Thursday, November 30, 2006


too familiar

"Hey, Timmy. Come here." I walked over to where she was sitting and she motioned that I should get even closer. "Why did your sister get fired?"

"I don't know. I didn't know she was."

"Is it because of him?"

"I don't know but that's the reason I don't deal with her anymore. I work for the city, my younger sister is a school teacher, she worked for some social service, none of us can be associated with drug dealers or users. I told her so but she did her own thing."

"It's too bad but at least you don't have to worry about her."

"I worry a little because she's my sister but the choices she made where her own."

whata I know?

Walking to work today I had this desire to be great, great at something - to put an effort forth that few others would match but I reasoned that I didn't have time to be great, with all that required effort and all.

The few things that raced through my mind of which I wanted to do in a manner great all involved time I couldn't see the likes of me putting forth.

"What about being great at your job? Either or both."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"At least you would have the time."

I then wondered if people get as exasperated with me during a conversation as much as I exasperate myself.

Why can't that voice just go alone to get along? Why does he always have to be a prick? Why does he have to make points which I hate, but agree with?

To my surprise, writing was on the list. I wish to write greatly. I want to make people laugh out loud or quietly sob with just my mere words. I want them to mouth the word 'wow' afterwards. I want them to have to sit and think, rest up a bit before carrying on.


you write what you know
so i think i'm developing an armpit fetish, a hairy man armpit fetish.

That second part isn't true, it just seemed too ridiculous not to type and I mean no offense to those who like hairy man pits. It's just that I don't like 'em, freak.

am I going to be some weirdo's search results for some weirdo search.

I'm going to google "hairy man armpit fetish" right now.


Dudes, I'm trying to listen to a video so shut the fuck up. Why don't you marry each other? We are in Massachusetts.

I need to now something about the new MBTA fees and monthly passes. This video is damn important.
Normally, in cases such as this, I would walk over and just buy a new thumb drive. I actually was in the store looking at a sweet little number that would only set me back seventeen bucks. The thing was tiny. TINY! I say or was that a shout. It was the smallest I've seen so far. It actually has the word tiny in its full and proper name 512MB Micro Vault Tiny USB Flash Drive - USM-512H it's from SONY.

But then that voice chimed in "What about your camera?" Man, I hate that voice. I did forget my thumb drive but I did have my camera and with my camera I carry a memory card reader which acts exactly like a thumb drive. Exactly! I say.

Man! during the research for this post, I've found out that those tiny little USB flash drives normally retail for $34 or so. Now I have to buy one. I'll be right back or since we're online BRB.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah. You can," I said "I'd like one of those," I further said as I pointed directed at what I wanted.

"Okay," the guy said. A guy I really don't like because he's always asking if he can help me and I'm always, or nearly always, saying that I am just looking and because he can't operate my eyeballs and I have no hook-up to his eyeballs - he can't help. Anyway, the guy opens the case because I live in a land of thieves and the item I want is under lock and key, and he reaches for something I don't want.

"Actually, the one next to it is the one I want."

"This one's the same capacity at half the price."

"Yeah, but that one's tiny."

"Which will make it easier to loose."

I certain I went stone faced at that point in time because if I didn't control myself things were going to get verbally ugly.

"I want the tiny one."

"Okay, I was just trying to save you from just loosing it later."

The guy looks older than me (and I'm forty freaking years old), his job is to walk around his branch of this national chain office supply store and pester every person who happens to simply stop walking. And if you do want to purchase something that is locked away, he will escort the item to the front with you and place the item on the checkout counter with care that is similarly shown to the Queen's jewels.

If I cared about this guy's being even one minuscule little bit more, I would hate him but I don't care enough about him to muster up feelings of hate.

My reply to his latest and to date greatest bit of help was to offer no reply. I just followed the item which I wished to purchase to the front of the store, which is actually off to the side.

So, I guess in my zeal I misremembered certain things, like that the tiny flash drive was actually $34 or so and not the seventeen as mentioned above but I still bought one.

It's tiny
"If he keeps it up, I'm going to say it's harassment."

I rolled my eyes.

"I know you think I'm crazy."

"No. It's not that, I just don't think you have a leg to stand on. He has every right to wonder where you are when you're working and he can always say he's starting to crack down on it and he's starting with you and working his way down."

Your boss asking you where you were when you were over an hour late is not harassment.


"No. I can't guarantee that I won't fall in love with you."


He mumbled something.

"Excuse me"




Ten bucks for a cover to that place was steep, or so I thought.
The solution he devised was to make the problem something out of his realm of responsibility. He made the problem someone else's, and when he presented the problem to that someone else, that someone else asked why he couldn't fix the problem by doing something else, and that something was in his realm of responsibility.

"How comes every time I ask him to do something, he puts it back on me? I'm trying to get rid of some work, not take more on."

I just shrugged my shoulders.


"You can take that left."

"I don't know if you can," he said, not as an argument, but as if he was answering a question

"I'm telling you, you can."


I believe one the trumpeters was making eyes at me.


like magic things pop up

We all know the only reason you're walking around is because you are a spy.

Eve Angel is not a bad looking woman

Easy there big boy. and what's odd is that the preceeding sentence had nothing to do with Eve.

I was goofing around, thinking, and I hit the shift key five times in a row and a window popped up and told me that I had just said the magic word to get that window to pop up.

I was excited there for a moment.

it's a short story but it's a long one

"I'm going to stay and get some sun."

I did a quick look to the sky which I knew was overcast, as my right eyebrow went up and the other, slightly down.

"I mean fresh air."

I smiled with satisfaction because I just want him to say what he means.


He never dreamed but all his dreams came true.

All his dreams came true but he never dreamed.

Doesn't one seem sadder than the other?



Dreamette - a brief dream, a briefly lasting dream

Novella, Novelette - a brief novel or long short story

...a long short story - seems a lot like my life.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Five miles of dirt road in either direction, which is a lot for a city boy.

'87 four wheel drive Toyota pickup

hubs locked

push it 'til it breaks

push it when you should have braked.

mountain roads and drop offs

I dropped off

forward was down

backward was up

I refused to go forward

the truck refused to go backward

sideways was the hard reached compromise

live and learn - step one live

lesson learned?
slow down?
no. start blind curve even earlier.
Can you calm the f*ck down? How about that?

Bottom line is that I don't want to be crazy like you.

I tire of his sighing

I want to kick him in his nutsack and then say "Things weren't so bad just a moment before now, were they?"

I've been down that road before

Push it until it breaks and then if there is a next time push it until it breaks.

"What's up with all this broken sh%t?"
"Why don't you ever ask, what's up with all the cakes?"

"Everyone has a story to tell. A lot of people only have their own story to tell. I can make up stories." I smiled because I was just thinking that I was being told a story.

Everyone has a story to tell.
Some stories aren't worth the listening

You can tell me how you got that scar but all I'll believe is that you have a scar.

True, could be true, doubt it's true, not true - prove me wrong. I dare you.

pure heart or lusty soul?

The mean was justified in the end.

Monday, November 27, 2006

So I got to speak to her again and she started telling me more about herself and after about her third story, that voice said "She might be playing you."

"She might be playing me?!"

"Yeah, I'm not saying that she is. I'm just saying that she might be. So keep an ear out."

"So, you had me going all weekend that I mightn't have done the right thing and now you go and say that she might be playing me?"


"And you have no problem with that?"


"All weekend you had me thinking about it."

"Yeah. Listen with what we knew Friday night, you didn't do the right thing and that's the bottom line but now we know other things, so just watch out."

"I hate you."


