It’s a beautiful day here in the Upper Exasperation Belt. Possibly the most perfect day of 2017, so far. And I’m sitting in the public library typing out this update. There’s an old man running the microfilm machine behind me, as usual, cranking the wheel on that bastard like he’s trying to generate enough electricity to power his dying wife’s lung blower. What’s the story with old men and ancient newspapers? It’s never the same old man, but there’s almost always one in here, cranking away. Do they even stop to look at a page? All of it’s excruciatingly unclear to me.
Anyway, if this were last spring and it were the First Perfect Day, you can be assured that I’d be on the deck right now drinking an unreasonable number of craft beers, and ingesting charred meat, tortilla chips, and various dip-ables. But today I’m sitting in the library breathing in the aroma of paper decay, and getting irritated by all the noise. I’m not going to get into it again, though. Just put it in the ever-lengthening column titled People Certainly Do Suck, Oh Yes They Do. Sweet sainted mother of Bruce Froemming.
Speaking of drinking, I had a dream a few nights ago that I said fukkit and had a few beers on a Saturday night. And I experienced crushing guilt, deep into the night. It felt like I beat myself up, emotionally, for about eight hours. When I woke up I realized it was only a dream, and about a million pounds of anxiety was released.
I’m not sure why I dreamed about it, because I don’t really think about drinking much anymore. It’s not like I’m white-knuckling it, crawling out of my skin. So, it was weird. I guess it’s still in there somewhere, lurking underneath the surface. Right?
The good points of nine months of raw sobriety: My mind is sharper, I sleep better, I read an enormous number of books, and I feel healthier.
The bad points: I’m mildly depressed and lethargic most of the time.
So, there you go. It’s like a joke of some sort. I somehow had more energy when I was guzzling booze every weekend, but my brain was sluggish. Now my brain is clicking along, but I don’t have the energy or gumption to make anything of it. When is Allen Funt going to come out from behind a pillar, buckled over in laughter?
Let’s move on.
Some things I’ve enjoyed recently: an oddball podcast called S-Town, a crazy-ass novel called Dark Matter, season four of Maron, and the return of The Americans. I also re-read Steve Martin’s memoir, Born Standing Up. I don’t usually re-read books, because there are so many I haven’t gotten to the first time. But I make an occasional exception to the rule.
What have you been enjoying? Anything? Please share in the comments.
I was talking to a friend a few days ago, and mentioned that my dad has certain opinions about manliness that I find myself considering, even at my advanced age.
For instance, he believes men should never drink with a straw. He used to call them “sissy sticks” when I was a kid. I sometimes use a straw in restaurants, because I’m neurotic about the millions of lips that have been on the rims of those glasses before my arrival. But I always feel weird about it, like I’m betraying my father.
He also believes men should not use umbrellas, which makes me laugh. Not that I disagree with him, necessarily. I just find it amusing. He probably had a jaunty nickname for them, as well. But I’m not remembering it. And I don’t currently own an umbrella.
I can also remember him telling me not to stand with my hands on my hips, because he said it “looks fruity.”
The guy I was talking with couldn’t believe it, because his dad had some of the exact same opinions. He wasn’t familiar with the phrase “sissy stick,” but his dad did have corresponding views about straws and umbrellas. Do you have anything on this? Any quirky little manliness rules passed down from a previous generation that’s stuck with you? I know it’s a long-shot, but what the hell?
One final thing, before I call it a day here… I had the following conversation with our younger son earlier this week:
Me: How was school today?
Him: Good.
Me: Did you learn anything?
Him: No.
Me: Why not?
Him: I’m in 12th Grade.
That made me chuckle, even though it’s somewhat baffling. But I wondered: Did I learn anything during my senior year of high school? And I think I did. Because I’m a sack, I always loaded up my schedule with fluff “classes.” Things like Office Aide, Rock/Pop Music Survey, Singles Survival, and (a class I had in 12th Grade) Consumer Math.
