Whoopsie! (While Suggestively Biting The Tip Of My Finger)

Oh, I have to tell this story from a stripper party a couple weeks ago. ...

So I was horny, and I liked the talent that was assembled for this party.  I didn't think any of them were going to, you know, play; that would be breaking the host's rules; two of the four dancers that night have obeyed those rules in parties past; one of them was the host herself; and the other one was someone I wasn't familiar with, and so I didn't push the subject with her (didn't matter; she left before I could get a lap dance with her).  But I also didn't think that any of them would tell on the host (or, worse, the bouncer), so I was going to go for it, thinking ... well, I don't know what I thought was going to happen, I just knew there was very little downside.

So one of these girls, one I've known for a long time and have received dances from, was there, and she seemed out of it.  I don't think of her as a bad drinker, and I really thought she was either sick or was having allergies.  Either way, she wasn't her usual on-point self.  That could have been a good thing for my pervertedness; girls like her sometimes have a tendency to let their inhibitions down.  But I have also had experiences where strippers that aren't all there just half-ass their dances to the point where it would've been pointless to whip it out.  At any rate I wanted to give her some business/money, so when I was down there with a different girl and she was finishing up with another person at the couch across from us, I asked her to wait for me.

Luckily, when I got done with that first dance and that dancer went upstairs it was just the two of us.  Time to open up my fly, reeeeeal wiiiiiide!!!  And just like I planned, she was writhing all over my pants, like a good lapdancer would, thereby jostling open the folds of my pants and giving my hard dick the opportunity to stick itself out.  And some point very early it did just that, but it was so imperceptible I wasn't quite sure.

What she did next, however, floored the fuck out of me.  I didn't see it; I took off my glasses, as I usually do, and I think I may have been spacing out and just feeling the sensation of her on my penis and anticipating her "discovering" it.  But then I felt what seemed to be ... OMG! ... bite marks!  And guess what?  I wasn't over the moon by that.  My first thought was, "Huh?"

And, um, that was her first thought, too.  I immediately looked at her, who was looking at my cock, and it looked like it took her a few seconds to realize that she wasn't biting through my pants, but onto the real thing.  Thank God she didn't scream or anything, although that may have been because she was too drunk to say so.  But with a stern voice she said, "You'd better put that shit away."

You may not like how I reacted next.  You may not understand it, especially since I was kind of surprised by her biting me tip.  But that's where I kind of did the old, "Whoopsie!" thing, although I don't think I suggestively bit the tip of my finger.  At any rate, I could hear footsteps coming down the stairs, so I quickly buttoned on of the buttons on my fly, or tried to and failed, I don't remember.

The rest of the dance, however, wasn't that cold.  Maybe she too rebounded from her initial shock, but once I tucked myself back she bit me through my pants.  Hard.  Maybe she was angry that she bit my pee-pee.  Good!  And then, even with a dance going on in full sight, I could feel her shooting her fingers through my pants and rubbing my dick fur back and forth while she was on top of me, kind of like how you'd rub a piece of food that landed on your shirt.  She's never been that frisky before, so maybe she doesn't mind.  And, maybe, that will lead to other things!  A guy can dream!

By the way, I don't think she's pissed.  I've talked to the host and she hasn't brought up my conduct, so I'm guessing she didn't tell her.  She may have been drunk off her ass, so she might not even remember.  We're still Facebook friends, too.  So I might be one step closer to throwing down with her ... or she is very tolerant of me taking it out but is still adamant that I don't do that again.  Like I said, a guy can dream.

Either way, I got a blowjob!  Yay for me!!!

DNS_Probe_Finished_Bad_Config What The Fuck?

Sorry I haven't blogged until now, but I've been having a devil of a time using my computer the past two days because whenever I try to get onto a website it gives me the above-titled warning.  What does that even mean?  I saw it once before, a couple weeks ago, and while researching I was told to flush the DNS cache, whatever the fuck that is.  Well, I did that, but it's doing it again, and I tried flushing it again, but it's still slow.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the processor.  It's old now, but a couple nights ago I was listening to satellite radio for hours, and I guess that takes a huge toll on a computer, because I heard my laptop whir and get really, really hot.  I may have built up my cookies or working memory or something, and that may have been why it was good to "flush" the cache.  That's assuming that that is the problem and that flushing does work.  I don't know.  Maybe it's just old and I need to get a new one soon.  Oh, great: Yet another thing I need to buy.

