Thursday, October 28, 2004

box score

Red Sox won

Killings one

Saturday there will be a parade

Past practice

Back in January I wrote this lovely gem.

Did I find everything I was looking for?!

Are there more shoes in the back? Isn't all your stock right there on the floor?

Isn't that your whole gimmick? That all your crap is out on the floor so you don't have to have people go to the back, so you can pass the savings on to me, the customer.

No, I didn't find what I was looking for, so I came up here to a cashier, instead of the sales help on the floor, to hold up the checkout line to see if there was another hidden section for men's shoes. Do I need to say a password? Secret handshake? Nod? Wink? Come back at 6:37PM?

What kind of foolish question is that?

Did your supervisior tell you to ask that?

Come to think of it I need a pair of shiney new hooker boots, I busted my last pair trying to ditch the cops. Heel came right off, after I cleared that dumpster. Should have worn panties that night, if you know what I mean. Almost broke an ankle. Tore my favorite most profitable dress too.

...bought new shoes three days ago...obviously still very angry...

My reaction at the store was actually a sly grin and a verbal yeah. And because all that stuff actually did race through my head I took the cashier up on his offer to become a member of their shoe buying organization. My penance for wanting to be an ass. Membership does includes Member-only offers.

There must be a hidden section.
...

I went back to the same store recently because I needed new shoes and the same dude asked me the same question but this time I didn't come here and complain about it.

I did show my Membership card. I felt so special.

Soul free

For some unknown reason today a bought a mandolin online. It should be here in two to five days.

I’m taking tomorrow off for no good reason other than to use up a personal day.

We surprised one of our buddies with a birthday cake at lunch today, he really couldn’t believe it. I found out that single malt scotch goes well with cake. Or, at least that is what I was told.

I don’t know how to play any stringed instrument.

Flut a phone
Recorder
Kazoo(?) you’re supposed to hum into a kazoo
One song played very slowly on the piano (doesn't a piano have strings?)

All forgotten except the damn kazoo. Because how do you forget to hum?

I don’t think I’m artistic at all, although some of the stuff I do has been mistaken for artistic.

I’m good at assembling stuff from scratch, text onto a page, wood into things.

There is no soul in what I do.

When forced to write poetry I could get things to rhyme, to have the proper cadence but nothing came from within. Can you truly force poetry? Is the end result poetry if what you write is only because you were assigned to write verse?

When playing music, I could hit the proper notes but there was no heart behind them.

I cannot draw freehand either but give me a straight edge and a triangle and I can draw spot on.

Mechanical drawing is what it was called in high school.

Very mechanical drawing

So this mandolin, I’ll learn the chords and then store it away and then forget.

Better yet, if I know me, I’ll learn the chords, buy a better mandolin then store it away with this cheap mandolin and then forget.

It's the little things

I had a dream the other day that I let someone borrow my camera. I handed it to them and they immediately erased the five photos I had in it. I asked why they did that and they replied "They should have been gone by now anyway and I thought I might need the room." To which I replied "It can hold 240 photos. How many are you going to take?" And then I was pissed.

Do you feel lucky?

Yesterday, someone was in my cube helping herself to my milk duds and she asks if I'm excited about the Sox.

I told her that it's just a game, and asked her "How is my life going to be better if they win? How is anything going better? Is the world going to be a better place?"

She said "No" and I just shrugged my shoulders.

I'm sure it's not what she wanted to hear but folks getting themselves all worked up over some ballplayers winning a game gets people killed. It's happened with the Pats and the Sox.

It's just a game win or lose life goes on ...if you're lucky.

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Start some more

She and me haven’t been in the office together in over three years.

She’s the owner, I just helped build the place.

The place started out of her kitchen, today she’s in a corner brick townhouse with twelve desks, two conference rooms, and four private offices. One private office is mine.

My office is upstairs, hers is downstairs. I came in late, I’m trying to take it easy. I’m trying to shake a cold.

I gave a wave as I walked in, she was on the phone, just like in the days gone by. I had learned to wait due to her phone use. She stays on the phone for quite some time, sometimes.

