Old Personal News

(Starting with the week ending 3-6-05)

Another 6 Days in Phoenix--Ending on 3-11-05

The Last Days Before the First Trip to Oregon

Alarms set for Monday. Got up and almost fell over--my left ankle has been messed up for a few days. And we went to work. I won't be taking any shit for non-productivity from anybody--let 'em try. Nope. Nobody says a word. In fact, there were other horror stories about other teams having worse attendance than our team's on Sunday; wow--we only had 3 of 7 people show up. And we're slammed down busy today; I keep taking breaks after every call; ha. And I wound up doing okay, I guess--hat trick before lunch. I don't know how to judge this shit anymore. I did fine, and nobody complained. Then came the after-work scenario. I haven't worked out in a week--so I really need to--even though it's going to hurt. Yes. I went; H was there, too. I did my double circuit, and added this new thing on the new stand-up machine; this exercise is as close to the butterfly as we're going to get--I miss the butterfly. I'm going to hurt 2maro; sure, just as long as we don't go to the bar tonight. Umm. So we came home and cooked the asparagus I had been thinking about all day; I can't help that Static Girl was already eating some of her own pasta. Good for her; I'm cooking asparagus. Then I was eating asparagus; thank you. And there's more asparagus for later--if she wants some while I'm at the bar. We're not going to the bar. Umm. So tv frustrated us, and then it was snuggle time. Snuggle was good, and we're both tired. There is absolutely no reason to go to the bar tonight. Umm. Then girlfriend says that she's going to be busy playing e-mails, and can she and I be together 2maro. Sure. Hmm; so what can we do for the rest of the night now? Hey; don't they play poker at the bar on Monday nights, too? I could go to the bar! Sure. So I go to the bar at 7 on a Monday school night. I'm eating Chasers, taking rides, and partying like a...never mind. I'm already thinking about laying out of work 2maro. At least I'll call in. 1st person off of my table at 7; did you already figure that out? I LIKE the Texas hold 'em--I just ain't no good at it. Took another ride; stupid. Golf. Took another ride; dumbass. All of a sudden it's close to 10 pm, and I'm close to falling over. So I came home, and had every intention of going to work Tuesday. Really. Kinda. Sure. Sleep kept getting interrupted by trips to the bathroom. Bummer. And then the alarms came
at 5:30 am Tuesday. My head feels okay--the Chasers work again. But my stomach is a wreck. And then I stood up to the day-after-a-workout pain that you don't get when you actually workout 3 times a week. I should have seen all this coming; maybe I did. No; I won't be working today, thank you. And then the lunch plan came; a $6 burger at Carl's Jr. Yum. Then I came home, with the intent of watching lots of tv. TPG calls at 2:20 to tell me he just bought GT4; it must be nice. And then he comes up with the idea of an early blowout Tuesday--with Pool Guy. The only way to do this is to call it an early going away party, and for me to NOT be here when Static Girl gets home. I can do this. Left her a note that said to watch the movie, and hate me later. So I go get smokes, Chasers, and head for the bar early; way early. Supposedly the pinball machines have been fixed--so I started on Monster Bash. It works great; I had already won a game by the time they showed up. Then we head for the golf game. Turns out that, on the card, I'm in division 1--the one for experts. I have no problem with this, but the 3 of us are in 3 different divisions, with 3 different tee placements. None of our tee shots are from the same spot--which makes it unequal for betting purposes. Pool Guy beat me easily with this advantage; on equal terms I won the 2nd game (duh). Then the other pool players start calling Pool Guy from the other bar. So we had to do part of my blowout down at the other bar, while watching some pretty good pool get played. By the time we got dropped off back at the first bar, we're way gone. More beer and drunk golf now; great. The only thing left to do would be to...we actually went through the Eriberto's drive thru and got burritos; ha. Oh that's just stupid. Bedtime would soon follow, and the alarms that screamed Wednesday morning came to life. Hmmm. Can we pretend that Wednesday just never