No Foresight When It Comes To Toilet Paper

So I ran out of toilet paper just now, and I didn't have a back-up.  So I walked downstairs, shirt on but nothing covering me below the waist, to go to the master bathroom and grab the roll from there.  We've got rolls, I just don't want to grab a whole pack right now.  Anyway, I obviously didn't wipe my ass before going down there, so my shit gets to be on more of my skin.  And I overlook that I was walking around the house naked, including at my front door, so if someone stepped up to the front door just as I was walking down the stairs, I'd be fucked.  And of course, I overlook that I have walked around the house naked many times before, especially after fucking around with my stripper girlfriends, so why would I be worried that I would get caught now, and to that I say, well, I'm more embarrassed at just what happened and when I'm fucking around with my stripper girlfriends I would, well, not be ... unless my parents blindside me.

I Have To See Supergirl Again Because I Took A Shit For Too Long

I have this -- I think I've spoken about this before -- OCD thing whereby if I don't see a movie from the beginning, I will, most likely, pay another ticket to see it again so I can be sure to see it from the beginning.  Now, that is kind of a problem if I don't drop everything and make a concerted effort to get to the theater in time to make sure I see that film from the beginning.  But until last/Tuesday night, the last movie whose start I missed was Equalizer 3.

Well, I missed the start of Supergirl.  And what I really hate about myself is that I planned on getting there in plenty of time, and everything that I needed to happen so I could get there in plenty of time happened.  I was given a shift where, if I had a normal shift, I would get out at 3:30.  I never have a normal shift at work, but I only had to stay a little longer, till 3:45.  The listed showtime is 3:50, and they have so many trailers that I knew I had plenty of time to get there.  And I didn't want to get there so early that I would start looking at my watch to see how long after the listed showtime will the damn thing actually start.  I've grown to hate trailers, so, after I punched out at work, I went to the bathroom.  Nature called.

And that's where I fucked myself.  By the time I got done relieving myself, I looked at my watch and saw that it was, oh, around 4:05.  The theater is close to work, but it still took me about ten minutes.  And even though I was able to get a ticket, the guy giving me my ticket said I missed the first 5-10 minutes.

Goddammit!  I lollygagged.  I didn't look at my watch.  Seeing how much time I thought I had when I clocked out made me overestimate how much time I really had.  I was doomscrolling as I was pooping, proving once again that looking at your phone promotes brain rot.  And, sorry to get too graphic, I did have to go.  I picked up a limited time honey brown butter bacon, egg and cheese biscuit, a sausage burrito, and a coffee from McDonald's on the way to work, and that lubricated my excretory system.  It was the second time I had to void waste during my workday, and so when you need to do #2, you can't just say you're done if there's more you need to force out of your body.  Maybe I shouldn't've eaten any breakfast at all.  That would mean I wouldn't need to doo-doo, and I could've just gone to the theater instead.  But nope, I had this great plan laid out before me, and I just tossed it to the side.

And what really makes me hate myself?  Sorry, I don't think Supergirl's that good.  Now, please don't get this twisted.  There are a lot of Republicans and incels who hate this movie for culture war/rage bait reasons, which are not legitimate reasons.  I thought the movie was kind of rote and, um, boring.  But my OCD compels me to buy another ticket so I can see this mediocre flick again in its entirety.

I plan on seeing Toy Story 5 after work today/Wednesday.  I was hoping the showtimes for that movie and Supergirl would line up in such a way so that I could get to the theater super early, buy my ticket to Toy Story 5, and sneak in to see the start of Supergirl, then go see Toy Story 5 from the start.  But unless I get there in the afternoon, that can't happen.  Welp, that means I need to see Supergirl again either Tuesday or next Wednesday.  That's when the price of tickets are the cheapest at the theater I go to.  I may have OCD, but I also know a bargain when I see one.  And hell, I might change my mind and not see this C+ movie from the beginning anyway.  But I could've just avoided all this mess if I would've  taken advantage of the time I had and shit quicker.  So disappointed in myself.

