IUSB Atheletic Building

I've gone back to the IUSB Gym. There is something about being broke and wanting to leave the house to do something that will lead a person to desperate measures such as joining a gym. Having a terrible self image is also an inspirational force. Of course the cost of the gym could be a deal breaker. If you are a student at Indiana University of South Bend membership is free. If you have a friend who attends your membership could be $20.00 if they like you enough to get you signed up. Keely happens to like me just enough to make me go to the gym and use her friend discount.

It does eat into the time that I would just be sitting around my home and stops me from idly munching on crap. Overall could be a good thing. It feels right, being there. Which is something I never would have thought I could feel about a gym. In school they were places of dread. Being a fat kid, it's always been one of my least favorite places. It may be fitness dementia or the natural degredation of my brain that I associate with people who are fitness nuts but I am optimistic and generally happy about this.  

We'll see over the next few days, weeks and months what becomes of it.

hOMESTEAD EXEMPTION

I called Jan who let me know that they were trying to file my Homestead exemption but the house isn’t in my name.  I told her that it was land contract and she said that I needed to bring her a copy of the Documented Land Contract.  Then she said it should be on file in the Recorders office and maybe I could request that they simply send it down to her since she is a few floors below them.  She transferred me up there where they told me “No.”  You have to sign for these documents and to get a copy of them it’s $1.00 per page.  I called Jan back because Records was not courteous enough to transfer back down to her, so I could tell her what they had said.  She suggested bringing the documents from home (if I had them) and copying them at work, then bringing them to her.  I guess she needs to keep what ever I bring.  Their office closes at the exact time I get off work so I’ll need to leave early.  I asked if I could fax them and she said it be better if I didn’t because of how many pages it probably was going to be.  She told me I didn’t need to come in over the next two days, it wasn’t that urgent just some time over the next two weeks.  Since I don’t know if I’ll be in town or not next week, I’m going to take off early tomorrow.  This way I can knock it out.  Or more likely find out the documentation I have is not correct, and the Recorders office doesn’t have it on file because I did something wrong or didn’t do something three years ago.  I can’t wait to lose hours and be disappointed and then get over-taxed.  

 

It started out like a normal day.  I was up earlier than I expected because I have failed to master the fine art of correctly setting and resetting my alarm clock after a late night of DVR and internet.  Max had kept me up most of the night with rampant barking at the sounds coming in from the newly opened windows.  He’s very frightened of everything, including parts of his own body.  I was running a little late because of morning internet getting complicated.  When I got to work I didn’t clock in.  My computer takes a good ten minutes to completely boot up after the weekend.  When my first boss of opportunity arrived he called me into his office to explain my infraction.  Apparently Friday I wore shorts.  I did in fact wear jean shorts on my half day casual Friday.  However now I know that shorts are not allowed up in the front office where the professionals work. 

 

Even though it was in the sweetest most understanding tones that Roy informed me never to do it again my day was shot.  I wasn’t threatened, I wasn’t bullied.  There were no repercussions.  The handbook states that the employee would be addressed and sent home for the day.  Sadly those events did not unfold.  I would have liked that.  I would have liked something go according to plan.  When processes that are well documented don’t follow the documentation I cry a little to know that someone got paid for nothing.  I’m not getting paid for nothing. 

RE: google maps?

She’s a little smaller than him.  Huge smile, short blonde hair, young (not ridiculously young but visibly younger than him (once again Carl looks older than he is)).  She looked like she was more fun than Carl ever led on or just more fun than Carl.  I did get a hint of hidden mischief where maybe she is much harder on him at home than in a public setting, I kind of know that feeling.  She also had a kind of goofy quality to her, which may have just been her religious strictness resonating with good clean fun (that idea is perpetuated by conversations I’ve had with Carl over the years).

 

I was a basket case.  I don’t know what to say in those situations.  I don’t know what to say in most situations.  I’m used to being the one in mourning not a guest.  I kind of stood there and waited to answer questions I was directly asked.  Luckily Marsha got there and stimulated conversation.

 

External Stimuli

Regrettably sitting just outside my boss office with her open door policy I hear a lot that I shouldn’t.  I suppose it’s a matter of trust or respect that she allows herself to speak so loudly or me to stay where I am when she knows that I have this unbreakable habit.  However other people’s conversations are often very interesting to me.  More so that television most times.  It’s interesting to hear nonscripted strong opinions being shared even when it’s about the most mundane things. 

 

The topic was “Movies Christians don’t need to see.”  It seemed pretty interesting to me how strongly they felt.  They took into consideration that films are fantasy and in no way real, but still felt that watching them allowed something to penetrate your being.  Something bad.  The conversation soon shifted to Hypnotism and then ended.  If you were wondering allowing someone to do something with your mind while you are not aware of it is also bad.

Island of Blues

I was last to be considered for the free tickets to the Elkhart Annual Island of Blues Festival that we received from a local shrink wrap vendor that happened to be sponsoring the event pretty largely.  No one else was interested or available.  I lucked out.  When I heard what the tickets were for I immediately thought of my parents.  My dad loves the blues and my mom loves festivals.

 

This is going to be brief but since there is so little information about the festival online I thought I would highlight the main points.

 

The music started at 4pm.  There was a thirty minute break between each band.  It was roughly 8 hours of music.

 

They had four food vendors two fair food regulars, a BBQ place and Coldstone.  Prices were fair, but selection was duplicated between the places.

 

Beer and Wine were available for $3.00 a drink.  They had an elaborate system of tickets where for 20 bucks you get 7 tickets.  One ticket buys a drink.  The secret is that you also buy the $6.00 light up pint glass that holds twice as much as the Dixie cups they have and you get it filled with beer with for one ticket.  Beer and wine choices are as follows: Bud, Bud light, Lambrusco, White Zinfandel, Chardonnay and something else.  Pretty limited.

 

The bathrooms were on a trailer.  They were the best festival bathrooms I’ve ever seen with fully functioning plumbing and fully enclosed not to mention air conditioned facilities.  I was blown away.

 

The island is small and the crowd wasn’t very big.  It was generally nice.  I had a good time, even though I’d been up since two thirty am and was crashing hard by the fourth act. 

 

The fourth act sounded more country than blues and we bailed.  The heat was miserable and when we got to my parents house to get our car the rain just downpoured.  We had left in just the right time.

