Shrink's On Something Again

Arranged to speak with my psychotherapist on Friday after work.  Actually texted him about it; didn't arrange it through his secretary.  Texted him at the time we were supposed to talk.  And he didn't call me.  Again.

Later that evening he both texted and called me.  This time around he said that the alarm was going off at his place.  He said -- and I couldn't quite hear him, either because the line was bad or he was mumbling, or both -- that the police came out to either his place or the place next door, and he was so preoccupied all day that he forgot that we were supposed to talk.  Or something.  Honestly, this is new from him.  Do I believe it?  I don't know if I care about how different his excuses are anymore.  This is yet another missed appointment from him, and this time I spoke to him directly that we would talk on Friday.  Seriously, what the hell gives?

He has gotten increasingly strange, and this time has ratcheted that up a bit.  In the past he has left strange, almost indecipherable texts for me that he says is a result of a buggy phone.  Around Friday night, when he called me, he sent me about a dozen (maybe more) voice texts.  I didn't ask for those.  In fact, I have never gotten a voice text from anyone through text.  (I've gotten some from a distant relative on WhatsApp, and she is also strange.)  He doesn't talk when he says we are going to talk, and he makes up for it by blasting me with a series of weird texts?

I ... I don't know about him anymore.

Expenses Without Receipt

Starting from Saturday, January 6, 2024:

• Well, I don't have an EWR until New Year's Eve.  That's when I went to Casey's and got lottery tickets because the Powerball jackpot swelled up again.  I also got cranberry juice in case I wanted to make myself a cosmopolitan, and since they were selling two of the Casey's-branded bottles of juice for some deal, I went and got a bottle of apple juice, too.  Total: $39.50.
• Back to, I think, Wednesday, December 27, which I think was the only time our office lottery pool went in on this jackpot.  My supervisor bought tickets the day before, and I wanted to pay her back on this day, which just so happens to be the day of the jackpot for which we bought tickets.  With that being said, I could totally have the wrong date, and it's possible I threw in for another draw.  But I think it was only one, and therefore I paid in only: $4.
• On Christmas Eve I went to Merlins Rest, which I still believe is the only place open late on Christmas Eve in the Twin Cities.  Had a good time by myself sipping whiskeys and being content with making it to another Christmas.  A jazz band usually plays on Christmas Eve, and since it was a Sunday and Merlins Rest closes at midnight on Sundays, I was able to catch the last part of their show when I usually arrive too late.  I was able to tip them: $4.
• On Saturday the 23rd I went to My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Version).  There was no snow on the ground and temperatures were much higher than average, so I took advantage of driving all the way down there at a time of the year I usually don't do that to see my ATF, ******a.  Dude at the turnstile waved me without a cover even though I got there just a tick past 5.  Couldn't get a goddamn drink until ******a flagged one down before we started our table dances about an hour later.  I think the waitress is racist.  Anyway, along with tips for the strippers and the staff, drinks for ******a and I and the 18 dances I got from her, I spent a total of: $207.
• Back to Saturday the 9th, where ****e* came over and cleaned house.  She spent, oh, six or seven hours when before she would take up to twelve.  Either she's getting faster or there wasn't a whole lot that needed to be cleaned here.  But she gave me a break on her rate, Buddha bless her.  She remains very, very good and what she does.  Total: $200.
• Finally, back on Monday, December 4, *****y came over and jerked me off for the first time ever.  Well, I had to jerk myself off to completion because I may have ED or some shit.  I was not great.  She was.  She's fantastic.  And I'm still in awe that one of the hottest women who danced at My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Edition, RIP) would deign to even touch my dick.  And only for a reasonable price of: $150.

I don't think I'm missing anything.  Good through January 6, 2024.

Fucking Waste To Go To A Coffeeshop

Fucking waste to go to a coffeeshop (for which I got chili, a sandwich and a Coke) to work on my receipts when I see that I didn't add the month of December to my day planner and therefore I didn't have any place to write the amounts on the receipts on.  Well, have to look on the bright side, right?  The chili was real good.  The chicken salad sandwich was crap because the whole damn thing fell apart on me.  Coke is Coke.  And the babe showing off her belly was working again.  Oh, and I saw a pretty exciting end of the Kentucky-Florida Game on my computer.

But yeah, it was a waste to go to a coffeeshop when I can't work on my receipts.  Dammit.

