Going to St. Louis. Time's running short, so I bid on Priceline for a rental. Always go to Priceline, guys; what you do is check Orbitz for the rack rates (for cars and hotels), then Hotwire for their lower price which you have to commit on. That should give you the ceiling with which you can lowball a bid for on Priceline, which is what I did.
The cheapest rental for an economy was 18 bucks through Alamo. On Hotwire, it was 12 -- hell of a lot better than 18. So I go to Priceline and, what the hell, bid 10 bucks a day. I'm there only for four days, so maybe it works, and if not, a dozen dollars a day is perfectly reasonable.
Well touch me in the morning then just walk away, my bid was immediately accepted. It told me I was paying 25% less than the retail rate. I feel good ... but then I felt bad. Well shit; if they're going to accept my offer of $10/day, why didn't I say, like, nine a day, or even eight? This is a purely weekend vacay, so weekend rates apply. Should've thought of that.
Now I feel like I still paid them too much money. And when money's so tight, I have to fight for every cent. And I don't know if I did it when with my "successful" bid on Priceline.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
I Might Lose My Money Over Fucking Pizza
Great, now My Fucking Mother's pissed at me. Wait till you get a load of this. ...
Today was the third time we bought from Pizza Hut. We took advantage of their "any pizza, any size, any toppings, any crust for ten bucks" deal. This time, however, when My Fucking Mother called me to call Pizza Hut to order the pizzas that my parents would pick up on the way home, she asked me about the crust. Seems she is so pissed off about how tiny the pan crust is (which in fact is pretty big) that she really, really wants a bigger crust. But the stuffed crust is more expensive, so she settled on getting exactly the same pizzas we got the other two times -- Super Supreme on one pie, eight toppings on the other, regular crust with both. But I told her I'll ask about how much the stuffed crust is anyway.
I call "The Hut," and the guy who takes my order say it's supposed to be a dollar extra, but the coupon or something said it was free when it wasn't. I didn't quite understand what he said, but what I did understand was that he was going to give it to me for free. Yay! So it was $20.35 and it'd be ready in 15 minutes. I tell My Fucking Mother, ask if she wants any changes, and she didn't, so that was that.
Except ... except that I promised the guy that I'd call back after I called My Fucking Mother. And ... shit, I should've never promised to call him back. I totally space out and I start surfing the Internet and then go to the backand shovel the deck of snow. I think everything's cool until they come home and My Fucking Mother says that she paid $2.15 more than I was quoted.
Unbeknownst to me, My Fucking Mother laid down a gauntlet with two forks. There was one way I could have gone, a way that would have placated her, and the other way, my way, the I decided to take, the path that I did not know at the time pissed her off beyond belief.
What did I choose to do? I decided to call back Pizza Hut and ask why the hell was I charged two bucks more than what I was told I was going to be charged -- and I did it immediately. I felt two things: I had to do this now or else I would forget, or the guys at Pizza Hut would forget; and I needed to make this up to My Fucking Mother. So I call, then I'm put on hold (because apparently people really want their food delivered to them in the middle of a snowstorm.) I wait in my room, then go to the bathroom to wash up. After about a dozen minutes, some accusation that I should've brought a coupon, a refusal to admit I was right and an inability to find out which one of those promised me the price for the pizzas was $20.35, I got a coupon for $12 the next time I order. Fair enough.
So I'm done. And so was (My Fucking?) Father, who left to do ... something. Everything was cool, so I sat down at around 7 and finally started to eat pizza. But My Fucking Mother didn't talk or even look at me the whole time we were there. She grabbed the remote which was close to me, but that's the closest she ever got to me. And when she was done, she left me to wrap up and put away the leftover pizza, something she never did without telling me so. That's when it hit me -- not her being pissed at me, I felt that as soon as I sat down. No, my "epiphany" is that she was pissed at me because of something she tells me from time to time when I do something she doesn't want me to do: She hates when I, according to her, "make trouble." And it seems as if calling a pizza company to ask why I believe My Fucking Mother was charged two bucks more than I was told she'd be charged was stirring up shit for no good reason. And she's mad, she won't listen to reason; I could've told her I got the franchise for free because of what I think was a mistake on their part, she's beyond angry with me right now.
And it's horrible timing, because tomorrow afternoon the nurse that does the yearly assessment for my Grandmother is coming. Being her Personal Care Assistant provides the only income I have right now. She is my Grandmother's guardian and possible Power Of Attorney, however, and when the nurse comes over she helps translate between my Grandmother and the assessement nurse. With our right-wing extremist governor simply choosing not to generate any money at all for the state, there might be no money to pay all the PCA's; I've heard secondhand that people are getting their hours cut significantly and viciously. Are you telling me that to top all of that off, I'll have to deal with the possibility of a mom who is so upset at me she's willing to throw me under the bus, or worse not show up at all? You don't know her; she so totally could do some shit like that.