happened? I have to plead the 5th on work; I felt guilty, too. Guilty giggles during GT2. So I'm caught! No snuggle, I have no money left, no plan to leave this weekend, and now I'll get fired from my cool job, too. It was my going away party last night...going away from what? Fair question. Reality? Reality has left the building. But what if...what if we can somehow pull all of this through the eye of that needle in the haystack? Mix those metaphors, boy. If anybody could...place your bets. So I did a little cooking and cleaning; garlic taters make a nice dinner. Yeah. Girlfriend comes home and starts in with weekend plans and stuff. Good. I have to go get maps 2maro. Then it's dinner time. She feels all crappy and tired; so I told her that she could take tonight off if she wanted--no snuggle (I'm such a nice guy). She went and fell asleep on her bed. I went to check on her after about 40 minutes; told her to straighten out her head on the pillow, so she wouldn't have more neck pain. She smiled. I started the movie that she watched last night; "Day After Tomorrow". Got about 1 minute into the flick, and girlfriend came out and sat on the edge of the warped tour. I asked if she wanted me or the movie, and SHE said me! Woo-hoo! So we're off to snuggle land. Yay. And then it was movie time again. She came out to watch some of it with me, but it wound up being over an hour of it. Cool. Then it was her bedtime. I wasn't very tired; gee imagine. Talked myself into going to bed before 1 am; yes, it took 2 Vicodins. I still have to go get fired 2maro; don't want to be too coherent for that. I'm going to play the sympathy card; you know, stomach virus, can't keep food down--I shouldn't even be here today. You may have heard of my doing this before; I sell it pretty well. Sure. Lemme practice my "mope" face...oh yeah, baby, I'm on. So I go to work and shiver a little, apologize alot. Oh my goodness--it worked! I shouldn't be so surprised, but I am. And I would have 2 coaches sit with me; both thought I was very talented. Sure; apparently I'm multi-talented. Another easy hat trick; hang on, we're gonna go fake a puke. Oops; stuck my finger too far down my throat--this ain't no fake puke now! Ha. Now I can eat tic-tacs, too. I'm a fucking genius. My story was that I needed to use soup, or broth, to keep food down. Hey; whatever--sounds like a great story to me. Woo; all hail the stomach virus. And the soup in the cafe was split pea; natural shit and puke fuel. I couldn't have drawn this up any better. Lunch talking; even at great jobs like this one there will be little whiney fat girls who want something different, something better, something more. It's the nature of women; but these are the women on my team--so we cut them a little slack. Turns out that the other credit companies we've been stealing customers from for 20 years are starting to get pissed. Not only are they trying to match our regular promotions; but 1 of these companies has apparently figured out that it might be a good move to try to lure some of the people working here away from this place. See this? They want to get some of our good producers over there--and see how it's done. I'm involved in a little baby quiet corporate baller raid! No shit? This is a definite first for me. They're offering $14 an hour to start, with full benefits, and extras. Damn sweet. Problems? Well, yes! This job centers from downtown Phoenix, and I'm leaving Phoenix in 20 days. But it was nice to be a part of it for 2 seconds; bye. Calm down, big guy; stomach virus. You may have to puke some pea soup to get out of here today. Or I could just tear up the sales lines. Hmm. So my $ were light, but I was at the top of 2's and 3's again--and this is with a stomach virus! Okay; not really. Shit. But I did well. So after work I'm heading to get maps at AAA. Check. Back home to pick up girlfriend and go get car supplies. Then I dropped her off here and went for some pizza and wings at Ray's. Nice. Then home to talk travel and watch tv. Taped some news show for girlfriend, and then we're doing loads of laundry. Look at all this productivity--I hardly even thought of going to the bar. Then we're plotting the music for this adventure. My old box, Buddy, came out of the closet--and we're checking tapes. Girlfriend says no Peter Gabriel; boo. So I'll make a double Caviar tape, ha. Now it's 11, and I need to go to bed.
