Addendum To: Fucking Sprinkler Head ...

So since I got out of work on time (and I don't know the last time that happened when I was tasked to do The Fourth Department), I figured this was an opportunity to go back to working on the fucking sprinkler head.

The first time I turned on the cycle it was worse than Sunday.  Not only did the shitty head pop out from the pipe, one of the other heads didn't pop up and water.  I presumed that this sprinkler system relies on pressure, so that when this shitty head popped out of its socket, there wasn't enough pressure for this other one to rise up and do its thing.  But this shitty head popped out on Sunday, and that other head worked just fine.

Anyway, after putting a wood pallet into my second storage unit, I came back and took another shot.  I made damn sure the sprinkler head was screwed into the pipe opening.  I pulled it up to make sure it was secure.  I turned on the system ... and I'll be goddamned, the head was just floating in its hole because it popped out of the goddamn pipe opening again.  (By the way, the sprinkler head that wasn't working earlier in the evening popped up and watered like it was supposed to, so there's that.)

I'm beside myself right now.  Swear to fucking God that thing was screwed in tight.  So I'm working on another theory, though I might be doing so just because any alternative would drive me up a wall.  Maybe, when I yanked the whole fuckin' thing off of the pipe, I broke the sprinkler head.  I took a close look and it, well, looks like the thing isn't retracting completely.  And for all I know, the threads (either on the bottom of the sprinkler head or on the pipe opening) were stripped, either through me or through years of wear and tear.

So what I'm going to do (possibly tomorrow since I work and presumably get home early) is take the old and busted sprinkler head and replace it with the old and busted sprinkler head I replaced in the backyard.  Yes, it's not working, and yes, it's just been laying around the past several weeks.  But what I'm worried about right now is if the issue with that sprinkler head is the sprinkler head or the opening it's supposed to be secured to.  If it's the head, I can just buy another one, and many of my problems would be solved.  But if the fucking thing pops out again ... well, I might need to call in the lawn maintenance company.  There is a bunch of dirt in the opening, and try as I might, I couldn't completely clear out the pipe.  It's possible that dirt is creating such a build-up of pressure that it's going to turn any sprinkler head that's screwed onto it into a projectile missile.  And so if it needs to be cleaned out, that'll require equipment, expertise, and patience I don't have.

God, I just hope a new sprinkler head will do the trick.  Fuckin' Christ, man, if I had just waited for the cycle to end, I think I could've kept the old sprinkler head and the cycle would have been perfect because there would be no water splashing onto the driveway or street.  Fuck!

I think I was able to fix the two sprinkler heads I wanted to work on this weekend so that they arc on my lawn and not our house or the neighbor's driveway.  (Unfortunately, there is still the possibility that wind could push the water from those sprinklers onto the driveway, like it did yesterday/Sunday afternoon.  I don't know if that can be helped.  What I needed to make sure was that those two sprinklers didn't arc beyond grass, and I think I accomplished that.)

But after getting a wood pallet from work home, I ... didn't do much of anything.  Sure, I've done some laundry, but that was yesterday/Sunday morning.  I still haven't really done anything with my stuff because I've been busy doing yardwork.  And I could, for example, work on my fantasy football draft, but now I'm too tired to do anything.

Damn, I feel like such a lazy failure.

Late going to Caffetto, and while I wanted to reconcile my monthly expense list, goddammit, I forgot my day planner at home.  Guess that makes up time for me to attend Porchfest, which just started, and so I'm kind of bummed I wasn't at a house when a bad actually started the day (Porchfest kicked off at 1, which is about four minutes after I typed this).

Going to a house party.  Don't know when I want to get there.  A part of me wants to get there at 2, but unlike Porchfest, there's no good reason for me to get there right at the start because strippers don't usually start working when the party begins.  Also, the one woman whom I wanted to be there, ****e, just texted me that she wouldn't be there.  I am going just to please the host, ******e, so I make sure I get her texts for parties in the future.  But will I get a dance?  Unless I run into someone I remember or take a chance on a woman, I don't think so.

Could move up my yardwork to after the party, but it rained just now.  Heavily at some points.  Was it supposed to rain?  Didn't catch the news last night.  The rain discourages me from mowing or trying to reconfigure the sprinkler heads till tomorrow.

