And then that son-of-a-bitch, My Fucking Father, wakes me up at 10:30. He was being a nagging bitch for the second morning in a row (he woke me up yesterday morning at 10:30), so I sent his ass to voicemail.

And then he calls me 15 minutes later. This time he called me on his cell; does he think that changing the phone he calls from will make me pick up? I still wanted to sleep, so I sent him to voicemail again, but then I spent the rest of my time on my bed thinking up an excuse as to why I didn't pick up the first two times when he calls a third time.

And he did after I decided to get Grandmother something to eat. I decided that I would take a forward verbal approach, namely be a little forceful when I give him the excuse that I am working (italics his):

"Can I help you? I'm working."

"Have you done the forms yet?" (He threw both a property tax assessment appeal and a nursing home application form at me last night; couldn't fill out the former and I don't give a shit about the latter.)

"No. I'm working now. I'll swing by the doctor's and drop off the form (I'm not) before doing the form."

"Oh, you're working? Oh, OK then, tonight you just give me all the forms."

"You want all the forms?"

"Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I told you to work on this last night and you didn't do them." (The son-of-a-bitch came upstairs overnight while I was eating a late-night snack in the dining room, the prick.) "You went somewhere last night, where did you go?"

Uh, fuck him. Why am I helping him out by going to The Store right now anyway?

Ah well. Maybe I can point out that the assessment appeal had to be postmarked by yesterday. Good luck with that, Old Man.

Had a nightmare that Mother once again told me "not anymore." It either referred to having money or keeping Grandmother at home.

Either way, it was bad. And it was an omen. I was woken up this morning by Father, who wanted me to make an appointment with Grandmother's doctor. He wants him to sign this form he "forgot" to sign. Signing this hastens Grandmother's exit out of here and into a nursing home.

She was a whiny old lady yesterday -- more on this later -- but I still don't want her to leave.

Going to take Grandmother to a bunch of lawyers.

I have no idea what to expect. I doubt she has any idea what to expect. I doubt she has any idea, period.

I don't know if she cares anymore. I don't know if she even remembers; I think she told me last night she was making plans to go to the casino. I don't know if those plans are still on.

All I know is that when this cropped up months ago, she wanted to go through with it. And then she said the same thing several days ago ... but then she said she didn't want to go through with it.

Fuck. This is going to be a disaster.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Gopher women's hockey (Last Week: -2). The sport of women's college hockey remains too unbalanced. There are 34 teams in top-flight, yet there are, oh, six to eight that are really good programs and the rest are, at least right now, shit.

I guess I should be happy that the Gophers swept St. Cloud St. this weekend. But many times, more than anything, I want to see a competitive game, especially when I step back, divest myself of any personal and visceral allegiances to a team, and look at the sport, and sport, as a whole. When the U. immolates the Huskies by a combined score of 15-1, I don't think, "Yeah, they beat the shit out of the Cloud!" nor do I think, "Great, they can beat the hell out of bad programs but can't beat good ones like UMD or Boston College." I'm thinking, "Shit, if the schools are going to be so lopsided in talent, why even play? Why not shed the programs in half? Why not degrade the sport down to club level, at least until there's ample evidence there are enough good players going through U.S. colleges to justify 34 Division I teams?" I don't want to be a Debbie Downer, but that's how I truly feel about this team right now.

I don't think the icers will have much of a problem dispatching their next opponent, Ohio St., next weekend, even if it is in Columbus, Ohio.

#-2: Timberwolves (Last Week: -6). A very eventful week for the Woofie Dogs, who went 3-2 for the week. They had a chance at a statement win against The Team That Was Stolen From Us, The Bastard Minneapolis Lakers Sunday but buckled at the altar of Kobe. They had another chance against Indiana while disguised as the American Basketball Association team that was here, the Minnesota Muskies (the uniforms are kind of blah, but it's nice to see Minnesota professional basketball recognized), in a game I had planned to go to because it's the only time in six games the Timberwolves play as the Muskies against an actual ABA opponent. But I forgot ... and lucky me, because they lost.

But the big story this week is the coming-out party of Kevin Love -- as a presence, a vocal leader on the club, and maybe as a bad boy in the NBA. During the loss to the Pacers, Love got into an argument with Indiana leader Danny Granger. Earlier in the week, in a win at Houston, Luis Scola tried to save possession for his Rockets by throwing the ball at Love while Scola was jumping out of bounds; it hit Love somewhere in the lower torso, maybe the groin (I didn't see the replay). As payback last (Saturday) night at Target Center, Love stepped on Scola's chest as the Timberwolves were running the other way. It wasn't called on the court, but Love will definitely be called on the carpet once the NBA's front office reviews it.

I didn't know Love had the capacity to be a hothead. I'll wait and see when it stops being beneficial and starts being a liability. (Oh, BTW, the Wolves beat the Rockets last [Saturday] night, and New Jersey on the road too.)

