I think I scared her off. Haven't heard from her since the night I was about to come out of the closet regarding my feelings for her. It's ok, though, and I'm not just saying that. I've been preoccupied with other things lately, and frankly, I'm not going to get all mopey about the situation. Not anymore and not for anyone. That's the goal, at least.
--
It's seven thirty on a Friday night and it appears Bob TV has barely put a dent in his packing. Considering Kreg is moving in tomorrow morning, it's safe to say Bob TV waited until the last minute to get his affairs in order. Oh, well, he doesn't mean any harm. Despite the frustration his move has caused, he's still a sweet guy and I wish him the best of luck. And I will miss him, too.
I won't see him off, nor will I be here to welcome Kreg into the fold. I'll be at work and afterwards I'll be heading to the Cape to see Michelle. I'm looking forward to seeing her and also relaxing. Works been a wee bit hectic and I'll be happy to leave it for a couple of days.
--
Wanted to run today, but forced myself to take a powder due to some weird right leg/hip pain that's left me with a slight limp. Better to rest it for a day or two more before I hit the track again. My hope is to get back to it as soon as I can before I grow too complacent. Got to keep myself in check, to very loosely paraphrase Mr. Ice Cube.
--
Spoke to Spira today after a longer than usual hiatus. She just got back from California and filled me in on how it went. I didn't realize how much I missed her until I heard her voice.
I miss a lot of my friends. I count myself one of the luckiest people out there to have a number of close friends. High quality all around. I bow at the feet of all of you.
--
Today was Ryan's last day. He's going back to school and will work here and there through the winter, but for all intents and purposes, he's done. He spent his last day in typical fashion: he threw temper tantrums, took one of his lengthy bunker-buster craps, acted way too giddy in response to absolutely non-giddy happenings, and tried, but once again failed, to get me admit I smoke pot. He's been on a mission from day one to not only get me to admit I smoke, but to also get me to smoke with him. Sorry, lad, not budging.
Ok, my lids are growing heavy. Time to stop.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
We used to meet every Thursday
It must be because it's Thursday. I've always viewed Thursday as the most sinister of days. It's when people seem to me to be the most irritable and there always seems to be much more of them about on that day-- the traffic is always heaviest, the lines are longer, etc. I don't know why Thursday sucks--maybe it's because it's so close to the weekend, but not quite--and I'm not going to give it anything close to a thoughtful examination. Fuck that, I need to unwind.
So today was a hot tempered one. To wit:
--Gio, on his way out of the showroom carrying a large fan, kicked the glass front door open SWAT team style on his way out. When he came back in I told him to please not kick the door again ( I should have fired him, but Karen seems intent on keeping him around, so hence my under-reaction). Gio didn't take too kindly to what I had to say and yelled "Are you kidding me? No one helped me open the door! That's it- tomorrow is my last fucking day! (How many times have we heard that one? Oh, if only he meant it) He then left in the pickup truck, blazing his way through traffic like the Duke brothers and running a red light in the process. Ryan told me Karen would tell us we should have opened the door for him. I told him she wouldn't dare, but when I called her , she went ahead and proved him right. I said "No, Karen, that's not right. Even if we should have helped, which I don't see how we could have because we were on the phone, it doesn't forgive the actions, the reckless actions, that he took. He could have put the fan down, opened the door with his free hands and then took the fan out, instead of pulling his Andy-fucking-Sipowitcz impersonation on our front door." Karen agreed and said she'd call him. I'm going to have to tell her that I cannot and will not work with that fucking psycho ever again. Should get interesting.
--Al came back real late from a delivery at the end of the day and because he had to get back into the building to pick up some table legs that he forgot to bring with him, I had to wait around until six thirty before I left. And when he arrived he was all worked up over having to go back to the job, saying he was doing us a favor by doing so, to which I replied " Yeah, but YOU FUCKED UP THE ORDER. That's why you're going back."
Some truths are not self evident.
Gio came back soon after, and the four of them--Gio, Larry, Al, and John-- had a loud gripe session outside the front door. I could hear Gio through the glass telling the guys about the door incident. I was by myself, in the midst of four wolves who were hungry for blood, and if I didn't get out of there soon, they would corner me and feast on my upper-management flesh. I ducked out of there unscathed, but I'm telling you, a reel of me-fighting-my-ass-outta-there footage was looping in my head. Let's just say that in my little film-short, I didn't exactly come out the victor in the exchange.
--Had to talk to Bob TV about his moving plans, the details of which I don't have the energy to go into. Maybe if you press me hard enough about it, I'll divulge, but for now just know that it was a huge discussion that culminated in a wounded Bob TV (emotionally speaking) and a worn out Kevin. That is precisely why I'm going to end this now. I'm going to unwind--maybe take a soak, do some reading, whatever--and then go to sleep.
Good night.
So today was a hot tempered one. To wit:
--Gio, on his way out of the showroom carrying a large fan, kicked the glass front door open SWAT team style on his way out. When he came back in I told him to please not kick the door again ( I should have fired him, but Karen seems intent on keeping him around, so hence my under-reaction). Gio didn't take too kindly to what I had to say and yelled "Are you kidding me? No one helped me open the door! That's it- tomorrow is my last fucking day! (How many times have we heard that one? Oh, if only he meant it) He then left in the pickup truck, blazing his way through traffic like the Duke brothers and running a red light in the process. Ryan told me Karen would tell us we should have opened the door for him. I told him she wouldn't dare, but when I called her , she went ahead and proved him right. I said "No, Karen, that's not right. Even if we should have helped, which I don't see how we could have because we were on the phone, it doesn't forgive the actions, the reckless actions, that he took. He could have put the fan down, opened the door with his free hands and then took the fan out, instead of pulling his Andy-fucking-Sipowitcz impersonation on our front door." Karen agreed and said she'd call him. I'm going to have to tell her that I cannot and will not work with that fucking psycho ever again. Should get interesting.
--Al came back real late from a delivery at the end of the day and because he had to get back into the building to pick up some table legs that he forgot to bring with him, I had to wait around until six thirty before I left. And when he arrived he was all worked up over having to go back to the job, saying he was doing us a favor by doing so, to which I replied " Yeah, but YOU FUCKED UP THE ORDER. That's why you're going back."
Some truths are not self evident.
Gio came back soon after, and the four of them--Gio, Larry, Al, and John-- had a loud gripe session outside the front door. I could hear Gio through the glass telling the guys about the door incident. I was by myself, in the midst of four wolves who were hungry for blood, and if I didn't get out of there soon, they would corner me and feast on my upper-management flesh. I ducked out of there unscathed, but I'm telling you, a reel of me-fighting-my-ass-outta-there footage was looping in my head. Let's just say that in my little film-short, I didn't exactly come out the victor in the exchange.
--Had to talk to Bob TV about his moving plans, the details of which I don't have the energy to go into. Maybe if you press me hard enough about it, I'll divulge, but for now just know that it was a huge discussion that culminated in a wounded Bob TV (emotionally speaking) and a worn out Kevin. That is precisely why I'm going to end this now. I'm going to unwind--maybe take a soak, do some reading, whatever--and then go to sleep.
Good night.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The hissing of summer lawns
Last night I came downstairs--must have been around ten--and I noticed the front door was wide open. I could hear voices coming from the open window in the living room that faces the porch and I assumed it was Bob TV talking to our neighbor, Steve. I went into the kitchen and saw that the door to Rich's bedroom was open and there was no one inside. I went back into the living room to see what was going on outside, because at that point it was evident that Rich was the one on the porch with Bob TV.
Just as I entered the living room, I could hear Bob TV, like an only child who doesn't know how to play well with others, pouting over Rich's refusal to comply to the letter with Bob TV's direction. I couldn't make out what exactly was going on, but my curiosity was demanding to be sated, so I decided to go out to the porch to seek enlightenment.
Rich stalled my progress by coming in the house. He was holding what looked to be the lower half of a crutch and, smiling broadly, I asked him what they were doing.
"Bob wants to film me shooting a blow dart across the street.", he responded as if it was an ordinary occurrence.