She didn’t stay long after I got here, it was late for her. She came upstairs and asked how I was. “Okay, I guess” was the answer she received. She asked if there was anything she could do, I looked around there was nothing, I just smiled as she said “No, I guess.” We’re like some old married couple, we know each others moves.

“I turned down the heat. I hope you don’t mind” she said as she left. I’m glad someone is looking after the heat because I thought I was the only one that cared. And as of late I have been tired of harping on the other workers. I’ve been tired of being everybody’s mom.

I wouldn’t know a lot of the things I know today if I had never met her. There would have been no reason to know, there would have been no motivation to learn.

She lets me write my own ticket and always gets my back if there is a dispute between me and anyone else.

We’ve changed parts of this world for the better, and tried to change even larger parts in vain.

Some noble and possibly foolhardy deed is coming because they always do with her. I’ve slowed my quests in these days of late, I could do with a new one.

It was good to see her at her desk.

Monday, October 25, 2004

Hey, why don't you post like other folks? You know, like something that would be worth reading? Some little bit of wisdom, some heartfelt occurrence, some interesting story.

What ends up on this blog is what, more or less falls out of my head. I don't want to work at a post, I don't want to think about spelling, grammar, rhymes, verb tense, entertainment value. I don't want to think about any of that stuff. I use this space as a sort of runoff / catch all, sometimes with pictures. The runoff is from thoughts I have, I can sometimes think about things better once I can see them in print. I get to scrutinize my responses better if I assign words to them.

What about all the arguments you have with yourself, like this one?

Basically, it's the same deal. That's what's in my head and that's what falls out into this space.

But why post it for the whole world to see?

First, there aren't that many people who read this stuff and secondly I can always disavow anything I post. I can say I was just messing about.

Do you think folks are interested in any of this stuff?

On the whole I would say no, but I'm not posting for others. I'm posting for me and I'm easily entertained.

You're such a lameass.

Tell me something I don't know.

Sunday, October 24, 2004

I handed her the photo and she looks at it and says "My ass looks flat. You should have told me you were taking it and I would have stuck it out more or something"

I like the unposed for photos, although it really doesn't do her ass justice.

And I was shooting the bottle opener, anyway.

Friday, October 22, 2004

Life, sometimes, ain't pretty




So where I am I sometimes get advance notice of certain things. Such things as this 'Red Sox Fan Dies in Boston After Police Shoot Projectile Into Postgame Crowd.'

The story I first heard was that the police where shooting paintballs. I asked why would the police be shooting paint balls, shooting paint balls makes no sense.

The dude telling me the story heard the story and didn't understand it but that didn't prevent him from talking about it.

"That's what I heard! They were shooting paint balls." I knew of pepper balls but I didn't know that my city was using them.

The police were shooting pepper balls into the crowd. A pepper ball is similar to a paint ball but obviously the paint is replaced with a pepper substance. A pepper ball is used for crowd control. A paint ball is used primary for recreational purposes. Dude probably heard 'pepper ball' and asked what a pepper ball was and was told it was like a paint ball.

All I expect is from you to think just a little bit about what you are hearing.

...

The big news today is the death of the college student at the hands of the police. One of the local paper ran a front page photo of the victim laying on the ground and blood could be seen, inside the same paper another photo shows her bleeding eye injury with blood coming from her mouth and nose. Folks are outraged that such photos would be run in a local paper.

They ask "What about the family's feelings?"

When I first saw the photos, I was a little bit shocked but I think it's important to run such photos. These photos best demonstrate what price was paid for crowd control. Seeing nice head shots of the victim in happier times doesn't show the harsh reality that is sometimes life and sometimes death.

Only showing nice safe photos do not expound the results of the decisions we make.

I'm all for locking rowdy people up and giving them a police record for the rest of their lives. Even, video taping them and go after them later. But I'm not certain that shooting anything into crowds of folks is the correct response, mainly because you don't know who you are actually shooting at.

