Every once and awhile, I'll get this feeling that I want to be better than good, at least with one thing.

I could be better than good at a lot of things if I took the time to develop that one thing.

Choosing that one thing is the problem.

I also think there is a slight worry that I'll do my best at that one thing and it won't be very good. I think that's probably why I stay proficient in a few things because if you're proficient in a few things then you can't be expected to be very good at any one thing.

...

It just takes one generation to forget and then most likely it's gone forever

One of the things I dislike about me being in a pissy mood is that it get results. Instead of a friend telling me to knock it off, telling me that we all go through bad patches, I get placated.

It could be because I usually keep my bad attitudes inside for the most part. I usually save my snide remarks for online ranting.

I'm being taught bad habits.

...

I was on the roof again today and the feelings of vertigo were almost non existent. I tried to fire up the gas powered mower and it would only stay running with the air filter off. I need a new air filter.

I pulled the cord to the mower eight times in a row and it didn't even turn over.

"Is it not starting?" I was asked.

I glared at the inquisitor and then asked "Isn't that a silly question?"

I didn't want to mow the lawn even though it needed it, even though we are about to get a week of rain. according to the forecast.

I was angry with myself that I somehow got the motivation to pull the mower from the shed and it only got worse when the mower wouldn't start.

...

this is my featured photo

I, the first guy standing out of frame

Like when that chair in the hallway that nobody uses get moved, you kind of remember something was there but it really doesn't get missed.

After four days away, just one note requesting one item. Before I left for most of the week, I mentioned to someone that I wouldn't be missed, that folks would just do without.

Folks did without.

I wasn't lamenting my own plight. I was just using myself as an example that he wouldn't be missed either. We will both end up being a hazy memory.

"Remember that guy that we used to call, the one that used to always try to help us out?"

"Who? Pete?"

"No. Who's Pete? No, not Pete, that other guy."

"I don't remember. It must have been before my time."

...

I draw lines for most of my living.

...

"Hello" I said into my cell phone which was met with a pause.

"Hi. Which Tim is this?"

"Tim Catfish, I work with *the real estate company*."

"Oh. It's Sue. I just wanted to let you know that my paying the owner back some of that money I borrowed, but could I get a new summary of what I owe?"

"Sure."

"I just want you to know that I'm not trying to hurt anyone and that I'm doing my best to treat everyone fairly. All I have left is my name."

I am always apprehensive when people start explaining things to me when those things have to do with how they are perceived. I consider such explanations as one shoe dropping and I'll keep an ear out for that other shoe. I didn't bother to try to find out why she was explaining things to me. "And your good looks" I said. She seemed a little down trodden so I figured I would work on her vanity to brighten her day and she is an attractive woman (and I sometimes wonder why I've never lusted after her, 'cause sometimes I do lust after women)

"What?"

"Your name and your good looks." I explained which was met by another pause.

"My good looks? You're the best." She then started to reflect on her life and she mentioned her only child and how that her daughter is the only things that really matters and will be the only thing of worth that she leaves in this world. She then asked about my own family legacy. I mentioned that so far my branch ends with me.

"I think you would make a great father. I think if you were my father, I could have been president of the United States." It was then my turn to pause.

"Thanks" I finally said to break the silence. I was afraid she was going to say something even more awkward to reply to.

...

So, I had the inspector for the insurance company come out on Thursday so, I had to button some things up. I didn't button up all I wanted to and he seemed more concerned with things I wasn't so concerned with but things are out of my hands at the moment.

...

Some dude got busted selling crystal meth from a house that I can see from my kitchen window during the fall and winter.

It's what you do when you don't have to that shows your true measure. Three times I said no to three different people and then later I said yes because my original answer was just me being in a pissy mood.

...

"You're in early. How come?"

"Cause I want to be done with this place early." I had my own worries this week and someone else's worries were assumed as well. I let it put my in a foul mood. She then asked what was causing me concern. She knew the main reason although she may have not known about the things that came from that main problem. I said that I merely have just had enough for the time being.

"Is there anything I should be doing different?" She asked. There was nothing I could say, part of her philanthropy had caused the current difficult situation. I wanted to say "Screw the needy. Take care of yourself. Focus on the business" but then I would also have to say "Forget your family." I've been down this road before, this road seems to get rougher each time I'm on it. In the past I've asked myself what would I have done in her shoes. My feet would lead me to the same road, so there is nothing I can say, we wear the similar shoes.

I hung my head which she couldn't see over the phone line but she could probably hear it in my voice as I said "No."

I just wish things were different.

I wish there was less shit to catch.

I wish I didn't become a world class shit catcher by so much hands-on experience.

I wish just because I can didn't mean I have to.

I wish I didn't always feel like the last defense.

I wish she didn't know that I would make the same decisions as her.

I wish she didn't know without a doubt that she can take me for granted.


"Tim, I hate to call you but you get things done." the publisher said.

"Yeah, I think I'd be happier if I was a goof-off, but then I would be unhappy because things wouldn't get done."

...

"What would you do if I wasn't here right now?"

She thought a moment and gave an answer.

"Then why don't you do that?"

Even though at times I do my best to be mean to people they also seem to come back.

If the pen I'm using doesn’t have a cap to it and it is supposed to, I'll throw it away. If the pen I'm using has a cap that has been noticeably crewed upon, I'll throw it away. I throw chewed pencils away as well.

I'm sitting in my second office waiting for someone to show. I've been here for two hours working on a new ad, that's how I spend my days off.

Driving in I received a phone call from the editor of a local paper. He was looking for a check and he called me because I can usually get things done. I passed the message on to the appropriate person but so far to no avail.

I'm the middle man, only there is no markup for my service. I like helping folks out but I dislike it when I'm powerless to help. I hate it when all my good looks and charm fail to produce deeds of grandeur.

Sometimes, my self sarcasm gets mistaken for arrogance.

"Yeah, dude. I really truly believe that shit I say about myself."

I play the lottery, not excessively, not even every week, maybe twice a month. A lot of my co-workers play the lottery more frequently than I do and this one guy, a friend, occasionally asks "What you do if you scratched for a million dollars?" I usually don't answer him with anything other than a shoulder shrug. The most I've ever scratched for was one hundred dollars and this guy was right there with me and I played it cool which is exactly what I would do if I hit for one million. I'm not going to jump up and down and start shouting "Look at me! I'm holding a million dollars. Mug me if you dare."

Which is probably what he would do.

I will tell you this though if I did win million, I wouldn't say much but I would smile a bit more.

"What's with you?" people would ask because it would look like I was smiling for nothing.

"I'm a happy guy. I smile all the time." I'll lie.


I have a horrible poker face. It's a good thing my poker buddies are horrible drunks.


***

"Can you change the picture to this better one?"

"You think that's better?"

"Yeah. Don't you?"

"No. It looks like your selling vinyl siding. I'll use it if you want but all I see in the picture is vinyl siding."

"I even asked whether I should use this one or the view and all the women said this one."