It's weeks later now; back from Oregon, and we're all still sick--from getting sick on the trip up there. That final Friday before leaving was okay at work; maybe I made notes. Hang on...Yes! Here we go--from actual paper! "Got up. Would play that I felt much better today. I ran the full spectrum at work; got in trouble during a coaching, and thern shmoozed my way out of it. One lady insisted on speaking to my supervisor, so I just put the phone down for 5 minutes while I read an article on Greenday in Entertainment Weekly (my co-workers were amused). As the day went, I was running with #1 in the room to be top dog. In a twist of luck, I led the room in 1's and 3's, and was tied for the lead in 2's. No wonder they cut me so much slack. Any days I missed this week are chalked up as PTO now, too. Cool. So we head home at 2:45 to start clearing out the fridge. I like eating the old fridge stuff. Okay; I like eating everything...Then we start packing. Clothes, toys, and food, too. Soon enough, girlfriend is home for snuggle. Nice. And we're getting more stuff ready for the trip. Pretty soon, I'm heading for the bar. Pool Guy is already trashed at the bad bar--he's already called a cab. Fine. I head to Sam's. LAH pinball has been replaced by No Fear pinball. Won a few games; then I scored the 10.6 billion high score that had 162 jumps. Wow. Over to golf; met Brett. Brett's cool. We drink, smoke, and golf. He buys me a game and a beer. All of a sudden it's midnight. Oh this is going to hurt. Kept telling him how pissed my girlfriend was going to be at him. Then I'm home + dancing on the balcony; stupid. Then it's a GT2 party, dumbass. Finally, after 2 am, I'm asleep. A 3-hour tour. Up to panic pack at 6 am Saturday. Not 2 hungover; thanks again Chaser. We're out at 7:30. I was tired. Nodded in and out. It's easy when you're not driving. At the first gas stop, we have engine concerns. Transmission troubles." This will lead to a whole little commentary later; I just wanted to throw down Friday here.

Then we get back from the trip on a Tuesday, so it's ...

Tuesday 3-22-05, to Sunday 3-27-05; Back From Oregon

What day is it? We got back on Tuesday night, around 9 pm. We unload the car; both of us are still coughing and hacking (I got sick on the trip, and girlfriend finally caught it, too). Came back here to my bathroom to shit; the same bathroom that I did NOT sterilize before leaving, and there're at least 20 sink bugs in my sink, having a little sink bug orgy, and they're laughing at me. Fuckers. So I yelled and swatted; killed them all, and then bleached the sink. That was fun. Bleach everywhere. So then it became a bleach party; toilet, stall, floor. Ant killer spray, too. And disinfectant spray; I do love to spray in the bathroom, you know. Oh yeah; I had shit on myself at the first sign of the sink bugs--that's why we went to the bathroom--to shit, so this whole cleaning adventure was kind of a guilt-laden, reactionary to stimulus thing. A cold sweat adrenaline cleansing--with poopy pants. So then I'm washing out underwear, and calling TPG. He's been playing with the new people; the guy used to workout with me in the gym at what is left of my current cool job. I decided to NOT go to the bar on my first night back--figuring that there will be many days of bardom in my last week here (no shit). Balcony dance dumbass is me, and then I'm waking up for work, when? Wednesday? Sure. So we're up
Wednesday for work. Poor sick girlfriend got up with me. And I go to work. They've all missed me. Turned in my notice; and they'll let me make Sunday my last day of work. I felt a little better sick-wise, and then after lunch I started coughing again. Bummer. I did okay at production. Post-work I came straight home to check on my girl--she's still a mess. Cooked potatos. I figured there would be no snuggle--she feels terrible. So we decided to skip. All day long I had been thinking about going to the bar, and then I didn't go. Wow. I have a feeling this may be my last sober night for a while (no shit). Bed. Up
