Another Busy Week Ahead

There's an MNUFC soccer Match I desperately want to get out of (more on that tomorrow, if I remember), and I have reserved a ticket to see the latest Spider-Man on Thursday.  (About that: When faced with the deadline to purchase an advanced ticket for five bucks, I chose Thursday ... just because.  And either I didn't think about it at the time or I decided I couldn't do it, but I now realize that I should have reserved a seat for an IMAX showing.  They don't have an IMAX screening on Thursday.  They have one tonight/Monday night ... but it's at a time where I would have to stay pretty late at work to make it make sense for me to drive to the theater instead of home.  Wish there was an earlier time that would fit a time I think I will get out of work tonight/Monday night.)  That also opens up the chance for me to see Super Troopers 3 on Wednesday, when I get out of work early.

So that's three days where I'm doing something after work, and they come back-to-back-to-back.  At my advanced age, that's a lot.  I'm tired just thinking about it.  But as long as I can frolic free without my parents even vaguely being disapproving (let alone knowing), I'll do it!

Yardwork (Water)

Went to bed around 3, woke up just about at 8 exact.  This is my second and final day off, and I was hoping I would sleep in, but alas, I did set aside some time over these past couple days to work around the house, so if my body says I need to be up at a time like everyone else, well, so be it.

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I wanted to take another crack at adjusting the sprinkler heads so that they wouldn't shoot so much water onto the pavement.  I thought all I needed to do was to take this key, shove it into the hole in each sprinkler, and crank it counter-clockwise.  But I tried that before and it didn't work, and I don't think it worked this morning.  I think the instructions said I had to use my off-palm to crank the top of the sprinkler head all the way to the right, and I can't do that.  It's hard to do when they're all moving.  So maybe there's nothing I can do.

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That's important because the sprinklers alongside the boundary with one of my neighbors sprayed that neighbor's driveway and, because they were parked there, the cars, too.  I was hoping the water wouldn't spray the cars, but it did.  Then, as luck would have it, someone came out to drive away from their home.  They must have seen the front door all went from the sprinklers.  So maybe, even though there's nothing I can do, I have to do something to not piss off my neighbor.  Maybe not run the sprinklers at all?

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Last time I ran them, on Sunday, I saw a huge pool behind one of the sprinkler heads in the backyard.  That's one of the things I wanted to investigate in my two days off.  So when I ran the cycle through, I found the culprit: One of the other sprinkler heads is loose or leaking or something, because water is just gushing out of it from every which way.  So now that needs to be fixed.  But how?

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OK, not a blurb about yardwork, but it is about water.  I am now committed to trying to maintain the water heater.  And I am going to do it this weekend.  We have garden hoses to attach to the water heater, but they are all, like, 25 or 50 feet.  I am more comfortable using a short one so I can dump the water into a bucket and then take it outside.  (I'm worried about leaks in the hoses, plus I need to see how dirty the water in the heater is.)  This morning I saw in the shed that we have a three-foot hose, but that only has two female ends, so I can only flush the water heater.  I want one to attach to the, what, temperature and pressure (or T&P) switch so I can see if that works, and so I need a hose with a male end.  I went to The Home Depot to buy one, and there was one that was six feet long, but attached to that is an adapter.  So I just realized: Why do I need to buy a hose when I can just buy an adapter and attach that to the small hose we already have.  So now I need to find a place that has that adapter.  So maybe I won't maintain the water heater this weekend after all.

Overwhelmed ... And It's My Day Off!

I have so many chores I need to do -- washing the dishes, talking to people about organizing events, cleaning up the house -- that, even though I have today and tomorrow off, I feel even more busy than I would on a normal workday.  I only have time to do the things I need to do ... such as take my car to the shop, which I need to do right now.

I realized all these things as I woke up this morning.  And I did so without the help of the alarm.  That's because, once again, I went to bed early and woke up at a normal time.  I spent last night going through my stuff at my locker, then showering because it is so hot.  I don't want to do things now, and I can only partly blame the weather.  The rest?  Well, I don't know, but I don't know if I'm going to do any of the above things I need to do today, either, because I'm watching the World Cup and then planning on exercising (something I haven't done in weeks) later today.

So overwhelmed.