All of this because of some goddamn pizza. I can't win. Rarely does it feel like I can do right by either of these two people. Why can't I pay the amount of pizza I was told I'd have to pay? And why does my parent hold that against me?? Why?!?!?!
Today was the third time we bought from Pizza Hut. We took advantage of their "any pizza, any size, any toppings, any crust for ten bucks" deal. This time, however, when My Fucking Mother called me to call Pizza Hut to order the pizzas that my parents would pick up on the way home, she asked me about the crust. Seems she is so pissed off about how tiny the pan crust is (which in fact is pretty big) that she really, really wants a bigger crust. But the stuffed crust is more expensive, so she settled on getting exactly the same pizzas we got the other two times -- Super Supreme on one pie, eight toppings on the other, regular crust with both. But I told her I'll ask about how much the stuffed crust is anyway.
I call "The Hut," and the guy who takes my order say it's supposed to be a dollar extra, but the coupon or something said it was free when it wasn't. I didn't quite understand what he said, but what I did understand was that he was going to give it to me for free. Yay! So it was $20.35 and it'd be ready in 15 minutes. I tell My Fucking Mother, ask if she wants any changes, and she didn't, so that was that.
Except ... except that I promised the guy that I'd call back after I called My Fucking Mother. And ... shit, I should've never promised to call him back. I totally space out and I start surfing the Internet and then go to the backand shovel the deck of snow. I think everything's cool until they come home and My Fucking Mother says that she paid $2.15 more than I was quoted.
Unbeknownst to me, My Fucking Mother laid down a gauntlet with two forks. There was one way I could have gone, a way that would have placated her, and the other way, my way, the I decided to take, the path that I did not know at the time pissed her off beyond belief.
What did I choose to do? I decided to call back Pizza Hut and ask why the hell was I charged two bucks more than what I was told I was going to be charged -- and I did it immediately. I felt two things: I had to do this now or else I would forget, or the guys at Pizza Hut would forget; and I needed to make this up to My Fucking Mother. So I call, then I'm put on hold (because apparently people really want their food delivered to them in the middle of a snowstorm.) I wait in my room, then go to the bathroom to wash up. After about a dozen minutes, some accusation that I should've brought a coupon, a refusal to admit I was right and an inability to find out which one of those promised me the price for the pizzas was $20.35, I got a coupon for $12 the next time I order. Fair enough.
So I'm done. And so was (My Fucking?) Father, who left to do ... something. Everything was cool, so I sat down at around 7 and finally started to eat pizza. But My Fucking Mother didn't talk or even look at me the whole time we were there. She grabbed the remote which was close to me, but that's the closest she ever got to me. And when she was done, she left me to wrap up and put away the leftover pizza, something she never did without telling me so. That's when it hit me -- not her being pissed at me, I felt that as soon as I sat down. No, my "epiphany" is that she was pissed at me because of something she tells me from time to time when I do something she doesn't want me to do: She hates when I, according to her, "make trouble." And it seems as if calling a pizza company to ask why I believe My Fucking Mother was charged two bucks more than I was told she'd be charged was stirring up shit for no good reason. And she's mad, she won't listen to reason; I could've told her I got the franchise for free because of what I think was a mistake on their part, she's beyond angry with me right now.
And it's horrible timing, because tomorrow afternoon the nurse that does the yearly assessment for my Grandmother is coming. Being her Personal Care Assistant provides the only income I have right now. She is my Grandmother's guardian and possible Power Of Attorney, however, and when the nurse comes over she helps translate between my Grandmother and the assessement nurse. With our right-wing extremist governor simply choosing not to generate any money at all for the state, there might be no money to pay all the PCA's; I've heard secondhand that people are getting their hours cut significantly and viciously. Are you telling me that to top all of that off, I'll have to deal with the possibility of a mom who is so upset at me she's willing to throw me under the bus, or worse not show up at all? You don't know her; she so totally could do some shit like that.
All of this because of some goddamn pizza. I can't win. Rarely does it feel like I can do right by either of these two people. Why can't I pay the amount of pizza I was told I'd have to pay? And why does my parent hold that against me?? Why?!?!?!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Now I Really Hate Winter Driving
Driving home from drinking coffee, I have to drive through Uptown, which has some of the worst roads in the area. It's exponentially worse now that it's going through the up-and-down, freezing-and-melting winter.
It got dark and I wanted to get by this slow car, so I didn't see what apparently was a series of sizable potholes right down the center of the two-lane road I was on. But I heard and felt it, too late -- my car went BA-BOOM-BA-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!! for five seconds as I tried to find smooth road under my tires. I finally did, but now I think my tires, shocks and C/V joints are shot.
Goddamn I hate Minnesota winters.