"Okay, come out........now!", Bob TV commanded from the porch. Rich shook his head, rolled his eyes, and like a good soldier, he went out on the porch to fire a dart across the street.
From the living room, I watched Rich stealthily make his way to the porch railing, crouch down and raise his dart gun to his lips. Just as he was about to shoot the dart, Bob TV yelled "cut" and told him the lighting was off. Rich came back in the house and, my curiosity still aroused, I asked him some more questions.
"Is this a scene from a film he's making, or is this some random flight of fancy of his, like the passport thing?"
"I guess he's trying to reproduce a scene from a Hunter Thompson book.", Rich replied. That made sense; Bob TV's been on a Thomson kick these last few weeks. I couldn't contain my laughter, but I tried to keep it subdued so Bob TV wouldn't hear it from the porch. So, in a half-whisper I asked Rich if he was supposed to be Hunter Thompson or a character in one of his books.
"Man, I don't know, but this is starting to get old.", he said dejectedly. From outside, Bob TV hollered for Rich to get ready for another take. Rich rolled his eyes again and I merrily went back to my room. Fucking Bob TV.
--
I went out the park near my house to read this afternoon. A beautiful mound of a park, replete with benches, walkways, and strange medieval towers looming about here and there. I've always intended to spend some time there, but until today I never have. At the crest of the hill I spotted a cute woman in jeans and a t-shirt lying down on the grass reading. I made sure to give her enough space and settled down about fifty ft. away from her. Every once in a while I'd look over at her and she'd be lying on her stomach with her legs kicking up in the air, or some other care free pose. She was barefoot, and though I'd stop well short of calling it a fetish of mine, there's something about a barefoot woman in jeans that scratches me where I itch. So, when I was able, I'd sneak a look or two, careful not to enter creepy territory. But, mostly I read. Seriously.
--
Back to work tomorrow and it's going to be a busy week. I think I'll handle it ok, but I'm not exactly looking forward to it. Better enjoy what remains of my time off while I can.
Just as I entered the living room, I could hear Bob TV, like an only child who doesn't know how to play well with others, pouting over Rich's refusal to comply to the letter with Bob TV's direction. I couldn't make out what exactly was going on, but my curiosity was demanding to be sated, so I decided to go out to the porch to seek enlightenment.
Rich stalled my progress by coming in the house. He was holding what looked to be the lower half of a crutch and, smiling broadly, I asked him what they were doing.
"Bob wants to film me shooting a blow dart across the street.", he responded as if it was an ordinary occurrence.
"Okay, come out........now!", Bob TV commanded from the porch. Rich shook his head, rolled his eyes, and like a good soldier, he went out on the porch to fire a dart across the street.
From the living room, I watched Rich stealthily make his way to the porch railing, crouch down and raise his dart gun to his lips. Just as he was about to shoot the dart, Bob TV yelled "cut" and told him the lighting was off. Rich came back in the house and, my curiosity still aroused, I asked him some more questions.
"Is this a scene from a film he's making, or is this some random flight of fancy of his, like the passport thing?"
"I guess he's trying to reproduce a scene from a Hunter Thompson book.", Rich replied. That made sense; Bob TV's been on a Thomson kick these last few weeks. I couldn't contain my laughter, but I tried to keep it subdued so Bob TV wouldn't hear it from the porch. So, in a half-whisper I asked Rich if he was supposed to be Hunter Thompson or a character in one of his books.
"Man, I don't know, but this is starting to get old.", he said dejectedly. From outside, Bob TV hollered for Rich to get ready for another take. Rich rolled his eyes again and I merrily went back to my room. Fucking Bob TV.
--
I went out the park near my house to read this afternoon. A beautiful mound of a park, replete with benches, walkways, and strange medieval towers looming about here and there. I've always intended to spend some time there, but until today I never have. At the crest of the hill I spotted a cute woman in jeans and a t-shirt lying down on the grass reading. I made sure to give her enough space and settled down about fifty ft. away from her. Every once in a while I'd look over at her and she'd be lying on her stomach with her legs kicking up in the air, or some other care free pose. She was barefoot, and though I'd stop well short of calling it a fetish of mine, there's something about a barefoot woman in jeans that scratches me where I itch. So, when I was able, I'd sneak a look or two, careful not to enter creepy territory. But, mostly I read. Seriously.
--
Back to work tomorrow and it's going to be a busy week. I think I'll handle it ok, but I'm not exactly looking forward to it. Better enjoy what remains of my time off while I can.
Monday, August 27, 2007
The first time ever I saw your face, I thought the sun rose in your eyes
Just finished watching Inland Empire and it was a strange experience, which, considering it's a David Lynch film, is stating the obvious. I would watch an hour of it, take a nap, watch an other hour, take another nap, and during the third and final hour of it, I ate a thai tofu wrap that I got at the Blue Shirt Cafe. That last bit of information is hardly pertinent, but the wrap was tasty, so I figure a small plug is the least I can offer.
While at the Blue Shirt waiting for my food, I stepped outside and sorted through some dvds the little dollar store next door was displaying outside. The first dvd I saw was The Impossible Man, a film I've been dying to see, but could never find, starring one of the best, and smallest action heroes in celluloid history, Weng Weng. If you've been a reader of this blog, you may recall me raving about Weng Weng and the film For Your Height Only. I spent a buck--well, two, because I bought Luke Warm a copy-- on The Impossible Man, and if I watch that, along with Ordinary People, one of my favorite films, my dreams tonight will be sure to more surreal than usual.
--
Bob TV informed me this morning, after barreling into the kitchen wearing only his Hawaiian boxers and upsetting my post sleep quietude, that he had only gotten four hours of sleep due to insomnia. As it was only eight thirty, I suggested he go back to bed and catch up on some sleep. "Nah,' he said, ' I'll be alright if I don't smoke too much pot today."
When he left the room, it occurred to me that insomnia had nothing to do with his lack of sleep, unless, of course, by insomnia he meant on-line poker, but I don't think so. I know this because his room is next to mine, and day and night I hear the clacking of simulated poker chips coming from behind his door. Someone likes his gambling a little too much, me thinks.
I haven't thought about it too much, but after this week, I'll probably never see Bob TV again. Strange how that works; you live with someone for a year and then one day, "poof", they're gone. Who knows, maybe I'll see him more than I think. He's already talking about staying here when he comes to town to visit.
Speaking of Bob TV, the other night I was making my way out the door when I cam upon him unscrewing light bulbs from various lamps he had gathered around himself. "What are you doing?", I asked.
"I'm trying to find the proper lighting so I can take a passport photo."
"Are you leaving the country any time soon?"
"Well, no, but I was just reading on-line that you can, provided you follow the proper guidelines, take your own passport photo. I can save money this way."
"Good luck with that", I said as I made my way to leave.
"Actually, I need a shooter for this project. It'll only take a minute. Would you mind?"
It's been my experience that when someone tells me something will only take a minute, it will most certainly not. I was amused at the situation, though, so I agreed to help him. How difficult could it be?
I ended up taking about fifteen shots of him in the living room and about six or seven more in the kitchen. He had me try all sorts of different angles and sometimes had me hold the camera in one hand while holding a lamp in the other. If it wasn't such a comical spectacle, it would have been annoying, or rather, more annoying than it already was.
"Okay, raise the lamp an inch higher and to your left. Make sure not to frame any lower than my shoulders while you do it."
"Alright, those last six shots were good, but lets really try to nail it this time. Remember to avoid shadows and lets make sure the shot comes out level."
Right as I was about to tell him I'd had enough, he told me he thought he had what he needed and thanked me for my help. I left the house smiling at Bob TV and his arbitrariness.
--
For those of you keeping track, the Celtics just signed James Posey, a great bear of a defender who can also shoot. Now they have a formidable bench. I cannot wait until the season starts.
--
I'm fixing to start a game night at my place in the coming weeks. The idea is to get people together and play a board game. I don't know if we should play the same game every week-- you know, have a Monopoly night like people have Poker night-- or should we play a different game every week. Anyway, the idea is to get people together and board games are always fun, so why not do it?
