I did it! I finally bit the bullet and bought a new laptop. It's a Dell XPS 13, probably the highest-recommended lap out there right now. Got it at a huge discount because I went the open-box route, so I'm still kind of hesitant to believe it completely works, and there was one website where it looked weird, for lack of a better phrase. But I bought it Saturday, booted it up and added security Monday and started really fucking around with it last (Tuesday) night, and so far, can't complain. Well, it's not as fast going from page to page like I thought it would be. But than again the processor on my decade-old computer is completely shot, so anything going from site to site on the Dell would be an infinite advantage.
My initial plan is to still use my old computer for office work (Word and Excel), and because it has the 10-key, calculating my expenses each month. I spend most of my time online, and that is what I want to use the Dell for. But this is so expensive I am still hesitant to take this out for fear it will get stolen. But if it works so much better than my old computer, I might not have a choice.
As giddy as I allow myself to be for anything.
Wednesday, August 9, 2017
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
Have to say that this morning I am feeling extremely full, as full as I have ever felt waking up in the morning. I am at my local Caribou (told my parents [well, at least Mother] that I'm going to the doctor today -- it's kind of a lie; I'm not going to the doctor, but she knows I'm not working, at least in the morning) and taking in their two items for $5 promotion. Although there were more expensive food items on Caribou's menu, I am taking advantage of it, getting a large mocha and a muffin. I'll get a ham & gruyere pretzel roll next time.
Unfortunately, I am consuming these on a full stomach. A very full stomach. I don't think I ate a whole lot last night. Well, I had rotella and chicken -- dinner was good last night. And then I had a Coke around midnight. Man, drinking soft drinks makes me more and more bloated the older I get. That combination, if not the Coke itself, probably is why I feel as though I don't have to eat this morning. But I am. And I have a busy (if not long) day ahead of me -- going downtown to get my shoes polished and to finally divest myself of my Hong Kong money, then getting to the early screening of Wonder Woman in time, then ... well, I guess there's nothing else I have to do after that. But I'm still busy.
Unfortunately, I am consuming these on a full stomach. A very full stomach. I don't think I ate a whole lot last night. Well, I had rotella and chicken -- dinner was good last night. And then I had a Coke around midnight. Man, drinking soft drinks makes me more and more bloated the older I get. That combination, if not the Coke itself, probably is why I feel as though I don't have to eat this morning. But I am. And I have a busy (if not long) day ahead of me -- going downtown to get my shoes polished and to finally divest myself of my Hong Kong money, then getting to the early screening of Wonder Woman in time, then ... well, I guess there's nothing else I have to do after that. But I'm still busy.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Goodbye, My Favorite Late Night Italian Place; Tackling Shutterfly
OK, so it was not technically My Favorite Late Night Italian Place's last day last (Sunday) night. The owner is selling it. But unless something major happens -- and she's afraid that the new owners won't show up to sign the papers this (Monday) afternoon -- Sunday was her last day working there and owning the place.
Just like I thought it would be, it was packed that evening. When I go there I am often the only one. But then again, I go there close to midnight, not during dinnertime. Anyway it was packed, and I like to think it was because they heard it was her last day. For sentimentality's sake, I got what was from my early days eating at My Favorite Late Night Italian Place my go-to dish: spaghetti with a side salad.
Shortly before I finished my meal the owner came out from the kitchen where she was busy all night. We talked, I wished her well, I got a picture from her, and for the first time ever, we embraced each other. Then her family took out the cake (ice cream cake from Dairy Queen ... had a piece ... man, haven't had DQ ice cream cake in years) wishing her well in her retirement. And that's when her son reached out to hold her ... and she laid her head on her shoulder and held him for a long, long time. We talked afterward and she was wiping the tears from her eyes.
This is bittersweet to her. But from our conversations, from both last night and a few weeks ago, she is ready to stop. I hope she does.
I may not see her ever again. But at least I have her picture. I should make it my Facebook profile pic for the week.
---
There is one week before this promotional free book on Mother's Shutterfly expires. She has wanted me to generate a photo book for my niece, and it's been a struggle to 1) upload the photos, 2) teach Mother how to upload the photos, and 3) understand how Shutterfly works.
I still don't know how Shutterfly works, but this free book offer expires Sunday, and we're no where near getting it done. I tried to make headway since Mother says she has uploaded the pictures she has of her granddaughter, but I ran into a roadblock. Apparently Shutterfly just insists that we pick the style of each page for the photobook -- you know, we have to get creative. Mother and I both thought that we could just order up the book, show Shutterfly the photos and say, "Here, do it."