It only takes a moment to go from fun loving crowd to destructive mob and once you're in the thick of it, it's very hard to escape the physical restraints that exist when there are a large number of people.

...

So there was this incident and the cop said he was sworn at, which my friend denies.

But I know we both say fuck more than we should and he most likely said something like "I don't fucking believe this" which isn't swearing at the cop but the donkey of an enforcement officer would say that it was.

Don't argue with cops even when they are fat foolish anuses who suffer from feelings of insecurity.

...

I was asked if I had a map and I was asked to stand and look at the one he meant, which hangs on a wall across the way with two other maps. I said I have it right here and started to reach for it, and the guy asking gets a little irritated and asks "How do you know which map I want?" I informed the guy that there are only so many questions in the world and they all come around full circle, I said "Wait, without me looking over there is this the map?" and I pulled the map from the place I keep it" it was the map he wanted.

"How did you know?"

"I live in this world and I sometimes pay attention."

I knew why he was asking and there was really only one map that would have the information that he wanted so it wasn't anything spectacular. The trouble was I had just did something similar to him the other day when he got a letter of complaint about a certain intersection. I told him what the problem was and he got irritated because I hadn't read the letter.

How do I know? Full circle, dude.

Summary

bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch

bitch,

bite my shiney metal ass

Bitch, bitch, bitch.

I think that brings you up to date with me.

Thursday, October 21, 2004



“Hello” I said into the appropriate talking space of my cell phone

“Hi. Why don’t you call me?”

It was a good question I had wanted to call her but the timing always seemed to be off. She works nights, I work days, I always worry I’ll call and wake her or something.

“I always think I’ll bother you” was my offered answer.

“How are you going to bother me?” was her offered retort.

The truth was closer to that I need her more than she needs me. The truth still remains that I’m some dork of a white guy and she’s some hot, out going black chick. I don’t call because I need to call and I worry that that need will come right across the phone. I need to hear her voice sometimes, I tend to be short fused if I don’t. I don’t want to get dependant on her voice, on her heart, on her soul. I don’t think any detox center in the world would get me off of that stuff, so at times I stay at a safe distance.

Two fisted

We made it to the show, we were minutes away from the start of the victory party, we just needed to wait until the polls officially closed.

He was sent to find me, I was standing center stage about seventy five feet from the front, maybe a little to the right. This wasn’t my normal scene, normally I’d be in some back room setting something up, tearing something down or something not dissimilar. That day was different though, the only thing I had to do that day was to drive some VIP to the gathering and then wait. I made my way around the hall making my greetings to a select few until I ended up where I was, a good view of the stage and in the thick of it. I had a beer in each hand even though at the time I didn’t drink much, but by this time I had realized two things: one was that it’s just easier to take the beer than to try to explain that I don’t drink when after all I really didn’t have a reason not to drink I just didn’t, it never appealed to me; and the other thing was sometimes folks want to be nice to you and sometimes it best to just let them be nice. I also found out that if you are holding two beers, folks stop asking you if you want a beer, although it does make shaking hands a bit awkward. I gave the upward nod with the slightly rising eyebrows a lot. The “hey” was implied.

Earlier in the evening I was concerned about what it looked like holding two beers and I was making the mistake of trying to drink one beer quick so that I would only be holding the one but what can I say folks liked me and wanted to buy me beers so when one hand was empty another beer appeared so I just ended up holding two beers.

I’m not certain how he found me in that dense crowd but there he was by my side shouting something at me. “I was sent to tell you that the candidate has invited you to be up on the stage.” “Okay, thanks” is what I shouted back and added a smile. I looked up at the stage it was already jammed packed full of people, people I mostly didn’t recognize. I looked back at him and he knew he just wasted his time working his way through the crowd. “I’ll tell them you told me” I offered as a consolation. I don’t think he was consoled. There were plenty of people seeking the spotlight, I chose to stay where I was, on the floor with my two beers.




Wednesday, October 20, 2004

That don't make no sense

Conspiracies need to be more than just possible they need to make sense.