Or perhaps we could just take passport photos of each other.
While at the Blue Shirt waiting for my food, I stepped outside and sorted through some dvds the little dollar store next door was displaying outside. The first dvd I saw was The Impossible Man, a film I've been dying to see, but could never find, starring one of the best, and smallest action heroes in celluloid history, Weng Weng. If you've been a reader of this blog, you may recall me raving about Weng Weng and the film For Your Height Only. I spent a buck--well, two, because I bought Luke Warm a copy-- on The Impossible Man, and if I watch that, along with Ordinary People, one of my favorite films, my dreams tonight will be sure to more surreal than usual.
--
Bob TV informed me this morning, after barreling into the kitchen wearing only his Hawaiian boxers and upsetting my post sleep quietude, that he had only gotten four hours of sleep due to insomnia. As it was only eight thirty, I suggested he go back to bed and catch up on some sleep. "Nah,' he said, ' I'll be alright if I don't smoke too much pot today."
When he left the room, it occurred to me that insomnia had nothing to do with his lack of sleep, unless, of course, by insomnia he meant on-line poker, but I don't think so. I know this because his room is next to mine, and day and night I hear the clacking of simulated poker chips coming from behind his door. Someone likes his gambling a little too much, me thinks.
I haven't thought about it too much, but after this week, I'll probably never see Bob TV again. Strange how that works; you live with someone for a year and then one day, "poof", they're gone. Who knows, maybe I'll see him more than I think. He's already talking about staying here when he comes to town to visit.
Speaking of Bob TV, the other night I was making my way out the door when I cam upon him unscrewing light bulbs from various lamps he had gathered around himself. "What are you doing?", I asked.
"I'm trying to find the proper lighting so I can take a passport photo."
"Are you leaving the country any time soon?"
"Well, no, but I was just reading on-line that you can, provided you follow the proper guidelines, take your own passport photo. I can save money this way."
"Good luck with that", I said as I made my way to leave.
"Actually, I need a shooter for this project. It'll only take a minute. Would you mind?"
It's been my experience that when someone tells me something will only take a minute, it will most certainly not. I was amused at the situation, though, so I agreed to help him. How difficult could it be?
I ended up taking about fifteen shots of him in the living room and about six or seven more in the kitchen. He had me try all sorts of different angles and sometimes had me hold the camera in one hand while holding a lamp in the other. If it wasn't such a comical spectacle, it would have been annoying, or rather, more annoying than it already was.
"Okay, raise the lamp an inch higher and to your left. Make sure not to frame any lower than my shoulders while you do it."
"Alright, those last six shots were good, but lets really try to nail it this time. Remember to avoid shadows and lets make sure the shot comes out level."
Right as I was about to tell him I'd had enough, he told me he thought he had what he needed and thanked me for my help. I left the house smiling at Bob TV and his arbitrariness.
--
For those of you keeping track, the Celtics just signed James Posey, a great bear of a defender who can also shoot. Now they have a formidable bench. I cannot wait until the season starts.
--
I'm fixing to start a game night at my place in the coming weeks. The idea is to get people together and play a board game. I don't know if we should play the same game every week-- you know, have a Monopoly night like people have Poker night-- or should we play a different game every week. Anyway, the idea is to get people together and board games are always fun, so why not do it?
Or perhaps we could just take passport photos of each other.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Let's reconstruct the past because the future won't last
I watched the last episode of Rome and there will be no more forthcoming. They could have gone so much further with the show, but apparently it was too expensive a venture to maintain. Still, though, when you're dealing with such high quality, you'd like to think the money would come from somewhere. I guess the ratings weren't so good, either, so it made sense for them to cancel the show. Doesn't mean I have to like it. I hope HBO gives A Song of Ice and Fire more than two seasons, especially considering each season will cover one of the books, which, when all is said and done, will amount to six or seven.
--
It's amazing to me how overlooked The Kinks album Arthur has been. It was released in '69 and it is as, or more, impressive than many of the so called great albums from that era. I can't believe it is hasn't gotten a fair shake, I really can't. Oh, well, it will be our little secret, then.
--
While running at the track yesterday, I saw something perched on the fence a few feet ahead of me. As I got closer, I realized it was a hawk. It just sat there and watched me run by. I later discovered that it had a pigeon nearby that it was munching on. I used to see hawks all the time at my parent's house. My dad used to race pigeons and would often let them out of the coop so they could get some exercise. That's when the hawks would arrive. They preyed on a lot of my dad's birds. He would have taken measures to remedy the situation, but he was too much in awe of them. One time, we saw a hawk sitting on a tree stump next to the coop and wondered what it was up to. It remained there for close to a half hour. Finally, it flew away and when we inspected the area where it was perched, we noticed that there was a pigeon missing it's head nearby. I asked my dad if we should take it to the vet, but he didn't think the vet would be able to help it. My dad's so smart.
--
To get over the absence of my beloved Rome, I'm going to watch A Very Long Engagement and will try to watch Inland Empire, too. Somewhere in between, I'll work on some music.
Ok, that's all I've got. You're dismissed.
--
It's amazing to me how overlooked The Kinks album Arthur has been. It was released in '69 and it is as, or more, impressive than many of the so called great albums from that era. I can't believe it is hasn't gotten a fair shake, I really can't. Oh, well, it will be our little secret, then.
--
While running at the track yesterday, I saw something perched on the fence a few feet ahead of me. As I got closer, I realized it was a hawk. It just sat there and watched me run by. I later discovered that it had a pigeon nearby that it was munching on. I used to see hawks all the time at my parent's house. My dad used to race pigeons and would often let them out of the coop so they could get some exercise. That's when the hawks would arrive. They preyed on a lot of my dad's birds. He would have taken measures to remedy the situation, but he was too much in awe of them. One time, we saw a hawk sitting on a tree stump next to the coop and wondered what it was up to. It remained there for close to a half hour. Finally, it flew away and when we inspected the area where it was perched, we noticed that there was a pigeon missing it's head nearby. I asked my dad if we should take it to the vet, but he didn't think the vet would be able to help it. My dad's so smart.
--
To get over the absence of my beloved Rome, I'm going to watch A Very Long Engagement and will try to watch Inland Empire, too. Somewhere in between, I'll work on some music.
Ok, that's all I've got. You're dismissed.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Jenny, don't go home now
Gio worked today and he was hardly the repentant figure I expected to encounter. Rather, he didn't do much of anything and copped a mighty attitude. I asked him to clean one of our supply rooms after he informed me he wasn't going to do any deliveries, and when I checked to see his progress a half hour later, nothing had been accomplished. I was pissed, because he was pushing my buttons and making a confrontation inevitable. I found him in the warehouse, sitting down and talking on the cell phone. When I asked him why he didn't clean the room like I asked him to, he shrugged and told me he was overwhelmed at the prospect of cleaning it. I shit you not, that is what he said. I let it be and walked away, waiting until the end of the day when Karen and I were going to sit down with him to air my grievances.
In the meantime, there was Jenny. For at least a few months now, I've been doing business with Jenny over the phone. She works at another rental place in Dorchester that we get equipment from when we're short, and we hit it off immediately. She was new, but her customer service skills were superb, which made talking with her a joy. Karen had spoken with her a couple of times and we both agreed she would be a great addition to our place. I tried recruiting her once, but she politely declined the offer; she lived too close to her job to want to leave it.
I always thought it was mildly amusing that she'd call me hon' when we'd talk. I never actually thought I was the only customer she called that---most likely, she calls a large percentage of her customers that---but I did, on occasion, wonder. Not knowing much about her, what she looked like, etc., I wasn't exactly swooning over her. For the most part, I just enjoyed talking with her; after dealing with pricks and bitches all day, hearing her voice on the phone was a ray of light stabbing through the murk.
One time I sent Al over to her work to get pick up some stuff and when he came back he had a big smile on his face. He told me Jenny was a little curt with him but when she asked about me, her face lit up. I found that terribly amusing, but my curiosity was piqued. "She called you honey!", Al blurted out.