Instead we are asked to pick the style of each of the pages, and the front cover too. There are dozens of formats to choose from -- one photo per page, two, five, 11 for two-page spreads, text only, pictures and text, etc. Not only do we have to determine which styles to use, we also have to choose which pictures go where. Right now I'm not sure we can put in all 200+ photos of my niece; I thought that was a given. So now we have to do triage and select several for this book. And what if the book is not free after all, or if the book is free but technically we still have to pay for the photos or something? If that's the case, I know Mother will say "Forget it" and we'll never even think about this project again, because she would feel she got suckered into a raw deal.
Because of this overwhelming task, we are to sit down in front of her computer Monday and figure this out. Pray for both of us.
Just like I thought it would be, it was packed that evening. When I go there I am often the only one. But then again, I go there close to midnight, not during dinnertime. Anyway it was packed, and I like to think it was because they heard it was her last day. For sentimentality's sake, I got what was from my early days eating at My Favorite Late Night Italian Place my go-to dish: spaghetti with a side salad.
Shortly before I finished my meal the owner came out from the kitchen where she was busy all night. We talked, I wished her well, I got a picture from her, and for the first time ever, we embraced each other. Then her family took out the cake (ice cream cake from Dairy Queen ... had a piece ... man, haven't had DQ ice cream cake in years) wishing her well in her retirement. And that's when her son reached out to hold her ... and she laid her head on her shoulder and held him for a long, long time. We talked afterward and she was wiping the tears from her eyes.
This is bittersweet to her. But from our conversations, from both last night and a few weeks ago, she is ready to stop. I hope she does.
I may not see her ever again. But at least I have her picture. I should make it my Facebook profile pic for the week.
---
There is one week before this promotional free book on Mother's Shutterfly expires. She has wanted me to generate a photo book for my niece, and it's been a struggle to 1) upload the photos, 2) teach Mother how to upload the photos, and 3) understand how Shutterfly works.
I still don't know how Shutterfly works, but this free book offer expires Sunday, and we're no where near getting it done. I tried to make headway since Mother says she has uploaded the pictures she has of her granddaughter, but I ran into a roadblock. Apparently Shutterfly just insists that we pick the style of each page for the photobook -- you know, we have to get creative. Mother and I both thought that we could just order up the book, show Shutterfly the photos and say, "Here, do it."
Instead we are asked to pick the style of each of the pages, and the front cover too. There are dozens of formats to choose from -- one photo per page, two, five, 11 for two-page spreads, text only, pictures and text, etc. Not only do we have to determine which styles to use, we also have to choose which pictures go where. Right now I'm not sure we can put in all 200+ photos of my niece; I thought that was a given. So now we have to do triage and select several for this book. And what if the book is not free after all, or if the book is free but technically we still have to pay for the photos or something? If that's the case, I know Mother will say "Forget it" and we'll never even think about this project again, because she would feel she got suckered into a raw deal.
Because of this overwhelming task, we are to sit down in front of her computer Monday and figure this out. Pray for both of us.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
My Fucking Father is on one of his cleaning jags again. Stomping around and wiping shit down all morning. He was complaining so much about his bad foot yesterday morning that he wanted me to mow the lawn for him. (I couldn't. I had work. Seriously.) But when I came home from Glam Doll last night I saw that the grass was all mowed, and now this. Bad foot my ass.
And because this fucking red mist of sterility descended upon him, I knew he was going to chastise me again for not cleaning my room up to his specifications. But this time, on my way out the door, he opened my bedroom door (which I left ajar because I knew he was going to tear through it), and he specifically pointed out the stuff on my nightstand, I think. He seemed kind of angry, too, moreso than usual. It makes me think that he might actually clean that shit out, which would piss me the fuck off.
Man, I just wanted a Sunday where I could see the golf tournament. I might get into an argument with My Fucking Father instead.
And because this fucking red mist of sterility descended upon him, I knew he was going to chastise me again for not cleaning my room up to his specifications. But this time, on my way out the door, he opened my bedroom door (which I left ajar because I knew he was going to tear through it), and he specifically pointed out the stuff on my nightstand, I think. He seemed kind of angry, too, moreso than usual. It makes me think that he might actually clean that shit out, which would piss me the fuck off.
Man, I just wanted a Sunday where I could see the golf tournament. I might get into an argument with My Fucking Father instead.
