Old Personal News
(Starting with the week ending 2-6-05)
The Fuzzy Week That Ended 2-13-05
The rest of Superbowl Sunday took place at the bar. My thumbs are all chewed off from being very nervous through the entire game, just like last year. I yelled; I screamed; I peed alot. Don't know if I've ever sat through a whole Superbowl before, but I did here. Heard some 3 Doors Down once, and some Fat Boy Slim another time coming back from commercials. It was fun sitting--in the bar--and looking over my body injuries from the past 3 days; bruises, twists, burns; yeah, those are teeth marks--who bit me? I got bit? Maybe I did get in a fight Friday night. My bootball predictions were half and half; I said the Patriots would win, but that the Eagles wouldn't score 20. Give the Eagles credit for covering; I would've lost that bet if the bookie would have made it for me. I even felt so enriched that I went for a couple of cheap golf games across the street. Go me. Then I came home to lay in bed for hours--in between trips to the bathroom. It seems that I forgot to mention my trip to Del Taco after work on Sunday. Sunday; it's all so hazy now. I sure didn't go to the Del on Monday--I was still shitting--but we'll get to that later. We need to go back and talk about the mystery left knee injury, too. Deep bruise from the kneecap up to the outter thigh; this is the type of injury that hurts the more you think about it. And it's sore; like it really HAS been there since Friday night--so who knows? Why did I go back to the bar Saturday night? Were there some unanswered questions from Friday night's run? Oh wait; I didn't play any pinball Friday. Right. So I had to go back for poker and pinball--and find TNY. So where are we? We would wake up
for work Monday in semi-good shape, all things considered. Work. Oh it was a crappy day. I didn't expect much, and I was right. So I gargled through the day; gargoyled? Garbled? Something. It's Monday; what the fuck do you want from me? Did we feel like working out Monday? Oh sure; it was the main thing on my mind. Not. But I went to the gym after the weak workday. Arms; more arms stuff--early and often. Did my 2 circuits, and then came home to fry up the rice and black beans that I started this morning. I was apparently more coherent this am than I thought. Oh but I was mad about not yet getting the Bill Hicks DVD. It should've come on Friday, didn't, and then didn't come on Monday either. Fuck. So I called and raised minor hell. They'll try again 2maro. Then I was hoping for some snuggle. Turns out that my punishment for the partying week past was a no-snuggle Monday. Whatever. I was too frazzled to throw a fit. Too frazzled? Why don't we just go to bed? So at 8:30 it became bedtime. Good move--or so I thought. Sleep; and lots of it. So then I'm up
for dressed up work Tuesday. Yellow shirt, nice blue tie; big black boots--I was the man. But I was all huffy--I don't even know why. And hungry; that's a breakfast burrito at break. Lots of girls were checking me out; a few said I looked cute. Cute? Do they know I'm 40? Turns out that the girls in my new group didn't know I was 40. They thought I was maybe 30; I'm as old as 1 girl's stepdad--though much cooler. But...I'm in a bad mood here--don't be nice. Then I got a hat trick; then a double hat trick. Shit; now this just is not fair. I fought hard to not be in a good mood. Okay; why? I don't know. It just takes too much work to be alive. There's a fucking quote for you, bitch. Too much work; alive. I'm going home to find my Bill Hicks DVD, dammit. Found it. Okay. Then a bread store run, and back home to try to figure out why I feel so crappy. Well; no sex and no bar Monday...maybe. Grrr. Quick phone calls: To MoM; she got the mail package from my FCP, and Mom is ready to go. TPG may even come out tonight--if I do. Hey; maybe I should go back to the bar. Yeah; I could go back to the bar and look for a sign. Just wait. So I went early; before 8 pm. Called TPG on G's phone, from the bar, to say where I was. Apparently TPG was on the way up to Sam's when his phone rang again--this time it was Pool Guy, who had missed his usual Tuesday activities, and had headed for the other bar. I respect that. So TPG calls me to say that we will all come together soon--and it'll be nutty. Right. So I ran out to Gus and tried the experiment again. Now I'm distracted enough for some good pinball. (For the first time) On Monster Bash I won 2 games on my first ball, with 2 Monster Bash's; 192 million. Nice. Only a 320 total game, but that's the new high score. Had a couple other 200+ million games, too--that's a tough machine. Then the boys showed. Big party. I ruled all golf. E-Rock showed; that's Caviar on the jukebox. Work 2maro is looking iffy at best; forgot that I never had a real dinner. Hmmm; that could be burritos on the ride home. Party guy B showed up, too. He's the one who helped me drop off Gus Friday night; maybe he can tell me how I got home, or how I got this bruise on my leg that looks like I fell out of a moving car. He remembers less about Friday night than I do; great. So I survived an interactive holo-deck drunk Friday night; one with some kind of unknown major body impact, bruises, and nobody's sure how I got home. Didn't somebody JUST tell me recently that I'm not 22 anymore? But I was 22 Friday night; all night (no you weren't). B may even turn out to be a store; wow...So; what do you mean it's last call? Wow; 1 am. This isn't like responsible people. I need some burritos. So we got food on the way home; yum. Had a full feast until 2 am; giggling and making num-num noises. Work; ha. There's no way. But I went to bed, with the alarm set...
