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.

Stripper Parties Are Back -- But I'm Not Going To Any Of Them!

It's been a long, long time since I've been aware of a few house parties going on in the same weekend.  The prevalence of those died out largely due to the pandemic.  Nowadays I hear one from time to time.  Lately, there has been one going on regularly.  But the frequency of those parties to the point where I have to turn some of them down?  Probably a thing of the past.

But not this weekend.  Within the past seven days, I've been notified of four stripper parties this weekend: Two today/Friday (with one ending at the same time the other is starting), the one going on regularly tomorrow/Saturday, and one doing double-duty as a Super Bowl watch party Sunday.

And I'm not going to any of them.  The first one this/Friday afternoon is only a couple hours, and it's happening while I'm at work.  The one beginning this/Friday evening is too far for me to drive to, or at least I don't want to drive that far.  There's a snowstorm coming tomorrow/Saturday, and even though it isn't going to drop, like, a foot of snow, I don't want to deal with driving or parking in Minneapolis, so that's out.  Finally, I like tits and HJs, but if the Super Bowl's on, I want to concentrate on watching football, not gorgeous and naked women (I can't believe I'm saying that).

So I am in the process of rejecting all four house parties going on this weekend.  I don't think I've ever said no to so many parties going on around the same time.  The old Unforgivable Wetness would look at me with scorn for not going to even one.  But hey, maybe this is growing up.  Or, it could be aging.

By the way, the organizing stripper for the stripper party this/Friday afternoon said that if I can't make it to the party, she could come over to the house.  But she, whose name is ****e, insists on bringing another stripper, ***i*, along.  Now, I've gotten some play with ***i* before, but it was a long time ago.  Moreover, ****e is really pushing having the two of them service me.  If those two can come over after the party in the evening, after I get home from work, perfect.  But I asked for a price tag, she gave me her offer, and I simply cannot afford to spend that much money on two strippers.  I told ****e that, and I haven't heard back, which to me is a sign that she's not going to pursue me any longer.

Man: Four house parties this weekend and I won't go to even one of them.  Smh

No Stripper Wants To Come Over

**y, one of the stripper girlfriends who has serviced me in the past, was supposed to come over this morning to do me.  It's been a long, long time since she's done that, so I was really looking forward to seeing her (naked).  But when I woke up she texted that she doesn't feel well, so we're not doing it.

This comes on the heels of another stripper girlfriend, ****e*, cancelling on me earlier last week.  No sexual activity with her; no, she was supposed to clean the house in time for Chinese New Year.  But she too said she was sick.  My house will have to remain dirty.

Two stripper girlfriends, two rejections.  Sorry, it's hard to not take this personally.  Yeah, strippers flake.  Sure, strippers lie.  But I can't help but shake the feeling that after initially saying yes, they no longer want to keep their appointment with me.  Or, to put it another way, they find me and our relationship disposable enough for them to blow off our appointment if and when they want to.

All I know is my house is dirty and I am untouched and therefore I am not comfortable.

Got Fired From An Experiment

If I have been rejected for research studies before, I haven't been "fired" like this.  This particular research study comes from a group affiliated with the University of Minnesota for whom I had been a guinea pig for another of their experiments previously.  Moreover, I have struck a rapport with these guys.  They invited me to their office and brought me in for a discussion group.  I'm not saying we were going to have beers together or anything, but as far as research studies go, we had a, well, guess you would say a "relationship."  And it was neat.

But then came last/Wednesday night.  The head researcher, someone I have never met, is a gruff personality, which I chalk up to him being, I believe with evidence, to be a native of China by his accent and directness.  From my previous interactions with him, we were never buddy-buddy, but he never led me to think that I would be rejected for the experiment he is spearheading as I went through screening after screening, progressing like nothing was wrong.  But there was, apparently.  I was at home waiting for last/Wednesday night to conduct another phone screening that could last an hour.  I was kind of surprised when the head researcher called me; an obligatory screening is something one of his subordinates would usually do.  Turns out he wasn't doing a screening either; he told me that, based on the answers I gave on the online surveys I had to do before this screening, I was ineligible.  What I thought would take at least 30 minutes took only five.  He said goodbye; I think I beat him to hanging up the call.