A pair of backer-to-backers this screening week: home to Sacramento then at Memphis, then a pair at home against Dallas and New York.

#-3: Swarm (Last Week: -1). Had a 9-6 lead at halftime at Rochester but lost the game 16-14, their only game this week. That's all I've got. They start a three-game homestand Friday against Edmonton.

#-4: Wild (Last Week: -3). Although the Mild won a game (as part of their 1-2 week), I'm grading them below for three reasons:

1. Do you remember who won the NHL All-Star Game last weekend? One Marian Gaborik, the supposed cornerstone of the franchise when it was born in 2000. He had two goals and two assists, I think, thus giving some publicity to his new team, the one he signed with (rather than traded to), the New York Rangers. Their gain is our loss.
2. That fucking awful loss to Nashville at home Tuesday to start the second half of the season. I was driving to a coffeehouse that evening and listening to the game on the radio. This fucking squad had a 4-2 lead with 3 1/2 minutes left. The fucking Mild the coughed up two goals in only 21 seconds to choke away the lead, then gave up the game-winning goal with 21 seconds left to lose. They couldn't even get a point by surviving into overtime. No, this was a complete pissaway.
3. I was assuming that loss to the Predators would be the final nail in the coffin, the game that, even if there are wins afterward and even if they've been playing awful before then, would trigger a noticeable and eye-wincing downward spiral to destroy yet another promising season. They did win at Colorado (somehow, on a fluke goal by Greg Zanon), but then they had to go to Dallas and be hospitable to The Team That Was Stolen From Us, The Bastard North Stars, in a shootout last (Saturday) night. Personally, I believe the Wild have an obligation to beat the shit out of The Team That Was Stolen From Us every game, and that they lost is just as embarrassing as the one to Nashville.

And yet they still hold onto 8th place in the Western Conference playoffs, two points ahead of The Bastard North Stars.

Did you know that this will is the second of three straight weeks where the club plays Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday? At the worst team in the NHL, Columbus, before starting a four-game homestand against Vancouver and those same Blue Jackets.

#-5: Gopher women's basketball (Last Week: -7). The last three teams in the WMNSS lost one game. This team lost at Illinois. So why did I put them first among these winless? Oh, a combination of expectations (meaning I'm more disappointed in the teams that have a better chance of winning the NCAA tournament) and ... well, I just put them in reverse order of where they were last week.

All three teams lost in dispiriting fashion. Here, they were tied late before the Illini ended the game scoring the last five. They now sit at .500 (12-12) overall.

They host Penn St. in an hour, then visit Iowa Thursday. About today's game: It kind of sucks for the Nittany Lions. Everybody's watching the Super Bowl; it's an American obligation, kind of like the draft. Where will Penn St. be after the game? Flying home? In their hotel rooms? Watching at Williams Arena? I noticed that the last college basketball games today start at 2 Central, meaning they should be done by 4 Central. A lot of visitors playing earlier today (the Gopher men, for one) might -- might -- be able to get home in time for kickoff 5:25 Central. But the Miami men's team will be 90 minutes away from the start of Super Bowl XLVI after they finish their game at Duke. It's kind of sad to be away from home for the game. It's kind of like working on Christmas Eve, you know?

#-6: Gopher men's basketball (Last Week: -5). The Goofs led at Iowa by as much as ten in the second half and held a five-point lead with 3 1/2 minutes left. They then went scoreless the rest of the game and allowed the Hawkeyes to rip off the final nine points in a 63-59 defeat. They have been swept by Iowa, who sport the same 4-6 B1G record as the U. Killer loss.

As I said, they're playing at Nebraska right this minute. If the Goofs win somehow, it'll be only the second time they win at a Top 100 opponent. They also host Wisconsin Thursday.

#-7: Gopher wrestling (Last Week: -4). When in the hell does the University of Minnesota wrestling team get upset? But they did. Now, it's not as if Iowa is some podunk school; it's a legendary program and were ranked fifth. But the U. was ranked third, and any J Robinson-led team takes care of business.

But the Hawkeyes won the first three matches to race out to a 9-0 lead. Dylan Ness major-decisioned Michael Kelly to make it 9-4, but then Nick Moore returned the favor on Alec Ortiz, and then Mike Evans pinned Cody Yohn to make it 19-4. The Hawkeyes lost the last four matches of the dual, but they didn't need any more points; they were able to hold the Goofs down to decisions and thus won 19-17.

Right now they're finishing up the last game of the conference season against Nebraska at the Sports Pavilion. The grapplers then go to Piscataway, N.J. for NWCA National Duals Saturday.

My Prediction For Super Bowl XLVI

New York Giants 37, New England Patriots 33.