FW: Your Weekly Savings Tip

 

 

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From: Benjamin Bankes [mailto:feedthepig@aicpa.org]
Sent: Monday, August 18, 2008 4:32 PM
To: McBrier, Paul Jr.
Subject: Your Weekly Savings Tip

 

 

Credit Reports Your credit report contains information about your past and present credit transactions. It's used primarily by potential lenders to evaluate your creditworthiness. So if you're about to apply for credit, especially for something significant like a mortgage, you'll want to get and review a copy of your credit report. Be sure to obtain a free credit report every 12 months by visiting annualcreditreport.com. Once received, review closely for any inaccuracies and unauthorized activity. Take steps to report wrong information. To learn more about what good credit can do for you and steps to repair less than perfect credit, check out the new Feed the Pig Podcast or visit FeedthePig.org. I.O.U.S.A. As gasoline, food and health care costs continue to rise, Americans are looking for solutions to the ever-growing financial challenges being faced today and in the future. I.O.U.S.A.: Live with Warren Buffett, Pete Peterson & Dave Walker addresses these challenges while offering solutions in a one-night-only, exclusive in-theatre event on Thursday, August 21st. Theatres across America will become community town halls as five of the nation's most notable financial leaders and policy experts engage in a 45-minute LIVE panel discussion following the viewing of the acclaimed documentary "I.O.U.S.A."  Watch the trailer, locate a participating theater and submit a question for the panel.

 

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Being young

I was going to post yesterday about how the autumn which this year has decided to start in August, is my favorite time of year.  It always reminds me about when I began seeing my wife in high school and doing crazy things outdoors in the cold with my friends.  The main focus of that entry was that we don’t do crazy things anymore; our lives are governed by our free time and energy levels which are governed by our jobs.

 

Last night while Keely was at school for their open house I sat at home and drank.  This may be confusing for some but I while my wife enjoy drinking in large groups of people, at home with just me it’s not quite the same thrill for her.  Thusly it’s more fun for me to drink when she’s not home.  I am not a sad drunk who drinks alone (not most of the time).  I had four drinks; vodka and diet sprite.  Take one old fashioned glass fill with ice measure out 2oz of vodka, top with sprite and stir.  Every time you make another one add more ice to the old ice.  The ice gradually takes up more and more space in the glass (in addition to the rumor that it may hold alcohol it’s “absorbed”) as the cubes get smaller and fit better from melting.  While you always have the same amount of alcohol you begin to use less soda.  This is fine because as you continue to drink you care less about your drink getting stronger.  It ended up being one 12oz can of diet sprite to my 8oz of vodka which may have tasted different mixed in huge glass all together to begin with.  It’s hard to say.

 

When Keely’s open house was over at 7:30pm, she came home to pick me up.  We had to go get Dog food.  We drove out to the Wal*Mart and had dinner at Chik’Fil’a (or chicka flick – if you’re Grandma Rose).  When we got home she had lots of school work she had to do.  We didn’t go to bed until 11:30pm.  Normally we hit the sack around 9:30-10pm at the latest we stay up on a weekday.  I got up at 3am and she got up at 6am.  That’s about as crazy as we get anymore.  It was more spontaneous than I’m used to, although I’m sure Keely didn’t enjoy it half as much I did.  She was pretty focused on the workload, 

 

The best part is being at work tired as all get out.  If I concentrate I can make myself think I must be drunk.  It’s probably going much worse for Keely.

It was all a dream

I was sitting at home with no lights on. It was a gloomy day and my dad was over. He's never apart from mom so that was weird. Weirder than that was the other company I was keeping. Brian was there from work. I hate and sympathize with brian. Also someone I don't know and can't describe was there. They passed around a guitar and started the age old conversation of "Should we start a band?" They looked at me asking if I could sing, because I had no music talent when it came to instruments. Driver Paul was playing on my stereo and Tim had just broken out into one of his what ever you want to call it and the whole situation seemed very pliable. After spending an afternoon with my father a stranger and a co-worker I don't really like, my wife came home and eventually her friend came over. We went out to a bar and they had some drinks we ate some food and paid way to much for some sort of virtual reality experiance. The was the last time I saw Keely. I was wondering around in the dark. In japan. If they have dirt highways in marshland type areas, that is where I was. A tiny car, smaller than a go-kart pulled over, thinking I wanted a ride. I only wanted to look at how small it was. This was unacceptable in their culture. Put out that she broke free from her commute and had to speak english she drove away kind of huffy. I was on a recumbant bike and cruising in the cool night air. The moon was out or there was a street light that followed me everywhere. I was on my cell phone trying to call Keely. We hadn't planned this trip as well our chicago venture. There were no maps of walking directions, no itineraries and no orginazation. All of which had to have been my fault. The phone service said that making a call in Japan from my indiana number to another indiana number wasn't covered by my plan but I was then turned over to another carrier who played some comercials in order for me to use the service free of charge, which I wouldn't really know until I got the bill. Who knows it might have just been playing comercials to mess with me. I got caught up in a cul-de-saq. Behind me was a police car but it was already full of americans it was taking home. I kept ridding.

I had a job. Keely was there. It wasn't just Japan it was the Future or Japan is the Future. Our jobs were non descript but it was about 8pm and just like the night before Japan was shutting down. I was told that was part of their culture. I laid down on what appeared to be an ottoman that sat on a motorized cart. It must have been robotic because there didn't seem to be any controls. Keely must have done the same thing . We were out side of the factory and rushing away from one another. It was probably only ten miles an hour but laying on your stomach on a vehicle you're not controlling, factors in on how you perceive speed.

I was wisked around a corner and down an alley where it seemed like it was starting to rain. There was a girl. She wasn't very Japanese. She wore a french maids uniform and looked as though she had been crying. My cushion stopped and she began singing Sweeny Todd numbers. I tried to sing with her. As it turns out this was not something I was good at either. A black lady came up to us and said something. I don't remember what it was. I was having a moment with this mysterious lady. I got off my ottoman and walked closer to her. This alley had open garage doors and white step vans parked every which way. There we no vehicles in the garage doors.

I was blinded. I turned my head away from the garage and gained my sight back. Reglancing to figure out what had happened I noticed the professional lighting. Inside these garages were set up like homes and they were being completely lit by professional stage lighting. None of the people bustling around were Japanese. At least five people were walking around in silk robes and it quickly became apparent to me that this was the set of a pornographic film.

Dan in real life soundtrack began to play and I got up for the day. Ripped my future, Japan, perverse sex ramage to a tuesday of the usual let downs. At three am my dishnetwork resets itself making it un-watchable for twenty minutes and on tuesday World of Warcraft is down until well into the hours that I am at work. Luckily I had such a crazy dream it gave me something to write about while I had nothing to do.

