Is It Worth Dealing With Traffic?

I am at to this library that's not close but close enough.  But I have to use the highway to get there.

While driving here, I see the traffic on the highway coming back completely backed up.  There are road crews that are doing something that requires shutting down the left-most lane.

Thing is, I see all this and have chances to take exits that get me home right away without getting stuck in all that.  I didn't take them.  I didn't turn around.  I figure I can just go on Google Maps and they'll find a way of getting me home.  But if not, I am driving the old minivan and will be stuck on the highway for a while, looks like.

So why am I going to the library?  Well, to blog post on my day off.  But also to sharpen my pencils.  This is the only public place I know close to me that has a public pencil sharpener.  I'm going to see Ohtani and the Dodgers play tonight/Wednesday night and I need to sharpen my pencils to score the Game.  That is enough for me to drive out here and sit in traffic on the way back.  Or am I being foolish?

I Want To Know When I Need To Go Into Work, That's All

Now, I preface this by saying that I'm blog posting this due to unusual circumstances, namely that my co-worker is going to be out for a while because she is hurting in a big way, though I don't specifically know why or how.  One would think that would be an acceptable reason to see one's schedule change, even though that would mean a change in time you start your shift, like my job does.

But most of the time -- and again, I'm not blaming anyone, this rises only to the level of annoyance -- I don't know what I'm doing at work, and therefore I don't know what time I need to get in, sometimes until my last day of my workweek (usually Friday), and sometimes I don't know until I get in to start my workweek (usually Monday).  Beyond knowing what time I need to get in and thus knowing what time I need to set my alarm, I would want to know what I'm doing -- whether I'm doing data entry, I'm in The Third Department, or The Fourth -- before next week starts so I can get into the right frame of mind.  Each different position requires doing different things, obviously, and I want to know what I'm expected to do each day of the week before that week begins.  Again, I understand I might not know when I want to know.  Things come up, such as my co-worker being in traction for a while.  Also, my boss is real busy.

But when things change on me, I have to alter my plans.  Let me be selfish and rant here.  I was given my work schedule for this week on Friday.  There, I was supposed to come in to work early on Friday only.  And considering we have been asked to stay beyond our shift to key almost on a regular basis since, oh, the year started, my plan was to work a bit extra yesterday/Tuesday, go to the post office downtown, mail my taxes, then celebrate by going to a fancy restaurant downtown.

My co-worker being out injured switched around my entire week.  Now, my early day was, actually, yesterday/Tuesday.  And while I had to stay a bit after to get all the data entry done, I got done before the post offices (at least the ones here) closed at 5.  That meant I didn't have to pay for parking downtown to file my taxes at the downtown post office, which closes at 8.  Yeah, that could be seen as a good thing.  But I don't like it when my plans are changed for me, even if it means I could get home earlier than I thought and wouldn't have to pay for parking, which is a huge pet peeve of mine.  I spent a substantial portion of my workday wondering if I should just go to downtown anyway, even though I would be there way earlier than I thought.  Ultimately, though, the facts that I could mail my taxes before the conventional workday was over and could do it without paying for parking convinced me I should move this dinner at the fancy restaurant, which I was looking forward to, to another day.  (I also realized that the Twins were playing at Target Field last/Tuesday night.  I don't think they're getting any crowds, even though they're playing quite well right now, but I didn't want to risk any chance of losing my temper over traffic.)

However, having my evening freed up invited another opportunity I had to spend some mental bandwidth contemplating: Working out.  I haven't been to my gym in weeks, and after bellyaching over, well, my aching belly after eating so much while watching the WNBA Draft Monday night, this might be a sign that I could, and should, work out.  But I remembered I also had a plan of finishing off the two ginger beers that have been open for weeks in a dark 'n' stormy.  Not knowing what to do, I decided to go home after eating dinner at a mom-and-pop Mexican restaurant and try and sleep.  If I couldn't lose consciousness in half an hour, I'd get up and work out.  Instead, I woke up around 7:30.  I walked up and down the street for exercise instead.  And I drank my cocktail.

Still feel kind of bad I haven't gone to the community center.  But that's what happens when your work schedule changes on you.

Ah, Men Who Aren't

So Saturday night, after working the Gopher football Game, I was hanging out with a couple dudes downtown who saw our alma mater's football Game.  They left, but I wanted to hang out a little while longer.

I was standing up scrolling through my phone.  I was the only one of this table that had three chairs; although it was busy, there were other tables around me.  One that was occupied was occupied by a lot of people.  I didn't notice that another person joined them.  He apparently wanted a chair.  He saw the one that was next to me.  And he just took it, and used it to sit down with his friends.

No, he didn't ask me.  And he should've.  Sure, I wasn't using it.  But it was obvious that it was a chair that was at a table I was at, so a quick, "Hey, you using this?" would have sufficed.  That was too much to ask of this guy, who sat his incel ass down and, I think, began scrolling through his phone.

---

It was a bear to drive down the Megamall Black Friday.  The on-ramp to the first highway I hit was backed up, the drive into The Lowry Tunnel was backed up, and my God, the traffic to park at MOA was backed up for half a mile.

I finally parked.  I'm walking in, and I hear these clomping footsteps behind me.  There's this tall White dude who has this IDGAF attitude coming up behind me.  I fling the first door open for him; he keeps it open while not saying thanks.  At this point he's about to clip my heel with his toe, so I open the second door for him.  He doesn't say thanks; he just keeps striding, almost leaving what looks to be his kids in his dust.  I sarcastically give him the thumb's up; it's only comeback I can think of to let him know what I feel about his fast, intrusive walking.

