Sometime Wednesday night the wheels came off. **WARNING WORSE THAN USUAL CONTENT APPROACHING PROCEED WITH CAUTION YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED** I wasn’t feeling real great after driving the boy and some friends to the girls basketball game but I chalked that up to an evening wasted. I stopped to get a Diet Coke on the way back but could barely handle a single sip. Bad mix I thought…
Then about 1:30 in the morning my internal disaster alarm went off. I grabbed a pillow and blanket heading for somewhere down near the men’s room in the basement. I should let you know at this point that I am a known yell vomiter. I basically make loud guttural animal noises accompanied by the contents of my stomach.
I scream puked for a good half hour to the point of physical exhaustion. I was sweating and my head was thumping but I knew it wasn’t over. The puking finished up for good around 4:30am but I went to sleep in the office just in case. All was great until I thought I would just work as normal the next day.
My first call found me burping like Foster Brooks (I’ll wait while you look it up) and I am willing to admit it was not my best work. I would say it was my worst call of the year except immediately after I had another one that dropped the bar to the floor. I was talking away and pacing around a bit as I am likely to do with my standing desk when all of a sudden it felt like I got shanked in the belly.
The pain was ridiculous and I didn’t know what was happening until more internal Emergency Warning Systems not in use since childhood began going off. All dials and indicators pointed to a probably sweatpants desecration. I am tempted to write Holy Shit or Shit Got Real but that’s too easy. I exited the call with as much grace as a man being disemboweled by an invisible sword and began penguin walking toward the bathroom.
I will spare you further detail other than to say I washed every piece of clothing three times and the bathroom was declared a total loss by the CDC. If I would have had the strength to make it out I would have burned the house down to start fresh. I spent an almost complete 24 hour period shuffling to the bathroom and back. took 5 showers and went through two cans of foaming cleanser. Finally today after no further incidents and one last deep cleaning it no longer smells like someone hosed out the rhino pen at the zoo.
I got all excited this morning because it looked like someone was finally taking down the fifty year old rotting willow tree next door. I’ve been warning the power company for years because this thing already shucked a Hyundai sized limb that knocked cable out. When the whole thing goes we will be without power and my neighbor Bill will have a dead tree atrium in his house.
Drove a bucket into her back yard (sorry, inner 13 year old is laughing) and got to work.
He started like a man on fire or at least a man precariously suspended above live power lines. I went to work and when I checked back in five hours later the disappointment tones from the Price is Right played in my head.
From what I can tell they spent more than four hours removing one branch. All they did was cut a little wind resistance away giving poor Bill less time to get out of the way. I think someone sold the lady next door a tree trimming equivalent of magic beans. The tree of Damocles stands.
This is the time of year when everyone is experimenting with life changes. Mostly related to health and weight. I am all for you turning yourself into whatever makes you happy but the one thing I know is that we all die. Go ahead and think the big speech about quality of life and whatever you need to tell yourself I’ve seen that extra 20 years your giving yourself and it doesn’t look super fun. Again, I am all for you being happy just don’t act like whatever you are doing makes you better than anyone else.
I was talking to someone today, just a casual business acquaintance, who has hopped aboard some new diet trend. As we spoke she told me that she was preparing for her first 10K. I made some lame joke about driving six and a half miles all the time and instead of giving me the transitional courtesy laugh she went right to asking me about my lifestyle.
The operative word earlier was work which is code for never act like the real me. I had to gently parry her inquisition and make vague promises to look into her obsessive eating regime. I really wanted to ask her why a recent behavioral change made her feel superior to someone she knows nothing about. I know what to do to lose weight. Stop eating and drinking like shit and move my fat ass. Variations on a theme.
There has been quite a bit going on in my life as of late and I find myself comforted by good food and beer. Probably something to be worked out on a couch but aint got time fo dat. This is as close to psychiatric care as I’m coming until the complete snap that has always lurked just behind my eyes. Some of the pressure that has piled up has me feeling cornered. I am attempting to think my way out but some of this might require some major life changes.