I never knew I used the word 'quite' so much

So, I hear that Sony digital cameras are sometimes having problems and I worry that my camera is one of the models identified. So, I go to the Sony website and look for cameras trying to find out the models numbers that are having problems but I can't find my model number anywhere.

Most likely because I have a Canon.


Why is my quote of the day something from Kevin Costner?


My fortune for today is:

You constantly struggle for self improvement.

First - that ain't a fortune*.

Second - I don't struggle for it I struggle with it.

*I wanted to type "that ain't no fortune," which is something I would have no trouble saying to someone in person but I just can't bring myself to type it.


She didn't call me old, she just merely stated that those other guys were young but to my surprise it bothered me.


(those three dots get counted as a word)

I sometimes wonder how far from normal I am even though I live my life like I'm normal is everyone else is off the mark.

"Spot on" is a phrase I like to use.


It's not so much that I can't stand the place it's that I have no reason to keep me at my desk.

Freedom beckons and I oblige

Have you ever read the definition for oblige?

It runs quite the gambit, or so I think - to bind morally or to be kindly accommodating.

Like the difference between a hammer to the head and a welcomed kiss.


It's not so much that I can't stand the place, it's just that I can't stand the place.


I sit by the conference room so I get a lot of people milling about and sometimes they will start to talk to each other and sometimes they will stand in my way and sometimes I may get a little rude.


The place was busy, too busy for anything of an average day. We started to guess at the event.

"Maybe they're swearing in new citizens."

"No, the crowd is too bourgeois."

new lawyers taking the oath


"Maybe you hit the speech recognition button by mistake."

"No. I don't think I did."

Well, I think you did especially because it wants you to set up the speech recognition feature.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

I don't look because I'm pretty certain of what I'll see

She was new, or at least she was new to me. She was sitting in the have-a-nice-day guy's place; she may have even been using his milk crates for a seat.

I chose not to really hear what she had to say as I walked by but what I did hear was as statement about the Godiva Chocolatier bag I had. But then how could she not have noticed it? The thing was shiny gold and must look huge as it swings at arms length nearly scraping along the traversed sidewalk beneath it. But I had chewing gum to buy so I ignored her, or at least did my best to look like I had.

In Seven Eleven I was standing behind a homeless looking man counting out change for his Lays Sour Cream & Onion potato chips. Behind him was some other asshole like me wishing he was just hurry up. I peeled two one dollar bills from the roll I had in preparation for my turn at the register and when I looked up, the homeless guy was still determined to find enough change.

It was probably a lack of patience and not a burst of compassion that caused me to start to debate on whether or not to pay for his purchase. The sticking point was that I wasn't next in line, it would be ridiculous to pay for the chips and not pay for my gum at the same time but if I did that, then I would be effectively cutting the line and the guy in front of me didn't look like the charitable type.

My debating ended when the guy finally gave up hope on having enough pocket change and pulled out some bills. I caught glimpse of a ten, two fives and several ones. "He doesn't need my charity today" is what crossed my mind followed by "What about her?"

The cash I had in my pocket was pretty much spoken for, I had an open ended commitment to have a drink or two with a former bartender of mine on her birthday at her new place of employment. I didn't know how much my endeavor was going to set me back. But what I did have was premium chocolates. After I picked out what I wanted at Godiva's the total came up five dollars short of me getting a free box of chocolates. The cashier was kind enough to tell me what purchases were available for that amount. I settled on two of the discounted chocolate turkeys.

From the convenience store I walked back across the street and handed her one chocolate turkey.

"I've got no money to give but I do have this? It's from Godiva."

"Hey, that's good. I used to go to Godiva before I was in this situation."

And before I could get away she told me part of her story. She told me she had done two tours in Iraq and when she returned her job wasn't waiting for her. She said she would have gone back to Iraq but that she knew she would be labeled expendable because she doesn't have kids, a spouse or any other family.

She must have noticed my step backwards because she thanked me and mentioned again that she does like chocolate.

"Yeah, before this situation, I used to come Downtown a lot. I would go to Borders and Starbucks and whenever I could get the chance I would pick up something in Godiva's. I'm addicted to books and coffee, unlike some of the others."

I was looking around mainly so I wouldn't have to look her in the eye. I would look to the left in such a way as to cause my body to shift a bit and I would move my left foot back a bit. I would do the same as I looked to the right pretending to watch out for any pedestrian wishing to use the sidewalk. I had an hour and a half to kill before I could deliver my chocolates but I really didn't want to spend any more time on this particular street corner.

"I should be all right though, after this situation, because I have a lawsuit against my employer. I should end up getting more money than if I had worked but things take time."

"Well good luck," I said as I finished my escape.

I walked six blocks to South Station and ordered a number eight from the McDonald's value menu and then sat and watched the hodge podge of people catching trains or trying to get on the bus. When I got bored with that I pulled out a small notebook and started to hand write a blog post.

I had a hundred words or so before my conscience kicked in.

"You could have done more."

"You didn't even give her both turkeys, or that free box you got. You're out nothing."

"And don't you write for a blog whose very existence came to be for people like her, soldiers who have been let down? Or at least didn't you?"

Then I changed the post I was working on to this one. I wasted time until quarter of ten and then started walking to the club. At the front desk, I asked where my former bartender was working and I was told she was on the third floor. I cut through the floor of pool tables at the top of the winding staircase and read the note on the back door, there was a private party for some high school reunion of some suburban town. I didn't bother to work out the age difference between myself and the party goers that I would soon see, I knew I would have at least ten years on them.

I stood mostly out of place at the end of the bar, my former bartender had her back to me. As she turned around, she greeted me with a great smile and introduced me as her favorite customer from her former place of employment. I placed the bag on the bar and wished her a happy birthday.

Our conversation was brief, I was out of place at that particular club, at that particular reunion and in her particular life. I refuse the shot she offered; she promised me an email as I said goodbye.

On my way out, I thanked the girl at the front, who had told me where Danielle was working and as I stepped out into the mild, late Fall air, I heard "She's eight blocks, that way, if she's still there."

Eight blocks in real shoes; I had been walking a lot that day and I almost never wear real shoes, but the club I had just left doesn't let you in if you're not wearing real shoes. Sometimes, I make sacrifices.

"Eight more blocks in real shoes is not a lot, and you didn't spend a dime in there. Everything in your pocket is expendable."

I grinned at that nagging voice's choice of words. He's good. I hate him.

During the walk back, I wondered if I could post her story, maybe even get a picture. I worked on an opening line: "Hey, I sort of write for blog that came to be because of soldiers like you. If you wanted, I could post your story."

As I got closer I relocated a twenty to the left pocket of my four hundred and fifty dollar leather coat, a coat I received as a gift. I still worried about how to approach her. I've been careful all this time not to get too close, all my other help has been through a third person, I've avoided saddened eyes, broken bodies, damaged minds and injured souls. I've done quite well in not getting any on me.

I was half a block away when I could see someone still on the corner. I remember thinking that she hadn't seemed so tall while she was sitting, but it wasn't her, it was some other guy that I've never seen before.

I didn't get his story either.
So, I'm trying to listen to what my bosses are saying but I have some jackass droning on about some foolishness and he's drowning out all the good parts.

"Listen, you jackass. It's the day after Thanksgiving and you're a waste of payroll anyway, nothing you can be saying is important to anybody so just hang up the freaking phone."


It doesn't seem like a heavy drinking day but I never really know until I start to drink. Sometimes, I can drink all night long.
Sometimes, I can eat all night long.
Sometimes, I can eat and drink all night long.
Sometimes, I can't do any of those.


For every victor there is a loser. Sometimes, I wish not to make losers.