I don't know what the fuck I did.  The research study had to do with pain, and boy, I have a lot of it right now.  Eventually, I would be enrolled -- and get paid to -- take part in classes that deal with rehabilitating the places where I hurt.  These classes would take a few months, and the surveys from those classes would last into the summer.  I have done these intermediate-term experiments before, and I enjoy them ... and the money that goes along with it.  But there would be no money beyond the $20 the head researcher paid me for the privilege of telling me over the phone, "Nope."

Have to look on the bright side.  It frees up time I would have had to devote to these classes.  And for last night, I could get to what I wanted to do after the call -- go out to my storage unit, bin my garbage at a gas station trash can, and eat at Taco Bell -- earlier than I planned.  But shit, man, I could've used the money, not gonna lie.

We're About To Shiv A Good Man

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

She Finally Got The Hint

So there is a stripper whom I have blog posted about before here on WAF.  I met her once before when she was doing dances at **y's place.  She's quite old and her skin is stretched out and shit.  I got dances from her once where she jacked me over my pants.  That was enough for me to believe she was down to fuck, so when she started inviting me to other parties she was working, she would text me.  But somehow, I would get there and she would never be there.  Instead, the only girls working there were, well, ugly and fat and kind of scary.  This missing her when I got to the parties she was working (and, I think, hosting) that I once texted her in frustration that I thought she was going to be there and why was she not.  She said her kid got hurt and so she needed to run home.  I don't believe that, nor do I believe her when she subsequently said she drove back to the party.

That was at least two years ago.  That may even have been before the pandemic.  Regardless, that was the last straw for me.  Not getting touched by her in years, plus her series of excuses of not being at a party she invited me to, plus getting only fugly women to work these parties, and plus accusations of ripping off other girls who worked house parties she hosted (including **y), and I gave up ever seeing her.  And as time went on, I stopped caring that I would see her.

With that being said, she still had my number, and she continued to text me whenever she either was doing parties or working at a strip club in the region.  I told her that I was busy or I had no money, but to be honest, I had no interest in seeing her.  Also, some of the parties, and the strip clubs she now works at, are way too far for me to drive to, even if I did have money and was horny.  But she always accepted my excuses and was very cordial to me, saying, "OK."

Till yesterday/Tuesday afternoon.  She texted me that she was working at some club 90 minutes from here tonight/Wednesday night.  I told her that "job issues" came up.  That excuse is vague, and even if me thinking about changing jobs is real, it should have no bearing on whether or not I have the ability to see her.  But that's the reason I told her I wasn't able to see her at the club tonight/Wednesday night.  And she said, basically, "OK, it's been two years of you telling me you can't make it.  You're off the list."  And my first thought was, "Wow, she finally put two and two together."  But then I texted her, "Sorry," and she said, "That's OK," and I suddenly felt all guilty.  Does she think I was stringing her along?  Because, well, I was.

But, will I try to see her again?  No.  I probably won't.  Eh, whatever -- she still has my number.

Had No Idea What To Do Or Where To Go Tonight

I had three things I could do tonight:

• I could stay home, watch sports and Saturday Night Live, and do chores, namely go through my stuff.  But the host for SNL is a comedian who slurs Asians, and by principle, I cannot and will not watch that shit.  In fact, I want to be out of the house when the show is on.
• I could go to the Cold War Kids concert at First Avenue.  But I went downtown to watch EPL this morning, and it seems like a waste to go to the same place both in the morning and then the evening.  Plus, the cost of a ticket is a little more expensive because the show is sold out, something I didn't expect would happen.  Beyond that, it's not an inexpensive ticket, and I still should not  be spending money willy-nilly, especially now that my boss is cock-blocking me from working overtime.  I just checked my checking account and, uh, yikes.
• I could go to the Girls' State High School Hockey Championships at the Xcel Energy Center.  But I am seeing a concert of two choral groups, Cantus and The Canadian Brass, at the Ordway tomorrow/Sunday afternoon, and I'm not really feeling going to St. Paul on back-to-back days.  Also I'll need to find parking in St. Paul, and I loathe paying for parking.  Finally, and I don't know if people know this, but the government agency that runs high school sports here in the state, The Minnesota State High School League, are a bunch of assholes.  I had a run-in with them when I was a part of The Media covering a Boys' State High School Hockey Tournament, other media members have had their credentials rejected for bogus and even no reason, and over the summer the association initially prevented three students from participating in a section track and field meet because their coach mistakenly left off their names off an entrance sheet.  That really pisses me off.  These motherfuckers at the MHSHL actually believe their shit don't stink.  And so, by principle, I don't want to validate them by paying a ticket for an event they run.  (There's another complication: One of my stripper girlfriends, *****a, works as a server in downtown St. Paul.  I want to eat at the place she works at, but there is Cossetta, another place I haven't been to in a while which I love.  Which place to go to?  And frankly, this dilemma would be solved if I did go to St. Paul both today and tomorrow.)