Hottest Babe In The Hooters Calendar: December 2023

A pretty good ending to last year's Hooters calendar.  I only point out four of the dozen that appear for the month, but the four are so good, I think on the whole this is better than average.  Here are the four, in ascending order:

In fourth place is Marissa, of Gainesville, Fla.  The pose is what I want to see from a Hooters waitress: Standing straight at the camera, no arms or props blocking our view of her body.  She has long, dark blonde hair and is wearing a tiger-printed two-piece bikini.  Her boobs seem to be big.  Not, like, large, but you can see her bikini top pressing her breasts like pancakes, so "big" in that sense.  The only, and I mean only, drawback against her is that she looks a bit young.  I know she has to be an adult, but she is young-looking.  That might be a good thing to some other people.

In third place is Las Vegas' Shania.  Long blond hair with dark roots; her hair cascades over her right breast, covered by a blue two-piece.  I dismissed her at first, but then the subtly great parts of this photograph came to the fore.  She did her shoot in a forest, which is different in a good way.  Moreover, she's got some wild and crazy tattoos (can't see what they are) on her right side and her bikini area.  That is fucking hot, especially for a Hooters waitress.  Rarely do you see tattoos in this calendar.

In second place is Brittany, from Mesa, Ariz.  Sporting a yellow two-piece bikini, the best thing about her is her cascading red hair.  I'm a sucker for a redhead.  Oh, and her big (and probably fake) tits are nice, too.

Finally, in first place is The Main Girl, Lindsey, hailing from Merrillville, Ind.  Long blonde hair, she is wearing an orange-and-blue-halved two-piece.  She's also wearing that ... thing that's like a shirt, except that only the sleeves and the very top portion around her neck is there.  Wearing it, it looks like she is lifting up a shirt to reveal her bikini top.  That's an illusion that I love.  Oh, and she's got piercing blue eyes as well.  Plus, there's an underdog status to her -- both as a Hooters girl from Merrillville, Ind. (which is part of the sprawling Chicagoland metroplex) and as a Main Girl; to me, the best picture for a month usually isn't from the woman with the biggest picture that month, so in a sense, this is an upset.

So congratulations to Lindsey and all the aforementioned Hooters waitresses for finishing out 2023 in style.  No worries -- I already touched myself to all of ya!!!!

She's Not Dead -- Is She?

So on Wednesday one of my stripper girlfriends, ********a, Messengered me asking if she heard whether a stripper from a long time ago, *e**, has died, 'cause that's what she heard.  I'm not in touch with her a lot these days; she gave up stripping a long time ago, and I was sad because she grabbed my cock once and she made me cum once when she was riding me hard.  We are friends on Facebook, however, and I think we replied to each other over a status update she wrote over New Year's.

Suffice it to say that I am skeptical that she has died.  Unfortunately I don't have too many ways to confirm that.  I don't know her family well enough to ask them directly ... well, I should say that *e**'s half-sister is ******a, and I haven't spoken to her in almost a year since she went bat-bleep crazy.  My only thought was to ask another of my stripper friends, ***e*, if she heard anything about this.  She said that she will talk to a stripmonger, who has hosted many house parties I've been to, and have him ask ******a (with whom I presume he still talks to) about *e**.

That was also on Wednesday.  Haven't heard anything yet.  (Complicating things is that ***e* went to the ER for stomach pains.)  I still don't believe *e** died.  If she did, I would have seen something on Facebook by now.  So she has to be alive.  Right?

Immigrants' Son Riding To The Fucking Rescue Again

I love my parents.  I love them most of all right now -- when they're half a world away, and I don't have to be near them.  They can hurt me emotionally, but it doesn't hurt as bad when I know I can just end the call and be at peace at home.  Now, when they are physically at home, I get uneasy and count the days till they begin their winter sojourn around warmer places on Earth.

Still, they can reach out and touch me, and when they do, they can ben annoying as fuck.  And they were last/Wednesday night, when Mother wanted to see if I was home.  There were a couple of photos she wanted me to snap of bills she's kept from a couple of their rental properties -- kind of a pain-in-the-ass, but understandable as to why she would want them.  But then Father chimed in and asked, as he has done all my life though not lately, to write another complaint letter.  This time it's about other rental properties they own from which they believe they haven't gotten enough income.  He asked me to write to the Better Business Bureau about it, and he has asked me to write to them before, and it's gone nowhere.  And then Mother gets back on the horn and asks me to call the property management company and ask them why they're not getting as much money as they think they should get.

This, in essence, is one of the main reasons why I hate my parents: They are permanent drama queens.  I have had to deal with and live under their anxieties and their misplaced sense of entitlement.  Moreover, they add a patina of helplessness to these demands: Since I can speak English like a native, I have always been asked to write, and in this case call, and ask for what they want on their behalf.  I've always been sent out to do their dirty work, oftentimes when they have only half an idea as to what they're mad about, sometimes when they have no proof that they're getting screwed.  But I have to do it anyway because I'm their son, while they go relax or fucking gallivant around China or somewhere.