I’d already gone through Algebra II, Geometry, and maybe beyond. Who the hell knows? But I actually learned stuff in that Consumer Math class that I still use today. Everybody in there was tragically stupid, a hardened stoner, or both. So, this shit was dumbed way down. I mean, seriously. However, I learned easy methods on how to calculate percentages that I hadn’t previously grasped. I mean, I could do it, but it took a little while. After I finished that Consumer Math class though, I could do it instantly in my head. It’s a small thing, but it’s something I literally came to terms with in that room, surrounded by criminals, drug addicts, and people who just sat there sniffing their fingers.
What about you? Did you actually learn anything during 12th Grade? Please tell us about it.
And I’m going to leave this annoying place now. Maybe get a McDonald’s milkshake. Ahhh… the good life.
I’ll see you guys again soon.
Have a great day!
Now playing in the bunker
Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!
I have been enjoying Alpha House (very funny) on Amazon/Netflix (can’t tell the difference anymore), and I am on season 3 of Hung, which is also really good. Raunchy and realistic.
Watched Manchester by the Sea and was blown away. Maybe a bit too close to home in terms of dysfunctionality, but very well scripted and well acted – this move earned its Oscars.
Can’t say the same for 20th Century Women, which came highly recommended from many sources. Contrived, slow, and had almost no point at the end.
I don’t regularly use straws when I’m in the restaurant drinking from a cup. But I will use one if I get a to-go drink with a lid so I can walk or drive and drink my drink. Those soft drinks cost enough so I always get a to-go cup no matter what. Most places give them away willingly but sometimes I get a look like I’m ripping them off or something. Really? You just charged me $2.25 for a nickel’s worth of soda. I’m taking all I can get. Refill that baby 12 times and then send me on my way with a fold to go cup. I demand it. That is really a tangent though and probably more a sign of my growing curmudgeoness as I get older and nothing to do with some manliness rules.
And I’ve never really cared for umbrellas. Again not a manly thing but just consider them fairly useless as 9 times out of 10 you’re either running from the car to your destination or from your destination back to your car. I don’t feel like I need to carry a soaking wet stick to mess up my car or get lost at some restaurant. I believe umbrellas were invented in the days where you walked a lot more and a lot longer. But for the five seconds it takes me to run from my car to my destination an umbrella is a hindrance rather than a help. Again I am now old and becoming frighteningly Lee set in my ways but it is what it is.
We had to take “Government” our senior year, so I’m sure I learned something. If I learned nothing in government class, surely the three study halls I had in my final year taught me to never have that much down time in a single day.
I can’t recall my Dad ever commenting on other dudes attire or habits but I do work with a man who takes great pride in his appearance. He’s a fancy lad but will not drink out of a straw due to his fathers fear of being labeled a homo. He’s also a germa-phobe so I take great pleasure in bringing up the fact that the glass you’re drinking from could have been used by someone who just blew a dude in the parking lot.
Because I was carrying four majors in High School, I had never gotten around to taking Health until 12th grade. The class looked like Future Felons of America. Teacher took one look at me and bumped me up to Teachers Aid. That meant I get to review badly forged “parent” notes for attendance. I’m certain that many of the girls went on to high paying careers in “entertainment “…right Dakota?
Jeff, can’t believe the stories you just mentioned about your dad! I’m on vaca w my 6 yr old in Santa Clarita at my in laws, and this am my FIL while doing dishes told me about the 1st time his grandfather in law saw him in the kitchen. He told him ” Jimmy, get the FUCK outta that kitchen!” Talk about old fashioned, misogynistic, etc!
I’ve NEVER heard of majoring in subjects in high school. Is that a West Virginia thing, or an east coast thing, or a private school thing? Maybe it’s a British thing, like carrying an umbrella.
And on that topic, if you’re worried about turning gay because of straw or umbrella use or standing in the kitchen, it’s possible that that stallion has already left the barn. Not, according to reliable sources, that there’s anything wrong with that.