It got dark and I wanted to get by this slow car, so I didn't see what apparently was a series of sizable potholes right down the center of the two-lane road I was on. But I heard and felt it, too late -- my car went BA-BOOM-BA-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!! for five seconds as I tried to find smooth road under my tires. I finally did, but now I think my tires, shocks and C/V joints are shot.
Goddamn I hate Minnesota winters.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
#-1: Timberwolves (Last Week: -7). They're going nowhere this year, but when will I ever get to put the Wolves on top of TWMNSS again? Playing only two games facilitated this meteoric rise; playing them both at home helped even more; and when the opponents are the Clippers and the Knicks, you have to cash in. The back-to-back wins put an end to their five-game losing streak. One thing that's helping: Ryan Hollins being installed in the starting lineup. If somehow the third-year man out of UCLA can blossom, that'll mean that ... the Woofie Dogs will have another overachieving role player on their roster. Oh yeah, and that winning streak will end this week; they play four games against Dallas, Memphis, Philadelphia and Charlotte.
#-2: Wrestling (Last Week: -1). They also enjoyed a 2-0 week, beating visitors Wisconsin and Purdue (the latter in their Endowment Meet). Kudos for beating ranked opponents. However they still rate as the fifth-ranked team in the nation. And they're still in the gauntlet of ranked Big Ten teams; this week the Gophers head to Illinois and Indiana. Like the Badgers and Boilermakers the Illini and Hoosiers are ranked much lower than the Gophers, but this is on the road, so who knows what could happen? By the way, Jayson Ness returns to the top of his class at 133 lbs.
#-3: Gopher women's hockey (Last Week: -3). Like I always say with this squad, a 2-0 weekend is great, but let's wait till we see 'em in the postseason. RW Brittany Francis was named WCHA Offensive Player Of The Week for her role in the Gophs' home sweep of MSU-Mankato by a combined 8-3 score. They have now won six in a row (including shootout wins) and is named by some polls as the new #1 team in the country. But now they face a formidable opponent in an unforgiving situation: at #5 UMD. We'll see how tough this team is after the weekend.
#-4: Wild (Last Week: -2). In a pattern that's getting to be familiar, they won the one game they were at home (against Edmonton, this season's NHL shit-eater) and lost the two games they played on the road (at San Jose and against the Bastard North Stars). This is the sixth consecutive game where they win while at the X but lose away from it. Guy Latendresse remains a revelation. And that's all I know about this team this week. Their win over the Oilers begins the five-game homestand that takes the team and the league to the Winter Olympic Break. They have two on the docket, against Philadelphia and the Bastard Winnipeg Jets.
#-5: Swarm (Last Week: -5). I don't know if lacrosse follows the player development model of the NBA, where you hold onto your draft picks as long as you can and get to enjoy cultivating them into stars for as long as you like, that of the NFL, where you have a hard salary cap and you either decide to sign a guy or convince him to take less money or just outright cut him, or that of MLB, where you can spend as much (or as little) as you like and player development is a mere suggestion. The Swarm, with talent that's been selected in-house or gathered through free agency, appears to be following a similar pattern, that of being very mediocre. They gave the Buffalo Bandits their first win of the season on Saturday, 11-7 at Buffalo. The Swarm now stand at 1-3. And they now go from facing the NLL's sole winless team to the league's last undefeated team, the 5-0 Washington (State, not D.C. like I thought) Stealth, in Washington Friday night (tonight).
#-6: Gopher men's hockey (Last Week: -8). They did win a game. The reason I put them below the Swarm, which lost its only game this past week, is because they also lost a game. To Alaska-Anchorage, a team that's allowed Michigan Tech to escape the label of WCHA doormat. The Gophers usually paste the Seawolves, regardless of home or away. Yet somehow they follow up a 7-4 win with a 2-1 loss to these patsies??? These. Guys. Have. No. Heart. And yet, inexplicably, F Zach Budish was named WCHA Rookie Of The Week. Whatever. They're going to get their asses kicked on the road against Denver this weekend.
#-7: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -4). Totally uncompetitive in their lone game this past week, an 85-63 pasting at Ohio St. This Evan Turner person must be really good. This is Tubby Smith's third year as coach, and there are now some rumbling starting as to whether he should be shitcanned. I'm not exactly happy that he hasn't had success, but I have to give him at least a couple more years of bringing in the players he can recruit in order to gauge his effectiveness. No, it doesn't help that Trevor Mbakwe, Royce White and Al Nolen all are no longer playing for the Gophs, but it's better that they be barred from ever donning the jersey and doing damage to actual team records. Now, will they get into the tournament? Uh, no, not after losing four of five. They do have two winnable games this week, however: at Penn St. Saturday, then home to Michigan Thursday.
