Ruined Showers; Times Before And At The Very Start Of Supergirl

So I still don't know when they're coming back.  That's good in the sense that I still have the house to myself and I still have the opportunity to go through my things (even though I probably won't).  The bad news is is that I was hoping they would come home to at least a semi-clean house, but that won't happen till they, well, come home.  In the meantime it's still hotter than hell outside so I have taken a shower in both the upstairs (Monday) and downstairs (last/Tuesday night) bathrooms, thus "ruining" their cleanliness.  They might be coming home to bathrooms as dirty as they were before ****e* came to clean it on Sunday.  And sure, she last came over in February, so everything needed a cleaning, but still.

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So I also sated my OCD/principles and watched Supergirl again last/Tuesday night, and this time I was able to get to the theater in time to see it from the start.  I timed the beginning of the movie to the point of the movie where I came in last week -- four minutes.  I missed the first four minutes of the movie.  If only I had gotten my ass out off the toilet just four minutes earlier, I wouldn't've needed to subject myself to this again.  However, one thing is irking me.  I timed the preview time, i.e. the listed showtime to the time when Supergirl actually started.  Backdating four minutes, the preview time of the film last week was 20 or 25 minutes.  When I went last/Tuesday night, 25 minutes had passed from the listed showtime and, I swear, they were still in previews.  So does the preview time change from week to week?  I though preview times shortened the longer a movie runs in theaters because fewer and fewer people pay for tickets to see it and therefore it doesn't make sense to show trailers of upcoming films for fewer and fewer eyeballs.  You mean to tell me that if I were running as late as I was last week to watch Supergirl this week, I would've made it to the start??  (Oh, by the way, last week I also watched Toy Story 5, and even though I was running 20-5 minutes late again, I got to my seat just as that film was about to begin.  To avoid getting bored by trailers, I will keep skirting preview times.)  

On the bright side, it wasn't a chore to see it a second time.  Knowing the general outline of what was going to happen next helped me understand the plot of the movie better.  Sure, it's not as if Supergirl is a deep film, but you know how confusing mass-market movies are these days.  And it wasn't the worst thing in the world to see.  I give it a, oh, B-/C+.

Changing Plans (Stripper, Stillwater)

So right around this time I was supposed to see *****y at her cottage for a wank session.  Then, I would switch out of my porno pants and spend a couple hours around Stillwater close by.  Then, I would go home and nap before the Loons Match.

But nooooooooo, my stripper girlfriend changed plans again.  Instead of 1, which is when she wanted me to come over, she now wants me to come over a bit past 5, which is when her son goes to work.  Well, shit, why in the hell didn't you just say 5?  Your son doesn't know when he's working until the day before?  And of course this fucks up all my plans.  If I want to still hang out in Stillwater -- and I guess I do -- I now have to do it before getting jerked off by *****y, and then I can't come home because I might as well just hang out on that side of the Twin Cities and go down to St. Paul.  Weird to be doing something out in public after getting an HJ.  Oh, well.

Hanging all over this is the weather.  It's supposed to get hot starting today, but it's been cloudy all day.  That and, you know, meeting *****y when she first wanted me to cum over would lead me to going out and walking outdoors around Stillwater for an hour or two.  But not only will I not do that now, I might not do that at all because the Sun is supposed to come out later this afternoon.  I might be spending my time in Stillwater indoors, which may or may not be fun.

Is She Coming?

So ****e* became unreliable again.  She was supposed to cum yesterday/Thursday to work on the house, but she said she just got up, then she was moving slow, then her ex dropped off her kids, and then she said she was just not feeling good.

Whatever.  She now said that she's coming Sunday.  She said she no longer works weekends, but frankly, she needs to make this up to me.  After all, she promised she'd be here yesterday/Thursday.  But I have plans to make a run to Clear Lake, Iowa and see the The Day The Music Died Memorial.  It'll take 2 1/2 hours to get there, and it'll be hot as hell Sunday.  On top of that, she said she'll be here at noon.  It would be best for me to go down there as soon as I wake up to attempt to avoid the heat, but now I have to wait and answer any questions she might have and leave in the afternoon.  And what do I do if she's late?

And yet, because of this fuck-up, I am even more determined to go down there and see it.  Doesn't matter that I won't be back up here until it's 8 or so.  That's what I wanted to do Sunday, and I'll fucking do it even though ****e* basically fucked up my plans.  Shit, it might be good at this point that she doesn't cum.  Dammit, so fucking unreliable. ...

The Time Where I Almost Fucking Lost It Watching The World Cup

So I made the mistake of going to downtown to catch the last Matches of Group G almost a month ago.  I heard downtown was dead because it was dangerous (which of course is bullshit), plus there were no Twins or Lynx Games whose crowds I would have to worry about, so I thought I would have a good time digesting both Matches in relative peace.

I found a table where I would be able to see two TVs, each showing one of the Games.  One was farther from my vantage point than the other, but that was fine, or so I thought.  Shortly after I sat down, this group of three people sat at the table next to me.  That was OK, even though they got a little loud.  One guy ordered a round of shots and another guy was wondering if he could eat, and then I got a bit concerned.