---

There has been a school of thought that video games cause violence.  That idea has been debunked by researched a long time ago, even though I think a lot of people still cling to the notion.  But there has been very small evidence that video games cause aggression.  There are some studies that note a correlation, especially in the short term.

I'm going to be so bold as to believe that video games do cause aggression, and not just in the short term.  I think that the advent of video games coincide with societal coarseness.  I believe that more people have become dicks since video games became popular.  I will go out on a limb that these two arrested development motherfuckers play them, and as a result have no manners and go about life thinking everything's about them, they don't have to wait their turn, and they do whatever they want, fuck everybody else.  A lot of people are like that now, in this country and around the world.  And that's also partially why Trump's in office -- well, that and Russian interference (which Trump asked for, which is illegal) and Musk and social media (also illegal).  And while aggression isn't the same as violence, the former can easily bleed into and beget the latter.  That would be a correlation, wouldn't it?

People scoff at calls to ban or limit video games from the youth until their brains are more fully developed.  Those calls have been proposed to curb violence.  I'm going to say it: Maybe video games should be limited as a way to curb aggression, and then that curb on aggression can lead to a curb in violence.  All things are connected to each other, and in a world that is going mad and is hellbent on screwing the little guy, maybe we need to think about doing that.  Then, maybe these supposedly "frustrated" boys will actually grow the fuck up.

I Have To Admit -- I'm Really Starting To Resent Them Coming Here

Yeah, it's the disruption, the (kind of) lack of privacy, and, once again, my sister's need to make things all about her.  She gets that way sometimes, but mostly on big occasions where she's the center of attention, and it pisses me off.

The last time she was here she wanted all the suitcases we have stowed in her bedroom out of her bedroom, and she wanted all her bedsheets washed.  Now, I think normal family members would of course do that for her, and wouldn't need prompting.  I am not normal.  I could sleep in dusty bedsheets for all I care.  I just need a clean damn bed.  But no, she wants what she and my brother-in-law are going to sleep in all clean and fresh-smelling, even if they're only going to be here a week and a half.

And I think I touched on this before, but this dinner in St. Paul on Sunday is really grinding my gears.  First of all, my sister wants to use my car, and I'm going to give it to her.  Also, it seems really damn inconvenient for one group of people who are staying in this house to go out to St. Paul and then have the people who live in the same house go out to St. Paul later that same day.  And then my folks told me on Saturday that the minivan, the vehicle I will purportedly be using whenever my sister and brother-in-law want to use my car, had its headlights short out.  I had to buy them on Amazon; they might get here before they get here, and they might not.  And on top of all that, I realized that the Wild are playing in St. Paul on Sunday, and around the same time as the early dinner.  I am not that familiar with St. Paul, and now I have to worry about getting stuck in hockey traffic, too??

Once I realized the minivan had no night lights and I'd have to deal with Wild traffic on Sunday, I obsessed over it all day at work yesterday/Monday -- like, distractingly so.  I really do love my sister and brother-in-law, and I really want to spend some time with my niece, who is the reason my sis and bro-in-law are taking my car on Sunday.  But I hate, hate, hate these dinner plans the more I learned what I have to deal with.  I could feel my body well up with rage and anxiety and dread and helplessness because I feel forced to do something I really, really don't want to do.

And then it hit me: If I don't want to go, don't go.  At first that thought was insane.  I don't see my niece a whole lot as it is.  If I don't see her on this opportunity, I don't know when I'll see her again.  Also, has she noticed how seldomly I see her?  If I make the decision not to go, well, she has to know, and what will she think of me?  But as I kept thinking yesterday ... you know, my sister did raise the idea that I didn't have to go.  And I am such an incorrigible bastard that I might say, yeah, screw it, I'll see you guys some other time, tell my niece I say hi.  Frankly, I'm leaning that way right now.  It is selfish and self-centered of me, but once I started being more accepting of that decision, a weight was lifted off of me.  And I would do anything for peace of mind, even ditching family.

So I texted her my concerns.  I asked her if our parents wanted to go to dinner and she said yeah.  Guess I should have talked to them directly since, you know, I live with them.  Anyway, my thoughts are moot if they want to go; I can't not go if they're going.  Then again, their desire to go to dinner on Sunday may be moot if Amazon can't deliver these headlight bulbs in time.  (Yes, they can go to a store to get them, but Father did that on Saturday, and he's so goddamn cheap that when I told him we could get bulbs through Amazon for less than half the price he got them at Wal-Mart, he immediately went back and returned them.)  My sister couldn't foresee this shitshow, but in a shitshow like this, maybe this isn't a good idea, you know?  But these fucking plans are going through, and I have to be the dutiful brother/son and just fucking fall in line, no matter the stress and stupidity of the whole thing.

Goddamn Sun In My Eyes Weather

I do love autumn, but this is the time of the year where the sun rises just as I am getting to work.  And since I primarily have to head east to get to work, the fucking Sun is in my eyes.  It's on everybody else's eyes, too, and that's why I think traffic is so backed up nowadays: Everyone has to drive slower because they can't fucking see.  I know the cycle of the sunrise is going to change, but dammit, I hope it changes soon, because I am going to other burn my eyes out, get into a crash, or both.

Don't Give A Fuck About The Debate -- I'm Still Ridin' With Biden

So I hear Biden lost the debate last night because he looked old and enfeebled.  DO I HAVE TO FUCKING REMIND YOU THAT TRUMP IS A CONVICTED FELON?!?!?!  It doesn't matter if Biden's eyes rolled up into his head and was just blowing up spit bubbles.  No, I didn't watch the debate because I don't want to blow my head off, at least not yet.  But Trump was just spewing bullshit for 90 minutes.  And he "won" because he looked confident while Biden looked weak?  There are times when spinning chicken shit into chicken salad is a good thing.  Trying to become President isn't one of them.