I was going to blog post about me deciding to attend the Women's PGA Championship at Hazeltine (tl;dr in case I don't ever get back around to talking about it: I'm glad I went) or the time Friday I went downtown just to watch the World Cup and a growing party just fucking got in my way.  But before I left for Hazeltine yesterday/Sunday I juice half a lemon and got 35 mL out of it.  That meant I had to drink two cocktails, and since I got back so late I had only till 9:30 p.m. (I juiced them around 11:30 a.m. and I think you have up to ten hours before the juice starts to taste bleh) to use them, and I realized while watching Red Sox-Yankees on NBC that it was past 9, so I made and downed a lemon drop martini and then quickly followed that up with a between the sheets, and not only do I have a pounding headache, I think I may have poisoned myself.

So, to summarize, that is what I'm blog posting about ... while also providing a possible cause of death in case I don't wake up in the morning.

Golf Or Soccer?

Tonight was where my paralysis is at its worst.  I don't know what to do between two things I want to do, and the variables are either so even or so unknowable that I am completely a waste.  Since I got home (early) from World Cup viewing I took a nap and surfed the Internet.  All because I cannot decide if I want to drive all the way to Chaska to watch the Women's PGA Championship in Hazeltine, or watch the first Round of 32 World Cup Matchup between Canada and South Africa at this new Mediterranean place close by me.

One of the main things I use to determine what I should do is figuring out the chances I'll be able to do it in the future.  While the World Cup is every four Years (and I'm just watching it on TV), who knows the next time a golf major comes to town.  Using that factor, I should be going to the Women's PGA, and it's a no-brainer.

But there are a lot of things that are making me balk.  One is the weather.  It's supposed to get very humid starting today/Sunday, with dewpoints bursting through the seventies in the afternoon.  I am not a fan of humid weather, and I don't know if I can stomach sweating through my clothes for a few hours (at least).  Compare that with when I went to Sunday Singles at the Ryder Cup, which was also held at Hazeltine.  That was held in late September, and there was no heat or the humidity to contend with then.

What may be more of an annoyance, however, is that I don't necessarily find watching golf in person all that enjoyable.  I remember I went to the 3M Classic (when it was part of the Seniors Tour, not the current 3M Open for the PGA) a few times because it was at the course close by and it was free.  That was in the dog days of summer, and my goodness, it was hot.  I was able to endure, but it kept dawning on me that I'm doing a lot of walking around and a lot of sweating, and it overpowered any joy in watching great golfers play.  Also, and this may be too obvious, but golf courses are big.  You have to walk miles if you want to watch the whole thing.  And I don't know the first thing of the layout of Hazeltine.  Sure, there will be maps of the course, but I'm bad at directions.  Also, I don't know who I want to follow.  Should I just park myself at the 18th green?  What if the tournament is decided before then?  And how about the sightlines?  Will I be able to see anything besides the backs of people's heads?

Still, it's a major.  And while I won't know exactly how it'll feel tomorrow, I kept checking the forecast and it has said, for at least the past few days, that temperatures will hit 80 in the afternoon and the sky will be cloudy.  Considering the dewpoint, if the forecast called for sun, no way would I go.  I would not be able to deal with it being that humid and having the Sun beat down on me.  But overcast?  Yeah, it'll be 80 degrees and it'll feel swampy.  But I won't feel like I'm frying from the Sun's rays.  I might have a chance to at least tough it out.

There are other determinations, too.  If I'm going to watch the soccer Match, the place is so, so close.  I could drive the minivan and give my car a rest.  And speaking of my car -- I finally had the chance to check the oil in my car inbetween Games yesterday/Saturday, and the damn stick was dry.  I poured half a quart of oil and checked later, and then I saw some oil on the dipstick.  But it kind of freaked me out, and that is making me think I should give my car a break.  Finally, I really, really do need to do chores (going through my stuff and washing dishes mostly), and I won't do it if I have a 40-minute drive back from Carver County and am too pooped to do anything once I get home.

Still, it's a major.  So I am going to sleep on it and, depending on when I wake up and what the sky looks like and how hot it feels, I'll either make the drive to watch the best female golfers in the world play in my neck of the woods or I'll just puss out and watch soccer while eating shawarma ten minutes away from me.  These are the days where I want some deity to give me a sign that definitely tells me to do this or that.  Why can't I have that?

He's A Little Bitch

So I stumbled on this account on Bluesky that tracks and notifies you when someone blocks you.  I didn't seek it out, but like I said, I just came across it, and without thinking about it beyond saying to myself, "You know, I might want to know who hates me," I followed it.

