Old Personal News

(starting with the week ending 1-16-05)

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 Ate my outdated turkey sandwich for lunch; which was just stupid.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 rest of Sunday 1-16-05 was relatively calm. Sleep was hard to find, but the 4 hours of sleep achieved felt pretty good. Up with a nice shower for Monday MLK Day. What a weird non-holiday with no gym for me. I asked for an incredible day on the way in; what's weird is that I had this incredible day that I asked for. Oh there were some weak moments, but overall I kicked ass. It's going to take getting a little pissy with the talkative morons who call in to end my long phone calls, but it will happen. I celebrated the day by eating a grilled breakfast sandwich instead of a boring apple. Left at 1 to come home and call about tune-ups, and do a load of laundry. Should've called the dentist, but I forgot. Called my FCP, though; priorities. Then I cooked yummy ramen for my baby. She had a bad day, so my cooking dinner was good. We ate and watched killer Unexplained Mysteries from last night; undercover UFO's. Whoo. Then it was snuggle time. Yay. Now I'm trying to organize some early stress release; but I will go alone if need be. Cancel that. I went to see if they were at the nudey bar. They were. So I dragged them to Sam's for golf. Pool Guy says he's buying a house up in this neighborhood in January, and if I want to help out a little with his son that I can stay with him. Options. Then they wanted to go back to the jiggly, and I tagged along--for research purposes. It's not a horrible place, and they do have a pool table for the pool people, but this is not a place for me to align with. I can sure understand how guys with inconsistent sex lives get addicted, but not me. So I got dropped home at midnight. Did very well about going to bed, and slept, but did not feel good at
5:30 am Tuesday. My plan was to go in an hour late, but then that plan got delayed, too. So today, not 2maro, is my day off. Sleep. Then coffee. A little tv; hey, everybody likes the Patriots now. Then the attitude shifted right around 3 pm. My evil side proclaimed it to be a great day to go back to the bar. At first I disagreed. Really. But then I couldn't argue it off--and took a nice shower. Kill the quarter/drunk by dark; it doesn't look good. I wound up at the bar doing golf and pinball therapy for a few hours. Almost 5 hours. I got home around 8:30 pm with a bag of fine Mexican food. I ate enough for a family of 4 (the Eriberto's 2 burrito dinner weighs almost 3 lbs.); I should've stopped and saved some for lunch Wednesday. I was a crazy bad man. Loved it. I've never been so full; and I thought about all those little starving tsunami orphans wading around and yearning for some element of hope, and I laughed the 'let them eat cake' laugh of superiority. I was so full; you have no idea how much I can eat. So I had real trouble sleeping, had to get up 6 or 7 times to piss and grab heartburn biscuits. What a night. So I get up
Thursday morning on the first alarm, so I can take an obnoxiously long shower. Hey look; we have no hot water again. Wow. This sucks. So I have to go to work with nasty hair. Yuck. And I'm sluggish because I still haven't shit even 1 of the 3 shits coming to clear out the burrito fiesta. But I trudged on to work. I was good on the phone today. At my first break I called in to the apartments here to get maintenance to come fix our water. Our contest at work had 3 winners; I was 1 of them. And they gave us gifts; calenders and coupons. Free Blockbuster rentals? 10? Thanks guys. So I got to leave early, I think. I hope I didn't just walk out of there at 2 for no reason. I could've worked out, but I was looking at a bathroom blowout somewhere--so I came home. Supposedly we have hot water. So I shit, and then showered. Nice. I didn't know that both would be short term. I cooked ricey deluxified for my baby. Dinner was excellent. Then she got to take 1 dreamy shower. Snuggle time, then her 2nd shower. During my 2nd shower, the hot water went buh-bye again; not good. To distract us, we sat and watched the Bourne Supremacy that I went and rented at Blockbuster. Decent flick, crappy camera angles; does anybody hold cameras still anymore? Jeezus. Phone tag with WD; we will work more on that later. And now it's 9:30. I watched my PTI, flossed and made lunch--all usual. 11:30, and it could be bedtime. It was. Up
with no shower again for Thursday 1-20. Hat trick baby. We're getting Gus worked on after work. Maybe this was another day that I left a few minutes early; gee. Home, and then to Pep Boys. Static Girl picked me up and bought me a Subway dinner; nice--she likes me. I ate, and got sleepy. Tried to lay down, but couldn't sleep. Went to get Gus and drove him...to the bar! Great pinball therapy, and golf. You need 320 million to get my lowest score off of Monster Bash pinball; good luck. Home and smiling before midnight. We're sleeping. Up
