Planning World Cup Viewing Where

I have gotten obsessed with arranging my free time around the World Cup the five weeks it's going on.  I shouldn't, considering that this World Cup is being (mainly) hosted by a fascist country.  Also, it's become even more obvious that FIFA is a corrupt organization that continues to get away with suckering communities into giving them money in exchange for the right to host the biggest sporting event on the planet this side of the Olympics.  No wonder, then, that the president of FIFA, Gianni Infantino, gave Trump a made-up-on-the-spot "peace prize" just to kiss his ass, one grifter publicly proclaiming his love to another grifter.  The business side of this soccer festival should make one's stomach turn.  However, since I am plotting how I will watch as much of it as I can proves I have overlooked this evil sausage-making and, in turn, makes me complicit.

Well, my complicit ass is still going to watch, and figure out the best way to watch while balancing things such as my checkbook, the health of my car, going to my storage unit to go through my stuff (which is really chapping my ass right now the more I think about it), and just going home and relaxing.  A part of me truly relishes how to put the pieces together, but a part of me knows this can easily overwhelm me, and another part of me knows I'm capable of just saying "fuck it" and I'll completely forget all of this.

Regardless, right now I'm planning ... but only for next week.  I am trying to do the following:

• Have one day where I go work, then directly go home.  I will watch all the Games from home and eat in, and thus I will not spend any money;
• I will go out and watch at least one soccer Match at a bar or establishment boasting about televising the World Cup;
• I will go out and watch at least one soccer Match at a Mexican or Latin American restaurant that has a TV and may or may not be televising the World Cup;
• I will go from work to my storage unit, where I will spend at least the majority of one soccer Game listening to it on Sirius XM while going through my stuff.  I will not spend any money and instead go straight home after the Match is over;
• Oh, and I promised ******a that I would see her at the strip club one night.

My original guiding principle on which weekdays I'd do each of the above depended on whether I could watch the Match on FOX/Channel 9.  If it wasn't on there, I figured that wasn't a day I should just go home; either I would watch at a pub or restaurant that had Fox Sports 1, or listen to it on satellite radio at my storage unit.  But then I remembered that Telemundo is over the air and is airing every single Match on free TV, albeit in Spanish.  Soccer is universal, so watching any Game from home was back on the table.

But then I saw last/Friday night's South Korea-Czechia Match, and for some dumb reason the audio and video were out of synch.  I'm hoping it's a one-time glitch, because if it's not, I won't watch Telemundo anymore ... which might actually make planning easier because it removes the possibility that I could watch any Game at home.  Fix this, Telemundo.

Another consideration I, um, considered is the quality of the sides playing.  I want to see competitive Matches, and once the final roundelay of Games comes around, the stakes are going to influence which ones I watch and thus where.  But the field for the World Cup has expanded from 36 to 48.  That means a lot of new teams -- and a bunch of teams that are not good and should get easily dispatched in the Games they play.  Also, there is a fifth round of Knockout Stage Matches now, which means 32 teams will advance out of the Group Stage.  Allowing 2/3 of the field into the "playoffs" makes the "regular season" Group Stage Games somewhat less important, even if the final Group Stage Games will determine who comes in last in each Group and thus is automatically eliminated.

The more I think about it, the more I've decided that I want to dedicate my attention to matchups that feature good XI's or countries that appear to be evenly matched.  If there's a Game that doesn't satisfy either condition, I am beginning to think it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to only tune in to it in the middle of the Match, or even, for example, bail on the Game and leave an establishment early.  It is hard to eat out at a restaurant for two hours so you can watch a whole Game.  And speaking of whole Games ... I realized that when I get out of work each day will dictate whether I go home, my unit, or out to watch.  Do I want to go out to catch the back end of a lopsided Match between two nations that have no chance of winning the World Cup?  Maybe, actually, and I'll save the days I go directly home for when I am able to watch a good Game on paper in its entirety.

You can see how I am weighing a lot of things, right?  Yeah, maybe I'm overthinking this.  But I don't want to spend money I can't afford, I want to start eating the food at home that I've bought, I don't want to tax my car, and I do want to start cleaning up my stuff.  So, considering all of that ... I still don't know.  Guess the only really important thing to me is I just want to watch some soccer.

Eating Out Of Order

By that I mean that, pretty much all my life, once I eat something I consider light or dessert, that's the last thing I'll eat that night.  I've just never thought I could, or at least should, eat anything else, and especially anything that would be polar opposite of that light snack or that dessert.  It just shouldn't be done -- else there would be chaos.

I have breached my rule the last two nights, and I feel bad about it.  Wednesday night, after suffering through a lethargic Loons Loss, I went home and ate several Girl Scout Cookies.  But I had to stay up to do the WMNSS.  While going through it, I felt my body telling me to go to bed immediately.  However, I had to stay awake to finish the survey, and I then developed this hunger for the deli meat I had in the fridge.  So, even though I ate dessert (the Girl Scout Cookies), I went into the fridge and and pulled out one piece of ham and one piece of roast beef and wolfed both down.  And they hit the spot, ngl.