"So what does she look like?", I asked him. I half expected him to tell me she was a stooped, middle-aged woman who smells like cat urine and cigarettes, but instead he replied, "Man, she was cute. She has these amazing gray eyes! You should totally go for her."
I dismissed the suggestion, though it was beginning to sound more appealing, and moved on to other things. This week, I spoke to her a few times because we needed to get some plates. I sent Al over to pick them up and when he returned, he had the big smile on his face again.
"I'm telling you, man, she really likes you. You've got to move on this", he said.
He went on to explain that Jenny had again asked about me and that, according to him, she was interested. Again, I found the situation to be humorous. I strongly doubted this woman would have a thing for someone she rarely speaks to on the phone and doesn't know what he looks like, to boot. However, she did ask me for my cell phone number when I placed the order, which was a little odd. Why would she need that when she already had our work number? Hmmm.
I had to send Al back over to get more stuff at her place today and when he came back he pulled out his phone and said "See what I do for you". He gave me the phone and there was a picture of Jenny. The bastard took a shot of her surreptitiously while he was at the counter with her. I scolded him about respecting people's privacy, but my heart wasn't in it. The scolding morphed into a "You magnificent bastard! You did good", speech. Now I know what she looks like, and he was right, she is cute.
Karen came in after lunch and near the end of the day, we took Gio aside and had a talk. The nuts and bolts of the discussion can be summed up thusly: If Gio doesn't shape up immediately, he will not be invited back. Ever. He's got some anger issues, but he's really a sweet guy. When he was talking with us, he became teary-eyed. Instead of firing him, I wanted to give him a hug. I didn't act on it because I feared it would sully the macho veneer he's built up over the years. Instead, I took him into the bathroom for a courtesy make-out session. It was touching, I tell you.
After our talk with Gio, Karen called Jenny to ask a billing question. When she got off the phone she asked me if I had talked to her yet about her working with us. I told her I had and that she had declined. I told her Jenny was in possession of my cell phone number, so at the very least I could ask her out on a date. Karen went with the idea and suggested I date her and get her to move in with me and then we could get her to work with us. I guess Karen doesn't have a problem with couples working together.
So will Jenny, not knowing what I look like, call me now that she's acquired my phone number? I have no idea, and I'm not going to dwell on it. It would make things interesting, to be sure.
In the meantime, there was Jenny. For at least a few months now, I've been doing business with Jenny over the phone. She works at another rental place in Dorchester that we get equipment from when we're short, and we hit it off immediately. She was new, but her customer service skills were superb, which made talking with her a joy. Karen had spoken with her a couple of times and we both agreed she would be a great addition to our place. I tried recruiting her once, but she politely declined the offer; she lived too close to her job to want to leave it.
I always thought it was mildly amusing that she'd call me hon' when we'd talk. I never actually thought I was the only customer she called that---most likely, she calls a large percentage of her customers that---but I did, on occasion, wonder. Not knowing much about her, what she looked like, etc., I wasn't exactly swooning over her. For the most part, I just enjoyed talking with her; after dealing with pricks and bitches all day, hearing her voice on the phone was a ray of light stabbing through the murk.
One time I sent Al over to her work to get pick up some stuff and when he came back he had a big smile on his face. He told me Jenny was a little curt with him but when she asked about me, her face lit up. I found that terribly amusing, but my curiosity was piqued. "She called you honey!", Al blurted out.
"So what does she look like?", I asked him. I half expected him to tell me she was a stooped, middle-aged woman who smells like cat urine and cigarettes, but instead he replied, "Man, she was cute. She has these amazing gray eyes! You should totally go for her."
I dismissed the suggestion, though it was beginning to sound more appealing, and moved on to other things. This week, I spoke to her a few times because we needed to get some plates. I sent Al over to pick them up and when he returned, he had the big smile on his face again.
"I'm telling you, man, she really likes you. You've got to move on this", he said.
He went on to explain that Jenny had again asked about me and that, according to him, she was interested. Again, I found the situation to be humorous. I strongly doubted this woman would have a thing for someone she rarely speaks to on the phone and doesn't know what he looks like, to boot. However, she did ask me for my cell phone number when I placed the order, which was a little odd. Why would she need that when she already had our work number? Hmmm.
I had to send Al back over to get more stuff at her place today and when he came back he pulled out his phone and said "See what I do for you". He gave me the phone and there was a picture of Jenny. The bastard took a shot of her surreptitiously while he was at the counter with her. I scolded him about respecting people's privacy, but my heart wasn't in it. The scolding morphed into a "You magnificent bastard! You did good", speech. Now I know what she looks like, and he was right, she is cute.
Karen came in after lunch and near the end of the day, we took Gio aside and had a talk. The nuts and bolts of the discussion can be summed up thusly: If Gio doesn't shape up immediately, he will not be invited back. Ever. He's got some anger issues, but he's really a sweet guy. When he was talking with us, he became teary-eyed. Instead of firing him, I wanted to give him a hug. I didn't act on it because I feared it would sully the macho veneer he's built up over the years. Instead, I took him into the bathroom for a courtesy make-out session. It was touching, I tell you.
After our talk with Gio, Karen called Jenny to ask a billing question. When she got off the phone she asked me if I had talked to her yet about her working with us. I told her I had and that she had declined. I told her Jenny was in possession of my cell phone number, so at the very least I could ask her out on a date. Karen went with the idea and suggested I date her and get her to move in with me and then we could get her to work with us. I guess Karen doesn't have a problem with couples working together.
So will Jenny, not knowing what I look like, call me now that she's acquired my phone number? I have no idea, and I'm not going to dwell on it. It would make things interesting, to be sure.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
We have a remedy you'll appreciate
I should be more tired than I feel. I only got a few hours of sleep last night and the sleep I did get wasn't of the restful variety. Amanda left after we finished watching Hell Date, a show I'd never seen before and one I'd watch again. That was around 12:30. I went to bed soon after she left and despite feeling as if I'd drift off to sleep before shutting off the light, I ended up getting caught up in worrying thoughts and strange, feverish images.
I felt good at work today and though my energy was on the decline near the end of my shift, I made it a point to go to the track and do some running. I'm happy I did. Upon waking this morning, my first thought went something like this: "Today there will be no running. Today is a day of rest."I vetoed the thought not because I subscribe to the "no pain, no gain" motto, but because sometimes you've got to exceed expectations and really push yourself. To sum it up, immediately after a run I always walk past a light pole with a sticker on it that asks "How much of it is up to you?", and I always respond, with heavy breathing and shaking legs, "It's all up to me". Whoever put that sticker up has my gratitude.
My first day back at work today and Gio threw one of his famous tantrums and walked out. He did this within the first hour of work and I hadn't even talked to him yet. I was on the phone with Karen, going over the plan for the day, when Gio stormed into the showroom and went off on Ryan, telling him he wasn't going to go on any deliveries by himself. He used plenty of expletives and I'm pretty sure he frightened the lone customer in attendance. When Ryan told him we'd send John with him, he left anyway.
I figured this was it for Gio. He called me a couple of hours later and told me he quit, that he would not be back in ever again. I relayed this message to Karen and it seemed that she'd finally had enough of his shenanigans. Well, Karen just called me and told me Gio called her and told her he really needed to come back to work, that he was sorry for what he did. She told him that even though the two of them go back a long way, he doesn't have any history with me and he needs to give me an apology. She told him the three of us will have to sit down and talk it through and see what results. She even offered to pay for anger management counseling for him! This guy better know that at almost any other job, he would have been fired long ago, and they certainly wouldn't have offered to pay for counseling.
Gio is a good guy when he's not throwing a tantrum and besides that, he has children to take care of. Even still, I think he should be let go. If we let him back, the bar will be set very, very low. But he and Karen go back a long way and that is what's keeping him afloat. Even Ryan, the one who defended him in the past, wants him gone. Gio has no more allies except Karen, and that's the only one he needs. So tomorrow I've got to deal with Gio. Again. A perpetual nightmare this is.