With that being said ... I have looked over these income statements, and they may have a case.  It appears as though both rental properties in question were rented out for most of the month.  Yet, I see fees here and there, and they add up to a vast majority of the income both properties supposedly generated in income.  They're getting money, but it's a piddly amount.  Now I don't know what questions I can ask this management company, and there might not be anything I can do because my parents supposedly signed an agreement.  But I still call bullshit, and if my parents are right, this management company has reneged on any promises to get back to them when one of them has called asking why these fees have taken such a huge bite out of the revenue.

I think I need to call.  If these fees aren't mistakes, maybe they need to find a different management company, or even sell the properties.  But I'll call them Friday.  I have time then.  I need to formulate questions to ask.  Also, I don't want to call before then; I want to go out for a bit tonight/Thursday night.  If they can party, I can fucking do the same.

My iPhone Is Good As New (Even Though My Battery Definitely Is Not)

It might be too late because I didn't really think of it before the end of last year, but maybe a resolution I could make for the New Year is to ask for help sooner.  Case in point: My phone.

I have blog posted at how finicky my cellphone was in charging.  The plug going into the charging port was loose ever since I returned from Hawai'i last year, and it was often frustrating to try and get the phone to charge, and sometimes even when it did, it would somehow lose that connection and stop charging.

I had tried many times to clean out the port assuming that was it, but it didn't work.  Finally, I decided to go to an Apple Store and see if they could do something about it.  I went to the one in Rosedale on the Saturday before Christmas, and even though the place was packed and I didn't think I would have enough time to wait around before they called me, I was able to see someone two minutes after I checked in.

Yeah, so it was the port and not the charger.  There was lint in there that I failed to get out.  The "Genius" who helped me cleaned out that hole, and now, as I plug my power bank into my iPhone, there's a snap that secures the plug into the socket, and I see the iPhone start charging, and there is absolutely no wiggling around.  It's as if it's new ... well, except for the fact that my battery is still leaking energy.

One other thing: The "Genius" tried to test out my cleaned-out phone with a plug that comes up through the service desk table, but my iPhone didn't charge.  She then said that it might be time for an upgrade.  She said that my iPhone could get me $120 off towards a new one.  Well, seeing as my charging issues are no longer an issue and that the plug she used at the Apple Store probably doesn't work, I will chalk up her "recommendation" to trying to upsell me in order to fulfill her commission.  Hate that.

Spilled Lemon Juice

Several weeks ago, I squeezed out 35 mL of juice from a lemon.  I have never squeezed out so much juice.  I admired it, stared at the beaker into which I squeezed those 35 mL.  And then, after I spun the beaker around to make absolutely sure it indeed was 35 mL, I accidentally tipped it over.  I swiped my hand across the top of the beaker and didn't clear it, and I spilled nearly all of it on the counter.

Hate that.

It's stayed with me ever since, as you can tell.

2024 New Year's Resolutions

I made them a long, long time ago, but I hadn't since because it was depressing to see me fail to keep them so often.  But I have reflected a bit late in 2023 and thought of some resolutions I want to work on.

I resolve to not think about doing violence to people who have wrong me while I'm daydreaming.  It's a waste of time, I sabotage my day, and my heart rate goes up whenever I think it.  I need to stop that.

Also, and this might be contradictory, I resolve to speak my mind more.  I think I do that already, and that's a product of old age, specifically not caring about what people think of me and feeling as though my age gives me some standing in public.  But I still have opinions, and I shouldn't be afraid of voicing them.

And you know, I resolve to drive a lot calmer.  I hate doing that, but because of my recent brushes with car catastrophe, I think I need to go easier on my car, and that means accelerating easier and settling on a slower top speed.  I have to keep this one for a while.

I think those are enough resolutions.  I don't want to break any more than these.  And more difficult resolutions, such as eating better and watching my weight ... yeah, let's not get grandiose here.

Nightmare (To Start The New Year!)

Hadn't had one in a long time, and I get to kick off 2024 with one.  Must be an omen.

All I remember is that I was in a room, kind of like a college lecture hall, and there were about half a dozen people about to be executed.  Guillotine-style, I think.  They all seem to be White, which may or may not mean anything.  It had a Squid Game vibe to it, even though I don't think there was any diegetic or non-diegetic Korean music playing, and I don't remember seeing any executioners in fencing masks with basic shapes traced on them.  The dream ended before I saw any heads roll.

Happy New Year!