Was Going To Stay In, But ...

This might be a mistake.  But I went to a couple Games of the World Juniors at Mariucci, and there may be a few things I want to buy.  But the items on sale at that arena seem to be different, if not really different, from the items I saw at the IIHF World Juniors pop-up store at the Mall Of America.  Also, I went in the second Game, when Canada was playing.  The merchandise store at Mariucci was packed.  Now, the store is really small, even if the Game was only half-full, so the idea that things could sell out quickly based on what I went through last night probably is overblown.  Still, that has made an impression me, and add to that the items I thought I saw at MOA but not there has convinced me to change out of my clothes and go out today, to the Megamall, probably to buy some World Juniors stuff.  Other factors factoring into this decision: There are no important Games on TV I can stay home and watch (there are college football Bowls, but they're exhibitions, so they're not important; by the way, I think there are only three top-flight men's Games and one top-flight women's Game today, seriously!); weather's pretty good for driving right now (above freezing, no rain); and, surprisingly, I haven't been asked to come in to work.

I really don't want to drive, but instead I think I'll stay home next Saturday, when there will be a couple NFL Games on free TV.  This plan might blow up in my face, of course.  It's possible I could go down there and everything's sold out, or there are items there that I don't want to buy, or all the stuff there is exactly what I saw at Mariucci last night.  But like I said, the World Juniors ain't comin' around every year, so I might as well experience it while it is.  Let's hope it works out!

Passive-Aggressive Confrontation At The Ice Cream Place

OK, so a few weeks ago I was enjoying a final Sunday before my folks came home, and I decided to go to this ice cream parlor kind of close to me -- not for ice cream (I think I've gotten more lactose intolerant, if that's possible), but for their burger, which is consistently lauded around town.  I think they're good, but I have had a few in the area that have blown me away.

Anyway, I was going to sit down to eat my burger and fries.  There is an outside deck and it was fairly crowded, but there were a couple seats available.  So I promptly lay on the counter my food right above a seat that was next to this couple.  And the male of the couple says, "Aup -- my son's sitting here," and he quickly jerked the stool right next to him.

I did the polite Minnesota thing.  No, I only did a blend of the polite Minnesota thing.  See, my old age has given me repeated instances of honing my passive-aggressiveness -- come to think of it, that's a Minnesota thing too -- to the point where I am getting better at shooting off comebacks that are nice on the surface but is delivered with a side of bile and bite.  Maybe it's not good in a polite society to be so on-edge that you have such a witticism at the ready, but we are no longer in a polite society.  So, as I picked up my food to move down to another open seat, I said, "Ope, sorry about that," and I know I had an unmistakable tone I said that with.  Heh-heh.

It's not as if the old guy was lying; his son came out from the bathroom and starting eating with his parents.  I could've just left it there ... but that's not me.  From that point onward, I was thinking of one more shot, one more dig whereby I could taunt or bait him, maybe even pick a fight with him if he is as prone to anger as I am.  Hell, my parents were coming home -- why not fight?

(Aside: This place is great if car-cruising was a thing.  The place is fronted by a three-lane road, with one lane in the middle for cars taking lefts.  It's speed-controlled, too, which is a good thing for pedestrians.  It's also good for drive-bys.  All guys who are strapped need to do is roll by at 15 miles per hours and light up the place, and me.  Glad I didn't have any enemies out to get me then -- well, besides this dude.  Anyway, back to my story:)

I finally decided I would look at him, and I mean stare at him until I got his attention, then say goodbye to him.  Not say anything, but acknowledge his leaving in a way that would make him notice.  That would assume a few things.  For one, he would have to leave before I do.  For another, he would have to walk my way in order for me to flag his attention.  And, for finally, he would have to see me.  But if all those conditions were met, bam!  I got his ass!

So he and his family got done before me.  Then, they walked on the sidewalk in front of me.  See, this is my chance.  They were walking slow, so I just stopped eating and looked at him, intently.  He glanced at me -- and I just gave him a wink, a "See ya around, pal!" type of thing.  And he ... gave me a smile.

Uh, what was that?  He didn't seem triggered or put off.  In fact, he didn't seem, uh, mad at all.  Now, he could've been cursing me up and down by the time those three got into their car -- "What the hell was that?" type of thing.  Or -- um, he just honestly said that stool was for his son, and that's all he meant by it.  Which means I overreacted to something that just happens.  And there's nothing more to it than that.

Shit, was that all that it was?

An Instance Where I Stayed Calm

I lost my Swiss Army knife a few weeks ago.  I knew I had used it, and I had misplaced it, and after some time trying to look for it, I gave up.  And I didn't panic, because I knew it had to be somewhere in the house, and that it didn't grow legs and walk out of it, so I knew I would come across it at some point.

Well, a couple (or maybe a few) days ago, I was searching through my computer bag and, lo and behold, I found it.  Guess it fell into it from my nightstand, that's all.

I remember when I was a kid I would freak out and yell at Grandmother to help me find it.  I was in a permanent tizzy back then.  I hope I grew up enough for her to see me not overreact like that.

Car Might Be Getting Worse

The buzzing under my hood when I accelerate got a little more noticeable and a little more frequent as I drove home last/Wednesday night from Brit's where I watched Colombia defeat Uruguay in the Copa America Semifinal.  And I'm telling you, I am freaked out as fuck over it.  This came when I heard that buzzing noise when I made a quick right on my way to Speedway to get coffee before work in the morning.  However, that was after a couple days where I didn't hear it at all.

I want to make it twelve more days, but I'm in such a panic right now, right this very minute, that I don't know if the car, or I, can make it.  I might make an appointment next week.  Depends on if the rattling comes back when I drive to work in the morning.

Man, I need to drive.  The ability to go where I want, when I want is something I cherish.  But ever since the car I drove for the first time, a red Jeep, overheated the first time, I have paradoxically been scared to drive.  That anxiety, that fear, that hasn't ever gone away.  So either I am overreacting to this ... or I should be more concerned about this problem than I am.

... And Now They're Gone!!!

The goddamndest thing.  So I was in total "fuck it" mode, and I was going to drive my car, with any and all indicator lights on, to work and back.  I would have to make time to bring it into the shop at some point, and so I was mentally preparing to ask my boss if I can come in late a couple days next week while those guys figure out why in the hell they made an oil change and those fucking lights still came on.

So yesterday/Friday morning I turn the car on and let it warm up while I scrape the snow and ice off the minivan in preparation for using that today/Saturday.  I get in and only three of the four that popped up both the night before and three weeks ago were on.  Specifically, the tire pressure, vehicle stability control and power steering lights came back on, but the check engine light stayed off.  OK.  Still in "fuck it" mode, I went to Caribou for the mocha and oatmeal I needed to get through my day.  Went inside, went back out, turned on the car again ... and all of the remaining lights stayed off once the car started.  And they have all been off since.