In the end, I have decided to ... go to the Cold War Kids concert.  I think, deep down, I will not do anything that benefits anyone I don't like.  (By the way, it'll be too tempting of me to turn on the television and watch SNL if I'm rooting around at home.)  So I will spend some money, have my hearing blown out, and go downtown twice in one day -- although, if I can rationalize this, it's two different parts of downtown, and I will not be crossing paths when I go back tonight.  And then tomorrow, after the concert, I guess I'll go to both Cossetta and the place where my stripper girlfriend works at.  Because hey, what's money and getting fat, right?

I Think My Fellow Alums Don't Like Me Much Right Now

So I run this e-mail list where I promote our game-watching events for football season.  Well, one of them, who I have met in person but haven't seen in years, complained to me that one of my e-mails led to a phishing e-mail from one of the people I e-mailed.  She wanted me, rightly, to look into it and make sure I delete that e-mail address.  One problem: I don't see that e-mail address on my list.  I don't know where that came from.

What do I do now?  I want to help, but I don't know how, especially since this didn't look like I had anything to do with it.  I thought about asking her to forward this phish to me, but that would mean I would get phished, wouldn't I?  What concerns me is whether she continues to believe I bear some responsibility.  Again, I want to be a man about this, but I don't want to take blame if it's not my fault -- and I don't think it is.  To be continued, I guess.

---

Meanwhile, I ran into another fellow alum at last/Wednesday night's United FC Match.  I actually saw him first in passing on the concourse, but I don't think he recognized me, and I couldn't remember his name until he passed me by.

But then, as I was sitting in my seat, I saw him again.  He was going to his seat which was just a couple rows ahead of me.  I shouted his name at him and we chatted very briefly, about a minute.  I stammered through what I said, which consisted of "Hi" and "How ya doin'?"  I said I'd let him go to watch the rest of the Match (which was about go to Halftime, great timing there) and that I'd catch up with him to say goodbye, presumably, after the Match was over.  But when the Match was over, he and his son bolted up and went down the stairs.  I screamed at him goodbye, but even with the loudness of the place as the fans were about to sing "Wonderwall," I don't know how he didn't hear me.  Maybe he didn't.  Or maybe he heard something about me he didn't like, and that's why he hasn't said anything to me for the past several years.

Maybe I'll try and reach out to him and say it was nice running into him.  Or, maybe that's not the smart thing to do 'cause he doesn't want me to reach out to him.

Addendum To: Seeing A Gig I Can't Work After Not Seeing A Gig I Can Work

I need to take back what I said when I said the Twins gig I was offered was the first sports-related job I turned down not because I had a huge, sister-focused trip.  I have to remember the pandemic, where hiring for those jobs was kind of a clusterfuck.  Unlike being offered those gigs months in advance, I was told that they wouldn't be hiring until up till the week of.  Knowing that I need to tell my boss at my real job when I can and cannot work, getting only, say, five days' lead time for that Sunday's Vikings Game was nearly impossible.

I was reminded of that predicament when I was scrolling through my texts to make sure I haven't missed any offers for jobs.  I got an offer on, I think, a Monday for that Sunday.  Couldn't do it because, I think at the time, I was filling in on Sundays, and I promised my boss I was working.  By the way, she never acknowledged my message, no "OK, I'll look elsewhere, thanks for letting me know."