I wish

I wish


I am judged differently than others.

It's that good guy image I portray.


I was surprised to see either of them there and quite surprised to see both of them there together.

One said "Hi, Timmy" and the other gave me the finger. And then for good measure all the bartenders, former and present as well as the wait staff, all said "Hi, Timmy."

I didn't expect to see one of my buddies there but seeing him was no surpris; I started to talk to him.

"Hey! You get to see him everyday," Lauren yelled at me.

"Well, I thought with the whole disappearing from MySpace thing and dumping all your friends, I figured you were done with me."

"Hello! I was being stalked. I'll send you a new invite."

And then she started to talk to her real friends again. She was interrupted when someone told her she was about to be ticketed. She ran out and moved her car.

While she was away Emily sat in the empty seat next to me and turned to face me. She was wearing a sand colored top and white sweat pants; you could still see all her curves.

"I'm sorry for wearing my pajamas."

"I kind of like it."

"Without all my boobs hanging out?"

"Your boobs hang out? I hadn't noticed."

About five minutes later Lauren returned to the same illegal parking spot she had just moved from. She rushed in told Em that they had to go and left out the back door.

Emily waved and said "Bye, guys," as she left.

The phone at the bar rang about seven minutes after that, Jen answered said "Okay" and then hung up the phone. After she was done pouring beers she said "Lauren says 'Bye'"

"Dave, I guess we were wrong about Lauren after all those years with her bitchy attitude and flipping us off, she's really a nice person."

She actually is a nice person and I think she doesn't like people knowing it.
I feel like sometimes I'm gypping my readers but then I think if they come by more than once than it's there own fault.

Hey, it's something to read. I'm like to blogs what rice cakes are to the snack world.


"Is the paper--"


He was going to ask if the paper for the plotter was the same as for the large scale copier. He has asked me that question at least four times before.


Little set backs seem to throw 98% of people off track. Little set backs are work throughable. Little set backs are fixable. Little set back just cause minor delays. Little set back are those two mosquitoes at your cookout. You don't cancel your cookout because of just two mosquitoes.


Sometimes, my decisions are based on me not wanted to be labeled like everyone else gets labeled. I am that anomaly.


Maybe I'll do all my thought breaks with the running word count.


Maybe not


"When's that last time you have been satisfied with anything?"

I was asked that Thanksgiving Day. I'm still thinking about the answer.


Opps, I mean


I'm the spaz that always has all the necessary office supplies at his desk. Red pencils are probably the most common item to be stolen borrowed, followed by rubber bands, tape, stapler, engineering scale and then black sharpie.

"I come here because you always have what I need."

I always have what you need because I'm careful to make certain I always have what I need.


If you ask me where I live, my default answer will be the neighborhood I grew up in but before I will erroneously say its name I correct it to where I live now.

hence the delay

297 (301 after the edit)

So I guess that's one problem with the word count thought breaks other than the main problem of it being lame.

I say I don't but I do and not enough - editing.


I often prove I'm merely mortal.


I'll often bend at the knees while I'm picking stuff up so people don't get a peek up my short skirts.


Where the heck did that come from?


I mean

So, at times I'm like: "is this thing still on?" because sometimes I've got nothing to say. Well, I always have nothing to say but usually I can type out that nothing into a few dozen to quite a few hundreds of words. Other times...

I just wanted to start a new paragraph and I actually started typing on this very line I only got to the 'o' in other but then I told myself "that's no place for a new paragraph" and I agreed with myself so I hit the backspace key three times and started typing the word 'other' and even typed the word 'times' when I then told myself "Screw that. This is my blog and proper formatting be damned."

Okay, maybe it was a little less elegant and a lot more profane than that but I try to keep this a family show so that's the version that will go to print. (yes, sometimes certain four letter words will make it by the censors but it's usually only after 9PM.


Other times, I can't come up with anything to type. I'll open up Word and watch that little impatient flashing cursor tapping out, in some sort of shorthand morse code, "I'm waiting."

I like the word count feature, before this sentence I had 192 words according to Microsoft. I wonder how accurate that thing is?

...Contractions count as one word.

(I only counted the first forty-eight 'words'.)


I wonder why I give a shit crap about how many words there are. I don't have any word goals, I have no quotas. I'm pretty sure there is a post in the archives some where that is just one word.

Sometimes, I worry about myself when I'll just type html code right into some post I'm typing. Because what kind of dork does that?

Unless, you're typing code out regularly then it's not dorky.


h e l l o = five words. It must count blank spaces that have at least one alphanumeric character to at least one side.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

So, I showed him what my request was and then I showed him pictures of what happened in the field.

"I was told there was a conflict."

He picked up a photo and pointed to the conflict, "Yeah, right here."

"Yeah, no shit, but show me where I requested that."

Why would I be pointing out a mistake I made unless I prefaced it by saying "look at how retarded I am"?


"In Roman numerals what does a zero mean?"

"There is no zero in Roman numerals," I said as I got up to see what the hell he was talking about.

The cover page on the advance copy of the plan had "Capital Improvement Plan No. 0 X-XX" written on it.


Would it make a popping noise if you ever do pull your head out of your ass?
So, hopefully all that complaining is over.


"Hey, if you go for take out, I'll pay for yours."

"Yeah, what's in it for me?"

"Um, I'll pay for yours."


Sometimes, I check my blog to find out when things happened.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

I find it just very ironic that he sings in the office and makes fun of the guy that sings in the market.


She threw lime wedge at me the last time I was there and then threw one at my friend or so she claimed after that one hit me too.

She said the fruit throwing was because I haven't been coming by. So, I dropped by for a ginger ale and something off the specials menu. I still wasn't quite right after staying up of thirty six hours and I just wanted to sit and eat.

We were carrying on two conversations: one when the bartender/manger was around and a different one when he wasn't. When the manager went to check on something in the kitchen, she asked about Danielle. I told her that I've only emailed her and she asked about what I said. I told her that I planned to go to her new place this up coming Friday because it's her birthday.

She then gave me her number and asked that I give her call if I do go to see Danielle but then she asked for my phone and she added herself to my contacts.

I caught her gaze which she held as she told me that she likes scratching lottery tickets too. For some reason I keep forgetting that she has light blue eyes.

he ain't the only one that hopes

They all think it's a simple thing to send a print job to the printer to do its job but it ain't that easy.

"It's still printing, huh?" She asked as she came in at five in the morning.


"And you were here all night."


"Without any music or anything?"

"Well, I did have my iPod going for a little but you have to listen to make sure the printer doesn't jam. You could loose an hour worth of printing if you don't."

This is why I get cranky when everyone waits until the last minute to do things, there comes a point when it's just me that has to be around, staying up the whole night.


"Someday you will be rewarded."

"When? When I get to Heaven?"

"Um, really? I hope you make it."
So, I wondering why my left triceps is bothering me, then it dawned on me that I was stapling while sitting down.
"You should put your name on these or something."

"If I put my name on them, then people would call me."


It's all about f.u. money but you see, I have no money which includes but is not limited to f.u. money. So, I do a lot of things pro bono; a lot of in kind donations. I do it for free because then people can not complain that they aren't getting their money's worth.

We ended up using the vellum for the cover. I wanted to use the inside back cover for something, just because I think it's neat, someone suggested a poem. I thought a poem would be cool, kind of like a little whispered treasure to be found on the inside back cover but I was dealing with folks who like shouting over whispering so we placed it on the back cover bold as brass for even the dimwits to read.