Phew ... I think.  I guess there's always a chance they can come back on, and the pessimist I am, I am half-heartedly expecting it as I drive the car through this weekend when the coldest weather of the year (it may not get above 0 Sunday and Monday) settles in.  But this spares a trip to the mechanic, at least for now.  This always brings up a question of whether those lights came on three weeks ago because of bad oil pressure and/or level, or if they came on because of something that has nothing to do with the operation of the car and more to do with the sensors for the warning lights.  I refuse to believe that the oil has gotten so bad over the course of three weeks that the car has to be brought in again.  Then again, unlike Thursday and yesterday, I turned on the car a few times three weeks ago and those four damn lights came up every single time.  Maybe the oil did need to be changed.  Or, maybe, there is some middle ground as to the reason those lights were thrown on -- that while maybe the oil needed closer monitoring, all the lecturing by the mechanic that I was totally riding the car too hard and stuff was a bit overblown when the sensors may act funny upon a downturn in temperature.  (I remember that, while this winter up till now has been very warm, the codes came on three weeks ago on a day the temperature plummeted into the teens.  I think it was in the teens Thursday evening when the codes came back on; it has been around that temp and colder since, and the warning lights are now off.)

I have plans to go out tonight, in the extreme cold, to a coffeeshop to try some Palestinian food, have some coffee and cake, and work on my receipts.  I will do so using my car which may or may not throw up codes again today.  Let's hope not.

Immigrants' Son Riding To The Fucking Rescue Again

I love my parents.  I love them most of all right now -- when they're half a world away, and I don't have to be near them.  They can hurt me emotionally, but it doesn't hurt as bad when I know I can just end the call and be at peace at home.  Now, when they are physically at home, I get uneasy and count the days till they begin their winter sojourn around warmer places on Earth.

Still, they can reach out and touch me, and when they do, they can ben annoying as fuck.  And they were last/Wednesday night, when Mother wanted to see if I was home.  There were a couple of photos she wanted me to snap of bills she's kept from a couple of their rental properties -- kind of a pain-in-the-ass, but understandable as to why she would want them.  But then Father chimed in and asked, as he has done all my life though not lately, to write another complaint letter.  This time it's about other rental properties they own from which they believe they haven't gotten enough income.  He asked me to write to the Better Business Bureau about it, and he has asked me to write to them before, and it's gone nowhere.  And then Mother gets back on the horn and asks me to call the property management company and ask them why they're not getting as much money as they think they should get.

This, in essence, is one of the main reasons why I hate my parents: They are permanent drama queens.  I have had to deal with and live under their anxieties and their misplaced sense of entitlement.  Moreover, they add a patina of helplessness to these demands: Since I can speak English like a native, I have always been asked to write, and in this case call, and ask for what they want on their behalf.  I've always been sent out to do their dirty work, oftentimes when they have only half an idea as to what they're mad about, sometimes when they have no proof that they're getting screwed.  But I have to do it anyway because I'm their son, while they go relax or fucking gallivant around China or somewhere.

With that being said ... I have looked over these income statements, and they may have a case.  It appears as though both rental properties in question were rented out for most of the month.  Yet, I see fees here and there, and they add up to a vast majority of the income both properties supposedly generated in income.  They're getting money, but it's a piddly amount.  Now I don't know what questions I can ask this management company, and there might not be anything I can do because my parents supposedly signed an agreement.  But I still call bullshit, and if my parents are right, this management company has reneged on any promises to get back to them when one of them has called asking why these fees have taken such a huge bite out of the revenue.

I think I need to call.  If these fees aren't mistakes, maybe they need to find a different management company, or even sell the properties.  But I'll call them Friday.  I have time then.  I need to formulate questions to ask.  Also, I don't want to call before then; I want to go out for a bit tonight/Thursday night.  If they can party, I can fucking do the same.

Addendum To: Party Fouls

That party I was dreading?  Yeah, actually, it was a great time.  Maybe we could've had some more people over, but maybe I should expect that next year after we just started doing this again for the first time in three years.  Besides, we had a good turnout, and everyone was being social.  I feel kind of bad for mistaking one parent's incoming student, but other than that, I don't think there was another time I put my foot in my mouth.

OK, so I overreacted.  Now, I just hope it wasn't took awkward sending everybody two sets of e-mails with all the photos the hosts and I took.

Now Everything Looks Like A Nail To Me

OK, so we had a snowstorm overnight.  It wasn't as bad as the previous overnight snowstorm, which forced me to plow in the morning, get to work an hour late, and forced both of my co-workers (who comprised a whole department) to stay home.  It wasn't forecast to be as bad, either, but I think because so many underestimated the previous snowstorm, we all swung the other way and over-anticipated and over-prepared for this one.

So, when I went out and surveyed the driveway, I saw that, while it was sort-of deep, contrary to the weather forecasts, the snow was light and fluffy.  And while I had to gun my car, I was able to back out of the driveway and get to work, albeit slowly and five minutes late.  The snow lightened up from then on, and I thought it wouldn't be so bad as to necessitate the use of the snowblower, but the city got the plowers to pitch the snow off the street and onto the base of the driveway.  I tried gunning my car onto my driveway, and I got it past that barrier and just onto my driveway, but I couldn't get it up any farther.  So, even though I eventually measured the snowfall at less than four inches, I backed my car back out because, turns out, I had to use the snowblower.

Whatever I have said in the past about my snowblower being unreliable, forget it.  It started up fine, it worked fine, it plowed like a beast, and my driveway is clear.  The end-of-driveway snow?  Not an obstacle at all for my blower.  The residual snow that was on my driveway that got icy because of the days of melting and freezing?  Well, some of it is still there, but I know that I was able to slide under some of it and pitch it through my blower's chute and onto either my front yard or the neighbor's front yard.

And yes, I felt like a man again.  Even moreso than I do after all the other times I plowed my driveway , because it took me just about an hour to clear it this time.  Light and fluffy snow is faster to get through, I guess.  Now that I believe my snowblower to be reliable, I do not regret at all using it when I could have, conceivably, just shoveled it all away.  I might use it for the next snowfall even if we get only a couple inches.  Why shovel when I can plow?  It's so much faster and easier on my body.  But maybe that would be overkill.  See, when you get a hammer, everything around you looks like a nail.

This Is The Vacation That Isn't

So I have the next two days off.  Originally I wanted to go to St. Louis, preferably by car, and make it a six-day vacation straddling the weekend and ending on Tuesday.  Unfortunately, rates for car rentals were so obscene that I shaved off one day, and when my parents said they were coming back, I shaved off another.  I was going to give away today and tomorrow, too, but like I bitched and moaned about here, everybody this summer has taken a vacation except me.  Besides, I am racking up the paid time off and, in an e-mail I got Tuesday, my boss confirmed that we can only carry over a week's worth of it into next year, which means I have some days I have to burn off or else I lose the money I make from not working.

So, I am giving myself two days off.  Am I going to St. Louis?  No.  Besides the sky-high prices of cars (which I think have backed off now) and my parents coming home, when I proffered the idea that I would take a road trip for just, oh, four days (and I was thinking Friday-to-Monday) because hey, my parents would be home to mind the house, Mother freaked out about, like, me passing out behind the wheel or something.  I didn't want to deal with her grief, so I nixed the actual vacay for a fake one.  (Say, have I blog posted this story here on WAF already?  I don't remember.)