#-8: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -6). Meanwhile, the distaff ballers have officially hit rock bottom for the year. They had many chances Thursday (last) night, but a steal in the lane sealed Wisconsin's 76-74 win over the Gophs at the Barn in double overtime. That completed a week to forget for the squad, for they lost by 13 to Illinois on Sunday afternoon. How in the hell can you lose both games in a homestand and expect to get into the Big Dance? They've lost five in a row -- just like old times when this program was nonexistent. Williams Arena will get to host tournament games this year, but they'll be one of those sites that take in teams that have no following on their home floors, because the Gophers sure as fuck won't be playing in them. At Michigan Super Bowl Sunday, then at Penn St. Thursday.
#-2: Wrestling (Last Week: -1). They also enjoyed a 2-0 week, beating visitors Wisconsin and Purdue (the latter in their Endowment Meet). Kudos for beating ranked opponents. However they still rate as the fifth-ranked team in the nation. And they're still in the gauntlet of ranked Big Ten teams; this week the Gophers head to Illinois and Indiana. Like the Badgers and Boilermakers the Illini and Hoosiers are ranked much lower than the Gophers, but this is on the road, so who knows what could happen? By the way, Jayson Ness returns to the top of his class at 133 lbs.
#-3: Gopher women's hockey (Last Week: -3). Like I always say with this squad, a 2-0 weekend is great, but let's wait till we see 'em in the postseason. RW Brittany Francis was named WCHA Offensive Player Of The Week for her role in the Gophs' home sweep of MSU-Mankato by a combined 8-3 score. They have now won six in a row (including shootout wins) and is named by some polls as the new #1 team in the country. But now they face a formidable opponent in an unforgiving situation: at #5 UMD. We'll see how tough this team is after the weekend.
#-4: Wild (Last Week: -2). In a pattern that's getting to be familiar, they won the one game they were at home (against Edmonton, this season's NHL shit-eater) and lost the two games they played on the road (at San Jose and against the Bastard North Stars). This is the sixth consecutive game where they win while at the X but lose away from it. Guy Latendresse remains a revelation. And that's all I know about this team this week. Their win over the Oilers begins the five-game homestand that takes the team and the league to the Winter Olympic Break. They have two on the docket, against Philadelphia and the Bastard Winnipeg Jets.
#-5: Swarm (Last Week: -5). I don't know if lacrosse follows the player development model of the NBA, where you hold onto your draft picks as long as you can and get to enjoy cultivating them into stars for as long as you like, that of the NFL, where you have a hard salary cap and you either decide to sign a guy or convince him to take less money or just outright cut him, or that of MLB, where you can spend as much (or as little) as you like and player development is a mere suggestion. The Swarm, with talent that's been selected in-house or gathered through free agency, appears to be following a similar pattern, that of being very mediocre. They gave the Buffalo Bandits their first win of the season on Saturday, 11-7 at Buffalo. The Swarm now stand at 1-3. And they now go from facing the NLL's sole winless team to the league's last undefeated team, the 5-0 Washington (State, not D.C. like I thought) Stealth, in Washington Friday night (tonight).
#-6: Gopher men's hockey (Last Week: -8). They did win a game. The reason I put them below the Swarm, which lost its only game this past week, is because they also lost a game. To Alaska-Anchorage, a team that's allowed Michigan Tech to escape the label of WCHA doormat. The Gophers usually paste the Seawolves, regardless of home or away. Yet somehow they follow up a 7-4 win with a 2-1 loss to these patsies??? These. Guys. Have. No. Heart. And yet, inexplicably, F Zach Budish was named WCHA Rookie Of The Week. Whatever. They're going to get their asses kicked on the road against Denver this weekend.
#-7: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -4). Totally uncompetitive in their lone game this past week, an 85-63 pasting at Ohio St. This Evan Turner person must be really good. This is Tubby Smith's third year as coach, and there are now some rumbling starting as to whether he should be shitcanned. I'm not exactly happy that he hasn't had success, but I have to give him at least a couple more years of bringing in the players he can recruit in order to gauge his effectiveness. No, it doesn't help that Trevor Mbakwe, Royce White and Al Nolen all are no longer playing for the Gophs, but it's better that they be barred from ever donning the jersey and doing damage to actual team records. Now, will they get into the tournament? Uh, no, not after losing four of five. They do have two winnable games this week, however: at Penn St. Saturday, then home to Michigan Thursday.