There is a guy I follow.  This little bitch will remain nameless so my dissection of him (hopefully) remains untraceable.  He's a local person who likes sports and keenly follows the Lynx.  I like the Lynx and local sports, so I followed him.  He skeeted the World Cup schedule, specifically that there are quadruple-headers from today/Sunday until Tuesday, then tripleheaders where two Matches go on simultaneously for the next three days after that.  All I said -- all I said! -- was that this was a soccer orgy.  A little later, the block Bluesky account told me that this snowflake blocked me.

For what?!  I just wanted to confirm with him that he regarded it as a soccer orgy.  What the fuck is the problem with that?!?!  Does he not think my wit is refined?  Does he hate the word "orgy?"  What the fuck is wrong with him?!?!?!  So I did the mature thing and blocked his ass in return.  And then I worried about all the other Lynx/Minnesota sports accounts I follow on Bluesky and wonder if they would take his side over mine.

And then I had to stop myself and remember something all of us too often forget: This is social media.  This is the fucking Internet.  I don't know this guy.  I like (well, liked) his stuff, but I don't know him.  And even if I am butthurt, I have to remember that this guy doesn't know who the fuck I am and doesn't give two shits about me even if I did like and repost every skeet he made.  So even though it hurts to seemingly be rejected by someone whose work I admire ... I'm getting bent out of shape over some motherfucker I don't know.  Why am I so upset?

Maybe it's better to be ignorant.  Maybe it's better to not know who blocks you on Bluesky.  But once I realize this doesn't affect my life in any meaningful way, I'll get over it.  But he's still a little bitch.

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.

They Stay The Same Age. But Me Getting Older Might Be A Problem After All

So after work last/Saturday night I went to this roast beef place just south of my company.  I was on my way to the Black Hart to see MNUFC play (and lose -- goddamn, what a fucking shit pass to give up the Game-winner).  I really, really wanted to see The Preakness Stakes, but because I decided to stay a bit over to grab even more overtime, I thought I resigned myself that I probably wouldn't make it to the Black Hart to see the race, especially since I had my heart set on getting this place's legendarily good roast beef after work last/Saturday night because it will be the only time in the foreseeable future 1) it would be on my way to doing other things and 2) I would naturally be hungry right after work.

I get there and the cashier taking my order is a beaut.  Fuck yeah, she is gorgeous.  But young.  I think, and hope, not teenager young, but she could not have graduated from college.  Seeing a hot young woman speaking to you, even only because she has to, brightens my day, so I order a roast beef sandwich cheerfully.  And what do you know -- this restaurant actually has a TV.  (I've been to this place before, but it's been years since the last time, so maybe they didn't have a TV then.)  I could relax and let go of my stress because I could see the horse race after all (well, the reception was poor, but at least I saw Napoleon Solo outrace the other horses at the stretch run without the feed cutting out).  I had an excuse to talk to this babe again; this time, I requested the TV be turned on to the Preakness, and because I had a reason to stay beyond eating my sandwich, I ordered french fries too, which I had planned to order until I decided to stay late at work and calculated that even though I couldn't catch the race in time, I should still make an effort to get to the Black Hart as quickly as possible ... which makes no sense now that I typed out that thought.

Anyway ... have no complaints with her service.  In fact, when I ordered fries, she just skipped past the tip screen, which I guess means she likes me ... ?  But it's not as if I could chat her up or anything.  She served me my roast beef and fries, and that was it when it came to interaction.

Still, she is fucking hot.  And as I finally left after eating and watching the race, it just so happened that three young women entered and immediately began speaking to that cashier.  They obviously are friends with the cashier from school who dropped by to chat or eat or both.  They were fucking hot, and unlike the cashier, who had to dress for work, these friends dressed for the hot weather we had and, well, dressed like young women, with their goddamn boner-inducing midriffs hanging out and shit.  If I didn't have to go -- and if I were younger and less savvy -- I would sit down and steal looks at these three babes.

And then I realized that it was most important for me at that time to go because I had plans.  I can say that my younger self would've dropped everything I would've done because ogling these chicks would be an urge I could not get over.  And beyond that, the age gap was so apparent as to be instinctive.  Even if I could assume these women were of college age, they still would be less than half my age.  Could I even think to have small talk with them?  What would we even talk about?  TikTok?  The new Olivia Rodrigo album?  What they're studying?  Finally, from the quick glance I took of the faces and bodies of these three hotties (do people say "hotties" anymore, or am I cringe saying that?) I think ... well, that they all look the same -- with each other, and with the cashier they said hi to.  Maybe if I sat and looked at them for a longer, creepier period of time, I can discern distinct differences.  I mean, they can't be quadruplets.  But am I wrong to think that all young women these days look alike?  I don't think I can say yes, but I'm going to stick to my guns and not say no.