So I'm telling my parents I'm taking half-days today and tomorrow.  If they ask, I'm going to tell them I'm bringing my car in for service ... which is true.  But they don't know that I'm bringing it to a shop I've never been to before.  It comes recommended, although I wish it had more reviews.  But while the car after I get it back from the dealership runs fine, it's expensive and I haven't been all that happy with the customer service.  Plus it's got some extensive maintenance that's supposed to be done on this, which means I'll have to cool my heels for at least a few hours (at least I think), and that dealership is not a place I want to get stuck in for a few hours.  This shop is on a bus line, so I will be able to go downtown for breakfast, maybe get a haircut and, oh yeah, get picked up by ******e for a handjob at her parents' house, where she's staying at right now.

(Aside: This car repair place is very close to my house.  And it's so close that I'm afraid that, as I take the bus to ******e's place or back to the shop to pick up my repaired car, I'll see them driving around in their minivan while they, for example, buy more milk because I almost used up the last gallon that is in the refrigerator.  Yeah, I can explain the truth, that I've taken my car into a shop.  But the BS I'll get from them for such a run-in will still be unrelenting.)

The problem is the timing.  The big variable to my day is how long will it take to do all the things that need to be done to the car.  If it takes all day, that will mean a lot of long bus rides doing all things I can and want to do, but that'll get exhausting.  And even if it takes, oh, two hours (doubt it), these are long rides on the bus, so any plans I make will pretty much be set in stone because I will be downtown and 45 minutes away from the car repair place.  I just want certainty.  I might get it when I bring it in in the morning.  I really, really hope I get the car back at the end of the day; I can't get home without it.

Some vacation, huh?

And On Top Of Everything, I Might Be Fired When I Go Into Work Today

Got a very angry e-mail replying to my message to her from Friday, when I was working in The Fourth Department.  She was upset that I sent the e-mail a, uh, "general" address instead of no one in particular, even though I could not find her e-mail or that of any other individual.  I believe she accused me of violated HIPPA rights or something.  I don't think so.  I think she is overreacting.  On top of all that, my e-mail was sent to a company, and I presume that company's employees know what to do with personal information.  It's not as if I sent this out to a totally random stranger.  I believe they could re-route it to the proper authorities -- which was my main intention when I e-mailed it to this "general" address -- without that much fuss.  But no, I have to get this person.

Because unfortunately, when she went on her rant, she carbon-copied a different department at work.  This is now no longer just between us, but instead it now involves people who, I believe, can call for my job if they are unhappy about my move.  To which I say that I had a job to do, which is finding people to retrieve the information we need.  I didn't have an e-mail for a particular individual, like I said, so I did the next best thing.  Should I have just given up?

But it is not out of the realm of reality that this transgression, to people higher up in the company, could be so bad and so inexcusable that I'll be fired today.  I won't be ready if it happens, but mentally I am trying to prepare for that unfair worst-case scenario.  And all over an e-mail, huh. ...

Parents Being Penny Wise But Pound Foolish -- Maybe

I have come to eschew milk.  I may be overreacting, but all the times I have had an upset stomach over it have, in a small, prosaic way, traumatized me, and so unless the milk does not contain lactose (and I should talk to my doctor to confirm that, yes, I have lactose intolerance), I don't drink milk.

My Grandmother and parents made me drink so much milk.  I may have not felt well.  I may have told them about that.  They may have ignored me.  I had a traumatizing childhood, and I wonder if that was a part of it.

Anyway, over the weekend my folks bought four damn gallons of whole milk.  It was on sale.  Can you believe it?  "Drink up!" Father said, both last night and just now for lunch.  I don't think I can risk farting at my new job, Father.  To her credit, Mother stepped and told/reminded Father why I wouldn't drink it.

But: Four damn gallons.  Why?  Are they going to drink them all?  Do they expect me to pull my weight even though I try not to drink milk anymore?  Are my parents not lactose intolerant?  And does this fall under the adage of being penny wise but pound foolish?  Probably only if the milk goes to waste.

Eh.  I'll drink a glass tonight.  Hopefully it won't upset my stomach in the morning.

Should I Go To The Fair?

In case you haven't heard, the Minnesota State Fair is not mandating the use of masks for fairgoers.  However, they are "strongly encouraging" its use.  In a press release, they are, and I quote, "urging [fairgoers] to pitch in and do what's right."  Such a Minnesotan thing to say.  And so people are hammering the Fair for such a folksy way of dealing with people who won't mask up.  And rightly so.

And yet, on the eve of the Fair, I bought a ticket at Cub Foods.  I bought another one back on Sunday.  Why?  Man, I don't know.  I want to believe the science ... which says that if you're vaccinated (and I am), you're virtually immune from COVID-19, even its Delta variant, hospitalizing and/or killing you ... and which also says that Delta spreads very easily and efficiently ... and has sent people to the ICU and onto a ventilator ... most of which being the unvaccinated ... and which also says that the coronavirus has trouble spreading outdoors ... but easily spreads in crowds.  So yeah, I don't know.  This information is not mixed messaging; it's science.

Look, I don't want to be an anti-vaxxer and anti-masker, so any squawking coming from them should fall on deaf ears because those pricks never debate in bad faith.  (People should vandalize the Republican booth at the Fair, too.)  But there is a possibility, a slight possibility, that people are overreacting to the Fair's decision, which, to be fair (see what I did there?), may not be based on science so much as on logistics (namely that it's too hard to tell everybody coming onto the Fairgrounds to wear a mask).  Upon this news that came down last week, many media outlets, 150 vendors and at least one band has decided not to appear at the Fair, although many vendors cite staffing shortages and lack of supplies as reasons they won't show up.

But how about me?  I missed the Fair last year.  I have grown to see the Fair as a pilgrimage -- maybe not Mecca, more like Graceland.  Yet I don't want to get sick because some outstate dumbass still thinks the virus is a hoax.

But ... you know, I thought that once I got the vaccine I would not need to get tested for COVID-19.  With the spread of the Delta variant and the unknown ability for it to infect the fully vaccinated, however, I decided I could not be free of it.  My parents seem healthy, but if I still am able to spread it to them because I was in a situation where I somehow caught it, I would have to know if I get it.  And yet I have largely gone back to my normal social routine -- exercising, going out to eat, having fun at stripper parties, etc.  I got tested back on Saturday; it came back negative.  And, yes, I am kind of committed since I bought two tickets.

Yes.  I am going.  I am going to try to be as careful as hell.  I'll try -- try -- to wear a mask whenever I'm not eating or drinking, which is inimical to being at the Fair, I understand that.  I probably won't go in any indoor spaces.  I may not even use the restroom.  And I won't stay long.  Hopefully.  I promise.