Conspiracies are usually a lot of work, there are crucial ducks you need to get in a row and if you don't, your ass can end up grass.

Why go through all the work and risk of a conspiracy when you can accomplish the same thing by working the existing system?

I'll believe your conspiracy theory when it makes sense.

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Some of this is personal

5:10AM this morning I heard the leak. I heard it the day before as well. The top most half bath's shower unit decided it wanted attention.

The prior day the plan was to replace it while the Red Sox played, that was the only time I could do it. Driving to my fourth home improvement center I got an idea that might fix the problem on the cheap. At this time the Sox where winning so I went with my simple plan.

A little past five today, I heard my plan didn’t work. While I was hearing the bucket fill with shower water, I was estimating the time it would take to replace the shower stall. I would not have time after the day job because I would need to go to the second job. I could not let it go another day so I called in a personal day, turns out it was my first this year.

While I was working on the shower, the light flickered a bit, I figured one of the two bulbs was about to go but it flickered too much. I removed the globe and saw that there was only one bulb and the problem is a partially bare wire. I sighed a sigh but I’m glad I caught it.

I removed the old shower stall and stood where it used to be, well I tried to stand where it used to be. The previous installer used particle board for the flooring which is the worst type of wood product one can use for a bathroom floor. My foot went through the floor and stopped on the ceiling below.

Everything is back in working order. I’m fighting the start of a cold again and wearing a t-shirt of my own design and making because I’m short on clean clothes.



Dragons down the spine. There is supposed to be a dragon on the left breast too but I haven't done that yet, not on this t-shirt. The Dragons are my sister's school sports team(s). I was bored . Red isn't my color. My sister is a high school teacher.

Monday, October 18, 2004

sew buttons

I complain a lot.

I got a call, the inquisitor asks how much I want to charge for that favor I did the other day. The favor was a bit of a bother but I actually didn't do much, I pushed a button. I did need a ladder and I was inconvenienced getting a set of keys but in the end I only pushed a button.

There's this story of how this factory had their main production machine stop working and they had all sorts of folks working on it to get it fixed and no one could get the machine working until some old guy says "I can get your machine working but it will cost you." The company was desperate, so they agreed without knowing what the price would be, then the old guy walks up to the machine and pushes one button and the machine starts to work. The old guy hands over a bill for $10,000.25. The accountant asks for the break down of the bill and the old guy says "It's 25 cents for pushing the button and ten thousand dollars for knowing what button to push."

Me, on the other hand, think it absurd to charge for pushing a button …and that's why I am no longer self
employed.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

over three hundred words of nothing

I’m looking for a high back chair, maybe a matching pair.

I get three weeks vacation, I’ve only used one week, so far. I can carry over the remaining two weeks until June 30th of next year. Next year I pick-up another weeks worth of vacation, I think anyway, that will give me six weeks worth of vacation next year.

I also get four personal days, and fourteen paid holidays, I think it’s fourteen, maybe it’s more.

I think I’ve only used one personal day this year. I probably used the personal day for ass scratching. I cannot carry over personal days. I think more ass scratching might be in store before the year is out.

I can also trade three sick days for one vacation day, if I want. I can trade for up to three vacation days. I’ve never called in sick – nine years running.

When I don’t call in sick I can trade a weeks worth of sick time for a weeks for of pay.

Next year I only have to work 223 days.

Tuesday is the day I do all the print advertising. I haven’t missed a Tuesday for over six years. Even when I went out of country, I was always back by Tuesday night to get the ads done.

I think someone else has to learn to do the ads and the check writing …and the web page updating.

I think I need to get away, not so much to get away but just so I know certain worlds don’t end just because I’m away.

The trouble is sometimes bad things happen when I’m away, things I might have been able to prevent.

It would be nice to only work just one job but then I would probably feel guilty that I wasn’t saving the world in all my free time. The second job is a convenient excuse.

Friday, October 15, 2004

Maybe someday I'll get it

Regina talks about the difference between self-esteem and confidence.

She and I have had this discussion before.

I usually hit the dictionary when I'm debating issues with myself such as this.