Not going to lie; if I were a lot younger, I would be masturbating to the memory of these four babes.  That feels ... wrong now.  So maybe Matthew McConaughey was also wrong in Dazed And Confused -- even though what his character is saying would now be construed as Trump Disease:

Dealing With Too Much E-Mail

I tried.  OK, I kind of didn't.  I had the occasional impulse to go through my e-mails and see which ones I wanted to read and which ones I could delete.  But once that urge went, it didn't, or hasn't come back for months, if not years.

At its worst, I had 100,000 unread e-mails unread in my main inbox.  Nearly all of them are political donation e-mails, and goddammit, I totally regret ever donating to those campaigns, though I'm mad mostly because my side lost.  But the donation e-mails haven't stopped.  There was a time I could go through every single e-mail that I got each and every day.  But once those donation e-mails hit my inbox, I couldn't.  So I thought I could let it go for one day ... except one day became two, and then it became a week, then a month, and then 100,000 unread e-mails.

What finally forced my hand several months ago was that Yahoo! Mail said I was bumping up against my storage limit.  Though theoretically I would eventually have to worry about the limit with all the non-political e-mails I still have in my inbox since Day One, it's all those fucking donation e-mails that have taken up all my storage space.  So, with the proverbial gun cocked and aimed at my head, I finally had the excuse to say fuck it, I'll just delete e-mails without looking at them.

But how to do that?  Going through individual e-mails to make sure they were political ones defeats the purpose of a mass delete, so I went with deleting by keyword.  But which one?  I wasn't feeling a sense of urgency.  But I knew, deep down, that I wanted to just get under this limit as quickly as possible, so I just wanted to find one keyword, zap all the e-mails with that keyword even if some innocent and non-political ones get swept up, and be done with it.

I profess I didn't think too long and hard over the one word I decided to use -- "donate."  It seemed to be the one word in every political e-mail I had.  After all, the point of those e-mails is to ask for money.  So I searched for "donate," clicked the all e-mails box, and deleted away.  Yahoo! Mail gives you a box with a final warning.  In this case, it told me that I was going to delete, say, 100 e-mails -- and then gives me the option of deleting, like, 10,000 more e-mails that also have the word "donate" somewhere in the body.  And I'm all, OK!  And Yahoo! Mail actually had to take a few minutes, but those 10,000 e-mails were gone ... and yet there were more even more e-mails in my inbox that had the keyword "donate" but weren't deleted yet.  So I had to go through this cycle two or three more times before it apparently found and killed off all the e-mails with "donate."

Got to be honest: I'm happy.  I was never going to go through the e-mails in the way my ideal self wanted to because I simply didn't have the time nor the inclination.  This massive kill-off is untidy and inaccurate, but it quickly got me down below the limit.  And I had bumped up against that limit a couple more times not too long after this first time, but I guess I had more e-mails with "donate," so zap! they went.  Finally, I'm under, and hopefully for good (so long as I get rid of the political e-mails that will infect my inbox after I die).  I know that I will be sentimental for e-mails that I really, really wanted to keep but unfortunately had "donate" somewhere in the body of that e-mail ... that is if and when I ever realize they're gone.  But I finally dealt with too much e-mail in a way that, if I were telling the truth to myself, I really like and wanted to do.

Oh, and one more thing about the Lynx Game today/Saturday: I realized that since I went downtown to watch English soccer this morning, I am going downtown twice, which seems like a waste.  I guess I could rationalize it by noting I am going to two different areas of downtown, and I won't be crossing paths twice today, but still.  Maybe it couldn't be helped.  Nonetheless, it's quite weird.

The Hottest Babe In The Hooters Calendar: April 2026

I've gotta admit that my enthusiasm for doing these monthly reviews has completely subsided now that the local Hooters has closed.  It's not as if the women I'm reviewing and jerking off to were working at MOA, but I had this ... well, irrational and vicarious feeling that they could.  Now that the closest Hooters is in, I think, Iowa, the servers in this calendar are just pictures to me.  There was literally no chance that I would meet any of these hot babes in person before, but now that there is no Hooters at the Megamall anymore, there is absolutely no chance.

But soldier on I will till the end of 2026.  Unfortunately, I am seeing a trend that I don't like: The crop top.  I like crop tops so long as the Hooters waitress wearing it isn't wearing anything underneath.  This isn't porn, however, so of the five Hooters girls who are wearing bare-belly shirts, four of them obviously  are wearing bikini tops underneath, and I'll just go ahead and assume that the fifth is wearing one, too.  That is way too much clothing for my liking.