The Best Commercial On TV Right Now (At Least Until The Super Bowl)

The State Farm commercial featuring Journey, a band whose music I hear so often around me it annoys the hell out of me, but is used to hilarious effect here:



Four things that make this really funny:

1) The customer. His face and the way about him ... he comes off like a real person, not an actor. Hell, he might be a real State Farm customer. Regardless, he's perfect.

2) The droll way he and the insurance agent say the lines to "Any Way You Want It." They're not giddy and attracting attention to themselves, like, "Tee-hee, we're saying a Journey song!" It's the way two dudes who stumbled into a song during conversation should go through the bit: While not making a big deal out of it.

3) I love the way the customer says: "We just had ourselves a little Journey moment there."

4) The punchline was good too. The only thing that would have made it perfect was if they could've pushed the envelope there. I wanted the customer to say: "Saw 'em in '83 in Fresno. Place was crawlin' with chicks. Man, I would give my left n ... (sees his wife looking at him) I gotta go."

Expenses Without Receipt

It's been a week??? Damn, this is hard:

• So ... Thursday ... uh, I got a surprise slot at "work." Hearing lab ... therefore infusion: $20.
• I could ghastly be wrong on this, but later that evening I went out to a coffee shop (not My Favorite Coffeeshop, either division). I say this because I know I went there to ask the barista if this place gave discounts for bringing in your own mug. (The answer was no, by the way.) And even though there was a whole hour of 30 Rock and an episode of Up All Night, all the late-night shows (except Kimmel, who, bless his heart, still does new shows when most of the others take vacations) were in re-runs, so I'm pretty sure I took the occasion to go out. Anyway, a small coffee with tip was: $1.75.
• Friday? Uh, it was a snowy day, and one where I thought I could go to the lab but my slot was canceled. I wanted to check out this nursing home my parents want to throw Grandmother into, but first I wanted to go to Maverick's, a place that serves the best roast beef in town. And I get a beef brisket instead. Not bad, though a tad dry. With tip: $10.25.
• Went to My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division). No dances, but I stayed there for a while, so I think I spent: $10.
• Afterward I went to My Favorite Coffeehouse (Late Night Division) for a mocha. With tip: $5.25.
• Saturday I virtually did the same thing. First I went to the stripclub and paid another: $10.
• Then coffee. Same thing: $5.25.
• Then, just to switch it up, I went to My Favorite Late-Night Italian Place. I just got a soup and salad, but unfortunately, I didn't have enough coins to round up to the usual tip I give them for what I got. Guesstimate, with tip: $8.04.
• On Monday I went to Dairy Queen. Chicken strip special on Mondays, straight up: $5.
• On Tuesday I went to the same unfamiliar coffeeshop that I went to the week before. I want to try to go there because a) it's closer, even if by half a mile, b) it's cheaper. Again, coffee with tip: $1.75.

I haven't changed my day planner to February yet, so I'll end it on expenses on the 31st.

Why Do I Even Go To The Store Anymore?

My Fucking Father follows up his "professional" conduct over dinner last night by being an outright male bitch at The Store today. All I heard was him yelling, presumably over Mother.

Oh yeah, I found another tick about him that pisses me off: He has this thing where he just starts screaming at you, and after he's done, he gives you, like, a second before he screams, "OK, OK!" He says his piece while denying you the chance to say anything back to him, and he acts like he's getting over his feelings of outrage even though he got all the verbal insults he wanted to say before he essentially shut off debate. Passive-aggressiveness 101.

Anyway, as I was leaving for my testicular ultrasound, I told My Fucking Father it's my brother's birthday. What did he blurt out? His birthday. The fuck???

And after he actually fucking listened to what I said, he said something just as asinine: "Who cares?" Who cares? The birthday of your son?? And then he goes on this unintelligible rant about his wife (my sister-in-law) being 12. What?

Oh! He explained again: My sister-in-law's birthday (and he was squawking like a jackass when he was saying this for some goddamn reason) is later this month, and so they're going to celebrate both birthdays some time after today but before her birthday. Too bad I'm going on vacation next week. And so there was some consternation.

Before I left, I had to help him get a public television subchannel on the TV at The Store. I helped him before with this, but it's not there again. And for some goddamn reason I stayed the next 15 minutes failing to get this channel, making myself late for the appointment. And after I quit he said, "OK!" -- not in the "ha-ha, I yelled at you and I just stopped you from yelling at me" way I described above but in his whiny voice that I've documented countless times before.

He's going to Mayo tomorrow. I hope the doctors determine they need to run tests for, oh, the entire weekend.

Grandmother went to the casino today. Good for her to go out. Of course, it is the 1st of the month, so she very well could have already spent all her welfare money.

That left the three of us, my parents and I, eating at home. I wish things could just be sanguine, but My Fucking Father decided against that. First, he asked me if the TV at The Store could play DVD's. Why?