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey (Scheduled Post)
#-1: Lynx (Last Week: -1). In an overall down week for local sports, the Lynx are, once again, on top, but this week they suffered what potentially could be a season-ruining injury. Maybe. In their 69-54 home victory over Atlanta Thursday (they also beat Seattle Sunday at Xcel, 93-82), Point Guard Lindsay Whalen broke her hand. She has had surgery on it, but there is no definite timetable on when she can come back. The typical recovery period is three-to-four weeks, which would mean that she would be back around Labor Day, just as the WNBA regular season is coming to a close.
That actually could be a blessing in disguise. The squad has already sewn up a playoff spot, and at 20-2 they are three games clear of the Los Angeles Sparks for home-court advantage throughout the playoffs. Head Coach Cheryl Reeve said that she does not want her team to throttle down and coast for the rest of the year. But let's face it -- only a complete collapse would knock the Lynx off the best record in the league. The season that actually matters comes next month. Resting Sylvia Fowles and Maya Moore and Rebekkah Brunson and Seimone Augustus should be paramount. That would give the bench serious minutes and hone them into game shape just in case they are needed in a pinch in the playoffs.
And not to browbeat on Whalen, but the Lynx sent four players to the WNBA All-Star Game. Guess which starter didn't go? I'm not saying she's expandable; I've seen many games in person where the offense stagnates without her vision and creativity. But Renee Montgomery is a capable back-up, and her youth compared to Whalen gives her an athleticism that is a necessary change-of-pace in a postseason contest. Whalen's absence probably impacts the rotation the least of any of the starting five. And besides, they have a month's worth of games for Whalen to fully heal from her broken hand, and she will have a few regular season games at the end of the season for her to get back into fighting trim and for the starters to rediscover their chemistry. They're playing with house money, but only if they don't play as if they're fighting for a playoff spot, because that's the worst thing this club can do right now.
A relatively busy week for the Lynx: At Indiana Sunday, at Atlanta Tuesday, then hosting The Only Other Team That Matters, the Sparks, at home Friday.
#-2: Twins (Last Week: -3). The slide continues. The Twinks' 2-4 screening week puts them four games below .500, and with Cleveland and Kansas City playing well if not lights-out, it's over for these guys for 2017. It was fun while it lasted.
The fans have quit on this season the same way as the front office has. Before the July 31 trade deadline, Chief Baseball Officer Derek Falvey and General Manager Thad Levine went into sell mode. The short, strange trip of Jaime Garcia did come to fruition as he was flipped to the Yankees in exchange for two prospects. (Garcia left the Twins and went back to Atlanta -- he was traded to the Twins from the Braves -- to pick up his things to take to his new team. There, he was informed that instead of going to the Twin Cities, he was to fly to New York instead. Think about that; he played for Minnesota once, on the road -- he never played in the city he was initially traded to.) And then they traded Closer Brandon Kintzler to The Bastard Montreal Expos. So now they don't have a stopgap grinder on the mound and they're going with one of the many anonymous arms in the bullpen to end games -- assuming they're leading in the ninth, of course. Falvey and Levine has responded to this dearth of development by firing four scouts last (Saturday) night.
The season isn't without its bright spot. A big bright spot. Bartolo Colon became the oldest Twin in a quarter-century to go the distance in Friday's 8-4 win at Target over The Bastard Washington Senators v.2.0. Just last week he was contemplating instant retirement. He might still retire, but let's be honest; with Jose Berrios not being able to go to the late innings, Adelberto Mejia still finding himself and Kyle Gibson seemingly on his last chance to stick with the organization, the 44-year-old nicknamed "Big Sexy" may be, behind Ervin Santana (who was masterful in going the distance in Wednesday's 5-2 win in San Diego), the best starting pitcher on the team. The Twins might want to make a play for him in the offseason.
In the meantime the Twinks are going to try and salvage a split with the Rangers this (Sunday) afternoon. They then play a split four-game series with The Bastard Seattle Pilots -- two here, then two there. The Nine will then stay on the road for a three-game series vs. a team that had high aspirations this season but conducted a fire sale earlier in the week, the Detroit Tigers, starting on Friday.
#-3: United FC (Last Week: -2). If the Loons were going to contend for a postseason berth in their expansion year, they had to capitalize on their five-game, five-week homestand that comprised the month of July and bled into August. Instead, they won once, drew once and lost three times, and they were shut out in four of those five games.
So in other words, it's over. No playoffs. They're fighting to avoid being the worst Major League Soccer this season, and luckily, they are only third-worst. Nevertheless, like the 3-0 drubbing by visitors the New York Red Bulls on the 22nd, Saturday night's 4-0 ass-kicking at the hands of the Seattle Sounders (whose fans travel and, therefore, I now hate them as much as My Asshole Brother) was dreadful. The match actually sold out; more than 22,000 people (ignore the empty upper bowl, guys) saw an expansion team get their teeth kicked in by a side by the defending MLS champs who have finally found their footing after a slow start. A bit after those guys made it 3-0, the crowd started to escape from Das Bank, and I retreated to looking at my Facebook and Twitter.