Getting All Hyped Up For ... The English Premier League?

Went to the Minnesota RollerGirls season party at the old Surly Brewing ... er, brewery last (Friday) night, and I was so drunk that I passed out shortly after watching Washington Week.

Got up around 1, and as all addicts do, the first thing I do is check my phone.  The first particular thing I did was check my Twitter feed.  And one of the tweets that struck me was one from Oliver Kay, Chief Football Correspondent for The Times of London, who took these photos of an empty railway station and railway car that took him to Old Trafford, the stadium for legendary soccer club Manchester United:

Heading to Old Trafford as a new season dawns pic.twitter.com/vAJd8hQF54

— Oliver Kay (@OliverKayTimes) August 8, 2015

It is the calm before the storm: The beginning of the EPL season, which begins today, and in fact a couple hours from now as I type this.

And it was seeing that where I harkened back to all the articles I have read over the week from reporters who themselves anticipated the start of the EPL, and now, right now, I am addicted to it.  It feels like the first Sunday of the National Football League season, the first Saturday of the college football season, or, more traditionally, Opening Day (which is Monday but, for the past several years, not technically the first day since Major League Baseball's first regular season game appears to happen the Sunday night before).  It's a time where you are connected to your young self, where you yourself are in fact born again, and you can revel once again in what feels like an endless supply of installments of a sport that you love.  And, of course, the beginning of the year means that every team's record is 0-0, and therefore your favorite team has a chance to win it all ... until the reality of loss after loss makes you all bitter.  But then, hey, it's the beginning of the season and you're all happy again!  That's what the beginning of a sports league's season does to you, and I understood that giddiness just now.

Or did I?  Thursday night I stayed up a lot longer than I should have revisiting something I did a couple months ago: What should be my favorite EPL team?  I really think that it's best to watch a league that you don't have a hometown team to root for; Lord knows that not having the Vikings would actually make the NFL a little more enjoyable to watch, in my opinion.  Nevertheless having a team to be loyal to is an easy way to get deeper into a league and sport.  So that time a couple months ago I thought if there was a team out there I could pledge allegiance to.

My first instinct was to see if there were any EPL teams that were close to the city of London itself.  After all, I have visited the city twice, so there is no other "hometown" I would belong to than the city proper.  I'm still getting used to the idea that there are many teams that are based in London.  I can barely stand the fact that New York has two teams in nearly every major sport; I mean, how can a city have divided loyalties on sports teams, even one as big as New York City?  Anyway, from this time a couple months back and on Thursday I am seeing that there isn't a team that plays in, like, the touristy parts of London.  The closest ones aren't that close, but they are two of the biggest clubs in not only the league but in all of European football: Chelsea and Arsenal.  I think Chelsea might be closer from downtown (wherever that is), but both of them are located in Zone 2 of the London Underground, so I consider both to be the "closest" London club.

But I thought of it further.  Is proximity the only way to decide on a favorite team?  That doesn't sit entirely well with me.  Also, these are two powerhouse clubs, and I'm not sure I want to be a front-runner and hitch my wagon to a club that already has so many supporters and so much support.  Finally, there's this guy on Chelsea named John Terry, who plays Center Back.  He's a dick and he may also be a racist.  Can't support Chelsea with an asshole like that on the team.  So I have also thought about using another fact to decide on a team: Length of time in the English Premier League, the highest level (consider it the "majors") of the English Football Pyramid.

When researching this vein I came across a particular fact that I like: Since the formation of the EPL in 1992 (which formed when powerhouse clubs such as Chelsea and Arsenal wanted to break from other football clubs that weren't as financially successful as them and think they were only leeching off of them), there have been seven clubs that have stayed there and have avoided relegation to the second-tier every year.  Chelsea and Arsenal are two of them.  The media notes a "Big Four" of super-powerful and -wealthy teams; Liverpool and Manchester United join Chelsea and Arsenal in that group.  But I always root for the underdog.  These four are kind of like the New York Yankees of the EPL, and I fucking hate the Yankees.  Also, Manchester United has had long ties with Rupert Murdoch, the tabloid smut king and conservative shit-stirrer that's sending U.S. politics down the tubes, so although I don't have a team to root for, for a long time I've had a team that I could root against.