So, yeah, I have rejected these sports gigs before.  It doesn't make me feel any better that I turned down this Twins job, though.

I Didn't Get The Job. FUCK

So I e-mailed -- a second time -- those people who are hiring for the game, and one of them finally got back to me yesterday/Monday afternoon ... "Sorry, we already filled the position with someone else."  My worst fears are now realized.

One-and-a-half days.  It took me 1 1/2 days to get back to them.  They couldn't wait?  Really?  Or, is this a case where they didn't see my response of acceptance when I got back to them the next night -- nor my follow-up e-mail the following Monday (so a week ago) asking if they got my previous e-mail from before that weekend.  That's what I suspect.  Or, they did ask another person in the 1 1/2 days I didn't see that they e-mailed me, and that's when some other dude swooped in and took the job.  I need to unsubscribe to all those fucking campaign donation lists, goddammit.

Whatever, man ... I'm pissed.  And hurt.  And dejected.  I don't care that I'm being dramatic when I say I was really banking on the money I was going to make that week -- for working the game and for using paid time off from my day job.  The bills are still piling up, and I could really use some double-dipping.  But no, that's not happening.  And I feel a real, bitter need to tighten my belt as a result.

And yet I cannot project that bitterness on my reply e-mail to them.  So I think I split the difference: I told them I got back to them the day after while stating it was my fault I didn't get back to them sooner (classic passive-aggressiveness), but accepted their offer to circle back to me in case they do need people after all (keeping my options open), plus I also accepted their offer to help out in case their caravan comes back later in the season (acknowledging that I have read what they wrote).  It's the best I can do for missing out on money I need.  Jesus fucking Christ, I wanted that job.

Yep, Got Too Perverted Again

Stupid me, giving a hot girl I befriended on Facebook an eggplant emoji after seeing her looking so fucking hot in a bikini.  Baby, I don't need help -- I need you to say that you're turned on by what I gave ya!  Or, failing that, not block me, which she did.

You know, I set up an alias so I could do this without getting caught.  But I scrolled through all my past Messengers and saw that I have given the eggplant emoji to a lot of hot women on Facebook.  Like, a lot.  And you know what?  They weren't turned off by it ... well, at least they didn't say they were.  And they haven't fuckin' blocked me.  I'M BEING CANCELLED!!!

I tried doing what I had been planning on doing, which is friend all the hot women I'm Facebook friends with on my alias, then defriend them from my actual profile.  I would do this only for babes who never replied to my Messenger texts; I figure that if they ever have responded, we sort of "know" each other, and I would like to keep that "friendship."  But once I migrate these babes I have a one-way relationship with, I can bombard them with as many eggplant emojis I want because if they get offended, they won't know who I am!

However ... I have already given them eggplant emojis.  I don't know if they know who I am, but would it be possible for at least one of the many, many, many women I've given these to at least remember it was I who bestowed these eggplants upon her, and so if I give her an eggplant emoji under my nom de social media, she'll go, "Another fucking eggplant emoji?  You know, there's this other guy who also gives me eggplant emojis ... (gasp) they're the same guy!"  And then my cover's blown, and although I need to perv out as much as possible, if people find out I'm him, it's over.

Now, is it as over as it might be now, where the person who just blocked me will now come after me knowing she knows who I am?  Fair point.  I haven't been hit with any spam or threats on Facebook yet.  And just in case, I blocked her, too.

Maybe I should stop giving eggplant emojis.  But shit, where's the fun in that?

Seeing A Gig I Can't Work After Not Seeing A Gig I Can Work

Now I'm worried.  The gig with the Golden Gophers I received last Wednesday afternoon to which I did not answer until last Thursday night/early Friday morning has not been confirmed.  I e-mailed them on Monday to make sure they got it and didn't overlook it because their inbox is also flooded with political donation messages.  But I haven't heard back.

Meanwhile, after I got up from my evening rest (which went so long that I probably won't fall asleep until 4 o'clock comes, at which point I plan on leaving to go to the Black Hart to see the final Group Stage Matches of the Women's World Cup) I scrolled through my e-mail on my phone.  I've been looking for a confirmation e-mail for the Gophers gig at work on a regular basis, and no, it's not a healthy thing.  And last/Wednesday night, I still haven't received it.