There are a dozen servers for this month, and I can point out four of them.

In fourth place is Maddie, out of Loveland, Colo.  Dark blonde wavy hair, she is sporting a two-piece yellow bikini.  She's got a nice figure, but the things that place her on this list are her smile and the fact that she's wearing a cowboy hat with the Hooters logo.  Yep, that's enough for me.

In third place is Alyssa, from Newark, Del.  Long black hair, she's wearing a two-piece that is light purple/lavender in the important spots and are connecting with lime green string.  She's smirking.  With her left hand she's tugging down at at the middle of her bikini top.  And with her right hand she's placing/fake-tugging the knot that's holding up her bikini bottom.  It's all intimation, but yep, that's also enough for me.

In second place is Taylor, hailing out of O'Hare, Ill.  (Not O'Hare Airport, but the city of O'Hare, which I didn't know until now is a city in Illinois.)  The brunette is wearing a patterned two-piece bikini.  While she's tugging at the middle of her top, she's pursing her lips, and honestly, what I like about her is that she gives off a tomboy vibe.  She certainly doesn't look like a Hooters girl.  That makes her more real, and more approachable.

Finally, in first place is Anna.  The server with very long black hair (it goes all the way down to her hips, in fact) and deep and glistening black skin is sporting a yellow two-piece.  She's first because she is one of the few women from the now-dead Hooters at The Mall Of America I've seen in these calendars.  And, I was lucky enough for her to sign this calendar, right on her own picture.

Now that I've written my thoughts down, I realize that I spotlight all four because of technicalities.  Sadly, that is the nature of a very blah month that is further weighed down because most of the women are wearing too much clothing.  But don't worry -- I have already pleasured myself to this month.  Congratulations to Anna and the rest, and I hope Anna has found new and gainful employment.

Just realized that the downside to eating leftovers and thus saving money by not eating out is that you have to do the dishes almost every single damn day.  Did it for dinner last/Monday night and I have so many dirty dishes and silverware that I just decided to stop before doing them all.  Because why?  I have a blender I'll need to clean this week because I need to finish a smoothie, so I might as well pace myself and do the rest of the dishes with the blender some other night ... assuming I don't make more dirty dishes and silverware that'll be too much for me to do all at once.  It's expensive to eat out, but at least I don't have to clean up after myself.  Sheesh.

So That's Why The Rear Seat Wouldn't Stay In Place!/Poor Pen/How Angry My Father Gets

I think this happened, I think, shortly after my parents left.

I have my back seats arranged, well, strangely.  The back seat on the driver's side is put all the way down.  That way I can throw a blanket on top of it so that, when I crawl into my car to sleep for lunch at work, I can just get into the passenger seat, reach over and bring it up to the front.  Also because I need to sleep at work, I lift up the bottom of the back seat on the passenger side.  That way I can completely recline the passenger-side front seat so I can rest.  It's a perfect system.

For reasons I now forget, I had to fold down the back seat on the passenger side so that it looks normal.  (I think I did this at work, even though that's immaterial to this story.)  There is a bar on the bottom of the seat that is supposed to latch to an anchor on the floor, and for the life of me I couldn't get it to latch.  Finally, I looked at the floor ... and I saw almost a dozen bits of a pen, just strewn on the floor mat.  It wasn't just snapped in two; it was obliterated.

Seeing this, I think I realized how that came to be.  During a time when my parents were still home, I wanted to lift up the rear seat on the passenger side because I wanted to put my computer bag there.  I could have just stood it up against the laid-down seat, but I guess I was going somewhere where I wasn't completely sure my car wouldn't get broken into, so my plan was to fold up the seat, lie my laptop bag flat on the floor, and put my car shades on it so no one could see it.

I distinctly remember laying the computer bag flat with one of its pouches unzipped.  It was a pouch in which I keep my pens.  I also distinctly remember thinking I should zip it up because I don't want anything to roll out of the bag, but I thought nah, it won't happen.  Well, I'm guessing that poor pen did roll out of the bag and onto the floor, and when I grabbed my laptop bag, I didn't notice it got loose.

I don't remember this part, but I have to think that at a later day, without my knowledge, My Father put that back seat down.  That pen must have gotten into the anchor, preventing him from locking the seat in.  The only way he thought he could get it to go down and stay down was through force, so he just pushed down the seat repeatedly and violently, not knowing that the reason the seat wouldn't anchor was because that pen was in the way.  So he basically broke a pen into pieces by smashing it with the bar of a car seat.