I'm up Wednesday, and in an emergency it would have been enough to make it to work; seriously. I need to thank the Chaser people. As you stay awake for 5 or 10 minutes, with what normally makes for a horrible hangover, you actually start to feel BETTER--that's amazing! However; I decided to take my off day today--instead of 2maro, and watch some Bill Hicks. I have other things to do, as well--like call IT about getting a new golf card. Boy this 2000 Caviar sounds good; E-Rock still doesn't have any Caviar shirts, and that makes him stoopid. You promote obscure bands with shirts, dipshit. But that's not what today's about. Today is about Bill Hicks. I proclaim 2-9-05 as Bill Hicks day; and I ordered my new Golden Tee card, too. All future 2-9's will continue to be Bill Hicks' days. Cool. I watched all 3.5 hours of my new DVD, most of the 10-93 Bill Hicks on Public Access tv show, and heard most of Rant in E Minor. The only thing I haven't heard, and still want to, is the exact verbal presentation of the infamous non-Letterman performance. I have it, somewhere, and remember it, I just can't seem to find it right now. I'll find it 2maro. Big 5 couldn't find my Air Corps shoes, but they did find a phone # for me to call--and I appreciate the effort. So; do I feel better about life today? Has saturation into the thoughts of who is, perhaps, my darkest and most obvious influence made me feel better about my presently confused life situation? Yes it has. Still lost, and still losing, I am; but I feel much better about the obscurity of my world. Someday I will miss these days, here, as being somehow better than they were. Sure. The biggest part of my 5 years in Phoenix...will be that I knew, and worked at--for 4 months, the record label that signed Blake Smith's Caviar band. Even though (record label owner) E-Rock is a worthless lying prick--he's just another idiot fuck I tolerate who owes me money. Bed. Up
in decent shape for work Thursday. It's Thursday, right? Sure; it can be whatever fucking day you want it to be--I'm in Bill Hicks mode here. I'm going to go, and do; la-de-fucking-da, but it ain't like any of this matters. Bitch. I'll try to keep a good attitude, but good advice would be to not push me. So I'm at work, with a red power tie on, groovin a little. I was lucky to be 1 of the 2 people with 2 outta 3 today; sure. But I wasn't going to let it bother me. In a few minutes I'll be sitting in Dr. J's chair, smelling burning drill bits and eating my own enamel, wondering what is so bad about sitting on the phone. Yeah; there ain't much to look forward to after work today. No steak, no sex, no plan for the bar. A nap might be nice. See how laid back I am? I might be done caring; your loss. So we leave work, and have to head straight for the dentist. Near work, a car had somehow been flipped over onto its hood; I passed it as the firetrucks got there--right now I don't have time to care. I'm at Dr. J's for less than 5 minutes, and it's my turn. Doc needle-pokes me some painkiller for my 2 fillings. Oh that's not enough, there, I can still feel everything. More needles! Yes! 6 shots later, I can't feel shit. Let's drill. And, hey fuck it, let's do all 4 teeth right there in that row. Get 'em; get 'em all. Rrrrrr, zid, zid, zid, zid, rrrrrrr; oh yeah, fuckin' my teeth were spraying all over my shirt, and the floor; it sounded like the doc and nurse walking around wearing tap shoes! Tickety-top, tappity-tick; kicking my teeth around everywhere. Remember; Dr. J doesn't like me; I should wear a "She hate me" bandana. I was giggling. And we're done; cool. Supposedly I can floss all of the previous week's fillings by now; she's fucking wrong of course, but I didn't feel like drool-arguing with her in front of the screaming kids. Oh; the kids! Screaming; you ask? In case you don't know this, parents no longer beat children when the kids cry at the dentist's office. Yeah; I know that WE got beaten at the first sign of whine--it was our punishment for knowing that we didn't floss, and the doc was about to 'send the pain below'. Our parents wouldn't let us act up in the dentist's office at all; our parents became like Army officers; I remember mine enunciating clearly 'you will shut up right now!' But these new-age stripper parents all let the kids cry and shrill, run around, stomp and spit. I had to pee at one point, and a little girl had stated her displeasure by shitting on the floor of the bathroom--like a dog, maybe? My first reaction was of 'Hey, little sister, I respect that.' And then I remembered that MY parents would STILL be beating me if I