My day so far.

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.

Eggplant Emoji Or No Eggplant Emoji?

So I'm Facebook friends with this hot woman who is not a model (at least I don't think) but is a swimwear designer.  She takes many photos of herself in her creations.  She's got a great body, but it's not as if she's showing off her ass or anything, which in my opinion is nudity.  So while she's beautiful, it never gets to the point where I have the perverted urge to send her an eggplant emoji.

Yesterday/Tuesday her Reels pop up.  She's in her swimsuits again, only this time she has a younger woman with her.  She never says, but I suspect she's her daughter.  And she's modeling her (maybe) mom's swimsuits too.  She's fucking hot as well, and this time, she's showing off her ass.

Two hotties, one of whom showing her bare ass?  Yeah, that's enough for me to send an eggplant emoji -- actually two, one for each of them.  But then I paused.  Do I really want to do that?  I scroll through our Messenger to see if I sent her eggplant emojis before -- I haven't.  If I give her the double eggplant, will she be mad at me?  Worse yet, would she show her followers what I Messengered her?

I hope not, but I can't take that risk.  So despite my horniness, I decided not to respond.  It makes me sick to my stomach that I'm censoring myself.  But I'm getting older, though, and maybe more paranoid.

Shouldn't I Be The One Teaching Her?

So this week the new girl finally is getting trained in The Fourth Department.  Once she's fully up to speed, all four of us are able to handle both The Third and The Fourth Departments.  It had to be done; it's her job to know those skills, after all.  But, and I was talking about this with one of us four, we were happy how things were, with the new girl just doing The Third Department.  That means more work dedicated just for us.  And that means more job security for us.  But alas.

Thing I don't know how to process is who's teaching her.  My former supervisor, the one who taught me everything back there, is long gone.  So who is teaching her?  One of my other co-workers ... who got the position we're at after me.  By tenure, I should be the one teaching the new girl.  But I'm not.  In fact, the question of who would train her -- well, I should be more specific; why am I not the one training her when I've got the most experience -- never came up.  It was her all along.  I've seen the conversations between her and my current boss.  She has picked up the slack and is doing some of the responsibilities my former supervisor and boss did, so naturally my boss thought she'd be the one to break the new girl in ... even though I think I was at this job a year before she was.

So, why am I not training her?  It could be incompetence.  Even though I've been at this longer, I'm not sure I can say I do it better.  Maybe she does.  Also, I don't give off extrovert vibes at work.  When I work, I am usually sitting down and I have earbuds jammed into my ear canals.  I answer questions the best I can, but if I'm seeing me at work, I can't say I am interested in being engaging with my co-workers, let alone training someone new.

Does it hurt to be passed over like this?  Yes, I won't lie.  Mostly because I'm scared over what it means to be passed over.  This critical responsibility of training is an important one, and it should go to the one with the most tenure.  That it's not reflects poorly on me, and if, God forbid, something were to happen with the company, I think not training the new girl would be a demerit against me keeping my job.  On the other hand, I've seen my co-worker helping the new girl out this first week of training.  And honestly, I'm not sure I would have any interest in training her.  I remember all the bad and dumb things I've done and continue to do at my job.  Telling her how to do things right would probably make me feel like an impostor.  And as shitty as yesterday's/Thursday's work was, I was at least left alone, and that's something I treasure at work.  So maybe my co-worker and boss knew what they were doing when they passed me over.  And maybe I should not be the one teaching her.

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. ...

Planning World Cup Viewing Where

I have gotten obsessed with arranging my free time around the World Cup the five weeks it's going on.  I shouldn't, considering that this World Cup is being (mainly) hosted by a fascist country.  Also, it's become even more obvious that FIFA is a corrupt organization that continues to get away with suckering communities into giving them money in exchange for the right to host the biggest sporting event on the planet this side of the Olympics.  No wonder, then, that the president of FIFA, Gianni Infantino, gave Trump a made-up-on-the-spot "peace prize" just to kiss his ass, one grifter publicly proclaiming his love to another grifter.  The business side of this soccer festival should make one's stomach turn.  However, since I am plotting how I will watch as much of it as I can proves I have overlooked this evil sausage-making and, in turn, makes me complicit.