The three other teams that have been permanently affixed to the top of the Pyramid are Aston Villa, Everton and Tottenham Hotspur.  Aston Villa was in serious danger of dropping last season, and there are more than a couple prognosticators that say they will this year.  But other than that, I can't decide.  And even if I did, I don't feel that loyalty, that sense of, "Yeah, that feels right!"

So I go further.  I'm now thinking that I can pledge my allegiance to a top-flight (thought not powerhouse) club that is very, very old.  After all, England is the birthplace of soccer; I can at least appreciate a team if they've been around since the beginning of the sport itself.  To research that, I got to, where else, Wikipedia, where I'm still kind of confused as to which really good team has been around the longest.  I guess it's Everton, but they only became "Everton" in 1878.  A team that turned into Everton was founded in 1870, but back then it was called St. Domingo's, and from its Wiki I'm not sure if the name change was accompanied by a restructuring or relocation or what have you.  I may be confused as to what goes into a change with soccer clubs, but it might affect whether or not I think a club was "born" on a particular date.  Anyway, there is no such difference to worry about when it comes to Aston Villa.  They were formed in 1874, as Aston Villa, and they have stayed as Aston Villa to the present day.

So, Aston Villa, I guess.  But wait ... where is Aston Villa?  Oh, in Birmingham.  But I've never been to Birmingham, England.  So why should I root for them?  Why don't I root for a team that's based in a city I've at least been to ... like London?  So it all circles back to Chelsea and Arsenal.  You see my plight now?

Ah, hell, maybe I'll just root for good soccer.

---

So it's 5 o'clock now.  The two downtown pubs are celebrating EPL "Kickoff" by opening their doors at around 6:30; fifteen minutes later comes the first game of the season, Manchester United hosting Tottenham.  I want to go.  But that means I'll have to be up in less than an hour.  I'm pretty awake now, but I'll be crashing like a motherfucker around noon time, and I can't come back until dinnertime at the earliest.  Or, I can not celebrate the start of the season, listen to the body that's been up since 1 and go back to sleep until -- oh, I don't know, 11:30, when Chelsea hosts Swansea to start their seasons.  But what if I can't fall asleep?  Might as well get up, right?

My God, I am at a crossroads.  But what a thrilling anticipation it is!

Turned In My V-Card Yesterday

I don't think I can talk about it, at least now, because I need to process it.  And since this is such a momentous rite of passage, and I think I really need to meditate on this before I blog about it here, and I don't have time to do that, at least not right now.  But, by God, I will.

Let me just say that it wasn't as earth-shattering as I thought it would be.  And maybe there's something wrong with that.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Lynx (Last Week: -1).  Doesn't matter that they trounced Atlanta at home and then beat Tulsa on the road.  I'm worried about how they got outscored 23-10 in the fourth quarter on their way to a 83-61 beatdown at Los Angeles Tuesday.  How is this important?  Right now, there still is a huge gap (about 3 1/2 games) between the top three teams and the bottom three teams in the Western Conference.  Candace Parker just returned for the Sparks; she scored 18 points, hauled in 13 rebounds and was a +23 in her first game back in their win.  So that shows that, though it's theoretically possible that they could jump that chasm, it's becoming much more likely regardless that L.A. will be that fourth team that makes it into the playoff to face the Western Conference champion in the first round of the WNBA Playoffs ... which will probably be Minnesota.  And if that game is any indication, the Jynx have the ability to get blown out, especially with a bench that remains very vulnerable.  I'm telling everyone that there is still something very, very wrong with this squad.

That makes the Sparks' return game at Target Center Sunday evening very important.  That game is sandwiched between a roadie against Phoenix two days before and a home date versus San Antonio two days after.

#-2: Twins (Last Week: -2).  You know what really pisses me off?  When the Twins started their series against Toronto on Ontario's Civic Day Monday, the club was a game ahead of the Blue Jays for American League Wild Card 2.  Yet everyone just believed that the Twinks were sitting ducks and that the BJs were the inevitably better team.  You could feel that belief in the humidity.