Anyway, Then comes another phone call where a guy now wants me to try his New Years Miracle. He was telling me how he didn’t sacrifice anything eating vegetables and drinking sparkling water during the Superbowl. Luckily he is my friend so when I didn’t answer and he asked if I was still there he didn’t get too offended when I answered “I’m sorry, the mere description of your party almost bored me catatonic.”
Look, I wish you all the best of health and hope you end up the exact shape you want to be whatever that is. I will remind you that round is a shape and happy is a relative term. As a wise man never said “Looking down your nose at someone is a great way to see the fist as it hits.”
I say this every year but nobody listens; The Super Bowl should be on a Saturday Night. I don’t understand why this is not a thing. If there is some reason this can’t happen then at the very least the following Monday should be a National Holiday. Other countries shut shit down for that boring ass World Cup…
Anyway, I discovered today that there are a ton of people who give zero fux about the game and that quite frankly is sad. I didn’t have a dog in the fight either but it didn’t mean that I couldn’t drink beer, eat things bad for me, and gamble on EVERYTHING. Its the American way. But some of those I spoke with took an almost prideful pleasure in their disinterest.
I was in a strange space anyway so when one individual challenged me for the second time I might have lashed out a bit. He mentioned something about going to the movies every year during the bowl because his team was not in the game. He even went so far as to post a picture on Facebook as proof.
I told him that his pathetic cry for attention didn’t make him better than anyone else just a little more desperate. He got a little salty and started to say something about only rooting for the home team so I shifted into second gear. “How many people have you told about this great stance in the last week?” silence. “Was the movie you saw written, directed, and or starring someone from your sad little part of the country?” still nothing.
“The next time you climb up on this particular soap box ask your audience if they can see up your skirt. Your douche nozzle is showing.” I sent him a note later apologizing and blamed it on the fact that I was having too much fun yesterday with the other hundred and eleven million uncool losers around the world. Probably not my strongest apology work.
Today is a day that the NFL hath made.
I walked out front this morning to grab something from the car and glanced over at the school. My phone picture doesn’t do it justice but the fact that I pulled it out and tried to capture it should speak volumes.
I love this day. I’m up early because I can’t sleep. Even if I don’t have a team in the game, and sadly that has been the case for a while now, this is the culmination of a season. The game I love will crown a champion and I will be betting on every aspect. My friend throws a nearly perfect party every year and it is awesome.
I say nearly perfect as there are children present. This is no fault of my host as he has kids of his own but there should be an age based attendance system for the basement viewing area. The more beer my friends and I consume the saltier our banter becomes. I tell myself every year to curb the language and then somewhere around the fourth beer all bets are off. (Sorry, weak attempt at gambling work in)
The back and forth is what I love and if editing wasn’t such a nut flick I would tape the whole thing. The problem with that is I would be the idiot mining hours of recording for gems. I also have the sneaking suspicion that it’s not all as funny played sober – later. Or, it would be so funny that I would start immediately investigating podcasts.
Anyway, I have to keep busy today lest the time pass slower than it already is. I will complain more than once about this national event taking place on a Sunday night but no need to start that now.
I don’t get into dust ups with teachers very often. A little under twenty years of kids in some kind of formal school and I have only had two official on paper problems. The first was with a math teacher at the Junior High who told me that there was no help for my daughter because she could not grasp the subject matter (math). I thanked him for giving up on my child in writing so I didn’t sound like another hysterical parent complaining about a mean teacher. In the email I sent to the head of his department, the assistant principal, the principal, and the head of the school board where I included his original note to me I asked the question “now that you have officially given up on my child how can I get her educated in this subject?”
I also praised the teacher for having the guts to admit that he wasn’t up to the challenge of a difficult student and I recommended further soul searching to determine if teaching was in fact his true calling. Miraculously she got through the class with a solid B and he transferred jobs the next year. Sometime later he was arrested and convicted of child molestation that began with inappropriate texting to a sixteen year old that he later took further in his car.
