Thursday, April 23, 2009

Please do not ask me to grab the book of fiction on the left

I think I have a problem in my head. There are sometimes I can recall a conversation word for word but then I can't remember the correct spelling for 'their'. I actually, now remember how to spell 'their' since the last time I was here complaining about it, so that's just, a now, untrue example. I also have trouble with left and right, to this day I suck at the hokey pokey.

But today's trouble, that I'm going to share with you, is the difference between fiction and nonfiction. I know one is pretend is the other is not pretend but my mind likes to distinguish between the two as one is real and one is not real which causes me to want to think that the nonfiction is non-real which is non-true.

So the way I have to remember it is that: Science Fiction is fake so that means all Fiction is fake and if Fiction is fake then Nonfiction is real.

And that's a lot of thinking for something I should just know.

Dogs get cancer too

She called and asked if she could ask me a big favor. I paused a moment before I answered.

It’s kind of hard to make the argument that you’re busy when you’re sitting in your living room at 7:15 in the evening watching Extra; but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to try. And I was kind of busy, I was actively working on planning out a strategy on avoiding all of the things that I needed to get done.

“You can ask,” I said, stressing the word ask a little bit mostly because I was being an asshole. She then explained that she’s working on a deal to refinance her properties which would lower her loan commitments and give her cash in hand. The catch was that she needed her property portfolio by 9:30 the next morning but she told me that she had most of the components at the ready, that she just needed them bound into a nice package.

Having less money pour out her door is good for me because it increases the chances that I might actually get paid for the work I do and her getting a small pile of money to roll around in is good for me too because it means that there will be some money just lying about.

I told her that it was unfortunate that I wouldn’t be able to help her out. I told her that if she had called me earlier in the day then there may have been a chance that I might have been able to help but as things stood at the moment that I was unable to assist her.

She was quiet for a moment before she asked when it was that I stopped loving her. I told her that it was when I took a step back from our relationship and saw for what a fool that I was being played.

I was surprised by her laugh but my surprise was followed by anger when she said “Yeah, I’ve been fucking you over for years but you just kept on coming back for more.”

And that’s when I became a writer of bad fiction.

Flip the coin, dude

You may not know this about me but I’m needy. I don’t need a lot but I do need a little from time to time. I need to know that I’m on track.

It was a little frustrating to me that she hadn’t called to tell me her opinion on the finished portfolio. She had left the design of it up to me and I had strayed a little from my normal business conservative style. She also hadn’t told me in what order she had wanted the components and I had chosen an order that made for a better looking document over a very smooth intuitive flow of information.

And plus I was up past midnight making her two copies of the damn thing.

So I started that post above, the one entitled “Dogs get cancer too.” It was going to be a long trip to get to end which would be: Boo Hoo to me. But as I was typing away, my heart wasn’t in it; it seemed too petty to finish so I wrote a bunch of gibberish because I felt that my readers were do some words. I posted that gibberish and then started fixing my typos and some of my poor use of the English language when my cell phone rang.

It was the owner of the real estate company. She said that she was meaning to call me all day and that she wanted to thank me for the portfolio and that she thought that the guy she gave it to was impressed that it was done just overnight.

She maybe said five sentences in total and in those five sentences she must have thanked me four times.

I thought: “Impressed that it was done just overnight? Most people can’t produce a product like that over six days.”

Or maybe I thought, “It’s about time you called, bitch.”

I find it odd that there are words that I have no trouble typing out but those words rarely pass my lips; words like bitch.

Or maybe I thought, “Gee, I’m glad I didn’t bitch about not getting called.”

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

I'm removing myself from the loop

I'm certain that there's a least one post on my flashdrive but I don't care to go through the effort to fetch it.

She's called me a few times looking for payment and I tell her that the bill that is overdue isn't mine and that she needs to talk to the owner. She then says that she can't seem to get in touch with the owner.

I want to tell her then she's plumb out of luck. I actually want to tell her to fuck off but it's not my place to say that but neither is it my place to handle calls from bill collectors.

I've tried to explain to her that calling me and asking for payment is akin to calling the owner's plumber. I explain that I'm a private contractor. She then says that she knows that Kevin used to call me when the bills were overdue. I explain that things are different now and that things were even different for Kevin towards the end, and there's nothing I can do. She then mentions Kevin's name again and then I explain that I had known Kevin for over twelve years and that I had a professional courtesy with Kevin and when he left her company then my obligation to courtesy left with him. She then requests the same courtesy. I basically say no. I tell her that there's no profit in it for me, that there is only grief but she persists.

I tell her that I'll call and when I do call all I get is voicemail.

I did my part now fuck off. I'm out of the loop.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Taking a Photo of Paul Revere Would Be Something a Tourist Would Do

Patriot’s Day. I had never been to the Patriot’s Day Parade in Boston before today. It was always too much out of the way or too much forgotten. I was there today not because I am a patriot but because I wanted to see how things worked.