Twitter takes over

So while I’m waiting for my software to update I can mess with twitter when our server won’t let me actually visit the website because it promotes social networking.  Anyway, I just thought it was an interesting coincidence.

 

Building up to heart break

I am the center of the Universe. Or at least more accurately and importantly; the center of my Universe. The one thing Social networking has done with a negative impact is show you the secret friendships and acquaintances your friends have had with other people the whole time you've known them. The biggest problem with this is that it shatters my illusion. I can handle living in an illusion as long as I'm not reminded it is an illusion in a way that makes me desperately wish that is wasn't an illusion.

My illusion is simple. I am not getting older and the friends I had in high school are not changing nor am I. We are in a happy state of stasis and things couldn't be better so shut your mouth because this is all dependent on us being complete monogamous in our circle of friends.

You have not known so and so since before you met me (even if you have I will fail to accept that as a fact) and his life does not interest you in the least. I assure you that you are too cool to follow him and his stupid meandering and can only truly be entertained with someone who is already on your level like myself.

You did not have casual sex with those people randomly after years of avoiding all thoughts of touching me or allowing me to touch you. We're all happy little virgins dancing in our pure white robes of innocence waiting for that blissful first embrace of passion that will not be some horror show, quirky anecdote or violent mistake.

And so on and so forth, I think you see I'm right.

These blanket statements are simply examples and do not specifically correspond with any one living or dead in my life, but you know who you are and I really think things are better my way.

Office Destiny

I would have never thought that I had an office destiny. It certainly was never my plan growing up. I went to "bring your daughter to work" day with my mother, even though I was her son. She was a Purchasing Administrator. It didn't seem even remotely enjoyable to me.

I went down a career path of varying levels of physical effort. In this hap-hazard selecting of occupations the only clear goal I had in mind was money. I needed more money. I have to do what to get more money? You bet I'll do it, because it's more money.

Then I got in with a company that had a clear vision. The more money you make the less physical work you do. That's not to say you don't have to do work or work hard, you just don't have to sweat. In fact the more money you make the better conditions you have to work in. This seems like maybe it's the business model of the world.

5 things

This was in my drafts – I forgot to send out.

 

On Management (dark)

 

There is a severe difference between Business Ethics and behavior governed by strong morals.  For clarity anything that costs the company money is a violation of the Code of Business Ethics.  Anything that seems morally wrong (in the grander sense of right and wrong) is ethically acceptable as long as it doesn’t break any state or government laws pertaining to your safety or your rights or cost the company money.  This is nearly all inclusive because we work in a “work at will” state.  There were no contractual agreements signed between you or the company that lock either of you into this relationship.  You can quit at any time and they can fire you at any time.  Which leads us back the age old Randy Waller/Rodney Buck argument “If you don’t like it you can leave.”

 

At any level of employment in any company you are never more than the grease that oils the machine.  Eventually you will dry up and be replaced.  Just as with any company in the United States is the grease that oils the economy.  The wheels go round and round.

 

It always seems like there’s an idiot above you in the workplace.  Take the time to understand that once you begin climbing the ladder into a leadership role, you become someone else’s idiot.

 

There is no need to over achieve if there isn’t anyone noticing. 

 

Anarchy can be your friend.  Nosey people that are obviously listening in can be lead astray by letting them over hear false information.  If you’re ever caught doing it you were simply helping them learn the errors of their ways.  It might be misconstrued as starting rumors, but is easily denied by saying they must have heard me wrong while I was talking to someone else…

Taste of Chicago

            Keely and I got up at 4:30am to get ready because my parents were going to pick us up at 6am.  That’s pretty early for them and for us on a Sunday morning.  We don’t normally sleep in an incredible amount of time but it’s a little later than that.  Surprisingly my parents were right on time.  We hustled out to their little grey toaster and bustled to the Southbend airport without stopping for any reason.  After some slight confusion navigating the streets of South Bend that my parents hardly ever travel through we arrived at the parking lot which was a little confusing but me made it.

            Just as we were getting out of the car it started to rain.  We were a parking lot away from the entrance where they sold the train tickets so we got a little wet along the way.  Periodically along the perimeter of the parking lot were “Walkways” that were clearly marked and easily traversable.  Keely went for a more direct route over a three foot tall caution orange barrier.

            The airport was pretty dead, it reminded me of the last days of the Scottsdale mall.  There was one crappy eatery open at the end where we awaited the train.  Breakfast was a card board boat of sausage gravy slopped over two biscuits.  Despite the presentation the meal was palatable.  We paid for our tickets before breakfast then returned to the doors we came in to wait for the train to arrive.

 

[some stuff happened]

 

We went home and got sick.

Oh dear

So after a complicated couple of hours tossing and turning in my head about whether or not to pay the $5.00 to join the Big Huge Labs website for seven days.  The motivation behind this was oddly enough their ability to create motivational posters.  They do that for free, but if you want it in high definition like the picture you supplied with the ability to print out at 24”X36” or whatever large size you might enjoy, you have to pay.  You don’t have to pay for each one, in fact you are allowed to get as many you like over the course of time you paid for.  I’ve never joined a website and paid for a certain amount of time.  It was weird.  I was unhappy.  What they produced made me happy.  What I obtained from them made me happy.  I will probably even be sad when my seven days are up.

 

The most bizarre part is the web app they have that I am the most attracted to.  Writer.bighugelabs.com  They are calling it the internet typewriter.  It’s a black screen with green writing and probably old news as far as the rest of the internet is concerned but it’s new to me so you’re going to hear about it.  It saves automatically and has a lot of other functions that are a major part of programs that allow you to write with them.  The best part was where it differs from a typewriter; spell check.  I could be showing my n00b here.  When I say spell check I mean that nifty red underline that appears when you mess up a word that allows you to right click on it for an alternative spelling.  It seems like to me that it’s available some places and not others but maybe it has to do with my browser.  I really don’t care where it comes from but I wish it were everywhere.

 

More excitement that previsouly planned upon

            My commute today was interrupted.  I was coming into work after a long session of logic thinking the night before that brought me to the conclusion that instead of keeping office hours and sitting around the last few hours of the day with nothing to do; I would leave after the warehouse left.  When the receiving department leaves there is no longer anything to receive into the system.  My work load ends when they leave.  So I should probably come in when they come in so that I can leave when they leave.  It made sense to me.  The interruption came from my passenger side rear tire that had come to the logical conclusion that it was tired of carrying my ass to work every day and was no longer going to retain thirty five pounds of air pressure.  Zero was about the amount of pounds it was looking to hold and with some serious vibrations that took my mind away from a new CD I burned this morning and was grooving out to, it succeeded to hold no air.