Last/Thursday night, after a long and stressful night at work, I went home, downed a snack pack of Chex Mix, then made myself a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich, which was the only thing I was planning to eat for the night (and I was going to chase it with what turns out to be the remaining amount of milk I have).  But dammit, I got hungry, and so I finally ripped into one of the two pizza Lunchables I bought from the discount store close by me.  It was time I tried these for the first time; when I was young I was obsessed with the original Lunchables, where I would stack the cracker, meat and cheese in different orders.  But pizza?  Never had it till just this past evening, and though I wouldn't say it was the best pizza I've ever had, I didn't mind it at all.  I just feel weird, and wrong, to eat pizza after I ate a PB&J, which I consider both a light snack and, in some frames of mind, dessert.  Can I break free from my wrong order-eating sins tonight/Friday night?

NO, NOT HOOTERS!!!

Heard it on Common while working yesterday/Thursday afternoon: Hooters and The Mall Of America is closing for good.  Last day's next Sunday, the 22nd.  Goddammit.

First things first: I have kind of an obsession with stores that have been at the Megamall from the start.  (The store can't move from its original footprint.  Also, it can be renovated, but it might not count in my eyes if it, say, closed down in order to make those renovations.  Length of time is important in this case.)  Hooters was one of them.  With it being gone, what's left?  Macy's?  Nordstrom?  Cinnabon on the 1st floor?  That alpaca place that somehow stays in business?

But I am sad about what I think of as an institution closing down.  That breastaurant made me a man.  I'm joking.  Well, only half-joking.  Well, that half-joking part is perverted as hell, because going there was the first time in my life I felt good about being proud of looking at gorgeous women dressed daringly (or at least how I thought daring was at the time).  I think the first time I went to Hooters I went with my high school buddies.  My friend noticed that our (hot) waitress was stuffing a pack of cigarettes in her fanny pack, and I thought that was the hottest goddamn thing ever.

Hooters MOA overcame a flurry of sexual harassment lawsuits early in its tenure to just be the place teenage boys go to begin to get in touch with their heterosexual desires, and for parents to bring their boys to prevent them from becoming gay.  I went from time to time to ogle, of course, but there are a few servers there that I'm familiar with.  No way are we friends or anything, but I think that we are acquainted enough that whenever we see each other, we smile, and that's great.  My "relationship" with Hooters was cemented over the past several years once I decided to buy the Hooters calendar every year and, if possible, get it autographed.  It was nice to have the sexiest Hooters girls sign.  I even took the calendar to other parts of the country if I were vacationing so I could have other Hooters girls in other branches sign it.  And, of course, I came back ... well, not because of the food per se, but for the coupons that came with the calendar.  If I spend $15 when I visit this month, I get a free dessert.

I planned on going Thursday to get that free dessert, and to watch the actual start of March Madness, but now I must go.  And I probably will go that Sunday too, its final day.  Thirty-three years, man, a third of a century, and they said it wasn't making enough money.  I will miss the fuck out of that place.

You know, come to think of it ... I know the perfect place to replace Hooters -- Twin Peaks.  Same concept, they're growing (the company, not my dick), and even though the closest stores are in Fargo and Omaha, it might be time to bring one to the Twin Cities.  And who knows, maybe those Twin Peaks girls will do things beyond my wildest dreams.  No, probably not.  But a lonely hetero perv can dream, and Hooters allowed me to do that.  RIP, Hooters Megamall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Quest To Find A New Pair Of Glasses Comes To A Surprising End

OK, so I am getting new glasses today/Sunday.  I have an updated prescription for lenses that I haven't changed in, like, four years.  Plus, I think my HSA through my employer is going to change next year.  I could be wrong.  In fact, there's a good chance I'm wrong.  But I don't have time to understand it, so I'm just going to pay for new glasses before the year's out.

The problem, for me, became formal.  Do I want new glasses?  As resistant to change that I am, and as much as my current frames fit my face and personality, I decided I could use a shake-up.  But, I ran a poll where I sent for five pairs of glasses from Warby Parker, and I have decided that I am going to go for the one that finished second in the poll.  (Two of them were far and away the most popular amongst my real and Facebook friends, and I went with the more popular, which had just a few more votes.)

The problem is that I could not find the name of the frame that finished second.  I swore up and down that I made a spreadsheet for it, but I couldn't find it.  So for the past few days I have been looking at the Warby Parker website to compare their frames with the one I wore in my picture which I posted for my friends to look at.  I was looking at every detail to see if what I was looking for was actually the one I was looking for.  I was looking at the what the bridge looked like, how thick the sides of the glasses were, etc.  I was getting a bit obsessed, to be honest.

Finally, I found that Excel spreadsheet.  I did write down the names of the frames that were the most popular on the spreadsheet.  And, it turns out, the two frames are no longer sold by Warby Parker.  That's why the one I was looking for I couldn't quite find on their website; they no longer make them.  Either of them, actually; I was wrong in thinking that the frame that won my Facebook poll is the one that I'm currently wearing.  It isn't.  Should have realized that when I was frantically looking at these photos I posted, I was asking my friends to pick out my glasses ten years ago.  I changed frames since then, maybe twice.

So never mind all that.  There are a couple of frames that I could go for, but I really just wanted to go back to selected that old frame, and since I can't, I'll just get a new pair with the same design that I'm wearing now.  If it ain't broke, don't fix it ... even though I thought about fixing it.

