Thursday, September 29, 2016

B365V3.53 - Smithfield Mystery Theater

     I needed the absurdity of today, or at least the absurdity my mind created out of it.   First, I overslept, but Brian had told me the other day he wasn't coming in on Wednesday or Thursday, so all is good I figure, I get things done faster without him so I will still be in good shape the rest of the day.  Except when I get there Brian is in the office, still he didn't slow me up too much.

     The absurdity hit right when I went out for my first cigarette of the day, as laying there on the sidewalk was a gummy penis.  Yes we have photographic evidence as seen here

     While the product is odd in and of itself, it isn't surprising, given we are located underneath a porn shop and they do have some odd items up there, like candy cock rings, so bags of gummy penises (scientific plural, penii or penae?) are not beyond the realm of possibility.  My mind went to that place though where as soon as they got out of the porn shop someone had to think they had to get some gummy penis in their mouth.  No waiting on this delicacy apparently.   But they were clumsy with their new found edible genitalia, as now on the sidewalk beside my feet was a candy cock.  This instantly got filed in my brain as blog worthy, after all it isn't everyday you see a gummy penis.  Not that they are as rare as bald eagles mind you, but I have seen a bald eagle before, gummy penae, not so much.

      A little later I went back outside to check on the gummy penis, because it was raining and I thought it might have washed away, but just like a kid who frets over a caterpillar I needn't have worried, the gummy penis was still there.  I even pointed out to a coworker who didn't believe it was out there.  Having delivered the shock and awe to my coworker, I finished my cigarette and went back inside, safe in the knowledge nothing would happen to the gummy penis for the rest of the day.  I went back to the office and finished my paperwork and got the deposits ready for the bank.
      I collect everything and get ready to go to the bank.  I step outside and look and the gummy penis is gone.  "The Case of the Missing Penis" as I labeled it.  I looked around in case someone may have kicked it down the sidewalk, or knocked it into the street.  If I would have had crime scene tape I would have roped off the area but I left my crime scene tape at home.  I would have sucked at being a boy scout, I am never prepared.  I wasn't prepared to see a gummy penis today and I wasn't prepared for the gummy penis to disappear like a valuable piece of artwork either.  Sucks to be me I guess.

     But I can't have a crime without a culprit can I?  But since I had no clues and no suspects for that matter, I am just going to go ahead and blame this on Fucking Chicken Lady, because the only thing that would make today more complete than it already was is the image of her standing outside screaming into her phone, "You said you were going to get my gummy penae? Where's my fucking penae?"

Friday, September 23, 2016

B365V3.52 The week that was

I guess I should call this a pretty good week, certainly in fitting with the #itsmyyear hashtag thing I have going on in 2016.  The first bit of good news, albeit bad news that begat good news, was that i got to have lunch with my friend Debbie on Sunday.  The reason for this was the bad news portion of things, her mom was in the ICU at Presby after having a stroke.   I received a message from her around 6:15am on Sunday asking where there is good coffee in Oakland at that hour.  All I could think of that early was McDonald's a place that i do not care to eat at much any more, but their coffee is still better than Starbucks.  Technically I could have said the gas station at the end of my street, but I don't  even get coffee there very often anymore.  ever since Sixx left a few months back, there is just little there to get my heart all pitter pattery.  She said her mom was going in for a CAT scan,we could grab coffee when it was done.  I shot her a message around 11am, they hadn't even done the scan yet, more of that hurry up and wait nonsense hospitals are so good at.  I swear, after retiring from hospital work, those people should go look into a career at the post office.  Another profession which can be timed with a sundial.

I laid around the apartment until around 1pm,then shot a message that I was going to get a coffee and be out for a bit.  I was out and about for maybe 20 minute, just drinking a coffee and walking  when I got a message back to the possibility of grabbing lunch instead.  that was fine, I was half done with my coffee by that point anyway.  So I picked Stack'd or lunch, a relatively newish burger place in Oakland that has really good burgers (take that you frauds at Five Guys).  we each got a burger, I got a double with grilled green pepper and onion, lettuce and tomato with ghost pepper cheese and mustard and an appetizer of macaroni and cheese bites with spicy ranch dipping sauce (sooooo good) and we yammered on as people who have known each other for three decades are prone to do.  I tried to keep my pointless yammering to a minimum and do more of the listening thing since I don't really have compelling issues in my life at this point, certainly no one in the hospital.We spent about an hour together, then I walked her back to Presby where her mom was in the ICU, so no non family members allowed.  Instead we parted company and I walked back down to CVS were I bought some snackage for the evening and a couple of lottery tickets, one of which hit for $100, so go me and all that jazz.  Turns out that would not be the only one this week, I got another $100 winner while working the second half of a double on Monday night and yet another $100 winner at work on Wednesday.  So go me, times three.