This is a crisis point for Biden, unfortunately.  Apparently there is a lot of pressure on him right now to step down.  That ain't gonna happen because who's going to replace him at this point?  Anyway, however he is now reflecting on what I guess is a consensus ass performance, he shouldn't step down.  Let cooler heads prevail.  Think.  Understand that Biden has a positive record.  Also understand that Biden isn't an asshole ... AND THE NOMINEE FOR THE REPUBLICAN PARTY IS A CONVICTED FELON, AND AN ASSHOLE.

Don't make any rash decisions.  I remember when that stripper lied to me, and as I approached the house she was who I didn't think she was, and I drove away, but not before she threatened me through text.  I had a thought that she was going to "get" me, and so I thought about just wandering into oncoming traffic to end it all.  But I didn't, because I didn't want her to "win."  So I didn't do anything rash.  I breathed.  I slept on it.  And I survived, both the incident and, myself.  (Have I blog posted about this?)

I suggest we all do the same.  Republicans are still fascists, and I'm not going to agree to give up my country because Biden sucked one night.  He can suck in the next debate and I'll still vote for Biden because I won't vote for Republican cocksuckers like Trump.  People who give a fuck about this country had better think the same way.

Will The Van Get Me To My Fuck Session?

So I was finally able to snag a time to see and, after more than a year, fuck ****e.  God, I haven't had my dick sucked in a long time.  And I need to feel my cock sinking into someone who's willing to take me inside her.

Obviously I can't wait.  The last time I fucked her was, I think, August of 2021.  She's been both everywhere and a ghost, so I will try and catch up with what she's been doing the past 26 months.  With that being said, I have committed to having both dinner and a game night with two separate factions of the local ... group of smart people I'm a part of.  The dinner is in Edina, the game night is around my neck of the woods.  It'll be a pain in the ass to go down to the other side of town and back a second time in a day (even though, for the record, yesterday/Thursday I went downtown twice, once in the afternoon to get my shoes shined and then in the evening for the Ravi Coltrane concert at the Dakota), especially since ****e lives in Burnsville.

I don't want to use just one car to traverse all around the metro area when I have another one at my disposal.  But since going to this dinner (it's a buffet salad bar ... intriguing) will have me stuck in the middle of afternoon rush, I am taking my parents' minivan to see and fuck ****e.  I have actually driven the van that far to her house before; some time in the intervening 26 months since I fucked ****e, I drove down there to see if she was actually there and she just didn't want to talk to me.  I got intimidated when I saw the open garage door and what appeared to be a man rummaging in there.  I have also put air in all the tires and made sure there's enough oil and coolant in there.  (When I changed the battery, I thought the antifreeze was low; turned out I wasn't looking close enough and it wasn't, and I overfilled it.  I hope to God I'm not hurting the van.)  Nevertheless, it's a very old van, and it would be just my luck if, Buddha forbid, it starts to overheat or something.  I'm just using the van as a straight shot there and back, and it'll help that I don't think I'll be driving during times I'll run into traffic.  But I cannot see and screw ****e as much as I want because she lives so damn far away from me.  Considering my choice to use the older work van is another potential way something could go wrong.

But I want to be positive.  I need my penis to be physically stimulated, and I will drive to the ends of the earth with an overheating 30-year-old jalopy if I get the opportunity.  I just hope that all will be OK.

Changes Coming To Lyndale, Big Changes

Just went to Caffetto to go through my receipts.  Hadn't been there in a couple weeks.  It was largely empty, which meant I could find a table, thank God.  There were times when I couldn't, and though I appreciate Caffetto having good business, that meant I couldn't find a table.  Caffetto is more a winter place than a summer place, though, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised I had a place all to myself.

To park, I nowadays park out on the street, about a block away.  It's free, although I park on Lyndale, which gets plenty busy.  The bike lane is another buffer from all the cars that whizz by, but I still am kind of scared that a car will hit me.  Also, it ain't the safest place.  I try to go there in the nighttime, which is often the right time to go down there and work on my computer, but there is an underlying level of unsavoriness which keeps my antennae up -- well, that and all the traffic.  And maybe trying to find a spot at the coffeeshop, which is more of nighttime place than a daytime place.

That might be changing, however.  The place I park in front of had been a uniform store, but it closed down (I want to say) about a year ago, maybe more.  But the property has been bought by this restaurant and business called Baba's Hummus.  I first heard of them during the 2021 Minnesota State Fair.  They were a new vendor there, and their Chili Baba was The Best New Food Of The Fair that year.  And they have redone that store to where it is about ready to open.  I hadn't been at Caffetto, or that area of Lyndale, in about ... oh, I want to say a month, maybe three weeks.  But the last I went to have coffee there, it was still a boarded-up dump.  I don't know how they did it, or how quickly or well, but it's a brand-spanking new restaurant and market.  So much so that I'm now scared I won't be able to park there anymore.  And then I won't be able to hang out at The Best Coffeeshop In The Twin Cities.

The place's grand opening, which was initially planned for the summer, then delayed to the fall, has now been brought back up to Saturday.  I will go ... to see if I can park where I usually park.

Some Narcissism Is Healthy

So I got into work yesterday/Monday and got hit with a triple punch of stuff that cheezed me off.  First, I got in (technically) a minute late, a factor mainly because of some rare-for-post-pandemic Monday morning traffic, although I didn't have a good night's rest and was late getting out the door.  I burned my hand getting coffee; that damn vending machine nozzle is still so gunked up the coffee sprays out all askew.