Toast-Yays! I Salute You!

Fantastic Frozen Four Final (for the women) yesterday/Sunday afternoon at Ridder.  Ohio St. was up on Wisconsin, 3-2, when, with 18.9 Seconds left, play was whistled dead on a huge scramble in front of the Buckeyes' net.  The Badgers challenged the stoppage; they said an Ohio St. player covered up the puck while it was in the crease.  After review, the officials determined that was the case.  The remedy for that: A Penalty Shot, which Kirsten Simms, a Junior Forward from Plymouth, Mich., deked home for the tie:

Just more than two Minutes into Overtime, Simms put away a rebound for the OT Winner, and Wisconsin (and by the way, Ridder Arena was jam-packed with about 85% Badger fans; the atmosphere was excellent, but seeing Ridder become Madison West has to be fucking disconcerting for the U., and if Mark Coyle doesn't feel ashamed, he should) won its eighth title overall and fourth in the past six seasons.  Great Game -- and I paid only $13, the face value of the ticket, to watch it!

Anyway, as I was leaving, I saw, of all people, a Girl Scout and her mom selling cookies.  Don't know if I would've thought to do that, but what do I know?  Anyway, I am obsessed with the fact that the Toast-Yays! are going to be discontinued after the season.  I've had them before, and I liked them so, to, well, commemorate their "retirement," I had already bought a box.  And you know what?  They're even better than I thought!  The icing is great, but the cookie part is sensational as well.  There's something dusted on top of it, and that really makes each Toast-Yay! pop.

This is an underrated cookie.  If the Girl Scouts stop making Toast-Yays! because they're not selling, well, the people have no taste in good cookies.  So I bought another box, right outside of Ridder.  I'm just about done with the first one, so I'll probably quickly eat my way through the second.

RIP, Toast-Yay!  You have been done dirty.

Urges: One More Day ... OK, Maybe Two More Days

In the mad scramble to prepare for my sister and brother-in-law coming here, I needed to take my jerk-off towel to my storage unit.  My sister never comes into my room anymore.  She thinks it smells.  On the hand I'm upset that she finds me so repellent that way.  On the other ... well, that means that she won't touch my shit and will leave me alone, and I always will like that.

Now, with that being said, I am paranoid enough to think that she would go into my room and peep around when I was away at work, just to be nosy or if my fucking parents goad her into doing it.  And it's not as if there's a lock in the closet.  She could have just opened it and smelled it and saw it right there.  And come to think of it, I find it very weird to try and rub one out while they're in the room on the other side of the wall.  Maybe that was the reason why I took it out of here.

Anyway, I have been able to refrain from masturbation for the past week-and-a-half or so.  Moreover, it's been pretty easy, "thanks," I guess, to my slowing libido.  There's this one chick on Zishy I have been obsessing over tonight, though.  I just found out she has an Instagram and an OnlyFans; maybe I'll be able to check her out once my sis and bro-in-law leave -- and not have the urge to wank before then.

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Meanwhile, I'll confess, I have not been, uh, evacuating my bowels a lot since they got here.  I don't think that has anything to do with them being here; my body just goes through cycles like that.  Until now, thankfully.  I've had my first, um, productive evacuation in a long, long time.  I don't think I ate anything out of the ordinary yesterday/Saturday -- just Chinese food and wonton soup.  I don't consider them to be fiber-rich foods, so I don't exactly know why I had a good bowel movement now.  Maybe it was just time.  If so, good, because I haven't felt this good since at least Tuesday!

I Have To Admit -- I'm Really Starting To Resent Them Coming Here

Yeah, it's the disruption, the (kind of) lack of privacy, and, once again, my sister's need to make things all about her.  She gets that way sometimes, but mostly on big occasions where she's the center of attention, and it pisses me off.

The last time she was here she wanted all the suitcases we have stowed in her bedroom out of her bedroom, and she wanted all her bedsheets washed.  Now, I think normal family members would of course do that for her, and wouldn't need prompting.  I am not normal.  I could sleep in dusty bedsheets for all I care.  I just need a clean damn bed.  But no, she wants what she and my brother-in-law are going to sleep in all clean and fresh-smelling, even if they're only going to be here a week and a half.

And I think I touched on this before, but this dinner in St. Paul on Sunday is really grinding my gears.  First of all, my sister wants to use my car, and I'm going to give it to her.  Also, it seems really damn inconvenient for one group of people who are staying in this house to go out to St. Paul and then have the people who live in the same house go out to St. Paul later that same day.  And then my folks told me on Saturday that the minivan, the vehicle I will purportedly be using whenever my sister and brother-in-law want to use my car, had its headlights short out.  I had to buy them on Amazon; they might get here before they get here, and they might not.  And on top of all that, I realized that the Wild are playing in St. Paul on Sunday, and around the same time as the early dinner.  I am not that familiar with St. Paul, and now I have to worry about getting stuck in hockey traffic, too??