"I'll use it. It's just my opinion but that looks like you're selling vinyl siding." I said repeating myself as I looked at the photo again. "or maybe it's aluminum siding, I don't know" I did know, it was aluminum. "Either way all I see is siding."

I found a small garter snake in my basement. I noticed it a couple days ago but I thought it was a piece of rusted metal. It's still pliable. I thought of what to do with it and throw it away didn't even make the list. The top two: make a paper weight; try to skin it.


"Tim, the owner wants you to call her when you get a chance." I heard a voice yell from below. I hate when people just yell about the office but I do have the 'do not disturb' feature activated on my phone so they can't disturb me with the phone.

I called the owner. I bitched about a few things. She took them all in stride. I wanted her to worry like I worry but her voice belied no worry.

I'm getting a lot of hits from this search for 'joke'. It's a little video of me telling a joke. I think watching me tell the joke is actually much funnier than the joke itself.

I've been working around the house. I miss construction.

The squirrels are back in the eaves. I dislike heights so I haven't been doing anything about them until today. I pulled the thirty-three foot ladder from the flat part of the one story roof and made some repairs. I was able to fix some of it by reaching down from the two story roof and I think I gave myself a first degree burn from the black asphalt roof. I would tell you where the burn is but it's kind of embarrassing admitting that you burned your big fat gut by laying down on the roof. I tucked my t-shirt in after the third time.

"What is your spiritual gift?" The choices are exhortation, giving, leadership, mercy, prophecy, service and teaching. It was the second time he asked me, that day. I gave him the same answer as before.

"I don't know. What's yours?"

"Exhortation!"

"What a lame ass gift. That's got to be the easiest to own" I said to myself.

"Come on what's yours. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me." he said as he blocked my way out.

"Do you want to wrestle to the floor right here?"

He laughed and mentioned his bad back as he stepped aside. I ran into him again as we walked to our cars. He wished me a good day and I wished the same for him. He's a simple man, a little clueless at times, or so I think.

"I'll have a good day as long as I don't get sad." He has been diagnosed as being bi-polar.

"Why don't you exhort yourself?"

"There's no glory in that." His answer was consistent with what I know about him. He does things for rewards as opposed to out of kindness. He continued on that he came from an abusive home and that his mother is still abusive, at least verbally so he has trouble encouraging himself.

I just let his statements hang in the still spring air, I opened my car door as I told him goodbye.

I never claimed exhortation as my gift.

"How do you feel about kids?" the Sunday School superintendent asked my sister. My youngest sister was seated next to me; we were just hanging out waiting for the Bible School to begin. My sister stammered a little for an answer.

"Because we're looking for people to teach Sunday School for next year" the superintendent added.

"I'm not too comfortable around groups of kids."

"Okay, that's an honest answer."

"What about you? How are you with kids?"

"I love kids but I don't like teaching" I said.

"I was going to say something if you said you didn't like kids" my mom said.

"What?!"

"You like kids and old people"

"And I hate everyone else in the middle?"

"I wouldn't say he likes them, it's just that they like him" my sister said.

"And how do you be rude to kids and old people?" I asked.

"Oh you can be rude to kids" the superintendent said.

"I think you have a point though, you respect old people and the kids you feel that they might not know any better but everyone else should know better" my mom said to the superintendent. I sat quietly thinking that that was my point.

…

It was my sister's birthday yesterday so we ended up going to the Olive Garden. We didn't know we were going, it just sort of worked out that way. The birthday girl was wearing a black blouse that had noticeable white pinstripes.

I've never been to an Olive Garden and my first impression was that they were trying to be fancier than they are, like they were trying to trick people into thinking they are more than just a casual dining restaurant chain and I voiced that opinion.

"What do you know? You hate everyone except kids and old people" my recently thirty year old sister said.

"At least I'm not dressed like the Godfather eating lunch at the Olive Garden" I retorted.

so, I'm rerunning the dialog through my head.

"Did you misspell 'yeah'?" I asked myself and what I remembered is that I spelled it 'ya'

"Dumbass"

I'm quicker than you might think

So, I filled in for the guy while he passed papers on his house. I was at his desk waiting for him to leave and the everything was working fine. He left I sat down completed the request and send it to print. Nothing printed, so I went to the back up plan with bypasses some routines but gives a finished product. Nothing printed from the backup plan, so I poked around the setting and noticed the network administrator change the location of the print server. Eleven thirty of a Friday is not the time I would have chosen to make such a change but then I’m only a small time network administrator.

After twenty or so minutes I had the backup plan working like it usually does but the delay caused a backup of people waiting in the lobby. Normally, I only would have to deal with these things for an hour but that Friday wasn’t normal.

At two thirty my co-worker returned. I told him about the printer problem, about some questionable request I granted or didn’t grant and then left for lunch.

“Do you like the new uniforms?” I was asked by a friend as I sat at a table next to my friend seated at the bar. I looked over at the bartender. She was wearing her usually jeans but a black new polo type jersey with the establishments name embroidered on it.

“Today her tips are based solely on her personality” a different friend said.

“Yeah, I’m screwed” the bartender said.

I stayed a few minutes longer than an hour, I felt I was due.

***

I went back after work and rejoined a friend that had stayed, one of his daughters joined us later. They both left together after one round. I moved to my favorite spot but my courtesy left me one spot over. People were ordering beers from either side of me like usual when one guy places his cell phone, his keyring and his sunglasses by my left elbow, ordered and received a beer and kept all his stuff just sitting on the bar as he drank over my left shoulder. I don’t mind too much sharing my personal space if the situation deems it or if it’s just for a brief moment but this guy bothered me.

I casually watched him look around the bar sometimes even turning his back to the bar with all his things. During one of his explorations, I pinched his sunglasses and hide them behind the stainless steel garnish container that sits at my end of the bar.

He noticed the sunglasses missing quicker than I would have guessed he would. He asked me if I knew what happened. I played dumb but the other regular next to me started saying that he definitely remembered the sunglasses being there. The guy then started to look around on the floor, up and down the bar but he couldn’t find them. Then the other regular started looking so, I looked to. None of us found the glasses so he started to conclude that the last guy to order a beer from our area took them.

I thought for a moment and then pulled the glasses from there hiding place.

“I was playing a joke.” I said instead of saying that I thought you were an ass so I stole your sunglasses.

He turned out to be not a bad guy. I kind of liked him.

But he still should not violate my space.

house of light

Dude, buy some decent shoes that don't squeak.

So, squeaky shoes dude is asking around for cheap housing near the waterfront. I actually think I saw a property he might like in last week's paper. It had a stable for your unicorn and everything.

***

So, I'm not impressed with the peach granola muffin top or the cranberry creme coffee.

But really what the heck was I thinking ordering either of those?

***

"Why would anybody listen to you?"

"Because I'm a published poet"

"What of yours has been published?"

"In the fourth grade, the school printed a book and included my poem."

The school was about to close due to budget cuts and someone had this grand idea to have the students do some things on the creative side and to publish the collection into a book to help 'save our school'.