Well, my complicit ass is still going to watch, and figure out the best way to watch while balancing things such as my checkbook, the health of my car, going to my storage unit to go through my stuff (which is really chapping my ass right now the more I think about it), and just going home and relaxing.  A part of me truly relishes how to put the pieces together, but a part of me knows this can easily overwhelm me, and another part of me knows I'm capable of just saying "fuck it" and I'll completely forget all of this.

Regardless, right now I'm planning ... but only for next week.  I am trying to do the following:

• Have one day where I go work, then directly go home.  I will watch all the Games from home and eat in, and thus I will not spend any money;
• I will go out and watch at least one soccer Match at a bar or establishment boasting about televising the World Cup;
• I will go out and watch at least one soccer Match at a Mexican or Latin American restaurant that has a TV and may or may not be televising the World Cup;
• I will go from work to my storage unit, where I will spend at least the majority of one soccer Game listening to it on Sirius XM while going through my stuff.  I will not spend any money and instead go straight home after the Match is over;
• Oh, and I promised ******a that I would see her at the strip club one night.

My original guiding principle on which weekdays I'd do each of the above depended on whether I could watch the Match on FOX/Channel 9.  If it wasn't on there, I figured that wasn't a day I should just go home; either I would watch at a pub or restaurant that had Fox Sports 1, or listen to it on satellite radio at my storage unit.  But then I remembered that Telemundo is over the air and is airing every single Match on free TV, albeit in Spanish.  Soccer is universal, so watching any Game from home was back on the table.

But then I saw last/Friday night's South Korea-Czechia Match, and for some dumb reason the audio and video were out of synch.  I'm hoping it's a one-time glitch, because if it's not, I won't watch Telemundo anymore ... which might actually make planning easier because it removes the possibility that I could watch any Game at home.  Fix this, Telemundo.

Another consideration I, um, considered is the quality of the sides playing.  I want to see competitive Matches, and once the final roundelay of Games comes around, the stakes are going to influence which ones I watch and thus where.  But the field for the World Cup has expanded from 36 to 48.  That means a lot of new teams -- and a bunch of teams that are not good and should get easily dispatched in the Games they play.  Also, there is a fifth round of Knockout Stage Matches now, which means 32 teams will advance out of the Group Stage.  Allowing 2/3 of the field into the "playoffs" makes the "regular season" Group Stage Games somewhat less important, even if the final Group Stage Games will determine who comes in last in each Group and thus is automatically eliminated.

The more I think about it, the more I've decided that I want to dedicate my attention to matchups that feature good XI's or countries that appear to be evenly matched.  If there's a Game that doesn't satisfy either condition, I am beginning to think it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to only tune in to it in the middle of the Match, or even, for example, bail on the Game and leave an establishment early.  It is hard to eat out at a restaurant for two hours so you can watch a whole Game.  And speaking of whole Games ... I realized that when I get out of work each day will dictate whether I go home, my unit, or out to watch.  Do I want to go out to catch the back end of a lopsided Match between two nations that have no chance of winning the World Cup?  Maybe, actually, and I'll save the days I go directly home for when I am able to watch a good Game on paper in its entirety.

You can see how I am weighing a lot of things, right?  Yeah, maybe I'm overthinking this.  But I don't want to spend money I can't afford, I want to start eating the food at home that I've bought, I don't want to tax my car, and I do want to start cleaning up my stuff.  So, considering all of that ... I still don't know.  Guess the only really important thing to me is I just want to watch some soccer.

I went through my plans of going to this new Middle Eastern place that came recommended after I left last/Friday night's Prince tribute concert.  Interesting food, but I didn't think it'd be so much.  Moreover, I ordered this through drive-thru at around 1:30.  I got done eating it all around 4.  And I'm having donuts with someone I haven't seen since high school this/Saturday morning at 10.  Eating this was a mistake.  And I regret doing so.