            I wasn’t aware of exactly what had happened until I was on the side of the road looking at the problem.  Walking from my side of the car to the side the vibrations came from I could smell burnt rubber.  I assumed something horrible had happened.  It hadn’t really occurred to me that my tire might be flat.  The car didn’t react as violently as I had thought it might at 70mph with only three tires doing their jobs.  It was almost a relief when I saw it.  Not thinking of the financial implications of it I opened my trunk and retrieved the spare, the jack and the tire iron.  I even had a blanket back there that I laid down on the ground so I didn’t get wet. 

I normally wear my dressier pants to work four days out of the week reserving jeans for the generous “casual Friday.”   With almost as much thought and consideration as I had put into changing my hours I also had decided that if everyone in the office was wearing jeans, shorts or even sweat pants; I should be allowed to do it too.  No one had ever spoken to me about dress code the whole time I’ve worked here, not even when I took a position in the office.  I had roughly assumed that there was a Casual Friday and the other four days of the week we were to wear business casual.  I don’t know if there was a sudden implementation of Casual Tuesdays or the warmer weather or lighter workloads of a slow season had somehow entitled us to a relaxed dressing environment but at any rate I wasn’t copied on that memo.

Even if I didn’t have the blanket to lay out I was wearing jeans that made it much more comfortable to change a tire.  The rain was an extra added bonus that only really started to factor in when the nuts were loose enough to hand un-tighten but the hub cap wasn’t very accommodating for my big fingers.  It was a long process of finger tip loosening the lug nuts.  When they were all off and the hub cap was in the grass I found out that the wheel was kind of fused to the lugs.  I can only imagine how I looked on the side of the road kicking the rim, trying to break it free.  I’m sure it appeared as though a disgruntled motorist was showing his displeasure with the defunct vehicle by kicking the living shit out of it.  A much funnier scene than what was actually happening.  I took the tire iron which was made for my car (or at least shipped with it) that had a perfectly sized socket at one end and a chisel point at the other.  I crammed it into the holes in the rim and leveraged it against the brake drum.  It eventually came off.

There really isn’t anything as pathetic as the donut tire.  Even on a tiny car like mine it doesn’t seem like something significant enough to drive on.  The weight of my car and the value of my life don’t seem like the type of things I could feel comfortable gambling against the unfortunate size and limited abilities of a donut tire.  In situations like this however there are no other choices.

Getting my world in shape

I use twitter.com to micro-blog.  Several times a day I will use 140 characters or less to explain what is going on in my life.  It’s a good place to vent, briefly.  I’m able to twitter anywhere because it accepts text messages when you are unable to log online and use the web page itself.  It keeps track of all my posts and posts them publicly the moment it receives them.  Of course it’s also doing the same for everyone else who uses twitter, so seeing my own tweet (which what we hiply refer to our posts as) on the public feed is not a likely thing to occur.  The public feed doesn’t show that many at once and as it receives new it bumps off the old.  On my personal page it saves all of them and on separate page it also shows tweets from the people I follow.

 

Following is like having friends on a social network site, except anyone can follow you without your permission.  That really shouldn’t matter because by using this site you agree to publicly post this information.  It really doesn’t affect you, unless you begin to follow them.  At that point you will see their tweets on your person page.  If you enable sms notices you will also receive them on your texting device.  I enjoy reading the things that most of the people I follow say, but I had to make a few decisions on which ones I wanted to come to my phone.  The more people I followed the tweets I would get and my phone would always be playing catch up because it only holds fifty messages at one time.  Now I get tweets I deem more important than the rest, directly to my phone and the rest I catch up online when I have some free time.

 

When I’m away from my computer and I’m in a position where I am unable to text message to twitter I use Jott.com to translate my voice message into text and then send it to twitter.  Jott can send messages to any one who can receive text messages but you have set up an address book online.  You dial a 1-800, tell it who to send the message to and then what the message is.  Jott also allows you to set up groups so you can broadcast a message to several people instead of resending it to each one.  Like I’m sure is the hindrance of all voice recognition software back ground noise, accents and the pronunciation and emphasis we put on words all confuse the crap out of it.  The best results I got out of it were all while I was talking like a robot.  It also helps if you spell some words instead of writing them out.  It normally gets that a little better. 

 

Jott partners with other web2.0 stuff like twitter and iwantsandy.com which is a personal assistant I am trying to work with to get my life under control.  She can take a message from Jott or any email containing the correct phrase of “Remind” followed by what and when to send you a text message or an email reminding you of things you need to do in the future, closer to when that event is actually due.  So far this is just for me to pretend.  I can call Jott ask for Sandy and say “remind me that I need to take Keely out to dinner on 06/23/08 it’s our anniversary.” (I changed the date so I could get a response today that is not our anniversary) Sandy will then send me an email…

 

Sandy also provided me with a link to enter into my Google Calendar so that everything I tell her to remind me of also shows up there visually so if I happen to look ahead in my calendar I’d see it, even if I didn’t have time to put it in myself.

 

If you want to record your voice because of the funny or musical way you want to say something and have it saved to the internet use utterz.com.  It’s like a twitter and a pod cast all in one.  It stores your posts on a personal page and people can listen to the things that you have said.  You can add pictures and tags to your utterz (which are what they call your posts) so they can be better searched.  Its usefulness is a little questionable for me at the moment.

 

 

I'll sleep when I'm dead

I’ve been going to bed between 9-10:30pm.  My alarm is set for 4:30am.  I woke up thinking it was time for me get up.  I went out to the living room where max wanted to play and I turned on the television.  There is an info bar that pops up at the top of the screen on my dish.  I’m glad there is.  I was feeling like crap.  I couldn’t believe I was alive.  I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed.  Luckily the clock on the info bar said 1:30am.  Which meant crawling back into bed was exactly what I was going to do.  Relieved and shocked I moaned and grumbled all the way back to my bed.  I fell down into it and almost immediately began fiddling with my clock radio.  I don’t know why I was doing it and if I could just get it to stop making noise I could back to sleep.  That realization was occurred at the same moment I noticed what time it was displaying.  It read 4:30am.  It was time to get up.  I didn’t feel the greatest but despite being kicked around through time I had to get up.  Once vertical everything was fine.  I drank some water, had some breakfast, got cleaned and dressed then went to work.  I was functioning.