#-8: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -6). Meanwhile, the distaff ballers have officially hit rock bottom for the year. They had many chances Thursday (last) night, but a steal in the lane sealed Wisconsin's 76-74 win over the Gophs at the Barn in double overtime. That completed a week to forget for the squad, for they lost by 13 to Illinois on Sunday afternoon. How in the hell can you lose both games in a homestand and expect to get into the Big Dance? They've lost five in a row -- just like old times when this program was nonexistent. Williams Arena will get to host tournament games this year, but they'll be one of those sites that take in teams that have no following on their home floors, because the Gophers sure as fuck won't be playing in them. At Michigan Super Bowl Sunday, then at Penn St. Thursday.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
An Unfortunate Streak Broken
I thought I posted a blog yesterday, something about Priceline. Well, I looked through my records and it turns out that I didn't blog it, I just saved it as a draft because I wasn't done with it. That means that Feb. 3 is the first time since, possibly, the first week of this blog (in Jan. 2009) that I missed blogging a day and wasn't on vacation.
You know, this blog is very important to me. Even though some days are hard, I try to eke out some writing every day. Missing a day, especially because I wrote something but didn't actually finish or even post it, is very embarrassing to me. Even shaming. All I can do is apologize and hope that I will never do it again.
I'm writing during Letterman because I wanted to write about my day. I feel like I should write about this instead and shelve my blog post about my day. Which means I now have two drafts in the system. Not exactly what I had in mind when I started this.
You know, this blog is very important to me. Even though some days are hard, I try to eke out some writing every day. Missing a day, especially because I wrote something but didn't actually finish or even post it, is very embarrassing to me. Even shaming. All I can do is apologize and hope that I will never do it again.
I'm writing during Letterman because I wanted to write about my day. I feel like I should write about this instead and shelve my blog post about my day. Which means I now have two drafts in the system. Not exactly what I had in mind when I started this.
Driving Continues To Be A Goddamn Nightmare
This asshole yesterday is driving like he's in a race. I can't let him do that because otherwise he'll think he's the king of the fucking road. The least, the very fucking least, you can do is fucking put your goddamn turn signal on so that I'm ready to cut him off as soon as he takes your spot. I'm not going to hit you, I swear. Him? Fuck him, I'm ready for war, I don't give a shit if I hit him. But we'll never know if I could beat him and show him who's boss since you didn't let me know where you were going to go, now, did you? Traffic fuck-ups that are started by the too-quick are finished by the too-slow. Fuck you.
And you, truck driver I had the unfortunate luck of driving up the ass of today, you! If I only hadn't pointed my car in the wrong direction I wouldn't have run into your ass. I will admit that, it's my fault. But by trying to correct my path I see you, in your fucking semi, waiting on a side street next to the elementary school to make a right turn. Once you decide to hit the acclerator I hit the brake, because your fat ass needs all the space in the world to make a turn. I was hoping you were going to stay in the left lane, but I know I had to stay motionless because of the worst thing that could happen, the worst that did happen, which was you jerking your wide right turn back across the left lane and onto the right lane, aka the lane I was on. So not only did I waste time driving the wrong way, I am now waiting behind a slow-to-brake, slow-to-speed up semi -- and at a red light to boot. I hit my steering wheel in frustration so hard I needed to test it to make sure I didn't break the horn. I didn't -- and I sort-of inadvertently sent a message of frustration your way. So I have to at least thank you for moving out of my way, then falling in behind me so I could pass you. So not fuck you. Now please don't hunt me down. And please don't get in my way again. Thank you.
And you, truck driver I had the unfortunate luck of driving up the ass of today, you! If I only hadn't pointed my car in the wrong direction I wouldn't have run into your ass. I will admit that, it's my fault. But by trying to correct my path I see you, in your fucking semi, waiting on a side street next to the elementary school to make a right turn. Once you decide to hit the acclerator I hit the brake, because your fat ass needs all the space in the world to make a turn. I was hoping you were going to stay in the left lane, but I know I had to stay motionless because of the worst thing that could happen, the worst that did happen, which was you jerking your wide right turn back across the left lane and onto the right lane, aka the lane I was on. So not only did I waste time driving the wrong way, I am now waiting behind a slow-to-brake, slow-to-speed up semi -- and at a red light to boot. I hit my steering wheel in frustration so hard I needed to test it to make sure I didn't break the horn. I didn't -- and I sort-of inadvertently sent a message of frustration your way. So I have to at least thank you for moving out of my way, then falling in behind me so I could pass you. So not fuck you. Now please don't hunt me down. And please don't get in my way again. Thank you.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
All This For An Optomap?
Haven't had my eyes checked in years. Opportunities have finally given me reason to get them examined. Got them checked New Year's Eve in case insurance wouldn't allow me to get this paid for in 2010.
When I went into LensCrafters I was run through their battery of tests. When I reached the back and the end of my journey, the doctor on call went through my tests. He was young and, more importantly, a very engaged fellow. He wasn't condescending, yet he spoke in complete, thoughtful and informative sentences. The most poised professional I've seen in a long time.