Then, this fucking group grew like metastatic cancer.  A fourth dude came, then another group of some number, then another, then another.  They started blocking my view of the TV further from my eyesight, which was Egypt-Iran, the better of the two Matches going on simultaneously.  (That finished 1-all; in the other Game, Belgium routed New Zealand, 5-1.)  They of course started getting really loud, which only worsened when this same motherfucker who bought the first round of shots decided he was a bigshot and ordered a couple more rounds with even more shots.

As bad as that was, I really started to boil inside when they invaded my personal space which, in this specific environment, was my table.  The group got so big that a couple of them began standing inbetween my table and theirs, and their clothes and, for all I know, their body fat pushed up against and hovered over the side of my table.  I was already upset that I couldn't hear or see the World Cup Games I was there to see, so that shit really put me on red.

Then, some guy who probably was not part of their group (I'll get to why I say that in a bit) put his glass of water on my table.  The other end of this short table I was sitting at, but this was My.  Fucking.  Table.  And this asshole just walked away without it.  This was my red line.  This was the point where I lost it, or I had to do something while knowing I couldn't yell or punch someone.  I saw him talking to his group around the other side of the pillar against which my table was at.  I just grabbed the glass of water, went up to this dude, and said, "Hey, this is your water," then sat back down.  And he probably thought I was crazy and/or an asshole, but he, I guess, was puzzled enough to find another place to put the glass of water and then forget about it.  But at least that goddamn cup wasn't at my table.

As for these fuckers to the left of me, which seriously grew to about 20 or even two dozen people, it didn't get any better.  They got even louder and rowdier, and they even started pushing up against my table.  But hey, at least they got into the Eqypt-Iran Match like I was.  The only thing I can think as to why they seemed to be so OK with getting sorta close to me, and this is a complete guess, is that, and I was able to hear this with little difficulty because they were talking so fucking loud, they were in town for a conference of Asian journalists.  They were all Asian, as, of course, am I and, even though I didn't have that good of a look at him, the shit who left his water at my table.  They may have thought we were all a part of this conference in downtown Minneapolis.  I find it kind of funny since I have a degree in journalism.  I am out of the industry, way out.  And while looking at these drunk and dumb fucks ruin my night, it crossed my mind how many of these young, over-confident shits will wash out of the industry like I did.  From those who are able to carve out a career, I wonder how many of them will become "insiders" whose egos will be so big they'll become insufferable pricks who fall in love with the smell of their own shit.  Then again, they're Asian.  They might not be allowed to get that big.

Thinking/Wishing all of these journalists-to-be will fail was the only socially-acceptable way I could get back at these assholes that ruined my World Cup viewing.  Good luck in journalism.

Water-Centered Plans Ruined By Sleep

Before draining (or attempting to drain) my water heater, I wanted to do three things last night: Shower, wash dishes, and wash clothes.  But I fell asleep around 10:30 and woke up around 4:30, and since I really want to do this this morning/right now, I can't do any of those three things.  Not showering sucks the most; I got sweaty again due to the hot weather yesterday/Friday, and I fell asleep on my sheets without wearing a shirt, so I know that the sheet has absorbed all my sweat, but I don't want to wash it, so I'm just going to continue to sleep on it until I just can't take it anymore, which could be up to two months.

Well, I'm sticking to my plan of draining this thing this morning, so I'm going to do it now.  Like I already said, wish me luck.

Expenses Without Receipts

Starting from Saturday, July 11:

• Well, we're going back to Friday, July 10, the day I went to a party.  Because of that, I stopped by an ATM to get money that morning.  I was going to dump a bottle of oil in a trash can, as well as an old Chick-Fil-A milkshake cup I had in my refrigerator that had a little bit of milkshake left but somehow froze even though it was in the fridge.then get a mocha from Caribou just a couple of suites away.  But standing ... there was some stringy White woman who asked me if I was going into Caribou.  She said she was kicked out of there for "trespassing."  Now that sounded weird, plus I had to go to work, so I just said I stopped my car to throw that bottle and milkshake cup away.  She then asked me if I could go into Caribou and buy coffee for her, and I refuse to help strangers that way, so I said no.  But that meant my cover was blown and I couldn't buy Caribou ... at least not from there, because thank Buddha there is another Caribou close by.  In fact, this Caribou is closer to work, but I always hated this one because of the shitty customer service.  This time around was OK, so maybe the bad baristas are gone.  Anyway, I hope the weird lady is gone now.  Mocha, pastry and tip equals: $11.75.
• The party after work that day was ... different.  Talked about *****y watching over me.  Again, I just wished I had performed better for ******e.  But at least she didn't charge me an arm and a leg over my pee-pee.  With cover it all came out to: $150.
• Monday the 6th ... this was the day where I went to the Black Hart after work to watch the Americans lose and be eliminated in the World Cup.  I thought I had used cash for everything I ate and drank there and just forgot, but turns out I only used cash for that busker who comes around selling her Mexican food.  Got an enchilada, but they didn't have any utensils to eat it with.  Come on, guys, do better.  Cost: $10.
• Back to Friday the 3rd, the start of a glorious long Independence Weekend.  I started it at the barber school so I could get a shave.  My hair was getting long.  Also, I was asked to do this video tribute to a guy who runs a men's basketball pool I've been a part of for almost two decades, so I needed to look good.  The shave was also good, even though I realized I needed to leave because I had things I needed and wanted to do.  Thought coming in on a weekday would allow me to get to my shave quickly, but since the 4th of July was the following day, everybody had this day off, so I had to spend a half-hour waiting.  Oh, well.  With tip: $14.
• This is The Summer Of Soccer, so I spent a lot of time, and money, reveling in it.  I went to the Black Hart after getting shaved for a Tripleheader of Round of 32 World Cup action.  I got there in time to order a Bloody Mary and a big Italian meat pizza.  I need to use cash more, and going to the barber school (I need money to at least tip), I had an excuse to use cash this time.  With tip, this meal was: $30.
• And I stayed from the early afternoon till deep in the night.  That night, that busker selling Mexican food at the Black Hart came around.  She knows my face now.  I ordered tacos, which were good, although a bit overpriced (IMHO) at: $10.
• Thursday the 2nd -- got out of work in time to see the Portugal-Croatia Round of 32 Match in its entirety, and in fact I had time to go to El Taco Riendo to watch it.  Had two rounds of food and drink: Chilaquiles and a Corona for the First Half, then esquites and a fountain Coke for the Second Half.  With tip it all came out to: $34.86.
• That night I wanted to see Switzerland-Algeria and this Mediterranean place close by me which was advertising them broadcasting the World Cup.  It was somewhat of a disaster, as I detailed here, but the food (Dubai chocolate cake) and drink (Adeni tea) was nice.  With tip: $16.
• Wednesday the 1st: More soccer.  Went to the Black Hart.  Decided on a whim that I was going to get a burrito from the Mexican food busker even though I wasn't planning on it.  Cost: $5.
• And since I used cash for her, I needed to use cash somewhere else.  Even though I charged everything at the Black Hart up till that point, I decided I needed to give a tip to stick to my OCD principle of using money at least twice if I am using it at all: $1.
• Looks like I have to go all the way back to Saturday, June 20.  I enjoyed some World Cup soccer in the afternoon at the Black Hart, where I got a dirty vodka martini.  With tip I spent: $10.
• I then went to see ******a at My Favorite Stripclub (I don't know if I need to say "Cover Version/Edition/Division" anymore).  This was the first time I saw ******a since she, uh, made all my stripper fantasies come true when she came over to rub me down, tee-hee.  It wasn't awkward, although I made a couple faint allusions over what she did to me.  Got 20 table dances from her.  With cover, tips and drinks for the both of us, the grand total came out to: $231.
• On Friday the 19th I went to Chimborazo to see my smart people group.  I hadn't seen them in a while, and I wanted to, especially since Chimborazo is both relatively close to work, from which I was planning on going to, and relatively close to home, to which I would leave Chimborazo to hopefully see the Brazil-Haiti World Cup Match in its entirety.  I was able to make it to the restaurant at our appointed time.  Work wasn't the issue; a sudden hailstorm was, but I braved through it.  The place was packed and therefore too loud for me to start any conversation with even the people at the table I was eating with.  That's not really conducive to a relaxing atmosphere (turns out that when I left, which was well after the Brazil-Haiti Match started), several other members of my party left, too), but I am glad this great Ecuadorean restaurant is doing well.  With tip I spent: $60.
• On Sunday, June 7 I went to my alumni spot to see my college baseball team choke away a lead both in this Game and their Super Regional series.  Very disappointing.  Plus tip: $35.
• Later that day I think I drove all the way to *****y's place to see her.  Gosh, I can't do that again - too far!  Anyway: $150.
• Wednesday, June 3: Quick tryst with ******e for only: $120.
• Finally, on Monday, June 1, ******a came over and made all the fantasies I had about a stripper servicing me come true.  Who says you can't have a clean dancer go dirty if you convince them?  All that and a bomb-ass massage for: $150.

Good through July 11.

I've Given Up And Am Going Out A Lot This Week ... Again

So I've bitched often (though not in the past week like I thought) about "needing" to go out too many evenings in the week.  Man, sometimes I just want to go home from work and fucking stay there.

I was trying to reach some equilibrium with that this week, especially since it's a holiday weekend and you're supposed to just veg out.  But I had to chuck that all out the window.  First it's because of my cousin and her son.  She said that Friday might work, but that's The Official Start Of Summer, and I had plans to go to my speakeasy and ease into this Endless Summer by drinking.  Saturday could work, too, but United FC has a Match in the afternoon, I wanted to relax with pizza and a beer afterwards, and there is the possibility of the English Championship Play-Up Match that morning (I say possibility because as I type this, there is a hearing to determine whether Southampton, one of the teams playing, should be kicked out for spying on Middlesbrough, the club it beat more than a week ago to reach the Final).  Sunday and Monday are a lot freer, but I was hoping to fuck ****e one of those days and stay in the other, and I want to do both so badly that I consider seeing my cousin one of those days, as convenient that it might be, a frustrating spanner in the works.  I don't want to say I would rather not see my cousin, but ...