Next up my eldest child who is the overall nicest person in my immediate family came home crying from track practice. She choked out some extremely unkind words from her coach that culminated with him telling her not to bother coming out for the sport the following year. Especially where coaching is concerned I do not like to insert myself but this was an unpopular no cut activity and my child was one of the better ones on the team. His boss at the time was a man who coached me when I attended the same high school so I didn’t feel the need to pull any punches.
I wrote some things that shockingly might have crossed the line even suggesting that my child not be “his type” which would explain his inability to coach her. Copied on the email my old coach requested a call. I got a little dose of admonishing along with promises to fix what happened. There was another exchange where he tried to get wordy about my accusations so I might have made some more. Ultimately this was a completely unsatisfying interaction. My eldest wanted nothing more to do with the track team and he went on to still coach the next year. So I kind of took this one as a loss.
Until yesterday when I found out that he resigned and is under investigation by police for sending inappropriate texts to a sixteen year old! Tomstradamus strikes again. I couldn’t be happier about another persons misery and if that makes me a bad person then I am guilty as charged. (see what I did there?) This makes me two for two on the official scoreboard. I am now dropping the mic on my teacher complaints and walking off of the stage at the top of my game.
I am currently in the midst of a family technological shuffle and it is consuming this evenings free time. I write this nonsense either on the phone I’m on now or preferably an iPad. The wife’s original version finally succumbed to old age and updates so she needed the one I just got with travel points. Luckily I just scored a big gift card from work so I got me a new mini version.
Got my bride all set up and now I’m trying to load all of my stuff on to this little thing. So far I like the smaller form factor. Should be easier to watch on a plane with the asshole in front of me enjoying full recline. And hopefully the new size will help my thumb typing.
Sorry about the lack of funny and the disjointed disinterest as I keep setting the phone down to install and arrange apps. I would be lying if I said I didn’t like this stuff. Thank you for your patience.
I have been staring at my shoe for the last half hour like a mental patient. I think I might have hypnotized myself. It all started with me thinking about the puddle of filth I discovered too late during an emergent stop just past security. The other bathroom patrons didn’t understand what I was doing after lathering my hands and cupping handfuls of water onto the floor.
Then I dried my hands with paper towels dropping them on top of the suds. Then I basically scrubbed my shoes back and forth until I felt a little better. Shuffled my way to the United Club where I repeated the process.
Guys are pigs. The first idiot forgets to shake or has a leaky valve and drips on the ground under the urinal. The next fella seeing the drips stands back a little to not step in the tiny piss puddle and he ends up adding some overspray to the problem. The further back we stand the worse it gets until the problem unofficially closes the toilet or some idiot like me wades in unaware.
So I sat here considering my options when I placed myself in the afore mentioned trance. There is a large part of me that wants to take them off and walk away. There would be no trouble until I land at O’Hare. Then the things I would trod through in my stocking feel would make this problem look like I strolled through spilled milk.
If these shoes could talk they would be cursing me out for my careless transgression. And I would just have to sit here and take it.
I have a coworker who eats, er, drinks this crap all day.
She has lost a ton of weight and if it makes her happy then I am no judge. Watching her force this concoction down her gullet has convinced me that I’m better off big.
There are some prepackaged things along with this program but the shit is not cheap. Then when she’s allowed to eat it is only fish and vegetables. Seems to me like if you just consumed the low calorie foods you might lose a bunch of weight as well but I am diametrically opposed to anyone’s vision of a health guru.
Do what makes you happy because we all die anyway isn’t a real inspiring battle cry. I am now incredibly hungry.
I can’t stop watching the Iowa Caucus on TV tonight. It takes me back to college in Ames and watching this nonsense live and in person. I think we need this system all around the country only add a bit more of a mosh pit flavor to the mix. Loud live music and people frantically jumping around trying to “convince” others to stand in their part of the room. Less of this spirited debate nonsense and more bashing in to one another.
