  So, even though he packed in a banana as well, I ate that bread/pastry and brought home the banana after a super-long day at work whereby I passed up a house party where I could have gotten double-teamed by *****y and ***e**.

For the record, I got home at around 10, by the way, passed out at 11, and got up at 6:30.  I am going in to work now because my boss asked before my vacation if I could substitute today for Tuesday (when I was still in Las Vegas) so I do not have to officially take time off.  And since I didn't eat the banana late last night, I am bringing it with me today to eat at work.

Got done last/Wednesday night with the fantasy football league I'm in charge of, the one with the auction and the actual gambling.  Lost someone, so we're down to six people, but at least it's an even number.

Wanted to really, really prep for it, but between coming back from Las Vegas, needing to catch up on my sleep, and remembering that there were other things I needed to do, I really didn't have time, so I winged it.  Problem is, only one other guy showed up for the auction.  I think I cornered the market on studs, at least the ones I wanted.

I'm still bummed that I didn't act fast enough, and I botched, the last auction pick I made.  I wanted Zahir White of The Bastard Oakland by way of Los Angeles Raiders, but I got James Conner of The Bastard Chicago by way of St. Louis Cardinals instead.  I'm still somewhat cheesed off over that.  He is not the guy I wanted.

The Thing I Hate About Vacations Is That They Have To End ...

... and if they have to end, why do I even go on them?  It always ends up only in heartbreak.

I have walked enough for a lifetime.  Sweated enough for a lifetime, too.  But the main reason I took this vacation was to see my alma mater.  My feelings on this vacation largely hinged on whether or not my team won.  If they didn't, I'd feel it were a waste, and I was girding myself to the probability that they would.  But no!  They won!!  And in exciting, come-from-behind fashion!!!  So this vacation, despite the two hours I had wasted getting to this speakeasy west of the Strip and, like I said, all the walking and sweating, this vacation was totally worth it ... well, besides it all ending and stuff.

I had the run of the condo all to myself for three days.  It was glorious.  I'm glad I finally took my parents up on their offer to give me this place whenever I wanted to vacay here.  Having the whole place to myself meant I could prance around naked everywhere in the condo.  I hope they don't have secret cameras.  It is a bit spacious, but it's not like the house.  I can see a girlfriend or even my sibling (either, not both) living here with me, but it's a pretty good size for a bachelor pad.  And I could strew around my clothes however I want, or defecate with the bathroom door open, and no one would care what I did.

All in all, despite the drawbacks, I have to admit that this was a great vacation.  Even though it has to end.

Having This Condo All To Myself Is ... Now Good

I was bedeviled since getting in last night that I couldn't get the TV to work.  I just got it to work.  All I had to do was unplug the cable receiver.  Guess it needed some resetting.

Honestly, not being able to get the TV to work harshed my mellow last night, and it was driving me crazy till just now.  I will obviously be going around the city while I'm here, but dammit, I needed my TV, and if I couldn't get it to work all weekend, I would be quite upset.

The fridge is also unplugged.  I will be going without chilled food and drinks all weekend.  But I understand, because it's not the TV; it makes no sense to go out of my way to plug that in only to unplug it after three days.  But I'm drinking room temperature water, which is kind of useless in hot Las Vegas weather.  And I have to drink the rest of the Coke I got from leaving the Peppermill, and it's been sitting on the couch all night.

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Uh, what else?  I am sleeping in the guest room, and I just noticed that my parents have put up a picture of a nude woman.  So that's a choice.

Guess I Should Start Packing, No?

I leave tonight and besides piling a few things (my 3-1-1 toiletry sandwich bag, my plug-in charger and earplugs), I haven't started packing.  I think I have decided to pack clothes I am still wearing.  But honestly, I think I haven't given it a second thought.  I should; not paying attention to what I need to take with me now will open up the possibility that I am rushing to throw everything into a suitcase and not figuring out I need to bring something I totally forgot.  That's where I'm at right now.

Have to be honest: If I didn't have to use that huge Seatgeek voucher in one fell swoop, I would not take this trip.  My plan -- and I thought SeatGeek told me this was possible -- was to use these over the course of the year on, like, three or more local concerts.  But I was lied to, and so I needed a big-ticket event to use all $149 on it.  My alma mater's football opener in Las Vegas was the only thing I could think of that interested me.  And then other things fell into place that made this vacay sensible: I could finally use my parents' condo, which they have repeatedly offered to me to use for fun; I could see my alma mater for the first time in years; and I have a solo vacation to boot.  To be clear, I would not miss those things if I didn't need to use this credit all at once.  So maybe that's why I'm so nonplussed about packing: It's not as if I am totally looking forward to this vacation, even though I should be.

Welp, time to pack.

The Can Of Worms I Opened Up Is Making Me Fearful

All I asked were things about my parents' condo in Vegas when I'm using it for a few days -- how do you want me to deal with the trash, where are the bath towels, etc.  I need to know, of course.

But, like fucking always, my parents, in this case Mother, used that to ask other questions that are pressing to them but bring existential crises to me.  After she got done answering my innocent questions, she asked me if I want to buy the house.  Where the hell did this come from?  And how in the hell did you go from "Do you have soap in the guest bathroom?" to "How about I sell you the house through contract for deed?"

Now, to be fair, we have talked about this before.  They are getting up there in age, so they need to discuss the house at some point.  Also, my folks want to strip as much evidence of their Minnesota identity as they can.  This isn't a total blindside.  However, this Very Important Discussion reminds me of another step in growing up, and that's the last goddamn thing I want to do.  I don't want to stress over how to keep up with the house, so I keep it out of my mind as much as possible, even though that's exactly what you're not supposed to do.  That type of preparation scares me, and I don't need to be scared more than I have to be.

Well, now that I have one foot out the door of work, yesterday/Monday happens, where new city-instituted rules regarding paid time off actually make it easier for me to use my days off when I want to.  And then I overhear my boss saying they are indeed looking for another person to work the same position as I do.  Instead of thinking I'll get pushed out, I am thinking that there is still room to grow in the departments I work in, and thus the company is still (for now) stable.  Finally, my boss e-mailed me asking if I can work three Saturdays from now and, instead of taking paid time off that Tuesday (which is the day after Labor Day; I'm going to Vegas that weekend), I just work normally and get holiday pay for Labor Day, to which I agreed.

So now I feel secure in this job and won't look for other work.  See how easily satisfied (and compliant) I can be with just a little encouragement?