I was told I could put in on the inside if I really wanted to but I didn't think they deserved my brilliant design schemes. I'll probably do it in the version I will save for my portfolio.

this really is a thousand word waste of time

So, those invites, the ones I did about two weeks ago, were for an event that happened yesterday (which was Monday). For those of you not in the know, two weeks lead time on an invite is not ideal; I believe three weeks is the minimum and six weeks the max. The non ideal lead time wasn't a problem I could fix because I was only given the finial information that day.

Anyway, that was two weeks ago, which left two weeks to get the program set and printed.

So, ten days go by, I knew I would be doing the programs but that's all I knew until I was told that they wanted an eight page program. For those of you not in the know, most run of the mill programs are simply one sheet of letter size paper folded in half which produces four pages and usually the back page is blank, so eight pages wasn't a good start; eight pages means staples. We scheduled the Thursday before the Monday event to get the program set.

When we met Thursday, things looked promising, there were a couple people around and there were a few items already typed up. When I'm laying out anything to be published, what I like do is to get everything on the page and then make decisions of design, such as font style and size and placement on the page. I got three rough pages done and when I looked for more, I was told there wasn't anymore. We all left early with the plan to show up the next day.

I've been doing these things for quite some time know; I've learned how things shake out so after my day job instead of showing up to work on the program I went out for a beer. I think I was drinking a Margarita when my cell phone rang. I was told that 'we' were still waiting for information and that 'we' wouldn't have it all until Sunday. I was asked when I could show up for that day; I said noon.

I should up at midday on the day before the event as planned. I was the only one there. I reworked some of what I had, when I got more items by fax; people were avoiding me. I placed the items.

At four o'clock people showed up. Earlier, I was told someone other than me would pick up the paper for the job; no one had. When I mentioned that stores close early and we had to start to worry about getting stock, I was asked to get it. I inquired how many programs would be printed so I would know how much to buy. I was told two hundred.

The first office supply place I went to, didn't have enough of the paper I liked; I still had plenty of time before the six o'clock closing time so I went to the next one closest. While I was looking at paper stock I got an ideal for a design change. Before I left I was told that we should do the best we can with the program because the event had taken on a greater significance.

The design change involve the use of vellum. I didn't know where the vellum would end up in the booklet but I would figure that out once we had all the information placed roughly on its page.

When I got back with the stock, I was informed that the booklet might need to be twelve pages. For those of you not in the know a fifty percent increase in page numbers isn't something you wish to hear after the material are purchased and the stores are about to close.

Fortunately, this wasn't my first go-round, I've been there before. I had enough stock. The day was spent with information trickling in which would then be typed, cut and pasted into the working layout, printed out as a drafted and then proofread. We were doing this until half past midnight.

"After this we're done," I was told after the last of the information was gathered.

"No, it isn't. We still have to worry about page placement and design."

I think everything all the paged were placed, proofed and formatted by one o'clock in the morning for the nine o'clock event. I started printing the now three hundred copies when I was asked how long it would take. I timed the copier at three copies per two minutes, someone told me that they figured the printing would be done by five.

It takes nine hundred sheets of paper to print three hundred copies of a document that is comprised of three sheets. The copier only holds five hundred sheets. It was decided that folks would go home and return at five. It didn't need to be said that I would be the one monitoring the printing until five.

Two people showed up at five, I had already stapled and folded one hundred and fifty programs and had enough parts to assemble one hundred more. We finished at quarter to six.

I left to try to get some sleep, I figured an hour and a half might have been possible. When I got to my bedroom my six o'clock alarm was still going off. I was lying in bed debating on whether or not to set the alarm for eight o'clock when I my cell phone rang. Someone was asking where I was. I said that I was at home and that the programs were finished. I hung up, decided not to set the alarm and risk falling hopelessly asleep and miss the event.

At seven my cell phone rang. I was asked if I could bring my camera to take some pictures because it was worried that the person given that job wouldn't show up.

I showed up to the event at quarter of eight. It seemed slightly strange when I was handed one a program by one of the ten year olds holding them in baskets. I staked out a place behind where the news camera were being setup. I figured the pros would know something about getting good shots.

The field of view behind the video camera was good but my little camera could zoom in enough for the shots I wanted so I snuck into a vacant seat up front. I sat next to one of the Board members who had just a few hours prior was helping with the programs. She leaned over and mentioned that she thought it was slightly humorous that she herself didn't get a program. I reached into the pocket of my black leather coat and handed her my program.

I took a couple decent shots and a few less than decent.

I skipped out on the reception.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Sometimes bigger hurts

I don't sit on the floor much because it's only potential trouble, but sometimes I'll be waiting of something or someone and start using the computer at the desk of which I'm sitting.

I was in such this predicament yesterday so I fired up Explorer and started reading the online local paper and the thing was freaking huge. Somehow it hurt my eyes it was so big so I went to the setting for the monitor and changed it to something less cartoonishly large.

That happened twice, if I had to wait longer I would have checked all seven computers.
She kept asking me if I was mad which kind of made me mad.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Oh, and I sometimes drink root beer

As you know, you don't get a lot of personal stuff about me here and sometimes I feel quilty about that so, in order to try to make it up to my faithful readers, I will tell you something that I don't think anybody in my flesh and blood life knows.

That secret thing is: I own two long reach staplers and prior to today they have never been in the same place at the same time.

The Swingline staples better but the Stanley has a much better guide.

Saturday, November 18, 2006

my nerves have a high iron content

We were scratching lottery tickets, just like we were last Friday. Last Friday we hit for $65 and I suggested we get 65 quick picks for the Mega Millions game, which was over one hundred million dollars. Of those sixty five numbers, two won money for a grand total of $9, so I donated another dollar and bought $5 scratch tickets.

We didn't hit but she wanted to play some more so she took a twenty from her tip jar and asked me to get more. We started winning enough money which we used to get more scratch tickets.

"So what would you do if you scratched for 5 million?" Jen asked.

"I would probably quietly put it in my pocket and walk out then call you on the phone and tell you we just hit for five million."

She thought for a moment. "Yeah, you're a pretty calm guy."

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to let everyone know you just hit because then someone might follow you," my most reactionary friend added.

Damn straight, whereas you would be jumping up and down showing every body and then when you leave end up penniless and dead in a ditch as someone runs off with your scratch ticket.

When what's let of the money, after the grubby hands of the government get through with it, ends up in my bank, then I'll celebrate.

We scratched tickets my whole lunch hour and we were still winning so I went back after work and then proceeded to finally and completely loose. I think we both ended up spending thirty bucks. It was fun while it lasted.

and 98% smartass

"This is great! How did you do that?"

"Well, you know, I'm 40% magic."

(but it was kinda cool)

Another goodbye at the bar

I hadn't been seeing much of her, her shift was changed and my drinking has been on the decline.

I first met her when I was trying to buy one last shot for my normal gang of bartenders. They were placing shots in front of me every time they decided they wanted one, I think we were up to three or four when I decided to have one last one and then find my way to the subway station. I couldn't get anyone of the bartenders I knew to do one with me and I think I did what ever it is that a manly man does that's equivalent to a pout, or maybe I just whined. I forget, but anyway after I asked for the second time, Jen said "Lan na will do one with you," I remember thinking "I don't want Lan na to do one with me. I want you to."

I guess I get pouty when I'm drunk.

Anyway, the scene I remember is that Jen poured the shots, handed one to me and then called to Lan na and said "Here do this with him," as she pointed at me. Lan na then saluted with her shot in my direction. When we both were finished she said "By the way, I'm Lan na," and laughed.

I saw her the following week and we talked a bit. After that, I would make it a point to occasionally stick around until her shift would begin at eight on Friday nights. I got to see her approximately once a month.