But what really grinded my gears was yet another "this is how you fucked up" e-mail from my boss.  Now, I don't want to say that he's mean.  He wasn't, and I understand he was doing his job.  I guess this is my fault and thus my responsibility to do better.  Still, I don't take criticism well.  There were two things I did wrong.  Without getting into specifics, one was a case where I was too cautious when it turns out I didn't have to.  This particular situation should have raised a red flag under a condition I flat-out don't understand, and I think I need to take this up with my supervisor.  The other one was some out-of-nowhere situation that came to me via e-mail, and it might as well have been in Tagalog.  I know that when I have asked my supe about e-mails that come out of the blue, she has often told me to not worry about.  Well, my boss told me I should have done something about it.  That is new as hell to me, so new that I am liable to do it again.  So he then brought up the catch-all solution, which is basically, "If you see something you don't understand, tell one of us."  OK.  Like I said, I have had success just ignoring something because it didn't feel as though it concerned me, but fine.

My ire was raised because I have been told to worry about something I had no idea I needed to worry.  That unfairness really got to me yesterday morning.  I realized I was spiraling into some bad thoughts that I had to snap myself out of.  Then I remembered that I had a job to do (even though, for the record, I had very little work for a Monday.  I got out of there about a half-hour over shift.  I have never done that before on a Monday).  And then I looked over at my supervisor, who was filling in herself.  She was CC'd on this e-mail, and I thought that if these two matters were important enough, she would reinforce what my boss said.  But no, she was just minding her own business.  And that's when I realized that, well, I didn't have to give a fuck about this e-mail if I didn't want to.  Shit, I could just ignore it if I wanted.  And that's when I calmed down.

I think back at all the times I received e-mails from my boss or, well, lectures from my supervisor about what I did wrong in The Fourth Department.  And it would always get my dander up and bring me down.  Sometimes it would affect me all day.  But going on five years total in this job (and maybe three doing work back there), I haven't been fired yet.  I get into this dark place after receiving criticism where I have the mindset of, "Well, if they think I do a shitty job, then I might as well save me any stress and continue to be shitty at it, and if they fire me, fuck it!"  I continue to think that someone -- maybe my boss, maybe someone above him -- is keeping score of my mistakes, and then one day the accumulation of those fuck-ups will reach a point where my boss will just have to shitcan me.  But that hasn't happened yet.  So why am I sweating this?

And beyond that, just ignoring these communiques as if they never existed may be a form of survival.  I think there is some credence that if you think you won't do a good job, you won't do a good job.  Could the converse be true?  Thinking you will do a good job is a positive mindset, and I think (or at least I believe) that thinking positively will lead to better work, not to mention a better day for you at work.  It is thus tempting, then, to not even think about the negativity brought on by corrective e-mails such as the one I got -- "Nope, my boss didn't send it!  Didn't happen!  It's out of my mind ... what do I do next?"  There is an obliviousness, maybe even an arrogance, to thinking you haven't done anything wrong.  But maybe that's how I should think in order to be both productive and happy.

(By the way, later that morning I realized that my boss is off for most of the week.  Don't have to see him until Friday, and by then, assuming I keep my positive mindset, I would've forgotten about all this.)

That frame of mind might only last until the next e-mail I get from him on how I screwed up, and it might be a mistake he said I've done before.  But I don't think it's productive getting all upset and seething about those criticisms, especially if it doesn't look like I'll lose my job over it.  So why in the hell am I beating myself up?  I think it's healthier for me to act as if I'm doing nothing wrong, like a narcissist!

Fuck This Rude And Impatient Prick, Part I

There are just some things, some people, and things people do that piss me off.  Like, so piss me off that I think that people who do those things should die.  People who weave in and out of traffic -- mostly on cars but motorcyclists anger the fuck out of me too -- are one.  People who weave in and out of crowds are another.

I was at a United Match a few weeks ago, and Allianz Field is typically buzzing with people before the Match begins.  I usually hang back and pick my spots -- you know, where there are open pockets in a long train of lines going one way or the other.  No need to be a pushy dick, especially if you can't go anywhere.

But as I was waiting for my moment, this piece of shit comes from behind, darts into a little hole right in front of this couple, and starts slithering through the teeming crowd.  He didn't care about things like manners or space; no, this motherfucker just wanted to get to where he wanted to get to, and he wanted to go there now, goddammit.

And so that fucking red mist just descended in front of my eyes.  It's the same one that convinces me I have to catch up with a fucking driver that cut me off.  And so fuck finding a pocket -- I'll be bumping and pushing people down in order to get to this asshole.

And I kind of did.  Well, sort of.  He weaseled his way to the bathroom, a place I was going to go to, but, you know, I wasn't going to be a dick ...

---

... and hey, I just got back from helping out Mother with something I think was a waste of time, and the mental energy I needed to expend was so depleting that I want to leave right now.  I'll finish this blog post up later.  I think.  Sorry.

Sorry, Booker T

I want to see Booker T. Jones at the Dakota tonight.  Two shows, 6 and 8.  Really want to go, even if the only thing I know from him is "Green Onions."  But I'm not.  A lot of it is I'm worried about the crowd for the Timberwolves Game, even though it tips off at 8:30 and, as I type this a bit after 5, there could be a lull in downtown because the Twins finished their Win 60-90 Minutes ago.  But I can't be sure it won't be teeming with fans, say, doing a Twins-Timberwolves double.  Besides, lot parking is going to be through the roof regardless, and I'm not sure if I can find meter parking, and even if I do, I'm scared to parallel park without the back-up camera from my car.  I should man up and refresh myself on how to do that with my parents' minivan, but I don't want to.

I'll admit that I'm also scared that a beat-up vehicle like the minivan will get stolen downtown.