Once I realized the minivan had no night lights and I'd have to deal with Wild traffic on Sunday, I obsessed over it all day at work yesterday/Monday -- like, distractingly so.  I really do love my sister and brother-in-law, and I really want to spend some time with my niece, who is the reason my sis and bro-in-law are taking my car on Sunday.  But I hate, hate, hate these dinner plans the more I learned what I have to deal with.  I could feel my body well up with rage and anxiety and dread and helplessness because I feel forced to do something I really, really don't want to do.

And then it hit me: If I don't want to go, don't go.  At first that thought was insane.  I don't see my niece a whole lot as it is.  If I don't see her on this opportunity, I don't know when I'll see her again.  Also, has she noticed how seldomly I see her?  If I make the decision not to go, well, she has to know, and what will she think of me?  But as I kept thinking yesterday ... you know, my sister did raise the idea that I didn't have to go.  And I am such an incorrigible bastard that I might say, yeah, screw it, I'll see you guys some other time, tell my niece I say hi.  Frankly, I'm leaning that way right now.  It is selfish and self-centered of me, but once I started being more accepting of that decision, a weight was lifted off of me.  And I would do anything for peace of mind, even ditching family.

So I texted her my concerns.  I asked her if our parents wanted to go to dinner and she said yeah.  Guess I should have talked to them directly since, you know, I live with them.  Anyway, my thoughts are moot if they want to go; I can't not go if they're going.  Then again, their desire to go to dinner on Sunday may be moot if Amazon can't deliver these headlight bulbs in time.  (Yes, they can go to a store to get them, but Father did that on Saturday, and he's so goddamn cheap that when I told him we could get bulbs through Amazon for less than half the price he got them at Wal-Mart, he immediately went back and returned them.)  My sister couldn't foresee this shitshow, but in a shitshow like this, maybe this isn't a good idea, you know?  But these fucking plans are going through, and I have to be the dutiful brother/son and just fucking fall in line, no matter the stress and stupidity of the whole thing.

So I'm Kinda Thinkin' About The Lynx

Had dinner with a social group after work last/Friday night, and I ate and drank (and had ice cream at Sebastian Joe's for desert) so much that I got really tired.  Once I got home around 9, I tried to watch Big Ten men's soccer, but my body told me to call it a night.  I made sure to pull the Zynga Poker slot machine once to stay on schedule, then around 9:30 or 10 I turned off the lights, and it was lights out for me.

The Lynx were playing Game 4 last/Friday night.  I avoided even overhearing the score because one more Loss meant they lose the WNBA Championship.  So although I was tired, I turned in mostly to avoid the result of the Game.  I fear the worst, of course, but I had these thoughts that the Lynx won.  And later, I had thoughts that the Lynx lost.  I think I was aware as I thought both opposing thoughts that I was dreaming it (or, in the scenario that they lost, I was having a nightmare), but I still felt euphoria when I thought they had won and resignation when I thought they had lost.

Woke up around 8:30.  At some point I knew I had to come across the result.  I was going to allow Twitter/X to tell me, but I looked at my Facebook first, and at the top of my screen I saw a fellow alum's feed of him at Target Center.  And he wrote a caption: "LYNX WIN!"

Cool.  So they won.  And now I'll be fearing they will lose Game 5 Sunday, and I'll have nightmares tonight about it.

I Suck At Fantasy Football

Of the three fantasy football leagues I'm in, I am, after Week 6 finished last/Monday night, above .500 in the one I run (which now has only six Managers after one of them, the son of my best friend, left), at .500 at the one at work, and 1-5 in the one I have cash money in.  And goddammit, I am obsessed with the league I have cash money in.  Not only because I have cash money in it, but also because I am 1-5, and have, more often than not, been awful in that league.  I have finished second once, winning $100.  But I have finished out of the money every other season, and more towards the bottom of the league than the top.

I don't know what it is.  I have one theory that since the commissioner of this league doesn't freeze free agents, every other Manager in this league scoops them up as soon as they see a player blow up and have a great game.  But I think I did that this year pretty well, and I'm still getting my ass kicked.

This week may have been a new all-time low.  My opponent had Marvin Harrison, Jr., and James Cook in his starting lineup.  Harrison left the Game in the Second Quarter Sunday after suffering a concussion and accumulating no points for the Manager.  Cook had a bad toe, and it was announced before his Game last/Monday night that he was out.  Still, the guy I was facing didn't replace Cook with anyone playing the Monday night Game.  He may have been busy, but he may have noticed it didn't matter, because he was beating the shit out of me.  Going into the Bills-Jets Game last/Monday night, he was leading me by about, I think, 104 points.  I had Josh Allen, Khalil Shakir, and Tyler Bass, but of course it didn't matter; he doubled me up, 141.32-70.50.  Two of my dudes, Allen and Bucky Irving, reached double-digit fantasy points.  Of the ten players that comprise our starting roster, seven of his reached double figures, and remember, two of his guys gave him nothing, absolutely nothing.

And here I am, completely embarrassed, again.  Why am I throwing money away at something I'm terrible at?

Have I Mentioned How Much I Hate Going Into The Lab?

I don't know why my work schedule is getting to me this week, but it is.  I was in The Fourth Department to start off the week, and then yesterday/Wednesday I was in Filing for the first half of the day, then keying the back half.  Today/Thursday I am in The Third Department to start off, but only for two hours, then I'm in My Main Department the rest of the day, working the scanner in the afternoon, and I don't know how good I feel about that.  Finally, tomorrow/Friday I'm out there all day, including my weekly trip into the lab to cut open packages and reach into piss.