Instead, I got an offer to work Twins Game.  Unfortunately, and for only the third time ever, I rejected the offer to work.  Maybe even more importantly, I think this is the first time I've ever rejected a gig not because I was going to be out of the continental United States to celebrate my sister.  I had to say no because this is on a Saturday, and not just any Saturday, but the first Game of my alma mater's football season, which means I am usually busy planning and watching Games with my friends.  You see, we need to watch this Game at a restaurant in St. Paul we went to last season, but (in my opinion) is still too new for us to just walk in and act as if we run the place.  We have way more familiarity with our main bar, and I am trying to convince myself that is the difference between working last Year's Twins Game and not working this Year's.

Last Year I worked for the production mid-September.  It was a Saturday, and my football team was playing its Second Game.  We did not have a viewing party for the first Game because we could not find a bar that had the network that broadcast that Game.  That meant that the Second Game was the first Game-watching event of the season, and I had some misgivings about not hosting a Game-watching party for the second Week in a row because that would establish of pattern of not hosting, and that would hurt attendance, plus I would have been missing hosting the first two Games of a season, and I think that looks bad.  However, our main bar is one we've been to for many, many years now, to the point where I don't think I have to show up for the people who run the place to know other people are coming.  I think I went to our main bar earlier that week to say that there is a Game on at this time of night, and even though I won't be there, many others whose faces they may recognize will.  That was enough for me to convince myself that my friends could take care of getting the Game on their TVs by themselves and without my help.  And that self-sufficiency allowed me to work the Twins that night.

That isn't the case here.  I still have to go to St. Paul and eat there (for the first time since last season) to make sure they still carry the channel.  With all that uncertainty and unfamiliarity, I think I need to be there to host.  I would much prefer to work the Twins Game, no doubt.  I just can't do it this time, however, and I hope I have built up enough goodwill with the network over the years that they will come back to me if there is another Twins Game they are broadcasting in future seasons.

There are three things, by the way, that I have to point out about this offer I just said no to.  First of all, like last Year's gig, they are coming here late in the season.  Target Field is spectacular during the summer, and maybe even around Memorial Day.  Nothing is precluding them from showing a Game then, when I'm not worried about college football season and can totally work for them.  Besides, I'm scared that, like last season, the Twins will collapse and play like the non-competitive schmucks they were when they lost that Twins Game I did work last season.  Second of all, a college football season usually starts Labor Weekend.  This gig I declined is the Saturday before Labor Weekend.  It just so happens that my alma mater's team is playing what they call a "Week 0" Game this Year.  If this were any other season, I could probably work it, goddammit.

And finally, I have to point out this irony: I responded to this e-mail about 4 1/2 hours after the requestor sent it.  I shouldn't berate myself so much because if you're not friends with yourself, you're in a world of trouble, but it took me a day and a half to respond to the Gopher job, which I can work and which I in all honesty lucked into finding because I was afraid I missed this offer I thought was coming my way.  However, this silent treatment makes me think I was too late in answering.  The guy asking me to work the Twins Game urged me to reply quickly because he was about to ask other people.  The person offering me the Golden Gopher job didn't say that, but by not responding to my reply either last week or Monday, I'm afraid that he has already asked other people, and someone said yes.

I think I will e-mail them again overnight.  I don't want to sound desperate, but I kind of am.  And hey, I need to know if I need to clear my schedule at work to work the Gophers that week.  This production has always been good and getting back to me on offers I have said yes to.  Why they haven't on this very important (to me) gig (full circle wording that ties this essay together) worries the hell out of me.

New Desktop As Paperweight

Father bought a desktop a year or so ago, but he put it back in its box because he wasn't going to be home much nowadays.  Instead, he keeps using his very old desk, one that I think still runs on Windows 7.  That does make a kind of sense if you're OCD.  Then again, would it really hurt to just, you know, use a new desktop, even if you're only going to use it sparingly, if the old one is using a no-longer up-to-date operating system?

