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 16, 2016
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.
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.
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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