I'm getting over myself.  For one thing, all this soccer watching is still up in the air; Sunday, for example, is Decision Day in the EPL.  If Tottenham Hotspur is still in jeopardy of being relegated, I'm going out to watch it at a pub that morning, and in that case I probably won't have any time to myself at home this weekend.  Still, I'm looking for some solace, and I have to look to the workweek for that, too.  My plan during the workweek was to go out last/Monday night because I had a gas coupon that was going to expire, so I might as well work on my receipts and eat out.  Tonight/Tuesday night and tomorrow/Wednesday night I would stay in, finally.  Thursday I would, for the first time ever, go out to the State Fair, which now opens for Memorial Weekend.  Then Friday's the speakeasy.

That was all shot to hell when I came home from work last/Monday night.  Taped onto my screen door was a notice from the city.  They're doing something with the main sewer line tomorrow/Wednesday.  Between 8 in the morning and 8 in the evening, I am not supposed to use any water at all in the house.  Well, fuck.  I might as well not go home after work.  So, what to do?  How about go to the speakeasy then?  I don't want to "celebrate" summer two days early, but frankly, it makes a lot of sense to just do this tomorrow/Wednesday night.  Not only would I give the city time to not mess up the house's sewer system, going out (instead of staying in) tomorrow/Wednesday night frees up Friday night for me to hang with my cousin and cousin once removed.  Looking at it that way, a lot of problems get solved.

So I'm being a social butterfly again.  Yippee ... ?

(Aside: I am working the early shift at work today/Tuesday.  I should be in bed instead of blog posting this.  Anyway, if I get done with work early, well, it would theoretically allow me to go exercise at a decent hour in the evening.  Yeah, golly, I can do that.  But on that announcement by the city, I am supposed to pour water down all my drains in anticipation of this sewer line cut tomorrow/Wednesday.  It may not take up a whole lot of time, but if I'm doing that, I might as well do other chores ... like go through my stuff, finally.  Yeah, I need to get in shape, but if I really want to go home -- well, I should just do this, huh?  Might as well salvage one night to do nothing.)

More Doing Stuff

I had plans tomorrow/Saturday.  I would wake up early to watch the EPL downtown, then there is thing called Open Doors where many famous buildings open up their business sides to see how its guts look, and then I need to get a haircut, and then I would go home, have a shower, eat a frozen pizza, make myself a cocktail, and veg out.

But no!  My friend got a ticket to tomorrow/Saturday night's Lynx season opener.  I'm not feeling really good about this squad; they lost half their team, and Napheesa Collier got double ankle surgery and might not be back until June.  (The draft next year will be loaded, so I think they should tank and get into the lottery, but that's just me.)  So I've got a feeling they're going to lose to an ascending Atlanta Dream team.  But hey, this ticket is free, so the pizza can wait!

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.

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.

Bracketology 2026

Man, I used to really love watching the Selection Show.  But then they crammed the fucking Play-In Games down our throats, and then Turner got their shit-ass hands on half the tournament, and then Chuck Barkley and Jet Smith started commentating on it even though they haven't done fuck-all about talking college hoops up till then, and then half of the tournament Games were put on cable, and then they spread out tipoff times so that there's only Game coming down to the wire at a time and if that Game is boring there's no reason to watch, and then CBS stopped whipping around to the best Game happening at that time (and this is the worst decision that was made, and it is fucking unforgivable) ... and now I don't care.  I might just plow the rest of the driveway then.  Or, I might just sleep through the show.  I don't care.

Anyway, as of press time, Bracket Matrix has aggregated the following teams into the following categories.  Teams are listed in order:

The REAL Last Teams In: UCF, Texas A&M, N. C. St., Santa Clara

Play-In Games: Missouri, Miami (OH), SMU, Texas

Actually, They're The LAST Teams Out: San Diego St., Auburn, Oklahoma, Indiana

So ****e cancelled on me today.  Said she has a bad cold.  I believe her.  This is the first time she texted me in advance to say that she can't do it.  There was that weird day where I came over and a man was there telling me she couldn't have company.  And there was another time where I let myself in, stayed for half an hour, thought she wasn't there, left, and then got a call from her, while she was home, saying she just had overslept.  (I had plans that day, so I figured I would just start them early instead of going back to her place.)

What can I do?  She's sweet, I like her, and she is the only person I know who will, uh, let me love her like I want to.  I just don't know the next time I'll be able to see her.  Hopefully soon.

In the meantime, I'm still, unfortunately, horny.  I have thought about asking one of my stripper girlfriends to come over.  But nah; instead, I'll eat or do laundry, and then I will exercise in the evening.  I'll keep it holstered for another time.