All the students were given a blank piece of paper to put whatever they wanted to on it. I've never been great with blank pieces of paper so I did what I knew. What I knew on that day was how to draw a lighthouse. It was a decent picture, I passed it in and forgot about until a couple days later.

"We really like the lighthouse but we need something more. Could you write a poem or something?"

I certainly did not want to write a poem. I didn't even want to draw the lighthouse but I ended up writing the damn poem. I think I still have the book from my closed grammar school around somewhere. I forget most of the labored poem.

Some are like strong tall towers
Some sit on a field of flowers

Those are the two lines I remember. I only remember them because of that second line. I could never picture a lighthouse in a field of flowers but I needed something to rhyme with towers. I guess I was a sucker for alliteration in the fourth grade as well. I hadn't realized it was present in those lines until I typed it out just now.

some abut fields of flowers

would have been better, maybe

maybe I'll draw a lighthouse for you later.

is this how she raised me?

My sister was babysitter our niece and ended up taking her to the craft store where our three year old niece picked up some craft paint among other things.

"Nana, you can use my paints whenever you want." our niece told her grandmother

"That's fair because you use a lot of my paints."



I was shoving the snow thrower back into the shed after I pulled it out months before and set it in the unfinished great room that sits at the back of the house. Part of the process involved pulling out the wagon I use for yard work. My niece was in the yard and started to use her plastic shovel to put dirt in the wagon.

"Emily, don't do that. Timmy doesn’t want you to get the cart all dirty." my mom told her granddaughter.

"I bought it for hauling dirt." I always hate it when she makes me the bad guy when it her that has the problems.

"Well, if she gets in it she'll get all dirty." Sometime the wagon is used for hauling little girls.

"Well, if she decides to get in it she can dump the dirt out."

My mom wasn't happy with my reasoning. "Are you opposed to her having fun? Because she's just having fun. She's putting dirt in a dirt wagon."

If my mom had said something about Emily digging holes in my patchy back yard lawn then I would have been quiet.


I sometimes wonder why I'm not more screwed up it the head

The Earth is forever hungry and from its thousand little opened mouthed graves, whispers "And to dust you will return" until one of its holes is filled with a little box of human when the whisper becomes a muffled "I told you so"

Way to go, brain scientist.

I was letting the place get to me. I felt I was entitled. I felt I had the right to be in a foul mood but you need a reason to be foul so I let the place get to me.

"Fuck him. Fuck this place. Fuck everyone." The listener knew he wasn't included in everyone, he also knew that everyone actually only meant a few select people and maybe some assorted strangers.

I decided I had enough so I pulled out my pay stub to see how much unused carry over vacation time I still had because it was about to be used. I was lazy so I pulled out a calculator as well. Seventy minus forty-two divided by seven equals four. Four days of vacation I have to use before the last day in the month of June. I tossed my calculator back into the top drawer and noticed someone left me two three packs of chewing gum. It's well known that I usually have a supply of chewing gum, but I haven't been keeping it supplied recently, someone resupplied me.

I then opened my overhead storage unit, like I do everyday I'm at work. In the overhead was an assortment of candy bars. It's also well known that I will occasionally have some candy on hand, although I haven't been buying any lately.

Some times people will make donations to the gum and candy cause but usually it's just one or the other or they will leave a buck or two, sometimes it's junk candy or just a pack of gum with a note bragging about who did what.

Today I was surprised. I was grateful for the gesture but the person I'm guessing to be the anonymous donor really doesn't sample the wares that much, it was a generous act.

Little things.

But I'm still taking four days off next week

***

The boss walked over and asked him a question. The question caused him to lash out at someone on vacation, at the way the department is run, at people's use of overtime and other things. They were all things I wouldn't disagree with but his outburst wasn't helping the matter. The boss just walked away from him after someone who overheard the original question tried to offer a solution, the blow up didn't end though.

"This place will drive you crazy." I heard mutter.

"Too late" I thought to myself.

***

I find it mildly amusing that payola is a legitimate word.

over at dictionary.com in the definition for payola it suggests that one sees the word crapola (to help understand the -ola part). At least crapola is labeled as slang.

***

"I was going to quit last night but then I talked myself out of it."

I wanted to say something but I ended up saying nothing. I wanted to say that I couldn't blame her if she did quit. I wanted to say that I would miss her if she did leave. I wanted to say it's tough to work in a place where you don't like anyone. I wanted to say something but saying them across the slightly crowded bar didn't seem right.

There are times I want to talk to her outside of her place of employment but I think her jealous boyfriend might have a problem with it. I also might have a problem with the change in relationship. The bar that is between us during our conversations maintains more than a physical distance.

***

"It doesn't take a brain scientist to figure that out."

I heard that and just shook my head.

Could a rocket surgeon figure it out?

***

What's it mean when you check your blog identity email eight times more than your flesh and blood identity email?

***

I was mostly just walking around because the sun was shining I had a glimmer of hope that it would brighten my soul. It didn't, but in my traveling I passed a McDonald's and for some unknown reason I made eye contact with the guy asking for money. The guy is usually there, that's his spot.

"Hey buddy, could you hook me up with a dollar?" I reached into my pocket for my bills.

"Thanks alot, man" he said as I pulled the paper money from my pocket. I looked over what I had. I remembered the five wrapped around the four ones. I forgot about the ten and the twenty, I got from the ATM earlier that day. I pulled a single from the larger of the small stacks and passed it to him.

"Can I have a five?" he asked as he reached.

I laughed a syllable worth and said "No"

***

I continue my walk which brought me to a rally for CORI reform. Ex-cons felt they are being victimized by having the label ex-con attached to them. They are having trouble getting jobs, obtaining subsidized housing, securing loans and the like. They were saying they paid their debt. They just want what everyone else has, to be able to live the way they want. They seemed to be saying that without reform, they are destined to go back to jail.

A former heroin addict was there, she said she has a dream to become a teacher. She wants to teach children art but she can't until her name no longer shows up on the Criminal Offender Records Check in fifteen years.

I had a hard time sympathizing with their plight. I had no doubt that some where caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. I had no doubt that it's difficult for those with a criminal record to try to continue or to start a different life. But all I could think about were those people I know who chose to commit crimes; the ones that broke the rules of society, of morality, of decency on purpose; the ones that said playing by the rules was a thing for suckers.

"It's part of the price you have to pay. You could have played by the rules but you didn't" I said out loud but so that no one could hear.

Not a very forgiving attitude definitely one lacking love. I'll work on that tomorrow.

So, I'm a little irritated and I have some time so I swing by the bar where I haven't been for a few days.

"Timmy, here try some of this" the waitress says.

It happens to be lotion that smells pretty. Pretty like a girl. Before I could object it is being smeared on my right index finger knuckle. I only worry slightly that it smells like a girl because no other woman will be smelling me tonight and if a guy says anything I'll think some shit up.

But then my phone rings for the third fourth time. It's Lady G with some computer problem.

"Where are you?" she asked

"At the bar"

"Well, when you're done come on over."

So I smell like beer and a like a woman has been on me.

