Some good news

And I was convinced that he pulled his K Car with one blue door up to the first side of the pump and filled his tank — the moment I left.  I just KNEW there would be two charges to my bank card, but there was only one.  So… I don’t want to jinx myself, but I think that whole horrible ordeal has turned out to be a bullet-dodged.  Never again!

A few of you suggested I download the GasBuddy app to my phone, and I did.  Last night I checked it, and that shitty dump is the second closest gas station to my job.  And someone told me the closest place closes at 11, so I guess I was led to the right spot.  I will make sure my heft never again darkens the door of that weird little homicide, scratch-offs, and coffee emporium.  I haven’t felt so vulnerable since I left Atlanta.  Shit.

Wednesdays are tough on me, because I have to be at work an hour early for a meeting.  So, this is going to have to do for now.  And I’m going to have to rely on you guys to rescue me…

In the comments section, please tell us your stories about running out of gas.  I used to do it a lot when I was in my 20s, but my nerves can’t handle it anymore.  Do you have any good runnin’ on empty tales?  Please bring us up to date.

Also, have you ever discovered any dodgy charges on your credit card account, or bank card, or whatever?

A few years ago I went to the local Waffle House and paid with my bank card, and it was charged two or three additional times — for various small amounts — over the next week.  I think one of the employees was paying for meals with it — for them or a friend.  I started raising hell and threatening to call the cops, and it stopped happening.  Bastards.

So, there ya go.  This is slightly better than no update, right?  …Hello?

I’ll be back tomorrow.  I’m off on Thursday, so there should be no disgraceful half-assery.

See ya then!

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So, my alarm

Reciting a litany of curse words, and shuffling toward the bathroom, I realized I needed to take a seat in there.  It felt like I was about to pass a head of lettuce, or something of that approximate size and weight.  Yeah, and it turned out to be more along the lines of a head of cabbage — much less forgiving than lettuce.

While I was atop the throne, I heard Toney come in.  She was checking on me, because she’d sent four or five texts and called twice, and I hadn’t answered.

“Are you just now getting up?” she hollered up the steps and through the shitter door.

“Yeah.  I’ll be down in a second… unh.”

“I thought you’d had a heart attack, and didn’t want the boys to find you,” she answered.

Fully-dilated, I sat and contemplated that statement.  She didn’t want the boys to find me, but didn’t seem too upset beyond that.  Then I imagined her thinking the following:

“It wouldn’t be ideal if he died in his sleep, but it sure would take care of our financial worries.  He’s insured out the ass…”

That statement happened inside my head, and not in reality, but it still irritated me.  And when I went downstairs I said, in a sarcastic tone, “Sorry, I didn’t die.  I apologize for still breathing ‘n’ shit.”

And Toney just looked at me in confusion.

That’s how my day started, just a few minutes ago.  And I can’t believe I actually began this update with the word “so.”  What’s happening to me??  I hate when people start sentences with “so.”

Anyway, this day started bad, and yesterday ended kinda bad, as well.  Well, it could’ve been worse, but it was high stress.

I drove to work, and when I pulled into the parking lot I realized my gas light was on.  I hadn’t even noticed it, while driving.  My mind was racing during yesterday’s commute, and I’d been on auto-pilot, fully and completely.

I work in the middle of nowhere, and there are no gas stations nearby.  I knew about one, maybe two miles away, and told myself I’d go there on my break and buy $25 worth of fuel — and avoid that 1:30 white-knuckle ride to Wilkes-Barre, hoping the engine doesn’t sputter and stop.

But I completely forgot about it, and when I got in my car at 1:45, that gas pump light was shinin’ bright.  Dammit!  I watched the needle, and it was even with the E line, which wasn’t good.  If it had been slightly above it, I would have felt confident making the Wilkes-Barre run.

I decided to go out of my way, to that station a couple of miles down the road.  And when I got there… it was all dark and closed-up.  Fantastic.  Now the needle seemed to be slightly BELOW the E line.  And I had no idea where an open gas station might be.  It was now almost 2:00 a.m.

I was stressing, and starting to panic.  I returned to my job, and there were a few people standing in the parking lot shooting the shit.  I asked if they knew of an open gas station, and they started in with all the complicated local talk:

“You know where Prolapse Road crosses the Harold Hecuba Highway, over near the old salad factory?”

What?!  No, I don’t, and can’t really afford to be driving around looking for things.  And, thankfully, a woman told me to follow her, and she’d lead me to an open gas station, just “four minutes” from there.

We made roughly two dozen turns, and were in some neighborhood I’d never seen.  I have no idea what town we were in, but it wasn’t good.  It screamed “death by misadventure.”  And the entire time I was convinced my engine was about to say fukkit.