What I will do, however, is not go the first week.  I'm not as worried about sudden cases of the 'Rona happening with people infected the first days of the Fair, although if Delta spreads as fast as I hear, I will hear about a sudden rise in cases in the state this time next week.  I am more concerned about incidents between people over the use or non-use of masks.  I'm really scared that, frankly, there are going to be arguments, if not fistfights, over someone using or not using a mask.  If those things happen, they're going to happen through the weekend.  If my fears are unfounded (and I hope they are), I think I can step onto the Fairgrounds its second week.  If, however, the Fair is just riven with id-crazy Republican psychos who are making fun of anybody wearing a mask ... well, I guess I wasted $26.

Wish me luck.

For The First Time In Decades, I Had Homework

So I got an e-mail from the University of Minnesota -- I keep in touch with their Continuing Studies program, just in case I finally get the balls to go back to school.  It's this thing the college refers to as something like Big Data Boot Camp.  And I became instantly intrigued.

Big Data, aka data analytics aka data science, etc., is a big field, a burgeoning field, and a field that may be inoculated against automation.  It is a field I have thought about entering in an abstract, how-do-I-look-if-I-try-this-on kind of way.  One of the main uses I can get from this boot camp, which I think teaches you programming and data mining, is the flexibility with which what you learn can be applied to great, forward-looking jobs.  In particular (and kudos to the marketing department for thinking of this), doing this six-month intensive program is a part of being a data journalist.  And golly, I could go back to making my degree worth something.

I am very, very content with my work situation now, screwing up on the job notwithstanding.  I like my job partly because I don't (and actually can't) take work home with me, but I don't know if I can just stay there the rest of my life.  Plus, I would like to make more money.  Finally, the marketing e-mail just said that if I were interested, contact this recruiter for more information.  That does not seem like a commitment, so I first filled out a webpage and, after getting a few e-mails back, finally scheduled an appointment for a call with this recruiter.

So I took this call after work yesterday, out in the park, in the middle of a howling wind, while eating two items (the Mexican Pizza and a Shredded Chicken Quesadilla Melt) Taco Bell will be removing from their menu permanently in three weeks.  It was part interview -- "Why are you interested in our program?" -- and part passive-aggressive interrogation, by which I mean the recruiter (and by no means I am fooled into thinking this guy, or this program, has much to do with the U.; I did some quick research just now and the U. is mostly a cover for this company to make money, from which the U. probably gets a cut in exchange for this company to slap the U.'s name on the certificate each person gets after completing this program) asked me basic questions for the Boot Camp.  One question I could definitely answer affirmatively: "Do you have a laptop?"  One question, "Can you devote 30 hours a week for this program, in both online classes and homework?" I answered yes to but, deep down, gives me pause.  And one other question -- "Can you pay 11 grand?" -- I think I answered with, "Sure!"  Sure is not yes, and I hope he knows what I meant by that.

But I answered the way he wanted me to answer, so the phone call, which was supposed to go 30 minutes, was about to wrap in less than 20.  However, he confirmed my e-mail address because he was going to send me a link to a test that I had to do.  A test???  You mean, like, homework?  And then he is going to follow up with the results of the test the next day, meaning today.  Fuck, man, I have the day off.  And speaking of fuck, I planned on spending the day fucking ****e's brains out.  And now I have to spend my Thursday evening worrying about getting 30 questions right (and in 30 minutes -- it was timed, and the recruiter probably said that over the phone, but I didn't hear it because the wind ruined the reception of the call) in order to even be accepted to this program?

Well, maybe I overreacted.  First of all, I took a dirt nap between 7 and 10 this evening, so I was all woken up.  I took a shower and took this test naked with wet hair.  And, oh, the recruiter did say that this quiz was open-book.  In fact, the instructions before I took the test encouraged me to open up another browser window to look up answers.  After looking up the first question I needed to look up, I could see by the automated fill-in suggestions on Google that I definitely was not the first person to apply for Big Data Boot Camp.

So, to be honest, it was a lot less harder than I thought.  I got through the 30 questions in 13 minutes.  The recruiter said I needed 70% to pass, and even though I probably wasn't perfect, my Google skills are on point, so I think I cleared that threshold.  (Shit, man, they'd probably accept me if I didn't reach 70% because the company he works for needs as much tuition money they can get.)  I just found it a tad annoying I had to take a friggin' quiz when my weekend has already started.  Oh, and I still have a "visit from a professor" tomorrow, and I don't know if the time I gave him is a good time.  I mean, I could still be fucking ****e's brains out when he calls.

So How The Fuck Am I Gonna Look Her In The Eye Tomorrow?

Last night I had plans to leave work early.  I had to.  I have been told by my boss that I cannot have overtime, and I have left early Monday through Wednesday.  And I had a phone call with my shrink scheduled after work, and I wanted to eat while talking to him, so I thought it was the perfect time for me to leave super early.  If I left so early that I was below time, I could make up for that by staying a bit later on Friday.

Oh, but shit got ruined real quick.  First, the department ended the afternoon with a favor by my other boss to try and finish up work before we went, and since I'm there the latest, the rest of this work fell to me.  Then, while I was trying to finish up (knowing by then that I probably couldn't leave as early as I planned), my boss calls me into his office.  Oh, shit, I thought.  And I was right.

I wasn't being fired.  I wasn't being reamed, either, although at times it felt like I was.  I was being told what to expect while I'm being "re-trained," which has happened lately.  I was reminded that they have my best interests at heart and want just for me to be the best worker I can be ... which is why they tell me that I can do something better.  They reminded me that I am working in a department where everybody there has been there for years, so they know how to do things best.  And if I had not been trained on something before, he advised me not to say, "Oh, I don't remember being trained on this," even though that's 100 fucking per cent true.  (Plus, he said something about my satellite radio and how it takes for me to set it up.  But with his permission I am going to just listen online and stop with the bullshit.)

So this had to have come out of two incidents -- both from a supervisor, the one I once thought highly of.  The first one was my extreme annoyance being told I had to find these forms a different way, which I detailed here.  The second incident happened Tuesday, and I still think it was sort-of innocent ... though apparently not.

I was out in My Main Department and the supervisor came up to me about this ... process.  Again, I'm going to be vague about it so as 1) not to blow my cover (although I wonder if someone from work already knows about this and 2) I don't want to bore you with the details.  So, I'm in filing, and sometimes we get faxed requests to get a certain form we need to find in filing.  When we find it, we have to go into this program whereby we electronically note that we are sending this form along to a department (not necessarily the one that requested it, just the one that needs to take a look at it) before we physically go into that department and drop that form off there.  Still with me?

In this screen in this program where we electronically note this form is being sent along, we have to fill out a few lines.  One of them is a reason line.  On the request form there is a reason a form is being requested.  However, when I was trained, I was specifically -- specifically -- told that it was OK to put in a generic reason everything single time ... and what the fuck, I might as well say it: ACTION.  I was told that that was OK, and I think -- I think -- the reason was that I needed to get these sent out quickly if I had many of these requests getting faxed in at once.