Bored Me Napping, Then Shopping For Big-Ticket Items

Braced myself for another long day at work yesterday/Friday ... but it wasn't; it was actually tame, and very tame compared to Thursday ... and yet I have to brace myself for today/Saturday, because my bosses said that today/Saturday could bring in a bunch of work which I don't understand why it couldn't have come yesterday/Friday, and so I'm coming in to work as soon as I wake up.

So my plan of staying in today/Saturday has blown up, but hey, I am getting beaucoup overtime this week, so I'm not too upset.  Still, I wondered what I would do once I got home (on-time, which I did not expect) yesterday/Friday.  I thought I would be awake enough to start on the leftover pizza that I had decided I would eat, but the setting sun convinced me to take a nap first.  If I wasn't tired, I'd pop up early, and work on the pizza before the sports Games I wanted to watch would start at 7.

I crawled into bed before 6.  I woke up a couple minutes past 9.  Didn't expect to do that.  I thought I didn't have time to eat pizza and should pivot to spaghetti, which I planned to eat today/Saturday, but I am getting Pizza Hut to watch for the Super Bowl, so I went through with the pizza.

Yeah, nothing exciting.  So, in my bored state, I was reading up on the latest on how these assholes continue to plague and besiege our state.  One person believes that the announcement earlier this week that they're withdrawing troops was just a way to get people in the state and the national news media off their backs.  Then, the next step is for the remaining pricks to go hard not necessarily after non-Whites but observers that have made their loud objections to what is going on here a state-wide issue.  Intriguing, and I can see that that works, and is working now.

And then I clicked on a link recommending the best gas masks to buy.  If I have to physically commit to this struggle, I'll probably get tear-gassed, so I might as well prepare, right?  I looked through not one but two websites dedicated to the best gas masks, and me being a thoroughly-researching consumer, I think I settled upon one.  And, to make things even more tantalizing, the gas mask is on sale.  (I'm not going to link the websites that reviewed the masks or the company that sells the one that appears to be the top-rated one, just in case they're snooping around here.)  I think maybe I'm sounding too paranoid, but dammit, the thing's on sale.  I'll wait till tomorrow/Sunday; if I remember, and if it's still on sale then, I think I'll buy one.

What I did pull the trigger on is a new robe.  After seeing the two website review gas masks, I went to the website that does nothing but review consumer products (to think gas masks are a consumer product -- what a world we live in), The Wirecutter.  And bored me went down another rabbit hole, to their review of robes.  Now, I have thought about buying a robe for the past, oh, few years.  On the one hand I didn't think I needed one; either I would wrap myself in a towel and just hang out on my bed in the nude, or, if I'm alone in the house, I'd just waltz around naked.  But there is a limbo state where you are not totally dry but still want to putz around in the house without your man bits hanging out -- well, unless you want to open up your robe to thrust out your dick.  I'd reserve that occasion when I want to surprise one of my stripper girlfriends.

Anyway, the main obstacle to buying a robe, believe it or not, is price.  The ones The Wirecutter recommends are routinely in the triple digits.  One hundred dollars for a damn robe?!  I may have seen one for $90, but even that's expensive.  However, when I am bored, I am weak.  And thus I was ripe for the picking when I saw one of the recommended robes being sold for about 30% off if I use a promo code tied in with the website.  At $65 ... well, it's still expensive, but it'll be as cheap as these robes will ever get.  Also, I didn't plan on spending any money tonight, but the company said I could pay through PayPal, and my stupid brain has convinced myself into thinking that is not real money, so I bought it under the illusion that I haven't really paid anything today.

So I threw my sleep pattern off last night, I bought a robe, and tomorrow/Sunday I think I'll be buying a gas mask.  This is what bored me does.  Now, off to bed.

Well, Thanks For Telling Me, Amazon!

No joke, I spent a lot of the last 24 hours thinking about what I would do after work last/Tuesday night.  Combining my principles (or OCD) of trying to use only cash or credit cards a day and not making four trips in my car a day (three is fine, five is fine, four is not because four is an unlucky number), I was figuring out whether I should immediately drive home after work or go out and get groceries.

Beyond the OCD principles above, the thing that factored into my decision was that the measuring cup I bought that I was going to use as my jigger for cocktails.  Amazon said it'd arrive Monday, but it didn't.  If it had, I would have gone grocery shopping yesterday/Tuesday at the discount food store close by to pick up a lemon and a lime.  I would only go there yesterday/Tuesday because on Tuesdays everything is an extra 10% off.  And since I would have gone there, I would have gone to the ATM to pick up cash, probably get gasoline for my car, maybe get some fast food to eat both last/Tuesday night and a future day, and, oh yeah, buy more cocktail items like ginger ale and ginger beer.

But yet, I got to thinking at work.  Why buy a lemon and lime if I don't have the measuring cup?  What I do is slice one of them in half and squeeze them into the cup.  That does two things.  One, I can see how much juice I squeeze, and that dictates which cocktail I would make for myself.  Two, I hear that you leave out lemon and lime juice sitting out because it tastes better about four to ten hours after you squeeze it.  It's a waste buying them without getting the jigger first, especially since this is (I think) the second time Amazon moved the delivery date of the cup.  Amazon said that instead of Monday, it would arrive Friday, and in fact, if it didn't arrive on Friday, I could ask for a refund.