Anyway, even though I think they're not going to be here for more than a month, yesterday/Friday Father took out this new desktop.  On our way home from the airport he said something about Microsoft automatically updating the very old, Windows 7 computer.  Anyway, after dinner and before I wanted to take a much-needed, start-of-Memorial Weekend/start-of-long-holiday nap, Mother shouted out from the basement to Father about asking me for his help with something.  That something was helping Father get into the new computer because he forgot the password.

I don't remember the circumstances for why we needed to set up a password to get into it in the first place because if he was going to mothball this new desk, why set up a password to get into it when we all know we're going to forget it?  Maybe there was no way to use it without it.  Anyway, I remember seeing this new computer one day and not seeing it the next.  When I brought it up with my parents, Father showed me that he stashed it back in its box.  I thought that would be trouble later because we would have to re-learn and remember everything, including the password, but that's a problem for when that day comes.

Well, that day came yesterday/Friday, and I spent a frustrating several minutes trying to type all of our pet passwords we regularly deploy (I know that's not secure, but c'mon, everybody does that, and if you say you don't, you're a liar) and keep getting rejected.  We brought up the security questions, but we forgot the answers, including the pet answers we regularly deploy.  We could use a password reset disk, but we don't know where that is.  So now there is a new, barely-used desktop computer that might as well be a paperweight because it's not doing anything.

I just looked up a way that I might be able to circumvent this all, but I'll do that for my parents after I get home from watching the EFL Championship Play-Up Match this/Saturday morning and going to the library.  Hope it works; otherwise, this computer is pretty damn useless.

I Could've Escorted This Redheaded Babe, But Nope

So I worked a Twins Game for the network for the first time in years, and maybe even a decade (or more) early in the fall.  This was in the middle of the Twinks' freefall from the top of the Division to out of playoff contention.  Anyway, I was just overjoyed I could work for the network in this capacity again.  The baseball team is perennially skinflint, but watching a Game there, and getting paid to watch, is something I hope never to take for granted.

Anyway, when I get to the compound, I see someone who is running alongside me.  For the first time in a long time, it's a woman.  More than that, she's gorgeous.  Good lord.  And she's a redhead, and if I haven't told you yet, I have a weak spot for redheads.  (I have a weak sport for all beautiful women, but I digress again.)

She wasn't snobbish or standoffish.  Actually, she is kind of an extrovert.  I don't do much chit-chatting, but we got to Target Field really early because we were told to, and so during runs to get groceries and coffee, we had a lot of downtime, so we got to talking.  It's something that helps the day go by, and she was quite engaging, but yes, I was talking to her because she's fucking hot.

As I got to know her, though her, uh, quirks came out.  I kind of noticed this first when she wanted to take pictures of the booth the production had for the Game.  She wanted me to take pictures of her -- partially because she just wanted them, but partially because she has dreams of being a field reporter, and sports is one avenue she wants to work in.  No worries, I snapped a photo.  And then another.  And then a dozen more.  And then dozens more.  She asked if I wanted pictures.  I am in no way going to be a field reporter in this lifetime, but to mark the occasion, yes, I asked her to take photos of me.

After snapping, oh, 60 pictures, we went down to the field to make sure we knew how to get there in case we needed to get down there in-Game.  We were at a place not too many people are, so snap-snap-snap we took of each other on our phones.  It was there that she got really, really picky about how she was posed and how the shot was composed.  She was really apologetic about it -- "You know, you're gonna kill me since we already took a few dozen photos, but ..." -- but we soldiered on until she was satisfied.

Later I learned more of her backstory.  She was raised by her grandparents more than her parents.  No shame in that.  But then she got cagey about her age.  I think I was trying to give her advice about breaking into the business I said I was still trying to break into but, just between you and me, have largely given up on.  She's, and I quote, "In her twenties," and I could tell, but I didn't think she needed to be so vague.

---

I thought that was the end of that, and I probably would only see her again when she's doing some local Game on public access.  But for a Vikings Game during the regular season, I saw that she was running.  I have no idea how she latched onto this network, but I saw her beautiful face and smile again.  She was out on the field and I was working in the truck, though, so no small talk.  No matter.  We both had jobs to do.