(I will say that through this long homestand I think the crowds have steadily increased. It may be the repeated times casual fans and curious locals had to snag at least one game, or maybe it was the Twins' slow slide to irrelevance, or maybe it was the dog days of summer that convinced people to check out something new. But interest, at least in a one-night-stand kind of way, has been working. Now, I also think that a good effort, or even a win, would make them fans, but, well, baby steps.)
I need to constantly remind myself that this is an expansion team, this is an expansion team. But routs like this are hard to watch. Injuries to Christian Ramirez and Brent Kallman may have meant better form, but it was clear that the Sounders were going to win as soon as they scored -- very early in the first half, like all of United's opponents seemingly have done. It's getting to be a tired act.
They have a home-and-home with Seattle, but MNUFC's return date isn't until the 20th.
That actually could be a blessing in disguise. The squad has already sewn up a playoff spot, and at 20-2 they are three games clear of the Los Angeles Sparks for home-court advantage throughout the playoffs. Head Coach Cheryl Reeve said that she does not want her team to throttle down and coast for the rest of the year. But let's face it -- only a complete collapse would knock the Lynx off the best record in the league. The season that actually matters comes next month. Resting Sylvia Fowles and Maya Moore and Rebekkah Brunson and Seimone Augustus should be paramount. That would give the bench serious minutes and hone them into game shape just in case they are needed in a pinch in the playoffs.
And not to browbeat on Whalen, but the Lynx sent four players to the WNBA All-Star Game. Guess which starter didn't go? I'm not saying she's expandable; I've seen many games in person where the offense stagnates without her vision and creativity. But Renee Montgomery is a capable back-up, and her youth compared to Whalen gives her an athleticism that is a necessary change-of-pace in a postseason contest. Whalen's absence probably impacts the rotation the least of any of the starting five. And besides, they have a month's worth of games for Whalen to fully heal from her broken hand, and she will have a few regular season games at the end of the season for her to get back into fighting trim and for the starters to rediscover their chemistry. They're playing with house money, but only if they don't play as if they're fighting for a playoff spot, because that's the worst thing this club can do right now.
A relatively busy week for the Lynx: At Indiana Sunday, at Atlanta Tuesday, then hosting The Only Other Team That Matters, the Sparks, at home Friday.
#-2: Twins (Last Week: -3). The slide continues. The Twinks' 2-4 screening week puts them four games below .500, and with Cleveland and Kansas City playing well if not lights-out, it's over for these guys for 2017. It was fun while it lasted.
The fans have quit on this season the same way as the front office has. Before the July 31 trade deadline, Chief Baseball Officer Derek Falvey and General Manager Thad Levine went into sell mode. The short, strange trip of Jaime Garcia did come to fruition as he was flipped to the Yankees in exchange for two prospects. (Garcia left the Twins and went back to Atlanta -- he was traded to the Twins from the Braves -- to pick up his things to take to his new team. There, he was informed that instead of going to the Twin Cities, he was to fly to New York instead. Think about that; he played for Minnesota once, on the road -- he never played in the city he was initially traded to.) And then they traded Closer Brandon Kintzler to The Bastard Montreal Expos. So now they don't have a stopgap grinder on the mound and they're going with one of the many anonymous arms in the bullpen to end games -- assuming they're leading in the ninth, of course. Falvey and Levine has responded to this dearth of development by firing four scouts last (Saturday) night.
The season isn't without its bright spot. A big bright spot. Bartolo Colon became the oldest Twin in a quarter-century to go the distance in Friday's 8-4 win at Target over The Bastard Washington Senators v.2.0. Just last week he was contemplating instant retirement. He might still retire, but let's be honest; with Jose Berrios not being able to go to the late innings, Adelberto Mejia still finding himself and Kyle Gibson seemingly on his last chance to stick with the organization, the 44-year-old nicknamed "Big Sexy" may be, behind Ervin Santana (who was masterful in going the distance in Wednesday's 5-2 win in San Diego), the best starting pitcher on the team. The Twins might want to make a play for him in the offseason.
In the meantime the Twinks are going to try and salvage a split with the Rangers this (Sunday) afternoon. They then play a split four-game series with The Bastard Seattle Pilots -- two here, then two there. The Nine will then stay on the road for a three-game series vs. a team that had high aspirations this season but conducted a fire sale earlier in the week, the Detroit Tigers, starting on Friday.