Esteem equals worth, value, opinion, judgement. Confidence equals trust, faith.

Low self-esteem but high confidence.

Is it that you have faith in your abilities but think your abilities aren't worth much? Or do you separate your abilities from who you are as a person? Which is what I do for myself, it seems.

I separate my deeds from who I am, even though you can often judge a person's worth by their deeds. I know my heart and sometimes my heart doesn't match my deeds.

My deeds are usually more generous than my heart.

I'm not certain where I fit on the self-esteem scale maybe that's part of my problem. I think I can be highly prized, but from day to day, I'm most likely just some shmuck. I don't live up to my potential.

I also think that if I can do a thing then everyone else can do that same thing. After all, if I can do it, how hard can it be? So, I'm confident in my abilities but those abilities don't impress me much.

I judge myself harder than I judge others.

This gets talked out here because sometimes I don't understand my own thoughts.

Thursday, October 14, 2004

I watched the last debate with two of my sisters and one of them turns to me and asks "They're both lying aren't they?"
I registered to vote when I was seventeen.



No right

Lyle Lovett is cool and he has no right to be cool.
"I just think $1500 for a handbag is too much" I said.

"I agree that's why I buy that stuff at a markdown"

I've been a couple places, seen a couple things but if it's a roundtrip ticket why not just stay where you are? That's my philosophy, which most of my friends don't understand.

I have friends who have expensive cars and every once in a while, I'll be doing them a favor and they will ask "Do you want to drive my car?" I usually say "No" unless it will save me a good parking space.

The best ride I have every been in was the first truck I had ever owned (as opposed to leasing). It was a 1987 Toyota pick-up truck. I bought it used from some guy that had rolled it over. I fixed it enough so that it was road worthy. What I liked about that truck was that it looked like a piece of crap but I could beat anybody off the line. That sucker was quick. It topped out at 92MPH but it got there very quickly and moving through five forward gears in a small amount of time is fun. The previous owner had put in a twin progressive Holley carburetor and despite that fact that it only had four cylinders that truck knew how to use them. I may have smoked a clutch or two but what the heck.

I'm a simple guy with simple dreams. I've experienced some of the fancy stuff and the fancy stuff can stay were it is, I'm not impressed with it.

Last Night

I don't want to say too much but I was with Lady G last night and a saddle and a shower were involved.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

"It's good to care but doing is better"

What if you don't care but you 'do' anyway?

Things get done out of duty as opposed to a sense of caring.

Something like self mandated socialism, I guess.

...

There is something else afoot but I can't put my finger on it.

...

I'm going home and eat cake.

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

I know longwinded

Some agents are starting to be a bother.

If you let the vendors get up in your face, don't try to get up in mine.

You need to settle down and at least pretend to be a confident professional. The clients will like that better than your display of panic.

Oh and yeah, stop pricing things thirty percent more than they are worth, that might cut down on your inability to sell things. It's not because I cut out one obtuse phase from some longwinded ad.

And I know longwinded.

Right or wrong? Who's telling the story?

Who's to say we're right.

Better doesn't mean good.

I know of this teacher from England who is now in the States, she was hired to teach English but was reassigned to U.S. History. She tried to explain that the U.S. History that she knows is a bit different than the U.S. History that is taught in the Unites States.

"The winners write the history" but the survivors sometimes write things too.

It's best to know all sides of a story.

Monday, October 11, 2004

My last battle won't be that one and it won't be this one

Today I found myself doing things I hadn't done regularly for years.

And no, one of them was not mowing the lawn. I do that at least once a month.

Checking smokes (smoke detectors) and sorting checks were the things.

I write out close to one hundred checks a month using Quickbooks but I no longer have to sort the checks when they come in, someone else does that but today I was looking for a check that someone wrote out by hand, which I don't like them to do but sometimes things I don't like happen. Anyway, the bank statement was sitting in the incoming mail bin so I took it and sorted the, close to one hundred, checks.

