Old Personal News

Here's The Week Ending 1-30-05

Right. So I came home with ties on Sunday night 1-24, and went to bed. Alarms would go off
Monday morning, and I took a wonderful shower. Yay; hot water is good. I'm up, dressed, workout clothes in hand, and we're going to work on a beautiful day in Arizona. At work, I'm just hoping to not be fired already for my temper tantrum on Saturday. The boss isn't here? I keep my job for one more day! Oh and I kicked ass, too. Hat trick; think I was the only hat trick in the room of 40 people. Ha. Ate my outdated turkey sandwich for lunch; which was just stupid. I mean, the chili (alone) from yesterday is going to make this a 5-shit Monday already; sure--throw some slimey expired bird on top of it. The world is ending; let's test the intestines. So I led the department, calmly, farting on every call. How DO I do it? I don't fucking know. But I was ready to workout. I weigh 212 again? Yeah, baby. Sweating like truck stop white trash, I then ruled the gym. Decided to go get some better lunch meat on the way home--thank God. Then home to make another incredible salad that totally wowed my girlfriend; me, too. Yum. So then we're looking at snuggle time. Static Girl's ear is messed up, but she won't go see the Dr. I did laundry and watched lots of tv. Unexplained Mysteries from last night was excellent crop circle/encounter stuff. Man. History Channel didn't have their Monday UFO show, and 2.5 Men was a re-run. Damn. So I cleaned the kitchen. Now it's midnight; where is all the time? The people with the bombs say that the world ends with this staged election thing in Iraq; I think that's this weekend. Good. I'm tired of waiting. Bed. Up
for work Tuesday. I dressed up with the pink shirt and tie; they said I looked like a pimp. Okay. I would get a hat trick among many hat tricks; go team. Took my old ties to give to the clothing fund. Got to tell my new tie story. Ate a breakfast burrito instead of my boring apple--there's more to the story though. I didn't know that Phoenix was already under a water advisory. Yeah; all water water and soda fountains are shut down, there's no ice, no food washing--boil before you drink, and now we're not supposed to take showers either. Ha. But my shower this morning went fine. There's definitely some panic going on here among parents and other stupid people. The only part of our cafe that was not affected was the quick grill, and their best chef was working there, so I went for the burrito--do you see how it all works now? Right; if the world is ending today, then it will end with me eating a yummy, spicey burrito with sausage and peppers. You can make an enema out of my apple, motherfucker. Wait and see; I'll go to the bar tonight, too. So I'm driving home, looking all like a pimp apparently, and I see apartment constructions going on like normal. What about the water shortage? This place, and these people are all fucked up. I want to stop and buy a jug or 2 of water; but stores have been sold out of water since 9 am; it's 3 pm now. I'm not panicky; I just don't remember how many jugs of extra water we have stashed at home (turns out we have 2). I'm feeling this rush of how it's time to stop complaining and start living. Then I see old ladies arguing about getting water; no fucking way. Ha. 2 more months of this stupid shithole city will be quite enough; thank you. So I came home and started making phone calls. First? Of course my FCP--she always helps with perspective. Then I got a Dr's appointment follow-up for my ears--and possibly a nose reference; also got a tooth job set up for Thursday, too. Called Barney about the other half of my order, and got his take on the water situation here (you know, we have water stores out here for times like these). Called my apartment manager; she says the water probs are over-hyped; in the apartments here we should cook, shower, do laundry, and eat breakfast burritos (you get the idea). Sure; I'm making dinner. A 3-temperature feast was ready at 4 for my girlfriend, wow. I called my Mom. Girlfriend didn't show up till 5, working late, and said she was leaving me to go get her car tested. I said we should go together and make it a picnic; I promised that I knew a better, quicker, closer place, and that she should trust me. She hesitated, but I would not be denied. She was grumpy, and of course that's not good; we argued, and then apologized. How about my testing place? We were in, and out, in 11 minutes. Eleven fucking minutes; we didn't even have time to eat the picnic. I am the man. Back home to eat salad and watch Angel; nice. Then I'm just prolonging the inevitable. At noon 2maro we should have the results from the latest water test; I suggested that there will be no word from the governer yet--they have to be enjoying this public panic stuff, too. Called TPG; this should have been his day off. Ha. Running a restaurant in this fake water mess is probably pretty tough. Poor guy. I suggested some bar therapy, and he agreed. He didn't show though; no big deal. I drank, took rides, talked to myself, and had a blast. Did too much, too fast, too early--like the world was ending; imagine that. Home after 11, and I felt pretty good. I had plans to go to work for