He recommended that I get a full map thingy of the inside of my eye. He said dilation works, but I'd have to undergo what would be a four-hour ordeal and I'd have to driven home. Or, he slyly says, there's this new-fangled machine called an Optomap. A laser spreads across your eyeball and it prints out a colorful map of the inside to see if there are cataracts or anything. In the back of my mind I know it's a waste, and at $35 I really don't think it's necessary. But I have to admit, I was so ... um, charmed by this guy that I decided to reward his courtesy by undergoing this ultimately superfluous upcharge, although at a later date.
Said date was last week. The nurse or helper or whatever took me to the anteroom where I got all the preliminary tests the last time that are so easy that the nurse can do them. I stepped in front of the Optomap machine. And I noticed that it looks like the same thing I did the last time I was here. Hey, does that mean I already have an Optomap?
This hemming and hawing is a way for me to deal with my extreme uncertainty over things I'm not familiar with. Also, this hedging had a lot to do with the fact that I'm spending money, and as y'all know, I still don't have a job. But the questions I verbalized may have been too much for the chick who was taking these tests for me; after indulging me my queries and even answering a couple, she just verbally forced me to stick my eye in front of the black hole so it could "map" my perfect eyeball.
And it was perfect, like I thought -- I should trust my intuition more. The doctor came into the back room that was only partially lit. I told him that the Optomap felt familiar from the last time I was there; he told me that the images weren't good the last time, so that's why I had to do it again. Nice save, Doc; I don't believe it for a second. Instead, I have a feeling the nurse who "helped" me bitched about me and my questions to you, and you made up a lie just so to have an excuse. I mean, why would you just accept bad images the first time I came in?
But whatever -- I accepted any potential risk of being ripped off because you presented yourself well. That and your demeanor. And, well, your easy blue eyes too. I can say that, right? Thanks for letting me know there ain't a damn thing wrong with my eyeballs. I should've trusted my gut, but I'm a hopeless wreck who needs someone in authority to assuage and confirm my hunches. So, thank you. You will get $35 for this computer scan, and in exchange I won't have this done again for, oh, the rest of my life.
I just wanted to reach out, one more time, to the bitch nurse who helped me. I'm sure she found me difficult, but since I have to give her my check I'm also going to give her one last chance to be civil to me. Just after handing my hard-earned money over, I said: "Oh, by the way, I'm sorry about all my questions back there."
And she, without missing a beat nor really looking at me, said, "That's fine." That's fine. The completely vague, utterly nonsensical phrase one spits out when dismissing as irrelevant to your life any concern a person expresses about his own incivility or fussiness. The way this cunt said those two words told me not that she forgave my behavior or even forgot it because it was unimportant -- she didn't give a shit about me or the little time I shared with her at all. Nothing about me was important to her, the bad nor the good. I was just a person checking out.
Well, fuck you. I had a sneaking suspicion that while I was meeting the doctor you were out at reception bitching to your co-worker about me -- "This guy was all, 'Oh, I thought I already took this test,' and I'm all, 'Just shut the fuck up!' Gook ..." Your "friend" was acting the same way to you about another client she was talking to, so don't tell me you keep it professonal. You two fucking work at the mall, for fuck's sake! I know you -- you're the type of girl who only sees her job as a paycheck and wants the day to be over with and doesn't give a fuck about being friendly to customers because they're just another obstacle to overcome to get to the end of your day. You also probably like country music and think the country would be a lot better off if we immigrants weren't around jibber-jabbering in languages besides English. Fuck you in the ass. I'm trying to figure out why I'm letting your bitch ass rip me off for $35, the least you could do as not act like I'm ruining your day, because I'm not. Bitch.
When I went into LensCrafters I was run through their battery of tests. When I reached the back and the end of my journey, the doctor on call went through my tests. He was young and, more importantly, a very engaged fellow. He wasn't condescending, yet he spoke in complete, thoughtful and informative sentences. The most poised professional I've seen in a long time.
He recommended that I get a full map thingy of the inside of my eye. He said dilation works, but I'd have to undergo what would be a four-hour ordeal and I'd have to driven home. Or, he slyly says, there's this new-fangled machine called an Optomap. A laser spreads across your eyeball and it prints out a colorful map of the inside to see if there are cataracts or anything. In the back of my mind I know it's a waste, and at $35 I really don't think it's necessary. But I have to admit, I was so ... um, charmed by this guy that I decided to reward his courtesy by undergoing this ultimately superfluous upcharge, although at a later date.
Said date was last week. The nurse or helper or whatever took me to the anteroom where I got all the preliminary tests the last time that are so easy that the nurse can do them. I stepped in front of the Optomap machine. And I noticed that it looks like the same thing I did the last time I was here. Hey, does that mean I already have an Optomap?