I would always get a large greeting from her and one day when she saw me she pulled a hard covered book out of her backpack and said "Here, I got this for you. I've been carrying it around for two weeks," it was a book of works from various print designers. I had little choice but to love her.

For the last few months, her shift was changed to Thursday nights, a night I work at the second job, so I hadn't been able to see her. Two weeks ago, when I was celebrating Veteran's Day with Jen, she told me Lan na gave her two week notice and that her last day would be November 16.

Last night was November 16th. I finished the second job by 10PM and drove home. I was literally pulling into my driveway when I got a call from Lady G; her kids had just been in a car accident eight blocks from my house, she asked me to met her at the scene. Everyone was alright, the car suffered a busted up passenger side front. I took some photos and then followed them all home.

I told Lady G how I thought the insurance companies would call the accident: bottom line the other guy ran a stop sign. We talked a bit, she gave me a leather coat as part of the 40 days of birthday celebration and I left.

I glanced at the radio clock the blue LED's indicated that it was seven minutes until eleven. It started to rain. Lady G lives pretty close to my bar. I still had a box of Godiva Truffles in the back of the truck from some recently failed surprise. I drove to the bar.

I thought the place was crowded for a rainy night and I looked through the window before I went in to make certain she was working. I had my license in hand as I approached the bouncer outside the door. He glanced down at it but wouldn't take it, he said "You're all set," I smiled and thanked him. I then took a step up towards the door and heard "There's a five dollar cover." I was reaching into my coat pocket where I had placed a twenty for just this charge when the bouncer behind me said "Kevin, he's all set." I turned and thanked him again.

It was a struggle to get to the bar and it was even harder trying to catch a bartender's attention. Their eyes would never make it past the first row of patrons. I remember thinking that every one at the bar was an asshole and patted myself on the back for always making room for someone to get to the bar when I'm seated at it.

But my good bar manners weren't getting me any closer to who I wanted to see so I was devising another plan when I saw Lan na make a move towards the pass thru.

The pass thru is located to the left of the taps and no customer is supposed to be in that area because that is where the waitresses pick up and place their orders. But I'm special, I get certain allowances and most of the staff knows me by name. I matched Lan na's progress to the pass thru. I thought she was going to the lady's room which would have caused her to pass right by me but she just ended up grabbing some silverware and turned back so I called her name.

The wait staff was generous in sharing their space with us.

"I hear it's your last day."

"How'd you hear that?"

"I've got people looking out."

"Yeah, it is. I figure it's time to move on become more stable and to procreate."

"Well, I've got something for you." I handed her the large gold bag with the two toned box of varied chocolate truffles. Other than a smile I ignored her 'procreate' remark, although it was difficult.

"You know? These folks don't care it's my last day," she said as she pointed with her chin towards everone at the bar. "Thank you. I haven't been getting to see you lately."

"Yeah, Thursday is tough for me. And I'm glad I could make it. I didn't think I would."

We were interupted by Jen screaming "Timmy!” from the other side of the pass thru, "You drinking?"

"No, I'm driving," I said as I looked Lan na in the eyes for the first time that night. They looked a little glassy and a bit tired. I was going ask how she was doing when I heard Jen yell something again.

"Are you working tomorrow?"

I apologized with a half shrug to Lan na before I yelled back "Yeah."

"Are you coming by?"

"I don't know. Jill won lunch for ten friends."

"Oh, that's okay. I don't need to see you every Friday."

"So if I wanted to catch you here, Friday night is best?" Lan na asked.

I wanted to tell her that I'm not around much anymore but I just agreed. She then left to get a pen and pulled some receipt paper from the register. She gave me her phone number and handed me a small piece of receipt and asked for mine.

I turned a bit to write on the counter by the mostly unused coffee maker. It was too dark to see what I was writing so I wrote by feel. Once I was done I held it up to the light.

"Can I read it?" Lan na asked as she closely looked over my shoulder while placing her right hand on my right lower back.

"I can," I said as I handed it to her.

She hugged me a third time as we said good bye.

On the way out I caught that bouncer's eye as he was checking ID's and thanked him once again.

Walking back to my truck in the stillness that happens after a hard rain I could smell her perfume on me and I felt certain I wasn't going to see her again.
I replay events in my head, and actually that what this blog mostly consists of.

Obviously, a lot of things don't get posted because I just don't have that kind of time and also because some of it puts me to sleep when I start typing it but anyway, the point is I think about the past, frequently.

I went to check my interoffice mail slot because I wasn't getting enough email to entertain me and on the way back I started thinking about yesterday.

I've been having trouble dealing or not dealing with my recently constantly crazy supervisor. He isn't getting on my case or anything but he's making some bone head decisions mostly because he isn't listening properly. It's like he has Alzheimer's.

So, yesterday while we were at coffee with two other friends I said something referenced by 'As a friend,' well the guy nearly went into crazy mode and the only reason he didn't was because he would have proven my point then and there. He took offense at my statement, like I guessed he would, so to get me back he made his own 'As a friend' statement.

Walking back to my cube, I thought how he tried to hurt my feelings by his statement and I just smiled because he greatly sucked at it. He caught me smiling and asked "What's up?" I said "Nothing."

Dude, say whatever you want. I welcome all comments because either they are true or they are false and I know how to handle both.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

I remembered that I got the thought for a post from one of the sites I read but I forgot the actual thought so I went back to the site and then remembered the thought but then I got a new thought...

I just had to check an Eartha Kitt song that was playing on my iTunes.

...the new thought was 'screw it. I don't want to post that' so I didn't.
I called her to say that the note cards were ready. She then overly thanked me, not for the note cards but for most things in general. I never know quite what to say because agreeing that I'm the greatest doesn't seem to be the right thing.

After, the storm of her gratitude answered with my platitude she mentioned that my sister teaches her daughter math. I felt a bit uneasy even though the kind statements were now transferred to my sibling's teaching abilities. I wish to be mostly unknown.

I wondered how it would have come up that we were brother and sister - my last name must be slipping out. I'll have to find that leak.

hallow, hollow, hallo

He was touting the virtues of competing for a win, praising those who have at least tried, those who dared to reach for the thrill of victory - these were heroes for risking loss.

His assumption seemed to be that all those who do not try to win, do so because they are afraid to lose. For some reason I took his article a little bit personal even though I'm fearless of losing.

I was irritated at his rational and angry that he was calling me a coward just because I often chose not to participate. I wanted to tell him I'll often step up when the odds are against me, when losing is expected. It not the losing I fear, it’s the winning.

I often find victory fleeting and hollow despite all those yeah-sayers patting me on the back.

Most of the time when I'm going for the win, it's not to prove that I have the best skills, it's to prove that everybody else's skill isn't the best. I often don't to play to win, I play to make others lose and there is very little joy in that.

I'm probably the biggest loser with a winning record.

So, Mister Columnist, I am not a coward; I'm an asshole. Please try to get it right in the future – maybe with a footnote or something.
"As a friend..."

That means I'm about to rip you a new one.


Sometimes, I run into actual ho's when I'm out working. Only one was pretty; she was young. I wanted to buy her lunch but it was too early for lunch.

I wanted to ask her why. I wanted to know what she would need to stop.

I knew I didn't have the means for change.

I noticed her just that once.


I said something he didn't like and he rose up from his seat and reached across the table at me. I just watched him as he stopped his reach just short of halfway denying him any reaction.

It's hard to frighten me by reaching violently across a table. It's not really possibly to deliver a solid blow while bent over a table and usually a scooch back puts you out of harms way. And even if they do get a hold of you, the leverage is to your advantage and of course you can always just stand up and rain blows down upon them.