We finally pulled into a shitty dump of a convenience store.  But it appeared to sell gas, and also be open for business.  Whew!

Then the pump wouldn’t work.  The display window was totally black, and I couldn’t get it to do anything.  I went inside and the dude was not an ally.  He clearly hated me on first sight, and accused me of doing something wrong.  It wasn’t the pump’s fault, it was something I’d done.

While we stood there discussing it, another customer came through the door, and the cashier greeted him warmly.  What the?

Finally, I was told to pull my car around, and use the other side of the pump.  So, I went outside and started to do as I was told.  And while I was maneuvering, two guys in a white Z28 backed — at a high rate of speed — across the parking lot, and stopped in front of the pump.  Then they went inside and bought chips and stuff.

Both were dressed like Eminem, circa 2000, and were just DARING me to say something to them.  I sat there blinking real fast, my blood pressure going up and down, up and down.  They’d blocked the only gas pump, on purpose, and gone into the store.  What kind of town is this??

Eventually they returned with their snacks, sneered at me, and drove away.  And I was able to buy gas, and get the hell out of that shithole.  Good god.

And this is another 20 minute special.  Hopefully it’s not too horrible.  I’ll be back tomorrow, I hope, with something a little more normal.

See ya then!

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Wanna

I nearly did a spit-take. Mechanically inclined?!  I had NEVER heard those words used before, in association with my dumb ass.  I mean, I’m the person who always asks the AutoZone guy to install my new windshield wipers after I buy them.  One time the manager had his 16 year old daughter go out and put them on for me.  It wasn’t one of my prouder moments…

But I was asked to help out with a calibration project at my job, and it’s fairly technical.  After hollering, “Me??” I accepted, because it will translate into some hefty overtime.  But I had my doubts.  I was certain I’d do something wrong and completely ruin a $5 million piece of equipment, or cause an explosion, or something.

Each machine acts differently, and there are a thousand (possibly even a hundred) things that can be diagnosed and adjusted.  Optics, and light curtains, and God only knows… You just have to watch the way it behaves, and tweak accordingly.  And for whatever reason… I’m kinda good at it.  By the second day I was one calibrating son of a bitch.

I told Toney about this when I got home.  And after she stopped laughing at the “mechanically inclined” comment, and wiped away some tears with the back of her hand, she said, “Well, it’s not intelligence or ability that you lack, it’s give-a-shit.”

“Hey, that’s exactly what my Junior High guidance counselor used to tell me!” I answered.  Then I had a beer, adjusted my scrotum for comfort, and fell asleep on the couch — at 7:45 pm.  I was all calibrated-out.

I worked last night, and didn’t see one minute of the Super Bowl. What were the highlights?  Did I miss anything exciting?  And by exciting, I mean the commercials… Any thoughts?  Please tell us about it in the comments.

And how was Madonna?  Was it just a bunch of dancing amongst shirtless, waxed gay men, while wearing a debt collector headset and Broadway costumes?  Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Next year I think they should have X play the halftime show.  They’d have that place whipped into a frenzy, and the two teams would probably score 60 points each in the second half.  Heh.

Who would you like to see play the Super Bowl halftime show? Motorhead? GWAR? The Butthole Surfers? What do you think would be a good choice? Too bad the Cramps aren’t still around…

And I think today’s Further Evidence link deserves some added attention. Check it out.  All four of us saw this on TV yesterday, and were HOWLING with laughter.  The guy with the laptop killed me.  I’d love to get your opinions on this fancy, high-tech device.  Great stuff.

And hopefully things will be back to normal for a while, and there won’t be giant gaps between updates.  Thanks for your patience.

I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.

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I’m not very happy

Yeah, I know… I can pull up a calendar on my computer screen, or on my phone, etc.  “What is this, 1958?” and all that stuff.  But I’m in the habit of turning my head to the right, on a regular basis, and consulting my wall calendar.  What of it?

I think I’m going to have to ditch this Coke bullshit.  My whole calendar world has been thrown into a state of crisis…  This might sound crazy to you, but this will very likely turn into a full-blown night-and-day obsession until I find an acceptable replacement.  Oh, I’ve been here before…

Are you happy with your 2012 calendar choice?  Do you put any thought into it, or just tack up whatever crap your State Farm guy sends you?  I agonize over it, every year, and totally screwed it up this time.  I should be a pro by now!  Grrr…

I’m working a lot of weird hours, so the site updates are probably going to be sporadic for a while.  I apologize, but it’s — as they say — beyond my control.  In fact, a lot of things are beyond my control at this point.  It’s triggering the good ol’ anxiety dream where I have to take some kind of super-important test in college, and haven’t been to class in weeks.  I’ve been having that dream for thirty years.

