Thursday, June 28, 2007

as long as the lawn ends up shorter than when I started really don't care

She knows how to wear a dress. Well, most ladies do I guess and probably most guys too but her dress was hugging all the proper places that nicely shaped women have.

She said that she didn't know I was in the office as I walked down the stairs. I'm trying to make a better effort at looking like I still care. I do still care. I think my problem is that I want it to be known that my effort doesn't equal my compensation. My level of heroism is not being duly recognized and I would complain about that but doesn't that sound incredibly selfish, petty and ignoble? That's why I kept those thoughts to myself. That's way when people ask me what's wrong, I say "Nothing."

Anyway, when I reached the bottom of the stairs she said "I'm expecting a big loan to come through tomorrow. So, at least I can be solvent again." I said "A loan doesn't exactly bring you solvent," but I knew what she meant even before she explained what she meant.

Big things are in the works which should put the company in the black. I hope I last that long.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

98 or six

It's ninety six degrees out and according to the heat index it feels like ninety eight. I slowly walked across the street to purchase an ice coffee and then proceeded to walk slowly around the market utilizing any shade I could find. About half way around I could feel my head start to sweat.

I was afraid to check what my crotch was doing.

So, the story is:

I almost always walk to the train station but the other day it was going to be the hottest of the season so I drove so I could just hop in my truck and drive to my second job.

I often don't get out in the field much but with people quitting and going on vacation, I've been getting the chance to go out. At the end of the work day, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the key that wasn't my house key and hung it where the car keys get hung.

I jumped onto the train and then off at the correct station and while walking the half block to my truck, I pulled out my key, which turned out to be the key to the company car. So, I then got back onto the train and headed to my second job.

After the second job, I checked the street cleaning parking regulations and found out that I could be subjected to be ticketed and towed if my truck wasn't moved by noon the following day.

You may be wondering why I don't have a second key for my truck because who doesn't have a spare key for their vehicle but my spare one was lost the second to last time I let someone use it for a move and I have yet to get a replacement.

So, the moral of the story is that I'm a procrastinating dumbass which actually isn't a moral at all.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007


It's just a little thing but it bothers me; a lot of little things bother me. It was the second time she asked me to cut the clipped out picture so that it would be nice and squared. The first time she tried to cut a straight line with a pair of scissors, she failed at it and to fix it, I had to cut a lot of image away to bring it back to square. So, when she handed me a second clipped out picture with the same wavy cut at the bottom, it bothered me.

If you really, truly want the thing straight, do not cut it out yourself because you suck at it.

So, once again a lot of valid image was lost to bring the picture back to square.

I hate fixing repeated stupidity. Just so you know.

Two she's to the wind

She called to let me know she went by the second office to sign the form. She also let me know that she was talking to some folks there who said I looked sad. She then asked what was wrong.

It's nothing I can talk about so I just said that sometimes that place gets to me.

Earlier that day I had hinted at threatening to leave.

I made her acknowledged that she would be hard pressed without me which was something we both already knew. It was a hollow victory that later left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Stolen pride is never tasty.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

The flame of love often distorts the true image

They say that love is blind but my heart is starting to see.

My roofing shoes are also my mowing shoes

After I cut her lawn, I cut my own; all three of them. I infrequently enjoy cutting my own lawn. I have to constantly tell myself that I'm just walking in the yard, that I'm just taking a stroll; a stroll behind a 22 inch cut 6 horsepower mower.

Sometimes, it works.

I usally start with the front because I dislike that one the most but yesterday I started in the back and then the side. When I got to the front I could still see the mower lines from the time before; they were in a concentric box formation so I cut the new ones on a diagonal.

My neice came out to watch and run over the freshly cut parts which turned her feet green. She asked why the cut grass was wet and why I was all sweaty.

It's not always an easy stroll behind a 22 inch cut 6 horsepower mower.

my former self

Back in the olden days I used to cut grass for money; mostly for little old ladies whose husbands had died. I never made much because I never charged much; I knew money was tight for folks on fixed incomes.