My time in My Main Department increases throughout the week from zero to four to six to eight, and while I usually like varying my workday because it keeps me awake, seeing my workweek end in the lab this week puts me off.  It ends my week with a thud.  I prefer (at least right now; my mood can change if you ask me another time) getting the worst part of my job out of the way in the middle of the week because my workweek only gets better from there, while this week will end in a nadir.

It probably is my own fault, but I have made little to no effort to make my time back there a good or even an endurable one.  Case in point was my time in there last week.  I unfortunately had to work next to the old hag, the one who threw a package I shoved her way in order to get all the work done.  Partly because of that, uh, incident, but also because I was in hell, I just kept to myself -- I didn't grouse or bitch, but I certainly wasn't gregarious.  I just did my job in order to be done with it.

It is possible that this, uh, lab worker was making entreaties to me, but I admit that any time she said something to me, I kept my comments to a brief "OK" without making eye contact.  Was it possible that my terseness was the reason that, when I moved over an open package from one side of the table to the other, she angrily yelled, "Leave that over there!  We are closed!"?  Probably, possibly, who knows?  All I know is that because of that moment, I am justified in not acting totally friendly to her.  Seriously, what is her fucking problem?

Meanwhile, my problem is that I hate this part of the job so much that it's beginning to affect my whole job.  I don't have to do this crap until tomorrow and I'm allowing it to piss me off.  But I can't help but think about it because I know I will have to do it.  You know, that reaction should be impetus enough to find a new job.  And I guess I will ... when I have the time and the energy to do it.  Which is not now.

So my boss e-mailed me yesterday/Thursday saying, and I think I've got this right, "Since you had overtime Monday and Tuesday, let's have you leave early today (meaning yesterday/Thursday) and tomorrow (meaning today/Friday)."  Wait ... what the fuck is this "let's" thing?  I don't think this is a good fucking idea!

That e-mail blindsided me.  But maybe I should not have been blindsided by it.  My boss continues to harp on me about OT, all the way through to the performance review I had last month.  But it seemed at the time as if he finally understood the energy and time I have to devote to do the job right and get all the forms I'm asking information for processed once I get answers to my questions.  Also, and he was a bit candid about this during my performance review, but he is under pressure from his boss or bosses to make sure I don't accrue overtime.

With that being said, I hate being told the day of work that I am supposed to leave early that day.  Beyond the surprise, though, I don't like that, basically, I am being told how much money I can make.  Maybe I shouldn't be shocked.  He has told me to leave early when the work that day is light.  But I don't remember being told I have been cut early that way.  And that bothers me.

Maybe my rationale has nothing to do with what happened yesterday/Thursday, but I have gotten used to racking up OT.  When I started this job, I was only working 40 hours a week.  That was fine because I didn't know any better.  But then I got walloped by The Fourth Department, and after a lot of hemming and hawing, I realized I had to stay late to do the job properly.  That's overtime, and I have been cranking out hour after hour of OT and receiving remuneration for it.  If that remuneration stops, it feels like someone is just arbitrarily taking back the money I was making for my hard-earned work.

Potentially losing money I, frankly, have come to expect, has been weighing on my mind so much that ... you know, I'm tired, and I want to go to bed, and I think I am going to just let that last half-line alone. ...

Thirty-Four Years Ago Tonight, I Discovered I Had Hair Around My Dick

I have wanted to blog post about this for so long, but I only wanted to do so on the anniversary, and every time it rolled around, I forgot.  I forgot late last night when I spontaneously decided to blog post about how I'm years behind balancing my checkbook.  Well, it's time to talk about it now.

So yeah, January 10, 1990 ... I remember sitting on the toilet, either going #1 or #2, and scratching my groin.  Naturally I looked down ... and, by God, I saw hairs surrounding my dick.  I was only 13 at the time, and I remember being absolutely terrified at the changes to my body.  I think I was beginning to get obsessed with hairs underneath my arms.  I was really frightened by all the hairs that were starting to appear on my legs, and I spent many a time plucking them out.  My trichotillomania was a bid to stop my body from rebelling against me.  I had heard of this concept called "adolescence" as soon as I started 7th grade, but I didn't pay any attention to sex ed class at school, so I learned about what was about to happen to me through friends and classmates.  And it scared the shit out of me.  So I vainly hoped to remain looking like the same person I have gotten used to by plucking the fuck out of myself.

But the hair around my cock?  Don't know what I could do about that.  It's not as if I could pluck all those hairs down there; it'd hurt like hell.  I don't know if I saw any dick fur in any of the porn I saw up to that point, but I heard about pubes before I got them myself.  No, I was not happy, nor proud that I was "becoming a man."  It was the most glaring sign yet that my body was transforming, and in ways that metaphorically dropped me to my knees in fear and sadness and helplessness.  It was already a hopeless task to pluck all the hairs on my legs and in my pits.  I just knew, once I felt my hair down there, that it was game over for me.