Fifteen minutes into my commute and I’m just as tired as I was at 1:30am.  I can’t keep my eyes open.  My head feels thick like all that can help it is to lay it softly on my pillow or just immediately on any convenient surface; just do it now!  I made it to work and woke up a little more.  Sitting down at my desk the sleepy crept back in.  My eyes are tired and my body is weary.  I want to lay down.  I’d bet the fifteen percent of blogs that aren’t talking about technology are talking about being tired or just bitching in general about how things aren’t going in the authors direction.    

I don’t think I stay up to late or get up to early, but maybe I do. 

 

Vending Machine Coffee

If it were the job of Critics to simply bitch about everything in a condescending way, I don’t really want to be one. I’d like to be more open minded about things and simply report on how they are. So if things are good they would get good reviews and if they were bad they would get bad reviews, all in some sort of fair system of truth.

Coffee while referred to by those who do not par take of it, as burnt water, actually has as many tones as origins. The urgent need to make it more available and convenient has terribly damaged the final product of what could be a very enjoyable beverage. The coffee vending machine is such a speed bump in the progression of coffee.

The worst part being it’s sneak attack. To the unknown, unexperienced coffee enthusiast who may only have mixed ideas of what coffee should be. This is all not taking into account the high varying levels of personal taste. A machine that takes whole beans stored at room temperature in a container that is not air tight, grinds them according to the designated settings put forth by the vendor not the buyer and then forces boiling liquid through them into a non-insulated shot glass is probably going to compromise your experience regardless of tastes.

Then it happened

It was Wednesday.  I had worked, drove home and began thinking about the evening of roller skating that was going to become actualized in only a matter of hours.  That was when I had gotten hungry.  Shelly called us and we negotiated going to Wakadog.

 

Wakadog is a Hot Dog place in down town Mishawaka.  It went into the store front more recently owned and maintained by Spooners.  It’s much nicer on the inside when compared to most other shops in the area, I think the Spooner people had it redone.  Keely and I arrived slightly before Shelly and the girls.  Keely noticed a poster on the wall advertising a contest.  We ordered our food which arrived at our table just as Shelly was getting there.  As we ate Keely brought the contest to Shelly’s attention. 

 

A long pause, a few whispers of “What?” and then a sudden deep inhale.  “You have to do this!” she said looking me in the eye with her own eyes open well past their comfort zone with excitement.  It was a Hot Dog eating contest, sponsored by Wakadog after the Memorial Day parade.  The sign boasted ten contestants will compete for the prize of one free lunch a week for the next six months.  I was hesitant.  We finished our meals, wrestled to keep the children in line and then left. 

 

On the way back to the cars Shelly wouldn’t drop it, Keely didn’t have any opposition to it and so the guilt trip/peer pressure onslaught began.  I parked the car in the alley and walked back inside.  I made my way through the tables to the counter and asked the owner (who is also the server most of the time) how I could become involved.  I was pretty sure opportunities like this normally resulted in everyone jumping in before I have a chance.  She passed me a yellow sheet of lined paper, which I expected to see eight or nine or (in my best case scenario) all ten spots filled in.  The page had one name at the top.  Someone named Mike, that I am presumably going to meet on Memorial Day after the Parade as I am now the second contestant signed up for the eating competition.  She told me to print and sign my name and write down my phone number.  There will also be a release form that I need to sign, more than likely at the time of the competition.  I can only guess it releases them for the responsibility for, and condition of my health after said competition with (I am certain) a no fault clause for my accidental death.  That reminds me I need to make sure my wife is my beneficiary.  I wonder if I die in the competition, but win the prize, if that is transferable?

 

Now I’m debating advertising this event on myspace, facebook, twitter, tmbo and where ever else I can think of, for a few reasons.  I don’t know if I can win, I don’t know how much of an ass I’m going to make myself and I’m not sure who I want to see that.  I’m thinking I’m going to go for the gold and that can be pretty ugly as I have seen on television.

 

Years ago I had watched a documentary about competitive eating.  Shelly had seen it too.  There are two rules of competitive eating…1.  Push Past and 2. Don’t Die.  Knowing this, feels like half the battle but come Memorial Day we shall see.

 

What the future holds

With the height of new lateral promotion I need to uphold a superior level of appropriateness and candor.

 

WooHoo I got a mo-fo-ing office job!  Can you franking believe it?  Ever since I worked at staples and was surrounded by all the accoutrements of being employed by an office; I had dreamed of holding an office position.  Ever since I was promoted to an office job in the warehouse I’ve been thrilled.  It just keeps getting better.  First it was more pay and a bigger office and now it’s less physical labor and A/C!!!  WTF!!!  I’m going to have to dress nicer because I will no longer be expected to get dirty and stay late finishing other peoples work.  Sure I’ll probably have long hours doing what ever it is they’re going to have me do, but the pressure is going to be different and I am going to love it.

 

 

Something new - A food review from me

The Burger King – Fully Loaded Steak Burger

            I only recommend that everyone try this as soon as possible because of how unbelievably horrible it is.  I can’t imagine that it will be around for that long.  It seems like a great idea even with its vague description of being adorned with “Baked Potato Topping.”  Sadly something is wrong with this sandwich.

            The bun is average size and the patty is nearly a 6”x6” square.  The size of it along with its flavor and texture/consistency suggests that it isn’t mostly Angus beef like they want you believe.  The wrapper they cram it into isn’t any bigger than they might use on a normal sandwich so you can imagine what that does for the presentation.  The flavors are misleading at first.  In the first bites you have mostly meat and A1-steak sauce because it hangs off the bun on all sides by about an inch.  Past the bun there are fried onion pieces, bacon and cheese which together make the patty tolerable.  Then it gets derailed near the center of the bun where they have placed a thick slice of potato.  It doesn’t seem like that would be a problem, fries are good with burgers.  Half smashed potato parts that are reminiscent of something someone might find in the trash are not.  And while eating it and trying to picture mashed potatoes with meat loaf as the closest thing it reminded me of, I couldn’t help but think that potato was scrap from some other cooking adventure they decided to recycle in an attempt to reduce waste.