I'll just tell her that sometimes I just like to smell pretty.

So...

that's all I got

No post on a Tuesday night kind of bothers me.

My three year old niece likes to say "Just kidding, Timmy" quickly after she does something questionable.

Sometimes I'll just look at a blog and not read it. I'll let my eyes hit the page and get a feel for what's written, sometimes my eyes deceive me, but often my quick look is close to what's written. There are times I just don't want to be moved by words. There are times I just want to be entertained. There are times I'll save reading them for another day.



My mom was telling a story the other day about my sister's pot belly pig.

"We have some land in Vermont and we would vacation up there and the pig would come along. Well, there is an apple orchard next to us--"

"By apple orchard she means a crabapple tree, there may be two of them." I coldly interjected.

The point of the story was to give a real life example of how the pig will overeat to the point where it is uncomfortable for him to lie down. His legs will sort of stay up in the air much like that of a dead cow taut with gasses caused by decomposition.

My mom further went on to tell that the pig farmer down the way in Vermont raised black pigs and that there was some traveling butcher as well, so that we had to be extra mindful of our pet pig.

Later, my sister asked me if that anything our mother said that day was true. I felt my mom's stories were true but mostly just to her even though they where inaccurate.

My father had a knack for exaggeration as well. I think both of my parents would sometimes see things better than they actually were, not out of a need to puff their situation up but because they enjoyed what they had. They had a kind of gratefulness that can see two crabapple trees by the side of the road as an apple orchard.

Our 'cabin' in Vermont is actually just a large shed - for another example.

We did build it from the ground up, windows, door, metal roof. It's twenty feet long by twelve feet wide with a roof that peaks at twelve feet high or so.

I think one of the main secrets that I try to keep is that I don't really have any secrets worth keeping secret. I'm guarding an empty treasure chest.

Within the five questions there was the word 'folks' three times so I made fun of it.

"I wrote those questions" my sister informed me.

"I say folks a lot too but it's still funny. I wonder where we picked that up from."



Nobody will ask, be he'll tell everything he knows even when he should keep quiet.

Do you like making trouble for yourself?


"Nobody is going to be looking for you. You think you're more important than you are." We were off the clock but sometimes emergencies come up and that day had a vibe like something might have come up. He kept checking his phone to the point that it irritated the bartender and caused her to comment.

"I have to work hard to make the department look good. They would have trouble getting someone to work like I do."

"Not to diminish what you do because you bust your ass most every day but when you got back from your three month leave, was there a pile of stuff that you had to deal with?" I asked

"No"

"If you or I were to leave, what we do would just stop being done. They would use the excuse that they don't have anyone to do those things and they just wouldn't do them. Nobody really cares that you bust your ass as much as you do. What's it got you lately?" There was a pause before I added "They only care about them. They are more concerned with them not looking bad than they are with you doing a good job. They just don't want to get bad phone calls, they don't care about the good phone calls. You have to do a good job for yourself because you're the only one that cares. If you do it for them you'll go crazy because they don't really care. Screw them."



Funerals in my family actually get a little loud. I think the laughter coming from our side pisses of the mourners on the other side.


She hasn't worked for us in quite some time but she would call me from time to time, usually for business, sometimes to bash the Republicans. She dropped by her old office today. It's still my old office. I never told her that I don't have any problems with Republicans, my problem is with this administration.

"You're a good man. Come here and give me one." I assumed the 'one' was a hug due to the motion she made with her hands, and that's all she got.


I haven't figured out yet if he's just playing dumb or if he is actually dumb. People expect less from dummies, it's not a bad ploy.

She was doing her homework with the help of the live-in babysitter. I was resetting mouse traps for her mother. We were all in the kitchen but I was no more part of the scene than the Calphalon cookware hanging from the pot rack.

"You're almost finished. You just have to do your reading."

"I'll finish it tomorrow."

"You have to finish it tonight. It's just a poem."

"I don't want to."

"But you have to."

"Okay" she said as she started to read silently.

"You have to read it out loud."

"I can't read poems."

"That's okay; just read it like you would anything else. You don't have to worry about the timing."

"But I can't read poems."

She ended up reading the poem. I forget which poem it was, I wasn't too impressed with it but it was a favorite of the babysitter, or at least that's what she said.

I remember being angry at some unknown someone for making, or at least letting, this little girl think she couldn't read poetry.

cracked with wise

"That one's cracked" I said and pointed to the pint glass in front of the guy next to me. She dumped the beer out of the glass and looked.

"I don't know Timmy I don't see a crack" she said as she examined the glass.

"Are you doubting my abilities?" I asked as she still rotated the glass around looking for the break. "I've only had one shot so far" I offered as a reason on why my statement could not have been wrong when just then she saw the crack and tossed the glass into the trash.

Later, I moved to my favorite seat, by the taps. The keg kicked sending Bud Light foam spewing from a pint glass. She emptied the glass and started to clear the line of foam.

"You'll probably check this one too but I think that one's crack" She spotted that crack right away.

"What are you on glass patrol?"

"I'm just letting you know my eyesight is pretty good for the next time you assign me to nipple patrol"

"I'm surprised you remember that" she said with a laugh.

How could I forget?

"Here he is" I overheard him softly say. He was making certain that particular things were being tended to. He is high up the chain of command.

"Even if nobody was here Brian is entitled to take a lunch." the assistant at the desk stated

"I know that but if nobody was here, I would call and get someone."

"Just out of curiosity, who would that be?" I asked

"Well, first it would be Ed."

"Ed's not in."

"Well, then I would call you."

"What if I wasn't feeling well?"

"Then I would rub your back, try to make you feel better"

"You know, I'm kinda comforted by that but I'm also freaked out a bit."


I picked up The legend of Johnny Cash. It was eleven bucks. It has twenty one songs. I wanted it for awhile but I'm sure I have all twenty one songs somewhere over various CD's so I couldn't really justify it in my own mind but then I heard a friend singing Folson Prison Blues so I bought it and burned him a copy.

I frequently forget what I write by the next morning or more accurately I forget what I publish and I forget what was deleted.

Posts and counter posts alone with the unposted.

"You can't do that" I will hear.

"Oh, yeah. Watch me" is the message my grin will convey.

Proving people wrong is a greater motivation for me than proving myself right.

I hear his young voice speak as if he knows it all. I always smile as I wish I could be around when he learns the truth the hard way. I sometimes think about trying to set him straight but he will have no interest in listening to the likes of me.

"Sometimes I can't stand that guy. He thinks he knows everything." I will be told with a nod towards the door to which the guy had just walked out. I will just shrug my shoulders. You can either get angry with fools or you can laugh at them. Sometimes being angry just takes more effort than the person is worth.

...

The front page of the paper has a five year old girl sitting in her two year old wheelchair. She is crying. She is in the wheelchair because someone was angry and decided to express his displeasure with lead. Unfortunately, he could not properly use the .38 handgun that sent a bullet through a three year old's spine while she was playing on her third floor deck. "What he did was wrong but I still forgive him" she is quoted as saying.