I get the frustration.  But I'm hung up on how much force, and really how much violence, you would need to destroy a pen just because a car seat wouldn't secure.  But then again, I could see My Father being so angry to the point of using brute force to get what he wants.  I've seen it.  I've been a victim of it.  Preposterous or not, seeing those pen remnants is a reminder of how vicious My Father could be.

I will zip up the pouches on my computer bag from now on.

I Want To Know When I Need To Go Into Work, That's All

Now, I preface this by saying that I'm blog posting this due to unusual circumstances, namely that my co-worker is going to be out for a while because she is hurting in a big way, though I don't specifically know why or how.  One would think that would be an acceptable reason to see one's schedule change, even though that would mean a change in time you start your shift, like my job does.

But most of the time -- and again, I'm not blaming anyone, this rises only to the level of annoyance -- I don't know what I'm doing at work, and therefore I don't know what time I need to get in, sometimes until my last day of my workweek (usually Friday), and sometimes I don't know until I get in to start my workweek (usually Monday).  Beyond knowing what time I need to get in and thus knowing what time I need to set my alarm, I would want to know what I'm doing -- whether I'm doing data entry, I'm in The Third Department, or The Fourth -- before next week starts so I can get into the right frame of mind.  Each different position requires doing different things, obviously, and I want to know what I'm expected to do each day of the week before that week begins.  Again, I understand I might not know when I want to know.  Things come up, such as my co-worker being in traction for a while.  Also, my boss is real busy.

But when things change on me, I have to alter my plans.  Let me be selfish and rant here.  I was given my work schedule for this week on Friday.  There, I was supposed to come in to work early on Friday only.  And considering we have been asked to stay beyond our shift to key almost on a regular basis since, oh, the year started, my plan was to work a bit extra yesterday/Tuesday, go to the post office downtown, mail my taxes, then celebrate by going to a fancy restaurant downtown.

My co-worker being out injured switched around my entire week.  Now, my early day was, actually, yesterday/Tuesday.  And while I had to stay a bit after to get all the data entry done, I got done before the post offices (at least the ones here) closed at 5.  That meant I didn't have to pay for parking downtown to file my taxes at the downtown post office, which closes at 8.  Yeah, that could be seen as a good thing.  But I don't like it when my plans are changed for me, even if it means I could get home earlier than I thought and wouldn't have to pay for parking, which is a huge pet peeve of mine.  I spent a substantial portion of my workday wondering if I should just go to downtown anyway, even though I would be there way earlier than I thought.  Ultimately, though, the facts that I could mail my taxes before the conventional workday was over and could do it without paying for parking convinced me I should move this dinner at the fancy restaurant, which I was looking forward to, to another day.  (I also realized that the Twins were playing at Target Field last/Tuesday night.  I don't think they're getting any crowds, even though they're playing quite well right now, but I didn't want to risk any chance of losing my temper over traffic.)

However, having my evening freed up invited another opportunity I had to spend some mental bandwidth contemplating: Working out.  I haven't been to my gym in weeks, and after bellyaching over, well, my aching belly after eating so much while watching the WNBA Draft Monday night, this might be a sign that I could, and should, work out.  But I remembered I also had a plan of finishing off the two ginger beers that have been open for weeks in a dark 'n' stormy.  Not knowing what to do, I decided to go home after eating dinner at a mom-and-pop Mexican restaurant and try and sleep.  If I couldn't lose consciousness in half an hour, I'd get up and work out.  Instead, I woke up around 7:30.  I walked up and down the street for exercise instead.  And I drank my cocktail.

Still feel kind of bad I haven't gone to the community center.  But that's what happens when your work schedule changes on you.

I Make Bad Choices

So I was at this bar last/Monday night for the WNBA Draft (the Lynx will rue that they chose Miles over Fam Thiam, book it).  I wanted to stay for the whole thing, but the wings I got weren't enough for me.  So I got these "Chicken Dunkers," and when the server asked me what else I wanted to go with it, I realized I may have gotten myself way over my head, or stomach.  And lo and behold, I got this small but bountiful basket of chicken ... well, they're smaller than tenders but bigger than nuggets, put it that way.  And there were tater tots, which I chose, interspersed with those.  I finished, but barely, and now I feel fat.  Because I am fat, and I make bad choices when it comes to eating.

I was so tired after coming home I went to bed after the news.  As I was falling asleep I realized that there's a bruise on my left knee.  Have no idea where I got it from.  I didn't bang something hard at work or at the bar.  Maybe it happened spontaneously.  Maybe my body's breaking down.