#-3: United FC (Last Week: -2). If the Loons were going to contend for a postseason berth in their expansion year, they had to capitalize on their five-game, five-week homestand that comprised the month of July and bled into August. Instead, they won once, drew once and lost three times, and they were shut out in four of those five games.
So in other words, it's over. No playoffs. They're fighting to avoid being the worst Major League Soccer this season, and luckily, they are only third-worst. Nevertheless, like the 3-0 drubbing by visitors the New York Red Bulls on the 22nd, Saturday night's 4-0 ass-kicking at the hands of the Seattle Sounders (whose fans travel and, therefore, I now hate them as much as My Asshole Brother) was dreadful. The match actually sold out; more than 22,000 people (ignore the empty upper bowl, guys) saw an expansion team get their teeth kicked in by a side by the defending MLS champs who have finally found their footing after a slow start. A bit after those guys made it 3-0, the crowd started to escape from Das Bank, and I retreated to looking at my Facebook and Twitter.
(I will say that through this long homestand I think the crowds have steadily increased. It may be the repeated times casual fans and curious locals had to snag at least one game, or maybe it was the Twins' slow slide to irrelevance, or maybe it was the dog days of summer that convinced people to check out something new. But interest, at least in a one-night-stand kind of way, has been working. Now, I also think that a good effort, or even a win, would make them fans, but, well, baby steps.)
I need to constantly remind myself that this is an expansion team, this is an expansion team. But routs like this are hard to watch. Injuries to Christian Ramirez and Brent Kallman may have meant better form, but it was clear that the Sounders were going to win as soon as they scored -- very early in the first half, like all of United's opponents seemingly have done. It's getting to be a tired act.
They have a home-and-home with Seattle, but MNUFC's return date isn't until the 20th.
Saturday, August 5, 2017
RIP, My Favorite Late Night Italian Place
Got the news from my friend, who goes there every Saturday, that My Favorite Late Night Italian Place just got sold.
Oh wait ... have I told you yet about the Late Night Italian Place being up for sale? Shoot, I don't think I have, have I?
Yeah, I had reduced the times I've gone here to about once a month, if that, because my parents stayed in Minnesota through the winter and so I didn't have to eat there because I was eating at home. I was just driving by it many months ago when I saw this huge "For Sale" sign on the grass. I nearly drove my car into a ditch.
The few times I subsequently popped in there I didn't really address the elephant in the room. Well, I take that back. I think the first time I was able to eat there I talked to the owner of the place. I think she's there every day, just like my parents with The Store. She was matter-of-fact about it -- "Yeah, I put it up for sale -- let's see if someone wants it."
She spoke a little longer about it when I ate there almost a month ago. She's tired and wants to retire. I told her that it is kind of a shock to me, and I liken this to when my folks decided they wanted to quit The Store. At first I was furious that they would do such a thing because, in my selfish, juvenile and ridiculous mind, that is how I'd always known them to be, and they would be betraying my image of them if they just quit, even though they're old and of course you're supposed to quit at that age. It took me several years to accept it, but now I understand.
As I am beginning to understand with her, someone who's always been hospitable to me. She let me stay there for hours on weekend nights. While other people were partying and drinking, introverted me sought refuge there. Since nobody sat down to eat that late at night (they did most of their business delivering) I had the place to myself. I nearly always had my table, the one closest to the power strip so I could plug my laptop in and surf the Internet while eating pizza or hamburgers or chicken or one of their many pasta dishes, especially the fettucine alfredo, which I have gravitated toward within the past year or so because My Favorite Late Night Italian Place has these coupons for pasta dishes for $7.50. I spent many a Friday and Saturday night "living it up" while eating, watching sports and being on the Internet until they closed on weekends at 2:30 in the morning.
With all the security and hospitality she's given me, it'd be unfair to be angry with her now that she decided she no longer wanted to own and work there. She's earned her rest. How can I be mad?
My friend, who I met because he always goes there on Friday nights, said she sold the place to a couple. Guess they're now pursuing their dream of owning their own restaurant. The American Dream is passed onto another, the way it should be. And yet ... well, you know, restaurants aren't always the same under new ownership. In fact, they usually aren't. Not that I'm upset with that either. The owner owns the restaurant, he/she/they have a right to run it however they want, and in fact it would make sense for these two to redo the menu because they'll be the ones cooking it. But will I have the rapport with that couple the way I did with this owner? Will they let me just veg out in front of the TV for two or three hours? I don't know, and it's that initial trepidation that makes me start to think I'll have to look for another late-night place to sit in when I want to feel like I'm going out when I'm really not. Either I look for another place, or I will realize that I won't have My Favorite Late Night Italian Place anymore.