Tuesday was payday, which was also nice because I had a couple of extra bucks in my paycheck after working 13 of the 14 days in the pay period and a double amongst those days.  It felt nice to not rob Peter to pay Paul on rent for October, so I cleared that off of my docket a couple of weeks early and paid my phone bill and still had money for a night of drunken boring debauchery (see me debauch some time, it is quite boring).  Usually it consists of me, Yuengling, Fireball whiskey shots and is followed up by eating drunken gyros (me being the drunken, not the gyros).

The fantasy football stuff continues to go well, I am now 2-0 in both leagues i am in, so there is that going for me as well.  On top of all of that goodness, I got my two Amazon orders in this week, I bought a new wireless router and my Verizon model kept dropping out on the wireless portion of the job, forcing me to restart it a number of times a day.  I got me a TP Link modem instead and so far it is working just fine, as I have just enough of a modicum of a skill set to set it up and have it function properly.  I also had to buy a new toaster and mine mysteriously fell off my microwave table the other day and while I was out buying things I also got the newest Spenser book, of which I am about 50 or so pages into.

Finally this week I was at work the other day when I got a message from my friend Hope on Facebook.  Those of you who have been around the blog for more than a minute know that Hope's name has popped up occasionally, I would say almost always in a good fashion.  The most recent blogging occurrence was about two years ago, when I told the story of our trip to the ballet, where I got all fuddy duddied up (meaning I rented a tux) without her knowing but when I went to meet her there was just no comparison, she blew me and my cool threads away.  Well as luck would have it, Hope's message to me was actual photos from that night (her mom took pics, this was back in the days before digital photography kids).  Anyway, apparently Hope was going through some things and sent me pictures from that night.  I found out that I was not suffering from Alzheimers, she really did look way better than I did.  Don't believe me, have a look for yourself, her and I from about 25 years ago.

And that kids is a wrap, no more old photos or storytelling tonight, I have to work in the morning.

Friday, September 16, 2016

B365V3.51 - American History X

This should have been a good day.  Or week for that matter.  I won in both of my fantasy football leagues, just about done with a stretch of working 20 straight days (as of today 19 down, one to go) and yet here I stand, infused with a level of frustration that is approaching anger.  Go ahead, stick my arm in the blood pressure machine today, I am sure to get the high score right about now. As I type, I am waiting on a bus to go in a homeward direction, a bus that is now 45 minutes late.
Why you say is the bus 45 minutes late?  I think it has something to do with the fact that we managed to catch a bridge on fire a couple of weeks ago.  Not one of those old covered wooden bridges either, rather a steel and concrete structure type job.  And a repair that was supposed to take a couple of days is now working on week #3 with no timetable as to when they will actually go about fixing their fuck up.

What do you know, I bitch for a couple of paragraphs and a bus shows up, of course it is a bus with three busloads of people on it, as it is carrying passengers that have been waiting to be picked up since 4:15 and a bus arrived at 5:15, meaning he has the passengers for his route and the routes at 4:15 and 4:45.

Competence, thy name is not Pittsburgh.

It is not like the day started off great to begin with.  I had a strange dream (nothing unusual there) involving someone I used to go to school with back in the days of papyrus and shit.  Except I was pursuing him with a bunch of others in a car chase because this person abducted a little boy.  Not sure what his intentions were with the kid, just that the overall belief was that they were not noble in nature.  The car chase was taking place along all of these old back roads from back in my hometowny region.  That was until we came upon a bridge and the bridge wasnt there.  I temember thinking, this is my dream, surely my mind can manifest a bridge to cross, except that bridge was not forthcoming.  I remember seeing somewhere once that it is within one's ability to control their dreams, in as much as they can conjure up things they need inside the dreamscape.  Personally I have never gathered that level of control over my dreams, last nite was another time where I thought I could but couldn't.  The bad guy,as it were, got away.