for Friday, with a shower. This calls for the Fig Dish shirt. I was in a pretty good mood because of getting to shower. Singing Monster Magnet's version of "Black Celebration" all day. And I was pumped about Friday evening with my baby--might stay in tonight. The day was okay, and then it was time to head to the gym; frst time this week. Wow; I weigh 215--I'm not skinny like I was when Mom was here. I ripped my arms up hard; even if I can't see results--I'm going to feel them. Home to ask my baby what she'd like for dinner. She said 'food'. Hmmm. So I cooked up yummy fried rice stuff. It worked well. Then it's snuggle time, where I went above and beyond; ha. Post snuggle, the bugs began to bite. I went for solo party time. Not a bad plan, but lousy application. I drank like a guy NOT going to work Saturday; dumb. By the time I got home, midnight, I was in party mode. Even with an extra hour of sleep,
getting up Saturday morning was tough. I opted for no shower--stupid. I needed the shower. So I went to work cloudy and in no mood for it. Bad. This day would strain me like no other. I was all pissy; even after getting 5 pieces of pizza. Wound up having a really long and ugly call to end my day, and may have lost the money I earned. I left all huffy and snide. Came home and then stomped off to go shopping. I'm not mad at my girl, and I tried to let her know that--I even asked her what movie she'd like for me to rent for us. So I just need to go shop, calm down, and remember how my girlfriend makes me better than all the other fucking morons out there. I did all of this very well--shopping therapy is good, it was truck day at the 99cent store--so they had lots of veggies. Cool. Code Red is on sale at Fry's, and some nice lady was bringing back a copy of "Catwoman" at Blockbuster, so I was able to get it from her. Yay. Home; in a good mood, with $50 of groceries, tons of chocolate, and the movie SHE wanted--I AM the best boyfriend ever! So we would watch the movie, after talking with Dave O about winning his piss test. He starts a new job on Monday; go Dave. Catwoman was not horrible; a decent B movie, actually. Then I got to watch 2 days of my PTI, yum, and pretty soon I'm wondering what's next. Static Girl is entertaining herself in her room, with her buddy Jack. I'm going to have to go back and play a little--because I can. It's a festival with SLP, MAM and VNZ; I won neither game of golf--imagine that. MAM got cut off for being drunk and on Vicodin; so I snagged a couple of pills from him--I want to be drunk and on Vicodin, too! Fun; this is a calm drunk; very laid back. Wow; we can stay until after 1 am. Now I'm hungry; bad. But I came home and just ate a little chocolate; no burrito feast or chili cook-off. Wow; a responsible laid-back Vicodin drunk; who knew? Crashing with the alarm set for...noon? Oh I LIKE this! Passed out and drooling by 4 am.
Phones don't bother me; neither do the yelling children. Happy Sunday. I got up, brewed coffee, and cleaned the kitchen floor--I'm a pretty good roommate, too. Games begin at 2 here; so I'm planning my chili-fest and salad marathon while drinking this organic, shade-grown nectar. Kiss me. A day off! This is what I've been waiting for! I got productive; cleaning, dusting, vaccum. Barney delivered to my door...but only half of my order. Now I'm hungry. Chili time. 2 Stag boxes, 2 jalapenos, 2 cloves of garlic, 2 kinds of cheese, 1 small bottle of Texas Pete, and garnished with a sliver-sliced serrano pepper on top. Hope it's hot enough for me; it's not. Shit. Whoa; wait a second--the serrano peppers sneak up on you. This would be my one meal today. And, c'mon folks, I've been a Patriots fan since 2000--and an AFC East fan since 1989--I KNEW what was going to happen later (2nd game) in Pittsburgh. The only question was 'to choke or not' for the (1st game) Eagles. Poor Falcons. I cried all through the 2nd half, but that was the 99cent store serrano peppers apparently. By the time the 2nd game was in hand, I was making plans with TPG to play golf at bar #1. That happened. In a stroke of GOOD judgement, I opted to NOT go to the nudey bar. I thought about going home. It was raining outside; great. So I decided to go golf in the bar across the street. Golf good. "R" showed; haven't seen him in months. He's broke. I took him home; he had done some estate cleaning for the widow of a successful businessman. I now own a trash bag full of ties. Cool. Came home at midnight, and decided to go get some sleep.