ever got close to shitting on the floor at the doc's office. As I exited the bathroom, I showed her mom what the darling child had done, and her mom wouldn't even go near it--it was like 'stripper mom' didn't want to be at the dentist's office either; hmmm. And stripper mom didn't think that cleaning up after her own little pole-dancer was her responsibility--big shock. But I don't care enough to mix it up anymore. So I finished up; of course I got another 'script for Vicodin--it's too bad that I actually need it. There's another sign of growing up--right there; getting pain medication legally, with a prescription, because you actually need it. I'd rather be paying 'Cooter $3 a pill in the bathroom--for the weekend (c'mon, gimme 4 for $10, Coot), and NOT actually need this shit. God damn I'm old. Right. Back to the 4, count 'em, 4 fillings today. Wow; that's $120. For at least one week; this week, I will be spending more at the dentist than at my bar and my dealer combined. Wow. See? I told you that new 'sponsible Overnight Guy might show up this week. As I mulled this necessarily evil chore over, I decided to go shopping on the way home. Good move; it's truck-day at the 99cent store. Lots of veggies and Horchatta. Then I'm home to fry up zucchini and potatos; can almost feel my mouth. Static Girl seems semi-pleased with my endeavors. Since the bar might be calling me, I decided to do a load of laundry; good boy. Hey; there's my missing lighter! That was an hour ago. Now I'm just hearing obscure Dig, and pondering shit. Tried to call a new store, and that just started a long-assed anxiety attack on the phone--I don't need that. Perhaps other stores have less turmoil, even with higher prices. Look at all these things to consider with the new attitude. My mouth hurts; we could just eat a couple of Vicodin and go to bed. Nice...Up
amazingly well-rested for Friday. Nice shower, too. Jeans and a Bulldog shirt; let's party. Oh it's a slow ass day again. And it's raining. Everybody else is all pissy; I'm just my regular whatever--it's a beautiful day--even with the rainy stuff. It's rained for like, 3 weeks now; has anybody noticed that? It rained so much that it flooded our water supply, weeks ago, and it's still raining now--I'm just pointing things out. It probably doesn't rain this much in Oregon. Why am I so tired? And why do I have to pee so much? And I'm hungry. And I don't know about working out today. Breakfast burrito at break, baby. In sales--I got nothing; wait, I got a little baby one. Okay; but I could have gone zero for the whole day. Lots of other pissy fuckers did. Fuck 'em. Late in the day, we moved to the other side of the room. I wound up in a seat near somebody's little stereo. So I had soft house music above, and some country music in front of me. Compared to silence, country is okay. That's a compliment, right? Resin is better than just naked stems, right? That's how I play it. So; it turns out that I needed to shit--that's why I didn't feel like working out. Girlfriend had said she wants to get her hair cut tonight. But that was before the floods came back. I don't want to go drink OR look for drugs in the rain; but I might go for a haircut. We'll see. Hearing the "Boys" soundtrack; it has another Orbit song on it. Cool. Okay; my hot chick wants to go for the haircut still. So we'll check back later. Yeah, it's later. Days later. So we went to go see my haircut pro lady. She rocks. She made me look good, and my girlfriend look great! Then she tried to give us a discount, and didn't want us to tip. What? We took the discount, but I slid her 5$ anyway. She likes me. Then we're home to shave, shower and snuggle. Usual exquisite performance here. Then I had already decided on a bar run. I'm just stupid. Tried to call TPG once, but fuck it man; stay at your bar--I'll stay at mine. I played great golf with those 2 guys--whatever their names are, hours of golf, and still got beat a couple of times. We're already Chasing another science experiment--this is such a bad idea. I wound up getting a couple of beers and half a quesadilla out of the golf lessons. What do you mean it's after midnight? Oops. I meant to be in bed by midnight. So I came home and ate a Vicodin; ha! What the hell was I thinking? So I giggled myself to sleep, and then the alarms start going off at