I wish I could divulge a troubling development, but I can't. At least not yet. Christ, I don't even know if it's troubling! If it pans out the way I hope it doesn't, I think I may have to say fuck it and go build a shack in the woods somewhere and live a solitary life. Oh, the frustration!
With that, I'm going to try to get to bed early tonight and catch up on some sleep. I will tell myself before sleep overtakes me that I'm only what I perceive myself to be.
How much is up to me? Every single fucking bit of it!
I felt good at work today and though my energy was on the decline near the end of my shift, I made it a point to go to the track and do some running. I'm happy I did. Upon waking this morning, my first thought went something like this: "Today there will be no running. Today is a day of rest."I vetoed the thought not because I subscribe to the "no pain, no gain" motto, but because sometimes you've got to exceed expectations and really push yourself. To sum it up, immediately after a run I always walk past a light pole with a sticker on it that asks "How much of it is up to you?", and I always respond, with heavy breathing and shaking legs, "It's all up to me". Whoever put that sticker up has my gratitude.
My first day back at work today and Gio threw one of his famous tantrums and walked out. He did this within the first hour of work and I hadn't even talked to him yet. I was on the phone with Karen, going over the plan for the day, when Gio stormed into the showroom and went off on Ryan, telling him he wasn't going to go on any deliveries by himself. He used plenty of expletives and I'm pretty sure he frightened the lone customer in attendance. When Ryan told him we'd send John with him, he left anyway.
I figured this was it for Gio. He called me a couple of hours later and told me he quit, that he would not be back in ever again. I relayed this message to Karen and it seemed that she'd finally had enough of his shenanigans. Well, Karen just called me and told me Gio called her and told her he really needed to come back to work, that he was sorry for what he did. She told him that even though the two of them go back a long way, he doesn't have any history with me and he needs to give me an apology. She told him the three of us will have to sit down and talk it through and see what results. She even offered to pay for anger management counseling for him! This guy better know that at almost any other job, he would have been fired long ago, and they certainly wouldn't have offered to pay for counseling.
Gio is a good guy when he's not throwing a tantrum and besides that, he has children to take care of. Even still, I think he should be let go. If we let him back, the bar will be set very, very low. But he and Karen go back a long way and that is what's keeping him afloat. Even Ryan, the one who defended him in the past, wants him gone. Gio has no more allies except Karen, and that's the only one he needs. So tomorrow I've got to deal with Gio. Again. A perpetual nightmare this is.
I wish I could divulge a troubling development, but I can't. At least not yet. Christ, I don't even know if it's troubling! If it pans out the way I hope it doesn't, I think I may have to say fuck it and go build a shack in the woods somewhere and live a solitary life. Oh, the frustration!
With that, I'm going to try to get to bed early tonight and catch up on some sleep. I will tell myself before sleep overtakes me that I'm only what I perceive myself to be.
How much is up to me? Every single fucking bit of it!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
People take pictures of the summer just in case someone thought they had missed it
I felt like ass earlier today---headache, lethargic, feverish---but yet when I dragged myself over to the track, I had perhaps the best run I've ever had. Go figure.
I've been listening to The Kinks almost exclusively for the last couple of weeks. The Village Green Preservation Society, Lola vs. Powerman, and Muswell Hillbillies, have been the albums of choice. My first ever record was their Give the People What They Want, and I literally wore out its grooves. I'm happy my first favorite band turned out to be one of the best ever. I think it's about time I branch out and listen to something else for a change. Rich just lent me a new Melvins record, so maybe I 'll try that on for size.
It's back to work for me tomorrow, but it'll be a short three days before my next days off. When I was in Maine, I talked to my mother a bit about my job and we both agreed that as far as jobs go, this one isn't so bad. However, this is not a job that caters to my talents, such as they are. Who knows if I'll ever be bold enough to propel myself out of the pen of the familiar and set myself to exploring just what it is I should be doing. I'm confident it'll happen soon enough. In the meantime, the job I have will suffice.
Going to hang out with Amanda after she gets out of work tonight. She'll be driving over in her new car, which I know she's pleased to have, considering she's been without one for a while. Our plan is to go out for some ice cream, but I think we'll end up going mailboxing, instead.
The summer is waning and if I wasn't such a big fan of autumn, I'd lament it's passing like a lost lover.
I've been listening to The Kinks almost exclusively for the last couple of weeks. The Village Green Preservation Society, Lola vs. Powerman, and Muswell Hillbillies, have been the albums of choice. My first ever record was their Give the People What They Want, and I literally wore out its grooves. I'm happy my first favorite band turned out to be one of the best ever. I think it's about time I branch out and listen to something else for a change. Rich just lent me a new Melvins record, so maybe I 'll try that on for size.
It's back to work for me tomorrow, but it'll be a short three days before my next days off. When I was in Maine, I talked to my mother a bit about my job and we both agreed that as far as jobs go, this one isn't so bad. However, this is not a job that caters to my talents, such as they are. Who knows if I'll ever be bold enough to propel myself out of the pen of the familiar and set myself to exploring just what it is I should be doing. I'm confident it'll happen soon enough. In the meantime, the job I have will suffice.
Going to hang out with Amanda after she gets out of work tonight. She'll be driving over in her new car, which I know she's pleased to have, considering she's been without one for a while. Our plan is to go out for some ice cream, but I think we'll end up going mailboxing, instead.
The summer is waning and if I wasn't such a big fan of autumn, I'd lament it's passing like a lost lover.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
And if I live too long I'm afraid I'll die
I'm back from Maine and happy to have returned to a more or less quiet environment. I had a good time, though, better than I expected. When I arrived on Sunday, my sister and her family had only been at the house for a couple of hours. My nephew, Patrick, who is about two years old, was crying away as I carried my luggage into the house. I was ready for the aural assault. Or so I thought.
As I said hello to my parents, grandmother, et al, I noticed that all of the lights were on. When I inquired why this was so, my father explained to me Patrick would cry if any lights were off. Well, he's crying now with all the lights on, so why not shut them off, I thought to myself. I brought my stuff to the bedroom upstairs and the lights were on. I found it a shade odd that my family followed my nephews desires to the letter. Did the lights upstairs have to be on, as well? Guess they weren't leaving anything to chance.
Patrick cried up until the second I left today. From Sunday to Tuesday he bawled his eyes out, stopping only for naps and the occasional ten minute respite between fits. He would cry if you looked at him. He would cry if someone dropped a feather next to him. Fuck, he cried just for the sake of crying.
I felt bad for my sister. Rich, her husband had gone home Monday morning morning, leaving her to tend to Patrick. We knew she was embarrassed by his behavior and did our best to assure her that he was just doing what babies do, but after a while, when the wailing hasn't ebbed, it's hard to say that and sound convincing.
After dinner on Sunday, Kiley asked me about fifty seven times to take her out in the kayak. I told her about fifty seven times I would if it was alright with her mother. When she acquired permission, we set out, with Shannon, Kiley's twin sister, in the kayak. Kiley wanted to go fast, Shannon wanted to go at a snail's pace, and I just wanted some symmetry in our rowing. About halfway to our destination, a marshy area Kiley had dubbed "Kiley Island", I had had enough of the jerky motion and frequent splashes of water in my face their rowing was producing, so I, in my deepest sailor's voice, bellowed "HEAVE, HO....HEAVE HO.....HEAVE HO" . They followed suit, and we began to row as one. Despite a failed mutiny and having to dodge Shannon's oar on several occasions in order to keep my head intact, the trip was a success, if only because it provided a respite from Patrick's demonic bawling. (When I say demonic, I'm only half-kidding. I'm telling you, this kid, who is usually so quiet you hardly even know he's in the room, was acting like he was possessed. I should have grabbed the holy water out of my glove compartment and gone at him like Father Merrin. "The power of Christ compels you!The power of Christ compels you!"