This hemming and hawing is a way for me to deal with my extreme uncertainty over things I'm not familiar with. Also, this hedging had a lot to do with the fact that I'm spending money, and as y'all know, I still don't have a job. But the questions I verbalized may have been too much for the chick who was taking these tests for me; after indulging me my queries and even answering a couple, she just verbally forced me to stick my eye in front of the black hole so it could "map" my perfect eyeball.
And it was perfect, like I thought -- I should trust my intuition more. The doctor came into the back room that was only partially lit. I told him that the Optomap felt familiar from the last time I was there; he told me that the images weren't good the last time, so that's why I had to do it again. Nice save, Doc; I don't believe it for a second. Instead, I have a feeling the nurse who "helped" me bitched about me and my questions to you, and you made up a lie just so to have an excuse. I mean, why would you just accept bad images the first time I came in?
But whatever -- I accepted any potential risk of being ripped off because you presented yourself well. That and your demeanor. And, well, your easy blue eyes too. I can say that, right? Thanks for letting me know there ain't a damn thing wrong with my eyeballs. I should've trusted my gut, but I'm a hopeless wreck who needs someone in authority to assuage and confirm my hunches. So, thank you. You will get $35 for this computer scan, and in exchange I won't have this done again for, oh, the rest of my life.
I just wanted to reach out, one more time, to the bitch nurse who helped me. I'm sure she found me difficult, but since I have to give her my check I'm also going to give her one last chance to be civil to me. Just after handing my hard-earned money over, I said: "Oh, by the way, I'm sorry about all my questions back there."
And she, without missing a beat nor really looking at me, said, "That's fine." That's fine. The completely vague, utterly nonsensical phrase one spits out when dismissing as irrelevant to your life any concern a person expresses about his own incivility or fussiness. The way this cunt said those two words told me not that she forgave my behavior or even forgot it because it was unimportant -- she didn't give a shit about me or the little time I shared with her at all. Nothing about me was important to her, the bad nor the good. I was just a person checking out.
Well, fuck you. I had a sneaking suspicion that while I was meeting the doctor you were out at reception bitching to your co-worker about me -- "This guy was all, 'Oh, I thought I already took this test,' and I'm all, 'Just shut the fuck up!' Gook ..." Your "friend" was acting the same way to you about another client she was talking to, so don't tell me you keep it professonal. You two fucking work at the mall, for fuck's sake! I know you -- you're the type of girl who only sees her job as a paycheck and wants the day to be over with and doesn't give a fuck about being friendly to customers because they're just another obstacle to overcome to get to the end of your day. You also probably like country music and think the country would be a lot better off if we immigrants weren't around jibber-jabbering in languages besides English. Fuck you in the ass. I'm trying to figure out why I'm letting your bitch ass rip me off for $35, the least you could do as not act like I'm ruining your day, because I'm not. Bitch.
Monday, February 1, 2010
All Because I Took The Wrong Side Street
First of all, I was asked if I could switch my appointment a full two-hour block later today. I had a chance to move today's "work" to Thursday, but given that my "boss" broached the idea, I didn't want to bat that down. Then I heard yesterday about the snow, but even though it was going to hit squarely at the time I was on the road, they said it'd be only an inch. I'm Minnesotan -- if I can't handle that, why stay in Minnesota?
Since it was late and it was snowing, I decided to just take a side street home. Then I thought, Well, if I do have a little time for coffee, why not go to this place? I wanted to try the Wilde Roast Cafe again. Had been there a couple times before, but the last time I was, I was there for, like, 10 minutes because they closed at 10 p.m. Geez, these guys go to sleep as early as my parents do. But since I had a lot more time, I could enjoy their sweet, easygoing mocha.
That would be the last calming thing I would have the rest of the evening.
This area of town, called Nordeast, is not in a grid pattern. The WRC is just off the road from Central Ave., the side street I wanted to take all the way home. When I started driving home, I thought I needed to get to Central by taking a quick left somehow. But as I moved forward I saw that the alley I thought I was on turn into a street. Hmmm, maybe I'll just take this down and see if I can hang a left at a stoplight or something.
No dice. This street was E. Hennepin, and pretty soon I found myself in the middle of several long lines for evening rush. Instead of taking the side streets all the way up, I was lost, and the only way I could find my way home now was to get onto 35WN, in the teeth of evening rush. Once I found a way to get onto an on-ramp (I turned onto a two-lane, and I chose the wrong lane -- I thought the one I was on was going to get me to 35WN, but it actually was 35WS. Goddamn, I have to get a compass for the car one of these days) I spent my the next goddamn motherfucking 30-5 minutes in 45 m.p.h. traffic.