Really, however, I'm scared as hell that if I drive the minivan too much, it'll break down.  It's a tough car, I'll tell you that, and I have to remind myself that I had the water pump and brake pads replaced just over a year ago.  And yet it does have 280,000 miles on it, so really, anything could happen, and if it does, I'll have two cars, neither of which work.  That would fucking suck.

There are many good, real reasons not to go, at least not this time around.  But I'm fighting the urge to fight that urge, if that makes any sense, to "be courageous" and not worry about the car (which I probably don't have to do; putting my anxiety aside, I am fairly certain it won't break down if I drove it downtown), and enjoy myself.  YOLO and all that.  There are also reasons not to see him, either.  Tickets are expensive to see a guy for whom you know only one song, albeit a classic and even though you won't know if he's going to come around again (Mr. Jones seems to be of good health, knock on wood).  Of the two shows, the earlier show is the more expensive; $50-5 is pricey.  The late show is ten bucks cheaper, but of course I'll be facing the teeth of T-Wolves traffic, so that's out.  I just hate the feeling that I don't get to decide not to do something because circumstances prevent me from doing it.  If my car were totally fine and I still didn't want to see Booker T. Jones, I would be OK with it.  But I feel as though my decision is influenced by not having my car to use.  You know what I mean?

Regardless of my real reasons, sorry, Booker T, but I'll catch you next time -- when my car is reliably healthy and when there's nothing going on downtown.  Hope to see you then, sir.

You know, I thought I was going to blog post about being rude to this person at work who I think was rude to me several months ago, or blog post about possibly being stopped at a red light where I wasn't supposed to and having so many people pissed at me.  But I just saw that there's another goddamn leak from the water pipe in the basement.  Fuck me.

Christmas 2021 Thoughts

Before sitting down on my laptop in the dining room, I looked out through the small window to my left.  It is cloudy; I don't see the sun penetrating through at all.  The steam is coming up and through my neighbors' chimney, so it is cold.  (Just checked: 20 degrees as I type this.)  This is a perfect winter/Christmas Day.  I should appreciate it.

---

I have resumed my Christmas Eve tradition of going to South Minneapolis to partake in Scotch and Irish whiskey.  Driving home, I wanted to note how quiet it was on the road, but that was hard to tell.  First of all, I don't remember how traffic was like in previous Christmas Eves/Days, probably because I didn't make a point of noting it.  Saying that, I think it was as quiet as it would be on a late weeknight, and quieter than a weekend night.  Now, last night was a Friday night, so compared to a usual Friday night, last night was extremely quiet.

Unfortunately, there were a couple pricks who took advantage of the relatively quiet highway and drove like maniacs.  I believe what they said was true: The beginning of the pandemic emboldened some people into driving faster and more recklessly because there were fewer drivers out on the roads, and they haven't stopped even after the worldwide lockdown was lifted.  Hrmph.

---

I may have spoken about this before, but even if I have, I'll say it again.  Ever since, oh, Black Friday, I have kind of anticipated/girded myself over the coming of Christmas.  But when I sat down to my, oh, second dram of whiskey, seeing the last minutes of Christmas Eve melt away, I was already looking past Christmas to the last week of the year, New Year's, and then, well, what is coming in 2022.  I don't want to call Christmas an "obstacle"; I really am enjoying waking up when I want, doing what I want, and not opening up the door even one time.  But this is The Most Important Holiday Of The Year, and yet once the clock struck midnight, and really even at the 11 o'clock hour of Christmas Eve, I felt as though Christmas Day was already over.  I kind of feel it even now; listening to the holiday songs, for example, seem kind of out of place, even though it is Christmas Day.  Maybe Christmas Eve is more important that Christmas Day -- maybe?

---

I'll select a song later tonight.  Hope it won't feel too late.  But I am going to make spaghetti now.

Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas, everyone.

No Burger For Me

After having a hell of a full meal for dinner tonight, I decided I wanted -- well, needed -- to exercise.  But first, a burger from Bebe Zito.  Yes, a burger after this full meal for dinner.  I am a hypocrite.

The exit from 694W to 94E was closed.  I had to stop before I realized that there was a truck there.  Well, I didn't hear about any road construction there.  Whatever; I'll take a detour -- the next exit, then I'll come back on 694, and I'll reach 94E that way.

I do that and then I see something I've never seen before: A huge stretch of cars on the right lane, and no cars in the other lanes.  As I crept up, however, I saw there was a mess of cars on those lanes further up the highway.  Fuck me.  That truck was keeping more cars from piling onto 94E.  But I got on there anyway, and I got stuck as fuck for about half an hour.

I didn't want to use my data -- I don't think I have enough to last me the next eight days or so -- but I had to find out just what the hell happened.  Well, a shooting happened.  Someone got shot around the Dowling exit, so as police were investigating the crime scene, all traffic was diverted to the exit north of Dowling.  Of course The Fates conspired to deny me a burger.

I finally turned around and, in defeat, I went to exercise.  But not before getting ice cream from Culver's.  Because I went through a lot tonight.

I've Been Running On Red Lately

Alright ... so this incident at my nighttime WFH test scoring job is still bothering me.  But I have to admit I've been a little pissy all week.  Can't put my finger on why exactly, but it's possible my attitude has colored how people perceive me, and how I perceive certain situations -- like that fucking snafu that happened last night.

Actually, I might be able to hone in on something.  It may not be the crux of my problems, but it's a problem.  I have gotten obsessed with leaving work -- in particular, I am now trying to avoid leaving when everybody else leaves.  That is around 3:30, when apparently the majority of people on my campus clock out.  In the past I have left when everybody else has left.  That creates a bottleneck of cars on the way out, as you could probably imagine.  But there's also this: Our buildings have only one way in and out.  So, when everybody's leaving at the same time, you can see sometimes half a dozen cars, maybe more, lining up where the end of the property line and the intersection meet.  And if there are enough cars, and if some of them don't get a move on, or if traffic coming from the other way stops them, we would move up and have to wait through yet another red light.  That's a goddamn hell when I don't have to hurry home.  When I have only so much time to eat and sleep before I start my second job, waiting for two and even three lights is unbearable and unacceptable.