And dammit, even though I was at home, ready to watch the Mexico-South Korea Match in its entirety, and I miss the two most important plays of the Game (the Goal and the crazy double-save by the Mexican Goalkeeper) because I to relieve myself in the bathroom.  Was it the two muffins at work?  The quesabirria after work?  The chicken chowder I got at the gas station where I dumped my garbage and added air to my tires?  Whatever -- I had the bad, bad timing of being in the can and so I didn't see it live.  I saw replays, and I heard it live from the TV in the dining room, but I didn't see it live.  And the curse of being able to see Goals and not seeing them because I'm distracted continues. ...

Doin' The Quad! And On A Full Stomach!!!

Soccer days don't get much fuller than this -- a quadrupleheader of World Cup Group Stage Matches, each evenly spread out with approximately an hour inbetween.  Games at noon, 3, 6 and 9.  And I am going to be at one place for all four of them.

I am going to try and eat and drink through the day.  But my last meal was last night's birria tacos with ramen.  It didn't look like much, but I had to take the rest of the ramen home with me to eat after about an hour.  I had to relieve myself, and post haste.  I don't know why I got so full: I had only a elote going out to the Mexican craft brewery to watch Brazil and Morocco tie, and like I said in my last blog post, I ate waffles in the morning.  It couldn't have been the beer, or the mango michelada, could it?

Anyway, thing is I feel, well, full.  And I didn't plan on it.  This place has five ethnic-themed hot dogs, and I want to try at least four of them.  The way I'm feeling now, I might not make it.  And that surprises and, to be honest, disappoints me.

Expenses Without Receipts

Starting from Sunday, May 31:

• Fucked ****e.  Maybe I shouldn't have done it after getting wanked by ***e*, but I already promised ****e.  I wish I had given myself more time to recuperate.  Total: $120.
• Saturday the 30th ... said HJ from ***e*.  "Responded" perfectly fine.  Total: $120.
• In the afternoon I went to the barber school to get a shave.  Seeing some from high school whom I haven't seen since high school, and I reckon I should clean myself up a bit, even if I'll have a week's worth of stubble on my face.  With tip: $12.
• I then went to Nelson's Cheese for a chicken wrap, a medium corn bacon chowder, and a bottle of RC Cola.  I said that the corn bacon chowder was a diuretic for the ice cream I had the night before, but it was a very tasty diuretic.  It was expensive, so the I gave back all the change from the $20 I handed over, so I spent: $20.
• On Thursday the 28th I went to the Moonwater Gin Bar, specifically for the sushi pop-up.  I'm still on a high from the yellowtail tuna I had.  While I tipped through the receipt, for some reason the restaurant-within-the-restaurant also had fishbowls out asking for tips for both the itamae and the wait staff.  I kind of think it's overkill, but hey, I was totally happy with everybody and everything there, so I tossed in three bucks in both bowls, so the total comes out to: $6.
• Back to Sunday, May 24 ... I first went to Brit's Pub for EPL "Decision Day."  To celebrate the big spectacle (and big crowd), I got two dishes to go along with my Bloody Mary.  With tip: $53.
• I then went to Bebe Zito to grab ice cream.  These guys don't have pennies (I think), so they do the "nearest nickel" thing, and mind rounded up.  With tip -- and golly, that much for ice cream?!: $8.60.
• See, I went to Bebe Zito for ice cream because I wanted to try an affogato by going next door to Caffetto and ordering a double shot of espresso.  Pour the espresso over the ice cream and voila, affogato!  (This wasn't my idea; one day when I went to Caffetto, the barista told me outside food is allowed and in fact told me this hack.)  With tip: $5.
• On Saturday the 23rd I was also at Brit's Pub, this time for the English Championship play-up Game, won by Hull (on a Goal in Second Half Stoppage Time) over Middlesbrough.  I was going to get a second dish if it were going to Extra Time, so that late tally saved me money.  Still, with what I got (a bacon butty [?] and a Bloody Mary), I spent, with tip: $38 (ETA on June 30 at 1:42 a.m. that the actual amount I spent was $32.  Don't know why I said $38.)
• Later that afternoon, I went to the Loons Match.  Then, after the Tie, I went to Bang Brewing.  It's a nice, humble, easygoing place.  They have great pizza (from a different company).  And they are trying to be sustainable with everything they do, including using the grains for their beer.  I charged the pizza, but I paid cash for the Kernza.  With tip: $9.
• And then I saw that they offer products from this Patagonia Provisions line, items from the Patagonia outdoor wear company that also promote sustainability.  I'll bite; I bought crackers and, even though I swore I'd never eat them and think they're gross on pizza, a tin of anchovies.  Total for both: $11.
• Thursday, May 21 -- it was the very first day of the Kickoff To Summer At The Fair, The Minnesota State Fair.  I saw it as an opportunity to get the fair food I always wanted to get but never got around to getting, get the fair food I usually get so I could try other fair food when the actual State Fair rolls around, and eat all of that without the crazy crowds.  Well, the first thing I did was line up at Amish Annie Donut.  What am I doing?  I mean, the chocolate chip donut was great, but why am I replicating the bad part of the State Fair, and first thing?  The fairgrounds itself, a lot of it cordoned off (BTW, there was no Midway because the rides aren't there), was sparse, actually, so there was room to roam without getting bodied up creepily.  (There are limits to crowds for all four days of this pre-Fair Fair; Saturday and Sunday sold out.)  I went back and forth for both food and drinks and using cash and a credit card.  I used cash for the donut (with tip), cheese curds, a small mini donut beer (with tip), and a Minneapple Pie with cinnamon ice cream.  (For my own sake, I want to note here that I used my credit card for a blue raspberry lemonade from Little Prairie Coffee, a pickle pizza from Rick's, and a Big Fat Bacon, something I've always wanted to try.)  Cash total: $44.
• Back to Sunday the 17th, where I spent my afternoon at Art-A-Whirl, eating and drinking while walking around and looking at art.  I was going to have separate bullet points for every food and drink I bought, but I just realized that, like the Minnesota State Fair, there's nothing stopping me from aggregating all the stuff I consume into one bullet point because this was all for one occasion and one "event," albeit a big one.  So, my OCD satisfied and to spare myself a few more seconds of time, I can tell you that the elote, a special beer from Pryes Brewing just for Art-A-Whirl (with tip), and a can of Coke (also with tip) I paid for with cash to the tune of: $19.
• I will separate donations from victuals and libations.  I saw someone carrying a very light-looking safe on her shoulders.  She was getting the word out about a Narcan first aid kit.  She and the person she was with were soliciting donations, so the second time I saw them, I kicked in: $1.
• Friday, May 15: This is when Art-A-Whirl started, and I bought three pieces of art, two of them with cash, and I feel better of I separated them since they are things that, well, I still have.  In front of this art gallery I patronize was this artist selling small pieces of art.  One of them was an egg chair.  It came disassembled in a small plastic case, like a toy you would get when you put in a quarter in a vending machine, you know?  I found it whimsical enough to buy, even though I assembled it real quick and I think this is a chair only for small eggs.  Regardless, it was cheap: $1.
• I took a break from "arting" and went to Stargazer.  This place may be the hippest part of the Twin Cities for food, and I'm glad I hit Stargazer for the first time in a long time.  One drink, a Stargazer Burger (which actually is the size of a slider), pasta and tip came out to: $48.
• A small parking lot was cleared out for a couple art stalls and a couple pop-ups for food and drink.  The pizza and drink I got (both of which I charged) were great.  But I spied a freezer from this company called Chunk Chunk, and I had to get an ice cream sandwich.  Paid: $7.
• I finally bit the bullet, went back to the art gallery I've been going to for decades, and decided I had the money and the courage to buy a piece of art from the owner, another person I've been acquaintances with for decades.  It is a small framed print which I now have at my work desk.  Yeah, I buy art now.  By the way, I don't know if it's just art, but one does not pay sales tax if you can pay with money.  Cost: $35.