I managed to get a lot of reading done. Before heading up to Maine, I went to Barnes and Noble and purchased a book called "The Name of the Wind" by Patrick Rothfuss. I'd read a lot of great things about it and finally bit the bullet and got it. A big, fat brick of a book, I managed to read about a quarter of it. I haven't read such an imaginative, fully realized, and assured, book in a long time. I'm going to dive back into it tonight.
To work off the fattening food that was prevalent in the house, I went for a scenic jog along the water yesterday afternoon. And after dinner, sensing my sister needed to get away from the house, I asked her to take a walk with me. She complied, and we took the same route I took for my jog. We had a nice conversation and her mood brightened.
Afterward, we all played Uno and had a great time. We played only one hand because it took an hour to complete. Kiley beat us all because she's so sweet, I didn't feel the sting of defeat. And yes, I know I just rhymed. Sue me.
My sister and I walked down to Buffleheads, a cozy little restaurant down the street, for lunch today and each got a lobster roll. Amanda called just as I was ordering. When I picked up, she was gone. We'd been playing phone tag since the day before, and I was frustrated I missed her again. Probably better that I did, because our conversation would have had to have been short because we were just about to eat.
Before I left today, I grabbed my mp3 player and headed across the street to the beach. The tide was out so I was able to walk to the island via the sandbar. I put on some madrigals by Gesualdo and away I went.
It was a good trip overall. I had some quality alone time with my mother and talked to her about some personal issues I was having that no one else knew about and I told her about my heart's adoration for a certain woman, an adoration that won't be quelled, despite my best efforts. My mother gave me some good advice on both counts, telling me she'd help me with the former and imploring me to go with my heart on the latter. I told her I had no choice. The heart wants what the heart wants. And it won't be overruled easily. Don't I know it.
As I said hello to my parents, grandmother, et al, I noticed that all of the lights were on. When I inquired why this was so, my father explained to me Patrick would cry if any lights were off. Well, he's crying now with all the lights on, so why not shut them off, I thought to myself. I brought my stuff to the bedroom upstairs and the lights were on. I found it a shade odd that my family followed my nephews desires to the letter. Did the lights upstairs have to be on, as well? Guess they weren't leaving anything to chance.
Patrick cried up until the second I left today. From Sunday to Tuesday he bawled his eyes out, stopping only for naps and the occasional ten minute respite between fits. He would cry if you looked at him. He would cry if someone dropped a feather next to him. Fuck, he cried just for the sake of crying.
I felt bad for my sister. Rich, her husband had gone home Monday morning morning, leaving her to tend to Patrick. We knew she was embarrassed by his behavior and did our best to assure her that he was just doing what babies do, but after a while, when the wailing hasn't ebbed, it's hard to say that and sound convincing.
After dinner on Sunday, Kiley asked me about fifty seven times to take her out in the kayak. I told her about fifty seven times I would if it was alright with her mother. When she acquired permission, we set out, with Shannon, Kiley's twin sister, in the kayak. Kiley wanted to go fast, Shannon wanted to go at a snail's pace, and I just wanted some symmetry in our rowing. About halfway to our destination, a marshy area Kiley had dubbed "Kiley Island", I had had enough of the jerky motion and frequent splashes of water in my face their rowing was producing, so I, in my deepest sailor's voice, bellowed "HEAVE, HO....HEAVE HO.....HEAVE HO" . They followed suit, and we began to row as one. Despite a failed mutiny and having to dodge Shannon's oar on several occasions in order to keep my head intact, the trip was a success, if only because it provided a respite from Patrick's demonic bawling. (When I say demonic, I'm only half-kidding. I'm telling you, this kid, who is usually so quiet you hardly even know he's in the room, was acting like he was possessed. I should have grabbed the holy water out of my glove compartment and gone at him like Father Merrin. "The power of Christ compels you!The power of Christ compels you!"
I managed to get a lot of reading done. Before heading up to Maine, I went to Barnes and Noble and purchased a book called "The Name of the Wind" by Patrick Rothfuss. I'd read a lot of great things about it and finally bit the bullet and got it. A big, fat brick of a book, I managed to read about a quarter of it. I haven't read such an imaginative, fully realized, and assured, book in a long time. I'm going to dive back into it tonight.
To work off the fattening food that was prevalent in the house, I went for a scenic jog along the water yesterday afternoon. And after dinner, sensing my sister needed to get away from the house, I asked her to take a walk with me. She complied, and we took the same route I took for my jog. We had a nice conversation and her mood brightened.
Afterward, we all played Uno and had a great time. We played only one hand because it took an hour to complete. Kiley beat us all because she's so sweet, I didn't feel the sting of defeat. And yes, I know I just rhymed. Sue me.
My sister and I walked down to Buffleheads, a cozy little restaurant down the street, for lunch today and each got a lobster roll. Amanda called just as I was ordering. When I picked up, she was gone. We'd been playing phone tag since the day before, and I was frustrated I missed her again. Probably better that I did, because our conversation would have had to have been short because we were just about to eat.
Before I left today, I grabbed my mp3 player and headed across the street to the beach. The tide was out so I was able to walk to the island via the sandbar. I put on some madrigals by Gesualdo and away I went.
It was a good trip overall. I had some quality alone time with my mother and talked to her about some personal issues I was having that no one else knew about and I told her about my heart's adoration for a certain woman, an adoration that won't be quelled, despite my best efforts. My mother gave me some good advice on both counts, telling me she'd help me with the former and imploring me to go with my heart on the latter. I told her I had no choice. The heart wants what the heart wants. And it won't be overruled easily. Don't I know it.
Friday, August 17, 2007
In a world full of friends, you lose your way
I read on Whitley Strieber's website that many feel that something major will go down this weekend. They base this information on recent crop circles that have formed in England. I'm not exactly sure how, but they feel the crop circles point to the 18th and/or19th and the message being sent isn't exactly cheery. We're pretty much told on a daily basis that the end of the world is nigh, so I'm not quite freaking out about this weekend. With elements of our government almost gleefully telling anyone who'll listen that it's not a matter of "if" but a matter of "when" the "terrorists" will attack us again, I'm taking everything with a grain of salt. Otherwise, may as well hang myself.
--
After dinner tonight, I felt sleepy so I plopped myself down on my bed and drifted off to sleep for about twenty minutes. I woke up feeling a little depressed and regretful. I don't know why, but throughout my life, this sometimes occurs upon waking from a nap. Maybe it's because I venture off to someplace nicer when I sleep. In case you're concerned, I'm fine now. Really, I am. But you were never that concerned, were you?
--
Haven't been camping all summer and I think a trip to Vermont, to our beloved campsite, is overdue. Back in the day, we'd head up there, a big group of us, at least twice during the summer. Now? Well, now we're older and have different lifestyles and responsibilities which makes it difficult to get together at all, never mind for an entire weekend or two. It's a little sad, but it's life and it happens to everyone. Things change; sometimes to our advantage and sometimes to our detriment.
--
Off to watch "Rome" and then who knows.
--
After dinner tonight, I felt sleepy so I plopped myself down on my bed and drifted off to sleep for about twenty minutes. I woke up feeling a little depressed and regretful. I don't know why, but throughout my life, this sometimes occurs upon waking from a nap. Maybe it's because I venture off to someplace nicer when I sleep. In case you're concerned, I'm fine now. Really, I am. But you were never that concerned, were you?
--
Haven't been camping all summer and I think a trip to Vermont, to our beloved campsite, is overdue. Back in the day, we'd head up there, a big group of us, at least twice during the summer. Now? Well, now we're older and have different lifestyles and responsibilities which makes it difficult to get together at all, never mind for an entire weekend or two. It's a little sad, but it's life and it happens to everyone. Things change; sometimes to our advantage and sometimes to our detriment.
--
Off to watch "Rome" and then who knows.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Singles going steady
Man, is she beautiful! If I told her that---and I did, though I phrased it in a much more subdued way than the way I feel, which is jaw-dropping DAMNNNN!!---I'm afraid I'd come off like an overzealous creep. So, I went for the subdued approach. Baby steps are still progress. Someday, oh someday....