Sometimes, I will almost dare someone to lay their hands on me because sometimes I have a lot of anger to let loose.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

I can't see your screen, you called me on the phone

I don't always know where all the commands are because I'm not afraid of looking and I'm a pretty good guesser or maybe because my subconscious keeps track of those things anyway, if you call me on the phone and ask me technical questions you may hear something like "There is a sort function somewhere."

"You see at the top where the columns are, the A's, B's and C's?" I asked.


"And to the side you have the rows, the 1, 2 and 3's?"


"Well, where the columns met the rows there is a blank square. Hit that and it should select everything."

"Ok. It did."

"Now just sort by last name."

"No. It's not working. Every time I tell it to sort the last name it just selects the last name."

"Once you select everything and you tell it to sort, you have to tell it what column the last name is which is probably like column D."

"Nope it's not working. It's just selecting the last names."

I don't have all the menu items and commands along with their locations memorized, surprisingly as that may seem. So, I opened up the spreadsheet program at my day job to find out where things were.

"Select everything," I said.


"Now from the top, select Data and then Sort."


"Now just 'sort by' whatever the last name column is."

"Which is E."

"Yeah, sort by E."

"Okay it did it. I've never done that before."
I got a paper cut last night. It's been over six years since I got a paper cut and with all the paper I handle that might be saying something.

I wasn't my cool collectedly calm self when it happened either which kind of makes it worse because instead of an erroneous hand movement, it was faulty brain movement.

And it was card stock. I remember thinking 'I thought card stock was too thick {to paper cut}'

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

3927 words for November so far
7854 projected total
280 words a day

2146 words short of ten thousand

spare change on the loose

She held out her frayed edged cup as she said "Spare change." Her tone wasn't as a normal request but more like she was calling for her lost dog.

I didn't see any dogs bound over to her in the forty five minutes I was there. I did wonder if she could have caught any of the falling leaves in her paper chalice if she had wished.
The state inspection sticker blared a big number 10 and seeing that it was now the month of November, he was certain he would get pulled over. He was upset that someone had let the inspection sticker run out. He's been pulled over for that violation before and he didn't like being put in a position to get pulled over again.

He spent half the morning trying to find a ride back from the garage and cursing the way the motor pool is handled. After he returned to his desk, he got a call, it was the garage; they called to say that the inspection sticker expires in October of '07.

It's hard to work up any sympathy for you when all your stress is self induced.

The mystique must be gone.

Returning from lunch, I found a note that asked for information. It was pretty clear cut and simple but I sort of tossed it aside because I didn't like its tone. I probably read too much into it but still, even though the request was in my job description, I decided to hold off on filling the request.

My supervisor, who wrote the note, came over to me and explained it. I felt that the reply of "Yeah, no shit?" would have been inappropriate so I remained quiet.

So, recently, I've had the word 'vital' and a rather simple note explained to me.

But then I did originally spell the word mystique m-y-s-t-i-c and if I could have then figured out how to spell the word mystic other than mystic I would have kept it alone.


"Hey, we're going to have a bake sale. I know you like to bake."

I actual do like to bake but not for bake sales, I would rather just hand over a wad of cash and call it a day.

I forget the year

It was New Year's Day and late enough in the early morning for folks to be up on a welcomed day off from work. Things had been hectic but somehow it was all pulled off. The quiet hung on this day of rest.

There wasn't much food in the house except parts of a left over chicken from two nights before. Someone suggested that chicken salad be made but a search of the pantry produced no mayonnaise.

As luck would have it I remembered seeing a recipe for that particular condiment in one of the cookbooks around. The ingredients consisted of: egg, oil, lime, salt, and vinegar and thanks for my passion for Gin and Tonics there were limes in the house and we usually have all the other ingredients.

I pulled the food processor from the top of the refrigerator and drizzled the oil into the rest of the ingredients while the metal blade spun a clockwise whirlpool of mayonnaise-to-be. Two minutes later it was finished. A minute before that, I was finished with mayonnaise.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

I tend to judge people but it's mostly just so I'll know how to handle interactions with them in the future. I also try to guess how I am judged for the same reason.

She called me, she needed some checks for some certain things to be filed. She quoted the owner and said that these filings were "Vital" she continued by saying that "So, it's very important that they get done."

I afforded myself a smile.

They started to talk about real estate. The guy to my left was saying that real estate is usually the safest bet for investing. The guy to my right was saying that it was too risky. I judged the guy to my right to be someone who tries to talk himself up into something he is not. He was talking about issues to impress the guy to my right; the trouble was that guy was a heck of a lot smarter than he appeared to be.

I smiled at the situation and when Lefty caught my grin he asked what I found so funny. "Nothing" I said but the guy to my right said "He knows a little about real estate. Don't you, Tim." My smile got a little bigger. My friend to my right just made the whole situation even funnier to me by throwing me under a bus.

I usually don't like to argue serious things at the bar but I was sort of called out so I was game.

"Well if you spoke to someone in the Eighties and suggested that they invest in real estate—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm talking about today. What's happening now."

I nearly laughed while he gestured and told me to whoa.

"Yeah I know but you just said "Twenty years from now," so if you want to look twenty years into the future, I can look twenty years into the past." I looked to my overweight point maker to see it he was following me. His eyes had a slight bit of a glazed-over look and he was silent. I chanced that he was processing information. "Twenty years in the past is the Eighties. Real estate crashed in the Eighties but today house prices are three to four times what they were back before it crashed. Real estate might drop but it will increase if you can wait it out. In twenty years it tripled, after it crashed."

"That's the problem, 'if you can wait it out' there are people who have overextended themselves and have three or four properties that they can no longer afford."

"So sell some! You can't blame the market for people overextending themselves. You can't blame the market for people's poor decisions."

"How many properties do you own?"

I held up one finger. He just shrugged, dismissively.

"I'm not going to overextend myself."
I don't mind being asked questions, just don't question me.
She then started to explain some fashion tips to me; she had missed my subtle sarcasm. The truth was I hadn't been clothes shopping for quite some time, and there were some items I needed but I just let her tell me things that I already knew.

Sometimes, I just like to hear her voice.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

you see the rumors are true

no thanks is necessary because that's just what legends do.

I hope the rumors haven't stopped
I understand but I don't like it.


I'm used to taking the hit, if the choice is between me and a friend.

I really don't like taking hits, it's just that I like it less when a friend takes it.

I'm not afraid to use any email address I have

Hi Danielle,

How are things?

I saw Tony Sablony in Quincy Market while Dick and I were having a coffee and he came over and chatted with us for awhile. You came up in the conversation and Dick mentioned that you "work someplace down the street" now. And then Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out an ad for F e l t from, I'm guessing, the Improper Bostonian.

I thought That's just a little bit odd* and then Dick asked where F e l t was, so, I tried to tell him yet again where it's located and Tony said "I'll tell you exactly where it is" and then reached into another pocket for a business card which had the street address for F e l t written on the back.

Tony's worried that F e l t is just one street away from "where all the h o o k e r s are" on LaGrange Street.

I haven't been at *the bar* too much other then when Jen is working but I have heard from some of your regulars that you are missed. I know Tony, Dick and I miss you. Dick pointed out that you would always make it a point to talk to us whenever we came in and the new girls don't do that. The good times are over.

Anyway, I hope life is going your way.


* but then I can't really say too much because I'm sending you unsolicited emails.


HI Tim!

Things are so good. Much less stressful than the snake pit. And before I forget none of your emails are unsolicited. Your emails are the only good emails I get. I swear (except for what's new at SAKS Fifth Avenue.)

Tony is too funny I have his old map so I could find my way from Hanover Street to *the bar*. I keep little things like that.