Sometimes, I would just cut it for free.

Money's tight and her mower is broken and her lawn was getting out of hand. The grass was getting taller than the overgrown hedges.

The old me wouldn't have let her front lawn get that bad but the new me was making a point but the point was I making didn't make the grass any lower.

I had trouble locating my gas powered hedge trimmer and it took me a moment to remember where I left my gas powered blower. I don't think I had used either of them in over three years and it was probably twice that long ago that I used the grass trimmer, to my surprise they all started up with very little trouble.

The grass was really two tall for the mower but that didn't stop me from using it. I stalled it out a few times, choking it on too much grass and stopped it cold once by hitting a rock, at least you can see the rock now.

I used to play the magic elf more often until I started to get in the way.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

I can't be bought for a dollar fifty draft

I told him that he needed to get over himself because I refused to let him buy me a beer because I was leaving but before I left a friend came in which caused the bartender to set a beer in front of my friend and another, in front of me. The other guy said he was offended.

I think the guy is touched in the head so I explained to him that the situation totally changed when my friend, that I know from outside of the bar, sat next to me. I further explained that buying someone a dollar fifty draft is just a mere gesture because a dollar fifty, in the scheme of things, is really nothing.

He quieted down after that be then he bought all seven of us sitting at the bar a draft beer, which irritated me slightly and pissed off my friend greatly.

The guy's a moron.
I wouldn't say I get angry a lot but I do achieve great levels of aggravation.

I have a habit of laughing at people when I think they are trying to get under my skin.


A one way dead end street - that's rich.



I'm a talent.


At least she admitted it last night when I asked her outright.


I need to do more things on the sly.


Remember the old days when things were short and sweet?

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

in between job #1 and job #2

Usually, I can make my own schedule and I banked on that today and then my schedule was changed.

I would love to complain about it but nearly every other day is somewhat flexible so I feel I should take the nearly everyday good with the occasional not so good.

I had to stay at work an hour later than usual too so I could not help her celebrate her birthday like I had planned; things were truncated and it seemed like the AC was broken so I ordered a margarita.

The two guys to my right asked me my name after they watched three jiggers worth of Patron get dumped into a pint glass and then they started asking more questions.

"Do you work in the around here."

"Yeah. I work in the area," I answered.

"What do you do?"

None of your freaking business. I don't freaking know you. "I can't say too much."

"Why all the secrets?"

"Because, hypothetically, let's say I'm down here for lunch, and let's say I'm having a beer…"

"Yeah, and…"

"Well, not every one's as nice as you and I."

And then they guessed I was ef bee eye because they do have an office up the street. Whatever retards, it's still none of your business.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

After lunch she told me to came back with my drinking shoes on

I can usually tell by the second sip what kind of night it could be. I felt it was going to be a quick night.

I can also usually tell how much I can handle on a drink by drink basis; shots are the hardest, you can't slow drink a shot.

"I can't do it right now but give me two minutes…" is not an uncommon thing for me to say when a shot is placed in front of me.

Peter was standing to my right when I was on my second margarita after a cranberry and Stoli razz and Jen was asking me "What now?" I told her something with juice in it and I believe I was called a pussy. She started mixing things and had the other bartenders taste it before she passed a little plastic cup my way.

"That's too sweet."

"You said something with juice; juice is sweet."

"Not grapefruit juice. That tastes like banana candy."

"Maybe I did use too much banana..."

The next thing she sat in front of me was a mystery. It was yellowish and in a martini glass, it tasted slightly like pineapple. I usually always try to keep an eye out when they're mixing my drinks so I'll get a clue on how much extra alcohol is going into the thing. Somehow, I dropped my guard.

"That's about 120 proof," Peter said. I like Peter. I think he's the most mannered man I could name and I think he usually knows what he is talking about but the bar doesn't have anything over 90 proof so there was no way he was accurate on this but I didn't argue.

"Do it as a shot," Jen said.

"Could I get a Diet Coke chaser?" I asked.