I dont remember where I saw that one can control their dreams, I may have read it in a magazine or seen it on TV.  If I saw it on TV, I sure hope I didn't see it on the History Channel.  What a shit show that network has become.  Why sitting at the Squirrel Cage the other day (which is where I happen to be as I type this thing now, hoping to create a temporal loop to fuck with the execs at the History Channel) a show came on called American Pickers.  The basic premise appears to be a couple of guys ride around and buy some people's shit because they are then going to resell that shit for more money to someone else.  Not sure what being the middle man in a shit sandwich has to do with history, but there you go.  I suppose in the most literal sense, if these guys did go buy this junk and then sold it to someone else, it is history because it did happen, but if we are going to mention such infinitesimal moments in history for television, perhaps I can get a TV deal for the times I went home and jerked one off to internet porn.

Not that the commercials on the channel were any better, a promo for a 10 part series called Doomsday.  Some of the doomsday scenarios they will be looking into; alien invasion and a collision between planets.  Of course we had a promo for that History channel staple, Ice Road Truckers season 10 for those of you counting.  More shit that has nothing to do with history.  They should be called the We Just Throw Shit on the Screen channel.  Its like Fox News and The Weekly World News fucked and had a kid.  But as long as that shit is passed off as history, PBS will never have to worry about losing it funding.

I did learn something today, jagoff is now in the Oxford English dictionary.  This brings out a certain amount of regional pride in the locals, hey look, a word we used is now considered actual English.  All I think is why can't we just fucking swear like normal people.

Well, time to head home and think about posting this from the brand new ye olde laptop.  So, to steal from the great Greek philosophers, Seacrest out.

Friday, September 9, 2016

B365V3.50 - Work now, serenity later

     So everyone, say hi to my new laptop.  It just came via Amazon today, and a big kudos to the fine Amazon folks, I took the free shipping option and my laptop still arrived in two days.  Who needs Prime anyway?
     I got my laptop a little bit earlier today than most folks normally would have, simply because I had it shipped to work, where I basically live anyway, you are more likely to catch me there than in my own apartment.  So I did the initial setup things while doing paperwork at my desk, then decided to take it for a spin by stopping at the Squirrel Cage for dinner tonight.  Had a couple of issues getting the new toy to recognize the Jetpack when I first got here, bit all seems to be good now. 
     I wasn't kidding about the work thing I am usually there 6 days a week, tomorrow I have a truck coming in with three different orders on it.  I would have asked Sammy to help out (and to see if he wanted to pick up a few extra hours) but the last two times I asked him he did even bother replying and he is in one of his pouty fit phases where he doesn't talk to anyone.   Probably because I made it aware to Brian that other people were doing Sammy's job for him, I was putting away trucks, others were stocking the coolers and Brian said some words to him, and that is all it takes for Sammy to get pouty.  personally I don't give a shit, put on your big boy pants and do your job.
     That leads me to our most recent useless hire, Alex.  Bad enough the kid says he can only work Tuesday and Thursday nights because he has classes.  Brian only had him on the schedule for one day this week, one too many if you ask me, so he let him pick up a few hours on Thursday when we really didn't need him and then asked if he could work Sunday.  It would seem to make sense, no one has class on Sunday, Alex lives in an apartment right across the street from the store.  So Bria asks him if he can work 3pm-11pm Sunday night.  The answer he gets back is "Can I start at 4pm?"  Excuse me motherfucker, you live across the street and I am not rearranging how the store runs to accommodate your whims.  I told Brian, fuck it, I will just work it.  I am tired of employees who think we owe them something.   We are granting you an opportunity to make money, you don't want it, stop wasting our time.  I've got too many employees who have been there much longer who do not get weekends off, myself included.  I am not about to coddle someone who can only work two days a week, I'd rather give those hours to someone who wants to work.
     Yes I am having a bitter moment, because now that means I work Sunday and it will be at least 20 days in a row before I see a day off.  Just need to keep reminding myself this is all for Vancouver.  Just keep drilling it into my brain, Vancouver, Vancouver, Vancouver.  Because I know that place is worth the aggravation I am going through now.

Friday, September 2, 2016

B365V3.49 - Carl Douglas dreams

So this is the evening of my second fantasy football draft.  I fucked up the first one, I thought it was at 8:30 Sunday evening, it was at 6:30 instead, so the system had to auto draft for me.  I guess it came up with an okay team, though I will be honest, fantasy football is turning into one of those things that I just don't care much about anymore.  I think the breaking point for me was the Ray Rice incident.  We all had an inkling of what happened, even before the elevator video.  Then the commissioner basically stuck his head in the sand, as if ignorance could be bliss in this instance, then proceeded to go on a bunch of witch hunts throughout the league to show how tough he is, and instituting rule changes just to prop up the illusion he was doing something.  Football for me has just about crossed the line wrestling did a few years back when Chris Benoit murdered his entire family and the WWE did a night dedicated to Chris without knowing the facts of the case, so they ended up spending a night praising a murderer. 