Because I am a stickler, I have actually looked at the request form, looked at the reason, and typed that reason on the screen.  But only sometimes, because hey, sometimes I feel courteous and sometimes I ... don't.  Besides, I WASN'T TRAINED TO DO THAT!!!  So I told her this (I didn't shout it), and I thought it went well.

The meeting with my boss indicates to me, clearly, that it didn't.  My boss called me into this 20-Minute meeting because either she asked him to do it or she told him about what I said and he thought it was enough to put down any fires that might be smoldering by calling me in.  Either way, she told him about what I said and did.  So that brings up a whole other rat's nest of shit I need to process.  Because on the one hand, I totally think she blew the "I wasn't trained on this" comment way out of proportion.  All I was doing was telling the truth and defending myself.  For those reasons, this meeting was an overreaction.  On the other hand, unfortunately, it is clear that my frustration over being told that I should do things a different got the better of me and did not go unnoticed.  That is something I don't like in me, and even though this specific way I should do things is something I don't particularly like, I'm not going to fight it.

I had to end the meeting with my boss.  I told him my frustrations with re-training and that I will try and do better (wanking motion).  But my takeaway is that this supervisor has a problem with me.  Not saying that it's not justified, but she has a problem with me.  On top of that, today I'm working under her in her department.  And worse than that, my boss told me that I had to tell her, first thing in the morning, that I have to leave a half-hour early to make sure I don't accrue overtime.  (Really doesn't matter because she leaves three hours before I do.)  I really don't want to speak with her because shit is now awkward.  But my boss told me I had to.

So, in the morning, when I go into the department and look her in the freakin' eye, what am I going to say?  How will I act as I say what I am going to say?  And how will she take what I say and how I say it?  I think I have to play this off as ain't no thing.  But maybe I'll stick to my principles and go, "So you have a fuckin' problem with me?!?!?!"  And then I'd be fired ... which might be the path I'm walking down now.

I'll sleep on it.  Maybe I'll calm down by tomorrow.  Or, maybe I won't.

In the meantime I should brush up on my resume.

Chris?

So I Finally Talked To My Boss, And ...

... I found him to be receptive.  I did tell him my beef and continuous worry about my supervisor, and I think he acknowledged it with a monitoring stance, any more of which would have made me scared that he would overreact.  I made him aware, and I think that's the important thing.

However ... when it came to the issues of what That Bitch accused me of and how I fucked up that folder, he took the training baton I handed off to him and he ran with it.  He noted that one of my other supervisors is going to re-train me on the other departments ... to get me to work faster.

Yeah, um, I was implying to my boss that That Cunt's accusation that I was slow was bullshit.  I get that, uh, he doesn't think so.  I am ... miffed.  Maybe I should take this as them not giving up on me, that it's not my fault.  But honestly?  One foot may not be out the door, but my mind is now really, really wandering.  And if she comes back at me with more backhanded insults, well, I'll have to talk to the temp agency again.

I Want The Old Normal; How Do You Know It's Not Coming Back?

Yeah, the quarantine and the nation- and worldwide shutdown is getting to me.  Please don't lump me in with those MAGA/KAG protesters that have "popped up out of nowhere" in the past few days; those people are either Republican dumbasses that have been organized by Republican billionaires or hired crisis actors to act as if there is a sizable (and stupid) pushback to all these measures that are being taken to save as many lives as possible.  I understand why this is being done.  And yet I am restive, and bored, and hoping, probably against hope, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

In the meantime I am occupying/scaring myself with as much coronavirus reading material as I can possibly stand.  Several I've come across speculate on the future, and it's not a pretty one.  They're thought pieces that basically revolve around the hardened conclusion that this is The New Normal, or that we will never, ever-ever go back to "normal" ever again.  Just over this weekend I read one general essay about how we will never be the same, a second one about how the restaurant business will never be the same, and a third one about how architecture will never be the same.  To the authors of the pieces and the experts interviewed therein, that light supposedly at the end of the tunnel is in fact an oncoming train.

I'm certainly no expert, and I definitely am not an architect nor a restaurateur.  But I live in this world, and the one that was before last month, before The End Times.  And while I can't predict the future, the writers and interview subjects in those entries in coronavirus porn, as learned and as thoughtful as some of them may be, can't either.  And so I will try an impassioned defense for The Old Normal, and a possible roadmap to the way back there.

I understand that a pandemic like this should make us rethink things.  Many people (and at least one of the writers on these stories I read) refer to 9/11 in how things in America have changed irrevocably.  After those terror attacks there were new regulations on airport security, a brand new way of looking at surveillance, and, at the attack's immediate aftermath, scrutiny and a concerted effort to hunt down Islamic terrorists.  I will submit that things have changed, but beyond hunting down Osama bin Laden, Al-Qaeda and the Taliban, I'm not sure that the changes that have become our New Normal is a good thing.

After this is all over, people are speculating that there will be brand new aesthetics in interior design that will mean the death of (ironically, sort of) both completely enclosed rooms with dangerous, unclean recirculated air and open workspaces.  Meanwhile, restaurants may reopen with half the number of tables there before, and the menus that get passed around and potentially pick up germs will be permanently banned.  Meanwhile, a new grid of surveillance -- precipitated by technology, birthed by the geniuses of Silicon Valley such as Google and Apple -- will track and trace anyone who may unwittingly have and spread the virus; those people will then be told to quarantine for two weeks while a text will go out to everyone who came within six feet of that germ wagon.  Oh, and large crowds at concerts and sporting events may not come back for 18 months, maybe not two years, and maybe not ever.  Well, maybe not at least without getting let in by a bouncer who checks your temperature with a forehead thermometer.

OK, time out.  There are a couple good things that might come from this.  A new appreciation for the restaurant business may finally convince both entrepreneur and consumer to fatten the margins so that chefs and servers can survive beyond a living wage, according to that restaurant piece.  And while the ACLU will be all over it, surveillance in the name of public health might be a type of civil liberty that I am willing to cede -- and I know I probably am not the only one.  (I know the type of people who will hate such a concession: It's those MAGA/KAG protesters that "spontaneously" came out of nowhere to stand up for their rights and shit.  Anything they're against, I'm for.)

But for the other sky-is-falling predictions about what we'll need to do in order to avert the next plague, I think it's a bit of a reach.  We don't know if all these measures are going to be acceptable to the public.  And we don't know if all these measures are going to be needed, either.  We need testing -- nationwide, on-demand, repeated testing, and we need it now.  We get the antigen test, we know where the hell the virus is and we can isolate those who have it while letting those who don't get back to their lives.  And once we get the antibody test, those who have had the virus and have developed immunity to it (hopefully at least) can not only resume their lives, but they could (or be ordered to) give plasma to help those who are gravely ill.