"Don't do that as a shot," Peter countered.

"That's a big man's drink," Chad said.

"Don't do it," Peter said.

"Drink it," Jen said.

"How are you getting home?" Chad asked.

I answered him by showing my public transportation pass.

"That's too much alcohol, don't do it," Peter persisted.

"Jen, is this worse than anything I've done as a shot before?"

"No. You've done by far worse."

I appreciated that Peter was trying to look out for me but one of the things I love to do is to prove people wrong about me, so I lifted the glass, laughed a bit because I knew I was about to do something stupid and then put the glass back down. "Don't do it," Peter said again, so I lifted the glass and gulped the first half, when I heard "That's too much alcohol," which made me laugh but I got the other half down as well.

Sometimes, I guess wrong about how much I can drink but with the first sip of soda, I knew I would be okay. I drank about half a glass of soda when Emily set a raspberry margarita in front of me.

"Don't give him that," Peter said

Emily looked at me and I just shrugged and then she asked "Who the fuck are you?" to Peter.

"She's evil, don't trust that one," Peter said.

"What he's going to do is slow drink that while all the ice melts, just like he always does"

I just smiled because Emily was correct. I'm very good at pacing myself as long as no one is backing me up by buying me drinks. She did overexaggerate about letting all the ice melt, though.

I've been going to that bar for quite some time. I know who I can trust and who I cannot. I was starting to tire of Peter being my guardian angel, so I enjoyed my drink as quick as I could while he kept asking me how I was doing.

I asked for my bill and Emily brought over something that total $14.50. I peeled off a couple of bills.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked as I was hiding the money in my lap. I just looked at him with a mind-your-own-business look.

"They are going to think you are a chump."

"Listen," I said as I showed him the bill.

"Wow, they must like you."

"You have to consider what I just drank, I got those three guys back there a round of beer, I had some beer, I had two margaritas, that mystery martini and then this margarita…" (I had forgotten the Stoli Razz and Canberry and I didn't mention that all my drink other than the martini were served in pint glasses)

"Okay, I don't know how much you have in your hand but I would leave $30."

I was pretty certain that he just lied about him not knowing but I didn't call him it, I just fanned the folded bills to show that I only had thirty in my hand. I would have left more but the bartenders get on my case when I do, so I try to keep things at around double what they charge me, and Jen already got a large tip from my friends and me at lunch, so I felt thirty was okay even though the bill should have been over sixty bucks.

I think Peter needs to worry less about me and more about his own business.

And yes four double size cocktails, a martini and three beers are a light night for me on a Friday.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

It's gee dee cold outside. According to the internet it's 57 degrees but it feels more like fifty four. Maybe there's a wind chill.

So, I checked for a wind chill and it said there was none but the wind was at 15 mpg so, how can there be no wind chill with 15 mph wind.

Anyway, it's colder than it should be in June.

Well, that's the end of my story. I hoped you liked it.
I try and not ask "Are you on fucking crack?" of my supervisor too much, but it's hard sometimes, especially when he comes over to my cube carrying emails that he has printed out and is about to hand to me.

I know he knows how to forward an email.
He talks way too much.

I looked over at the slowing Range Rover. The driver rolled down his window and said something I could hardly hear, so I stepped off the curb and next to his SUV. He explained that he left his cell phone at home and that he was supposed to meet someone and he was running late and.... When he finally got around to it, he asked to use my cell phone.

I leave my house and walk to the train station buy a paper and catch the train with very little time to spare. This guy was messing with my schedule. I wondered what was to keep the guy from driving off with my phone once I handed it him, but I offered it to him any way. I felt a little better when he had to get out of his vehicle to get the phone number he needed.

He couldn't find the number so I mentally thanked him for making miss my train for no reason at all.

I continued on my way and ran into the guy closer to the station as he was asking me about the parking regulations. Things got a little dicey when I couldn't determine what day of the week it was and then I had to figure out whether it was the first or third Thursday or second or fourth.

I decided that he wasn't a new friend of mine as I watched from the bridge above as the train left the station.