I used to dream about being able to move around by floating, just an inch or two off the ground.  But apparently that one’s been burned-out by real life.  I haven’t dream-floated in a decade.  I miss it.

So, anyway…  I’ll do my best here, but it’s a challenge.  Thursday, for instance, is almost certainly going to be another update-free day.  Sorry.  But I’m confident sanity will soon return.  No evidence of that, mind you… just confidence.

I mentioned this on Twitter yesterday:  what’s the story with half the world suddenly taking bee pollen capsules?  I’ve never heard of such a thing, until two months ago.  And now it seems like everybody’s ingesting the pollen.

What do you guys know about this?  I could do some research, but don’t need a freakin’ totem pole of medical data.  Can someone just give me a simple summary of the supposed benefits of bee pollen?  I always ask, but get contradictory answers.  I think they’re hiding something…  Can you folks help me out?

I always hear George Noory talking about herbal supplements, and it sounds interesting.  But I’m convinced they’re dangerous, and would cause my aorta to detach or turn to dust.  Is that irrational?

Last night someone told me my ears are purple.  What the??  I checked it out in the mirror, and they don’t look purple to me.  They’re just, you know, regular ear-colored.  But now I’m paranoid…  Is there some kind of blood-flow problem?  Is it a sign of impending aortal detachment?  At the very least… have I become some kind of walking, talking purple-eared freak??

I don’t care for any of it.  I think she was just messing with me.  At least I hope so.  Good god, between the calendar and this fresh weirdness… I’m a mess.

And I need to call it a day, my friends.  I’m expected to attend a meeting forty miles from here, in about an hour, so I’d better stop right here.  If you have anything to say about bee pollen, herbal supplements, anxiety dreams, purple ears, or 2012 calendars, please use the comments section below.

Have a great day!  See ya soon.

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While I was in the shower

Ha.  I’m joking, of course…  Just in case Big Brother is watching.

I hope you guys had a great weekend.  Mine was disjointed, but not bad at all.  I worked on Friday, but they didn’t need me on Saturday.  So, I got a little downtime, which was nice.  I’m a big fan of the downtime, even though I always fill it with chaos.

On Sunday I decided I needed to change my Twitter profile picture, and went to Fiverr and hired two people to do something creative with a photo of my tiny Duke head.  And I don’t want to criticize anyone… but the first one was pretty close to awful.  It makes me look like a zombie, on the prowl for brains.

But I really like the second one, and it’s live at Twitter now.  It cost me five bucks (OK, ten — counting the rejected photo), which is a heck of a deal.  I’ve done a lot of business at fiverr.com.  There are some fun, and useful things there.  Including this.

On Saturday night Toney and I watched The Descendants.  I had no idea what to expect, but ended up enjoying it.  The premise is fairly depressing, but the film itself was no bummer.  At least I didn’t think so.  Have you seen it?  What did you think?

And on Saturday afternoon we bought two pizzas from a new shop in town.  Opening a pizza joint in the Upper Perogie Belt is a risky endeavor, since the place is already lousy with pizza joints.  Indeed, this particular location has seen multiple shops open and close over the past few years.  Probably taking a few folks’ life savings with it…

But I think the new one is going to make it.  ‘Cause their pizza is damn good, and also cheap.  Between 11 and 2, every day of the week, large cheese pies are just five bucks each (they should advertise on Fiverr!).  Toppings are a dollar each, and the whole fambly had a good lunch for eleven bucks.

And that’s the recipe for success, at this point in our history.  Cheap, but good.  Either of those things are OK by themselves, but they work best together.  Ya know?

The only downside?  When I called in the order, the guy who answered the phone was snorting and snorkeling snot the whole time.  That doesn’t give me a warm and fuzzy feeling…  Is this the dude who will be making my pizza?  Ol’ Mucus Fingers?? But, so far, so good.  It’s been two days and I haven’t come down with a cold yet.  Maybe the heat of the pizza oven neutralizes snot spores? <Full-body shiver>

What’s your favorite “cheap, but good” restaurant?  When we lived in Atlanta we were surrounded by them:  Fellini’s Pizza, Tortilla’s, EATS…  Atlanta, in those days anyway, was the cheap, but good capital of the world.  Do you frequent any such places?  Please tell us about it in the comments.

And I wrote this update in roughly twenty minutes.  I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise.  But, at least we got that No Politics thing off the top of the page.  I’m very proud of that accomplishment.

Have a great day!

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