You know, my body is changing in ways I don't understand now, too, just in a different way.  Well, I understand why it's changing now -- I'm getting older and I'm not totally watching my diet.  That's why my belly has been getting bigger and bigger over the course of the past two decades, and why pants that used to fit me just fine I am now straining to suck my gut in to, then fearing that the button will pop out and fly across the room.  (That's happened once or twice to me already.)  But I am not confused about what is happening to me now like I was then.  Just resigned.

---

By the way, I am absolutely certain that in prime time that night, I was watching an episode of Quantum Leap (The Original Series staring Scott Bakula, not the revival that's on right now of which I have seen  only a minute) that mirrored my "discovery" later that night.  Bakula leaped into the body of a mother whose son is running away because he didn't know what his body was doing -- maybe.  In one scene, Bakula was captured by a group of random men, and one of them tore open the front of "his" dress.  I'm sure Bakula got out of it without getting assaulted.  Anyway, the theme of changing and sexualizing bodies became apt for me that evening when I relieved myself in the bathroom.  And it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I have never, ever been the same ever, ever again.

Blows To The Back Of The Head? Not A Good Thing

Ever since I saw The Hunger Games prequel a couple weeks ago (by the way, excellent movie -- The Hunger Games series has always excelled in exploring the idea of putting on a show and cultivating narratives, and how people plot what they want the world to see when their reality is a lot messier and sinister, and also, Rachel Zegler can fucking sing), I've been obsessed with blows to the back of the head.  We're really vulnerable back there, you know.  Our skulls are pretty thick, but every time I see a movie involving a killing, whether it be a blow or, in The Ballad Of Songbirds & Snakes, a fall from a high place (poor guy), it's always to or on the back of the head.  We don't have eyes back there, so we don't know what's coming.  And if you've got a heavy object or a bullet that can shatter the skull, boy, you're dunzo.

I just looked up "safety helmets" on Google.  The results that come back feature helmets for the elderly to protect against falls.  I am looking for helmets that protect against falls in the workplace or, say, while you're on a ladder doing work around the house.  Or for, say, walking around slippery ground, which it is around here after the light dusting of snow we just had.  If I fall backward and hit my head ... well, I'm old now, and I don't know if I can come back from a blow to the back of the head like I used to.  That's why I sometimes wonder if I should shell out for a safety helmet -- for work, of course.  Or for winter.  Or both.

That's all I got.

I just went through a whole slew of things I need to do around the house in order to tidy up for my parents, and yet the one thing, the one very thing I've been thinking about all night is how to answer this asshole on Twitter.  Obsession is a two-way street, especially with a guy who really needs to get his ass kicked, but I have to respond.  I hope I can do it perfectly, and then go on about my night.

Past Me Saved Present Me

Went to work without my earbuds.  Totally sucked.  I could say I was so wrapped up with the drama surrounding my flat tire over the weekend that it completely made me forget about taking the buds out of my long coat (which I wore on Friday because I was going to a speakeasy after work and I wanted to look somewhat cool) and put them into my regular coat, but I would have forgotten regardless.  It was a helpless damn feeling.  I could work without them.  In fact, I probably would be more productive without the distraction of listening to something I'm more interested in.  But the day would have been long and boring, and I would hate myself all day for not remembering them.

I was working at The Fourth Department yesterday/Monday, but went out to my desk a few times just in case I left a pair of old earphones there.  I remember once forgetting them, and I vowed I would, at the worst, find a crappy set of phones and keep them at my desk in times like this.  But I couldn't find them.

However ... I went back to my desk one final time.  I still have the box for my Zojirushi coffee mug, one that still works.  I remembered that earlier this year (I think), I put something in that box for safekeeping.  What it was I truly didn't remember, but I was do desperate to find some earbuds that I figured I'd just open it in case a miracle happened.

Well, guess what?  I open up the mug box and I see a smaller box.  I still don't know, or remember, what it was.  I open up the box ... and it's a brand-new pair of headphones.  And then I remembered: The earbuds I usually use no longer work in my left ear.  That prompted me to buy a new pair on Amazon.  And when it was delivered, I decided I was going to stick with my old ones until the left earphone stops working, but to make sure I don't skip a beat, I would keep them at work.  I was going to break them out the moment my old earbuds stop working, but I don't mind breaking them in now because I was forgetful.

I am kind of shocked that I forgot that I bought and stored brand-new buds at work.  And I didn't even have an inkling that I would find earphones to use in that mug box.  I just remembered putting something in that box not too long ago, and I was desperate for earbuds.  My prayer was answered, and just in time to hear The Rude Pundit on Stephanie Miller!

Similar to finding the right solution to a math problem without doing your work correctly, I was happy to use these brand-new buds even under circumstances I did not anticipate.  I'm just happy I did make the decision to bring those brand-new earphones to work back then.  Past me did indeed save present me.

So I Just Made A Hotdish ... I Think

(And by the way, we here in Minnesota call it a "hotdish," not a "casserole."  It's like we play Duck, Duck, Gray Duke and all y'all play Duck, Duck, Goose: Minnesota's version is way better.)

So a month ago I saw this story on a local station about The First Hotdish Recipe.  As a Minnesotan would suspect, it came from a housewife and was published in her Lutheran church's cookbook.  I am a sucker for experiencing superlatives, so despite not being able to cook, I became obsessed with at least thinking about making this dish.