And you know what?  That sentiment is totally right.  This (Thursday) evening they play at Rogers Centre one final time to avoid a four-game sweep at the hands of the much better Blue Jays and stop a losing streak that has reached four games.  They are 2-5 for the week.  And, oh, they've fallen out of ALWC2.  There's no way they're going to get that back, and everyone knows that, even Twinks fans.

And this comes on the heels where they simply were lucky to salvage a split against the Seattle Mariners at Target Field over the weekend.  Unlike Toronto, Seattle is below .500 and are a worse team (at least in the standings) than the Twinks, and yet they storm into Minneapolis and take two-of-four.  Nothing's working right now: The lineup has no pop, Miguel Sano has slowed down, Joe Mauer is back in a funk, the relief corps has completely fallen apart to the point they were as bad as I thought they would be when the season started, and now the starting rotation isn't pitching well.  Combine that with a Blue Jays squad with the best offense hands down in the A.L. and the recent acquisition of ace David Price, and of course the Twins were going to be the Blue Jays' bitch this week.

Don't overlook the fact that Toronto was very aggressive in getting a lot of good players before Friday's trade deadline.  Did the Twins do that?  Of course not!  Their only new get was a reliever from the Tampa Bay Rays named Carly Rae Kevin Jepsen, and he basically shit the bed the first time on the mound in a Minnesota uniform.  So other contenders fortified their teams and Minnesota did not, therefore the Twinks are going to blow their lofty perch and wind up fizzling through the rest of the year.

And you know what?  I'm not worried.  Well, let me take that back ... the Twinks should not have been active traders at the deadline Friday.  Because let's face it: They're not winning the World Series this year.  The goal should have been to not be so awful as to lose 90 games.  Right now they're back on a pace to do just that, so maybe you should concentrate on avoiding that.  In the meantime, there are, at least on theory, good places that are going to get better as they get older -- Eddie Rosario, Byron Buxton, Sano, this Jose Berrios kid, some other Pitchers in AAA and AA, etc.  Assuming they are the studs that Baseball America says they will be, they will be World Series contenders later.  That is when you fortify your lineup with that magic players that'll turn everything around.  Not now.  Trading now is incrementally increasing your chances of getting to the Play-In Wild Card Game while mortgaging part of your future.  General Manager Terry Ryan did that, in a minor way, while trading for Jepsen.  Ryan gave up two A Pitchers, one of which, Chih-Wei Hu, projects to be a decent hurler, and someone that could really help the big-league team in three or four years, when the Twinks are supposed to be really, really good.  But he's gone now, traded for a guy who so far hasn't done his job of helping this team today.

There are a lot of people pissed at Ryan for not being more active to help the team now.  Fuck those rubes.  They're just nihilist, selfish people who can't take the long view of anything.  But I do understand the anger.  No one took this team seriously when they were in playoff position, even fans, and we stand utterly helpless as the Twinks are free-falling down the standings.  I don't feel good at all that my hunches about this team are going to be right.  But guess what?  All those rubes upset that the team didn't make any moves and are now losing would be mad if they did make moves and were losing.  In fact, they might be even more livid in that case because then the franchise would have traded good young players that could have helped them in the future.  And that's what people don't seem to understand: We are mad at the Twins right now because they're losing, period.  We should be upset at them for not winning; whether they traded at the deadline or not is irrelevant.  So if you want to get pissed at the team for sucking and choking on ALWC2, have at it.  They deserve it.  But at least give credit to Ryan because he hasn't given up the organization's hope for the future.

Meanwhile the present is going to be painful.  And it's a different kind of pain -- one that trades in the dull boredom of loss for blown potential.  After leaving Toronto tonight, they go to Cleveland for a three-game series over the weekend, then come home to start a trio vs. Texas on Tuesday.

Fuck The Shoes

Last night out of nowhere My Fucking Father yells at me that (and I couldn't completely understand him) that he's going to replace my shoes.  I think he means my slippers, the bottoms and sides of which are starting to tear apart.  It's gotten so bad that when I put my right foot on the ground I can sense the hanging piece of the sole from the heel touch the floor before the rest of my foot does.  That's annoying, but I thought I'd just let it fall off and I can continue on my way.  As usual, however, that isn't good enough for My Fucking Father, who basically told me to change it now.