Good through May 31.

I had to evacuate my bowels four or five (probably five) times yesterday.  I had a chicken wrap, and an RC Cola for lunch, but I think the big thing was the medium corn bacon chowder I had.  It was good, and I don't think it was the diuretic in and of itself.  But it triggered all the excrement in my colon from the ice cream I had Friday night.  Things happen like that, at least with my body.  But I didn't think I had four-to-five visits to the bathroom's worth of it.

I think I'm all better now!

Which Birthday Time Treat Should I Get?

I am noticing more and more that the happy things (as opposed to the sad things) that occupy my mind right now are looking forward to what I want to eat once I get out of work.  Maybe most people think that way.

Anyhoo, I was thinking yesterday/Tuesday if I want to eat after attending the Golden Gopher baseball Game at U. S. Bank Stadium.  It would depend on how snowy it would be; if it was manageable, I would go through the drive-thru (the Game, and the Gophers beat Gonzaga, went three hours, so there was no way I would be able to sit down at a restaurant) and suffer the sleet that came in through the open car window to order.  And it was manageable, so I did.

But which place?  I had in my mind getting this Mountain Dew Baja Blast Freeze whatever thingy from Taco Bell, which deposited it in my app because it's going to be my birthday soon.  I don't know if I will like it, and I hate Mountain Dew.  But it's free, so I'll get it.  And I thought I would get it last/Tuesday night.  But out of the blue I then remembered that this is also Shamrock Shake time, and those are tasty as hell.  I also think, although I'm not sure, that McDonald's (or at least the ones around here) pull them and the Oreo Shamrock McFlurry quickly, like the moment St. Patrick's Day is done.  That sucks, and I want to have them as much as possible.  So, assuming I'm right, I have only a week to enjoy them.  And that's what I was suddenly thinking when I pivoted from Taco Bell to McDonald's.

I got a regular Oreo Shamrock McFlurry as dessert for the Filet-O-Fish I used my points for.  I'm paying for it with my bowels -- darn lactose intolerance -- but I'm glad I remembered to get that green McFlurry at least once this year.

Help Me, Bill Shatner, I'm Not Regular!

At the college baseball Games yesterday/Saturday, I had coffee before the first Game, had a cheeseburger, fries and a beer between the first and second (aside: They screwed up my order ... I ordered a cheeseburger, I overheard someone order just a hamburger [even though a hamburger isn't on the menu and I don't ever ask for modifications from ordering food at a Game], someone was about to give me a cheeseburger but then yanked it back to swap it with a hamburger ... when I told the workers I wanted cheese, someone in the back just threw a cold slice of cheddar on top of the burger ... I saw the cheeseburger they were about to give me; that cheese was melted ... lazy bums), and a hot dog and a souvenir Wild Cherry Pepsi between the second and third.  And then, once the Games were done, I stopped by Taco Bell.

You know what this should mean, right?  Colon blow, stuff like that.  Nope.  I am not regular.  It's bothering me to no end.  Maybe the spaghetti I'm about to make will do the trick, but the trick should already have been done.

Now, about relieving yourself: Have you seen that cereal commercial with William Shatner?  The one where he calls himself "Will Shat?"  I believe this ad, which aired in the Super Bowl, is a sign of the end times:

I blame Trump.  But sheepishly I admit that I really, really want to try this to regulate my gut.  It's for Kellogg's Raisin Bran, by the way.  I rarely remember what memorable commercials advertise for.

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!

Stranger's Shit

When I went to Mariucci Friday afternoon I needed to pee.  Like the arena, but they still have fucking troughs, and I'll be goddamned if I ever have to use one.  Luckily there weren't too many people there, so I just went into one of the open stalls and FUCKING GODDAMMIT, there was floating piece of feces in the toilet.  And it was yellow and brown and everything.  Some motherfucker just didn't care to flush, Jesus fucking Christ.

