Welp, playtime is over.  Mother told me last/Monday night they're coming home in a few weeks.

It was going to happen.  But it's never enough time.

And I'm stuck with all my stuff in the house.  I'm glad I have the time I think I have, but there's so much to go through throw back in storage ... will it be enough?

(sigh, depression)

I Tried To Wash My Ballcap Last Night ...

... and it didn't go well.  It was time I tried again, so I looked it up on YouTube and online, and I followed the instructions, which told me that I needed to get a stain spray and, because I needed to make sure it would retain its shape while drying, I decided to also buy one of those ballcap holders that's supposed to hold its shape when you put it in the washing machine.  I had one of those holders once when I was in college and it didn't work; somehow, the clasps holding the top and bottom parts together pulled open, so my cap got washed alongside all the other loose pieces of clothing and it got frayed on parts of it.

Anyway, because trying to wash it using the machine didn't work all those years ago, I didn't wash them at all.  But all my hats were getting really dirty, so that's why I tried again -- and, ironically enough, I started with the ballcap that got torn up.  If I don't know what I'm doing, might as well use my first try on my most beat-up hat.  So I washed it first, then put that stain remover all over it, brushed it into all the dirty and sweaty spots (oh, I also bought a some laundry brush to do that), then soaked it in water filled with detergent and dish soap for about 20 minutes.  I then rinsed it, put it into the holder, and it's drying, slowly, in the laundry room right now.

And to be honest, I don't see a change.  I didn't see my ballcap brighten or look cleaner after I grabbed it from the bucket, the water in the bucket in which I submerged my hat didn't look dirtier, and just now, before I left for chores, it still looks as dirty as ever.  Great.  Maybe I needed to dunk it for, like, a day, or maybe that cap has seen better days.  I just thought that what I did was going to do something and, uh, it looks like it didn't.  Might as well try again, since I bought three things for this task, but seeing as how this first try didn't do anything, it's demoralizing.

And The Goddamn Motherfucking Pipe Is Leaking Again

So I blog posted about a leak in a pipe that happened the motherfucking day after my parents left town.  I don't know if I blog posted this, but a day or two later (I think) I tightened it up to the point where it didn't leak.  What a relief.  Heck, I felt like a man who could hold it down.

It was so "good" that I didn't bother looking at the plastic ice cream bucket below the clamp where the leak was for weeks.  Why?  If there is no reason to worry, I am free, you know?  Well, yesterday/Sunday I thought it was time to check, just in case, and goddammit, there was a small collection of water.  The bucket wasn't overflowing, thank Buddha, but if I had left it till, oh, Thanksgiving, maybe.

So I dumped out the water and looked at the clamp, and goddammit, the clamp is now dripping water.  All I could do -- all I want to do right now -- is tighten the screw some more.  My paranoid ass has checked it several times since, and it looks as though it is still dripping, but by an amount that appears livable ... maybe.  Shit, man, I don't know if homeowners just live with pipe leaks like this.  Besides, there was no leak for more than nine months.  I want that, not dealing with this bullshit.  And I'm afraid that if I try to tighten it more, I'll break the clamp and water would be shooting out from everywhere.

Why can't I have pipes that just don't leak?  Is that fucking too much to ask?

I'm so scared.

RIP, Psychologist

So I attended the funeral of my therapist yesterday/Friday afternoon.

It was raining all day -- not the ideal weather conditions to travel to a church and then attend the post-funeral reception, but it was the appropriate mood.  I didn't know anyone there except his secretary, but I was allowed to just stand and pace and look around in the church and wait for the ceremony to begin.

Nice-looking church.  Churches are always nice looking.  I'm not Catholic, but some of the psalms and beats and call-and-responses were actually familiar to me.  Then I remembered that I attended the funeral of my sister's best friend's mother back in December.  She too was Catholic, so I remembered what I had seen yesterday from back in December.  And then it dawned on me that I've been to two funerals within the past 12 months, and that I may be going to a lot more as I get older.

I will never know what to say, or how to behave, at a celebration of life memorial.  I mean, what can you say?