There are times I miss the old days but not too much because I still remember why I had to leave the old days behind. I still trace over the scar with my index finger just thinking about it. There are times I would still chance it anyway even though I know it's a losing battle. The only thing that stops me is that I don't want that to be my last battle.

And you thought the opossum story sucked...

Saturday I got a call from one of the agents, she needed someone to check smoke detectors in a condo to make certain they would pass inspection. I didn’t want to help but if she was calling me she had most likely exhausted all her other options. I told her I would do it if she couldn’t get anyone else. She couldn’t get anyone else.

So today, I stopped by the office to get the keys to the vacant unit and got a few comments from the folks there that they were surprised to see me. I try to avoid the ‘crowds’ because they usually say stupid things but this was unavoidable. The keys I wanted weren’t to be found so I called a couple of cell phones and got voice mail both times. I left messages for both the most likely guilty party and the agent who asked for my help.

I was told that the most likely guilty party would be back soon but that she was already running 45 minutes late from returning from lunch. I said I’ve left a message and that I wasn’t waiting to which I was assured that the most likely guilty party would return soon. I paused and looked at the person offering reassurance, she’s kinda new, thought about telling her that I’ve been around since the start and that I know that what she is saying isn’t likely true. But, instead of saying all of that I just said “See ya.”

I went home and mowed the lawn, finally. As I was hosing off the mower, like I always do, I got a phone call, it was from the most likely guilty party. She was guilty. She said that she had been riding her horse for the past three hours and that she left her cell phone at home. I asked her to drop the needed keys on my desk and hoped that the person who tried to offer me reassurance would see her showing up two hours after I left. Two hours isn’t soon for those of you keeping score.

A couple hours after that I got a second call, it was from the agent who asked for my help. She said she had left her cell phone at home and just got back. I told her I should be all set.

I just wondering why these folks don’t carry their cell phones with them, at least leave them in the car. I carry mine every where, isn’t that the point of a cell phone. Sometimes I shut the ringer off or leave it in the car but it’s never truly far.

It turns out that the smoke detectors will most likely pass inspection as long as the inspector isn’t a jerk. Their placement isn’t ideal but they would be effective if needed. And they all make loud noises when the lighted button is pushed.

I was told I could charge whatever I wanted for the help and that it would be billed to the owner, I was told this like I’m here for the money. If I were here for the money, I would charge a fair market hourly rate instead of the flat rate I currently charge. If I were here for the money, I would be using my Real Estate Salesperson’s License which I just remembered I need to renew.

Sunday, October 10, 2004

The aim of an argument or discussion should not be victory, but progress.
- -- Joseph Joubert

Ya gotta luv google...

This site is listed fourth from the top for this search

10-11, twelve.

Another birthday tomorrow, another reminder that time is running out.

I often wonder, did I do enough. Am I doing enough? Will there ever be ‘enough’?

Does it even, ever matter?

There are times I try to shut the world out, just take care of me, I try to be like everyone else or what everyone else seems to be at times.

There are times I wish I could not care, to turn a blind eye but there is no looking away for me.

Does it ever matter? Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter to me. Sometimes, it matters only to me.

It’s usually the dumb little thing you don’t think twice about that often matters most. Honestly being willing to do is often more important than the doing. Sometimes for me the willing is absent.

I’ll probably stay up past midnight, have the next year creep upon me, there will be no bells or whistles, no party hats, just me and my thoughts of the things not done.

I wonder how that opossum is doing because according to some web site they usually don’t live longer than a year in their usually environment.

The opossum story ...the long version

My cell phone rings, it’s 8:02PM Saturday night, I’m reading a book I just got at Barnes & Noble.


“There’s something in the house! It’s big and on the first floor it was just walking down the hall”

As I was putting on my sneakers I said “Okay”

“I don’t want to go downstairs. It’s a white grey in color”

“Is the back door unlocked?”

“I don’t want to go downstairs” I took this to mean possibly the door is locked. “Where are you?” she asked.

“At home”

“What can I do?” from the tone in her voice - nothing, I think.

“I’ll head right over”

“When are you coming?”