I can forgive violent outbursts of anger. I have a harder time forgiving outbursts of stupidity.

His intended victim can still stand tall.


...


I'm kinda glad I don't know who's in there I thought to myself as a variety of noises could be heard from the stall and then his cell phone rang that distinctive ring.

I forgot that title no longer works now

'Many times' was an exaggeration

as in

"I don't technically agree but there are many times when I'll try to get a person angry so that the truth will come out."


I have not done it in years and I only really ever did it when I was dealing with two certain preachers, and usually only during church business meetings and that was only after I found out they would talk behind my back and never to my face.

the Aquarium is also two blocks that way

"Where's a good place to get fish?" One of the two guys visiting on business asked. His question was to the bartender who deferred the question to me. I did not know anything about the guy except that he had tough luck. Boston is a seaport town. Boston still has a fishing fleet that shows up everyday and drops incredibly fresh fish off the some very fine restaurants. Boston has some world famous restaurants that cater to the fish loving market. The guy's tough luck comes in because neither the bartender or myself enjoy eating fish and put on the spot, out of the blue, we both can up empty as to where to get fish.

Eventually, the bartender tells them of a local restaurant chain that is supposed to be very got at preparing seafood for consumption so, she tells them to try it.

"Timmy, where's Legal Seafood." the bartender said rejoining me into the conversation.

"Two blocks that way." I said as I point in that way's direction.

"And we'll be able to see it just by walking two blocks that way?"

"Yup, it's right next to the Aquarium."

"We just got here. We don't know where the Aquarium is, either."

I genuinely found the ignorance of his implied message amusing; I just smiled and took a sip of my beverage.

I would so use a semi-comma if there were such a thing

It figures that I would be my own 9000th hit. I was also 8999 from a different IP

today's word - yarn

He started to tell me his story and even though it only had just began it seemed to go on and on. I stopped listening and once I noticed he stopped talking I said "That's quite some story" He said "It was a yarn"

so, he asked a question which required a discrete answer so I softly told him the answer.

"What?" he asked.

I leaned a little closer to him and repeated myself.

"What?" he asked louder than before.

I rolled my eyes and thought about what my reaction was going to be. I wanted to let him know that first his question irritated me and second that if he could not discern that I wished to keep things quiet than he was an imbecile. I, however, chose to just repeat myself yet again.


I am in desperate need of a haircut. I would prove that fact with a photo but I am lazy.

I use too many contractions according to some so I will stop using them just to prove I can.

I think contractions are great things. I think they are like comfort food. It is a casual affair, most of my writing is, and the joining of two words in print much like you would do in conversation gives a laid back feel as long as you are not hung up on proper writing convention.

I actually do not know what proper writing convention is but I do know contractions are frowned on much like the use or misuse of semi-colons or run-on sentences or the misuse of conjunctions or switching between verb tenses.

Maybe I should take a class or something.

You may be thinking that I cannot give up contractions, that I use them too much, that I am addicted to contractions and that I would get the shakes if I were to forsake them but I can give up contractions. I only use contractions because I like what contractions do to a sentence and if my use of contractions started to be a problem I could give them up lickety split. I could stop tomorrow. I could. I really really could. Really.

Anyway, I need a haircut. I was going to get it cut last Saturday but then I had to work. I could have worked and then got the haircut but the other choice was to go to work and then go to the bar for lunch. By my need of a haircut you can probably figure out which choice I made.

I drink too much, according to some. I could stop but...

not for all and all for naught

I'm not certain what was up with last night. I got home at four in the morning. It would have been earlier if I hadn't been goofing around on the internet.

But what does that matter to anyone? Folks all over the world work into the early morning hours and this tale of woe is self inflicted.

My tales of woe are lame. I have lame woe. I'm not asking for great woe. I like my woeful woe.


They say that kind of stuff builds character. They say those kind of things change you. Those things and that stuff just made me angry. It was costing more than I wanted to pay. I told them to keep the change.

velvet Elvis impersonator

"Don’t ya love it?" he asked as he held up his velvet Elvis

"It looks more like a velvet Elvis impersonator"

angry words are usually heartfelt

so many people want to be seen but they don't want people looking at them.

"He's hard of hearing and his listening is even worse."

so many people want to be heard but are afraid of being questioned.

I've heard that the opposite of being scared is to be angry. It was explained that if you are scared you will turn and run but if you are angry you will stay and fight. I guess often fleeing and fighting are considered opposites so the motivation for both things must be opposites. I don't technically agree but there are many times when I'll try to get a person angry so that the truth will come out.

If it works sometimes I'll hear "I didn't mean to say that."

Yeah but is it true?

inside but always looking out

I'm not certain why I make things hard on myself. I don't think it's some kind of penance. I don't think it's some kind of revenge against myself. I don't think it's self hate. I don't think I'm trying to prove something to myself by making things hard so I can conquer them.


…

Little g was presenting her cultural heritage as part of a school project. When I arrived in the auditorium a lot of her family were already there; I was greeted as a member.

Outsider said a voice in my head. I turned my imagined back on that voice in demonstration that I was ignoring him, that I wasn't going to waste any time even discussing it with him even though I felt his word rang true.

After the allotted time was over, I said my goodbyes and followed Lady G to the parking lot. She was fetching something from her car to give to her mother. I was leaving to head to the second job.

"Where are you parked?" she asked.

"Are you over there?" I asked pointing to the left noticing a car that looked like hers.

"Yes"

"It looks like I'm the next spot over from you."

"Didn't you recognize my car?"

"I must have been in a hurry"

Small talk accompanied us to our vehicles. I waited for her as she searched her car for what she wanted.

"Thanks for coming" she said as she hugged me harder than I hugged her.

When are you going to trust her? that same damn internal voice asked.

As soon as I can figure out why she loves me

This one I remembered

Man

I forgot to title that last post.

I've been trying to put a title on all the posts, mainly just for shits and giggles.

I say 'man' alot 'cause sometimes I think I'm too profane.


We were hanging around finishing our beers after the Red Sox won their opening home game. Danielle walked behind the bar to begin her shift, flashed me a winning smile and said "Hi husband" which caused a bit of a stir between my friends and the other bartender. Soon after, another bartender walked through the door for her first day.

"Who's that?" one of my friends asked me.

"She's new. Today's her first."

"What's her name?"

"I don't know. I've never see her before. I'm not that good. Give me at least five minutes."

I watched to see how Danielle was doing. She had a sparkle in her eye that I haven't seen in awhile and I could only notice it when she was talking to the other bartender. I was glad to see it.

I didn't actually stay long enough to get the new girl's name because I was in for a long night as it was already.

Usually, this is the time I would type some stuff out but right now nothing is coming.

...

"She's the only one here I tell things to anymore and that's only because she's as sweet as can be" she was talking about the co-worker that just had left to buy cigarettes. "I have no use for talking to anyone else."

I did not know what to say, so I said nothing. It is a tough situation. She is in effect dating the boss.

I know what it is like to feel like you cannot talk to anyone.