I'll be honest: It kind of ruined the rest of my day.  I was watching the hockey Games, and I got obsessed with what I wanted to buy there.  But FUCKING GODDAMMIT, I flashed back to that piece of shit in the toilet.  The last time I saw something like that was at Lafayette Coney Island in Detroit when I was there the last weekend Tiger Stadium was open, and my pure OCD makes me flash back to that piece of shit I saw from time to time (even though the water was clear, for some fucking reason).  Goddammit, people are just fucking gross and rude!!!

And No One Showed Up

So my fantasy auction, for the fantasy football league I run, was last night.  Since most of the other members reside in the East Coast, I have traditionally scheduled it for 6 in the evening before the start of the NFL season, just to get the very latest news in case there are late injuries or cuts or anything like that.

This is supposed to be the most exciting day for the league and its members.  But, and I don't know how or why the juice is gone (although I can speculate), fewer and fewer members have shown up for the auction.  We have dwindled in number of members too, but when the auction starts, there has been at least one other person doing it live with me.

I actually left work early for this.  What I mean is that I usually clear the deck, aka make sure there is no work that is supposed to be done before the new day left over to the new day.  It was doubly important last/Wednesday night because I go from The Third Department to The Fourth Department today/Thursday, so I would literally be leaving any stuff I was supposed to do to someone else.  I hate when I have to do stuff that should have been done the day before, and so I do my best not to do it to anyone else.  Last/Wednesday night was an exception because hey, I've got my fantasy football auction!

I needed to take a crap after I punch out, then I miss my turn and have to take the long way to the library.  I have maybe two minutes to get into the library, swipe a guest pass, login, get to Yahoo! Fantasy Sports, log in there, then enter the auction.  It in fact already started with the first player, Ja'Marr Chase, having been nominated and on his way to one of my competitors.  I was about to apologize for being late until I saw that all of the icons next to all the other teams in the league were represented by the dueling circular arrows.  That means that they're not online and that the computer/algorithm is conducting the auction for that manager.

Everyone except me had that icon.  No one was at the auction except for me.

Looking on the bright side, I had budgeted 90 minutes to go through the auction, but it was over in 35.  On the down side ... well, no one gives a damn about this league anymore.  And we play for money!  It's gotten so bad that there are people who have rolling winnings and debts to the league stretching back years. I (as the commissioner) haven't sent the other managers their winnings because the other managers haven't asked for them.  In turn, I haven't asked people to settle up what they owe because ... well, I'm a toothless commissioner.  And so we just ... play, sorta.  Year after year, and although I love that we have been doing this for at least a decade, the lack of enthusiasm for our league, crystallized by everyone else no-showing for the auction ... ngl, it hurts a bit.

I think we'll just auto-pick from now on.

Felt Sick, But Now Feeling Fine

So I started off yesterday/Saturday having an American brunch with my parents, and I felt fine.  Then I went to this big event and, even though my stomach felt a bit oogy, I nibbled on a few things and felt fine enough.  I then treated myself to a big post-event dinner in St. Paul, and I had the same thing (food and drink) I had when I went there last year, and I didn't think it was too much or bad for my gastrointestinal system, but that's when I felt the urge to, you know, relieve myself.  But I thought I could tough it out to the bank and the gas station before heading home.

I was able to do all that and get home -- barely.  I had to go so bad that I immediately went to the bathroom, whereby I tried to poop, then did, but felt that I had shit some more, but couldn't.  And my body got real hot, a level of uncomfortable warmth I don't ever remember feeling.  It was not hot or humid outside, but I was burning up.  I began to sweat profusely.  And I started to panic; I noticed that there was no way for me to open the window in the bathroom (it's a long story, and maybe I'll blog post about it) and I felt like I wanted to scream.  My gut and GI tract were killing me.  And still I wasn't excreting as much as I thought it would.  You ever have that feeling of relief, if not euphoria, after a huge bowel movement?  I was banking on that, but it didn't happen for me.

I thought I was done, wasn't, went back into the bathroom, and didn't shit at all.  When I felt like my insides were no longer going to imminently cave in on me, I went back into my bedroom, turned on the fan, crept underneath my blanket, and passed out.