I'm A Desperate, Horny, Forgetful Goddamn Lush

So I'm starting this blog post at a quarter to 4 in the morning.  I'm doing what I want to do over an extended holiday -- staying up, surfing the Internet, listening to music (this time terrestrial radio on my boombox).  But my cellphone is plugged into my power bank.  The fuckin' thing is pissing away energy.  I juiced it up to 80% last nigh, then unplugged it like you're supposed to, but then within, oh, half an hour of active doomscrolling, it couldn't even hold its charge for that long.  When it dipped to 76%, I plugged it in again, hoping I would unplug it once it reached 80% again.  But I knew there was a chance I'd be distracted by looking at my laptop, and of course I did.  It soared well past 80%, which I hear is bad for my phone (even though it's already in not-great shape).  At this point, if it's already past 80%, I might as well charge it all the way so I can delay when I need to charge it up again.

That's the forgetfulness I hate about me that reared its ugly head over the past 24 hours.  This past evening I made myself a cocktail, a margarita featuring juice from a lime that I bought over a week ago that may or may not have spoiled.  I drink too much already, so I'm trying to hew to the "1-2-3" rule Dr. Vivek Murthy recommended in his last days as President Biden's Surgeon General.  The problem, I realized while drinking the margarita, is that that was my fourth drink of the day.  I started off with a bloody mary in the morning while watching the English Championship Play-Up Match (won by Hull over Middlesbrough in a 95the Minute Goal), then had a cider at the United FC Match, then had a beer with a Farina Rossa pizza after the Match at a craft brewery.  And this is on the heels of drinking three drinks Friday ... and two drinks Thursday ... and two (or was it three?) drinks Wednesday.  All I can say is, I drink a lot.

Oh, MNUFC has a program where you can drop off pop tops at their waste receptacles.  I have a pile of them, and I was going to bring them with to drop them off, but I forgot to put them into my cargo pants.  I didn't leave them in my cargo pants because, unlike my denim jeans, my cargo pants don't have that fifth "watch pocket," and I didn't like the feeling of those pop tops jangling around inside a big pocket on my cargos and potentially falling out if I'm sleeping in my car and put my legs parallel to the ground.  But all day yesterday I reminded myself to put those pop tops in my pants.  But I didn't.  Oh, and then I took out the pop top on my Wild State cider intending to deposit it ... and I fucking forget to do that, too.  I meant to be rid of these pop tops, and I wound up collecting more.  And even though there will be a MNUFC2 Match at Allianz Field in one Month, the Loons are off because of the World Cup for two Months.  Fuckin' great.

And all the while I've been trying to see if I can arrange a fuck session with ****e.  Earlier last week I texted her; no answer.  I texted her again, saying I am free either today or tomorrow; she just said, "ok."  She gets this way sometimes, minimally responsive and vague.  I asked for clarity while eating pizza and eating beer last night, but she has yet to respond.  I'm horny enough that I want to make booty texts to all of my stripper girlfriends (even though a lot of them are out of town this Memorial Weekend, dammit) so I can get some lovin' this long, lonely weekend.  But ... fuckin' A, ****e is the only one who'll let me inside her, so I gotta give her every chance to get back to me.  But what if she's on one of her episodes where she ghosts me?

This weekend is supposed to be fun.  In many ways, it is.  And I am seeking every which way to find the negative in all of this.  Maybe that's a sign that I should fix myself instead of just rationalizing my decadence and inattention as part of enjoying the long holiday.  Or, maybe I should just say fuck it all.

Eating Out Of Order

By that I mean that, pretty much all my life, once I eat something I consider light or dessert, that's the last thing I'll eat that night.  I've just never thought I could, or at least should, eat anything else, and especially anything that would be polar opposite of that light snack or that dessert.  It just shouldn't be done -- else there would be chaos.

I have breached my rule the last two nights, and I feel bad about it.  Wednesday night, after suffering through a lethargic Loons Loss, I went home and ate several Girl Scout Cookies.  But I had to stay up to do the WMNSS.  While going through it, I felt my body telling me to go to bed immediately.  However, I had to stay awake to finish the survey, and I then developed this hunger for the deli meat I had in the fridge.  So, even though I ate dessert (the Girl Scout Cookies), I went into the fridge and and pulled out one piece of ham and one piece of roast beef and wolfed both down.  And they hit the spot, ngl.