4:30 Saturday. Oh this sucks. Hey wait; no headache. And I'm dizzy, yes, but not actually blurry. And I ache a little, but I've felt worse than this on a regular school day. Hell, I felt worse than this yesterday! This isn't even a real hangover--this is sissy shit! God damn I need to thank the Chaser people. Can you see me doing 5 different commercials for them? I can. I'm not dancing or anything--because I'm not a morning person, but I can deal with this. So we're off to work; 30 minutes late, yes, bite me. At least I went; a couple people on our team did not. Bye! Have fun flipping burgers and wrapping burritos! I like working in a place where I'm not the only drunk loser with issues. My hair's so short nobody knows I didn't shower; ha! I actually slipped out of Bill Hicks mode for awhile because I was so happy to be awake, semi-coherent, employed, and at work. And coffee; I had coffee. This just in--I like coffee. The phones started slow for me, but they got better. Hat trick before 10 am. Huh? I even led my group in 1 of the 3--that's damn good. Then pizza came! And some good hot wings, too. I pigged out, or maybe that's chickened out. Now I'm home, and I'm tired. Girlfriend took a nap, but I did not. I made a yummy dinner salad for her to eat when she awoke; she appreciated that. Watched the last half of the Bill Hicks on Austin Public Access again--cool. Now I'm done trying to think of reasons to not go to the bar. Clean out the change jar and let's go! Right. So we went and played poker 2wice; 7 and 10 pm. I was the first person gone from both of my 2 tables. Ha. Then I took my 3rd ride, yes that's right kiddies, 3rd ride, and then came back for more golf. You'd think I would eventually get sick of that golf game--no. Hardly played any pinball, but got 2 little high scores. Woo. Home around midnight (5 hours at the bar--on a skool night), and I crashed. Strange sleep, and we're up
to go to work Sunday. Only 1 minute late today; wow. I felt rough. But I would get through, get some $, and have a fairly productive day. Sure. I can already see myself at the bar this evening; bad. I have 2maro off for a Dr. D appointment. Came home and called MoM; she's pissy like me right now. But then I went and made some crying serrano pepper nachos; ouch. Now I'm thinking about a shower--don't want to go to the bar dirty.
The Drunk Week That Ended On 2-6-05
The rest of Sunday 1-30-05 was pretty unexciting. Unshowered, unmotivated, and pessimistic; what a party! Tried to call a few people, and got nothing. But I didn't kill anybody. Went and got a Sunday paper, and had a cheap lunch at Burger Burger. Came back and tried to watch tv; that was stupid. Yawn. It's almost midnight here, and I'm ready to give up. Gave up and went to sleep. Up
to the alarms for Monday. I showered, and put on my workout clothes for my final day on this team. Police helicopters, 3 of them, were in the sky above our apartments; loud and furious. Driving around the corner, I saw 3 firetrucks and a dozen police cars underneath the copters; this is 6 in the fucking morning here. Also saw a civilian guy walking around with no shirt on; very strange. Got to work, and started in on it. Baby Tab, but no AFI. With 2 outta 3, I got to leave at lunch--and took 2 more people to the gym with me. People at the gym are impressed how I've gotten so many people recruited. If only I could do my new business like this. No major workout, just a small one. Then to get gas, and come home. Called my FCP; she's still crazy about me. Now I'm just hanging. Girlfriend would come home and be happy that I had cooked rice. Then it was snuggle time. Then Barney starts his psycho clown babble, trying to take 4 hours to do a 30 minute job. Oh...he's broke again; gee imagine that. He wants to screw me over and disappoint me again--but I can get all of that I need from the others in my world. So I did some phone work of my own, and wound up going to see Pool Guy at the other place. We hung for awhile, but then I took hime back to Sam's to school him in golf. E-Rock is there; he would screw up a game of mine on purpose later--look at all the stupid shit I put up with. Wound up closing the bar down; very dumb. I should know better. Came home and crashed; but there was no way to go to work
Tuesday morning. So I miss my first day on the new team, and will probably get in bigger trouble 2maro. Fuck it. But I would make today okay. I did laundry and cleaned, cooked, too. Eventually would go shopping and get cool shit at stores; like 2 avacados for .99 at the 99cent store. Yum. Home to keep watching stupid tv, and am now getting stir crazy. Stayed in, though. Good boy. May not be so good 2maro. Up