“Right now”

I grabbed my blue mini mag-lite, from beside my TV and a beach towel that I haven’t put away yet from my room. I go to the basement and get a pair of leather gloves, a moving blanket, and a drop cloth.

I got to the house in seven minutes, the back door was locked. I walk back to the front and try to call from my cell phone but her phone is busy, so I ring the bell.

I’m let in and I’m told “It’s on the second floor, in the family room, I shut the door to trap it in”

So I started to head upstairs after I untied the moving blanket and the drop cloth which had been tied and I’m asked “What are you going to do?” I saved the smart remark and just said “Get it out of the house.”

“What do you think it is?” I was asked.

“Well if it’s just walking about, it’s probably a opossum.”

“What if it’s a rat? You could be killed!” Again, I saved the smart remark.

“A rat isn’t going to kill me,” I said. If I were to be bitten by rat I would get to the hospital before the onslaught of death.

It was a opossum and a young one at that, I caught it using the beach towel. The towel was the most pliable so it could be moved around easily. I wrapped it up tight in the towel so it couldn’t move so it couldn’t bite me or squirm to get out, and I walked back down the stairs.

The house’s owner heard me coming down the stairs and asked “What are you doing?”

“I’m walking down the stairs.”

“Do you have anything?”

“Yes, …It’s a opossum.”

I tried to explain that I needed something to put the towel into that would hold the towel tightly so I could transport the little fellow to a different location. There was still this state of panic so I grabbed an emptied out file box walked back upstairs and put the drop cloth in the box to hold things secure, and tried to grab all the stuff I walked in with.

I was asked to call to let her know what I ended up doing.

I started to drive away to some far location and I started to worry that the opossum couldn’t breath too much longer the way I had it packed so I drove home. I thought a death sentence for just wandering into someone's home was a little severe.

My tenant has a small animal trap she uses for catching stray cats so she can get them fixed. The cage is kept in the yard by her trash barrels, I grabbed it and gently dumped the opossum into it. The opossum was fine but it wasn’t digging the cage. I didn’t want to spook it anymore than I already had so I pointed the cage away from my house and opened the door. He disappeared into the dark of my yard. The time was 8:26PM.



I called my friend back to let her know what I did and to let her know that I left my mini mag-lite at her house.

“What if it gets into your house? Now that it has your scent?” I was asked.

“I don’t think he going to be dropping by for any visits”

...

I took a bat, the flying little animal kind, from her house once, when she lived in a different house. That’s was scary because you can’t hear a bat coming and you know ...they fly. I caught the bat with a trout net.

Saturday, October 09, 2004

Opossum is spelled with an 'o'...

Friday - hung out with Miss Y, Miss J and her boyfriend, watched the Red Sox win, the barkeep bought me a shot

Saturday - got a haircut, didn't mow the lawn, caught a opossum in a panicked friend's house with a beach towel.

I'll type out the opossum story tomorrow

Friday, October 08, 2004

Columbus Day

Lady G called to find out what's up.

"I'm working Monday so we can't do anything for your birthday on your birthday, but keep Wednesday open" she said.

I have Monday off for the hallowed day of honoring Columbus. I think I'll sleep in.

evening last...

My cell phone ran, it was my sister. I was holding pint number four and in the middle of a bitch session with five co-workers. She wanted to know if I wanted to go see Kim Richey at some club in Cambridge called Johnny D's. I said I couldn't make it because I still had the second job to go to and left soon after.

When I got to the second job there was nothing pressing to do, so I called my sister and asked if you can wear sneakers at the club because I was wearing my Chuck Taylor's. My sister was at the club recently with one of my other sisters who was playing the sax there, so she should know.

Sneakers where okay so I went, had some food and saw the show. Kim played two sets because the lady that was to preform before her didn't show.

I picked up her lastest CD, which I'm not certain is her best work and I don't like the cover art but what the heck I had a good time.

I read in the paper today something I guessed was the case. Driving from the second job to my house I pass a housing development. Last night there were about thirty police vehicles and a section of grass area that was marked off with that yellow crime scene tape. I casually mentioned to others someone must have been shot. That someone was a twenty-two year old Hess gas station employee, my city's 55th murder on the year.

