Saturday, April 26, 2008

She loves rounding second base despite never finding any wood

She was there when I walked in for lunch; their Sprite is delicious. Her words were loud and slurred and she was slipping in and out of baby talk. I really didn’t want to deal with her that day but I’m stonewalled in certain things. It’s my bar as much as it is hers even though she there more than I am. She would take it as a victory if I had stopped showing up.

Fortunately, she left me alone as she hung over some other guy. I smiled because I was pretty sure the show was for me.

I seconded guessed my decision to return after work. I had guessed that things would get worse for me if she was still there and I had guessed right. She asked several times why I wouldn’t sleep with her. She asked which of the bartenders I was trying to get. She asked why I didn’t like her. She told me that she was hurt because I kept refusing her. She told me that it would be wonderful. She told me that she could get lots of guys. She wasn’t keeping her hands to herself.

She hasn’t realized that I have seen all her tricks in first person and in third.

She’s forty-two with a future of old and lonely.

Monday, April 21, 2008

After 'watching' two Mara-thons, I learnt something

Advertisers were passing out little c o w b e l l s. So I googled it and found out that "It is the ultimate symbol of encouragement and fortitude."

The LVM21 Cowbell was first rung at the Phoenix R&R Marathon in January, 2006. From there it has traveled back and forth across the country and into Canada, being rung for our members as they brave their marathons and ½ marathons.

The need was so great that we had to employ a “back-up” Cowbell to keep the schedule covered and the ringing going. Traditionally the bell is rung at mile 21 for the marathon in honor of the club's name, as well as the fact that everyone can use some Cowbell just after hitting the wall at mile 20! Ringing it for ½ marathons has become popular as well. It is the ultimate symbol of encouragement and fortitude for our LVM 21 Members.

Part of my Weekend

Lance Armstrong
That's Lance Armstrong. The one with the towel, ruining my shot. No wonder Sheryl Crow dumped his ass.

Deena Kastor
Deena Kastor on her way to the Olympics

keep your stuff in sight

The Prudential Center, welcome to Boston. We're mostly thieves.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Ladies, Please Resist Your Urge.

When I'm busy, I don't go which is why I know I'm not an alcoholic and I've been busy. But I had heard that Em was going to be working the bar in the afternoon so I made a point of being there.

I got a seat because one of the regulars was leaving and often the regulars look after the other regulars. I shook hands with the other bartender who I also hadn't seen in awhile and explained that had gotten busy.

I watched her pour some drafts and open a couple bottles of beer. Her hair was shorter than the last time I had seen her and she was well tanned. When she has more than one to open she still hugs the bottles high on her person as she pries their caps off; it amplifies her cleavage and I imagine it helps with the tips. I got there on the front end of a pub crawl and when she got a breather she was standing right in front of me and looked up. I just smiled.

She shouted my name and then fought her way through the crowd to give me a hug. When she got back she placed a Bud Light draft in front of me.

"You shaved off your facial hair. You look younger."

"Yeah, It was just going to be for a couple days but then people started saying that I look better without it."

"What do you think?"

"I think I look better with it but I don't have to look at me."

It was difficult to carry on a conversation because the place was loud and because one of the other regulars was sticking her tongue in my ear. It was her boyfriend who left whose seat I was in. I just wanted the chair not that status of lover. It seemed like it was her annual all-out-assault on bedding me. When she went to the Ladies' room, Em said "You're going to get raped." Her hands were all over me and each time they were returned to her lap. She mentioned that I was right handed and that she knew that because that's they way my dick was pointing.

She left with smeared mascara. By then, other bartenders had joined the shift and Erin noticed my sigh of relief and she rolled her eyes as she shook her head. "Yeah, I didn't know I was that irresistible."

"She left because she thinks you're my girlfriend," I said to Em as she came over.

"She said that?"

"Yeah, and she wants to know what you have that she doesn't?"

"She said that?" Erin asked.


"She's crazy."

"We're like two totally different people. Her and me couldn’t be more different."

"But now she knows what she wants: she wants just one man to love her."

"Wasn't she just here with Eddie?"


"And wasn't she just all over Steve, when she came back up the stairs?"


Em then placed a shot of Vodka in front of me and when I motioned about hers, she said she already had done four. I knocked it back and placed the little plastic cup on her side of the bar and then she strained the bar shaker into it. "I guess I over poured it," she said with a smile as the liquid reached the rim. I thought for a brief moment on how that second shot in a row was going to affect me; I figured I was safe.

I could have stayed all night, it was one of those days when I could drink whatever I wanted without getting wasted as long as I paced myself, but I had work in the morning even though the next morning was a Sunday.

When I got my bill it had only half the beers I had drank and not one mention of the three Vodka shots I had; It was like she never had left.

I'm going to miss the shadows

I caught up to the work crew on the very street that I was told that there was a problem. They were hanging the temporary signs in the very spot that needed to be changed. I asked the guy hanging the signs if he had any of the other signs left. He said that he didn’t think so just as the guy driving the truck pulled up and introduced himself.

"Hi Carl, I'm Tim Green."