As a senior in high school, I took a course in second year philosophy, and was a founding member of the George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne fan club. We took turns watching the women in the advanced philosophy class so they wouldn’t vanish. However, it turns out that young ladies are not attracted to young men who belong to clubs honoring long-dead obscure philosophers. So I learned that, which has little application later in life, but is more useful than the straw and umbrella theories and other belief systems based on a fear that you are growing to like musicals at an unreasonable rate.
Lastly, I’ll just mention that, when I was young and still drank and drugged, that I carried BOTH an umbrella and a straw because I live in the Great Pacific Northwest AND because an umbrella is a lousy implement for snorting coke when the occasion presents itself.
John
When I was in high school, there was no such thing as a major or a GPA. Those were College Things. I was on the east coast, and went to both private and public high schools.
My dad never related any “how to be a man” chestnuts. About the closest it got was when I was maybe 10 years old and he asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. Ever the sarcastic little shit, I replied, “a man?” Dad just chortled and said “it’s not so easy.”
One of my most important learning experiences in high school was a non-class, something along the lines of “Women for Beginners.” I didn’t do very well, but the path is the goal, right?
And I’ve recently purchased an umbrella. Some days I have to take public transportation to work, and it’s worth having for the 15-minute walk from the subway (sorry, “metro”) to my building.
A friend of mine once asked me if I was gay due to the fact a carry a messenger bad and an umbrella. I said no – when you walk you need something to put your lunch in and something for when it rains.
I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess I get my ridiculing of men who get manicures from my Father. I know a (straight) man who gets his little fairy hands pampered, wtf?
Umbrellas are tricky. I have and use one, I used it last week, but umbrella or Victorian lady’s parasol? A fine line.
I’m anti-umbrella. My dad was indifferent to them; ‘keeps your head dry’. My mum on the other hand, any moisture and out with the f’ing umbrella. I’d tell her she gets more rain on her messing with the umbrella than if she just walked to the car and got straight in.
Straws, never drew any undo attention from anyone.
Hands on hips, yeah, hand hanging limp, any stereotypical poofter actions got pointed out and ridiculed quickly, by all generations.
Consumer Math sounds like something that should be a mandatory class in highschool. Do they still even do that? Seems all they do anymore is teach to pass the government mandated tests.
I recall being sent to some sort of remediable math class because I could not do Algebra. As I recall – the class was full of the sort of kids who probably ended up in jail later in life.
My dad only had daughters, so he didn’t have any manly chestnuts to pass on to us. He was racist AF, though, and made sure we understood that “mixing” would be poorly received. I think the umbrellas and straws business was kind of easy.
Guess dad didn’t want you to be the straw that mixed the drink.
Black boys are nutritious
Black boys fill me up
Black boys are so damn yummy
They satisfy my tummy
I have such a sweet tooth
When it comes to love
Black, black, black, black
Black, black, black, black
Black boys
in 12th grade I learned organic chemistry and calculus. Stuff I use every day drawing pictures of steel parts that get welded together.
Is this thing working? Somebody reported the commenting section had shit the credenza.
Looks good to me. Anybody else have trouble with it?
Hello?
Nope, can’t send a thing. Who do I complain to anyway? Pfftt…
Even the edit… I tells ya… =-)
The comments seem to be flying in.
jtb
I just saw one dragged away unconscious instead.
Was it bleeding from its face?
Some blood was re-accommodated in an alternative location.
I just learned that Scranton was formerly called Skunk’s Misery.
In my day (class of ’98) consumer math was called “Commercial and Business Math”. No shit. Easiest math class I ever took. To this day I use things I learned in that class, almost in a daily basis.
I may have killed Jeff Kay.
Yesterday, at Burger King, I ordered a whopper with extra pickles, the tomato to be placed under the meat instead of on top, and got a peach Mello-Yello from the digital drink fountain.
High Maintenance?