I saw the family march out in the steady rain to bury him.  It was not my place to accompany them, so I drove to his son's townhouse for the reception, then waited about a half-hour to make sure I saw people park and go to what I hoped was the right address.  (In the meantime I fell asleep, or at least tried to; a couple of times, as I was about to doze off, I could feel my Adam's apple press up against my collar and tie, and I felt this fear that I was drowning shoot up inside me, and I woke up again.  Wearing a collar and tie will always feel like I'm choking myself.)

Feels tacky to say this, but I will: The son has a nice place.  For a townhome whose driveway they split with another family, it's really spacious.  The food was decked out in what looked like a small indoor racquetball court.  I could totally see a family live here.  Heck, with the downstairs wet bar, I could see myself living here, even though it might be a big too spacious for just myself.  There, I did what a person who was not the deceased's immediate circle would do: Eat and keep to myself.  Eventually the daughter-in-law introduced myself, and that was nice to not feel like a total stranger.  I wanted to shake hands with her husband, the son, but on my way out (I didn't want to stay too long) I did what I thought was the absolutely necessary thing to do and give my condolences to my therapist's wife, the widow.  I remember a couple times calling him  where she picked up and handed the phone to him.  She said she knows who I was and remembers him raving about me.  I can't imagine being one of the people he remembers so fondly, but that's nice to know.

---

Seeing a man so loved made me tear up a little at the church.  It is jarring to see his two sons break down as they memorialized him.  And it is sad to watch, but it's a testament that he was so loved and valued, and what more can you want from a life?  I only know him from our relationship, but it was at the church where I saw how many friends he made, and how many lives he touched.  He was a hell of a guy who did a whole bunch of nice things, for his family and his professional community.  And his patients too, like me.

I have friends, but I don't confide in them like I did with my psychotherapist.  There are things I've told him I haven't told my family.  It's mostly my fears and sexual urges, and frankly, those are things I am not completely certain I can tell my friends, and definitely not my family.  (Sidetrack: Those things, especially my sexual urges, I would totally tell my stripper girlfriends.  But nearly all of them do not seem to want that level of emotional intimacy I am ready to give them at the drop of a hat.  That favoritism is something I think I told my shrink.)  And through all my rants and paranoia and erotic fantasies and violent ideations, for the 10-5 years I had known him, he just ... listened.  And that's what I miss about him the most.  He was a sounding board, someone I could not only talk to but talk at, and he just listened to me without judgement.  That isn't a healthy relationship, but that is definitely what my damaged, damned soul needed, to be listened to without judgement.  OK, so his advice the past several times we spoke over the phone were strange and not productive.  But that doesn't take away the fact that over the years he was someone I could talk to, and he helped, and tried to help, me when I needed someone to speak to in private.  I don't know if I can find another one like him again.

RIP, sir.

Got a call a few hours ago that my psychotherapist, whom I had seen for upwards of a decade, is in hospice.  The Parkinson's finally got to him, goddammit.  His secretary called me; she said his wife told her he has a few days at most, and he will not be taking visitors.  But she will do her best to call me again when, well, it happens.  I hope I will be able to go to his memorial service.

I feel bad I have been going on with my life and temporarily forgetting what is happening to him in the hours since I heard the news.  Life -- it never ends well.

RIP, Smarter Than Staci

This happened about a month ago, and I feel bad I haven't blog posted about it till now.  It keeps slipping my mind, but I haven't given this enough respect, because it truly was an important part of my workday.

So when I started working back there, and I began to stay till 4:30, one of my former co-workers turned me on to KS95's "Smarter Than Staci," a long-time trivia segment of Staci & Hutch, which was the afternoon drivetime show on that radio station.  My ex-co-worker and a few of the others also working in the back always dropped what they were doing to play.  It consisted of two rounds of five questions usually read by Hutch.  The first round was played by a caller; the second usually by Staci or, if she wasn't available, another KS95 personality.  In the segment before, the answer to the first question is given.  Up until the end, the caller was able to ask for a replacement question if they didn't know the answer to one of the questions; Staci and/or the KS95 personality playing in the second round didn't get those privileges.  And even with those twin advantages, a lot of the times Staci won/the caller lost.