"You need to stop telling people that you can't do your job," that's a direct quote from me to my supervisor.
"So, we're there the other day and Nina is coming up with a cover story for him. She say he works at an engineering firm over on Broad Street--" I said.

"And he's like: "No, No, No, I work up the street." Joe said.

"Yeah, something like that."

"You're a knucklehead." Joe said to Dick.

"The next time someone asks me what I do, I'm going to say I'm a cowboy. "Yeah, but I'm having trouble finding work and I can't figure out why."" Dave said.
It opened under new management back in February and somewhat surprisingly one of the day mangers was still there and I told him more than once that I would be by. Today I dropped by, the manager wasn't there but I was surprised to see Lisa as the bartender. Lisa worked for the old management when they first opened and left a couple years after, about four years after that, the bar closed.

I wasn't certain it was her at first, she seemed taller and bigger in size. I was going to hang out a bit and ask if her name was Lisa and ask her if any of her old regulars had come by the new place but before I could she made a phone call and said "Hi, it's Lisa...."

So, I couldn't surprise her by remembering her name so I was going to mention that she hadn't been behind this particular bar in years but before I could do that she started talking to the guy next to me and she brought up that she used to work for the previous owner.

So, I just sat quietly and watched a replay of the previous night's baseball game.
I hate the 'smart' copiers; the ones that can sense not only what size paper but what type as well. I just wanted a copy and I didn't care that it wouldn't be reproduced on 'quality' paper. I just wanted the copier to do what I was telling it to which was simply 'copy.'

As I was repeated pushing buttons, trying to override the copier's intelligence the owner of the company asked "Are you in a bad mood?"

Fucking stupid copier! If you had just copied when I pushed the 'copy' button I would still be standing here you stupid piece of shit.

I knew she wasn't asking about my immediate trouble with the piece of pompous shit of a copier but something else. Who the fuck designed this feature? Fucking moron.

"Yes," I answered.

"What's the matter?"

"I'll get over it."

We went back and forth a few times.

Although, I'm not certain I will get over it.

It's a few things that congealed into something bigger than I wished to consume


So, I type, then erase because I'm full of self loathing.

That's not true, I love myself; it's just that the level of bitching is more than I stand to bear.


She told me that her boyfriend got beat up. He was held from behind while her huge ex-boyfriend took out some punching practice on him. She said he was busted up pretty good (I know that ain't good English but sometimes improper English conveys the message better.)

It started during a party when her boyfriend asked someone to smoke outside and I guess the guy wasn't moving quickly enough so he got a little push. The guy turned out to be a friend of her ex-boyfriend so a third guy held her current boyfriend while the other two kicked the shit out of him.

The police showed up eventually. Her ex deals in illegal drugs and is violent as well as vengeful. The police assigned a detective to the case because they have being looking for her ex-boyfriend and they want to know where he lives.

She's worried because everyone at the party knows where the ex-boyfriend lives but she thinks if the police all of a sudden find out where he lives, she thinks that he will think it was her and/or her boyfriend that ratted him out. He wouldn't like being ratted out and would do something to retaliate.

Her boyfriend was released from the hospital after a few hours. She told me while she was in the waiting room, a guy, in his fifties, walked in, sat down, about fourteen feet from her, and said he needed help before he slouched over in his chair. She said she could see the guy's brain through the bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

Smoking's bad.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

oh and one

There was an extreme release of energy and I'm sure she saw it flash across my eyes. I was furious with what she had just done but my love for her was still stronger than any hate that I wanted to unleash.

In a split second I was exhausted, there was a mighty force directed at an unmovable object.

It was as if I just tried to wrestled a tree.

I merely said "Just tell me what you want?"

Monday, June 11, 2007

13,000 visits, 16,664 pages viewed. A portion of that is me of course, I'll read what I posted recently because often I'll forget and also when I finally get around to responding to comments if I can ever think up something to say.

It's been a week now that I've been putting in extra time at the second job. I keep showing up to finish a proposal that keeps never getting finished.