The Week Ending Sunday 1-16-05

The rest of Sunday 1-9-05 was quiet. I got to thank Static Girl's parents. Listening to alternative GLU at 8 pm; I also have the first ever GLU, and you probably don't even know who the hell GLU is. Ha. It's my world here; I sure don't need any other people around screwing up the flow. Yeah, but this is all boring as shit. I'm on the edge of something, and it probably isn't something good. When my frustration with other people in my life causes me to lash out at my girlfriend, maybe it's time to adjust things again. I'm going to bed.
Got up for work Monday. No shower. Bite me. Jeans and a Bulldog Cure shirt--I'm the cool old guy. All my calls are outbound and bad; I had zero before lunch. Mixed up after lunch, tapped a few prospects, but ended with nothing. Total zero for the day. Lucky for you sheep that I'm in a decent mood. Or not. Who cares? I'm just a pissy guy with a purple web page; have you seen Headline News lately? There're entire cities washing down rivers right now, okay? A hot + cold sales job narrated by a lucky guy with friends who date poorly just ain't such a big thang right now. It's almost 8. Instead of going out and partying, I stayed in and watched tv; some good, and some bad. Bite me. Then I went to bed before midnight. Thought I'd read a little in my new business book first; uh-oh. It's hard to sleep again. Shit. So now I'm up and re-doing the list of 50 Cd's; now it's 58. And I want to write, and smoke, and yell. Hey; it's only 2 am. Cover your ears. I would get back to bed before 3, and slept a little before those alarms for
work Tuesday. I had to snooze an extra 2 or 3, knowing that I could just work 30 minutes later today if I want. I asked for a good day on the way in, and maybe it was heard. At work, my patience would be tested early with a faulty computer. When it completely shut down on a money call I could have thrown a justified fit; I did not. I may even be transfering to a different deparment with less pressure. Eventually I would hat trick, in a good mood, singing the chorus to L7's "Pretend We're Dead" all day. Also came up with an idea for a movie for me; one more night on the radio. Cool. I would leave and go by TPG's restaurant; he's going to a class. Said we might could get together later; okay. Then I went to the bank, and a few trips to Checker Auto parts, and gas. Home eventually to a quiet girlfriend. Ate a little dinner, and then I got tired. The sleepy's caught up with me; this could kill most of the early night. It did. I napped and woke up at 10 pm. My disc copier is not functioning, so I can't make back-ups of my own music. Darn. All of a sudden, it's time for
work Wednesday. I went on time, and was going to keep a good attitude. Wound up getting a couple of great calls. I ended up being the best on my team; wow. We even got to leave early, because our team won the little team contest thing we were in. Yay team. Then I went to workout. Workouts are probably the best relievers of stress, what with all of that "good" pain and all. Doing the arm exercises until I cannot anymore, and all those weird noises I make--I like that. I'm gaining weight now? Great. 215 and rising. Get me home already; I'm cooking zucchini. Yum. Then it's snuggle time; look at me go. Then I'm heading to the bar. Exit Southpark pinball; hello Monster Bash pinball. Weak flippers, but a good machine. Great golf later with a rookie dad; he learned much. Came home before midnight; I meant to go to work...
up Thursday for work. Not yet. First I have to shit on myself. 2wice? Now I'm not so sure about work. Nope; no work. Sorry. So it's a day off! I'm calling Qwest, and working on web stuff. 4 cups of this incredible organic coffee; wheee! Talked to my FCP; she seemed to understand my indigestive situation. I'm very lucky that my worked-out body doesn't hurt more than it does. More strange music here. X-Files with Keenan bands on the CD burner; new Perfect Circle, but no Tool. Later I would go have new Chicago Gyros dinner with TPG and talk. I put a pleasant spin on all my comments. Good times. He tried to fix my driver's door. Thought he was going to meet me at Sam's, where I put up all the high scores on Monster Bash pinball; starting with 353 million. Left 5 games on it, woo. New golf was good too. Alone. Passing out now. Up
for work Friday. Don't remember much. Maybe I hat tricked. The days of drinking are clouding memories--if there were any. Whatever. I think my paycheck was pretty good. Would eventually get to the gym and have the best workout ever; I'm still hurting on Sunday. Home to cook up leftovers, and feed her chocolate (I may be the best boyfriend ever, too, shhh). Then I would get to have incredible snuggle with my girl. And then I'm heading to the bar for more pinball. Some games of Monster Bash pinball last less than 2 minutes; some last an hour. 557 million is the new high score, with a double Monster Bash. I don't remember which day I put up the 557, but it's there. So is a 350 something, and a 270 something. Damn the cloudy drunk memories. Came home at 11:30; I gave the nudey bar boys enough time to come and find me--they chose not to. Again; whatever. I had to crash and get ready for
work Saturday. I got about 3 1-hour naps as my sleep for this adventure. A little hungover, sure, what's new? And it would be a very impressive hat trick. I know this because I hat-tricked both Saturday and Sunday; details are sketchy. I remember being hungry by the time Saturday was over. My plan was to come home and then go get Subway for my baby and me. Great plan; she was hungry and everything. Bummer; today is not the NE/Indy football game. Crap. Well, I'm going to the bar anyway. Falcons game tonight, too. Steelers win in overtime while I'm en route to the bar. At the bar, there will be poker later, too. Here's a guess; I taught 3 people how to play golf, ruled golf, and made physically impossible things happen on the pinball machine. Sounds about right; welcome to my world. Came home before getting too crazy. Bed and up
for work Sunday. I don't feel good; gee, imagine. Typing this now during commercials of my Patriots game. 1 touchdown could beat the Colts; wow. Okay then. See ya in Pittsburgh next week. Cool. I'm going to not go to the bar tonight; first night in...awhile. I kinda miss the bar. Oh well. Apparently I'm lazy tonight; not even going to do laundry. Lunch here was good; can of tamales, box of chili, 2 big jalapenos and a garlic clove. Kiss me; I am Fartman. So the maturity is just oozing out of me here. Did I...almost had a writing idea; new pinball machine is like a new poem idea in your head--stages of development/mastery, building to a completed project/new high score. Sure. But it's blah. I'm not writing or doing world news anymore; the world is fucked. Watch it wash away on Headline News. Who really cares about my writing? Right; me. So if I don't care--then I'm not writing. So what?

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