I woke up about three hours later (and totally missed Liga MX, which I had on the TV this whole time) ... and I feel fine.  Well, I still feel fat and as if I am still carrying a lot of human waste inside of me that I shouldn't.  But the sweats are gone, as is the intestinal distress and the feeling that I am about to go crazy.  I don't think I'm out of the woods quite yet, but I can now think about just what the hell happened to me.  It couldn't have been the brunch, could it?  Or was it the cheese during the party?  Or was it all the pork bellies I had for dinner?  Or was it a combination of those three occasions, or food poisoning, or something else?

Doomscroll Addiction Got Me Again

It was a combination of things again.  The big thing, of course, was the political assassinations of former Speaker of the Minnesota House Melissa Hortman and her husband by that Republican terrorist (and goddammit, we have to start describing them as they are: Republican terrorists) who's still fucking running loose.  My parents coming home has got me down.  The weather was extremely cold (well, temperatures in the fifties and sixties, which isn't too bad in and of itself, but it was drizzling off and on, and it totally matched the mood set by the devastating murders overnight).

Plus, I had to work a Game this/Saturday afternoon before going to the United FC Match in the evening.  I thought I would have time to get in a solid nap, but my best friend and his wife were in town.  Downtown Minneapolis, in fact, so it was too easy to just walk from Target Center to their hotel to chat with them for 75 minutes.  It's been about a decade since I've seen them, so yeah, I skipped a nap, which I desperately needed, to talk.  And then, once I got home, diarrhea attacked me.  I think my bowels were just stuck in me and the breakfast I ate before the Game was just the thing to loosen my stool.  Unfortunately I couldn't get as much sleep in as I wanted because I had to go back to the bathroom.  (Still, I think I got, maybe, ten minutes.  But it was a hard sleep; the alarm woke me up and I was all, "What?  What happened?"  That's a sure sign that you were out like a busted light.)

Anyway, I got to the MNUFC Match, which featured two of the weirdest Goals you'll ever see: A backpass which got past the Goalkeeper for a Loons lead, and a golazo from halfway that tied the Match.  It was a good Game, even after San Diego FC tied it up early in the Second Half at 2.  So why did I get the urge to start scrolling through my social media feeds again?  Well, the above excuses, and again, there was a dead spot during the soccer Game where, like, someone was hurt, and I took the opportunity to pick up my phone.  From there, I got sucked into looking at all the posts over the Hortman assassinations and the No Kings rallies going on in the afternoon.

And while I was down that rabbit hole, I heard an audible gasp around the stadium.  I looked up and saw the backup Loons Goalkeeper lying on his side and SDFC celebrating.  They took the lead, and they would eventually score another one to seal a 4-2 Win.  Now, missing the opponent scoring isn't the worse thing in the world, but I did buy a ticket to a sport where Goals aren't something you see all the time.  It was the Game-winning Goal, so it was important.  But I skipped watching because I am a goddamn addict for my phone.  Beyond the excuses, and I can't do anything about it now, I gotta fucking pay attention to the reality I see before me, especially if I am paying a pretty penny for it.

Is one of the aftereffects of drinking three alcoholic drinks (with a free Slurpee thrown in there) constipation?  I think it's happened before, and it happened again, and I don't like it.  Dang, I just want to drink alcohol and be regular.  That too much to ask?

The High Of The Timberwolves, The Low Of Taco Bell, The Consistency Of Nature Calling

So I went out to a brewery that began to show Timberwolves playoff Games outside on their parking lot, and it has gotten a huge following.  There were about 150 people who saw the Wolves erupt in the Third Quarter to beat The Bastard Philadelphia Warriors and take a 3-1 lead in their Western Conference Semifinals series.  Awesome!