for work Thursday. Wow. What a day. No boss. This is going to mean lots of breaks in-between calls. Yes. And I still produced well. I like days with no boss. How are we all still employed? I'm not the only slacker with bad work habits here, and I still produce. I'm already figuring on an early bar run tonight. Right; so I can still make it to work 2maro. What a fine plan! Came home to check on the woman; she still feels like crap. Talked to my FCP; she's doing well. She suggests that I make girlfriend a lemony-honey drink. So I did. Girlfriend loved it! So then I felt good enough to leave her. I'm gone. Pinball and golf. Rides. Whoo. And then I was just about ready to leave at 10. TPG's new friends showed; and then TPG showed, too. And I was having a 7 bil game on No Fear pinball anyway. So I stayed about 3 beers too many--for some more golf. Oh this is going to hurt 2maro. My first party night in weeks turns into a 6-hour endurance rip. So I'll be calling off work 2maro; and girlfriend will hate me (no shit). Oh well. I came home and actually did all the prep to go to work. I THOUGHT about trying to go; and it's the thought that counts. Then it's Friday morning. Up
to the sounds of my throat burning. Again; my stomach and head would have been good enough to work--it was just my throat. Chasers still rule; I'll still work for them someday. Girlfriend came in and tried to wake me. Oh is she pissed. I slept until noon; sleep is the best medicine ever, anyway. And she won't talk to me; wonder if I'll wind up at the bar again--'coz I don't have to work 2maro. It IS Friday; it IS my last Friday in Phoenix. Tried to call TPG at 6; he said he'd call me right back, but then his phone died. Okay. Well; girlfriend won't even come out of her locked room with me here--so I'm fucking leaving. To the bad bar to see if Pool Guy is there; no. TPG's been there, but he left. How is TPG not working till 8, like usual? Just wait. So I head back to Sam's. I've been missing pinball. Got a beer, and had just put in my first 2 quarters on Monster Bash pinball, and TPG shows. It's still well before 8 pm. Eventually he tells me that he's been suspended for 3 days, starting today--so he didn't really have to work today; he's suspended for partying with the new people--because they are his subordinates. Along with his 2 days off already, TPG will now be on a 5 day break. Cool. So then we're playing No Fear pinball, and from outta nowhere...Pool Guy shows! Kick ass! He ALSO didn't go to work today, and WON'T be going to work 2maro (that's 3 of us; no work today, and no work 2maro); so we have the makings of quite a night now. Yes; quite a night. It turns into a golf party; Pool Guy ties me on equal terms; bummer. Then he left; Pool Guy had a date. Nice. He could also be looking for a house up here in north Phoenix again. Good for him. The party goes on; glug and puff. Man. I might feel bad if girlfriend were talking to me; but she's not--so I don't. So I get home by 1 am, and I ate everything. Seems like old times. Crashed hard, and didn't get out of bed until noon
Saturday. Up for coffee, and girlfriend did speak to me, a little. Yay. She asked me if I got fired yet. Hey; at least she's talking to me. Not Fired Yet; another brilliant band name. Basketball on tv. TPG and them stayed up all night last night; partying like a 20 yr. old--who does he think he is; me? Yeah, but he doesn't drink. But we'll all hook back up for the poker fiesta at the bar later. Huh? It's later already? Okay; so I went to the bar, looking for people to take on rides with me; I'm generous. TPG shows early, but he's not playing poker. Pool Guy shows, and he plays poker at my table. I did well in the first game; my best ever. MAM and SLP showed later; we'll do more poker with them at 10. ACE and his woman showed; so I finally got to take somebody for a ride. Wooo. It's a dizzy night at the bar; we've got tons of people here, too. Fun. I win at golf, and it's time for round 2 of poker. I'm talking smack 'coz I'm ripped. And I was the first person off. Boo. Back to golf. And I'm just floating now; glug and puff. Another 6 hours at the bar; no, make that 8. Great. The soap opera continues. So I come home and eat some shit out of tupperware; it was good, whatever it was. And then I'm hitting the bed--hoping to work my final day at the cool current job. Up
at 10 am Sunday, to shower and head out. No problems. God bless the Chasers again. Yeah, so we went to work. Did I work hard? No. Did I stay on the phone? No. But we all got sent home early anyway, so I don't think it really matters. Now I'm home and hungry; girlfriend still feels like shit. And she's watching some fried green chick movie, so I'm not even allowed to sit with her. My bar is closed for Easter, or I'd already be there. It's the thought that counts.