Last/Thursday night, after a long and stressful night at work, I went home, downed a snack pack of Chex Mix, then made myself a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich, which was the only thing I was planning to eat for the night (and I was going to chase it with what turns out to be the remaining amount of milk I have).  But dammit, I got hungry, and so I finally ripped into one of the two pizza Lunchables I bought from the discount store close by me.  It was time I tried these for the first time; when I was young I was obsessed with the original Lunchables, where I would stack the cracker, meat and cheese in different orders.  But pizza?  Never had it till just this past evening, and though I wouldn't say it was the best pizza I've ever had, I didn't mind it at all.  I just feel weird, and wrong, to eat pizza after I ate a PB&J, which I consider both a light snack and, in some frames of mind, dessert.  Can I break free from my wrong order-eating sins tonight/Friday night?

More Strainer Frustrations

So I blog posted about forgetting about putting in a strainer in the master shower for, like, a month or so.  Now, for the second time this year, as I was letting the washing machine wash my dirty clothes tonight/Monday night, I went downstairs once the machine was done to see the strainer dislodged from the drain.

Maybe I should remind you (I'm thinking I've blog posted about this before) that the drain coming from the washing machine isn't connecting to some drain pipe that automatically feeds down the main line and out of the house.  It's pointed right into the laundry room basin.  It's just pointed in there.  But, as I get occasionally reminded (especially these past two times this year), the force of the water coming out of the washing machine is enough to push the strainer, which is just sitting on top of the drain, off of the drain.

These two times I see the strainer popped out and just laying on the basin.  I also see wetness around the main drain on the floor.  If there is not anything holding back the water in the basin, there's so much water flowing through the pipe leading out of the house that it backs up, and to relieve pressure, it rises up through the cover on the floor's drain.  Hate when that happens.

And the thing is, when I was getting the clothes washed last/Monday night, I thought about checking in the middle of the wash to make sure the drain didn't dislodge like that.  But I was too busy zoning out on my laptop and TV.  If I had gone down there, I might have been able to put the strainer back in its place -- not in time, but possibly with enough time (if that makes any sense) that all the clumps of lint and fuzz wouldn't have gone into the drain and through the pipe.  I now have these unrelenting thoughts that the septic tank is backed up with all the crap that would've been trapped by the strainer, and I hate that I wouldn't pry my eyes from the two screens I had on and go downstairs to prevent that from happening.  Dammit, I hate myself right now.

Forgot Shower Strainer

Right now I'm bothered (admittedly from other things too) that I failed to put a strainer in the master bathroom shower.  I had swapped out the one that was there and put that in the master bathroom sink, and I was going to toss the one that was in the master bathroom sink because it was getting all clogged up.  Somehow, I forgot to grab a new one (or an old one -- get this, My Father takes the time to unclog strainers in order to re-use them.  Yes, it saves money, and I put one of those cleaned ones in the shower, but I feel like this is a First World privilege that we should indulge in -- don't scrape shit off of a strainer, they're only two bucks apiece!), and worse than that, I put the plastic strainer that goes on top of the strainer back where it was, as if I had already put that second strainer back in.

Worst of all is I don't remember how long ago this all was.  I think, though, that it had to have been at least a month, and possibly it's been longer than that.  Lord knows how much of my hair and dead skin was able to get through that's currently clogging up the pipes.  Dammit, man, how could I forget something like that?  I had an entire process I needed to do, and I just stopped halfway through it.  What the hell was I thinking?

I Make Bad Choices

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

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

I make bad choices.

Tax Form Filling-Out OCD

I'm trying to finish doing my taxes, and I keep making mistakes on these forms.  Not big, mathematical ones, but, like, one digit wrong in the tens place, or writing the amount on the wrong line.  My OCD is kicking in big-time, so I keep printing out forms and doing them, only to fuck up again so I reprint more.  I have printed them out at work, which I know is frowned upon.  I also have printed them at the library, where I am typing this blog post right now, but it's 20 cents a copy, which is why I printed them at work while I was at work.

This library sometimes has free copies of the main forms, like the 1040, lying about, which is great and another reason why the Twin Cities is a good, moral place to live in.  But I fucked it up, again, and I'm tired of re-doing it, so I am just going to give the federal government the 1040 where I wrote a whole amount on the wrong line.  Even my OCD, as bad as it fucking is right now, has limits.  Besides, I just printed out another form and I think I did it completely right, so yay, me, be happy with that one win.