I make bad choices.

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

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

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

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

Fucking Sister's Fucking Mad At Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn, Car Trouble Fucks Everything Up

Man, don't you hate it when you have to stop everything just because of car trouble?  OK, I am exaggerating what happened and didn't happen yesterday/Tuesday, but it's still a pain in the ass.

So I go out to sleep in my car at work for my lunch break.  My paranoid eyes always makes me think I'm seeing something that's not there, but on this day, they latched onto something unusual and, turns out, scary: A bulge/blister/bump on my passenger-side tire.  Honestly, I didn't think anything of it.  I just thought I needed to deflate the air in that overinflated tire (didn't help), and then I went inside my car to nap.  But that bubble concerned me anyway, so I had to go to my cell and Google, "is it dangerous to have a bump on the side of your tire?"  And all the entries in the search said, "Hell yes, it's fucking dangerous!"

(Aside: I seem to have more problems with tires on this car than I ever had with my old one.  Is it because it's a subcompact whose tires are naturally lower profile?  I remember getting one of my tires punctured the Friday before Labor Weekend, and now this.  By the way, that bubble is probably the result of hitting one pothole, or one too many potholes.  Goddamn potholes.)

After making a couple calls to see if I could get a tire after work, I decided that after work I needed to swap out that tire for the spare.  But dammit, my mechanic screwed those lug nuts in so tight I couldn't loosen them.  I did not believe at all that I needed to call AAA, but because I am too weak, I had to.  Luckily, even during afternoon rush hour traffic and him helping me being led astray by his Google Maps, the guy who was about to save me arrived at work after one hour.  The last time I called AAA (and I think it was when I had to stop the minivan around St. Thomas for what was a broken alternator), it was at least twice that long.  And after using WD-40 and a long-handle lug nut remover to get as much torque working, he got the bad tire off.  Roadside assistants are angels, they truly are.

Also angels are, I now realize, the only car mechanic in the neighborhood that's open evenings.  Why aren't there more car shops that are open evenings, or weekends for that matter?  Cars don't break down at night or on weekends?  Anyway, the place I babied my car to was the only one around the area open at 7 at night.  And even though they couldn't get the same exact tire for me that evening, they can do so this morning.  Also, they did what I asked them to: Check the other tires to make sure they're fine, and to check the air pressure on the spare (even though I asked the roadside assistant to check and to pump it up.  I always forget to check the air in the spare).

So I talked about having plans ruined.  Specifically, I wanted to eat at either Culver's or Potbelly, two places where I can get free dessert for my birthday.  I then wanted to go home, look through the mail, call Mother about the mail if need be, then maybe nap before I caught the 8 o'clock showing of Ready Or Not 2: Here I Come.  But after I got everything arranged for the (hopefully) quick tire swap this morning, I got my car back, spare tire still affixed, and I still had time to make the movie.  I didn't feel completely safe that I could drive to the theater to watch when I could, and maybe should, drive back home.  But a mixture of relief that people were able to help me and defiance that I didn't want my car trouble to stop me from the fun I planned on having compelled me to get to the movie.  And I made it in time.  And the film was ... um, bloody and profane, but OK, just like the first one.

One problem after I left the shop and before I went into the theater.  I locked the door with the key fob, but I didn't see the light flicker on indicating everything got locked.  I then noticed that the hood was slightly open.  Now I noticed when I was at the shop, looking through the window into the bay where the mechanics were looking at my car, that the hood was opened up, presumably for the guys to go through their customary check of everything in my car even though I was just there to get a tire replaced.  I didn't think anything else of it, though, because I assumed they would slam the hood shut.  But they didn't.  I didn't drive really fast; you're not supposed to on a spare, plus I used side streets to get from the mechanic to the theater.  But I realized that I drove several miles with the hood open.  The hood of my old car flew open while I was driving to the gym a baker's dozen years ago, and that was the scariest fucking thing that's happened to me on the road ... well, OK, maybe top five.  My point is is that it seems very, very dangerous to drive with the hood open.  I don't think anything got ruined, and yet I feel my car is beyond repair because I drove it with the hood open.  Look, if anything did get damaged, I probably won't know till much, much later.  Fuckin' A, man -- these guys were quick, and they treated me well.  But they fucking forgot to slam my fuckin' hood shut?!

No, I probably won't bring it up.  Again, if there's damage because I drove with the hood open, how would I know?  Oh, well, you take the head-slappingly bad with the good when you're in a jam.  Hopefully they can just get me my new tire and do so quickly and easily.