Finally, there's the weapon that ends our global nightmare -- a vaccine.  One expert I came across thinks 18 Months is way too optimistic, and my heart sank reading that.  But once we have that, I see no reason we can't flood and crowd public spaces and bars and restaurants and stadiums and rock halls like we did before.  At the very least there will be an annual serum that everybody will need to take that will best blunt the effects of a mutating coronavirus.  Then and only then will we reach what I think experts and the public agree will be an acceptable amount of risk for us to resume our lives.  Then and only then will comparing this to the flu will make sense.  Yes, tens of thousands of people die from the flu every year.  But we have gone about living anyway.  Maybe we should wash our hands more often and be more careful about how we cough and sneeze.  But otherwise, although we wouldn't have slayed the virus, we will believe we have tamed it to the point where we will not cower in fear of it anymore.

We're not at that point yet.  So those Republican idiots who want to just reopen everything and live like we were before, they don't give a shit about the bodies that will pile up just so we can bring back the economy ... and oh, the economy won't be back because too many people will be too scared to go back to work, and many of them will need to tend to their sick loved ones, and some of them will be dead.  No, this isn't the flu.  Humanity hasn't dealt with a disease like this yet.  If you want to blame somebody for your business shutting down, blame Donald Trump for not believing for 70 fucking days that this could destroy our economy.  He could have accepted those tests from the World Health Organization, shut down air travel from all countries immediately, and ordered the mass production of Personal Protective Equipment.  Did he?

With that being said, I am kind of at a point in thinking that we are at a Janus point with COVID-19.  We don't know how this disease manifests itself, and we certainly don't know where it is.  But we all know that it's contagious, that many of us remain susceptible to it, and that it can kill.  That's why everybody who's sensible will stay at home as much as possible.  Meanwhile, we cannot resume our lives with any normalcy until we get a vaccine.  So that's where we are.  We hide because this disease is in the air.  Once we find a vaccine, we don't hide anymore.  That's it.  That's the endgame.  Hell, that's the whole game.

And so yes, I am pining for a day where everyone will get a vaccine that works perfectly against this coronavirus, and thus we can get back to normal.  As a (faux?) progressive I find myself kind of in arrears with fellow progressives in the sense that normal is something you should run from, not to.  But what I read over these past few days saddens me.  I don't want things to change from what I remember being and living in just 30 days ago.  That was nice then, and I think most people would agree that is a life that's worth going back to.  So I viscerally push back against any notion that we can't go back to before, especially if I don't know what will replace it going forward.

Maybe I'm not that different from those paid Astroturf protestors that cropped up across the nation this weekend after all.  We all want to get back to normal.  I just don't invoke racism, stupidly invoke my "liberty" and think this virus is a conspiracy while I hope for that.  If I get to stay the fuck away from those Republican terrorists, maybe we should quarantine for a good while longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

OK-OK-OK, My Boss Isn't A Dick

Got a review today, and he didn't bring up any of the issues I vented about.  Maybe he was having a bad week, or maybe this was all a misunderstanding.  Bottom line, maybe I overreacted.  I think I should at least give him the benefit of the doubt until something happens later, and I might re-evaluate then.  But until then ... no, I don't think he's a dick.

Expenses Without Receipt

Oh, fuck me.  Starting from Wednesday, October 30:

• The only EWR I had for this date was for My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version).  I was summoned there by Giselle because she was celebrating her birthday while working there.  So I had to get a dance from her (even though it was a short one, even though the song she danced to was "Don't Fear The Reaper"), and just because I wanted to be festive, I got dances from two other strippers there, Lotus and Willow.  (There was a fourth, ***i*, I was going to get a lapper from, but she was occupied when I was free and vice versa, so I decided I'll check her later.)  With stage tips for all four and coffee (with tip) I spent a grand total of: $72.25.
• Sunday, October 27 -- I took out $200 for the party the night before thinking I was going to fuck someone, but ... well, I'll tell it next bullet point.  I had a lot of money burning in my pocket, and I thought I could spent lavishly at My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) after the Timberwolves Game.  So I did; I got one lap dance each from Ashlee, Anastasia, and Harley.  Loved all three.  With coffee, and tip for said coffee and the strippers stage-side, I spent a total of: $70.
• Saturday, October 26 ... the day before I was invited to a house party at the apartment of *****e*.  I went thinking I was going to fuck; I even brought the condom I got at a men's room in a building at the University of Colorado when I vacationed in Denver.  But I was thinking about it more and more as I was going to go to the party.  The host, *****e*, I fucked about a month ago and didn't need to fuck again.  There was another girl, ****y, I thought I was going to fuck, but she annoyed the fuck out of me the minute I stepped through the door, so fuck her.  The other two I didn't know, so I couldn't go balls deep in either of them.  So, with that annoying twat gone, I just got lappers from the other three, and that suits me fine.  With cover, I spent just: $80.
• Back to Tuesday the 22nd -- well, I didn't spend anything on the 22nd, so we'll go back to the 21st.  I had to go to the library to print out a dental form which I need to fax to my health insurance company to get my dental bill paid.  (I initially just faxed the bill, which I was led to believe was enough, but alas, I guess.)  That cost me: 10 cents.
• I am way, way behind in writing down my receipts (as you can tell by me trying to catch up on two months' worth of EWRs), so I went to Caffetto to do the first step, which is putting the receipts I do have in order.  I ate a pumpkin pie and drank a small hot chocolate (and dinked around on the Internet) while putting my receipts in order.  With tip: $7.48.
• Sunday, October 20 -- went to the MNUFC's first-ever playoff match in MLS at Allianz Field ... and in typical Minnesotan fashion, they lost.  Apt that I got a hot dog and a Loon Juice for the final game of the season.  It's what I usually get for games, so I have a sense of things coming full circle.  Total: $17.
• On Saturday the 19th I took off of work early to help with a volunteer event for my alma mater.  It was downtown, but the organizer was able to finagle vouchers for a valet.  Valets are cool, and if I'm ever rich as fuck, I'll do it more often.  The downside to doing it -- well, it's not a downside, but this is partly why I usually seek out free parking -- is that I need to tip the valet.  With complimentary valet, tipping isn't an issue.  I just hope I tipped enough: $5.
• Back to Friday, October 18, where I used the second of the four Gophers tickets I bought at the State Fair.  It was for the men's hockey team's home opener versus Niagara, and I almost forgot that I had a ticket for this game on this date.  Mariucci Arena has beefed up its concessions; moreso than just hot dogs and pop, Mayslack's is there, as well as a concession stand converted to serve tacos.  I got a trio of beef tacos there.  With a medium Coke -- oh, the U. does not give out small Cokes anymore, which is strange -- and a program the game/win set me back: $18.
• ETA on November 7 at 8:55 p.m. an EWR Sunday, October 13 ... I don't have any spending listed but I must have done one, because the only cash transaction I had listed was me taking money out of my checking account, and that can't be possible because 1) I usually can't have just one transaction, especially if that transaction is getting money, and 2) this is Sunday and I was working the Vikings Game, and I know that I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) after work.  I also know that I got a lap dance from someone I had never seen before.  She had big tits and said that she wanted to open a stripper clothing store.  I think, though I'm not entirely sure, that I got another lapper.  And I assume I got coffee this trip (and, of course, I tip everything when I'm there).  I am pulling this totally out of thin air, but I am going to say that I went to this titty bar on this date and spent: $52.25.
• OK, assuming I did this right, my next EWR is Thursday, October 10.  It was a party, the first in a long time for me.  It was being hosted by *****y, even though it was at the house of a guy/strippermonger from My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition).  The host, *****y, finally gave me a handjob.  There were three other babes there, and I got $20 dances from -- and groped -- all of them.  What a great fuckin' party!  With cover, I left after spending: $220.
• Back to Monday, October 7, the last day of my stay in Denver.  It began with me leaving my sweet but remote hotel room, and leaving a little tip for housekeeping's troubles: $2.
• I then decided I was going to spend most of my afternoon walking around downtown Denver.  My main goal was to hit up the Hard Rock Cafe, but I stayed there so long I only made an abbreviated visit to the Colorado State Capitol.  Anyway, I learned that there is a cheap-ish lot to park, about a mile away from where those two spots were.  And I paid only: $6.
• I then went to a stripclub in the evening, on my way to DEN.  Unlike my two previous visits this vacation, I got royally fucked over by getting stiffed one dance from this fucking ripoff bitch.  It's so bad that not only will I not go to this club ever again, I don't think I can go to Denver for a long, long time either.  Maybe I'm overreacting, but that's how I feel.  So taken from my money, even if I did get a pass to get in for free: Tips and two, not three dances: $133.
• There was a possibility that I would eat at this recommended restaurant at the airport, but I got there too late.  But I was more than on-time to board my flight.  What to do?  Well, Caribou has made it to Denver, and I sign up for its coupons, and I hadn't had a Caribou in quite a while.  So even though it technically should have shut its door, I find a Caribou open somewhere in the terminal that would redeem my points.  Unfortunately I didn't get the whip cream on the mocha I got for free, even though I was asked and I answered.  This EWR is tip only: $2.
• Back to Saturday, October 5 -- this was the day I left my first hotel, and I left a tip for housekeeping there: $3.
• Hmmm ... went to the original site of Qdoba, then hiked at Red Rocks.  Went to my new hotel, then got back to downtown in the hopes of finding a ticket to the Bastard Quebec Noridques Game vs. my Minnesota Wild.  There were no scalpers I could find.  There were tickets available at the box office, but the cheapest tickets were $90.  No.  I paid at a lot downtown to take a chance at going to the hockey game, but at least I found one that, similar to the one I parked at two days later, was maybe the cheapest one downtown: $6.
• However I didn't want to just leave without accomplishing any vacation-y thing downtown.  Sure, I went up and down 16th Street Mall (and by the way, there were a hell of a lot of homeless people asking for money; it kind of creeped me out), but I still had my whole night ahead of me.  That's when I realized that I had not checked off one thing I wanted to do while in the city: Go to one of Denver's craft brewpubs.  So I went to not one, but two, both of which were within walking distance from the parking lot.  The gray lady of downtown breweries, it looks like, is Great Divide.  Had a great Hazy IPA and sat by myself and had a great time.  With tip: $7.
• It appears as though that microbreweries and food trucks now have a built-in co-dependent business relationship.  The truck outside Great Divide was called Spice Food.  Had a buffalo pub chicken sandwich, and it was on the spicy side.  There is tax on Denver food truck food.  With tip: $12.88.
• The night was still relatively young, and I thought I could walk off the alcohol I had.  So I went to another recommended brewery, Our Mutual Friend.  Walked a mile north and hit several more homeless people, which again freaked me out.  The customer service at OMF was worse than at Great Divide.  OMF had more of a frat house vibe, and that vibe should never emanate from a microbrewery.  Good Small Hold, though.  With tip: $5.25.
• Friday the 4th: Went to this stripclub in the evening because I had only been there during the afternoon/evening.  Much better times, I'll admit.  Place still didn't have waitresses taking orders for (non-alcoholic) drinks, which bothered me at times and didn't at others.  So I went to the bar in the back to get a Heinken 0.0, partly for the drink and partly because I needed more dollar bills.  Had a bathroom attendant there; threw in tips because he gave me towels, but when I wanted some Lunchables, he told me it was three bucks.  What the fuck were the tips for?  Anyway, I had $100 dances with Roxy and Rain, both of whom were great.  With cover and tips on a wild, busy night, the total was: $284.
• Oh, I think I found a heads-up penny at the club.  And Infusion of: 1 cent.
• On Thursday the 3rd I went to one of the things I really, really wanted to do while in Denver: Attend a Colorado women's soccer match.  I have no affinity for Colorado women's soccer.  But I wanted to see college sports from colleges other than my own.  The drive from Denver to Boulder is long, but the scenery, especially in the autumn, is beautiful.  Anyway, the Buffaloes led 2-0 but allowed Oregon to come back to eventually end the Game in a 2-all draw.  Ticket, hot dog, and a can of Left Hand Colorful Colorado: $23.
• Wednesday, October 2 was my first day in Denver.  I got there very early in the morning and, not having a hotel to crash in, I had no other choice but to hit the ground running.  There is a regional fast food chain called Santiago's that serves, according to some, the best of a Denver food staple, green chile sauce.  As was a main goal on this trip with Qdoba and Smashburger, I went to the origin store of Santiago's ... except that I was wrong.  I had a breakfast burrito at a small, drive-thru-only Santiago's which I thought was the first-ever.  But when I asked the woman at the drive-thru, she believed it was the other one, close by, on the same street.  That actually was a sit-down restaurant; they boxed up the breakfast burrito I ordered there, and I ate in the backseat of my rental car.  Anyway, I charged the second burrito at the true original store, but for the first burrito at the drive-thru I paid: $2.77.
• After the two Santiago's I went downtown to get my Docs re-stitched.  As I was cooling my heels for a several hours, I decided to dink around Union Station.  It is a beautiful edifice, and it successfully marries its purpose as a hub of transportation (being the terminus for Denver's light and passenger rail lines, as well as a stop for Amtrak) and also being a retail and hotel destination.  For the latter, I walked around its inside lobby.  There were shops and an entrance to the hotel.  I went to a place called Milkbox and got ice cream from a local creamery.  Very nice.  With tip it cost me: $5.
• Oh yes, my Docs.  The place was called the Cobbler's Corner, and it came recommended through, uh, Yelp.  They initially told me it would be ready by Monday.  I asked for ASAP instead and they told me it was going to be $30.  That was totally cool with me.  (Aside: It is kind of weird that for this kind of "chore," I have time to get it done while I'm on vacation, but I have no time while I am just living at home.)  I got it back, saw they shined it, and tipped them an extra $20.  Is that overkill, especially since the hikes I took in the days after dusted up my shoes and probably also wreaked damage on the stitches?  Total: $50.
• Then, at night, I went to the strip club I went to when I went to Denver last year.  I was going there to see Emerald, who is a model and sexy as hell.  I didn't see her that day because she wasn't working that day.  But I did see Indra, who told me that Emerald wasn't working that day.  So I took her to the back for a 3/$100.  Indra asked for a tip.  I gave it because my fly was open and she probably saw my cock.  With cover and tips: $152.
• OK, now we're going back to Saturday, September 28.  I went to a party hosted by *****e*, even though it wasn't her party; it was *****a's.  Wanted to fuck both, but I could only fuck one, and that was the one who invited me.  That was the only "dance" I got.  With cover: $140.
• Then went to Glam Doll.  Charged the first donut, coffee and tip, so the EWR is for the second donut and tip: $5.
• Friday the 27th I think I was using the loaner car from The Mechanic Around The Corner, and I think I wanted to treat myself by getting something at Caribou instead of using the work coffee machine (which, don't get me wrong, is pretty good).  Mocha plus tip: $6.09.
• That evening, after I got back my car (with new starter), I went to the University of Minnesota women's soccer Match vs. Penn St.  It was the first of four tickets to U. Games that I bought at the Minnesota State Fair.  This Game went into Overtime where, unfortunately, the Nittany Lions scored the Game-winning (and only) Goal.  This was my first U. Game of the new school year, and apparently the concession stands system-wide have eliminated small pop from the menu.  Medium Cokes are the smallest Cokes you can purchase now.  But karma made things up by giving me too much change back for that Coke and a hot dog.  With program: $11.25.
• Afterward I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Version).  Gave Sky two tips onstage because on that evening she would not dance for two bucks.  Whatever.  Got a lapper from Jade, and she ain't a bitch.  With coffee and tips the total came out to: $32.25.
• To Sunday, September 22: I took the LRT because I was working the Vikings Game but I wanted to park at a meter because I was afraid the car would not start and I would have to ask AAA to get into a parking ramp to tow me away.  Price is for getting around downtown only: $1.
• On Saturday the 21st I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition).  Coffee, tips, LD with Giselle, whom I hadn't seen in a long, long time: $30.25.
• And that evening I think I stored a wheat penny: 1 cent.
• Back to Saturday the 14th ... and oh, OK, reading my notes, this was weird.  I hosted our alma mater's Game-watching event.  One of the guys, a good guy (I went out to the Timberwolves Game with him) left and forgot to pay his meal.  So I covered it for him and he paid me back through PayPal.  In the meantime, another of the regulars at these parties gave me some money to defray the cost of his meal.  So, it's an Infusion of: $10.
• I was conducting a raffle during the Game.  Meanwhile, there was a bar crawl going on, and it was raising money for cancer charities.  My friend (the guy who later accidentally skipped out on his tab) encouraged me to go around and ask the crawlers if they wanted to play the raffle.  We actually got a few people.  Meanwhile, I wanted to be magnanimous and return the favor by giving money to the charity.  I don't know if that was the smartest thing to do.  I was sort of robbing Peter to pay Paul, you know?  Anyway, I donated: $5.
• Friday, September 13 ... went to Glam Doll to breathe.  With tip: $13.88.
• On Thursday the 12th I went to Caffetto, probably to work on my receipts.  Pumpkin pie and small coffee, then I decided I wanted something else to drink, so I got a Red Arrow root beer.  With tip: $9.92.
• Back to Monday the 9th, when I fucked *a***.  God, I need to fuck her again: $120.
• I think -- I think -- I later went to the library to print out a coupon to use at the dealership for the myriad of maintenance items I needed for my car.  Was later told at the dealership I couldn't use it.  Damn.  Cost: 10 cents.
• On Sunday, September 8 I was working the Vikings' season-opener.  Used the LRT to get to the stadium: 50 cents.
• I then walked back because I wanted to go to a block party hosted by Borough.  Had a street taco and a Gin Mule.  With tips the total was: $17.
• After that I caught up with a friend who was in town from New York, who wanted someone to help her with trivia at a brewery in south Minneapolis.  I used the LRT to get down there and back, for a total of: $4.
• At the brewery, called Venn, I got a Northodox, an IPA (?) which was real nice.  During break from trivia I also ventured out to get a chicken with rice at the food truck.  With tips for both I spent: $18.
• And then I finished my night at a night at My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division), where I got a lap dance from the hot MILF Julie.  With coffee and tips: $32.