"Yeah, I know. I've seen you're signs requests before. You do very good sign requests."

I was taken by surprise a bit and smiled before I said "Thanks. I try." I do my best to make my sign requests as neat and understandable as possible but often my requests are more complicated and involved then most of the other guy's making the requests so I sometimes worry that the field guys hate my sheets because they tend to be a lot of work.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

I'm at the real estate office

I asked the owner the other day if she wanted to see what I made working for her last year. She said she did so I pointed to a spreadsheet that totaled -$1,192.

But that was with my business expenses which included a laptop, software and a camera among other things.

Anyway, I'm here at my evening desk and I have things to do but I think I'm just going to go home.

I'm tired of working two jobs and still being poor. I'm tired of working a job that costs me money. I'm the one to blame, though. (and I'm not really poor)

There has never been I time when I've couldn't have been doing better; I've usually settled for doing enough.

I've heard about a survey asking people about happiness and part of the results were: people making millions were no happier than people living in mud huts. Which is something I've always guessed at; why struggle and suffer for a mansion when you'll be no happier than in the mud hut you've got now?

I've heard about a study that indicated that the act of giving can make a person happy. I live in my hut and I could make enough money for a mansion but instead I invest my time and money into people. I'm happier than most of my friends.

ring, ring

I usually always let the phone ring at least twice.

The phone doesn't stop ringing and there is always someone somewhere with a deadline waiting on me to push the papers I'm supposed to be pushing.

"Hopefully we can leave with everybody happy with the plan."

"Well, I'm not going to be happy with any plan but you might leave with something that's agreed to" I replied.

Sometimes, things just can't work, bad timing, bad location, bad something else; there isn't always a nice answer.

"Hi, I'm Timothy Green and this is Sgt Pepper, I'll be playing the good cop and Sgt Pepper will be playing the bad cop. There is no way in hell this plan is going to work and I can't see any other plan even close to this that would work. We can't do it during rush hour and we can't do it on those streets and I think there are too many people to handle safely. Now Sgt. Pepper do you want to give them the bad news?"

and that damn phone just keeps ringing

and too many email as well

It's like having to run an endless amount of sprints when you've spent most of you career running marathons.

Office politics too.

I know the game and I hate the players.

Sunday, April 13, 2008


I was sorting through receipts when she knock on my door to tell me her pet pig had died. It wasn't surprising news, he was old for a pig and his health had been failing.

He was lying on the floor not unlike he usually was except he was too far off of his bed. His eyes were slightly open.

She didn’t know what to do so she found me.

It was a running joke in my work after every Christmas and every Easter, I would get asked if the pig had survived the holidays and sometimes I would get asked what we would do when he passes. So, when my sister came to me, I did have a plan.

I know they cremate pets at the MSPCA. Normally, pets get buried in the yard or on the family’s land up north but an eighty pound pig is too large for burying in the city. I’m certain the neighbors would get suspicious if I had a freshly dug grave large enough for a seven year old child.

I googled the animal hospital for the phone number.

When I told them why I was calling and I got quite worried when she said “I don’t think we take that type of animal.” I couldn’t figure why they wouldn’t. I wasn’t asking for any emergency care or any type of medical procedure that may require some sort of pig expert. I just wanted a carcass taken care of.

I thought I was in for a lot of digging for a Saturday night while I was on hold while she checked. It turned out that they would take him. I was to show up at Emergency and then go from there.

I grabbed a moving blanket; it was the only blanket that I didn’t care getting back or not even though it cost more than any blanket that has been on my bed. It covered him nicely and it seemed a kind gesture that the blanket was padded. When I asked my sister if she had any interest in going, she just tearfully shook her head “no.”

I’ve only picked him up maybe twice before, after he reached adulthood; moving him was always awkward. I placed him in the bed of my truck and wrapped a rope around him once, just so he wouldn’t slide around. I was glad the rain had stopped. When I stood back up straight, I noticed the bottom on my shirt was wet, I hoped it was just rain from leaning against the truck.

It was an easy drive, maybe twelve minutes. I backed the truck into one of the spots marked ‘Emergency.’ It felt a little odd just leaving him in the back of the truck as I went in to fill out the paperwork.

There were four people in the lobby and two that I could see behind the desk; I walked over and started to say why I was there when one of them finished my story. I was handed a form to fill out; I did the best I could. It seemed stupid and unnecessary to put down my sister’s information so I used my own. I didn’t know his birthday and other information seemed for dogs or cats.

As my information was being entered into the system, a couple, father and adult daughter was my guess, brought in a golden lab. I couldn’t hear what caused the problem but the dogs eyes were both blood red. Their form filling out bumped mine out of the way. I had to wait further as a young couple dropped off a stray. I thought ten thirty on a Saturday night was an odd time to drop off a stray. They lead him in by his collar; he seemed well behaved. Maybe their apartment doesn’t allow pets.

I read the leaves on a piece of art that served as a memorial to what I thought would be just pets but some of the messages seemed for people. I don’t know why it was shaped like a tree, other than to just be different. One of the leaves was engraved not quite level.