 

My recommendation is the Chicago Grill (GUBI’s) Super Burger.  It’s roughly three dollars more (served with fries) and contains a full pound of beef.  There is not question about the meat.  The only drawback is that with its size appropriate bun forcing it into your mouth could be a problem.  The patty is roughly an inch thick throughout its 6-7” diameter.  The bun is a ridiculous 5-6” tall.  I’ve never seen a burger this large out of all the “We’ve got the biggest Burger” places I’ve tried.  When I ordered it I doubted claims made by the menu but then was amazed by its size when it arrived.  Luckily before I left the waitress came to shame me in front of my fellow lunch enthusiasts.  She said “I’ve never seen anyone finish one of these, but I’ve never seen anyone eat as little as you.”  Then she proceeded to bring me an average size carry out container that couldn’t successfully close around the Super Burger.

 

Just thought you’d like to know.

All lies

I’m going to get some flack from Tony about this. 

 

Microsoft (those lying bastards) offers a download on their website that will tell you if your computer can handle a Vista Upgrade.  I followed the instructions and ran the program.  I spent nearly half hour invested in this process which if you can imagine ended in positive results.  The program didn’t see any reason there would be any conflicts or problems with the software I was already running and the possible upgrade to Vista.

 

That was great news.  I went with Keely to IUSB and we bought Vista Ultimate Upgrade for $20.00

 

I spent the next five hours installing it.  Everything was pretty and shiny.

 

About half way through seven items flew up red flags in the installation process.  These items like my printer, the video drivers and some random video editing software (that I already knew would work with Vista but I had somehow let that slip my mind).  There was only thing I could do, push forward.  Continue the installation that I was assured would be faultless by another piece of Microsoft programming.

 

My question then is: Is it a marketing scam or did the first program really scan all devices it said?  My printer was listed as “ok” in the pre-installation evaluation but when I ran the install it was listed as a problem.

 

WTF?

 

Today is day one of using the new OS and I’m still visually pleased with it.

 

Waiting game?

I had been telling myself even in my last official capacity that all the issues, stress and pressure I was experiencing, was all in my head.  If I could just keep it there without acting out in any fashion worthy of termination or general admission of lacking.  The last thing I want to do is get myself moved off a good job because I’ve told my bosses that I can’t handle it.  So I didn’t kill, beat or threaten anyone as Warehouse Manager.  Not that I was interested in the confrontation of any of those options anyway. 

 

This is a little different but mostly the same.  There is literally no pressure.  I am an observer.  My presence doesn’t affect anything here and I am not directly or indirectly responsible for anything other that watching what people are doing.  I am to learn what they are doing, but in a general sense as I will not be called to do any of these positions when the transfer is complete.

 

This was initiated by two things; their necessity for a change to be made and the knowledge that I wasn’t happy where I was at.  Normally the information that an employee isn’t happy doesn’t weigh to heavy on their minds.  I really don’t know how much that had to do with it at all.  I assume (which is forbidden around the world at this point as I understand it) that it played a minor part. 

 

Why am I stressing?  It doesn’t feel right.  Doing nothing doesn’t feel right.  I’m over simplifying it, I am doing something but I’m afraid it’s not enough.  I’ve always been afraid of an uncertain future.  This limbo between my last position and my new position is about as uncertain as it gets.  When will my training begin, what have I learned so far that will help me and what should I try to learn to get even that more ahead?  How long do I have to wait?  Should I care at all?  Can I make it look like I care, without stressing out by really caring?  This is what they’ve done to me.  I’m mindfuct.

It came in with a lurk

My home has one door in the front and two in the back. We're not sure why there are two in the back. The basement may have been only accessible from the outside in the beginning hard to say. We've fitted one passage with a doggy door and cheap fence to stop my dogs from running away when they used it. The dogs are free to come and go as they please. So far as they stay in the fence, which is metal and around five feet tall. They can't jump over it or break through it. I'd like to think that I've made their lives so enjoyable in my home that they're not interested in digging under it, but it's just something that hasn't happened yet.

I'd been waiting for my Gevalia Kaffe Coffee Maker to arrive for some time. At one point we came home and there was a box on the front steps that was large enough to hold a human torso of average build. It was so large that putting a coffee maker inside of it would be a little silly. This I realize might only be an observation I would make as I work in a warehouse that repackages material in the most efficient way possible to save on shipping as per our corporate offices have suggested strongly that we do. Keely had however told me that there wasn't any way my coffee maker was in that box, so my view may not have been that unique.

That box on that day held the Ionic Pro Air Purifiers.

[okay - sanity break - I've been listening to the "FUCK Buttons" - and I can't take anymore. They started out clean techno or at least electronica and then went to overlaying weird ass machine generated noises over everything. I could have done with out that. They had a promising name and polished sound but then they shit on it, probably for the sake of being different. (I've always wondered if bands like that really ever listened to their music after they make it.) At this point I'm gonna say that I hate the Fuck Buttons.]

[I've now put on "Metro Area" - let's get back to this...]

Sunday afternoon, Easter, we've just came back from Keely's parent's house where Keely's mother had made us an excellent home cooked meal. We let the dogs out. This is a process we chalk up to habit, ritual, Pavlov and the mentality of animals or the lack of intelligence there of. They have a doggy door, they can come and go as they please. When we get home we need to walk them to the back door so they can go out.

While I'm back there I look out to watch there process and on the steps in the back, inside the dog kennel is a maroon box from Gevalia. It's wet and a little covered in snow. Shocked an amazed, I had no way to actually determine when it arrived. How long had it been here? None of that mattered now. I unboxed everything and it was all there just as it was promised. Insulated carafe, travel mug, coffee, coffee filters and maker.

Like a drug dealer handing out the wares for free Gevalia gave me everything I needed. I don't actually think the dealers give you anything to take their drugs that's all on your end. That's why coffee is better than crack.

My only complaint is that my ghetto house with it's hand made 1920's kitchen cabinets don't give enough clearance for my coffee pot. I have to sit it on my convertible dishwasher which is waiting for a kitchen remodel so that I can properly convert it.

[Metro - I am not in the mood for this either. Hangovers may not be very excepting of house.]

[Just put on the Kills, um we'll see.]

So I set it up to automatically start at 4:25am five minutes before my alarm goes off. This meant that there were five minutes of coffee brewing before I got out of bed and Max started going berserk in the kitchen. He'd never heard a coffee pot before. He's my big protector of the mundane. I wonder how many mornings will proceed like this until he learns that it's okay, the Coffee pot is welcome in my home and not going to hurt anyone?

I've made my first pot. It's been so long since I made coffee like this in my home that I didn't know how much to use. I bought the Columbian grounds and read the manual which told me that for strong European style I should use 12 scoops for every pot. I used 10 scoops and it seems a little strong to me. I'm used to the prepackaged bags of Columbian at work which make roughly 96 ounces if I'm doing my math right. It makes the coffee directly into a insulated thermos. If was watching my stuff correctly this morning I think my insulated carafe might hold almost as much.