Holy shit, that took a long time.  I need to do this more often.  But I've said that, often.

Good through October 30.

Oh, Shit, I'm Gonna Get It Now

I'm out in the dining room because I really, really need to catch up on my receipts.  (It's almost the end of October and I haven't even done it for September yet.)  I rarely do this because I don't want to be bothered by my parents.

Mother comes upstairs.  She asks me, out of the blue, for no discernible reason, "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing paperwork."

For some fucking reason she repeats herself: "What are you doing?"

She heard me the first time, I know it -- "I'm doing paperwork!"

"You don't have to shout.  You sound like you want to fight.  I ask because I care about you."

See, she's said that bullshit all her life.  The woman who flipped out at me after she found out my cousin had a baby and she thought I was keeping that a secret from her is accusing me of overreacting.  Fucking rich.

For all these years I have relied on my reasons (more like justifications) for me reacting to her in that way.  I had a train of thought that she derailed.  Or, I felt that if I said something nice to her back, that would give her an in to talk about other things I didn't want to talk about.  Or I thought it was just a dumb thing to answer to so I didn't.  But after this spat last night, I think it's something else: This is a way for her to impose herself on me.  This "What are you doing line?" isn't genuine curiosity.  For fuck's sake, she could see me work on my receipts on the table, she didn't have to ask me that.  Instead, she said that because she wanted to bother me.  She wanted to impose herself on me.  And, more than that, she wanted to pick a fight with me.  She's so goddamn insecure about herself that she will probe and parse every letter I say to her to see if she can spin it into an insult.  She can then go after me and feel justified in doing so.  That's how she lives.  That's how she thrives.  Man, I really like this theory.

And now I'll have to reap the whirlwind.  As is her modus operandi, in the future, My Fucking Mother will start yelling at me for something unrelated to this perceived slight last night that she has now stored in her rage bank.

You know, I kind of feel the same way about my boss right now.  See, near the end of the workday yesterday (Tuesday), I was performing a work task on my own.  I was freelancing, but in my job I am given latitude to freelance.  My boss told me as much; in fact, he said at the time that figuring out what to do on my own will become expected of me.  But after I got done doing what I thought was best for the department, he sent me an e-mail telling me what I should be doing for the rest of the day.  "At the end of the day, it is expected that you would be doing either 'x' or 'y,'" he said.  Obvious inference: Doing "x" or "y" instead of the thing I was doing.

I don't think it was that big of a deal.  Maybe it isn't on his end, either.  And maybe I'm taking it the wrong way; I don't know him like I do My Fucking Mother.  And yet I still can't shake the feeling that he saw me doing what I thought was the right thing to do and passive-aggressively saying, "No, why the hell are you doing that?"  So, if that is the message he was trying to convey, and I play dumb and continue freelancing like I do, is he going to come down on me?  I don't know.

There are a lot of things I just don't know right now.  Well, besides humans suck.