At any case the change is coming quick. The owner's last day as owner is Sunday. I wonder if it's going to be packed. If not, I want to sit and eat there one final time. If it is, I'll pop in and say goodbye.
RIP. Maybe I'll see you again soon.
Oh wait ... have I told you yet about the Late Night Italian Place being up for sale? Shoot, I don't think I have, have I?
Yeah, I had reduced the times I've gone here to about once a month, if that, because my parents stayed in Minnesota through the winter and so I didn't have to eat there because I was eating at home. I was just driving by it many months ago when I saw this huge "For Sale" sign on the grass. I nearly drove my car into a ditch.
The few times I subsequently popped in there I didn't really address the elephant in the room. Well, I take that back. I think the first time I was able to eat there I talked to the owner of the place. I think she's there every day, just like my parents with The Store. She was matter-of-fact about it -- "Yeah, I put it up for sale -- let's see if someone wants it."
She spoke a little longer about it when I ate there almost a month ago. She's tired and wants to retire. I told her that it is kind of a shock to me, and I liken this to when my folks decided they wanted to quit The Store. At first I was furious that they would do such a thing because, in my selfish, juvenile and ridiculous mind, that is how I'd always known them to be, and they would be betraying my image of them if they just quit, even though they're old and of course you're supposed to quit at that age. It took me several years to accept it, but now I understand.
As I am beginning to understand with her, someone who's always been hospitable to me. She let me stay there for hours on weekend nights. While other people were partying and drinking, introverted me sought refuge there. Since nobody sat down to eat that late at night (they did most of their business delivering) I had the place to myself. I nearly always had my table, the one closest to the power strip so I could plug my laptop in and surf the Internet while eating pizza or hamburgers or chicken or one of their many pasta dishes, especially the fettucine alfredo, which I have gravitated toward within the past year or so because My Favorite Late Night Italian Place has these coupons for pasta dishes for $7.50. I spent many a Friday and Saturday night "living it up" while eating, watching sports and being on the Internet until they closed on weekends at 2:30 in the morning.
With all the security and hospitality she's given me, it'd be unfair to be angry with her now that she decided she no longer wanted to own and work there. She's earned her rest. How can I be mad?
My friend, who I met because he always goes there on Friday nights, said she sold the place to a couple. Guess they're now pursuing their dream of owning their own restaurant. The American Dream is passed onto another, the way it should be. And yet ... well, you know, restaurants aren't always the same under new ownership. In fact, they usually aren't. Not that I'm upset with that either. The owner owns the restaurant, he/she/they have a right to run it however they want, and in fact it would make sense for these two to redo the menu because they'll be the ones cooking it. But will I have the rapport with that couple the way I did with this owner? Will they let me just veg out in front of the TV for two or three hours? I don't know, and it's that initial trepidation that makes me start to think I'll have to look for another late-night place to sit in when I want to feel like I'm going out when I'm really not. Either I look for another place, or I will realize that I won't have My Favorite Late Night Italian Place anymore.
At any case the change is coming quick. The owner's last day as owner is Sunday. I wonder if it's going to be packed. If not, I want to sit and eat there one final time. If it is, I'll pop in and say goodbye.
RIP. Maybe I'll see you again soon.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Damn Right I'm Leering At You. Damn Right I'm A Pervert
OK, so on this day off, instead of doing something really productive, like getting a tube session in at the U. or seeing my shrink, I did the following:
I couldn't help but stare as she and her sis (who probably wasn't all that bad, but I wasn't looking at her) as they walked by. And I tried to steal glances of her hot body as those two sat with what I think is their mom at a table close by. I tried to steal more glances as I dumped the shells of those eggs in the trash, but I think those three were on to me. What, you show off your hot body like that and you think I won't look? That's what you want me to do, don't lie!
I wanted to jizz over her stomach -- OK, I admit that.