--
My cousin Brian was shot the other day in Iraq. A bullet went through his vest, nicked a lung, and came out the other side. He was sent back to the states and from what I'm told, he's in good condition. His father was a career military man, retiring as a General at an Air force base I forget the name of, and his mother is a staunch Republican and supporter of the war in Iraq. When my dad told me the news today, he wondered if my Aunt and Uncle's faith in the war effort has diminished now that their son has been shot up. I don't know the answer to that, but they're good people, despite their politics, and I'm laying a prayer at the feet of the gods that my cousin has a speedy recovery.
--
I've commented before about how Rich makes it a priority to sneak in a shit before I use the bathroom in the morning. Well, now Bob TV has joined the fun. I tell you, it's a revolving door down there; I sit in wonderment as I eat breakfast at the fact that I have to immerse myself in the combined stench those two pricks leave behind. What a way to start the morning.
Well, in a small way I got back at Rich today. I was in the bathroom letting one go when I heard him come in the back door, go into his room, and then come out the other side by the bathroom. Then, when he noticed the bathroom was occupied, he went back into his room. When I had finished a minute or two later and went back to my room, I heard the bathroom door close. Payback is the sweetest of fruits, you son of a bitch! Hope you had to hold your breath the entire time.
--
I'm giddy at the thought that in a matter of minutes I'll be watching an episode or two of "Rome". Simply put, the show is incredible. I'm going to put a dent in "The Lies of Locke Lamora" sometime tonight. I'm almost finished and I'm eager to read the follow up, "Red Seas Under Red Skies". Maybe, I'll get it before I head up to Maine this weekend.
Maine. I'm slightly dreading the prospect of going up there to visit my family. It's a great spot in Biddeford, right on the water, and is a quiet, peaceful place. Provided the house isn't packed to the gills with ten people, four of them children. I love my nieces and nephew, but I'm not used to constant crying and yelling. My grandmother will be there, too, and she's hard of hearing. The only way to talk to her is VERY LOUDLY. I won't be surprised this time around, when I'm ripped out of my sleep by my mother or someone bellowing " MOM, CAN I GET YOU SOME JUICE? NO, I SAID JUICE. I....NO, I SAID JUICE. WOULD YOU LIKE SOME JUICE? IS THAT A YES, MOM? WHAT KIND WOULD YOU LIKE? I SAID WHAT KIND..." And so it goes. Ah, but they're family and I love them. It won't be so bad.
--
My cousin Brian was shot the other day in Iraq. A bullet went through his vest, nicked a lung, and came out the other side. He was sent back to the states and from what I'm told, he's in good condition. His father was a career military man, retiring as a General at an Air force base I forget the name of, and his mother is a staunch Republican and supporter of the war in Iraq. When my dad told me the news today, he wondered if my Aunt and Uncle's faith in the war effort has diminished now that their son has been shot up. I don't know the answer to that, but they're good people, despite their politics, and I'm laying a prayer at the feet of the gods that my cousin has a speedy recovery.
--
I've commented before about how Rich makes it a priority to sneak in a shit before I use the bathroom in the morning. Well, now Bob TV has joined the fun. I tell you, it's a revolving door down there; I sit in wonderment as I eat breakfast at the fact that I have to immerse myself in the combined stench those two pricks leave behind. What a way to start the morning.
Well, in a small way I got back at Rich today. I was in the bathroom letting one go when I heard him come in the back door, go into his room, and then come out the other side by the bathroom. Then, when he noticed the bathroom was occupied, he went back into his room. When I had finished a minute or two later and went back to my room, I heard the bathroom door close. Payback is the sweetest of fruits, you son of a bitch! Hope you had to hold your breath the entire time.
--
I'm giddy at the thought that in a matter of minutes I'll be watching an episode or two of "Rome". Simply put, the show is incredible. I'm going to put a dent in "The Lies of Locke Lamora" sometime tonight. I'm almost finished and I'm eager to read the follow up, "Red Seas Under Red Skies". Maybe, I'll get it before I head up to Maine this weekend.
Maine. I'm slightly dreading the prospect of going up there to visit my family. It's a great spot in Biddeford, right on the water, and is a quiet, peaceful place. Provided the house isn't packed to the gills with ten people, four of them children. I love my nieces and nephew, but I'm not used to constant crying and yelling. My grandmother will be there, too, and she's hard of hearing. The only way to talk to her is VERY LOUDLY. I won't be surprised this time around, when I'm ripped out of my sleep by my mother or someone bellowing " MOM, CAN I GET YOU SOME JUICE? NO, I SAID JUICE. I....NO, I SAID JUICE. WOULD YOU LIKE SOME JUICE? IS THAT A YES, MOM? WHAT KIND WOULD YOU LIKE? I SAID WHAT KIND..." And so it goes. Ah, but they're family and I love them. It won't be so bad.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
That union man got such a hold over me
The early part of today I had the sense, like I sometimes do, that my life is trending downward. I hate giving in to these thoughts, but fuck, I just want there to be some significance to waking up every day. Well, my blues didn't last all day and after work I took a run, which made me feel better. Also, I've been watching season 2 of Rome, probably my favorite show, which is reason enough to get up in the morning.
Now, I'm off to make a phone call and if I have time I'll return to Rome and lose myself in it.
Now, I'm off to make a phone call and if I have time I'll return to Rome and lose myself in it.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Honey, I'm all out and down
Friday night's show was a success. I wasn't sure who was going to come, but when the place began to fill up with friends from Mass and NH, I was overjoyed. I hadn't seen many of them for months and the fact that they came to support Sean and me meant a lot.
Sean went on first and played a great set, despite the occasional howling of a blender making smoothies that did its best to draw attention to itself. I've always been a big fan of his songs and sharing a bill with him was an honor. I look forward to September, when we'll be playing together again.
My set went well. I love playing out and when it's in front of friends, it's even better. I didn't screw up as much as I thought I was going to. I say this because I was playing a lot of new material, some of which I had only finished writing the lyrics to the night before. My guitar playing and vocals were in fine form and the only mishap was leaving my set list in the car. If future shows go half as well as this one, I'll consider myself lucky.
After my last song, the staff kicked us all out so they could close. A group of us went over to the Blue Shamrock for some drinks and after one, I went home to sleep because I had to get up at six for work on Saturday.
I'm eager to play out as much as I can. I love the idea of playing out with friends and I've been talking to Foley, the guys in NSI, Chrissy, and Leesa about booking some shows. And maybe, just maybe, I'll actually get paid for once. That would be something.
--
Friday was one of the most taxing days I've ever had at work and I found it bitterly ironic that it had to happen the day of my show. It was so bad that it was possible I was going to miss it, or at the very least, get there extremely late. Fortunately, I made it on time, but it was too close for comfort.
We had a big job in Weston that required me to be there to help my guys set up tents. A few of the guys arrived at the job first thing in the morning and I got there with Al around eleven. We had to put up a 20 x 3o and a 30 x 50 frame tent, in addition to a Moon Bounce and chairs and tables, for a back yard party that some filthy rich surgeon was having in his back yard.
It was tough work, made worse by the pouring rain and lack of help. Gio, the driver I've had multiple issues with, was the only one there who knew how to properly erect the tents, and seeing him in action gave me a little insight into what he goes through. The drivers have thankless and physically demanding jobs and Karen isn't very sympathetic to their hardships. Watching Gio, a tormented guy with a shitty home life, out in the rain with the rest of us, doing his best to make sure the tents went up, made me want to reevaluate my opinions of him.
Larry, another guy I've had issues with, came extremely close to being fired. I had told him and Al to unload the cube truck so we could send it back to the shop, and he didn't take too kindly to the instruction. I was sitting down with John, a guy who was having his first day (poor guy!), unraveling strings of globe lights and replacing their bulbs, when Larry came over to us and said "Y'know, this is bullshit having me and Al unload the truck while you're sitting on your ass. We need everyone helping." Larry doesn't like being told what to do, at least by me, and that is why I've had issues with him. I was in no mood for his antics, so I told him to get back to the truck and continue unloading.