Another Week in Phoenix; This One Ended on 3-6-05

What? Why is this blank? Direct deposit? Oh yeah; that led to an expensive Sunday at the bar. I had a semi-final solo-blowout. Let's not talk of how expensive. Came home at 9 to eat everything. Then I would crash, trying for some world record sleep here. Almost. Sleep got staggered, but there was a good bit of it, and we're up
for a Mountain Dew shirt Monday. Cool. I had a dream that I was at this current job, and oh, it's fuzzy. Talk about a laid back day; I'm not even going to act like I mean to produce today. Last day of the month, and I have my hours--I'm on pause, baby. On pause; I left my lights on at work, or turned them back on--something. Security had to e-mail my old boss and let me know. Right; that was weird. Now I would end up producing 2 outta 3; cool. We had a pizza and wings party; I ate most of it. Sheeit. So I won't workout today either; so what? Post work, I'm heading home to cook ramen for my girlfriend, and join AAA. Not alcoholics; the auto club. Okay. From there, girlfriend came home for dinner and some warped tour tv time. Then we're snuggling, and I start snoring again. How? I slept 12 hours yesterday. Fine. So we're up, and now I'm doing laundry. Girlfriend's in bed, and now it could be tv time. It was. Sunday's Unex, PTI, 2.5 Men was a rerun--those bastards. I haven't eaten anything since the wing-fest at 1 pm today. Well; 3 antacid pills don't count as food. 4--still not food though. Went to bed soon after. Up
for a new team Tuesday; no tie. I was grumpy, too. No reason--just grumpy. O is still employed for now, and still sits near me. It's a whole new swarm of people, and it bores me. Weird times for lunch and breaks; lunch at 9:45 am, break at noon--stupid shit. On the phone I was doing okay, and then I got a nice chunk of $, and wound up leading my new team. Sure. Whatever. Saw a homeless drunk riding a bike with a blue macaw on his shoulder--on the drive home today. And I'm tired again, yeah, all this fucking sleep is killing me. Home to make a yummy zucchini/avacado feast for my girlfriend--she loved it. I got tired as we watched Will and Grace. Decided to skip the bar, and take a nap. 2 hours later I was up for House live, then PTI and Scrubs on tape. Uploaded my new Sidebar, and then I decided to go back to bed. It took hours to get back to sleep, but I didn't care; I just laid there. Maybe I'm sad, but there's no tears; I just laid there. The world has to end soon--I should probably be doing shit that matters, but I just laid there. Maybe it really will all be over soon. There is hope; but I just laid there.
Eventually it would be Wednesday morning. This was a pretty big day--I think. Oh yeah; so the goals were listed for us at work; my goals were higher than I've ever done before. So I pointed out that the goals were a bunch of crap, and flipped off my computer and my new team leader. Maybe not the wisest move ever--but pretty amusing. So then I'm taken off the floor and brought to the department head's office, where I get the short lecture about how shooting birds at supervisors is not a good way to build team unity, or some shit like that. Blah blah. And then they told me how much they liked me. I've heard this story before...at just about every job I've ever worked. Sure. The thing to do next for me would be to go back and have some kind of obnoxiously good day on the sales floor; so I did. I was having lots of strange thoughts about the nature of work and life, and how it's all bullshit anyway. How pissy can one person be? So I had another killer day, and couldn't care much less about it. Fine. I had planned on working out, and then I just walked right by the gym on my way out. I actually wanted to come home and do some license tests on GT2; at least I wanted to do something. What day is it? Wednesday? Maybe there'll be some sex, too, but I'm not expecting it. So I come home and cook some food for dinner. Girlfriend came home; we ate, and then there was some good snuggle. Called my FCP to tell her about my blahs; she cheered me up a little. Then I loaded up for a bar run. Went to the nudey bar to pick up Pool Guy; he had apparently just left. So I go back to my bar--to see if he's there; he's not--and so I party alone. Golf, and then Monster Bash pinball. That 658 million ball 1 led to a total of 834 million--nice. Later on, TPG shows up at the bar with no money. I've asked him this before; how do you go to a bar with no money? And like the good boy that I am, I paid for his soda and a game of his golf. Then he left, and I finished up. Came home and ate a big pile of something, and then chocolate, and then got pissed at GT2 because I was too drunk to do well. Ha; I amuse me. It's bedtime. So I crashed, hard, with more drugs, and set alarms for 9:30. Why? I don't know. So alarms go off