So, what's my solution?  In the past, I have chosen to stay a bit later and let the wave of cars itching to leave pass by me so I don't have to go through the stress of waiting with other people.  But I can't do that while I have a night job, plus there are some weeks, such as this week, where I cannot get overtime, and therefore I have to make sure I top out at 40 hours or I will get in trouble.  So if I can't stay late and I don't want to leave when everyone else is, my current solution is to stay late on Monday, when there are fewer people at work so leaving just past 3:30 isn't that big a deal, and then make that up by leaving early the rest of the week.  I can beat the traffic leaving work -- right?

That's not happening this week.  For the past couple days I have been in the lab.  And the unwinding to get out of the lab -- it consists of putting things away, putting other things in other places, having someone open the door for me, then tossing the lab coat into a hamper -- is as long as a Japanese kabuki ritual.  It also does not make me look good when I leave earlier than other people in my group; not only are people thinking I'm skipping out from work, but the people in the lab really, really dislike getting out of their desks just so they can enter a code for one stranger to leave the lab because inevitably another stranger will ask to leave a minute later.  It takes time to find someone, then some more time to herd the other people in my group to amass at the door, before we can leave.

I thought I had built in enough time for all those contingencies, but for the past two workdays I have not been able to leave as early as I wanted.  Therefore, I am keyed up and I have been ... let's just say impatient with other people as I am trying to get out the door.  And by the time I start my car, I am in the thick of other people leaving simultaneously.  That gins up more feelings of bitterness and aggression in me, so I respond by gunning my car through the green light as soon as the coast is clear, even if my co-workers think they have the right-of-way.

That's what I've been doing this week because that is how I have been feeling this week.  Yes, this makes me look like a dick.  But since I've got shit to do, I want to get home as early as possible.  And yet what I have tried to do in order to get home as early as possible has not been enough, and it's upsetting me.  And unfortunately, this won't change unless I get OT or until my test scoring project is over.  I guess I could leave the lab even earlier, or not care about being stuck in the traffic on the way out of campus.  But that ain't me.  That might make it more difficult to deal with me.  But hey, I gotta be me.

Damn That Traffic Jam

One thing I have liked about the pandemic, and in particular the economic shutdown over the pandemic, is the decrease in traffic.  In the couple weeks before my hours were cut that shutdown began, and I noticed it in the lack of cars on the highway.  That helped me a lot, especially in the morning.  There is one right turn I need to make onto the street that marks the heavy traffic for morning rush, and if I don't get to the light before it turns red or before the cars on the cross-street stop making their lefts, I might be stuck there.  It can't be more than two Minutes, but it seems like 20.  And although I always try to find an empty spot I can turn and accelerate into, if I can't find it, my commute instantly becomes more aggravating.

There were no issues like that when I headed out in the morning to start my full day.  Coast was so clear, it nearly brought a tear to my eye.  And then my hours were cut and I started heading off at around 8 or 8:30 or 9 and ... even though I don't remember the last time my morning commute started then, there were even fewer cars on the road then.  So for the past two Months or so I have had no heart palpitations over being late for work.  (Well, I'm still late for work, but for the past couple Months it's because of me deciding to get and eat breakfast before getting to my company.)

I wonder if thing are going to go back to normal now.  I have to remember that two things changed: The cut in traffic because of the economic shutdown and the cut in my hours.  The latter may be restored, but the former may not be, at least not yet.  So, if I'm back to full-time but the rest of the state hasn't, that'll still be good for my commute.  But if not, and Minnesota is fully back to work?  Well, that short, quick, unimpeded drive to work in the morning was too good to last, I guess.

Crooked Hair, Crooked Hair

So I went to get my hair cut.  Turns out it's only been a month; I usually wait six-to-eight weeks.  Also, I wanted to get it cut before *****a came over to give me a handjob, but she said she could cum sooner, so I waited until after we fucked around to get it cut.  (All this information was not necessary; I'm just being a chatty Cathy.)

So I went to a Great Clips -- not my usual one, but one that was open till 9 and not 8 like the one I usually go to or most other haircutting places.  Maybe because it was so late in the evening, or maybe because it usually does not get customers like more high-trafficked places, there were no other customers until I walked in.  (I was at my usual Great Clips when *****a texted me she was free; there were two people who reserved spots, one of whom I was behind.)  And the woman who cut my hair was really, really nice.  A little bit of a flibbertigibbet, who only used the electric trimmer with one hand while the other one was dangling and not using a comb or anything, but she was really nice, and very accommodating when I decided I wanted the top cut shorter.

One problem: The more she went through my hair, and she spent a half-hour on it (longer than any haircut I can remember), the more nervous she became.  She said she had been working on men's hair for the past couple weeks, but she said men's hair was more complicated to her.  Then, she looked at my bangs and asked a question I didn't quite understand: "Do hair stylists usually line up the front for you?"  I didn't quite know what she meant, but I said yes because, well, why wouldn't I want the front of my hair lined up.

So she was finally finished and she stepped back to let me take a look.  And I noticed something: The brow of my new hairline is not even.  If you look from my left side to my right, it appears as though my hairline, as you travel across my forehead, recedes/goes up my forehead, then takes a corner turn sharper than the one on my left side, before going down to my right forehead.  I think I notice it now that I look in the mirror, but when I was on the chair, that asymmetrical outline was very noticeable, and I usually don't care how my hair looks.