Not to toot my own horn, but I got enough of the trivia questions right that I cultivated a reputation for being, um, smart.  (Booksmart, yes, but when the question was about, like, reality show TV, I was completely useless.)  Whenever we got a question right, we would bump fists.  A good day was when we got all the questions right; I called it "running the table."  (Well, I guess everyone who knows the phrase would call it "running the table.")  And when we did not do well -- honestly, I was the one answering most of the questions, right or wrong -- the others picked me up and encouraged me.

It was a fun way to end the day, or, if I was working late, a late afternoon break that was fun.  I always looked forward to it and, frankly, to see if I could flex my intellectual superiority.  And it was a chance to at least talk for a bit with my co-workers, something I don't always do, especially when I'm busy.  "Smarter Than Staci" became a focal point, that thing you always do at work.

Unfortunately, Staci & Hutch was cancelled, and Staci and Hutch were fired from KS95, a month ago.  (I think the radio station has developed a reputation for just outright cutting personalities from their airwaves without warning -- that's not good for KS95.)  I don't know what replaced it -- honestly, I didn't listen to the afternoon drive show beyond trivia -- but I doubt whoever replaced them was going to continue doing trivia at 4:30.  And so, once we learned that that brief respite in the day was done and gone, I haven't listened to the radio we all used to listen to the questions since.  And with that, a little rosy piece of my workday went away.

Oh, well.  At least I don't feel compelled to drop everything and listen to the radio now.  I don't even feel compelled to stick around past 4:30 if I get my work done by then.  Nah, that's just coping; I still feel sad about "Smarter Than Staci" not being a thing anymore.

I am too busy right now to talk to my folks about bills, but one of those bills, which came Saturday, is for our trash.  Mother suspended service while they were away.  I do generate trash, but not enough whereby something needs to be picked up every week.  Like I've said here, if I do have trash to throw away, I just take it to a gas station.

Anyway, this trash bill, to me, makes me think that Mother has asked for it again.  Which means they're coming home, and soon.  Goddammit.

Three Things From Yesterday

All I wanted to do is wish Father and Happy Father's Day yesterday.  And sure, it's innocuous, but dammit, he reminded me that they plan on coming home some time.  When?  Who knows.  But he launched into this story where he was told by some guy who called him that there was a hailstorm here, which there was, and do you want us to check the house for any damage?  These shady, fly-by-night shakedown jobs always are on the make, promising to replace the roof quickly and for cheap.  Not to say that the roof on our house doesn't need at least a once-over.  But if it is, I'd rather go to a reputable company and not some half-ass dimwit who are just cold-calling people in the hopes of suckering them out of their money later.  Anyway, they're coming home, and that day is getting closer, and I am not ready for that.

---

On a brighter note, all day yesterday/Sunday I hung out in downtown Minneapolis.  MNUFC and Brit's Pub held a joint soccer celebration where, for free, you can watch World Cup Matches.  During the last Game of the quadruple-header, Egypt-New Zealand, I looked up from where I was at the sunken Peavey Plaza.  There were strangers of all countries and background watching the Match from a huge TV screen.  Meanwhile, the setting sun managed to cast its rays on the tall buildings downtown.  And I felt happy and safe.  Downtown Minneapolis being dangerous is absolute bullshit.  What I experienced downtown yesterday?  That's the real downtown, and don't let any MAGAt make you believe otherwise.

---

Even though Michael Boxall, who's MNUFC's longtime Centerback, was playing for New Zealand, Egypt fans overwhelmed Peavey Plaza.  I swear there were about four dozen Egyptians and Egypt Fans at the Game-watching party, and that is four dozen more Egyptians and Egypt fans than I believed live here.  Oh, and there are some fine-ass Egyptian chicks, I tell you what. ...

Dealing With Too Much E-Mail

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hooters Ain't The Only One

I swear there has been a rash of restaurant closings this year that I lament.  They don't hurt as much as Hooters, of course.  And honestly, I have been trying to come up with a list, but can't think of too many.  I've already talked about the Taco Bell that was near me.  (By the way, nothing has gone in in its place yet.  Taco Bell disappeared, furnishings and signage and all, in a day, but that place has remained empty for weeks now.  The hell?)