Somehow, the transcription of the story on the station's website does not have the recipe.  But after searing around the Internet, I found it on a website called Ramshackle Pantry.  Seems straightforward enough; I may not cook, but I think I know how to follow instructions.  Two of the things you need to do are cook the hamburger (which I'm guessing is ground beef in modern parlance) and cook the pasta, and I know how to do both because I make spaghetti.  Everything else appears to be a case of just buying the stuff, throwing them all into a baking dish (which I had to buy, ironically), and not being afraid to use the stove.

After some thought, I deciding I was going to do it.  And then Mother told me they'd be home in late March (which is just two weeks from now), and considering all the other food I had bought for myself, I thought I had to eat all that stuff first.  Besides, clean-up is going to be a mess.

So I put it out of my mind until maybe the next time my parents leave.  But then some things just started coming together.  For one, someone from work left a can of refried beans in the break room one day.  For some reason, I took it.  I thought I could combine it with the rice I would make for myself one of these days because white rice by itself is boring.  A few weeks later, however (which was a couple weeks ago), I saw carrots and onions in the break room, presumably left by the same person.  The original recipe called for onions, so I took those.  I don't remember why I took the carrots.  But shortly thereafter I realized that this is food I also should eat up before my folks come home.  And the thing is, carrots and refried beans are not part of the recipe.  But I concluded that if I don't make some kind of hotdish, I would be wasting all of this food I took home with me.

So, after I modified and/or chucked a lot of the ingredients, I decided to make it.  I substituted the carrots and the beans for the celery and the peas in the original recipe.  I had half a box of seashell pasta from the time I made spaghetti, and I saw Mother left a small portion of angel hair pasta in a box in the pantry, so even though the original recipe called for rotini, I forewent that so I could use up even more leftovers.  And once the secondhand baking dish (as recommended by The Wirecutter) was delivered home via Amazon, it was time to try making it.  And I tried last/Thursday night.

And it turned out ... uh, it turned out.  First of all, the guy from the Ramshackle Pantry website said prep time is only half an hour, and that's crap because it took me more than two hours to peel the carrots, wash the refried beans, cut the onions, cook the onions and ground beef and make the pasta.  Anyway, I couldn't throw into the baking dish all the ingredients I wanted to use because it got too full.  One thing I noticed from the original recipe is that it wasn't as "bindy," or cheesy as I though hotdishes should be.  Apparently a creamy soup helps with that, and it just so happened that I bought a can of Campbell's Cream of Chicken soup that I hadn't gotten around to eating with the bowl of rice I haven't yet made.  But after adding the carrots and the beans and the onions and ground beef and diced tomatoes (I kept that from the original) and the pasta, I thought adding the soup was going to spill the whole hotdish over.  I thought it was going to spill over anyway, so I put the baking dish on a baking sheet to collect all the food that otherwise would've reached the bottom of the oven.  I did have parmesan cheese I sprinkled into the hotdish, but it doesn't look like it helped with the, uh, bindiness.  I was given 2 1/2 pounds of ground beef when I asked for only two, so maybe that extra 1/2-pound was the reason I couldn't add Cream of Chicken soup.

Otherwise, uh, it's edible.  I could eat it.  But it is kind of bland, I think.  The recipe calls for salt and pepper to taste, and I even added some paprika, but I didn't measure any of it.  I just sprinkled it on there, and I wonder if I should have added more, or less.

Regardless, I have a whole baking dish of it left to eat.  And in another bit of irony, I think it'll take me a few days to eat it all, so I thus have made myself more food I should eat before my parents get home, even though I had already said I need to go through all this food I already have.  But I am glad that I made, or attempted to make, a hotdish.  Now I know what it takes to prepare and what I can do to improve the product.  I hope to follow the original hotdish recipe the next time I tackle it, and I intend for it to turn out well.

Can't Go To The Gym

It's been a couple, if not a few, weeks since I've gone to the gym.  And to be honest, it has been for a lack of trying.  I mean, I know I should go work out, and a part of me wants to work out -- sometimes.  But I haven't been able to go.

Ultimately, it's me.  I just haven't really committed myself into exercising.  I feel out of shape, and I think I could have done more to combat my insouciance and just get my butt into the community center.  With that said, I have had other ... yeah, let's call them excuses that have stymied me.

Let's start small and petty.  I was going to work out after work Monday.  But once again, work in The Fourth Department made me get out of there late.  Combine that with me needing to go to the library to both print out the bracket and e-mail my alma mater's alumni association a report for this volunteer event I set up.  By the time I left the library, it was close to 8 p.m.  The gym I go to closes at around 10, but there is this indoor volleyball group that I was afraid would end at around 8.  The locker room is small, and I didn't want to be around a bunch of nude men while I was changing clothes.  If I got there earlier, I was pretty sure I would avoid that, but not around 8.  So I went home and used the stair climber at home instead.