How in the hell do I wind up with crooked hair?  These stylists went to the school so they don't do that, and they have to get certified by the state, too.  This shit isn't supposed to happen, right?  But it's on my head now, and when I go to work or out in public, and I ask someone a question, I just fucking know their eyes will dart up and notice the non-parallel line forming the boundary of my forehead and they'll think to themselves, "Dude, this dude has crooked hair!"  And they'll bully me.  Because some haircutter can't "line up" my bangs or some shit.  Fuck me. 

The Old Car Is At It Again

With my parents gone, I made a point of using the old car from time to time to make sure it goes through its paces and the engine gets used and the impurities in the oil get burned up.  It's not a great car, and it certainly has had its better days.  But ever since the fateful day five years ago when the head gasket blew up, it has driven pretty well.  I'm not aware of any of the problems that would have stressed me into immediately taking it into a shop, but I am believing that the car drives pretty well.

Well, not lately.

I will tell you this: It may have turned a corner (maybe temporarily, maybe not) about a month or so ago.  Besides acceleration issues and the tachometer not working (have I blogged about that?  No matter), the car gets me around town.  (My parents insisted we take this car when I dropped them off at the airport, and I'm still amazed it survived in one piece.)  However, one afternoon after work I was coming home from the bank.  It's afternoon rush, and I need to make a right turn.  After I nose myself to get a better look at oncoming traffic, I see that the car is just far enough away for me to make a run for it.  So I put the pedal down on the car.  Again, it doesn't accelerate well, but everything else about the car was just fine, so I thought I could push it a bit.

Turns out that seems to have been the wrong thing to do.  Ever since that moment the car has not been acting well.  It does get me around, but the performance has taken a sizable hit.  Not only does it not accelerate well, it appears to begin to shake around second or third gear (which is, like 40-50 mph).  And even though it may just be the cold, the shaking has also spread to uneven idling, which also did not happen (or at least did not happen as badly) before.

Oh, and it is still leaking, and possibly more so now.  Last night I started shoveling the few inches of snow we got and that I didn't bother to shovel just after it fell.  There are drops of ... fluid from old car, and so I made sure I parked it on top of snow so 1) the fluid would not seep into the asphalt driveway and 2) I could see what fluid it was based on the color.  I parked the old car (after getting home from exercising) at a different spot so I could see the drips.  And even though it was night, it looks as though the leak is colored red ... which means transmission ... which I kind of tortured when I accelerated fast in order to beat the oncoming traffic after my trip to the bank.

Wonder if I should tell my parents.  In the meantime, I cross my fingers every time I turn the car on.

Will I Miss Working Saturdays?

Today, Saturday, will be my last regular Saturday at work.  (I might work other Saturdays, but only if I'm asked, and only in exchange of time off another day or overtime.  In fact, this might be a not uncommon occurrence.)  Through a series of staff switches precipitated by one woman living her post because she wanted to live with her father in New England, a couple weeks ago I became the next-to-last domino to fall.  In short, I am moving not jobs, but shifts: I used to be Tuesday-Saturday, but as of Monday I will be on a, well, Monday-Friday schedule.

And I don't know if I like it.

I jumped at the chance because of what happened to me in the fall.  Well, football happens in the fall. Saturdays are when my alma mater plays Games (or, seeing their performance in the Holiday Bowl, "plays"), and I have had to take paid time off on several occasions to be there to run the event on time ... or, if it was too late for me to beg to take the day off, I would have to forgo the event until my shift was over and I would get there, usually, late in the Third Quarter.  That seems to wrong for the president of the club, and shifting to a normal workweek would obviously obviate that issue.

The pros take over Sundays.  I had worked at my day job on Sundays when the department was underemployed, but otherwise I was free to do the day work for Vikings telecasts I have done for the past 15 years.  However, there were opportunities, especially when the coordinator over the summer e-mailed me, to get work in as a runner on set days, aka the day before Game day.  I literally was offered the chance to work the day before seven of the eight Vikings home Games.  And I couldn't because my schedule at work had me penciled (more like "penned") in as an indispensable part of this or that department.  I couldn't take paid time off at my main job to maximize my hobby job, even if I have been at that hobby job for a decade and a half.  There was one exception: When I was sent this e-mail, the calendar only extended a few months, and I had the day before the Game against Detroit earlier this month open, so I did use paid time off for that Saturday before my boss would put me in a spot where I would feel I'm letting my team down if I said I wouldn't come in to work.  (This also allows me to get money from one job while actually earning money on another -- the "double dipping" I'm so fond of doing.)  That headache is gone now that I have my Saturdays ostensibly free.

And yet ... and yet I have to admit I've gotten used to working on Saturdays.  I might be used to it because, back when my brother and I were young, my parents forced us to help them at The Store.  So unusual work time frames are something I'm used to.  And this Tuesday-Saturday work schedule is something that I have gotten accustomed to.  The bulk of my duties at my job are data entry, and that's dependent on the forms that are delivered to us, and those depend on people coming and giving urine samples ... which are usually done in a normal, Monday-Friday schedule.  It takes a day for those samples to get here, so that is why most of the people in my main department work Tuesday-Saturday.

Data entry is boring, but at least I can listen to the radio while I do it.  Mondays are dependent on forms filled out on Sundays, and since most businesses aren't open on Sundays, there is relatively little data entry on Mondays.  So, as confirmed by my boss yesterday/Saturday, what usually happens is we go into the lab (the same lab I refused to go into to pad out the rest of my workday yesterday/Saturday) to process these other forms that ... well, I don't know when they come in, but my boss says that there is usually these types of forms to enter into the system in the lab on Mondays.  The rest of the day we go back out to the data entry department to enter the rest of the information from these "special" applications.