Just last night I called Jen and asked if she had seen you and she said yes on Friday but she was tired and cranky cause she had expected me to come through the door and I didn't.

I speak with her and Lanna and you and that's all I care to keep in touch with. Although I better send Tony a Christmas card he might come looking for me.

Right now I have Friday and Saturday nights at F e l t and I do private parties. So it is good, I only work from 10 till close and the money is great. Some of my Friday night customers have come over to see me from *the bar* and Jen misses me and that so nice to hear. Billy's dad still calls me and he asked to take me out to lunch next week. Hahaha he doesn't like the company Billy's been keeping. He's so funny...kinda like a Tony but 15 years younger and with the times much more. He is very glad im away from those nuts he told me. From what I hear those nuts still are talking about me but I think its hilarious.

I'm still waiting to hear from *some college*, my application went in Oct.15. I'm getting pretty nervous about it so im starting to begin my other applications. They 're all due around jan. 15 so im gonna start on those next week. And that's it really.

So whats new with you? Hows Dick? Still trying to work harder than everyone else in the Co.? Just kidding he's a funny guy. I am planning on coming in next friay to visit Jen but ill make sure to email you my exact plans before I do. Maybe we can do lunch. You me and Jenny like old times. Oh and I tried the chicken saltimbocca for Steven the other day from the cookbook you gave me. Awesome recipe now that spinach is safe.

Love ya,

Write back soon

these later days of future lure

I've been called the phantom of the office. I've been called this because I often will show up when nobody is around, do what needs to be done and then disappear into the wee hours of the morning. Not too unlike those magic cobbler elves that would help out that kind old cobbler during the night. Only I've got no magic and at times, I'm probably a little more gruff than those elves. I'm more like a cranky gnome than I am a magic elf.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

But I digress

After she walked away, I thought about how I would write about her. My thoughts started off nicely and politely but then I thought: I would drive any train with a nice caboose.


I ran out of gas last night.

And I'm not talking about how I hit some wall from working too many hours at two different jobs. I'm talking about gasoline.

The low gas light chimed in yesterday and I paid it the usually lack of attention because it comes on way before the white colored needle touches the red colored 'empty' line. I've been here before and have driven to and from the second office to home twice after the pale orange little gas pump shone forth from under the speedometer.

(How come we don't say that word speed-o-meter? Or maybe you do. I don't.)

Anyway, I figured I had two trips in the tank so I drove and parked. The spot I got was on an incline and as I was just about to cut the engine, it started to buck. I thought maybe a tune-up was needed and then I thought nothing of it.

Until, I tried to drive back home.

The truck started but sounded like it was choking. I thought once I get it running, that it would be fine. It wasn't. It stalled. I thought maybe the air filter was clogged because a few months earlier my lawn mower had done something similar an it needed a new air filter. I popped the hood, found where the air filter went and hoped that it truly was where the air filer was as I pried it opened. It was indeed the air filter but even with the filter disconnected the engine wouldn't start.

I checked the time. It was eleven at night; too late to call friends but not too very late to call family. I thought the worse. I thought, even though I knew I was low on gas, that my truck needed a truck doctor. I called my sister to come pick me up and I asked her to bring the lawn mower gas just in case.

As I emptied the gas into my tank, I worried that I was just wasting gasoline that I would have to replace later because when the snow falls, the lawn mower gas becomes snow blower gas and although it hadn't snowed yet, I surmised that someday in the future it would.

About two gallons went in; I cranked the engine and got nothing. I cranked it again and got the same results. Then I cranked it good and long and got nothing again. I figured the good news was that I wasn't a jackass and ran out of gas because only a jackass would run out of gas when he knows the 'low gas' light is on. The bad news was that my truck was broke.

I sighed a bit and sat a bit wondering to which place I could push my vehicle to where I wouldn't get too many tickets. No place was close or even known so, I cranked the engine again wondering how many times one was supposed to crank an engine that wasn't starting when I got a slightly different noise.

I smiled a bit as I called myself a retard for possibly just running out of gas and also for bothering my sister. I cranked it again and the engine roared to life.

So, now I need more mower gas.

He is Tony

He's retired from the place of which I'm currently employed. He was also a regular at the bar and a big fan of Danielle. He was my only rival to Danielle's 'favorite customer' title. At the very end there, after three or four years, is when I think I finally edged that old man out.

I haven't seen him much, mostly because neither of us has been frequenting that place. Today, while I was having coffee with a co-worker who was also a regular, Tony walked by and we called to him.

Tony's been retired for seventeen years; he must be in the ballpark of eighty years old but he still gets around pretty well. He's always telling me about the going-on's of other places around. Our conversation happened upon Danielle. It was pointed out that she would always talk to each of us whenever we where there and today the bartenders no longer do that.

Sometimes, I miss the casual relationships the most.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

the invite people were nice and polite when they spoke to me - cause I'm a bully

unconventional rhythm

Sometimes, I'm bold as brass.

I was just handed forty dollars. It's part of that whole sometimes-you-have-to-let-people-be-nice-to-you thing...

It's part of that whole "sometimes you have to let people be nice to you" thing.

I like the quotes.

He's clueless.

I'm a 'no shit' wonder

"I need an eraser. A white eraser for erasing stuff from mylar," he said as he was helping himself rummaging through my drawers. He got the right drawer on the first try and there bright as day where three white erasers but he closed the drawer anyway.

I just turned away.

"Do you have one?"

"You were just looking at all the white erasers I have."

"I need them to erase stuff on mylar."

"These are the ones I use. This one, that one, they're all the same. You can use the blue one if you want to."

This really isn't a good day for being stupid around me

I'm a 'no shit' wonder.

she had tooth

I have no problem with people liking me but I do have a problem with people loving me. I always think they are making a mistake.

Except for that nearly toothless crack whore, it was alright for her to love me but too much crack ended that.

and really that not what the boss said either

I don't get intimidated too easily and I don't let folks push me around so when I got a panicked phone call from the office that stated someone needed the invite emailed right away. I simply said that it was not possible and I told them why.

I was asked if there was any other solution; she sounded scared. She works for the owner and not for the charity requesting the invitation. I didn't hear the request first hand but what I do hear, from the office assistant, makes me think the requester was rather adamant about it, possibly even pushy.

I responded with a diatribe that could be best summed up as "Screw that bullshit," and told her to feel free to pass that message alone.

"Tell them you spoke to me, you tried, and I said it can't happen right now."


"No, that's not true."

"Oh, I didn't know."

Then why are you talking like you know?


"The boss wants to have a meeting with you about the design you came up with."

"I didn't design nothing. I just draw shit up."

"Well, he said you did it and--"

"I drew up what he told me but I 'came up' with nothing."

"Well, anyway he wants a meeting."

"I think it's too much paint--"

"It's less paint."

"It's less paint to put down but it's more paint in one location. Have you ever tried to walk over twenty four inches in paint? When it rains and that gets wet, it's going to be slippery. I don't like it."

out of order

Maybe old age is catching up with me.

Maybe I'm losing heart.

I'm weary today.

I was lying awake before the alarm was set to go off.

"I don't think I got any sleep."

I got home at two and turned the TV on for about thirty minutes.

"So, you've been lying awake for three and a half hours?"

That didn't seem possible so I surmised a got some.


So, boredom hit kind of heavy and when that happens I have a couple options available: suck it up, do some work, get a coffee, go for a quick walk, visit the ATM or buy a CD.

I went to buy a CD, which I promptly imported to iTunes. I listened to it and was unimpressed so I went to get a second CD which I also imported.