No one has full access. I keep to myself for the most part. I offer different little views to different people.

...

I actually do not like centipedes so when I noticed that one was trapped in the Q-tips container in the second floor bathroom of my second job's office, it took me a moment to decide what to do. Centipedes can sting according to what I have heard and read. I really had no desire to add any first hand knowledge to the information I knew.

I've seen centipedes in the upper bathroom a few times before usually I'll just leave them alone. This one was trapped and I knew that the ladies in the office would not get any pleasure out of seeing it trapped right there on the vanity counter. My plan was to flush it down the toilet but getting it out of the Q-tip container without dumping the Q-tips out would have been tricky.

I really didn't want to spend alot of time on my little liberation endeavor so I just tipped the container over and let the little bugger run away.

...


I've heard it said when pruning a shrub to visualize how you want that shrub to be and cut off what you have not visualized. Unfortunately, once you get past the leaves sometimes the branches are doing all sorts of weird things and if you cut off what you don't want, some of what you do want goes with it. Sometimes, you can't prune a shrub to the vision you have, sometimes you need a new shrub if you're not willing to compromise your vision.

There are moments when I want new shrubs but those shrubs stay because they have been there a long time and I can't blame the shrubs for growing like they did; they were not told any different.

...

I think I need a real girlfriend.

She wore it on her middle finger and showed it off

The nearest gumball machine whose location I could remember in my part of downtown Boston was a bit of a hike from where I was and I wasn't certain there would be one selling rings and then I remembered that a tourist shop just across the street sold rings with first names on them. I was certain they would have one that said Danielle. I was right. Ten bucks was a little more than I wanted to pay for a joke but I'm lazy.

I set the ring and front of her.

"What's this for?"

"I think we got engaged on Friday."

She smiled "You're right, we did."

"Wait let me see" an off duty waitress who was passing time at the bar said.

"I got it engraved and everything."

"No, you didn't."

"Look, it has Danielle right on it" Danielle argued, she then turned to me "You were funny Friday." She then turned to the three ladies to my right. "I would ask him if he was drunk and he would say 'I'm getting there, thanks to you'"

Friday, most likely, I was drunk.

Almost an hour after I arrived I asked for my bill but she wouldn't give it to me. She told me I could get her on her next shift which will be Wednesday. I agreed that I would but I left money under my coaster anyway. I think she caught me looking guilty.

I think I might be engaged

"Timmy, do you want to marry me?" She walked in and seemed a little heated. She didn't seem to be having a good day. I found it to be an odd greeting. I was standing behind and to the right of one of my friends; it was a rare occasion when I didn't have a seat at the bar.

"Sure, I've got eight hundred dollars in travelers' checks sitting at home. I can grab them, we can fly out to Vegas and be married in six hours."

Later, when my friend was up at the free buffet, two seats further down the bar became available so I moved his beer and myself down to the vacant seats. She came over and told me that someone down the bar said they would marry her and that they had eight hundred in travelers' checks. At the time, I thought she was letting me know that someone was making fun of me. I looked down the bar and saw a regular I knew and just dismissed it as failed humor but later I realized that the place she motioned to was where I was standing. She may have been looking for a confirmation.

So now I think I need to buy a ring.

overtimed

Friday I made a good showing. I left at 11:30 and was home a little after midnight. I collapsed on my bed and regained consciousness at 5AM still fully clothed minus my shoes. I was due back in work in three hours. The alarm was set to go off at six.

The pounding in my head wasn't severe but it was persistent and consistent. I wondered what caused the ache in my head because usually there is no ache. I doubted it was the beers, same as with the Red Death shot, same with the straight shot of Vodka one of the waitresses bought for me, that left the mystery shot from the shot girl, or the Raspberry Margarita that I was dared to drink through a straw as quick as I could. I've had plenty more than what I had the night before so I couldn't say for certain what had done me in but my guess would be drinking a Margarita like a spaz. I cursed the timing of my new found pain. I had said I would show up to help out and not showing up was not an option.

I worried in the shower because there seemed to be a slight problem with my balance and I really didn't want to the period at the end of my life to be proceeded by "Found dead in the shower, was out the night before drinking heavily."

I got off one subway stop before the usual with the hope that my head would clear by the time I walked into the office. Signing in at the security desk at 8:07, I still noticed a bit of a throb behind both ears.

We were there for five hours before we left. He said he had had enough. He asked how I got in and I told him I left my truck at the subway station and took the train in. I refused his offer of a ride back to the station with the excuse of hanging around town and getting lunch.

"How are you doing, today?" she asked not as a greeting after I was seated at the bar.

"This morning was kind of bad"

"Yeah, I was pretty fucked up last night. We all were. Em didn't even make it home and she has to be back here at five."

"Well, you still look lovely." I said to the dark corner Emily was hiding in.

"Lovely?! This is lovely to you. This is real, hair's a mess, no makeup…"

"Yeah but you don't look bad. I've seen you look better but…"

Emily came out and sat next to me while we ate lunch and talked with Jen as she worked the bar.

Emily left about two. I didn't commit when she asked if I would visit her during her Sunday shift. Not long after a regular took her vacated seat.

"I'm not talking too much am I?" the regular, who was talking too much, asked.

"No. Not too much."

"I talk when things are bothering me otherwise I'm usually quiet but then you know that. You're not a chatterbox yourself."

"Nope." I said not daring to ask what his problem was and remembering that he said the exact same thing the last time he was next to me.

"Timmy, how was your drink?"

"It was alright, but you might want to check your sour mix, it seemed a little watery."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I wasn't drinking it for the sour mix and the whiskey was fine."

My request for my bill was protested against and when I was asked what my plans were for the rest of the day I had to admit that I hadn't any.

"Maybe, I'll read a book or something." I offered.

"Screw reading" she said as she placed my bill in front of me. I read the receipt; she only charged me for a turkey club.

Quiet in the back!

"Forget hope. There is only now."

Well, at least now I have a reason to dislike him, I thought. He was a young guy, dressed in nice clothes but he was wearing them like a retard, for one, his shirt was unbutton half way down his chest. I made a conscience effort to forget him as soon as he sat down to the left of my friend but after that statement he jumped right to the front of my thoughts.

"Forget hope?! You can't forget hope. Without hope there is no tomorrow. You can't forget hope" I said across my friend who leaned back in his chair to give me a direct line of fire at the young fool. I received no rebuttal but then he wasn't actually talking to me to begin with.

Coward

From somewhere in the back of my head I heard a voice say "You're a strange champion for hope"

I just ignored the voice.

sometimes I do as they want and not as they say

So, my cell phone rang and the caller id was a number I could not identify but I answered it anyway but I lost the connection. A minute went by and the same things happened so I displayed the number from the received calls list and dialed it on a land line.

"Hello"

"Hi, it's Tim."

"Oh, Timmy. The owner called and we need to make some changes to the presentation."

She told me the changes and additions.

"…and she wants to use 'peautiful* restoration'"

"What?!"