I tried going there a few days before.  But I lolled around, looking at my phone, before hopping out of bed a bit past 7, which is a tad late for me to go out to exercise.  Then I waited ten minutes at a train crossing.  And then, once I got to the front desk of the community center, there was this old lady who also wanted to use the exercise room.  She was coughing up a whole lung while asking dumb questions about the exercise room.  I walked down to the locker room and thought, nah, I don't want to be working out in the same room as that person.  And on my way out, I saw that lady, presumably in the clothes she would be exercising in, smoking a cigarette.

So I went home and used the stair climber at home instead.  I had this quasi-obsession of using that thing while my parents were gone.  Specifically, that stair climber has four settings, two of 20 minutes and two of 30, that I wanted to go through.  Moreover, I had to go through one cycle of each of the settings or else my OCD would really act up.  I completed that cycle before leaving for Hawai'i last year, so I thought about going through one more cycle, even though I really wanted to work out at the gym because it has more equipment and TVs.  But running into this lady reminded me of a perk of working out at home which I occasionally had to deal with at that exercise room: I am totally by myself, and don't have to worry about other people breathing out potentially sick germs.  Hell, I can also work out naked!

I was afraid running out to the community center would ruin my chances of completing a second cycle.  But seeing this dirty lady, and then needing to spend time at the library, allowed me to finish up the last two settings and complete a second cycle on the stair climber.  Oh, and Mother has weight I use for a little weight training.  Oh, and Father gave me this push-up bar that I also use when I'm working out at home.  OK, so I do have a few things to work out with at home.  Still want to go out to the gym.

I wanted to go Thursday, and maybe catch some tournament Games if I go in the evening.  But there's yet another goddamn snowstorm that appears to be bad enough that driving out to the community center isn't wise.  That's hasn't been the first time this winter I wanted to go out and work out but couldn't because of a snowstorm.  But really, the dreariness of the winter, in particular night coming on so early, had slowly eroded any energy I had after work to go drive out there.  I knew that I had to fight that inertia because otherwise I would be very out of shape, but I couldn't motivate myself to get up and get out often enough.  And so I stayed at home, mostly in bed, fat.

Daylight Saving(s) Time should be an effort to combat that.  The change happened Sunday and I already feel more energy after work because it's brighter later.  I think I will be even more motivated once my parents are home because I don't really want to be at home the same time as them a whole lot.  But in retrospect, yeah, I think I allowed too many obstacles to stop me from exercising.

Teams On The Cut Lines: March Madness 2023

So Nevada is the surprise team in and Rutgers (I guess) is the surprise team out.  In the evening the NCAA releases The Seed List, where every team in the field is put in order according to The Selection Committee.  Here is this Year's:

The official NCAA 1-68 seed list: pic.twitter.com/fuiHCGbLrK

— Jeff Borzello (@jeffborzello) March 12, 2023

So, as we can see:

• Team 64, aka The Last Team In In A Perfect And Just World: Providence
• Team 65, aka Who Really Should Be The #1 Overall Seed In The Not Invited Tournament: Mississippi St.
• Team 68, aka The Last Team In This Temporal Plane And Bloated, Asymmetrical, And Disharmonious Bracket: Nevada
• Team 69, aka The Last (Not First, Last) Team Out, According To The Chair Of The NCAA Selection Committee: Oklahoma St.

One Goddamn Penny

I have decided I need to purchase some things through Amazon -- a filter for the furnace, a filter for the water, a filter for the water coming out of the refrigerator (even though we don't drink the water from the fridge -- and, in fact, there isn't a water dispenser for the fridge), a battery for the alarm system, and those circular, hearing aid batteries (they're for my car key fobs).  I was saving them up so that I would have enough to get free shipping when buying them together ... even though I have tried to do so in the past and then I see I am paying for shipping for some of the items because they're not eligible after all, or something.

That's the case here (and by the way, I think Amazon says I qualify for free shipping, but then when I go to the address page where I show which items go to which place, that's when I see some of the items do not have free shipping), and it's really annoying the hell out of me because, according to Amazon, I am one single cent short.  Again, it might not matter because I still might be paying shipping for some of the stuff I want to buy.  But for the past few days I have been goddamned obsessed with figuring out the one thing I want to buy in order to be "eligible" for free shipping.

At first I was at a complete loss as to what to buy.  There is nothing I want to buy, and to be honest, it was kind of a struggle to figure out the stuff I need to buy now.  Then, I remember that there are a lot of OnlyFans babes I am willing to buy gifts for.  I have seen a lot of their wishlists, and many of them are only a few bucks (well, less than ten bucks), so I thought I could just toss in one of those to get over the hump.  But I swear, I have tried putting in my cart gifts from a half-dozen OF babes, and every single time Amazon continues to tell me I am one goddamn penny short.  Apparently, none of the gifts I want to buy are eligible.  I swear they were eligible when I bought them in the past.  Now, who knows?

Just now I thought I could buy fuel stabilizer, which I should put into my lawnmower now that it's winter, and even that is ineligible.  I don't get it.  So I quit.  It's very convenient for me to buy all the stuff that I need through Amazon, but if they're going to lead me by the nose like this, I think I'll do the more sensible thing and buy as many of these things I can in the stores that are, like, around me.  Sure, I'll be paying for shipping for all the items I will still buy on Amazon.  Frankly, right now I would rather be $100 short of free shipping than one motherfucking penny short.  God, that bothers me so fucking much. ...