The way things worked was that people gathered at City Hall Plaza. The people were mostly just passing by but stopped for the commotion.


The commotion was just mostly ROTC members from four different high schools but there was also a marching band, and at least two other groups.


The crowd was sparse but polite even when the words to the Pledge of Allegiance were forgotten. I felt it fit with the day.




The horses lead the way (which I always thought was a big parade mistake).

The parade ends with an ever so modest reenactment of Paul Revere’s Ride. This year’s Paul Revere asked to speak.

“Hi. I’m Paul Revere. Usually, we’re all very quick but this year I asked if I could say something. Thanks for coming out today. It’s good to see such a crowd. We often think of patriots as Paul Revere and John Hancock but there are patriots with us today. Patriots in the service like…”

I forget the names he mentioned he then called the seventy five or so folks that had gathered, patriots. I did feel a twinge of guilt because it was the first time that I was there and on top of that, I would be getting paid.

When it was over, I had wished that more was done to promote the parade.

When all but the Event Staff were left, I started untying the paper "No Parking" signs and tossing them into my car. It's not my job to take the signs down but I felt that since they were now unneeded that I would open the four blocks of the North End back up to parking.

I was asked four or five times when the parade was going to start.

Before the crowd disappeared, I noticed this young girl. I covertly snapped this photo. I was slightly saddened because I felt that she is not with us in this world; that she isn't present.


She seemed old for her size. She seemed old for her age.

I felt her stare was too intense to be called vacant.

Later and down the street, I noticed her again; people would greet her friendly and she seemed to be somewhat aware but I hoped wherever her mind spent most of it's time was better than the littered narrow street that we were both standing on.


This guy had the starting pistol

One minute to go


Invitational Mile 09

Willard in second place after lap one

Willard in second after lap two

Willard listening to questions about her win

Willard answering questions about her win

Saturday, April 11, 2009

I was surprised she spent the time to texted a capital 'e' in Easter

So, I work two jobs and one job is real estate and if you just awoke from a coma, now is not the time to be in real estate.

I forgot the point of this story.

I think it might have something to do with the five pints on mixed vodka drinks followed by a pint of the sourest Margarita that I have ever had.

So, yesterday, which for you heathens is a holy day called Holy Thursday or Maundy Thursday, I baked some bread.

Holy Thursday is the day that Jesus Christ was betrayed which lead to him being crucified the following day, on Good Friday. Prior to Jesus being betrayed he shared his ‘last supper’ with his disciples, part of that last supper was the breaking of bread and the sharing of wine which later became holy communion.

So the point of all of this is that bread was an important part of the last supper and as some of you may know, I bake bread and as all of you don’t know, my pastor knows I bake bread. So, for this past Holy Thursday, I was asked to bake bread.

He asked for six loaves which I didn’t think would be enough so I baked fourteen loaves and then twelve pita breads. Baking that much takes a lot of time so I had taken the day off from my day job and seeing how I was taking the day off I figured that I might as well take Good Friday off as well.

On Thursday night, I got a call that something needed to be done for the real estate company. We advertise on Craig’s List and we have a template that I devised. I was asked to change the template so it could serve another function. I think I might have thought “What the fuck?” because the template I remembered was a pain in my ass. But anyway, whining about shit doesn’t get it done, so I copied all the old files into a new subfolder and opened up the template.

“Oh,” was my response to what I saw; I had forgotten I had updated the template into a flexible joy of html code. The prior me, impressed the present me. Sometimes I forget how good I am.

So after I changed the template to what was wanted, I planned to head into town to deposit some checks and I figured, since I was in town, that I would drop by the bar.

I walked in the bar and sitting at a table were some co-workers from another department. These are co-worker that I like which presented a dilemma: do I sit at the bar and visit the bartender like I had planned or do I ignore the bartender and sit with my friends at the table.

The decision I made wasn’t an easy one and it still doesn’t sit well with me but I still believe it was the correct decision. I sat at the table with my friends. What complicated things further was that they were ordering from the bar, so we were hogging one of the waitress’s tables and she wasn’t going to get a tip.

Anyway, on my second trip to the bar to get a round, the bartender called me a traitor. I’m pretty certain that it was at least a half joke. But some women don’t like sitting at bars and I was sitting with such a women. I don’t think differently about a woman who sits at a bar as opposed to one that sits at a table but I guess sometimes other people do and even though I don’t get it, I understand it.

After a couple, it was just Erin and me. We had closed out the tab at the bar and started one with the waitress. Erin is probably around twenty four three years old and she’s having a hard time with office politics so I listened and told her what I could.

During a lull, she noticed me look at the clock behind me. It was 3:58pm. She asked if I had to catch a train or something. I told her I was just checking to see if that one of the dinner crew was on time or not. I then explained that there are a few guys that come in right at four for the free buffet; they will have a couple beers and a couple plates of food and then leave. She then asked who these people were and I pointed then out.

“This is why I love you, Timmy.”