My job is to dress the thing up: make the front and back covers, the index/divider pages and format the pages so they look nice and the whole document has a flow and then wire bind the whole thing together. I'm waiting for someone else to finish writing their bits, that someone is the owner.

I've been told we'll need three copies to mail out and then we will need two other copies which we can produce at our leisure. I have parts for four proposals sitting on my desk just waiting to be partnered with important text.

During conversation she gave me the rundown of the project; the commissions to be paid would run around six million. I offered no reaction, percentage-wise it's still five percent. She then broke that down and after co-brokes, expenses and agent commissions paid, the company might make $250,000.00. I offered no reaction to that either.

It's a big deal for a neighborhood real estate company. I probably should be excited

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

fictional non fiction

I'll tell you what, there can arise a case where this site would all but disappear.

"Dude, it's just a story..."

"But that's not how it happened."

"But that's how it could have looked."

Stories have more than one side.

I do my best to find out how people hear.

"Are you just talking to be heard? Just want to blow off some steam? Am I supposed to just listen? Because I really don't know why you are talking to me about this. I don't really care. I've told you my opinion in the past and it hasn't changed. But if you just want a pair of ears, I'll pretend I'm listening. Otherwise, go away."

this has no period

I hadn't seen her for years; we met during the campaign. It was a failed event or at least to me it was.

She ended up marrying a common cohort; they had a child and named him after me; or at least partly. They told me when they were searching for names they couldn't remember a Tim that they did like and that was added to the fact that I was there whenever anyone called.

What's odd is that I can't remember being happy during that time. And odder still is that folks wanted to be on the same team as me. I lost a measure of unharmful innocence back then and gained a measure of disdain.

We over came some heavy odds but when it was down to us and the other guy, the other guy won. Others moved on and mostly higher, I slipped back into my familiar shadows.

I have played in the big leagues.

It was good to see her face light up when she saw me; I sometimes forget the core of me is still liked by some. During those days folks saw me unvarnished and raw; today there seems to be a lot of social packaging.
In my line of work there are things that are installed the same way no matter where those things are installed and we call those things "typical," but there are other things that are area specific and have no typical installation procedures so when I say "There is no typical. Stop saying typical," it's kind of best for everyone if the word typical gets stopped being used.

So he'll print out the email that someone had emailed to him and he'll write his little notes on it and then hand the printed-out amended email to me.


Sunday, June 03, 2007

How's the html coming?

I often wonder of the value of this place. Would I write without it? Would I care less about my photos? Would I read other blogs less?

I'll semicolon the life out of any sentence. - that's a side note

My four year old niece will say "Timmy, let me see," after a snap a photo and then sometimes she'll say "Take a picture of this." I'll always take the photo of whatever she ends up doing but I never like them.

Real life usually tells a better story, or so I think.

Even if it's not technically good at least it's real.

I'm great at rearranging deck chairs

She asked and I said I would and I did that because she seemed to be getting some satisfaction out of her gardening and hanging window boxes isn't all that much trouble.

All of the chains needed to be replaced; just one eye hook was missing. Previously, S hooks were used. S hooks are for babies.

I made a loop on either end; there were sixteen loops in all. While I was looping one of the agents came out to talk. She explained some of the deficiencies if the file I had returned to her. I didn't bother to look at her after the greeting. I don't like writing notes explaining to someone who should know better on how to do their job. I let her know she was making more work for me.

I wondered how she liked be corrected from someone installing window boxes, for a moment I hoped it bothered her, at least a little.

I'm an ass sometimes or is it sometimes I'm not an ass? Probably the latter.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

I don't care much for Freddie

Hmmm, no posts on the flashdrive…

Most Saturdays, there is a little bit of nieces jumping on the furniture and a lot of Scooby Doo. I'm not around for the most of it.

front row seat

It's hard for me to self motivate when I can't foresee any benefits of my actions.

But for now I have to hang window boxes. Well, I don't have to but I was asked to and I sort of agreed to.