The damage done to my car is horrific. It absolutely infuriates me when I accelerate just when I see the brake lights of the car in front of me flash on, then I either brake hard immediately or brake slowly and just after my automatic transmission shifts into the nexst gear, and then I come to a complete stop just as the car in front of me starts accelerating. It was like that all the way home, in a snowfall that was a bit harder than I thought it'd be. Plus I had to spend five minutes on the driveway clearing all the dirty snow the tires spun onto the underside of the car; and I had the car washed just three days ago! Finally, since I never did drive more than 45 all the way up, the oil in the engine never burned up the way it should have. So now my car's in the driveway with an overworked transmission, dirty oil in the engine and melting snow about to make a permanent mark alll over my car.
The last time I worked a 9-to-5 job was in early 2003, and tonight I remembered why the commute was one of the things I hated the most. And all of this because I didn't, like, cut through the gas station to get onto Central. No, I indulged my tentative wanderlust and stayed my course, and I ended up damaging my car. Well, I still would've driven slowly, so the oil was still going to be fucked and there'd be snow on my car regardless, but the transmission wouldn't be so shot because there definitely would be a lot less bump-and-go traffic going up Central. Plus, I would've been home in half the time; instead, I damaged my car twice as long as I should have.
No, I can't work this late again. Have to change.
---
Should add this. Father called me to ask when I was coming home. 'Rents were waiting for me for a second day in a row. Not a good feeling. And when I went to the bathroom to wash my hands I smelled a hellacious scent. My Fucking God, Grandmother, what did you shit out?!?!?! Paint was peeling off the walls, for shit's sake!!!
Since it was late and it was snowing, I decided to just take a side street home. Then I thought, Well, if I do have a little time for coffee, why not go to this place? I wanted to try the Wilde Roast Cafe again. Had been there a couple times before, but the last time I was, I was there for, like, 10 minutes because they closed at 10 p.m. Geez, these guys go to sleep as early as my parents do. But since I had a lot more time, I could enjoy their sweet, easygoing mocha.
That would be the last calming thing I would have the rest of the evening.
This area of town, called Nordeast, is not in a grid pattern. The WRC is just off the road from Central Ave., the side street I wanted to take all the way home. When I started driving home, I thought I needed to get to Central by taking a quick left somehow. But as I moved forward I saw that the alley I thought I was on turn into a street. Hmmm, maybe I'll just take this down and see if I can hang a left at a stoplight or something.
No dice. This street was E. Hennepin, and pretty soon I found myself in the middle of several long lines for evening rush. Instead of taking the side streets all the way up, I was lost, and the only way I could find my way home now was to get onto 35WN, in the teeth of evening rush. Once I found a way to get onto an on-ramp (I turned onto a two-lane, and I chose the wrong lane -- I thought the one I was on was going to get me to 35WN, but it actually was 35WS. Goddamn, I have to get a compass for the car one of these days) I spent my the next goddamn motherfucking 30-5 minutes in 45 m.p.h. traffic.
The damage done to my car is horrific. It absolutely infuriates me when I accelerate just when I see the brake lights of the car in front of me flash on, then I either brake hard immediately or brake slowly and just after my automatic transmission shifts into the nexst gear, and then I come to a complete stop just as the car in front of me starts accelerating. It was like that all the way home, in a snowfall that was a bit harder than I thought it'd be. Plus I had to spend five minutes on the driveway clearing all the dirty snow the tires spun onto the underside of the car; and I had the car washed just three days ago! Finally, since I never did drive more than 45 all the way up, the oil in the engine never burned up the way it should have. So now my car's in the driveway with an overworked transmission, dirty oil in the engine and melting snow about to make a permanent mark alll over my car.
The last time I worked a 9-to-5 job was in early 2003, and tonight I remembered why the commute was one of the things I hated the most. And all of this because I didn't, like, cut through the gas station to get onto Central. No, I indulged my tentative wanderlust and stayed my course, and I ended up damaging my car. Well, I still would've driven slowly, so the oil was still going to be fucked and there'd be snow on my car regardless, but the transmission wouldn't be so shot because there definitely would be a lot less bump-and-go traffic going up Central. Plus, I would've been home in half the time; instead, I damaged my car twice as long as I should have.
No, I can't work this late again. Have to change.
---
Should add this. Father called me to ask when I was coming home. 'Rents were waiting for me for a second day in a row. Not a good feeling. And when I went to the bathroom to wash my hands I smelled a hellacious scent. My Fucking God, Grandmother, what did you shit out?!?!?! Paint was peeling off the walls, for shit's sake!!!
I was tired and took a nap tonight during the Grammys. Had the landline in my room. Went off, woke me up. But I did I found it funny that anybody would be calling, so I turned on the phone but didn't say anything. I didn't hear anything on the other end, so, after, like, three seconds I turned it off.
Now that I have time to think about it ... was it one of my parent's restaurants who wanted to phone in an order? Did I just hang up on them? I hope not.
Now that I have time to think about it ... was it one of my parent's restaurants who wanted to phone in an order? Did I just hang up on them? I hope not.
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