She left after a couple more and then I was free to go to the bar where I was chastised by both the bartender and the waitress for spending time with my new friends. I just shrugged it off because I was still getting my drinks served in a pint glass.

While I was at the table, the waitress said that I should try to get the bartender to go with her for drinks after work. Normally, they do go out but the waitress explained that the bartender was resisting it. I saw an opportunity, I said that the waitress and the bartender should let make it up to them by buying drinks after work and right on cue the waitress said that my idea was a good one and that the bartender shouldn’t refuse. But she did.

I just let it go, I figured that I fulfilled my obligation to the waitress with a valiant effort and it was obvious that the bartender had no plans on drinking later that night. The bartender then confided in me that she was going to be dyeing Easter Eggs with her nieces.

I told her the nieces are important and asked how fancy she would get with the eggs. She said that she had bought some hats for the eggs. I wondered what kind of hats but didn’t ask.

I snuck out and walked up to Godiva and got two milk chocolate bunnies and three boxes of chocolates. I had the cashier place my order into three separate bags.

When I returned I set the bags behind the bar and told the waitress that one was for her, that the bag with the bunnies and a box of chocolates was for the bartender and that the bigger box of chocolates was for the rest of the bar staff.

I was home when I got a text from the bartender that said, “Ur the best…thank u for the Easter gift!”

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

I end up reworking a lot of things

So, I think I have some breathing room and instead of getting a jump on the next urgent deadline, I’m here goofing off.

But come on now, what’s seven or eight minutes going get me anyway?


I finally finished the wiring for that upper back room. Most everything was set, I just had to hook it up in the basement which sounds pretty simple but I had to run the cable from the back of the house to the front of the house which required some snaking skills and a lot of cobwebs.

I also had to rip out a shower stall I had installed to reinstall it properly. I sort of skipped a step that at the time I thought was unimportant but recently considered it somewhat crucial. I hadn’t set the shower floor on a bed of cement like you’re supposed to and the floor isn’t 100% level so some of the shower floor didn’t sit flat on the bathroom floor. It’s a good quality shower and the floor is pretty sturdy but I worried that is some fat a-hole where to jump up and down in the shower, the floor might crack.

Now the chances of that happening are pretty damn slim but if it were to happen I would probably be angry for the rest of my life about it.

It more important to set tubs into a bed of cement than it is shower floors and it actually didn’t occur to me until a year to two after I set the shower floor down. The shower, though fully functional, has never been used, other than to test the water and the drain, because there is no door on that bathroom.

Saturday, April 04, 2009

I shoot for the middle

not too much either way

What happens in Florida stays in Florida or at least off of this blog

My favorite bartender told me a story about her trip to Florida and I want to retell it but somehow that seems like being unfaithful to her trust. I would have no trouble relaying the story face to face with someone but to transcribe it and post it seems over some sort of line.

I don't know why it matters. The story has no personal details.

When the waitress was the bartender last week because the bartender was in Florida, she told me that the only ones that don't stare at her boobs were Bob and me. Bob was sitting next to me. I said "Oh, we stare it's just that we're better at it."

I don't think I have actually stared but sometimes I am surprised when I re-notice the size of her. She's not huge but she's definitely above the curve.

I still don't understand why guys find it okay to be rude to bar staff. Maybe, growing up with four sisters and no brothers gave me a different perspective.

And, it bothers me when my supervisor says sexually suggestive or sexually overt things about women younger than his daughters. Doesn't he see a difference? I suppose crude is crude no matter what her age, but there is a difference between crude and creepy crude. And dude, aren't you married?

He likes to say that there is no way to evacuate the city in case of an emergency and he is correct. He says that in an emergency he isn't going to die on the highway but go to the bar and grab the first lady member of the bar staff.

The last time I heard him say it, a mutual friend asked, "First off, what makes you think that they are still going to be there and second, what makes you think they are going to have anything to do with you?"

Thursday, April 02, 2009


He said “It looks like it started raining,” so I half turned to look out the window he was looking out and noticed the shiny wet street. “Yeah, but Kristi is my sunshine,” I replied. “I don’t think so,” was Kristi's reply and she said it with some attitude. “What? Who shines brighter then you,” I asked. She replied by saying the name of the bartender that I frequent most.


I’m a commoner

I’ve been busy and tired and the two are unrelated. Hence, I haven’t been dribbling my ramblings.


He gotten angrier and I think his problem is that he thinks the world is fair; but he forgets the times when the world was unfair but in his favor. He sees someone with a better deal with him so he discounts his own still pretty sweet deal.

I try to point these things out to him in a subtle way. I agree that the situation is unfair. I agree that the other guy has a better deal than he should have and then I point out that his own deal still isn’t all that bad, and then he turns and walks away.

Whatever, dude. You’ve got a better deal than me, so it’s hard for me to be overly sympathetic.

Common people do common things – I like the way that reads.


I’m a commoner even when I do something uncommon.