So the way he describes it, I'm sort-of terrified of what my Mondays will be like.  It's boring as hell in the lab; you cannot wear earphones while in there, although you can bring in a radio and blast it.  I have a satellite radio device, but I don't know if I can bring it in the lab.  If I can't, I have to rely on terrestrial radio, which is stultifying to listen to for four hours, or use my data and listen to Sirius XM over the phone, and that might drive me to my limit in no time flat.  I'm in a no-win situation there.

Also, I'm slow to do these forms, mostly because no one calls me out on it and I'm allowed to daydream.  I don't know if there is space for my pace to be scrutinized by higher-ups, but if so, I'll have to step to it, and I don't want to step to it.

Finally, my trepidation on working Mondays has an opportunity cost: What I lose by working Saturdays.  Take this Saturday, for example.  I am in ... let's just say I will be in the department where I am the only one.  I am left alone, no one is looking over my shoulder, I can work at my own pace, I can take breaks when I want, I can take my lunch nap whenever I want, and I can blast my satellite radio in there.  (Oh, and in that part of the building, my Sirius XM receiver has just about perfect reception; can't say that completely in data entry, and who knows if I can even get a signal if I'm stuck in the lab.)  If I'm working a Saturday there, it is just about bliss.  I usually am working in data entry, and it'll get mind-numbing to keep myself entertained (moreso when I get to the spring and summer when I can only listen to baseball), but even then, I don't truly mind it.  Plus, there's no traffic to fight on Saturdays, when there's all kinds of traffic to confront on Mondays.

The more I think about it, the more I am talking myself out of thinking this switch is a good idea.  Which brings me back to what I said about the "dominoes that fell."  See, that woman who left for New England had a filing job.  A supervisor in filing decided he no longer wanted to be a supervisor, so he took her job.  That left an opening for a supervisor, and a woman who has the same title as I finally decided that it was time to move up in rank, and she took that job.  Her job was Monday-Friday.  I'm taking over her schedule.  That naturally opened up my shift, Tuesday-Saturday.  And another guy who has the same job as I, who has a weird shift of 10-hour days from Saturday to Tuesday, is assuming my schedule.  (His four-day/ten-hours-per-day shift is probably going to be put in the classifieds.)

Do you see what I mean by dominoes falling?  It feels as though all of us are in an ordered chain, and so we all move up whenever a link is altered.  In other words, even though missing Saturdays this fall has been a pain in the ass, I felt kind of ... obligated to take this shift because it ... feels expected of me.  Otherwise, this four-day/ten-hours-per-day guy "leaps" over me to take Monday-Friday.  And he got hired after me.  (Well, he technically wasn't; he was laid off from this company even though he had spent many, many years there.)

So ... yeah, I don't know if this is the right decision.  I need to stay on these days for at least six months before I ask about doing something different.  Maybe this will grow on me.  Or maybe I will despise it so much that I'll ask the guy "behind" me if he wants to do Monday-Friday instead so I can re-take Tuesday-Saturday.  I hate the unknown and not knowing if I'm making the right decision.

Oh, Everybody Fucking Sucks This Week

So this girl at work, who I thought was real cool, acted like such a bitch when I came for work Tuesday.  It was the beginning of my work week, so it was difficult for me to get up, and then traffic got diverted because there was a new closure.  I got there in time, but she, out of nowhere, goes, "YOU'RE LATE!"  So?  You're dating a guy who stalked you from Ohio -- what the fuck's your point?"  Oh, and she's been kind of ignoring me ever since.  I gave her a compliment after she got her promotion this week and she blew me off.  Fuck you.

Oh, so this girl, who was a bitch to me when I started but mellowed out as the months went on ... well, she is now my new supervisor.  And the first thing she's been doing this week, her first week in her new job, is to point out every single goddamn thing I've done wrong.  Yeah-yeah-yeah, it's her job.  But bullshit she has to come down on me like this.  She's acting like a mediocre tough boss, that's what she is.  And then she's stupid enough to e-mail me about these goddamn errors with ALL CAPS.  STOP SHOUTING AT ME, GODDAMN YOU!!!  She did it not just once, but twice, when all I did was ask her a reasonable question.  STOP SHOUTING AT ME!!!  AND FUCK YOU AND YOUR ERROR MESSAGES FOR ME, TOO!!!

Oh, and My Fucking Mother went in on me this week, too.  Shit.  She asked for my help arranging a meeting with Medicare insurance brokers.  They've been going back and forth about time and date.  Well, I e-mailed this agent that my parents could her Thursday at 10.  After dinner, My Fucking Mother shouts from the basement for me.  She then shows me a reply e-mail from the broker saying that she's set up a conference room for 9, not 10.  My Fucking Mother refuses to meet at 9 because that would mean hitting the road at 8, when there's still traffic out, and she just hates traffic.  While I am e-mailing her to make sure she's got the right time, My Fucking Mother blames me for the wrong time -- that because I didn't specifically say, "My parents will meet you Thursday at 10 a.m." every single sentence, the agent totally forgot the time and so totally got it wrong.  I got so triggered that I screamed at My Fucking Mother, "I DIDN'T HAVE TO SAY THAT!!!" four times to shut her up and get the last word.  It was just an honest mistake on the broker's part; not an hour later she corrected herself.  But that fuckin' bitch once again blamed me for something I didn't do.  Fuck you too!!!

Everything and everybody sucks this week.  Goddamn I'll be glad when this is over.  But I have to wake up early the next two days to do things I'm not up for, especially not in the mindset I've been put in.  Fuck these people!