After the Game, one of her fellow runners, and someone with whom I have worked with a lot over the years, found me in the break room while I was sitting down with a post-Game meal.  He was looking for me because she wanted someone to escort her to her parking ramp, and he wondered if I could do it.  Now, it makes total sense for a woman in downtown Minneapolis to ask for an escort; men are toxic, and you don't know what could happen to a solitary woman downtown.  But ... I usually stay after because 1) I want to eat free food and 2) to wait so the post-Game crowd can clear out of the area.  I hate waiting in a ramp to get out.  Hell, I did that at the end of the Twins Game.  Sorry, won't do that again.  Well, when she came up to ask me herself if I could escort her, I didn't say that.  Instead, I said that I want to eat and wait, and when I'm ready I'll text her -- we exchanged numbers while working the Twins Game -- and if she still needs an escort, let's do it.

I usually stay 90 minutes, two hours after the Vikings Game is over.  It's me time.  But because The Redhead asked, I got done after an hour.  I texted her, "Do you still need someone?"  Never heard back.  After a while, I assumed she found another escort, so I texted her again, "OK, it seems as though you're good.  I'll see you around."  And that was that.

---

But it didn't occur to me that she could work the Vikings again.  And on Sunday she did.  But this time she didn't ask for an escort at the end of the Game.  She didn't even see me until after the Game was over.

When I do have time to myself, I go to a personal bathroom and poop before I leave.  On my way up a couple levels, I saw The Redhead.  I thought she had been released to go home, but apparently she was still working.  I don't think she saw me; she was walking down the corridor but I was at the door leading up to the single bathroom.  When she passed me by, I thought, just for one second, to holler out, "Hey, if you need an escort to your car tonight, I can do it!"  But I thought better of it.  If she needed an escort, she'd ask me.  And quite frankly, I did kind of "reject" her that first time, so maybe she didn't think it'd make sense to ask me again, even though this time I totally would've done it.  So I looked at her fiery red hair and said nothing.

Maybe that was the last time I'd ever see The Redhead.  If so, there is a missed connection I might beat myself up over, from time to time, until I hit the dirt.  Take it, Pharcyde:

I'm exhausted.  And if not for that catnap I got just now, I would totally be tirangry.  Travel has got me so strung out.  And that I have been gone for two weeks and I have to get back to a snowpack I need to plow in order to get my cars out of the driveway has gotten me real anxious.  Worst of all, I have to admit, is that I have asked people to pick me up to take me home, and no one is saying yes.  I could use a pick-me-up (literally) today, and it ain't happening.  So I'll have to use fucking public transportation for 90 minutes to see if the house is still standing or if the pipes have burst.

I have no friends.  And I am angry about that.

A Tad Miffed Yesterday

Despite getting out of work "only" 45 minutes after my shift should have been over, I think yesterday/Tuesday was a shitty day in The Fourth Department.  Everybody sucked today, from the truck driver who may have given me a sideways finger (what the fuck is that?  Didn't have the wrist strength to turn your finger all the way up?  Lol!) after honking at me on my way to work to the two little kids who wanted me to open the exercise room door for them even though I'm not supposed to.

But yesterday, the people who really sucked are my co-workers.  There is one person from another department who wanted to let us know that she could step in when we get forms from this company for which we don't know a piece of information.  This goes against our policy, but we turned it over to her.  But for this particular form, there were two pieces of information I needed, but she gave me only one.  Well, once a form gets to The Fourth Department, we usually reach out to the employer/client to give us the information we need.  But if this person volunteered to step in and do the fact-finding herself, I figure she could just investigate on her own and tell me that other piece of info I need.  No, she hands it back to me and says, in no uncertain terms, to find that my own damn self.  Look, if you're going to step in and say you can find this, and you know my job is to find this and that (if I need to find this and that), wouldn't it be easier for you to find this and that?  Shakin' my head.