But then he had to launch yet into another bizarre rant about me.  Again, I couldn't quite comprehend, but he was going on about my shoes and then he said something to the effect of, "You're 40 years old now; why am I changing your shoes?"  Yeah, why are you changing my shoes?  Why do you even give a flying fuck about my shoes?  Why don't you save yourself some angst and stop caring about how I walk around in my shoes and start caring about only your shoes?  In other words, why don't you mind your own goddamn business?

I wanted to be civil with him, but he once again decided to act like a child.  Therefore, I don't think I'll be eating at home the next couple of days.

This One Hurts

Rare are the jobs I got for myself.  All my life my main lines of work I got through the temp agency.  I had no idea what I wanted to do out of college while I was "pursuing" my play-by-play career, so in the meantime I needed work that the world didn't depend on and I could lose in a pinch without consequence.  I kind of am still in that holding pattern, but I think my work ethic has allowed me to find a place in someone's contractor position whenever needed.  It's nowhere what I need, but it's a fallback plan, and in this cruel world, that isn't the worst thing to have.

But this job I interviewed for yesterday, that was all me.  No temp agency, no middle man.  I just heard about this sports company, and I was like, "Yeah, they do sports, that would be right up my alley and something that uses my degree!"  And so, after months of back-and-forth, unemployment finally allowed me to come in and interview and take their tests.  I was afraid I would fuck this up, and I am so rusty (well, bad) when it comes to meeting new people that I didn't really prepare.  Hey, if it happens, it happens, that's what I always believe!

I was there for an hour and I think it went well.  I thought I was fast with typing, and even though I didn't get all the trivia questions correct I think I did enough.  And I was looking at the interviewer and answering her questions.  May have went a little too long with some answers, but I had to explain that there may be the occasional conflict over weekends this fall because I have alumni club stuff to do on Saturdays and maybe work on Sundays.  She told me she'd run it by her bosses.

Well, I got an e-mail from her that I read last night.  I got rejected.  My commitments to my alumni club preclude working there.  They think Saturday's college football games will be so important that they need people there, and working around my schedule, I guess, isn't good enough.  You know, right now I hate that I'm a part of the alumni club.

This one hurts.  Yes, it's only part-time and they pay shit (they don't have to worry about paying a decent hourly wage because you have loser sports geeks like me who'll work for minimum wage if it involves watching sports), but I gravitated to this job because I was actually interested in the job itself, something that I can't say for a lot of jobs I've had.  So to not have my interest requited -- possibly because of schedule conflicts, but really, who knows? -- is, well, devastating.

The interviewer said in the e-mail that I could come back for basketball season in the winter.  But if their problem with me goes beyond scheduling, should I go back?  In the meantime I have lost one very appealing option.  All of this is pushing me back into school.  Meanwhile I might have to grovel back to the temp agency to find work.  Now?  Well ... now I go back on the dole and masturbate because I am sad.  Frankly, now I don't know what to do.

They're Nickel-And-Dimeing Me

So after the party I treated myself.  First, since I was in the area, I decided to cash in on the deal I made with LivingSocial and eat at this really nice restaurant at a "gentrifying" part of town.  Ate pork to my heart's delight, although I'm shitting the consequences virtually as we speak.  I then decompressed further by marching into My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) for the first time since that ripoff bitch/stripper/waitress lit into me.  I had a busy day, I was drunk and I didn't give a good goddamn about what she thought of me, so if she got pissed I wasn't going to tip to her satisfaction, well, she can go fuck herself.

But she wasn't there.  Instead I got the other stripper/waitress who a long time ago gave up on serving me coffee.  That's fine.  To prove that I'm not cheap, I took that other bitch's advice and went up to the bar and order a soft drink.  The bartender, who's been there a long time, got it for me, no problem.  I gave him five bucks for something that was $2.50, and I was totally going to give him a buck tip because hey, look at me, I'm not cheap!!!

But then I got $2.25 in change.  Wait ... the pop is now $2.75, and not $2.50.  They raised the price of it by a fucking quarter?!  You've got to be fucking kidding me.  It's just fucking pop.

You know what?  I think they're trying to push me out.  They are slowly raising prices, kind of like how you slowly raise the temperature of a boiling pot of water so that the lobster stays in the pot so you can kill it.  I don't know why you would want to do that to me, a perfect gentleman who has always followed the rules while at the bar.  I tip the strippers just fine; if not, they would have complained by now.  I just don't tip anybody else.  And that, apparently, is a problem.