"Because I want to give it to Grandmother when she goes to the nursing home," the asshole replied.

No, it's not that soon, is it? I hear that they're moving on with throwing her out, then I hear nothing, and not I guess it's back on again. And Grandmother still doesn't know we're talking about her and this.

And then the motherfucker starts in on me about going back to school. And he does this by regaling a story about Mother's new co-workers, how they're all young single women from Malaysia who have little to do while they bide their time until the company gets them green cards, and so they start studying. They all have master's degrees now -- so why don't you, son?!

He's right. He's also right when he says I'm smart by I don't want to. I can't say anything else besides the fact that the story My Fucking Father told me about the Malaysian single women with the master's degrees he already told me.

Hmmm, he's forgotten already ... maybe he should be the one we throw into a nursing home.

I Know My Weight For The First Time Since High School

I had body image issues during adolescence. Shit, I still have body image issues now, but they're the humdrum problems with getting fat. Come to think of it, it was the same back then, just balled up with other issues like growing hair in places like my armpits and genitals and trying for hours to see if I could suck my own dick. That so needs its own separate blog post.

But getting fat was a bigger, weirder issue when I was in high school. I had been skinny as a kid, and I wanted to maintain that as my body underwent the changes into adulthood. Not just as best as I can; I wanted to stay at the same weight I was before going through puberty. If it meant getting taller and having a deeper voice, I would just eat less. My eyeball test to see if I was watching my weight was going to the bathroom, taking off my shirt, and inhaling as far as possible. Ever since I could remember I was able to see my ribcage if I breathed in. If I could do that after all these body changes, I wouldn't feel like my world was crashing around me.

I don't know how long I obsessed over my weight, but at some point I realized that what I was doing was madness. I still hated puberty because it would take me from the physical self I had always known. But I grew up learning about anorexia and bulimia, and I didn't want to be seized by these psychosomatic demons. Losing control of my weight was one thing; losing control of my mind by refusing to accept reality, however, was my greater fear. So at some point in high school, somewhere around the time I got a tad more serious about my studies, I just decided to stop obsessing over my weight. The last time I weighed myself, I was around 125 pounds.

The one big thing I stopped wasn't looking at my ribcage in the bathroom mirror; that I still did, if with decreasing frequency as I got older. But another thing I did was check my weight on the scale in the bathroom constantly. I knew that those scary, weird anorexics and bulimics checked their weight all the time. I didn't want to be one of those people, so at some point, maybe when I turned 18, I stopped checking my weight. Finding out my number, I figured, would only send me into a tizzy if it was too high to my liking.

Fast-forward to, oh, March 17, 2011. It would be around my 14th month of working out. I use the elliptical mostly, and it has this feature where you punch in your weight so it could tailor its computerized regimen to best fit your needs. I liked where I was right now because what my age is and what I thought my weight was (150 pounds) are the defaults, so all I need to do is hit "Options" and then press "OK" four times fast as it gives me the age and then the weight.

But I knew it was a lie. There's no way I could just be 150 lbs. because being to hit that "OK" button like I'm a trigger-happy general trying to launch a nuclear weapon in Dr. Strangelove was too convenient. And then I thought that my self-imposed ban from knowing my weight is going a bit too far at this point. I'm 35 and need to start changing my habits so I could live a long life and ensure life to my years. I can't do that without knowing my precise weight. So, after many years of rolling it around in my head, I decide that this is time to finally know how fat I am.

I thought it'd be in early December, when I had to weigh in for this experiment. But when I finally faced the music, the music was in metric. But I was fairly certain that I would know when I came in for my physical Monday afternoon.

I thought up a guess. What the hell, I'll go by what I punch in the elliptical: 150 pounds. I'd take 175; that doesn't sound too big for a guy my size.

When the nurse told me to step onto the scale, I, like in the previous weigh-in for the experiment, closed my eyes and took a breath. But quicker this time -- this time I knew I needed to know. And the scale didn't deke me out by giving me kilograms. Oh, it gave me good ol' American pounds -- 164.5 of them.

Wow. Just ... wow. I'm 165 fucking pounds. Honestly, I don't think I'm obese. I am fat, fat like My Fucking Father. But I'm not too bent out of shape ... even though I am out of shape. Now I can't just blow through the Options the next time I'm on the elliptical. But at least I can be more accurate about things.

Geez ... 165 lbs. Forty pounds in 17 years. Just to let you know, up until 8th grade or so I was under 100. And by the way, I weighed in at 74.5 kg at that experiment, which translates to just over 164. I've been gaining weight, and I feel like I've been eating a lot, especially in the last week. I need to exercise more.

And one more thing: I don't check to see if I can see my ribs in the bathroom mirror anymore. Haven't done that in a long time. I think the last time I did, I couldn't, and I just got all sad.