Perhaps I miss my old league with the guys from Uncle Jimmy's as well.  That league was for money (neither of my current leagues play for cash) and we had our assortment of fantasy football league stereotypes in it, the guy who was in because everyone else was, even if it was unclear what he was doing; the guy who would bitch the league entry fee was too low, we should be playing for more money, then when he would lose a game, would bitch about the rules and everything else.  This was usually met with abject pussy references from the other league members (what a pussy?, adjust your tampon, must be his time of the month, etc.).  Its politically incorrect shit, but it is a bunch of guys talking amongst a bunch of guys.  Then there were the guys who would complain about no trades being made through the course of the season, but they offer nothing and expect everything.  It the fantasy lingo, someone who trades away talent and gets nothing in return has been trade raped.  There were others who would make a deal just to say they made one, and still others whom you couldn't carry on a conversation with without it coming back to their fantasy team.  It was all consuming for them.   I like my team and all, but it isn't the only thing going on in my life. 

In that regard it was like my friend Jim, we used to meet up on Sundays and play Dungeons & Dragons.  It was a cool bunch of people, every Sunday we would play for a few hours.  If my girlfriend at the time was playing with us, we would be sure to see she was killed first so we could enjoy the rest of our afternoon.  But every time I would see Jim during the course of the week, he would start talking D&D strategy for the following Sunday.  It became all consuming. 

What do you know, my bitching and moaning got me up to draft time, then with 14 teams the draft took a while and now I am back.  Not really enamored with my team, but then I put no effort into it, unlike back in the day when I would have had two draft guides and charted who I wanted.  I would have scoured the internet, wrote a couple of blog posts about who I did like and who I didn't.  Nowadays I don't like anyone, so that problem is solved.  I did get some pre draft good news though, I am getting my Valentine's Day present, a pair of tickets to see the Pens and Canucks.  Now I just have to go finding someone I can tolerate for an evening, besides myself.

I should be going to bed, I volunteered for a double at work tomorrow, but recently I have been having vivid dreams that I remember as soon as I wake up (because I sleep for like an hour at a time, I am a horrible bed mate) but then I look at the clock and go back to sleep again and forget about the dream and have another one, wake up again and repeat the process.  It is like channel flipping in my brain.  I should get a dream book an write this stuff down as it happens (plenty of semi decent blog material in there) but a dream book sounds too much like work and I work enough as it is.

Prime example, the other night I went to bed around 4am, woke up at 5am from a dream.  In the dream I was sitting in a bar.Because it was a dream, it started taking o the aspects of real life, I looked around the bar for a poker machine to kill some time and couldn't find one, so I went up to the bar and ordered a Yuengling.  The bartender for some reason brought me a full rocks glass of Jameson's, which is good enough in my book.  So I am sitting there nursing my drink, the bartender gives out last call so I am making my way to the exit.  Right at the door is a girl sitting on a barstool, I assume it was the bouncer's perch most of the time, but she is sitting there instead.  people are walking out of the bar, the door is propped part way open and I decide I will make some small talk.  Mind you, even in my dreams I am defeatist, I figure nothing will come of this, no exchange of numbers or anything of the like, to which I am not disappointed.  She is just sitting there and I am standing there and we are talking when all of a sudden, two guys cut between us, one gets betwen me and her, the other knocks her off of her barstool.  the door flies open and she falls, I see at this point there is a set of steps leading up to the door.  She had fallen in such a manner that she landed beside the steps onto what I would have assumed was the sidewalk.  I go outside to see if she is okay and the street isn't a street, rather a series of concrete landings with more steps between them.  She hadn't fallen onto the sidewalk, but rather onto one of the landings, rolled down another flight of steps and was laying on the second landing down.   Chivalry isn't dead in my dreams, I went to see if she was okay, I see her standing now, she is being pinned against the wall by the same guy who knocked her off the barstool.  As I am going to see if she is okay, the other guy gets between me and the steps down to the next landing and is mouthing some type of warning to not go down there if I know what's good for me.  I proceed to kick him in the chest (everybody was kung fu fighting, those kicks were fast as lightning) and knock him down the flight of steps to the next landing and then I wake up.  Perhaps my mind was bored with this story at that point, much as you the reader probably are, and wanted to change the channel, I woke up, puttered around the apartment for a minute, then went back to sleep to dream again.

Oh well, like I said, I double in the morning (,ore vacation money, yay!) so I had better call it a night.

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