The one that comes to mind right now is the local Subway.  When I was in high school, the place where it was, located at a strip mall not too far away from the high school, was the place to be, sad as it might seem now.  But it was dependable and good enough, and so that's where we all went (and for me, to get those stamps you lick and stick on those cards in order to get a free sub).

What the owners of that place more than several years ago was move to an even bigger place across the street.  That's investment, and I love that.  It was clean, and I was treated well every time I went there.  Unfortunately, it was empty too much of the time.  I wanted to go there more often, but there are so many other places to eat out, both in the fast food and the fancy lanes.  I tried to support them whenever I had the urge to, but it wasn't enough.  A few weeks ago, when I drove by during the day, I didn't see their "OPEN" light on and there was no car outside.  And maybe last week, all the Subway signage was taken down.  I feel sad because it feels as though the owner took a risk based on previous success, but whether it was the bigger size of the restaurant, the new location, something else, or all of the above, it, well, backfired.

And even though it's not my responsibility because I can't eat out every single day or else I'll go broke, I worry about the places I eat out at going under.  There's that speakeasy I haven't been to since March Madness.  It's expensive to go there, but I still want it to be around when I want to go there.  And there's a mom-and-pop panaderia close by me.  Their pastries and croissants and baked goods are fantastic, and the layout looks lush and wonderful, and I barely see anyone whenever I go there.  I hate to come across it one day and see it gone.  But again, I'm not made out of money.  What can I do?

I blame Trump.  Seriously, with all the shit he's done in order to line his pockets, I think it's sensible to blame his corrupt ass.

The Hottest Babe In The Hooters Calendar: April 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I went to the dentist yesterday/Tuesday.  And goddammit, I have another cavity for which I need to go in again.  Well, it looks like all those days I was frozen in terror when this corrupt and installed Republican government took over our city, and all those times I got home from work so tired, caused me to not feel like brushing my teeth ... nah, who am I kidding, I just didn't floss and brush my teeth as often as I should have.  I definitely will get back into the habit ... nah, who am I kidding, I'll be as half-ass about it as I've always been.  I know I should do it daily (actually they recommend twice daily), but teeth brushing has never been something I do as a routine.  As with other matters of hygiene, for that matter.

Expenses Without Receipt

Starting from Thursday, April 9:

• Well, we should really start on Easter, aka Sunday, April 5, when I went out to the Heights to finally see Psycho.  Man, that shower scene is killer.  Ticket, popcorn, pop and tip: $26.
• Later that evening *****y whacked me off.  I wanted to see her on Easter because she is a regular churchgoer and I find it somewhat ironic that she goes to church and then later that day she gives me an HJ for money, specifically: $150.
• Friday, April 3: I didn't expect to spend money, but Father wanted Powerball tickets, so out I went.  And because I have to stick to my rule of spending cash or using credit cards on a least two things in a day, I decided that I wasn't going to have veggie chips and veggie dip for dinner and instead try a mom-and-pop Latin American restaurant.  There are a few places around here that are recommended.  But they were closed by the time I went out -- I stayed to listen to the end of the South Carolina-UConn women's college basketball Semifinal and in particular Geno Auriemma's meltdown at Dawn Staley -- so I went to a place that was open but fell just below 4 1/2 stars on Google Maps: Que Taco.  Not bad.  I got their birria tacos, and they are the biggest tacos I've seen around the area yet.  Wanted to use the bathroom, but they cordoned that part of the restaurant off with chairs and a mop wringer bucket.  Might go there again if only because it's open when I want to nightcrawl.  I have the receipt (ETA at 1:19 p.m. on May 24, 2026 that I may have had the receipt, but it looks like I threw it away, so either I charged this to my credit card or I just fucked up and didn't write down the amount I paid for it, in which case, uh, oh, well, I hate myself), so this EWR is for just the tip: $2.
• Now we go back to Sunday, March 29, where I laid into ****e.  She was unstable on this day, sadly.  She called me while I was still driving to her place asking me where the hell I am.  Her cock-sucking wasn't as on point as it has been in the past.  And after we got done fucking and I laid in bed all tuckered out, she took my underwear and socks and placed them in a pile next to what what was either clothes she was going to launder or trash she was going to throw away.  I was glad I was getting dressed before she did anything to it.  But when I grabbed my boxers, I saw that they were right above a wad of either wet toilet paper or paper towels either she cleaned up the bathroom with or I used to wipe up all my cum.  There was a huge wet spot on the boxers, and I needed to wear them because I was going to a brewery afterward.  I asked ****e if I could use a hair dryer, and that did the trick.  But this is the first time something like this happened.  Whatever; I'm thinking of seeing her again next weekend.  Price: $120.
• So this brewery is doing this thing where I could bring in a Minnesota United jersey and they would remove the Target logo in the front and replace it with the Rebel Loon, a symbol of the Twin Cities' resilience and defiance in the wake of this Republican government's oppression earlier in the year.  I waited and had an early dinner and beer while they were hacking my replica Loons jersey.  But for some reason I couldn't use my card to pay for this service.  Thankfully I had enough cash on me to do it: $30.
• Back further to Monday, March 23, the date of my alma mater getting their butts handed to them by South Carolina.  Our Game-watching bar charges extra when you pay by credit card, so I now pay by cash as often as I can, and I did so on this night.  With tip: $40.
• Sunday the 22nd was the last day Hotters at The Mall Of America was open.  Sad, sad day.  Glad I got there when I did; they got so busy, and they got so cleaned out, that they closed their doors at 6 even though they usually close on Sundays at 10, I think.  Oh, and when I asked if there was any food available, my Hooters girl said they still had burger patties.  Not burger buns, but patties.  And shit, I almost ordered one.  But I settled on my Big Daddy-size Bud Light and the two shirts they still had on sale.  Didn't think I wanted such memorabilia, but when one shirt was only five bucks and another server came around saying the other shirt, really a cancer-themed crop top, was only a buck, well, I had to jump at the chance.  My last total I spent at the Megamall MOA, with tip: $40.
• And on my way out I think I saw a Girl Scout Cookies stand.  That's where I bought the Lemonades.  Glad it was a Girl Scout who did the sale and not her mom; these kids are supposed to learn how to sell and do business, right?  Paid: $6.
• Back to Saturday, March 14 ... a fellow alumni's kid is in this covers rock band.  The band is really good, and I saw on Facebook that they were playing at a brewpub close to me.  I stayed there until the snowstorm everyone was dreading started to look really bad.  But before I left I left tips for the young whippersnappers: $4.
• Shit, man, now we're really going back ... to Sunday, February 22, in fact, when I went to the Heights for the first time since I think the theater got new owners.  I went to see Battleship Potemkin, a silent film classic I have wanted to see for a long time.  It was accompanied by a solo musician who played the piano.  What I wasn't expecting was her to use a snare drum and a crash cymbal.  I have seen a silent film once or twice with a full band, but never have I heard percussion used -- but it was a very, very welcomed new experience.  Paid for the ticket with my credit card, so this total is for the popcorn, pop, and tipping the concession stand: $13.
• On Saturday the 21st I got a shave from the local barber school.  The person shaving me acted like he didn't give a shit, so I didn't give much of a tip.  See, this is why I'm willing to pay five times as much to get my face shaved.  Or, maybe I should just do it myself again.  With tip: $12.
• For Valentine's Day I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Version) to see my ATF.  Where else would I go on February 14?  So glad she was there working; she had said she didn't know if she was going to take the day off.  Cover, tips, drinks from me and ******a and 20 table dances from her ... well, I see that I didn't write the total amount down after I left the club, so I'm just going to pull an amount out of my ass and say that I spent: $230.
• Sunday, February 8: Went to Grandpa Joe's (formerly Blue Sun Soda Shop) to get some premium ginger beer and ginger ale for the cocktails I wanted to make.  I also grabbed a bottle of RC and a bottle of root beer from some company.  Six bottles that cost: $14.33.
• I think later that day, *****y came over to wank me: $150.
• Finally, on Sunday, February 1, ******e came over to wank me: $120.