Some guy walked over to the desk, I think he had just adopted a terrier mix. The placed seemed too busy. He was asking about kennel cough because he was warn that his new found furry little friend might have it. It was explained that it’s usually a virus but it wasn’t something to worry too much about unless the symptoms were to worsen. I rolled my eyes as the guy asked for the indications of ‘worse symptoms.’ One of the things he was told was that his dog would cough more frequently. I thought “Poor little dog.”

When it got to be my turn again, I was told that I could just bring the body in. I hesitated because I know it didn’t look pretty getting him to the truck and I really didn’t want to wrestle with a dead pig through a strangely over crowed lobby.

She offered a stretcher but she meant a gurney. I took her up on her offer. She had followed me to the truck with the gurney and I helped her maneuver it back inside. I think she was surprised by the weight of him.

Before she took him to some back room, she asked if I wanted the blanket back. It seemed petty to ask for its return but I couldn’t find a reason not to get it back so I did.

I was just going to have him cremated and then forget about it but my sister was a little shaken by losing her pet of seventeen years so I opted for a private cremation so I could get the ashes back, or at least I’ll get some sort of ashes back.

I was told it would take about four weeks and then I would get a call that they were shipping the ashes UPS. It was my name and address so it will ship to me; I’m thinking of buying a large piggy bank and sealing up the coin slot.

Saturday, April 05, 2008


I hate going into meetings blind but then I assume that most people are too fond of it either. I get to go to lot of surprise meetings. “Come with me where going to Elm Street to meet some people,” I’ll hear and then ask what the meeting is about and then be told that we’ll find out when we get there. Great.
But folks know I will not make any hasty decisions and if an answer is required on the spot most likely it will be a good one. But I still hate it. I don’t understand why folks can’t ask: So what’s this meeting about?
When I take a phone message, I always ask what the message is about.

I turned on the computer to compose an ad but I ended up browsing the internet.

I hadn’t seen her since last Friday when she was helped out the back door to a cab. I had been worried about how she was going to get home even though her house was in walking distance. The manager decided a taxi was the best solution.

There were parts of that night that I can’t remember and there are some parts that I wish I couldn’t remember. She knew she had a few more shots than I had, I remember five for me and four additional ones for her. I standing with the manager towards the end of the night concerned over her as she sat on the stairs down to the kitchen.
I was drinking beers and maybe had five which may have brought the amount of alcohol we consume to about equal but I definitely out weigh her at the very least by ninety-five pounds. She’s fit; I’m not.

The next morning I took some blame for her state because it was I that suggested we do shots. I took some blame for the last time someone got to a state where they couldn’t stand because they were doing shots with me too.

She mentioned last week before anything else and told me what had happened after she left. There’s a puking fee involved with some taxi rides, so her trip of five city blocks cost her sixty bucks. I was glad to hear that one of her friends went to her house to check on her when he couldn’t get her on her cell phone. She was on the kitchen floor when he found her but got her to the shower and then to bed before he left and when he returned to check on her at 4:40AM she was up and about and fine.

My worse was that I could remember sitting eating those chicken strips from some McDonalds but I couldn’t remember walking there or leaving there or taking the subway home. When I got home I kicked off my shoes and laid on my bed and passed out for a couple hours. When I came to at about 2:30AM, I took off my street clothes and my contact lens and tried to sleep.

She couldn’t remember when I had left the week before but she knew I saw her not able to stand because she asked the manager about it. He told her that I had been quite concerned.

I think she was worried that my opinion of her might have changed which I thought might have been the case so after I settled my bill I handed her a gift card to Starbucks.

“What’s this for?”

“Because I think I’d overheard you say that you love Starbucks, once.”

The regular seated next to me asked what I had given her because she had came out from behind that bar to give me a hug and tell me that I’m the best.

The same regular then goes on to tell me of all the nice things he does for bartenders. One of which is giving them gift card to Victoria Secrets. I didn’t bother to tell him that bartenders find gift cards for lingerie from patrons a bit creepy. I don’t give the bartenders anything that I wouldn’t give to one of my sisters but that’s just some private rule I have.

I stayed for four beers; I had calculated that four beers couldn’t be considered a short stay but it also wasn’t going to tie up my night. All in all I think we both survived and are even slightly better friends now.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

yeah, I've been kinda busy.

I wasn't seeking it and I'm even sure that those around me, that really know me, would probably even say that I was doing my best to avoid it.

But sometimes things are just thrust upon you and then you have a decision to make and if you are not of the weak character type, all of a sudden you become relevant.

When I was asked what I thought would happen to his job, I would tell people that his title wouldn't survive but his responsibilities would and they would be split between that guy and that other guy.

It was a pretty good guess. It was two-thirds correct and two out of three ain't too bad.

But it turned out I was one of those guys.

On his last day, he told me not to miss the meeting the next morning. I told him that I wouldn't miss it but that I hadn't been told anything for the powers that be about doing part of his soon to be former job.

Two minutes later, an email arrived with my appointment and then I was where certain bucks would stop.

I was pushed ahead of three other guys.

I can feel the eyes on my back.

So much for skating through life.