Wednesday, but they would crumble. No new tie, no workout, kiss my ass. Sleep till 11 am. It's rainy and gloomy; plus I want to be focused for the bad water news at noon. Ha. Coffee time, leftover chili, and Caviar after last night's Scrubs. Look at that rain; wow, it must suck to have to go outside today. We have a water shortage, yet...wait for it...the streets are flooding! I'm confused, okay? Oh; the water news at noon? No news; just as I predicted. There's not even a word about when the word will come now (it's all just postponed); they're watching this panic from up above and loving it. I would be, too. Except that I'm watching it from my apartment, in my underwear, drinking good coffee. And look at all the writing I'm doing here; this is the best water shortage of my life, for sure! Maybe I'll take another shower, and cook something. Both. More cool salad for dinner. Girlfriend was all whiney and in pain when she got home. Jealous of my taking the day off, she proclaims it a "no snuggle" night. Whatever. She's still glad that I cook, and offer myself to her. Yeah. At 4, tv was interrupted for the laughing powers that be to tell us that the water doesn't appear to be dangerous. Sure. Girlfriend still doesn't feel good; she's sacked out in bed already. It's Barney's birthday; so I called him to check in. He's all pissed about no big party for him--but he's just another idiot fuck I put up with who owes me money. I'm starting to think about the bar again; it's a really bad idea. Yeah; I'm going. Turns out that it was a good thing; TPG and Pool Guy showed. It became the kind of fun that a bar run is supposed to be; we were the only people there. Loud and crazy. It's raining again, too; great. Phoenix does so well with the rainy shit; that's sarcasm. I somehow made it home. Crashed hard; we have to go to work, right? Up
barely at 6 am Thursday. I'm late; I'm groggy; I hate everything, and everybody owes me money. Why the fuck am I still here? I have questions. With a shower, I just barely made it out with my girl. Everything hurts, and I'm going to have to cheer up just to be pissy. Today would be a good day for it to be slow at work. Stupid me; I can't talk, can't breathe, can't do much here at all. Why do I do this (hangovers) to myself? This is funny? Maybe this used to be funny, but not so much now. Maybe hangovers used to make a boring life more interesting, sure, but hangovers now require more effort than the work they distract from. When your hangovers become worse than your actual job...fuck it. I took some good coffee to baby T, but she didn't have my AFI discs. I'll get them later. And I don't get to go home and take a nap today; remember? Yeah, Mr. Insightfully Drunk Last Night had already made the dentist's appointment for today. Maybe I'll just die here at work. The taste of blood and smell of high-speed-drilled enamel await me. Oh yeah; kill me now. Then, like always(?), by the time we get back from lunch...I have the voice. Pain is minimal. I'm amusing. Going to control a few calls, I am. Well now it's boring and easy; wish I was hungover again. Shut up. All of you. We're so slow that I only needed one sale to get out of there. It took me 3 tries; it usually only takes 1. So I'm home by 2; an hour early. Caviar 2000, dish wash, rice cook, and it's time to get drilled. So the first Dr J. does his little dance on me; 2 fillings, and finishes in 30 minutes. Then he holds up the little Romper Room mirror to show me his brilliant work, and...one of the filling jumps out. So he stomps off in a huff, which is exactly how how I would've done it--except I'd have been cussing. Yeah; back to me. So I lay there for awhile, humming Pink Floyd's "Echoes" and Harvey Danger's "Flagpole Sitta"; waiting for the good quack to come back with a camping-gear sized roll of duct tape. No luck. He sends in the real Dr J.; now, she's pissed at him, pissed at me, she hates all aspects of my mouth, and she's pissed that she has to go back and fix his bullshit; and the real Dr J. is not so gentle with the re-fired up drill. Total 4 shots of novocaine, 20 shots of the