So why am I doing all this stuff yesterday/Tuesday?  I could do it, say, today/Wednesday.  I get out of work early because I'm cutting.  For fast food, I could go to the last Godfather's Pizza in the state, which is going to close on Saturday.  Assuming I leave early enough (and that may be in jeopardy because we have been asked to work overtime because the shipments are still playing catch-up), traffic both on the road and at the restaurant will be easier to deal with.  Meanwhile, I took out a rack of leftover ribs from the freezer to the refrigerator on Sunday.  I see on the Internet that leftovers in the fridge are good for about four days before they should be thrown away.  Why chance it and just eat the ribs yesterday/Tuesday when, by the way, I can watch an NBA Game on NBC?

So just going home it is!  And then, once I get home, I check the mailbox and see a package.  I was able to push my thumb into its middle, so it was the measuring cup.  It was supposed to come last week, then Monday, then Friday, and then for some dumb reason it came yesterday/Tuesday.  I thought I should check Amazon before I started my car at work, just in case, but I still blame Amazon for not getting the precise delivery date right.

But I stuck to my guns and went inside to eat ribs and watch basketball.  My plan on doing everything I thought I would do yesterday/Tuesday today/Wednesday after work is still mostly intact.  Well, besides getting the lemon and the lime, since it's not Tuesday anymore.  And I guess I can make do with the alcohol I have now, so the ginger beer and ale can wait.  I just hope nothing goes wrong, like me falling asleep at the wheel or getting detained on my way home.

This Work Is MINE!!!

I will admit that I'm not completely sorry I did what I did at work yesterday.  But did I make a fool of myself?  Definitely.

This story starts back on Friday.  I was supposed to be in The Fourth Department, but my bosses told me that I should do data entry instead.  So once I keyed as long as I was expected to key, I went back to The Fourth Department.  However, I didn't finish the work.  I stayed till 6:30, but I wanted to see college basketball on the TV, and I thought ten hours was more than enough.  In particular, there were forms that came in on Friday that I didn't get to.  I was told during the workday that that stuff could wait till the next day (Saturday).  So I thought I could come in the next day, yesterday, and finish up that work and, hopefully, get started on the work that came in that day for The Fourth Department.  I was anticipating a lot of stuff was coming in, and I didn't want all that stuff to sit till tomorrow, especially if I was assigned to that position tomorrow.  Besides, the department needed help catching up on work, and while I liked having surprise days off, it was eating into the time off I had built up; working yesterday means I get to take some of that paid time off back.

I thought the mid-South was up and running, seeing as we got monster shipments Thursday and Friday.  However, when I woke up yesterday morning, I was told that morning's shipment was late, so we should come in an hour later than scheduled.  (Also, I have a Facebook friend who said that, beyond, like, half a day, her neighborhood in East Nashville has been without power for eight days.  Maybe they don't have everything back up and running like I thought.)  Two of my co-workers, however, appeared to have either not gotten that text or ignored it, because they were at their desks by the time I got in.  Moreover, one of them was doing the work I left over.

This is not an excuse, but how I felt was: Why are you taking my work from me?!  I know that I have done this in the past, and I know that I'm not strong enough not to feel that way in the future.  This red mist of control descended on me, like it has so many times before, and so I asked her, "What are you doing?"

"I am just finding work.  Do you want this back?" she said.

"Yes, please," I answered.  (These might not be the exact words she and I said, and any tone you might take from these two quotes may not be as sinister, or as courteous, as it actually was.)

I regretted my words as soon as I sat down on my desk.  And any doubt as to how she reacted to my "taking back what's mine" temper tantrum probably was dispelled when she said, "Here's the cart," and shoved the cart into which we put the work in my direction with a force I have never, never seen her give.  She is a steady rock.  And frankly, since my supervisor left for a work-from-home position in the summer, she is the one I have relied on whenever I'm fuzzy about what to do next.  In other words, I don't want to get on her bad side.  And I think I did with that move, and it's probably going to cause a rift in our relationship that will never be repaired.

And the upshot of the hissy fit I threw is that it really didn't matter.  I got Friday's work done, but then my boss and my boss' boss told me to go scan documents all day instead.  We got done before eight hours, so I was able to do (or availed myself with) some Fourth Department stuff to make up the rest of the time.  But yesterday was clearly an all-hands-on-deck day, and while I knew that, honestly, I really didn't want to do that.

I shouldn't have reacted how I did.  But it felt like she was taking my work from me.  Moreover, she was ruining my plans.  "I got this under control, don't mess this up for me," -- that's what I was thinking.  And no, like I said, that's not an excuse.  But shit, what's done is done.  I should get off my butt and start updating my resume.  Because I acted like an ass!

Of Drips And Noisy Furnaces

I need to talk about something else.