Yes, I keep saying this: I need to do these more frequently.  Done through April 9.

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

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

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

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

RIP, Taco Bell Near Me

So two weeks ago, after seeing my alma mater fall to South Carolina in the NCAA Women's Basketball Tournament, I drove home.  Sometimes I take a path home that takes me past the closest gas station to my home.  Can't complain about the gas station.  It has a Taco Bell there that I go to all the time.

Well, had.  I think it was the weekend where I actually went to this gas station because I wanted to get some Taco Bell.  And it shocked the shit out of me when I saw one of those industrial-sized dumpsters.  I then noticed that all the Taco Bell signage is gone, completely.

This was coming.  The gas station was a Holiday, but several years ago (I don't know exactly how many), it was sold to Casey's Retail Company, so the Holiday became a Casey's.  They are well known for making and selling their own food under their own Casey's brand.  But even after the changeover and makeover, the Taco Bell was still operating in the left half of the building housing the now Casey's.

I heard the story of how this happened shortly after the changeover when I grabbed some Taco Bell by eavesdropping on a conversation between a Taco Bell worker and a customer who may have been his or her friend.  Taco Bell had a lease for this location.  When Holiday Stationstores or Couche-Tard, the company that acquired Holiday Stationstores, sold this particular gas station to Casey's, they did so on the condition that Taco Bell would be able to stay through the life of its lease.  The Taco Bell employee did not know how long that lease lasted, however.  Well, I guess that lease ran out two weeks ago.

This closing seemed fast.  I got home late that Monday, and Taco Bell drive-thrus are usually open late every night.  So I want to think that late Monday night (technically Tuesday morning) was the very last day they were open.  Casey's then shut everything down and cleaned out the entire Taco Bell (including appliances and tables -- seriously, I went into the gas station yesterday/Sunday and there's absolutely nothing there).  I absolutely marvel at how fast they emptied the place of any and all Taco Bell life.  But they can also completely replace that space with Casey's restaurant just as fast, at least I am convinced they could, and it's been completely empty for two weeks.

Is there something wrong?  I would think that Casey's was biding its time before the lease ended so they could then sweep in, clean house, and put up their own signage and equipment.  So, where are the tables and chairs -- and breakfast pizza Casey's is known for?  In the meantime, I am going to miss this Taco Bell.  It is the closest fast food place to me, so I relied on it for dinner and lunch many, many times over the years.  And now it's gone, just like many other places I believed would continue to exist.

Rest In Peace, TB.

NO, NOT HOOTERS!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

RIP, Fast Food Points

So once in a while I go through all my fast food apps, for which I have a lot.  I need to check on these from time to time.  Sometimes I do it just to look at any new foods or deals they may have.  Sometimes I do it as a way of climbing out of the rabbit hole I dive into while doomscrolling while not being able to pry my eyes away from my cellphone.  And sometimes I check the number of points I have on each application to make sure I haven't lost them.

A couple weeks ago (I think), I got an offer for free food from Chipotle.  Chipotle sends those offers from time to time.  This time around I got, I think, free guacamole.  I haven't had them in a while, so I ordered online and ate the quesadilla there; I went home to eat the chips and guac.  Later that night, I went to the Chipotle app to check that the points were there.  They were, but all the points I accumulated up to that point were gone.  At that point I had to look through all my other applications because I apparently didn't take that good of a look into them.  And I saw that I lost all my points at Popeyes, another fast food place I like.

Bummed, I am.  But I don't think there's anything I can do about them.  Obviously, if my parents scooted on out of here in the late summer/early fall like they usually do, I would have eaten at Chipotle and Popeyes before whatever six-month period or so that made my points expire, but they stuck around till after the New Year, and that is what probably killed off my points.

I have noted in the past (although I may not have discussed this on Wailing And Failing) that fast food chains have differing policies when it comes to when your points expire.  Some places say that you lose your points six months after you get those points.  Other places say that you lose all your points if there has been no activity (and that includes using points as well as accruing them) after a certain period.  I like the former scenario because if you do lapse, you only lose those points.  However, with the latter scenario, as long as you do something with that restaurant, you can keep points even if you earned them more than six months ago.  Of course, the best thing is for those points to never expire, but I don't think any of the applications I have are that generous.