and I snooze button boogied until noon Thursday. I should do laundry today. I should do so many things today. I should care about life today. I should, you know, get the fuck up. But I just laid there. Then I got up and brewed some coffee. Finished all the licenses on GT2; yawn. So I decided to go get some ribs here on my big day off. Called my FCP to get her take on where I should get ribs from. While getting the ribs, I decided to come home (get a free coupon) and go back to Blockbuster to rent Friday Night Lights. I made a mess, and it was fun. Not a bad movie, either; I don't expect much from movies anymore. Watched Will + Grace alone while cooking some new yummy rice for my Static Girlfriend's dinner. She appreciated that. Came up with some comedy ideas that completely bash women--that's always fun. I'm right on the edge of figuring it all out; what if I figure it all out--and it's still just a stupid sack of shit? Seriously; aliens used to give me a reason to keep living; the idea of alternative life-forms that evolved under different circumstances, acquired intelligence, learned to communicate with each other, continued to grow, and eventually went out in search of other life forms. That's some pretty cool shit. I wanted to throw frisbee with aliens--that gave my life purpose. Now...I'm going to go to bed and just lay there. Should I go smoke first? Sure. Oh yeah; a nice big natural cigarette. Look how the humans add in their own vices and bad habits to their routines--that's what humans do. I enjoyed being sprawled out in bed on Vicodin, too. Up
for a Friday at work. Again I would take workout clothes; again I would skip working out. Looking at my semi-hurting right hand, I've got a bruise that bleeds through on both sides (knuckle and palm)--now there's something you don't see everyday. Great. Did okay on the phone; hat trick before lunch. Now that I don't even sit on the rookie side anymore, we (pros) all get better calls and perform better. I guess that's the bonus for remaining employed there for more than 4 months; works for me. I was going to workout, really, but my guts were all swirly from yesterday's ribs I guess. It was an empty gym, it was begging for me, but I just did a walk through and left. Came home and shit. Took a break, then went and shit again. Tried to call my FCP, no go, so I called Athens' "T". She's working at my old Subway. O'Malley's is now Dialamerica; you've got to wonder what that big beautiful Dialamerica building is now--it should be my home/bar/gym/radio station; it's a 4-part building. There're so many people I want to kill; oops. Then girlfriend came home, and we went to drop her car off for some work. Slid back by the cool Sunflower grocery and Blockbuster to get Day After 2maro. Then we came home to eat zucchtaters, snuggle, and watch another 3-hour Lord of the Rings movie. I think I've seen 3 of these 3-hour movies; so there's probably only about 9 of them left. I like my Static Girl, and I love my tv, but I'm still just a little remedial on the whole renaissance, netherworld, knights and dragons shit. Hobbits and dwarfs, barely speaking well enough to be understood? That's great; I'll be underground smoking my little Hobbit pipe, motherfucker. Oh; I'm not complaining--Liv Tyler's a babe, heck she's almost as gorgeous as my girlfriend. It's very watchable, especially sitting next to better-than-Liv, who I've already been naked with. That Hugo guy, from the Matrix movies, keeps getting cameos; and I picture his now Klingon-looking ass saying "Mis-ter An-der-son...", and it makes me giggle. Why can't my incredibly bright girlfriend write a killer medieval knight's dream? Do you see the question that's coming? Let me rev the engine one more time--see if you can figure it out...How hard could it possibly be to write one of these Dick Trickle nightengale fantasies? I gave it away, didn't I? Fuck. It doesn't even have to rhyme, you mushroom. Why don't we take...a week, no...7 good sit-downs of 10 pages or more, and write a story that's better than Exfuckingcaliber? Swordfights and sluts, jousting and jewelry, witches and wizards; people eat this shit up, right? Raid my fucking Tomb already. A corporate Knight's tale. While I'm on this poetic hiatus, anyway. Shit. And I want to do Super Nintendo Zelda again. And I've got to find a compilation with L7's "Pretend We're Dead" (Do I own one?), I've been singing that again. And it's midnight; I stayed home on a Friday night and played nice with my girlfriend. Grumble. "When we pretend that we're dead..." A smoke. Then bed. Up