"I know that's what I said so I had her spell it. It's spelled P-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L and I said I guess I learned something new and she was a little surprised"

"Are you sure she didn't mean beautiful restoration?"

"Nope, she definitely said 'P'"

"I'll check to make certain that's a word but over the phone a 'B' can sound like a 'P'"


*peautiful wasn't actually the 'word' she said but she said she was going to check for the word on the internet so I can't post the actual word or she'll find this site but peautiful is an accurate representation.

thought

ful

was the word

only she spelled it ch instead of th

I deal with stuff like this almost daily and at both jobs.

I want to say 'I were' sometimes and most likely I have

my latest writing problems:

I type 'I' when I want 'the'

I type 'me' when I want 'my'

there was another one but I forget

like kind

I'm restless today.

Often, when I send an email I'll want to post some of it. Usually, I don't because it was a private conversation even though I don't care if the recipient posts the whole entire thing proceeded by "This is what this chump said," that kind of happened once and I still think I was right.

The following is the first email I received from someone reading my blog. I didn't know anyone was reading it but her reasons for reading me are the same reasons I read some of the people I do.

I just wanted to write you a little note to let you know that you are a hero.
You do so much for so many people.
Just knowing that someone out there is so kind, makes me think you are a hero.
Thank you for making me smile.
Lady G is a VERY lucky gal.

Thanks.
*first person to email regarding my blog*

I replied.

Thanks, *first person to email regarding my blog*.

I often don't feel a hero because I know there are times I could do more. I worry I do things out of duty instead of kindness. Though this weekend brought some hope, I did some things just to make things easier for others.

Lady G can do better than me and I tell her such, she'll sometimes look around and ask where is the better? I would go out and find her someone but I'm too selfish.

thanks again
-Tim

That's rather innocuous. I still wonder if it's duty or kindness. Her name was Amanda.

1½ x 2½ but two timed

Are spirals always downwards?

I think spirals get a bum rap.

Idiom:
on the bum
1. Living as a vagrant or tramp.
2. Out of order; broken.


I forget what made me think of a downward spiral.


I walked by a yellow three by five card, in the gutter, that had the words 'Your Lord' written on it in blue pen. Four steps later a saw another yellow card with 'Deuteronomy 22:10' written in the same blue pen. Later, I looked up the verse online.

Deuteronomy 22:10
Do not plow with an ox and a donkey yoked together.

I was like "Duly noted"

...

I sometimes wonder who gives a shit even though I know who.


...

I heard someone headed my way, in such a way that I knew they would stop at my cube. I turned around. It was the head of a different division in a different department.

"Did you apply?"

"Yes, I did."

He delivered his answered as he turned and walked away "Good because if you didn't I was going to have you killed."

more money, a boss that's a better fit for me, more structure but I would be doing the same one thing all day long. I could no longer be lazy all day long.

...

having friends that awe easy

A myth is the legend I was

See my new glasses? I thought she meant pint but she pulled out eye

"What did you do before you started coming here?"

"I actually didn't drink that much, just on Fridays."

"Yeah, we're everybody's downfall."

...

"I know I'm on a diet but where's the candy. This is ridiculous" some hot Latina said.

I haven't been buying the candy like I used to, so I went and got some mainly because I like candy and partly because I like pleasing the ladies. She was on the phone when I got back so I laid out the booty in front of her. She picked the Sweetarts just like I thought she would and then she blew me a kiss.

I'm a sucker for shit like that.

Later, she came by my desk and said "You made me very very happy."

She sent a thank you email as well.

It may have been the best seventy seven cents I have ever spent, (they were on sale).


Every time I buy reese's peanutbutter cups I think of what someone once said, which was similar to, if not exactly:

"I would blow my grandpa for those reese's peanutbutter cups"

I think my internal reply was "Listen, I ain't doing your grandpa any favors"

lad's blight, bad light

She talked about her boyfriend and she seemed like she wanted my advice. I had opinions but I kept them to myself. They all portrayed him in a bad light, needy and insecure. I try not to speak ill of boyfriends, first - because it's classless, second - because sometimes I can't be certain of my motivation, third - what the fuck do I know?

Maybe I'm a day late

I'm taking tomorrow off. I hope in doing so I stave off insanity.



He saw the book in my pocket and asked what I was reading.

"A book" I said but then felt bad against my answer and offer the book for him to look at, "It's one of those print on demand books."

"What's that? Print on demand" his friend asked.

"You order the book and they print one just for you. Usually none of the big publishers are involved."

"How did you find out about it?" the first guy asked.

I smiled and said "I can't tell you. It's too nerdy."

Sometimes I just eat.

coattails to fame


I think I have a modicum of skill but that's not why I post. I don't think anyone gets much value out of the time they spend here. I think I just help to pass the day. A joint effort to waste a few minutes; to get three and a half minutes closer to lunch or to quitting time.

I would love to know why certain people come by here more than once. I would like to know, not for some wanting need for encouragement but so that I could learn a little about how those people see.

I heard a tv chef once say that the most important that he was taught was how to taste.

But in finding out why people return would most likely change the way I write, I wouldn't do it purposefully but I'm sure it would happen. It's in my nature. "What would you like? Here it is." My style changed once I found out I had a reader.

Like singing to the car radio with the windows down, everything is free and unrestricted until someone gets within earshot.


I wonder what you are hearing

focus pocus

Sometimes I want to be mad with certain situations but there will be no direction to focus my hate in. It will be just a situation that isn't anybody's fault, there is no one to be mad at so I deal with it.

It's like being in a water balloon fight where it's you and your friends against everybody else and you're holding the last balloon and all you can see are your friends, your balloon is no good to you. You can either hit one of your friends with it, carry it around with you with the hope that someone else will show up or you can just toss it away and bring the fight to an end.

...

http://www.oneword.com
today's word - ceremony

don't stand on ceremony

after that I started thinking

not to stand on ceremony

not to be ceremonious; to be familiar, outspoken, or bold


sometimes I buck the system not because I have a problem with the system but because others seem to fear speaking up.

not all dogs bite

...

It's not my company but sometimes I bleed for it as if it were.

She called to tell me more business was coming in. It was welcomed news but I was a little puzzled as to why she made an effort to tell me; most likely we would have talked to each other the following day. She then said "I didn't want you worrying. I thought you might be worried."

I had been worried but I didn't tell her that.

...


Two things my friends don't seem to understand:

It's okay to do nice things for strangers.

It's okay to do good things for no apparent reward.

write and wrong

it had to be different but it could not be too special

it had to be done with common things but it had to be uncommon

it could not be a big effort

and once I had the medium I then thought about the matter

I'm not crazy about the 'H'

Введите текст на латинице

(I hit the jag spot)

"For a drunk, not bad hand eye coordination" I thought

"Tim, if anybody ever wanted to assassinate you, you wouldn't be hard to find."

"Yeah, but they would have to wait until I went outside because the people here watch my back."

It was like a revolving door of friends Friday night. They would stay for one or two and then leave. Soon it was just me that was left for the early regulars and I ran out of friends that would be dropping by. I started to wonder why I was still there; the weather was great for the season; I had seen everybody I wanted to see and I was hit by the thought that I was wasting minutes of my life that I would never get back, there were other things I could have been doing.