While the permanent loss of what I spent so much to gain is awful, I have to admit there is a certain bit of ... freedom I feel.  Yes, circumstances forced me to fail, so to speak.  But that also means that I no longer feel obligated to go to Chipotle or Popeyes just to keep the points that I have ... er, had.  In fact, even though I like eating at both places, because I am back to zero with both of them, I don't know if I want to go back because I don't want to start getting points again with either place.  I've been scarred by how bad I feel losing them, you see.  Well, I did get points at Chipotle, but that was after I realized I lost all the points I gained before my order.  I might let those points die on the vine.

Maybe the lesson is, eat at every fast food restaurant you have an app for at least once every six months.

Oh, I Went Back To Work On Thursday

My luck finally ran out, sadly.  Thursday morning, as I was checking my phone after my alarm went off, my boss told me a shipment was in and that we had to go in.  And it looked like the courier was well on its way to getting things up and running; Thursday we got three times the number of forms we usually get, which makes me think that got back on track on Thursday.

On Thursday I worked overtime to get all the stuff I think I needed to get done done.  Stayed longer yesterday/Friday because I was pulled from my work in The Fourth Department to do data entry.  That meant some of the stuff I could have done yesterday/Friday got pushed to today/Saturday.  And yes, I am coming in on a Saturday to work -- partly to help the department catch up, partly to take back all the paid time off I gave because I didn't work Monday through Wednesday.  I am suddenly getting close to going under with that.  I think I can actually "go into debt" and borrow up to 40 hours of paid time off in advance, but I would rather save that up for a time I need it, like a couple days in February and March.

Still, like I said, I was kind of sad Thursday morning when I didn't get the message that I could stay home.  I like not working.  It reminds me of the fallow periods inbetween temp jobs, where I was actually happy.  But since such happiness always ends, and because that feeling of everything crashing down is so hard for me, I would rather not enjoy happiness.  I want my vacations permanent, not temporary.

And Another Snow Day!!!

This is more than ridiculous; this is fucking absurd.  Either this is one fucking monstrous snowstorm or Southerners really don't know how to deal with snow and ice, because when I woke up and checked my texts, my boss said there wasn't a shipment again this morning.  Third day in a row.  We've never had two days of no work, let alone three.  So, another snow day!!!

Not to complain too much, but you really can't enjoy a surprise day off if you have to wake up assuming you don't have the day off.  Compounding that annoyance is that today, because I was scheduled to go in and cut packages open, I had to wake up early.  Then, once I saw that someone was going to go in to work and do everything for the rest of us, I tried to go back to sleep but couldn't.  (This despite having only, at most, 90 minutes of shuteye overnight.)

Unlike yesterday, today I had planned on going out: There's a volunteer event my financial planner is putting on very close to my house.  And since he's treating everyone to dinner afterward, hell yeah, I'm going.  And since I am taking the car out today, I might as well go to the Walker today and use that offer to see the museum for free after buying a ticket to the Arrows.  I had planned on going Saturday, but the chances are now very good that I will be working that day, so I switched plans and went just today.

You know, I know I'm not enjoying these surprise days off as much as I should because one day, this will all be over and we will have to go back to work.  Something good will be taken from me, and anticipating that will happen makes me very, very sad.  But that day wasn't today.  And, to be fair, I really thought that it would be yesterday and it wasn't.  So I'm riding on free money.

The one thing I'm lacking right now is sleep.  I have to end this blog post now in order to try and get a nap in before I go to this volunteer event.

Goddamn, they murdered another one.  They don't care.  He was no threat, but they say he was a threat, and because we have some stupid, stupid people living in this country, they're going to get away with it.

I'm even more scared now.  Truth doesn't matter anymore.  It's not that people aren't hearing past the lies.  There is a significant population in America, in my humble opinion, that don't care about facts.  They will believe any bullshit that comes out of any motherfucker from this installed administration because they want to hear what they are hearing.

I have to ask again: How is non-violence going to get us out of this?