My supervisor pissed me off, too, probably moreso than anyone else at work yesterday.  She wasn't there (she was working at another building), but I reached out to her for a question.  She basically said, "I'm not there, so why don't you ask the boss instead?"  Now, I understand that she probably didn't want to be bothered, and she may have been busy at her job.  But I swear -- I swear -- that she told me that if she ever had a question, even if she was home from work, I could ask her.  I have asked her questions even when she was off the clock, and most of the time, she answered them.  I don't know why she rejected me this time.  Yeah, it's not as if I can stay mad at her -- I will have to ask her questions when she is there -- and besides, she has done and will probably continue to do a lot for me.  Still, it rubbed me the wrong way when she said that, OK?  I am still a tad miffed at her, though I was a tad miffed at everybody yesterday.

No Sexy Time For Me Right Now

So *****a flaked out on me again.  She said she was delayed, but I told her that last/Sunday night I was busy, so we're going to try again tomorrow/Tuesday.  But I've gone through this song-and-dance before, and odds are she won't be able to make it then either, at which point I don't know when I'll be free, so fuck it, I'll just tell her I'll check back with her some other time.

I've been busy/cautious with my sexual activity as of late.  I've been working like a dog, but I remember not too long ago I've been getting my dick wanked weekly, sometimes semi-weekly.  That meant a lot of money flowing out of my wallet.  I am getting stir-crazy with the lack of attention to my cock right now, but the upside to having no one coming to the house or having stripper parties to go to is that at least one spigot of money outflow is firmly shut, at least for now.  (Have to also note that not getting a massage from ******a, who apparently is having another mental episode right now, is also saving me a lot of cash.)  I have to admit, of course, I want to change that, and if the stars finally align right, I'll be pissing away money like nobody's business, and I'll be totally cool with that.

Well, I may have blog posted about this before, but a letter I got last/Tuesday night may have closed the book for good on trying to get back the $89 I paid for a Rolling Stones ticket I never got.  Despite my appeals to it, the credit card company once again rejected my evidence that I got fucked over.  And like the first time they rejected my claim, they said they couldn't accept my evidence because it came too late.  Bullshit.  I sent it in on time, you guys just said I didn't.

I want to make these big companies pay.  Stubhub is the resale company who failed to get me the ticket I paid for.  Visa is the credit card company that made up lies about me in order to deny my claim.  Fuck both of them.  I won't use Stubhub for as long as I can possibly avoid using their ass.  And I will dramatically scale back using my Visa.  I can't cancel the card because it'll reflect poorly on my credit score.  And it's always good to have a second credit card just in case.  But I'll do my goddamndest not to use it.  It's the only way I can make them pay for screwing me over.

She Didn't Like Any Of Them?!

The consigner rejected all of my stuff -- the three suits, the suit vest, the six dress shirts, the shorts, the four pants, all of them.  I was told that there were telltale signs of "wornness" and that, maybe most damningly (I am speculating here), all the clothes were at least three years old.  Oh, so you want your clothes young, like a sartorial Jeffrey Epstein?  You gotta be fuckin' kidding me.  And what do you mean by "worn?"  I didn't see any rips or holes or anything.  All of the pieces I turned in (and there were some that I didn't bring in) looked fine to me.  I thought that there was some, er, leeway when it came to the condition of one's clothes.  These are secondhand, after all.  But no, apparently they have to be perfect, otherwise they're just Goodwill shit, amirite?

I have jeans from 7 For All Mankind that I was willing to give them to sell.  I have pants from J. Crew that I don't think I nor anyone else has ever worn.  Both items are the tentpoles of the 15 pieces I was going to give them.  They didn't want even those two things?  They didn't they couldn't sell them?  Or were my items just beneath them?  Fuck, man, I don't get it.

At least I know that consignment shops (at least this one) have a hoity-toity attitude to clothes that people have worn more than seven times.  Maybe a more down-to-earth place, like Goodwill or the Salvation Army, will think these clothes are good enough to take.  No, I won't get money for them.  But it appears as though I wouldn't get money for them wherever I go.  Lesson learned.

You know what sucks?  Jonesing to get off on some porn, but when you click on a pic in order to blow it up, you get the "Forbidden" page.  My parents put a parental lock on their Internet, turns out.

Right now I could use some female touch.  I could call up a couple locals, but I don't know if they're free, and besides, it's going to feel weird sneaking away from my parents to ball out.

Man, my urges are hard difficult to keep under control.