I am particularly fascinated by the attention starved undecided voters. These people stand in that part of the room just so others will have to come up and talk to them. Its pathetic. Am I to believe that they drove to the venue with no preconceived idea of who they wanted to vote for? Horseshit. You chose to declare yourself a Democrat you probably have some idea who you like. And if you don’t do you really trust your neighbors to influence your decision making? Attention whores. These sheep would be quickly mowed down in my moshcaucus scenario.
Another side note while I’m politicking: As I flip channels the portrait pictures of Hilary Clinton and Donald Trump are awful on every channel. They both look like evil cartoons. I think one of the channels has photo-shopped a Cheshire Cat smile on Donald’s face. And Hilary looks a tad transgender on more than one network. I swear there are some really good cameras out there. Why don’t the candidates themselves submit a glamour shot to all of the channels? Something to think about…
I can’t shut my eyes and I have to be on camera myself first thing in the morning. Oh well, bags under the eyes just add to my patina.
I was minding my own business when a shit mood broke out. Okay I wasn’t technically minding my own business as I was trolling Facebook but that is beside the point. Strike that as well because that nonsense could be the direct cause of said same fecal state of mind. I have been making a concerted effort (crap, I think that word means in concert which make me an idiot for applying it to me alone. Oh well.) to wean myself off of that particular chunk of social media.
I figure if I stick to weekends only I will be more productive and feel better about things in general. I really just stop by to see what’s doing with people I kind of know. Sure I have to weed through a bunch of other stuff like political nonsense and all of the things they share that I could care less about but one I find something I want to read or look at its usually worth it. That was until today.
I sifted through five full minutes of nonsense until I found a picture of a human being that interested me. It was all ads, or clips from web sites that I read every single day. I don’t understand but I am pretty sure its time for me to take a real long break. I wont go off completely as there are posts I follow like stories. I might have written about this before but I watched a dude blow his whole life up online.
From the announced breakup, to the cheating accusations, to trying to woo her back, to lashing out when that didn’t work, to kicking her out of the family business, to helping her move in to the boyfriends house, and now to the tales of couples therapy, this stuff is riveting. Its too bad I have to sift through the rest of the dreck to get there.
And then there is my other Facebook hobby… a little something I like to call “What ELSE is in the picture?” This is where I look at posted photos as a way of spying on the rest of life. I like to see how the folks I know decorate and what kind of crap is currently out on their counters. I love me a messy room in the background so I can enlarge the picture and get to investigatin. And now they are clouding this beautiful world of oversharing with ads and sponsored posts that do nothing more than make me mad.
The sad thing is there is really no other way for me to spy on folks. No other venue invites everyone right into your house. I know that some of you are thinking I should just go visit but that is not the point. Some of these people are only my online friends as a way to peek inside my life not anyone I want to actually hang out with. That is why my Facebook page is a deer stand. I scattered just enough pictures around much like a hunter with delicious corn so that they will come into range er, be my friend. Then I can get to creepin.
If you are my real life friend that is now a Facebook friend I am in no way talking about you. Other than I am trying to look around your house whenever possible. Nothing nefarious just a bottomless curiosity. You have been warned.
Right now my mouth still hurts a bit but not so much that I can’t post some promised pictures. I didn’t get the front sign because the doctor was looking at me when I walked up. No need to piss off a dude who will be mucking around in your mouth. Even if I could have come up with a plausible excuse I didn’t want to set a weird tone.
All of these pictures were taken in one burst while he stepped out of the room. I only had seconds while I waited for some molding chemicals to set. I also couldn’t risk the noise of getting up as he told me to stay still. First up; my view.
Yup that is an old school arm mount tiny color TV set against the backdrop of a mountain scene wallpaper complete with faux wood beam.
The skier is glorious even if he shows his age.
Crap I was not looking for a mouth full of goo dudes been drilling on my face selfie. I just wanted the old school dentist workstation. If barbers still pulled teeth I’d go to one of them instead. Mouthborn pathogens be damned let’s fix this shit Doc.