and clear-headed for work Saturday. I got there, and started with a good voice. Money rained on me, though not as much as for some people. It's okay; I did well. Otis didn't show for work--oh well, have fun flipping tacos, dude. I'm over here having the longest conversations in history--ooo, I will get in so much trouble for this later. Ha. Look at the concern on my face. Product leader, and 3rd in money; you can't touch this. My boss left at 1:30; can she do that? So I decided to leave at 2. Fuck it, man, I'm going to In-N-Out Burger. Yum. Then I'm home, and we're going to Wal-Mart and to get Static Girl's car. We were fun at Wal-Mart. Back home; I called Mom. We're just revving up for what should be a really fun evening of poker at my bar. TPG called; his new girlie interest, not a stripper--back to burger flippers, is supposed to also be at my bar, and a couple of other people--all to help with the communications between said TPG and the new girlie interest. Sure. I'm in; I know what I'M doing tonight; it's just another 3 drug night for me (and MAM, if he shows). I have to test out my golf hand, too. So...it turns out that 1 of the go-between people to help with the communications is "C" from my current job. Huh? I was just at the gym with "C" a week ago (my last trip to the gym, yes, but I was there). C is apparently a manager trainee under TPG now. Okay. C's wife also works with TPG, and so does the new non-stripper girl, too. So it's now a soap opera. I didn't get the full story of why C doesn't work at my job anymore--he just doesn't work there. Never met his wife, but I met the new non-stripper girl, and she's okay. Enough soap opera--let's play some poker. Found MAM; he and C and I all wound up at the same table. I did well. At 8:15 I was not only still playing, but I was actually winning. Wow. Then some crazy girl got a 6-card straight flush that took me and this other guy out of the game. I found MAM walking around the bar in a daze, and we went for a smoker's ride in his probably-not-even-fucking-legal Mustang. I'd never been 110 mph in 2nd gear before; that's pretty exhilarating (also see: shit-in-your-pants scary) I'd never been in a manual shift car that could go over 90 in 2nd gear. At around 100 or 90, coming back down, we hit a pot hole; bottomed out, bounced, groundbreaker, sounded like a fucking gunshot--and my back still hurts on Sunday night from this shit--but we'll get to that. The car now had an obvious rattle; he may have even lost a shock. So we went back and found the bump we hit--that's a pretty big bump. So we limp back to the bar for golf. I played well for a cripple. Getting close to 10pm and round 2 of poker, I asked MAM if he wanted to go for another ride. He said sure. So we go for a 2nd ride...yes, in the broken Mustang. It creaks, it groans, it goes thumpa-thumpa when you make right turns. Ha! This is funny. Back to the bar--oh that's a great idea. So we get a big table for round 2 of poker; but I don't know how long I'll be upright now. In fact, the end is near, baby. It's been fun. I did eat the Chasers earlier, but I have partied beyond any fathom of rationality by this point. I was lucky to be done with poker before I had to deal cards. So now I can concentrate on pinball; except that I can't see fast enough. Seriously; I've been ripped and played good pinball before--I do it all the time. Tonight I couldn't see fast enough. Now YOU think 'oh, I get it--you couldn't respond fast enough'. No. I could respond just fucking fine; what I couldn't do was SEE the (initial fast first shot) shit happen. Shit would happen, and I'd already be reacting to the aftermath of it--bounces later--never actually seeing what I did to start the whole process. It was fascinating, and worthy of study by anybody sober enough to do so. That rules me out. In fact, screw this; I'm fuckin' leavin'--before I have to go do a 3rd ride in a broken Mustang. Giggled all the way home, and then I ate everything. All of it, and then 2 candy bars. I may have also played some GT2; that sounds like me. Finally crashed, alarm set for 10, and we'll see how this plays out. Alarms go off
at 10 Sunday morning. Ouch. But I got up, slowly, showered, and went to work. 10 minutes late, yes, but there is good news. From our new team, only 3 of the 7 people supposed to be there showed up. So I'm on the good end of the bottom line there. And today is the start of a new computer system--one that we have barely been informed about. So they're launching a whole new way to do our job...on a Sunday...with hardly any supervisors...and the few of us who did show up were all hungover. This is fun. My other link to the bar soap opera last night, "S", is also at work today. So I tell him the stories. We decided that today will be an easy day without much effort--we may even go to McD's later for lunch. Sure. Then we got moved to an area that had at least 1 supervisor; that's good. Eventually we would take some calls, get some $, and do okay. For our 15 minute break we spent an hour at McD's; TPG and C were both there--because half of their crew didn't show up for work either. Now the soap circle is complete. Back to work for us, and they were just happy we came back. There may be punishment later, but not today. And we made it till 5 pm, somehow. Then I left to come home. Logic was not in focus, apparently, because I went back to the bar. Why would I do this? They'll throw me out at 10. Sure. So I went back and had more fun, more rides, more golf. Home at 10, and GT2-ing. Bed by midnight, maybe, and then I'm hoping to wake up on Monday.

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