puke-tasting X-Files green stuff, an hour under the drill, my mouth bleeding in 2 places; but, wait, apparently we're done. It didn't kill me, so I must be stronger. Great. And right before I left I made another appointment for next Thursday; more drilling. I'm just nutty now. Went to get some new good incense, and then came home to sit with my baby so that she could make fun of the way I talk. Boy, if I hadn't been to the bar for the last 3 nights, I'd go now. Fuck. I'm finding chunks of cotton and enamel crunchies in my mouth; this is fun. Hey kids; be sure to wait till you're 40 to start flossing everyday. So I ate some of my rice; crunch, hey look, more enamel. Should I floss again now? You know that filling will be coming out again, right? It's not going to be some big fucking surprise that my mouth is still screwed. Grrr. PTI, and then I'm procastinating laundry. Now I'm back here, and I'm going to bed early tonight. 8:15; no laundry. Talked to my business guy WD; he's cool. There's a big seminar on Saturday. Bedtime soon. Hard to sleep, but I got some. Up
for work Friday. No dress up today. In fact, my pinball shirt allowed me to meet fellow punk rock co-worker Brian (Blondie). He's allright in his NOFX hat. I had nicknames for Mrs. Ed and Baby Tab, but no Tab or AFI today. Sure. My first call got money 2wice. No more money today, but I still got to leave early. Others left earlier, so today wasn't a good day to promote a new business. I told them my dentist story though. Looked at my upcoming paycheck at work, and I'm not broke. By leaving at 1, I got to workout earlier. It hurt. So I slid by Safeway; cookies for my girl, $ and cheese, then came home. Just missed my FCP, who has moved again, because it's hard to live around puking children. Other calls on my machine say that the rest of my metaphorder is ready. So I call to find out that it is NOT ready. Disappointment. So I drive out to see WD and get a ticket for the big business thing Saturday. Knowing full well that I'm probably sleeping in on Saturday...but I might get there. Back home to create another leftover feast for my baby. In these limited applications I cook well. So I shave and prep for snuggle; always a joy. The new, alternative Nag Champa incense is excellent. Then I'm getting ready for a Friday bar run. Pinball: I've never seen a playfield so steep; even with the decent, medium-strength flippers, ramp shots are iffy. There are at least 3 extra balls possible, and many excellent bonus features, but some games of Monster Bash pinball don't even last a minute; games. Wow. And when you blow through 50 cents in 45 seconds a couple of times in a row, you start to wonder about the whole 'pinball obsession' thing. MB pinball may be the most infuriating pinball machine ever; it's my new abusive relationship. My old abusive relationship, coffee, is pretty much accepted now. Let's go get another cup. It's Saturday noon-thirty, by the way. We're almost there. So I'm spending 5$ a night on MB pinball--not a bad investment. All of a sudden TPG and Pool Guy show up. They're drunk and ready for golf; so am I. We played well, too, and drank lots more. All of a sudden it's time to go. Okay. So I came home and created my own personal burrito feast. Not the smartest move ever, but I ate it; 2 serrano peppers and everything. Yum. Oh it's bedtime. I would set the alarm for 8, or 8:30, or whatever the fuck I thought I was thinking about going somewhere before noon Saturday. Sure. Here's a good one; I didn't even bother to get out of bed to play 'look I'm a fountain'. Girlfriend came in to try and help me get up
at 8-something Saturday morning, but I was not going anywhere. Sometimes a body needs sleep. Up at noon with burritos in my teeth. Coffee helped the first bathroom run. More coffee is helping this shit here. That was a pun. I would spend most of this saturday typing up/deleting/retyping answers to this Getting To Know You thing that my FCP sent me. I felt guilty about not getting up in time for my business meeting, but what can I do now? Tick tock. Why are we not at the bar yet? I guess you can see what I have to do now. Yes. So we went. It was a fun run, too. I played much golf; imagine. On the way home I went for the 2-burrito dinner at Eriberto's (the best Mexican food ever). I ate it all, and then crashed hard. Up
before noon Sunday. We're on coffee cup #4 now; it's probably dinner time, too. I would neither know nor care at this point. I am hungry. And there's tons of shit to do with the webpage. Look at me caring; I'm so sensitive.

The Week Ending Sunday 1-23-05

The Week Ending Sunday 1-16-05

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