with no second alarm on Wednesday. Huh? It's a conspiracy. But I'm up and showered, wearing a purple tie, heading in. A few of us would be kicked off the new usage team today. Okay. This is my trouble? I get to go back to JB's team, where I am loved? Oh I like this. I would do well, even with the schedule changes and later breaks. Sure. Lunch alone. Then I'm working out at my old time. Nice. Home to cook fantastic leftovers for my happy girlfriend; we were impressed. Then it's snuggle time. Yay. I am amazing. Then I'm starting to wonder about another science project. I may have to fill you in later. Science. It started at Walgreen's. A bad idea from the very beginning. Let's just say that the advertisements are accurate. I went to do some broken pinball and golf therapy. All went as it should have. Came home and crashed. Got up
and felt okay enough physically. I did. But my throat was raw. Started making excuses about how I didn't have to go to work. Why? Wow, wait, my throat really did hurt. Talking was tough. Okay. Back to bed. Sleeping till noon is so wonderfully beyond descriptive wording. Ahhh. No coffee needed. I do feel crappy about not doing my chores today, but that's the world of me. Eventually, after watching a few Superbowl shows on ESPN, it would be 2:45--and I'm heading back to the dentist's office. More pain, and 2 more big fillings. This would also lead to a script for some good Vicodin though; too bad I might need it. Friday night will be interesting; we'll do the experiment again--and with no way out. And I might have to play poker Saturday night. And girlfriend may not let me watch football here Sunday. I'm going to be spending some time at the bar over the next few days. Blow me. Laid in bed awake for hours, then up
for work Friday. They can't kick me off the new team--that's already done. They could write me up for disciplinary, or something, I don't know what they do here. I'll just discuss it with my team leader; what do you mean she's not here? I survive my cool job for 1 more day! Now I need some $, and some stash. No problem. My team at work is backing the Patriots. Oh I am drinking tonight. I had a great day, and then it's time to workout. Crowded gym for a Friday. Got my 2 short circuits in, and I'm heading home to cook brown rice. Girlfriend loved it. She's grumpy, so I had to perform mood-altering snuggle on her. I'm good. Then I'm getting ready to go find the boys. Found them at the other place. Took them back to my bar. Then it gets hazy. I know we went back to the bad place, but it's all so sketchy now. I am home,
and home still on Saturday, which is very bad. But I can work early on Sunday and make up for some of it. Missing 3 days of work in 1 week; what can your role model do? Where is this new, 'sponsible Overnight Guy? Keep looking; he might show up next week. What happened next? NO; tell me you did not go back to the bar. Oh shit; you did. 5 hours, huh? We gave golf and pinball lessons; partied with TNY 2wice--he and I had fun. His first 3 games of new golf. He has turned his rental property into a triple recording studio; nice, huh? He's in like, 3 different bands, too. Cool for him. So I come home at midnight--and we're working 2maro? Oh this is going to be fun. First we'll eat everything; right, so we don't go to bed until 2. Very smart--(along with the piss and the puke...) maybe we can shit in bed, too. Pay attention, doofus, we are not 22 anymore! We can't do this shit. Huh? Oh yeah; well it's Sunday afternoon now. We got up
in good enough Chaser shape for work Sunday. Fucking...wow. Nice shower, and we're off to the land of phone work. Sure. No food. I only shivered a little, not too short of breath, my heart was only beating 3 or 4 times a second--no big deal. The visual flashes were the best; where do they come from, anyway? Is that just regular hangover shit? But I faked through it all, and was 2nd on my team. That little chubby chick who beat me couldn't have done dick with my hangover, though; I win the impaired prize, baby. And girlfriend; oh my goodness. She was throwing plates and cups in the kitchen yesterday, because she was so mad at me (seriously--ask her). Now she can't even speak to me; she just glares. Oh, and her glares are mean--they make you cringe. I sure wouldn't want to be me right now. Well I, hmmm, don't want to bother her with football, and yelling at the tv here, so I'm gonna (no--you cannot be serious), yeah, I am definitely going (please stop, before it's too late), bite me; I'm going back to the bar! Can't breathe, hacking up internal organs, can't see straight--and this is about as sober as I get in between drunks, oh yeah. Game starts in 45 minutes. Fig Dish is motivating me. Why am I still here?
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