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 Continue To Miss Soccer Goals

I've started my day on Apple TV watching the MLS Toronto-Colorado Match while thinking up what I want to blog post about.  And with the Rapids up 2-0 and this being, well, soccer, I let my attention wander, both to my phone and also to this laptop.

I have spoken before about missing Goals because I was looking at my phone.  Well, Toronto scored while I was looking at my lap (specifically theoretical high-speed rail networks in the Midwest), then they tied it up while I was looking at my The Athletic app.  And I'll be goddamned: That is when I finally got the inspiration to blog post, and as I started this blog post, TFC scored again to take a 3-2 lead.

This would have been a sensational Game to pay attention to.  Instead, I saw none of the three Goals of this comeback, and right now, I want to kill myself.

Best Sleep I Ever Had ... Most Awkward Morning I'll Ever Have

Work was hell yesterday.  They were short-staffed at data entry, so the person who would've helped me in The Third Department was keying most of the day.  Thank goodness she was able to help out near the end of the day; there were stacks of papers that allowed tests to be processed, and honestly, I had so much other shit I needed to do that all of that stuff would not have gotten done.  That's a lot of tests that would've waited till today, and people would not have been happy.

Still, I was busy with my own shit.  I knew before coming in to work yesterday that we would be short-staffed.  I had plans yesterday to eat dinner, then go see roller derby.  But leaving work on Thursday all tired and ragged, I was afraid that I wouldn't have time between work and roller derby yesterday, so I broke my planned edict not to spend any money on Thursday and ate dinner (and grab that free birthday ice cream cup) at Culver's.  And, sure enough, I had to stay an extra couple hours at work, so once I decided I hate to shut things down, I immediately went to roller derby, which was an excellent time featuring a championship bout where one team came back from, like, 40 points down in the First Half to take the lead late, only to lose by two Points at the end.

I ate at roller derby, and since this was in a good part of town to eat, I ate a knockoff Taco Bell crunchwrap close by.  And then coming home I was listening to Duke's buzzer-beater over LSU in the Women's Tournament Regional Semifinal.  It was 11:30 by the time I got to my bed, and I think my body was telling me to go to bed.  I figured if I'm not that tired, I would wake up from a nap.

But I didn't.  I woke up when normal people wake up, around 8 or so.  I didn't expect to have a full night's sleep, and at a time when you "should," but I did and I feel really good, of course.

Then, I felt really good.  Part of me going to bed easily was because I wanted to avoid the news about whether Tennessee lost to Iowa St.  I had the Volunteers winning, and it was an important pick to keep my bracket alive for the big, big money.  I saw a skeet that Tennessee was up by one at halftime, but that was it.  I knew I had to finally find out the final (if only because I had to post on Facebook about it), so I looked at my Yahoo! Sports app ... and I saw that they blew out the Cyclones in the Second Half and won going away!  Yippee!!!

Quick update on my bracket: I went 7-0 in Round 3.  I still have Arizona, Duke and Michigan in Round 4, and I think I still am in contention for winning it all.  Out of a thousand people (give or take), I went from a tie for 15th to, get this, fourth.  I think there's a way for me to end up on top, but a lot of things have to break my way.  Meanwhile, there are so many entries that there's one guy who picked Illinois and Tennessee in the Final Four, and he's right up there at the top of the leaderboard with me.

---

And now the other shoe drops: No Kings.  Everybody's going.  Well, everybody but me.  I decided this week not to go.  There is work because they are short-staffed today as well.  And, call me paranoid, but I know that there is surveillance from the federal (don't know about the state) government going on.  I walk on the State Capitol, where everybody is, and there's no telling whether there's going to be a drone recording all of our faces.

I hate that I'm thinking this way.  I hate that I'm chickening out and using work as an excuse, and I am.  I am getting total FOMO right now, and the rallies haven't even started yet, because, even though it's been mentioned in many places, the No Kings March in St. Paul is going to be recognized as The Flagship No Kings March.  Out of the thousands of protests that are and will be going on around the world, it'll be ours in St. Paul regarded as the touchstone.  Senator Bernie Sanders will be there.  So will Bruce Springsteen.  And the more I write about this, the more I regret not going.