This has happened for as long as I can remember, but this personal, multi-day lockdown has put me alone with the appliances in this house -- in particular, how creaky they sound.  For example, every single sink and toilet seems to drip.  Right now, I'm bothered whenever I flush the upstairs toilet because it always drips loud enough that I could hear it from my bedroom.  That's been going on for years, so that means that at some point, it'll, I don't know, warp the wall or floor or ceiling or something.  I'm by myself, plus it's cold outside, plus we're living under fascist rule right now, so bad luck will almost demand that the shit hit the fan when it comes to this bad drip-drip-drip.

As much as I need water, I need heat more right now, and my furnace rattles as it's working.  Sometimes it rattles when it starts up, sometimes it sounds alright until the middle of its cycle.  But it is nerve-racking to hear that rattle because it makes me feel like the furnace is struggling, and it's about to give out.  And obviously, I can't have it give out.

Things are fine, or at least tolerable, on both fronts.  But I just saw the website; they are concentrating on this neighborhood today.  Don't know why.  I was hoping I could dash out, grab some food, then come home and enjoy the football Games -- you know, live my life.  But these motherfuckers are depriving me of that simple joy.  Do I stay home, or do I go for it?  Well, in the meantime, I am hoping that there isn't a catastrophic water leak or furnace breakdown.

Addendum To: On Money -- When I Spend It And When I Complain About Spending It

OK, so this is what I did on Sunday.

I was still feeling the pull of the Megamall.  Moreover, I was feeling the pull of Grand Casino Arena, which was staging both Semifinals of the World Juniors.  I stay pretty late after Vikings Games to make sure the traffic thins out, but I could move it up and still leave without getting stuck.  So I formulated a plan to go down to the Mall Of America, buy some stuff at the pop-up store, eat at Popeye's (I had this digital coupon of three tenders for a buck), then drive to downtown St. Paul.  If I could find parking close enough to the arena (parking meters aren't enforced in St. Paul on Sundays, so yay for me), I would park, buy a ticket, then see the second Semi at 7:30.

That last bit was buoyed in part by the prices I saw at scalper sites.  I checked after Friday night's Quarterfinals, which included the United States losing to Finland in Overtime.  I thought the prices would crater because the host U. S. was no longer in it, but prices were too high for me to entertain.  In fact, I think StubHub told me there were no tickets to sell.  But I checked again Saturday, and not only were there many tickets, prices were falling like a stone.  SeatGeek's cheapest ticket Friday night was $93; it became about $50 Saturday, and while at work, I checked again and it fell to $39.  That's it, man; even though I was tired as hell and I would be driving all around the Twin Cities, I decided to do all this.

Well, first of all, me eating so much after the Game that I had to shit really bad threw the Popeye's deal out the window.  I felt this push out of my asshole while I was driving down to MOA, and if you know that feeling, it feels like you're about to fucking shit your pants so bad everyone will see and point at you and laugh.  Scariest feeling in the world, am I right?

But I made it to the public men's room next to the doors at MOA, aka the last place I would want to evacuate my bowels, but of course, I had no choice.  This diarrhea attack made me second-guess if I should even try and go to the Game.  Good thing, then, that I didn't plan on buying a ticket unless I found a space to park in St. Paul.

Systems back to normal, I went to the pop-up.  That orange quarter-zip that probably was going to be the thing I buy?  Well, it went from one or two of those to six or seven.  Unfortunately, the only sizes available were small and extra-large.  This was something I saw with several popular items while I was browsing for World Juniors clothing.  I couldn't buy that, and nothing else there interested me.  So I didn't buy anything there, like I thought I would.  Yeah, it was kind of a waste driving down there.  But I had to know.

Didn't feel the urge to crap after that excretory meltdown when I cashed in the winning Powerball tickets I bought (oh yeah, I did that, too) on my way out to the car, so I felt good going to the arena.  And maybe I shouldn't be surprised considering the half-empty crowds at Mariucci Arena for group and Quarterfinal Games, but I found a spot easy-peasy.  And so I turned off the car, leaned my seat back, and looked at SeatGeek and StubHub for a ticket to that 7:30 Game.  And I was surprised, and disappointed, that somehow prices for that Game went back up.  It can't be demand; these scalper sites are running fucking algorithms to maximize prices.  Makes me so goddamn frustrated.  But hey, I got there, and I wanted to go, so I bought a ticket for Canada-Czechia for, hrmph, $50.

By the way, great Game.  Back and forth, but the Czechs got the upset (even though this is the third straight year the country eliminated the Canadians), 6-4.  (That Semifinal, by the way, was delayed from its scheduled start because the first Semi went past Overtime into a Shootout, where Sweden slipped past Finland, 4-3.)  I'm glad I went, and this is the World Juniors, so maybe I shouldn't bitch so much over the price of the ticket.  Anyway, I had plenty of time to check out the merchandise tables at the "Gicka."  You remember my obsession/fear about "exclusivity," buying items that I could only find at Mariucci or the pop-up store at the Mall Of America?  Well, that OCD blew up in my face.  That hoodie with the huge 2026 IIHF World Juniors logo right on the front that I bought at Mariucci?  Saw it there.  And I also saw the Paul Bunyan & Babe t-shirts I also bought at Mariucci, as well as the first pair of t-shirts I bought, the ones that had the flags on the hockey blades on the front I bought at the pop-up.  Oh, and the pin, too.