Thursday, October 07, 2004

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

There is too much quiet

I think our sense of patriotism sometimes gets in our way.

It's like the last four years American's fly has been down and nobody wants to say "Hey, your fly is down" and when someone finally says something they are told "I know my fly is down, I like it that way."

Kerry will get labeled a tax and spend liberal and some of the gains he made will be lost. Because a lot of the undecided don't like tax and spend liberals. Kerry will have to play a card better than the tax and spend liberal card, maybe the deficit, maybe the unfulfilled promises for social programs, the sour economy, he'll probably use the war, again.

Bush says it's a hard job but we're making progress. That's what I tell my boss when I'm dragging my feet and don't want to do the job.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

I smell plenty..

“Timmy, you need to stop and smell the roses” one of the sisters told me.

“He smells plenty” the other sister said.

Thanks, I guess, for getting my back but could you rephrase that in the future.


I always think that bloggers are forever even though I know this to be untrue.

Rabbits and me...

I know that rabbits scream because I've heard it through no fault of my own.

My sister used to have a rabbit as a pet and she bought this harness that was made for walking rabbits on a lease or some other foolishness not dissimilar. One day she left the rabbit out in the yard and it got entangled in some bush and screamed it's head off. It was almost pissed-off-cat-like but scared.

That's how I know rabbits scream. It's not like I go around tormenting rabbits.

the memo

the memo pretty much was letting some fuck-up, who is always calling in sick, off the hook for some fuck-up, he fucked up and now if was fucking up my sechedule.

The memo pissed me off and I let everyone know about with loudly delivered expletives. Loud enough for the memo's author to hear, the author, all my supervisors and all of the front office. Towards the end of my diatribe, I announce that I don't feel well and might have to call in sick tomorrow for the first time in eight years.

After I sat down, a supervisor came over and asked me a question that truly isn't my job title. I explained to him that I didn't know and that I'm choosing to be a moron because morons have no responsibilities and can fuck-up whenever they want without any recourse. The supervisor just stood there, I'm not certain why because he could get the info elsewhere but he chose to stay.

He stayed longer than I could, in good conscience, wait him out so I said what I thought and then pulled out a map to correct the information I gave originally.

The next day I'm asked to do something and I said if you asked me that yesterday morning I would have helped but today I'm a different person, no more candy, no more bringing stuff in for the bake sale, no more nothing. Then I am asked to talk to someone about getting the department free paper, and like the sucker I am, I not only negotiate the transfer of the paper but I went and picked it up too.

Being a selfish bastard is harder than I thought, but I am going to give it a harder try.

Monday, October 04, 2004

memorandum

So, there was this memo, left on someone's desk while they were at lunch. When the someone returned, the memo caused offense. There was some swearing.

The memo didn't make it.

oil and water

My thoughts, as of late, are like drops of oil on a pool of water.

Yeah, not very deep.

There are a lot of drops but they just aren't going anywhere.

the usual

Friday, we were given a schedule to cover four days worth of lunch breaks that are usually covered by someone else. The schedule assigns a primary and an alternate.

Once I'm the primary and three times I'm the alternate. The one time I'm the primary, I'm also the alternate.

I've got my own back. …Which is usually the case.

Oh, yeah...

The debate – Kerry won, but it was a debate against someone who few think is a good debater.

I think Kerry kept the game alive. That’s it. He held onto or grabbed a chance to win.

If it were a football game, it was past the two minute warning and Kerry was down a touchdown, he tied it up. He won some fans. What he has to do now is keep the other team from scoring. There is still a lot of time on the clock and the other team is going to get the ball back.

...

The Poker Game Friday night

(previously delivered my poker chips and 36 bottles of beer)

Start time 5:30PM

Arrived with $112.00

Threw in $20.00 for pizza and beer, and the cab ride home with tip was $15.00

Got back home with $135.00

End Time 1:30AM

Sunday, October 03, 2004