And the worst thing about this is the text I got on Messenger.  One of my friends, who has been talking to me off and on about this current installed government, just asked me if I was going.  She, of course, is going, and more power to her.  But I don't know how to tell I'm not going.  We've talked about how much we hate this government and are trying to figure out how to rebel against them.  Surely I would go to something like this, right?  No.  And I don't know how to tell her.

I think she's waiting on an answer.  Maybe I'll take a shower and think up something.  How awkward.

Where My Scatterbrained Stupid Self Pretty Much Fucked Everything Up

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

---

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

Sign Of Inattention Or Sign Of Old Age?

I'm just so mad at myself for fucking up the Horse's Neck I made for myself.

I should back up.  I didn't plan on drinking alcohol yesterday/Thursday.  I should blog post about it soon.  Anyway, I went to Hooters because I wanted to use the March coupon before the chaos of them closing down on Sunday.  The chaos has already begun, however.  I just wanted a Coke, but they didn't have it.  Guess there's no use to order more stuff if they're closing down in three days, but I thought they would still have Coke.  (I'm going back before they close for good Sunday evening.  Let's hope they still have running water.)

Anyway, I didn't want a Sprite to go with the wings and swirl cake I purchased, and I didn't want to just have water.  So, with a bit of regret, I got an Angry Orchard, which they still have.  And since I got one alcoholic drink to drink, I might as well have another one, and I decided on a Horse's Neck because the ginger ale in the fridge has been in there for a long while.

I rely on the International Bartenders Association formula for a Horse's Neck, which is 40 mL (they're international) of cognac and 120 mL of ginger ale in a Collins glass.  That's a ratio of three parts ginger ale to one part cognac, right?  That's important for the story.

So I pour out 40 mL from the ABK6 into a small measuring cup I use instead of a jigger because The Wirecutter recommends it.  Then I pour the Boylan ginger ale to the maximum line, which on this measuring cup is 60 mL.  I add it to the Collins.  I pour to the max again.  I add it to the Collins.  Then I pour to the max a third time, because it's a 3:1 ratio, right?  I assumed I had enough ginger ale, so I was shocked that I was short by 10 mL.  I thought I should maybe use ginger beer to top it off, but fuck it, it's late in the day and I have work in the morning, I'll just have to deal with drinking a messed-up cocktail.

I don't have a huge Collins glass.  It might not be a Collins glass.  But some drinks require a long, rectangular-looking glass, and that's what I have.  And for all the cocktails I can make that require them to be stirred, they all fit into this glass.  But this one was different.  Even though I was short of the 3:1 ginger ale-to-cognac ratio, the last pour of ginger ale brought the cocktail right to the rim.  That's odd.  I'm pretty sure past Horse's Necks I've made weren't that full.

And then I realized I fucked it up.  I was fixated on the 3-to-1 ratio, but I completely forgot about dealing with the actual fucking numbers.  Forty times three is 120.  I just needed to pour the ginger ale out to the max twice, not three times, to get the formula right.  But no, I poured out the cognac once (and not even up to the top at 60 mL, just two-thirds of the way at 40 mL), so I had to pour the ginger ale thrice.  That's how my mind operated.  It's probably how it operates.  And I fucked it up.

---

Later I played Zynga Poker.  I continually make the mistake of misjudging what kind of a hand I have.  I play speed-up, so I only have, like, ten seconds to fold, call or raise, and I still make a decision without completely understanding what I actually have.  A few times I actually think I have a better hand than I do, but more often than not I think it's an OK hand when it's, like, an ace-high straight or a full house.  I didn't see I had a full house on this one hand and I could have taken the other "players" in my table to the cleaners if I had accurately seen that.

Pairing my poker blindness with blowing the Horse's Neck, I don't know if me not paying attention is symptomatic of my old age.  I have been not paying attention all my life, and yet I can't help but think that if I were younger, I would have gotten the formula right, and I would be much quicker at deducing what type of poker hand I've got.

If it's old age, I don't know what to do.