So, when it comes to buying things that appeared to be at only one place, I got the scarf that I bought down at MOA and the winter hat with the logo on a plate stitched on it at Mariucci.  All the other stuff I bought I could've bought at any of the three places.  And the scarf and hat, for all I know, were being sold at the other two places before they sold out.  I'll rest in the peace of my ignorance.  But I think I could've been more judicious about what I would've bought if I could've went to Grand Casino Arena for that Sunday group stage Game if not for the snowstorm that blew in that day.  I think I would've gone up to the merch tables, realize that most if not all the items were the same as that at Mariucci, realize that some of the things I saw down at the Megamall I didn't see there (and vice versa), and purchased accordingly.  But now I have a lot of things that, right now, I'm not cool with (see Title of blog post).

But hey, it was the World Juniors!

And after lunch today My Father told me to clear the driveway of snow.  I don't know if we even got half an inch.  But I cleared it anyway, even though I really, really wanted to not even step foot outside to begin the New Year.

Fuck what I said before.  I can't wait for them to leave.

Father And I Got Along Like Two Peas In A Pod!

You know when I said I didn't think Father really meant it when he said he wanted to spend the holidays with me here at home?  Well. ...

I woke up late in the morning to see flakes fly outside.  I've seen and driven through worse, but I didn't want to chance a risky drive to St. Paul just to see a hockey Game, especially since it was supposed to get worse.  I told Father, who noted the snow outside, that I wasn't going, so he fixed me up a sandwich and fruit to eat for lunch.

Later, for dinner, I convinced my parents that since I bought a couple extra bottles of sparkling apple juice, this would be a good occasion for us to break out the apple-cranberry bottle in the fridge.  So, even though it wasn't Christmas or New Year's, we got to celebrate a "big dinner" (and it was big -- nice pork and salad ... they went out for dinner last/Sunday night).

Right after that, Father wanted to clear the driveway.  I thought it better to wait, but he went out and prepared a pair of galoshes for me, so I went out too.  I've obviously plowed a driveway by myself before, and once you get that machine going, you're unstoppable.  But I've got to say that it was really, really nice to have My Father help with shoveling all the small parts of the driveway, like the walkway up to the stoop and right next to the cars.  He even helped scrape all the ice and snow off of my windshield.  With both of us doing it, that chore went by even faster.

And finally, after I got back in from plowing, I decided to finally wash the bedsheet, something I've wanted to do for a week now.  When I grabbed it from the dryer, Father saw me and said, "Aw, I could've washed it for you tomorrow."  "Nah, that's OK," I said, "but thank you!"

It was a nice, friendly conversation between father and son.  In fact, Sunday was a beautiful and ... well, loving day between us.  You know, for all my misgiving about my parents -- all the fake sentiments, the lies, the passive-aggressiveness, the fighting -- I have fantastic days like this with them when we're the family we should be and I forgive all that other crap.  My misgivings and grudges totally melt away.

You know, right now, I actually believe My Father wants to spend the holidays here with me.  And I want to feel this feeling more often.

Why Doesn't My Sister Just Fuckin' Have My Car, Huh?!

So my sister has been using my car.  It's small and short and thus manageable, unlike the unwieldy and old minivan my parents use.  That van is a warhorse, but it's hard to account for the size, and when I pull out of parking spaces, I'm always fearful that I'll hit something because it's so big.

Well, my sis has been using my car a lot, leaving me to use the minivan, mainly to go to and from work.  She now uses my car to ferry Mother around for physical therapy.  But before she has been using it for frivolous things, like seeing childhood friends and going shopping.  And it looks as though she is getting a little bolder when it comes to requesting it.  Last week she needed it Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, and I figured on Wednesday night that if she needed to use the car to take Mother to PT on Friday, I might as well use the minivan on Thursday as well as Friday.  I transfer the stuff I think I need to take to work with me -- sunglasses, sunvisors, maybe the tire pressure gauge -- into the minivan.  It doesn't make sense to me to use my car for just one day because I would have to shlep all that from the minivan back into my car, and then do the reverse so my sister and Mother could use it on Friday.

It's gotten more ridiculous this week.  Mother has physical therapy Tuesday and Thursday.  Sister said on Saturday that she wanted to use my car on Friday to see my brother and niece.  Finally, last/Sunday night she told me that her friend wants to see her for dinner, an early dinner, on Wednesday.  Well, shit.  If I need to take the minivan from Tuesday to Friday, I might as well fucking take the minivan today/Monday too, right?  So, for this week, it feels as if I own the minivan and my sister owns what used to be my car.  I should probably transfer the title to her since she's using it so goddamn much.

Fuckin' Christ, I think I transferred all my stuff from the van into the car, too.  I'll have to wake up early to dump all that shit back into the van.  Fuck me.  Oh yeah: I am annoyed, and my sister knows it, and she likes that I'm annoyed.  Pffft.