So, what do I do when I want to celebrate?  I eat!  Even though I had to slices of pizza at the brewery, I picked up Taco Bell.  And I ate it.  And I feel like I need to evacuate my bowels for the second time tonight, this after evacuating my bowels at work yesterday/Monday morning.  (For the record, I went to McDonald's and spent points that were about to expire June 1 on a sausage burrito.  Never before has that triggered my excretory system, but Sunday night I ate rice and lettuce that's been sitting in the fridge for more than a week.  Some combination of those foods contributed to my time in the bathroom at work, just as Taco Bell is doing the same right now.)  I need to go to bed, but I don't think my excretory system will let me.

Oh, and this came after I had a pretty crappy customer service experience at the TB drive-thru.  I waited at the window for five minutes as the server was looking at a tablet and punching keys into the cash register.  After that, she just shoved a bag in my face.  No "sorry to keep you waiting," no "here you go."  Complete silence.  I don't apologize for being big on manners, and that was, well rude.  I was better off not getting Taco Bell tonight -- for that and for, well, me needing to go to the bathroom again.

Too Much Of ... Everything

So I went to my favorite speakeasy last/Friday night, and I had my two drinks and ate my two plates of food, and I was still so hungry that, after I saw that Jimmy John's gave me two bucks off a sandwich, I bought one.  And then I ate it at the parking lot of a local grocery store, but the sandwich had peppers in it or something, so I needed something to wash it down.  I was going to buy a Pepsi, but I didn't think I was going to drink it.  But I did.

And then my body woke me up early this morning to, let's just say, get regular in the bathroom.  And I had to get up to do it again.  So hey, I'm good with my plumbing.  But I guess you can say that drinking makes me hungry, and I did a bit of both.  But honestly, what gives me a real twinge of regret is the bill I got from the speakeasy.  $100?!  Yeah, I like these guys, but I generally have a rule that I don't spend $100 on myself unless I'm having dinner with friends.

So ... cut back on the drinking, cut back on the eating, and cut back on the money.  Got it.  Maybe.

Thoughts And Prayers To The Spontaneously Pooping Son And His Father

So leaving the baseball Game at the U. last/Saturday night, I stopped by the restroom.  There, there was young boy, maybe 2 or 3, on the Koala Kare bed, and his father in complete apoplexy.  "How do you poop like that?  How??" he was crying in near-agony as (and I didn't look straight at this ... scene) he apparently was using as much toilet paper as possible to, it looks like, wipe the crap out of his boy's ass.

Completely unprompted, he starts venting to me, the only other person in the men's room: "I asked him if he needed to poop.  He said no.  So I tell him to stand outside (I hope he meant away from the stalls; I don't know if it would be wise to tell your young son to stay outside of the bathroom all by himself).  And when I come back, he totally crapped his pants.  And this is like the second or third time today!"

As he told his son, "Man, you gotta get it together," I made my way out.  I didn't know what to say except, "Good luck, man," to which he said, "Yeah, thanks for ..." and he didn't finish his sentence because he didn't really know what to say, either.  "I understand, you have to vent," I said, and I left.

Godspeed to the father and to the incontinent son.

I Should Survive The Subway Sub, Right?

OK, so I got a footlong from Subway and ate half of it before going into work.  I stashed that other half at the work fridge and remembered to take it with me when I got done, which is something I was afraid I would forget to do.  What I did forget was bringing it from the car to the refrigerator at home once I got home.  Instead, it stayed lain on the passenger-side mat until I realized it wasn't in the fridge when I checked yesterday/Sunday morning.

So the government says (until last Monday, but hey, scientists thought it's a rule, so I'll follow it) that you shouldn't allow unstable food at room temperature for more than two hours (and one hour if it's really hot outside).  Well, I think it was barely above freezing when I got home, and it dipped well below freezing overnight, so that would arrest any bacteria that would've formed in the sandwich, right?  Sure, I drove the car to The Current's concert at First Avenue on Saturday night and I put the heat on, but that was only 45 both there and back at most, and besides, it had to have been much colder down on the mat, right?