And so the substance abuse begins again.

Those Bastards!

This is basically my emotional distress of everyone I learn about via the internet. They came up with it in a way that lead them to completion of something I had already thought about doing and they did it in such a way as to make a profit from it.

How very Ferengi.

What did they do, they created a collection of fun facts and recipes for Ramen, and they wrote it all down in a Mother Franking book about it. They wrote a book. They killed two of my birds with their one freaking stone. Damn it!

As far as I know no one is doing a Television show about cooking with Ramen. Maybe I'll get there first. It'll no doubt be youtube based and air shortly after TLC airs their fully funded sponsored version hosted by an attractive chef. Screwed!

Time well spent?

Max woke me up about 50 minutes before my alarm was going to go off. I didn't know that until after I had decided that his actions were a sign that I should be awake. I turned off my alarm and left the bed room which had been just last night adorned with an Ionic Pro ionic air purifier.

Ionic Pro which is at the lower end of the cost spectrum for this type of device is supposed to be just as good as the more expensive ones, or so they boast. I don't have any imput on that yet, it's been one night. The device does emit an odor which the manual refers to as OZONE. The manual also states that having the device on the low setting is the most cost-effective. If they hadn't brought it up I would never have assumed that a air cleaning machine with not moving parts would suck the grid dry, but now I have to wonder. What is going to happen if I leave it on HIGH? You know I'm going to leave it on high, I didn't buy a machine to scrub nasties out of my living breathing air to let it work half ass-edly.

I easily get off topic.

I spent over an hour, modifying a font in photoshop. I was making a picture for my last.fm page. When I shrunk it down when I was all done I'm not really sure how the hard work translated. It's a picture of my screaming head over a drafting picture I scanned a million years ago with the word "Boosh" blinged out at the bottom.

Boosh is a catch phrase from one of my favorite Adult Swim shows Frisky Dingo. Apart from that reference I don't know anything more about the word. Does sound an aweful lot like Douche and it means "So there!" or "Burn!" (as in the reference from That 70's Show).

Yep time to shower.

They keep pulling me back in

When I was 16, I learned the love of coffee. It was part of my "now we're going to get our acquired tastes acquired" phase. I was already over six feet tall and wasn't really worried about it stunting my growth. Now however I wonder if it didn't somehow effect my brain. After high school the coffee drinking slowed way down. Alcohol took it's place on the weekend. Seems I am always in the abuse of some substance (always legal*)

So in high school they hooked me. Coffee delivered right to my house and complete with it's own maker?!?!? Gevalia you were for a while the only reason I had a job. My room was more like an apartment with a partial kitchen. I kept the maker in my room and made a thermos everyday. I'd take it to school and share it with Tony. Life was good.

I quit the club when my freezer was full of coffee beans and I was tired of all the clean up. There really shouldn't have been too much clean up in the art of coffee making, but I was entering my "Hey I know let's give up and quit" phase. I've been through a lot of phases...

So now with the overbearing stress of a job I no longer really want to perform anymore on a schedule that has basically ruined me as a person. I don't know about the normalcy of time frames regarding work. I know my place of business opens at 3am. Shifts start as late as 8am. When I started I was on the 6am shift and if I needed to get something extra done I would come in as early as 3am. Now I'm on 8am shift, I've been there for almost 2 years. I can no longer come in early to accomplish anything. It's horrible even the thought of getting there at 6am disgusts me. And so the coffee drinking began. It is the comforting warm sensation in my throat and stomach, the lingering flavor in my mouth and the racing dizzy feeling when I am near that OD point when I'm pretty sure coffee should be illegal. Getting to that level has varied over the years. Sometimes it come quick and sometimes it doesn't. It's kind of worrying me because as of late it doesn't more than 24-48 ounces of coffee to make feel kind of woozy. I would have thought like alcohol and illegal drugs the body would build up an immunity. It's not like I want an immunity, it was just something I thought about.

Now I am in limbo. I've placed my order. The offer came via email. They'd been baiting me with a free travel mug or a coffee pot but then one day they said "Have a free Coffee pot, Travel mug and insulated pitcher." This was an offer I could not refuse. I backed down off the hard core track and chose "ground" instead of "bean. I don't have a grinder anymore. I'm not to the point that I need to make coffee making as difficult as possible to enjoy it's supreme divine-ness . One day I may crush my beans with a muddler and use a coffee press over a stove burner but right now the simplicity of pods in my Panasonic Senseo have been very good to me. I just seem to run out too quickly and not have the freedom to drink as much as I would like in the morning and have enough for the commute. I have to ration it out. It may be the same way with the Gevalia, I just remember it being bountiful. Like an ever flowing wave of coffee into my home.

So in finding a link for Senseo I think I just stumbled upon (I keep using that phrase without using the service) a similar club, nope I need to learn more about reading instead of skimming.

*Apart from the underage drinking 10 years ago.

The Nyquil

Last night I cleaned up th dog kennel, all that feces really had me gagging. I couldn't stop coughing all last night. My favorite cure all is Nyquil. I took a dose and was almost instantly cured. I went to sleep shortly after.

I feel like I've had this dream before, but it's most vivid right now. It was more like a video sequence than a dream.

Somehow I'd gotten high (probably the Nyquil). I was sitting in a technocolor 70's room with matching furniture and heavenly sunlight poring in through the windows, warming patches of fire red shag carpet to an inviting degree. Then a blue box appears on the table next the aqua marine couch I was sitting on. It's hard to tell if it was always there or if it materialized.

The couch had the slick bumpy texture that is never as soft as it is smooth even though it's made of all these beads of embroidered thread. The box was reflective foil. The blues clashed like the changing color of the ocean as the waves roll in towards the beach while your standing in them.

I couldn't resist any longer. A heart warming catchy lounge hit was playing. The type of song you could hear in the hot balmy summer night or bright sun shining day and it wouldn't seem too out of place but always would make you feel happy inside. It was coming from an unseen source like music in movie. I broughgt the package over to my lap. It was not a shipping parcel so there wasn't any packaging tape it was just a lid with folding flaps on top.

The flaps met in the middle of the equidistance of the box. I opened the flaps and the black interior slowly revealed itself to me. The music had stepped up a notch and I could see that there was a female breast in the box. It was not bloody or attached to a woman. The breast just sat there. This didn't seem too odd to me in the dream. I simply picked it up to look more closely.