The place was dark and loud at this point. It gets darker and louder as the night progresses, until quarter 'til two when the lights get turned back on and everyone is asked to leave.

My gaze was far away when I noticed the movement. "Incoming" I thought as two pieces of ice were tossed towards my beer. Every once and awhile she'll toss ice cubes, usually she throwing at people but a good portion of the time she just tries to get the ice to land in your beer. I held my gaze on the imaginary distance as one piece bounced off her side of my glass, the other piece bounced off the bar and headed towards my lap. I caught the ice without looking.

I looked up and smiled at her to let her know that she had my attention. She has never been able to get a cube to land in my beer, although I've seen her do it to other's. Beneath the bar, I let the ice slide from my palm to my fingertips and sent it back in a high arc in her direction. She didn't try to move away or even flinch as the flat piece of ice disappeared like a nickel into a slot machine between her breasts.

"That's two for two" I said in celebration but she didn't respond. She didn't even reach for the ice. Doubt started to creep into my thoughts, it was rather dark and I had had a few, I was no longer certain I saw what I thought I saw. I kept a casual eye on her but she just stood there hands on hips having a conversation with another bartender.

"I guess I missed" I thought with a shoulder shrug, as I sipped my beer. When my glass touched the bar, I notice her touch her chest right where the ice would have wound up but she still didn't take it out. "Maybe just an itch" I thought but then she reached down her top and pulled the ice from within and tossed it back at me. I turned on my stool so the ice would sail by me if I missed my second no look catch but I could have sat still. I stood on the rail that runs around the bottom of the bar to look over and see the trash bucket that's between the bin of ice and the refrigerated chest that holds the pint glasses. I dropped the ice into the trash, it was about half its orginial size.

"In all fairness. I have a bigger target" I lied.

"Damn right you do."

I stayed awhile longer, bought a couple rounds for two women, that I wasn't relinquishing my seat to, they first hesitated at my offer to buy them a round. I convinced them the first time by saying that usually people buy me drinks, so that it all works out, for the second round I argued that the two beers where less then the price of a cappuccino at Starbucks. I figured I was at least giving them a story to tell the next day. I then switched over to a Vodka drink suggested to me by a member of the wait staff.

Later the waitress who suggested the drink noticed I had half a glass still in front of me.

"Timmy, don't you like it?"

"This is number three" I said as I held up the Boy Scout's hand sign. I then left when no one was looking, leaving the half a drink there after I paid up what I thought I had for the night, the bill they gave me was light a few rounds. I softly said "See" as if to the ladies I bought the rounds for, motioning towards my bill, they didn't hear me, they had moved to a table.

"I really need to be better than this" I thought as I headed for the train.

…

There's a rut in my driveway that the water flows in. I was washing my truck. I water flowed. My niece was with me. She built a dam.

I was pretty decent at kickball

"Hi Tim. Do you have any tracing paper?"

"No" then I paused a little before I said "I have vellum". I wasn't trying to be a prick, splitting hairs between tracing paper and vellum but regular tracing paper is less expensive than vellum. I really did not want to part with my vellum just so someone can trace.

"I don't need a lot"

"I think I might have something" I said as I remember something and walked back to where the plans are kept. He followed. I pulled out a very large pad of 100% rag tracing vellum. It's stuff I've used only twice in the last decade. I flipped back the top cover which clearly states what lies beneath so he could look at a clean sheet.

"Can you see through it?" he asked as he was reaching for some printed material to place underneath the first sheet.

"It's called tracing vellum" I said, the 'you dumbfuck' was implied.

If I didn't pity his lack of social skills I would have kicked him in the balls. I think a kick in the balls might do him some good. It might make him think "Why did I just get kicked in the balls? Was it something I said? Am I a social retard? Do I come off as a pompous ass to the extent that persons who are mostly friendly want to see me keel over in genital pain?"

He then started to explain why he needed the tracing paper. I just looked at him and let my eyes focus on an imaginary far way point, trying to patiently wait for him to just tear off a sheet and leave.


(I've never actually kicked anyone in the balls)

Houston, we have a problem.

I want to date a girl named Houston so when we break up I can say "Houston, we have a problem."



I don't know what he's eating over there but it sounds a lot like it's pea gravel.

I forget what the actual plan was for last night but I could tell you that going into the second office wasn't on the list of options.

"Hello, Tim?" it's my freaking cell phone who else would it be?

"Yup"

"Can you hold on?" I held on because I thought she had to answer another phone line or something but then someone else's voice came on the line.

"Tim it's *so-n-so*. How are you doing?" at that very moment I was kind of pissed. I hate it when people have other people make phone calls for them, especially when they are people of no important status and second she really doesn't give a care about how I'm doing but I had to address the question.

"I'm doing all right"

She then said some things about an ad that I had completely redone the night before, it took about seven hours and I was up half past midnight to finish it. I was told the owner didn't like the green I used and I was also told that a price change was missed.

I wasn't happy with the news. The green that was on the printed in-house copy of the ad wasn't going to be the green that would show up on newprint and one price change wasn't a big deal for an entirely new full page ad. Also, it was agreed that we would go with the new ad and do any tweaking, for the next week's issue but I was asked to come in and fix it, anyway.

I was steaming when I walked in. I was up against a deadline. I had about fifteen minutes to get things finished and email it to the publisher. If I missed the deadline I would have to call and ask for a favor the next day. The publisher would have no problem with the change but I really hate asking for favors for things that aren't truly important.

I sent the corrected file with two minutes to spare and then stuck around a couple hours doing other things so I wouldn't have to show up the next day. Upon leaving I dropped some things at the owner's desk, I guess she had come in while I was upstairs.

"Did you change the ad?"

"Yes, but that green you saw wasn't the green that was going to be printed."

"It wasn't going to be a kelly green." she said as a statement.

"We talked about that last night. It's hard to tell that the green we used is actually green in the paper so I lightened it a tinge but I changed it back because I didn't have the time for discussing it."

"What about the price change?"

"Yeah. I did that too."

"Don't I get to have a say about the ad?"

Her question surprised me a little. I made the two changes I was told she wanted and I also thought we had an agreement to fix the minor issues, next week. My problem wasn't with the changes but with time. We weren't alone in her office. I had actually interrupted a meeting she was having with another employee. I thought I was just dropping things off and splitting so I really didn't mind just poking my head in for that and she had the door partially open anyway. I hadn't planned on a conversation.

"You're the boss you get finial say on whatever you want. It's your ad." I said as matter-of-factly as possible. She often defers to my personal style on many things, usually I have free reign over design issues but I know the freedom I have is a privilege that I'm grateful for but bottom line - she's the boss. And sometimes, I plead her for feedback when there is time.

"I didn't ask for the green to be changed" she said.

I'm certain she saw the fire flash in my eyes. She knew I instantly had a problem with a certain messenger. I just kept quiet.