Boredom is pricey.
So, I got a call from person number four that will have their grubby little hands on the mailing list. She said she followed my instructions and found the list. I ask her some questions and find out she hasn't found my list because my list has a field that indicates whether or not I had printed an envelope.

So, she looks about and some more and find my list for real this time.

"Can I add your name to the file name?"

"Is there a reason you can't leave it like it is?"

"Well, it's just similar to another file name. So, I thought if I put your name in the file name we could find it better."

"I hate when people do that."

Hate is a strong word but it may be accurate. What happens when she changes the list? Is she going to put her name on it too? No personal names in the file name unless it's a file about that person. But she persists; I wrote the file name out, I ask if the file name is not what I wrote. I'm told that it is but there is also a file with the exact same name except that there is a comma added. I don't believe it but how much can I argue? Supposedly she's looking right at it and I'm just on the phone.

"So, can I rename the file? Put new or something?"

That's another thing I hate. What happens when you make corrections to the new file? Are you going to put newer in the name?

"Can you rename the old file?"

"Yeah, I'll do that."

I just want to complain but my fingers are conspiring against me. I'll start to type out some rant and then my finger will find the backspace key and erase it all, one gawd damn character at a time.

"Naw, I don't want to type that," they will some how say.

I would like to say "Screw you fingers" but I afraid they will not let me say that.

1:22AM – I must be teaching myself a lesson.

Tom Petty is next up on the iTunes I Won't Back Down

Which will be following Kieran Kane's Cool Me Down

I need to go home after that.
where's my joy?

Monday, November 06, 2006

Saturday, November 04, 2006

So, of course there was a slight catch. They wanted custom note cards as well. I found out, by coincidently, a note card. I called the requester to find out what style but I couldn’t get through so I made folding ones.

After cutting the cards, I folded a couple to show as an example. I was just going to leave the folding to someone else when I remembered what happened the last time I ended up leaving the folding to someone else.

As usual, I wasn’t given any quantities for the note cards, and when I thought I wasn’t going to be folding them, I made more than needed.

I was lamenting a bit on the fact that people don’t take the time to fold things properly while admiring my own folding technique. I surmised that a lot of folks haven’t had to fold a lot of things on a regular basis, being a preacher’s son I got my practice folding church bulletins.

After fifty note cards I cursed myself for being a bastard. I thought about just leaving the other half unfolded but I envisioned crooked cards.

I should really stop making things hard on myself.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Post secret

I sometimes worry someone will roll me and take my camera because I'm so drunk I can't defend myself.

pride and big tips

So, there is this free buffet at the dive bar I go to, every weekday from four to seven which is greatly convenient because I get off of work at four.

So, anyway, I'll really don't go up but my friend always does. He bring back enough to share but I'll rarely take anything.

I'll rarely take anything 'cause my family was poor.

Hand-me-downs, government cheese, WIC…

I've never had it bad but there were times it wasn't good. I was five when I was fishing Boston Harbor, not for fun but for food. We picked blueberries in the Blue Hills for the same reason.

I collected cans before there was a five cent deposit.

"Aluminum cans don't have seams."

"Aluminum cans don’t rust."

We found some seamless cans that had rust. My father in his desire to make a dime collected rusty 'aluminum' seamless cans. The scrap metal guy wouldn't take any rusty aluminum.

I don't remember how many Saturdays we wasted picking through trash cans. I remember one day when we cashed our hard earned cans in, we got twenty two bucks. My dad brought fresh fruit with the money from some pushcart vendor.

I remember wondering how much we just got hosed.

I drive a truck. Whenever I have a can of soda or something, I'll toss it in the back of my truck. It never lasts more than two days before someone takes it.

my love has always been dangerous but then when isn't it?

So, I may or may not hav had a couple too many. But then I think even though I've misspelled 'have' I did properly use the word too.

I get to the second job which this week is the first job because I'm off from the regular first job. I get to the second job by way of the regular bar. I met friends for lunch and I met friends after work.

Margarita's again.

I find corrections to the invite which I expected because I omitted the name of the organization from the mock up.

I was in a hurry.

So when I was called about the invite I volunteered that I forgot the name. The corrections included adding the name and the logo. I thought 'fair enough.'

Did I mention I think I drunk?

Anyway, I outlasted my friends because they have lives. Lives or wives.

I walked by where Danielle now works but I was too casual for their casual dress code. Which I totally understood. The guy was cool about it and I learned a little some thing. Vans and jeans and a hat and six days of growth for facial hair is okay at the dive bar I go to regularly but at a club it's just a bit too casual. I thought about faking that I was a poet and getting all indignant but my heart wasn't in it.

Note to self: dressing like a vagrant is far beyond what clubs call casual.

How many times am I going to use the word 'too'?

I'm in love with the word too but don't let too find out.

I partly stuck around because I expected her to show up.

She didn't.

I don't know how many shots on comp I got.

Here's the deal: I have to add the organization's name and logo and print out at least two hundred invites. Well actually it's one hundred double invites which I'll cut in half. And actually I always do some extra so it's like one hundred twenty five.

This post is actually just to gauge my sobriety. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

I'm needy sometimes.

I think I've got a handle on things now. I'm going to make some tea.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Flat stock

I got to the second job earlier than usual. The plan was early in early out. I was on the first floor showing someone something when a large manila envelope was dropped off. It was addressed to ‘Tim’ and it was from someone whose name I didn’t recognize.

The staff pretty much knows the routine. Few people know about me, I keep to the shadows. The receptionist opens the envelope and brings it to the owner. Before I return to my upstairs office, I ask if I should worry about the contents. I didn’t get an answer but then I didn’t need one.

I was getting ready to leave when the owner called to me from her office.

“I’m going to need invites.”

“When do you need them by?”

She hesitated before she said, “They were hoping to do the mailing this weekend. I’ve been asking them for a week.”

“How many do you need?”

“I don’t know. I asked them for a list and this is what they gave me.” She pointed to a stack of papers, some were greeting cards. “I had someone working on it all day.”

“A thousand? Five hundred?”

“No, not that many. Maybe two hundred.”

“How fancy do they need to be?”

“They can be like you did for the Christmas event.”

“I don’t remember what that was.”

“It doesn’t have to be embossed or anything.”

I told her I could do it.

“I have to work on the wording. We’re you planning on coming in tomorrow?”

“Now, I am.”

“Can I call you when I have something?”

I just nodded.

I’ve known her over twenty years. A lot of people don’t like her. She sometimes asks a lot of folks. The trouble is: she trusts me and the event is for charity and at the event there will be a dedication for a mutual friend who’s in politics and he’s dying of cancer.

I guess I won't be meeting the guys after work.

from my actions it seems...

I always think I can beat the odds
So, I look at walking on scorpions because Bill posts a lot of interesting pictures.

Some of those pictures caused me to order this:

Photo Hosted at Buzznet

puro muerto
So, I’ll sit quiet sometimes because sometimes I’m clueless. Sometimes I won’t have any answers, sometimes I’ll have to many. “Yeah, but what about this and what about that?” is a common inquiry.

There have been cases were I yinged when I should have yanged so, I try to account for all sides of a situation.

Sometimes, I don’t know what is right, all sides will seem to have a measure of virtue but not all sides can coexist.

Today for vacation I drank my coffee from a different mug.

Photo Hosted at Buzznet

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

One of my tells in poker is that I'll hold the poker chip perpendicular to the table and tap the table twice with it, and then I toss it, when I need certain cards on the draw.

It happens most often when I have two pairs and I'm wishing for a full house.
I have trouble receiving when I have nothing to offer in return.

Partly, I'm uncomfortable with secrets because I usually cannot offer anything in return.