- Finally got the party's photos up on social media at the coffeeshop close to the test scoring place -- OK, so my day was productive after all;
- Picked up my check stub at the test scoring place so it wouldn't go over the mail, where it would probably be picked up by my folks tomorrow;
- Looked at Best Buy in that area, where the only open box laptops available at a discount were Apples, which threw me for a loop because I've been dead-set on getting an XPS 13;
- Went to the mall on the other side of town to eat the lunch my parents prepared for me;
- Going to Comcast to dispute the discount on my bill because it's supposed to be larger;
- Not going to Comcast because there was a line;
- Parking at the University of Minnesota and walking from one end to the other to go and do this really interesting business school experiment regarding combinatorial auctioning;
- Going to the Best Buy close to my house to see if they still do not have any Dell XPS 13's, all of which disappeared from when I first saw it over the weekend by the time I re-checked yesterday (Thursday). They're still none.
- Blogging this at the library the hour before they close. Thank Buddha this county's libraries close at 6 instead of 5.
I couldn't help but stare as she and her sis (who probably wasn't all that bad, but I wasn't looking at her) as they walked by. And I tried to steal glances of her hot body as those two sat with what I think is their mom at a table close by. I tried to steal more glances as I dumped the shells of those eggs in the trash, but I think those three were on to me. What, you show off your hot body like that and you think I won't look? That's what you want me to do, don't lie!
I wanted to jizz over her stomach -- OK, I admit that.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
It's Been Almost Two Weeks ...
... and I still haven't put up much stuff regarding the event the alumni chapter hosted. I'm such a slowpoke. Anything I put on there now really is old news. But I got busy! And it was complicated to ... upload pictures and stuff! And there were these two that was sent to me that I couldn't upload because they were JPEGs and not GIFs. I just got all those saved, I think, and yet I'm too tired to upload these all, put them into an album on Facebook, and finally write about what was a successful event.
I needed the momentum and good vibes from the party to foster interest in the club. I needed it so someone would volunteer to host next year. But because I got busy with trying to understand this newfangled technology and work and helping my friend move and sleeping ... it's all gone.
And I'm too tired to continue writing here.
I needed the momentum and good vibes from the party to foster interest in the club. I needed it so someone would volunteer to host next year. But because I got busy with trying to understand this newfangled technology and work and helping my friend move and sleeping ... it's all gone.
And I'm too tired to continue writing here.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Too Much Stuff
My stripper friend who had to move out somehow got a two-day extension, so she, her man and her man's son both had August 1 and 2, yesterday and today, to finish packing, moving, and painting the apartment she, in fact, has to move out of. So after helping her for two days, she texts me asking for more help last night. Although I had plans on doing some alumni club stuff, I relented and went over there to help.
It was only a few hours, so instead of painting and hauling stuff to their storage space, both tasks that took up a majority of my time on my previous two visits, all I did last night was pick up odds and ends and carry furniture to the curb. They were headed to their storage space when I came in; they said the side door was open and there were clothes and other knickknacks that can be thrown into these huge, construction-grade trash bags that were laying all over the house.
And I've got to be honest: At some point I had to stop throwing crap into these bags because there was so much crap. There were big items, small items, things that looked valuable and things that looked like trash. I didn't know what had to go, even though I had the sense that with less than 48 hours to go, everything had to go. But it was so overwhelming to see all this stuff that still remained and had to moved out. They had roll upon roll of trash bags, but it still seemed like such an impossible task that I froze, thinking that I can't even start if I can't see when all of this was going to end.
This was the point where I started thinking about my stuff, and the house. I couldn't help but think, as I was helping out cleaning her basement, all of the things that are in our basement -- the tapes, the old clothes, the tools, etc. I started mentally walking through each room and feeling this metaphysical gut punch at all the stuff that would have to be removed if we had to move. How do you start? What's valuable and what's not? And frankly, if there is stuff that's not valuable, why do you have it now? It's only going to weigh you down once (and not if, once) you are forced to move.
I am uniquely sentimental about my stuff, and I clash constantly with My Father over cleaning up my room and throwing things away. But if moving is inevitable, I am so feeling this need to trash things, to get them out of my way so that any potential move I need to make as a result of an unexpected event doesn't leave me behind the 8-ball, like it apparently is for those three. I know that when someone moves they're shocked at all the material things they've accumulated. But moving cannot be the time when you start picking through them and figuring out what to keep and what to toss. Right now, I am of the mindset that the fewer things you have, the better.
Shoot, I really just might start -- gulp -- cleaning my room after this, and gladly!
It was only a few hours, so instead of painting and hauling stuff to their storage space, both tasks that took up a majority of my time on my previous two visits, all I did last night was pick up odds and ends and carry furniture to the curb. They were headed to their storage space when I came in; they said the side door was open and there were clothes and other knickknacks that can be thrown into these huge, construction-grade trash bags that were laying all over the house.