You know what?  Many times I just waltz in, tip the strippers and leave without getting a drink.  No one complains.  Fuck it, I'm just going to do that from now on.  It'll save myself three bucks.

My Mother's Parenting, For The Next Generation

Ever since my niece was born I thought that my parents have mellowed out.  (Well, actually that's just Mother; Father remains very hands-off whenever they get to babysit her, although he apparently loves to get pictures of her.)  It would make sense; they can be nicer to her because they don't have to raise her.  It's so weird to see Mother (and Father to a lesser extent) smile, laugh, and act goofy around her -- basically to act like a grandmother.

I know that she didn't act that way around me.  The few memories I have of her (and that's only partially because I was young; I am sure that she worked so often at their businesses that she obviated parenting responsibility to Grandmother) are bad.  I remember my brother and I playing in the front yard and she would come out, screaming either at us or Grandmother to yell at us.  I remember her slapping my hand when I opened a lighter.  And she beat me.  A lot.  I mean, a lot.  Really, whenever she didn't beat me she was yelling at me.  She was so bad that I grew up fearing her -- and, when I got a little older, hating her.  She's mellowed out in my early adult years as Father turned into My Fucking Father, but I will never, ever forget nor forgive what she did to me when I was young.  She's half the reason I'm not going to have kids.

The parenting "skills" Mother exhibited on me, I'm afraid, came to the fore last (Saturday) evening, when my brother and sister-in-law left their daughter at home for us (mostly Mother but I sat and looked at her a long time too) so they could do some stuff around this part of town.  Mother was her bubbly self as we ate dinner and my niece was grabbing things.  After Mother got finished eating she sat her granddaughter on the couch to feed her; I was too tuckered out walking around the lake and watching babes, then watching this baby, so I retreated into the bedroom.  While I was tweeted about tomorrow's party I hear, "What?  You're not going to eat?  I'll beat your ass!  Your mother and father aren't here, so I'll beat your ass if you don't eat!"

Oh no.  Then I thought, Oh, hell no.  And then I thought, Oh, fuck no.  As tired as I was, I got up off of my bed and marched out to the living room to make sure she doesn't slap her, and I didn't give two flying fucks if she wasn't eating.  But she was, and because of that, Mother turned all happy and smiling and making coo-coo noises again, because her niece obeyed her.

I wonder if Mother understands how two-faced she just became.  Was she raised that being sweet to a baby, then threatening her, looks weird to a third party?  It seemed fucked up to me when she was doing that to me.  That's why I've grown to never truly love her like a child is supposed to love his/her mother.

My niece didn't finish all of her food, but instead of beating her, Mother relented and took her to the bathroom to wipe her face.  Phew, she didn't go completely crazy.  So I went back to my bedroom to tweet stuff.  Then my brother and sister-in-law came home, and so I sauntered back out to say goodbye to them and to my niece.  But for some reason they sat down in the living room and just hung out while Mother continued to play with my niece (and Father was all the way in the dining room, just admiring his granddaughter).

Then Mother started to do this thing where she would "scare" her, or at least throw her hands at her and scream.  Eventually my niece started to yell, loud, every single time Mother did that.  Man, she can scream.  But while she wasn't crying, like I probably would if I had some stranger I only saw at night try to come at me, I never got the feeling that she was yelling in exhortation.  I think she was scared.  And Mother kept doing that, without stopping once to consider what my niece might be going through.

What happened next floored me.  As Mother kept frightening my niece and my niece kept screaming every time she did that, my brother yelled his daughter, "Stop yelling!"  It's the first time I've ever seen him act nasty toward her.  But she didn't tell his mom, Mother, to stop.  He was telling my niece to shut up.  Why?  Couldn't he see that my niece was yelling only because Mother kept scaring her?  I don't think Mother has the self-awareness (or maybe even the intelligence) to comprehend what she is doing, but my brother is college-educated.  What's his fucking excuse?

I have one theory: He likes being "old school."  I'll tell you guys a secret: I think Mother has always liked my brother more than me.  Growing up I can count numerous times where she came down hard on me while giving my brother a pass.  (My Grandmother was the complete opposite.  I don't know if that was in reaction to how Mother treated the both of us, but that has to be the reason why I gravitate and continue to be loyal to Grandmother even after Mother has put her out of mind.)  So if that's the case, he will endorse Mother's "parenting skills" and incorporate them into his own.