Just ate the rest.  I noticed as I bit in there was a bit of ... iciness in it.  I looked and saw that a bit of frost formed on the lettuce.  So the sandwich did freeze overnight in the car.  I was hoping 13 hours of it being in the fridge, which is set at 37 degrees, would "warm" it up to where there wouldn't be any ice, but guess not.  I know from previous bad experiences that my gut and excretory system do not like cold items in general, so I now not only have to worry about eating this sandwich that might have been too hot, but also eating this sandwich that might have been too cold.  And I'm doing this before a workweek.  Great.

Yeah, It Was A Mistake Eating Those Eggs

Before they left -- have I blog posted about this already? -- my parents left me four cartons of eggs.  And they told me to eat them.  Sure, eggs are perishable, but I've done this dance before.  Despite the expiration and best-by dates, I've eaten eggs that are supposedly "spoiled" and I came out of the other end just fine.  I'm still alive, aren't I?

I was thinking that after a month of them being gone, it was finally time to eat these eggs, and there was no better time than after exercising Sunday.  Of the four cartons, one of them only had three eggs in them, so I started there.  I eschewed the float test because 1) I thought it better to just crack them open and see if they were discolored or otherwise looked and smelled bad and 2) I had ideas of using egg whites an incorporating them into a couple cocktails I wanted to try.  The third egg I cracked open had a runny yolk, even though I accidentally drove my thumb through the egg shell when I cracked it open, so I threw that one away.  The other two looked and smelled and seemed fine, so I had them scrambled.

I knew I was in trouble a couple hours after I ate them when I felt bloated.  A bit later, I let out a noxious fart.  And then, about 90 minutes after I fell asleep, I was jolted awake by my body, which told me I needed to go to the toilet, immediately.  My excretory system was barking at me so loud that I couldn't fall back asleep, and I had to make two trips to the porcelain throne, before I left for work and during morning break at work.

That's when I looked at the Julian calendar three-digit stamp on all the cartons.  They were packed around mid-October and Halloween.  The United States Department Of Agriculture says that eggs are good to eat four-to-five weeks after the packing date -- which means the eggs were good until, well, the time my folks left for the winter.  And they told me I could eat them?  Now, like I said, I'm sure I've eaten eggs well past this threshold and was fine.  But after the episode I had yesterday/Monday morning (and I still feel slightly nauseous, which might be a sign my body is still fighting the salmonella poisoning), it would be stupid of me to even risk it.  So I'm going to find a way to dump them in an organics pile in Minneapolis.  Don't care if it's three full cartons of eggs.  What, are my parents going to know?

Urges: One More Day ... OK, Maybe Two More Days

In the mad scramble to prepare for my sister and brother-in-law coming here, I needed to take my jerk-off towel to my storage unit.  My sister never comes into my room anymore.  She thinks it smells.  On the hand I'm upset that she finds me so repellent that way.  On the other ... well, that means that she won't touch my shit and will leave me alone, and I always will like that.

Now, with that being said, I am paranoid enough to think that she would go into my room and peep around when I was away at work, just to be nosy or if my fucking parents goad her into doing it.  And it's not as if there's a lock in the closet.  She could have just opened it and smelled it and saw it right there.  And come to think of it, I find it very weird to try and rub one out while they're in the room on the other side of the wall.  Maybe that was the reason why I took it out of here.

Anyway, I have been able to refrain from masturbation for the past week-and-a-half or so.  Moreover, it's been pretty easy, "thanks," I guess, to my slowing libido.  There's this one chick on Zishy I have been obsessing over tonight, though.  I just found out she has an Instagram and an OnlyFans; maybe I'll be able to check her out once my sis and bro-in-law leave -- and not have the urge to wank before then.

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Meanwhile, I'll confess, I have not been, uh, evacuating my bowels a lot since they got here.  I don't think that has anything to do with them being here; my body just goes through cycles like that.  Until now, thankfully.  I've had my first, um, productive evacuation in a long, long time.  I don't think I ate anything out of the ordinary yesterday/Saturday -- just Chinese food and wonton soup.  I don't consider them to be fiber-rich foods, so I don't exactly know why I had a good bowel movement now.  Maybe it was just time.  If so, good, because I haven't felt this good since at least Tuesday!