And I've got to be honest: At some point I had to stop throwing crap into these bags because there was so much crap. There were big items, small items, things that looked valuable and things that looked like trash. I didn't know what had to go, even though I had the sense that with less than 48 hours to go, everything had to go. But it was so overwhelming to see all this stuff that still remained and had to moved out. They had roll upon roll of trash bags, but it still seemed like such an impossible task that I froze, thinking that I can't even start if I can't see when all of this was going to end.
This was the point where I started thinking about my stuff, and the house. I couldn't help but think, as I was helping out cleaning her basement, all of the things that are in our basement -- the tapes, the old clothes, the tools, etc. I started mentally walking through each room and feeling this metaphysical gut punch at all the stuff that would have to be removed if we had to move. How do you start? What's valuable and what's not? And frankly, if there is stuff that's not valuable, why do you have it now? It's only going to weigh you down once (and not if, once) you are forced to move.
I am uniquely sentimental about my stuff, and I clash constantly with My Father over cleaning up my room and throwing things away. But if moving is inevitable, I am so feeling this need to trash things, to get them out of my way so that any potential move I need to make as a result of an unexpected event doesn't leave me behind the 8-ball, like it apparently is for those three. I know that when someone moves they're shocked at all the material things they've accumulated. But moving cannot be the time when you start picking through them and figuring out what to keep and what to toss. Right now, I am of the mindset that the fewer things you have, the better.
Shoot, I really just might start -- gulp -- cleaning my room after this, and gladly!
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
Kind Of Had It At Work Yesterday
I will always help a friend move, especially if that friend is a stripper. Nevertheless, that occupied a lot of my weekend. And combined with the United match and a musical my friend was in (both happening on Saturday), plus this mind-bending heat (OK, it's not that hot and humid, but I still kind of malfunction in this weather), I was running myself ragged this weekend. Beyond that, even though I felt tired, I couldn't get any sleep -- no falling dead unconscious in the evening and waking up to the birds chirping, none of that.
I reached my breaking point Sunday night, when, after helping my stripper friend move her stuff to storage (she has promised me free cover and a free lapdance over her next four parties), I came home and promised my sister that I would transfer her and my brother-in-law over to my plan. It got executed great, but I think I used that as an excuse to stay up till 3 in the morning. That meant that tired old me got about 3 1/2 hours of sleep.
Like I said, it was a summer day; it wasn't the hottest or most humid day I've ever felt, or even of the summer, but it was still plenty hot. When I went to my car to take naps for morning break and lunch, I actually went unconscious. But when I woke up during my lunch break in a hot sweat, I figured it was better for me to take a walk with a co-worker rather than try for three naps for afternoon break.
That may have been a mistake, because near the end of my 8 1/2 hours at work I had this anger well up inside me. I never get "hangry" -- angry because I'm hungry. (I actually get angry when I'm full, but that's another blog post.) But I get "tirangry" often. If I don't get my sleep, I can be very unreasonable. And that's how I felt. I think I was able to hide it; the only outward sign I was irritable was that I stood up and took a break every half-hour in the afternoon. If I get written up for that, so be it. I did all I could to be as productive as I could without screaming in boredom and delirium and walking out of the building.
Which reminds me that I should go to sleep now. But oh wait -- I have to write that thank-you card, and to reply to that mom who went to our alumni event. ...
I reached my breaking point Sunday night, when, after helping my stripper friend move her stuff to storage (she has promised me free cover and a free lapdance over her next four parties), I came home and promised my sister that I would transfer her and my brother-in-law over to my plan. It got executed great, but I think I used that as an excuse to stay up till 3 in the morning. That meant that tired old me got about 3 1/2 hours of sleep.
Like I said, it was a summer day; it wasn't the hottest or most humid day I've ever felt, or even of the summer, but it was still plenty hot. When I went to my car to take naps for morning break and lunch, I actually went unconscious. But when I woke up during my lunch break in a hot sweat, I figured it was better for me to take a walk with a co-worker rather than try for three naps for afternoon break.
That may have been a mistake, because near the end of my 8 1/2 hours at work I had this anger well up inside me. I never get "hangry" -- angry because I'm hungry. (I actually get angry when I'm full, but that's another blog post.) But I get "tirangry" often. If I don't get my sleep, I can be very unreasonable. And that's how I felt. I think I was able to hide it; the only outward sign I was irritable was that I stood up and took a break every half-hour in the afternoon. If I get written up for that, so be it. I did all I could to be as productive as I could without screaming in boredom and delirium and walking out of the building.
Which reminds me that I should go to sleep now. But oh wait -- I have to write that thank-you card, and to reply to that mom who went to our alumni event. ...
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