Where My Scatterbrained Stupid Self Pretty Much Fucked Everything Up

I want to think things went downhill as soon as Florida got upset by Iowa last/Sunday night in the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament.  I had them losing in the title Game.  With that pick gone to seed, I think my chances of winning either of my bracket pools has also gone to seed.

I got the notification from The Athletic while I was about to go into Target.  I had that 5% birthday discount I wanted to use, but I had been thinking all day on how to and even if I should use it.  I knew I wanted to buy baking soda and a new silicone scrubber to replace my dirty loofah (I should blog post about that loofah later).  But what else?  I need to maximize my discount by buying things I need to get, but I kept going back and forth about whether there are items I only wanted to get.  A circle lock, for when I rent out a second storage unit so I can finally really get down to organizing my stuff?  Well, they didn't have one.  Motor oil?  Nah -- I checked prices on my phone while I was in there; it's cheaper in a few other stores.  Should I get a lime?  I think I'll be out and about again next weekend, so it wouldn't make sense.  I swear there was something else I thought I needed to get, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember.  But I did remember the baking soda and scrubber, so that's what I got, and I was able to strike a whopping 60 cents off my total.  Happy Birthday to me!

And then I come home and, once I went into my bathroom, I realized there was something else I really wanted to get: Tea tree oil to put on the back of my head to get rid of the acne back there.  And I knew I was going to forget something when I went to Target.  I thought about writing a grocery list, but I didn't want to write it down, and I didn't want to bring a piece of paper with me.  Still, I knew there would be a good chance I would forget something, and still I didn't want to write anything down.  And so the tea tree oil I really want to buy I will have to buy without that 5% birthday discount.  I'm so ashamed I think I'll have to buy it at Wal-Mart, where I think it's probably a bit more expensive than if I bought it at Target, even without the 5%.  Can't walk back in to Target without hanging my head in shame.

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I just ate a Krispy Kreme donut with milk.  The Krispy Kremes were free through its application because it was my birthday.  But I didn't want to eat them all at once.  In fact, my OCD compels me to eat them only every other day.  And it turns out I skipped a day.  Hopefully the last one lasts till Tuesday.

Doughnuts, of course, go with milk.  And this quart of milk I had bought, hmmm, some time ago.  I thought it was still good because the use by date stamped on top of the bottlecap reads today/Monday.  So, just like I have done, I poured some milk into a bowl into which I dunk the doughnut.  Once I finish with the doughnut, I slurp up the rest.  But this time, motherfucker, it tasted funny.  And then I smelled it.  Honestly, it smelled kind of funky for, like, a week before today, but it smelled even worse now.  Goddammit, I think I just drank spoiled milk.  I dumped the rest out of the bowl, then dumped the rest out of the bottle.  I thought it would still be good!  But come to think of it, when I opened it for the very first time (I don't remember how long ago), I saw that part of the cap was already pulled away from its rim.  And maybe I'm being a hypochondriac, but I am feeling really dizzy right now.  A little dissociative, too, like I'm not a part of this body that is typing this right now.

But the thing that kills me (literally?) more than wasting milk is the fact that I had, oh, three weeks to finish off a quart of 2% milk and I couldn't fucking do it.  It was just a quart!  Maybe my lactose intolerance gave me second thoughts.  But I had plans on using a lot of it in a smoothie I was going to make.  I have the fruit in the freezer.  But I was going to make it only after I work out, and I've been too damn busy to work out, so I haven't made the smoothie, so I haven't used the milk that way.  Reminds me that I also have greek yogurt inside my refrigerator.  It has a stamped sell-by date of April 16, but that fuckin' stamp did me no favors with the milk, so for all I know, the yogurt's already bad, too.  Might need to bring it with me to work this week.

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You know what?  I thought I had a third thing I needed to blog post about illustrating how my dumb ass was fucking myself in another, but I forgot.  Oh, my self-destruction is so meta!

Ice Out Date: March 5

Golly, I just realized that now, when I say "ice out," it has a whole different connotation.  I don't mean those thugs who are kidnapping non-White people and murdering observers.  I have an annual tradition (sort of) where I note the day there is no more snow on the ground in the front yard.  There can be snow and ice in the back yard and the sides of my house (and I checked yesterday/Thursday and there are), but I declare no more snow once I no longer see it in the front yard.  And I saw none when I came home from work yesterday/Thursday.  So the ice (actual) out date is March 5.