That, to me, if true, is absolutely despicable.  That would mean that, to paraphrase the famous axiom, the sins committed by the mother is continued by the son.  Now I have even more reason not to have kids: I don't want them raising them, at all.  And I fear, I really, really am frightened, how he (and by extension, I'm afraid, his wife) treats my niece behind closed doors, without me around.

I Think I Lost Him For Good

Well, the big day's tomorrow.  I've been told that everything is squared away, which means it obviously isn't.  But I don't know what to do because I'm scared that I'll do something wrong if I don't do something but I'm just as scared that I'll do something wrong if I do do something.  Tomorrow is going to suck.

And it would help if I'm able to bounce ideas off of my VP.  But he's busy getting on with his life and, basically, doing stuff away from me.  We're not best buds or anything, so I'm not saying that he should be by my side every day.  But this week?  Uh, yeah.  However, he can't; he just moved, he got married, he bought a house and he's moving up north.  So the VP is not going to be around for the most important weekend of the club's calendar.

Before I spiral down my tornado of self-pity, I will have to say that he told me all of these plans a few months ago.  Also, this event initially was to have taken place last week, so if that were still the case, he would have been around.  I think.  OK, with all that said, a part of me, frankly, is upset at what he's doing or not doing.  You know, this is kind of important, man, and it'd be nice if someone else could help out and be part of the decision-making, because sure as fuck don't know what to do.

But there's another part that thinks that this is the end result of my failure as President.  I got this job because only he and I showed up, and he was more worried than I that he would be able to plan things.  I told everybody flat out that I don't think I would have the ability to grow this club as it should be tended to.  I still got it, and he is my wingman.

Nevertheless I feel bad that I've done only the bare minimum of what this position requires of me.  And even though the VP heard me say that I wouldn't be much good, I think that's where I lost him, and where he started to, well, not do his job to the best of his capabilities, either.  The first, and maybe big, thing I did/didn't do is not hold regular meetings.  We're supposed to update "the board" on what's happening, how are finances, what events we need to plan, etc.  I knew from the outset that we're not meeting monthly.  I don't have the time.  Plus, I don't have time for events, if we can't plan events, what's the use of meeting?  Shoot, the previous Prez didn't hold regular meetings, either (although he did more than I have).

When we actually came around to talking about things -- and it may have had something to do with last year's party, where I got undermined -- he kind of let me know he didn't like that.  He said something to the effect of, "I don't feel like I'm in the loop, and if this club needs to have things be done, well, we should talk about it."  And I agreed with him because I agree with him.  And then life got in the way, and so I think we had two more meetings, total.  I texted him some more, but that was it.

We meet at a restaurant for games.  When it started out, lo so many years ago, he and I were the only two to show up virtually every week.  This year, however, he started to not.  And for the big games to finish last year, he called me and said he and his fiancee had to visit folks out-of-state, so he wouldn't be there.  To be fair, he was the only to show up when he had a game earlier in the season.  But without him, it was just me.  I wonder if I was more of an actual President he would have worked around it.  Well, probably not; he was about to get married, and so maybe he needed to break the news to his family over the holidays.  But maybe not.

And now we get to here.  I think they are just relaxing at their new place over the weekend.  Guess they could drive all the way down here.  Yes, they could.  Yesterday I think I saw a Facebook picture of the view from his backdeck, a cup of coffee posed still life-style nestled in the unfocused forest spooling infinitely behind it.  Yeah, I wouldn't want to leave that, either ... but I would to help out his Prez for a weekend.

See, I want to be mad at him, but I don't know what to see if he wants to hurl accusations of, "Well, you're not doing anything!  Why they hell should I come down?"  And I would just stammer something like, "Well, uh ..." and then hold my penis in my hand because I couldn't think of anything else to say.  That is where that kind of conversation would go, so I don't even bother starting it.

So here I am.  Everybody I know seems to be copasetic about it, and maybe there is nothing to worry about.  But I'll be going to Taco Bell and exercising and I know I'll get blindsided by something really bad, and I won't know what to do about it.  Someone else in on the planning could help me see that.  But he's tearing away from the board, the club, and me.  Did I drive him away?