As I lifted the bulk out of the box I could hear it dragging across the thin card board flaps. When I looked to see what I was dragging it's clear that the back side of the breast has tentacles like a squid. I turned it upside down in my hands and it revealed it's mouth to me. Just as I think to myself that this thing, with all the allure of a bosom, now has all the appeal of an ALIEN face hugger; it creates a vacuum. There had to be a sound for this noise it's making but all I can hear is the music that is calming and near deafening at this point. My face is drawn into the mouth of the squid. Everything turned black.

The music continued as the black lightened slightly to reveal stars. The stars came back into focus and I was then in a sea of breast squids. A black sea. I was underwater swimming in a sea of breasts with tentacles and they didn't care one bit about me. The music has lowered slightly and became an enjoyable pitch when I broke the surface of the water.

I was in shallow waist high water standing on a rock that was submerged with a mermaid. She may not have been a mermaid but it was the thought that had crossed my mind seeing how she was topless. All mermaids are topless, seashell bras are a Walt Disney creation to appease the censors. We danced in the sun with the view of the beach and I begged for sex. It's evidently what I do. She told me when we get back to our room we would.

I felt like I had this dream before because I wasn't thinking "oh God not a face hugger." I was thinking "Oh again?" It is the most unpleasant part of the dream but it's a task that has to be done to dance with my topless wife on the beach. Which without saying is the best part of the dream.

This dream was followed by a visit to a new playground that was also a haunted house theme or actually possessed. Keely and I went with Shelly and her children. It was disturbing, unsettling and gross. I don't have a lot of details on this but there were corpses and slimy green demon babies. There were areas that Keely refused to go and Shelly's children seemed oblivious to the terror and had a real good time on the play ground.

I'm sure there are a lot of important themes to be analyzed here, but I'm not really in the mood this morning to guess, since I haven't done much reading in the interpretation of dreams. Besides when the experts don't know don't they always blame it on outside forces like drugs anyway?

Conspiracy

My company has an intellectual property agreement. I am scared as hell that having that means if I write a book while I work there they will be entitled to the profits. I was hoping that it only meant if the work was inspired by my job or things I learned while working there they would benefit from it but I'm sure that with the lawyers they can afford, anything can be made to fit that description.

I'm also afraid that if I search the Internet to see if a book title already exists, someone will use that title before I can because everything that is typed into a search engine is saved and queried to such an extent that asking the internet if something exists will only result in the internet creating that thing just to wait to present it to the next person that looks for it.

Of course all of this is completely unfounded because I have been so very far away from productive. I've been raking dog shit. That's only the reason why I haven't been writing today. Each day there is a new reason. Such as over the weekend I was cleaning my house and during the week I was just to tired to do anything but watch tv and mindlessly surf the internet.

I am thankful though that over the last few days I've been having brain storms. One of which I'm afraid to even mention here. It might get stolen. However it is such a vague concept that I haven't really worked out how to play it. I don't where the idea came from, it was a dream I had but prior to that I don't know where I got it.

The idea doesn't have character names yet, but in the dream it was about Tony and I. He (as in real life) had been telling people that he worked for the rail yard. For some reason I was down on my luck more so than usual. Taking pity on me he informed me of a lucrative opportunity that he was avidly participating in. He was a courier. This is where it doesn't make any sense. He took boxes and or envelopes where ever he was told. He was never to inquire what was inside these transactions, time wasn't a huge concern and he was paid handsomely. It doesn't make sense to me because it couldn't be that difficult for these people to just make the drops themselves, not so hard that they would rather pay someone else to do it.

And so my mind started ticking away. It didn't get very far, I had to go to work and that is where all thinking normally stops. Which is why they don't deserve any of my book money if I ever become able to crank one out.

New Year Dreams

Recently I dreamed that my place of work was a restaurant. Last night I dreamed Shelly got me a job at a restaurant where I continued to come to work without pants. No underwear either. I tried to pass it off like it was "My thing." In truth I was really embarrassed. They all thought I was terrible employee because I was sitting down all the time. In the end I borrowed some cut off sweat shorts from Shelly and proved them all wrong.

I had a dream about some sort of small nocturnal mammal getting into my house and trying to kill my cat. Which was odd because I don't have a cat. Then there was a part of the dream where I was trying to look it up in a book and tell someone about it but they didn't believe me.

I had a dream about having an old black car full of out dated electronics, that kept falling out when I was digging for the one that I wanted. I've never owned a black car and it's been a long time since I had car that predated the 90's.

Then there was this dream that took place in a subway it involved the entire case of Las Vegas. I'm not sure that I was even in this dream. I may have simply been watching. The subway car goes down the tracks really slowly and the walls and floors of the tunnel are covered in blood and bones. It isn't clear if the bones and blood came from people. They pass an adjoining tunnel and see a snake with a head the size of a VW and then in another one these huge naked people that have nothing to do in their spare time but work out while they live their lives in the subway. Well work out and kill everything that moves. I'm kind of glad I was only watching that one.

Last year I didn't have all that many memorable dreams. I hope they keep up.

Sam's Club - Nazi regime with perks

My boss at my job is not a member of Sam's Club. He has stated off the record that he feels like they are Nazi's checking your card to get in and treat you like a criminal checking your receipt before you leave. He said he simply didn't need that in his shopping experience. I on the other hand will be greatly inconvenienced for the right deal. I'm humble enough should any opportunity to save money arise I will no doubt seize the day.

The best deal so far at Sam's Club is $1.70 hot dog combo meal. One all beef hot dog and one large drink for just one dollar and seventy cents. Did I mention free refills? This is all important because in my house all beef hot dogs are the top of heap on quality and taste. It's true that it was once $1.50 but the price hike isn't enough for it to be ripped from my best deal of all time list.

To the Future

All the snow was gone by Christmas Day. It snowed again on Friday but that's almost all gone too. The weather hasn't been too bad steady 20's to 40's and when the sun comes out it's always to hot when you're in a car for you coat. Damn Global Warming!

New Years eve is tomorrow and I have to work. I'll be off sometime around 3pm to 5pm and then I'm going to go home and start the party. That could mean one of two things. I may go home and take a nap or start drinking. I'm probably going to be too tired to simply come home and drink. In that scenario the drinking would only put me to sleep and make me angry. I'm pretty sure I'm going to take a nap, wake up refreshed and begin the drinking.

Keely is sick and isn't a big drinker anyway. Shelly has to work New Years Day so I'm pretty sure this New Year is going to suck.