I knew he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut and sure enough, when he came back down the hill near where John and I were sitting, he came at me again. "Not for nothing, but I don't like seeing you on your ass doing nothing while I'm busting my ass."
My plan was to sit with John for a bit to get a feel for him in addition to getting the globe lights ready, and then, if the guys were still unloading the truck, I'd help them out. I didn't tell this to Larry because, frankly, I don't need to explain to him my every action. My job is to manage my crew and his is to do what I tell him to do. Between him and Gio, I'd suffered enough insubordination over the last month to warrant firing them several times over. Larry had gotten on my last nerve. "I don't need to explain myself to you, Larry. Go do your job!"
He looked at me incredulously, as if I wasn't his boss, but one of the warehouse guys. "Do my job? Why don't you fucking help me do my job?"
I would have fired him on the spot, but unfortunately I needed his help. "Go unload the truck. Just fucking do it!"
He had had been walking away from me, but when he heard what I said he stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. I knew at that point that I crossed a line with him and now he was going to make this a physical affair. "Why you got to talk to me like that? Go fucking do it? No one talks to me like that!"
There I was, the day of my show, in the pouring rain at a job site I in most circumstances wouldn't have been at, about to get in a fight with one of my drivers. Larry curses more than anyone I know but when he hears me tell him to go "fucking" do something, he flips out. I may as well have told him I was going to have anal sex with his mother. As fed up as I was with him, I did not want to get in a fight with him. I tried to diffuse the situation without putting my tail between my legs.
"Larry, you've been coming at me and accusing me of being lazy and you're insulted? Listen, either unload the truck or don't. If I insulted you, I apologize, but I'm not going to explain my every action to you. So please, if you wouldn't mind, unload the truck."
He walked back up to the truck and muttered "Man, if this was the streets, you wouldn't be talking to me like this. I'd fuck you up!"
I let the comment pass and returned to my bulbs, pissed and at the same time feeling a little bad for John, who must have been wondering what he had got himself into. Gio came back later and we put up the 30 x 50, which took hours to do.
Larry never apologized to me but his subsequent actions indicated he wanted to make nice. The thing with him is he's a good and thoughtful kid for the most part, but he has difficulty keeping his mouth shut. Anyway, putting up the tents unified us all out of necessity. Karen kept calling wondering why it was taking so long, and I kept telling her we were going as fast as we could, that we wanted to get out of the rain as soon as possible.
Once the tent was up, Larry and Gio headed back to the shop while Al, John, and I remained to finish up. It was a little after three. Karen called me on my cell and I told her I needed to be out of work at five. She said it wouldn't be a problem, that it would only take us twenty more minutes. We still had to set up all the lights, tables, chairs, sidewalls, and the moon bounce. Even if we were hopped on pcp, we wouldn't have been able to finish the job in that time. I tried telling her that, but she wasn't having it.
While we worked, the caterers and wait-staff showed up. And so did Tuni, one of the most difficult clients I've had dealings with over the phone. She was the party planner for this job and seeing her order my guys around didn't make my already gloomy outlook any brighter. When I looked at my phone and saw that it was almost five thirty, I realized that I might not make it to my show in time. We still had some work to do and traffic was going to suck.
We made it back to Somerville around six o'clock. We had worked all day in the rain without taking lunch and I was fuming. I wanted to give Karen the ol' "I told you so", but I knew it wasn't her fault why we were late; the job was an aberration. I had to rush home, make a quick meal, take a shower, and haul my ass to Lowell as quickly as possible. Fortunately, I made it in time.
--
Yesterday was even worse. Because we'd spent so much manpower at the Weston job site the day before, we were backed up on deliveries. It was a hellish and confusing day. I won't go into it any further. I thought the slow season was upon us, but apparently it's not. Thank God, I have the next couple of days off.
Sean went on first and played a great set, despite the occasional howling of a blender making smoothies that did its best to draw attention to itself. I've always been a big fan of his songs and sharing a bill with him was an honor. I look forward to September, when we'll be playing together again.
My set went well. I love playing out and when it's in front of friends, it's even better. I didn't screw up as much as I thought I was going to. I say this because I was playing a lot of new material, some of which I had only finished writing the lyrics to the night before. My guitar playing and vocals were in fine form and the only mishap was leaving my set list in the car. If future shows go half as well as this one, I'll consider myself lucky.
After my last song, the staff kicked us all out so they could close. A group of us went over to the Blue Shamrock for some drinks and after one, I went home to sleep because I had to get up at six for work on Saturday.
I'm eager to play out as much as I can. I love the idea of playing out with friends and I've been talking to Foley, the guys in NSI, Chrissy, and Leesa about booking some shows. And maybe, just maybe, I'll actually get paid for once. That would be something.
--
Friday was one of the most taxing days I've ever had at work and I found it bitterly ironic that it had to happen the day of my show. It was so bad that it was possible I was going to miss it, or at the very least, get there extremely late. Fortunately, I made it on time, but it was too close for comfort.
We had a big job in Weston that required me to be there to help my guys set up tents. A few of the guys arrived at the job first thing in the morning and I got there with Al around eleven. We had to put up a 20 x 3o and a 30 x 50 frame tent, in addition to a Moon Bounce and chairs and tables, for a back yard party that some filthy rich surgeon was having in his back yard.
It was tough work, made worse by the pouring rain and lack of help. Gio, the driver I've had multiple issues with, was the only one there who knew how to properly erect the tents, and seeing him in action gave me a little insight into what he goes through. The drivers have thankless and physically demanding jobs and Karen isn't very sympathetic to their hardships. Watching Gio, a tormented guy with a shitty home life, out in the rain with the rest of us, doing his best to make sure the tents went up, made me want to reevaluate my opinions of him.
Larry, another guy I've had issues with, came extremely close to being fired. I had told him and Al to unload the cube truck so we could send it back to the shop, and he didn't take too kindly to the instruction. I was sitting down with John, a guy who was having his first day (poor guy!), unraveling strings of globe lights and replacing their bulbs, when Larry came over to us and said "Y'know, this is bullshit having me and Al unload the truck while you're sitting on your ass. We need everyone helping." Larry doesn't like being told what to do, at least by me, and that is why I've had issues with him. I was in no mood for his antics, so I told him to get back to the truck and continue unloading.
I knew he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut and sure enough, when he came back down the hill near where John and I were sitting, he came at me again. "Not for nothing, but I don't like seeing you on your ass doing nothing while I'm busting my ass."
My plan was to sit with John for a bit to get a feel for him in addition to getting the globe lights ready, and then, if the guys were still unloading the truck, I'd help them out. I didn't tell this to Larry because, frankly, I don't need to explain to him my every action. My job is to manage my crew and his is to do what I tell him to do. Between him and Gio, I'd suffered enough insubordination over the last month to warrant firing them several times over. Larry had gotten on my last nerve. "I don't need to explain myself to you, Larry. Go do your job!"
He looked at me incredulously, as if I wasn't his boss, but one of the warehouse guys. "Do my job? Why don't you fucking help me do my job?"
I would have fired him on the spot, but unfortunately I needed his help. "Go unload the truck. Just fucking do it!"
He had had been walking away from me, but when he heard what I said he stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. I knew at that point that I crossed a line with him and now he was going to make this a physical affair. "Why you got to talk to me like that? Go fucking do it? No one talks to me like that!"
There I was, the day of my show, in the pouring rain at a job site I in most circumstances wouldn't have been at, about to get in a fight with one of my drivers. Larry curses more than anyone I know but when he hears me tell him to go "fucking" do something, he flips out. I may as well have told him I was going to have anal sex with his mother. As fed up as I was with him, I did not want to get in a fight with him. I tried to diffuse the situation without putting my tail between my legs.
"Larry, you've been coming at me and accusing me of being lazy and you're insulted? Listen, either unload the truck or don't. If I insulted you, I apologize, but I'm not going to explain my every action to you. So please, if you wouldn't mind, unload the truck."
He walked back up to the truck and muttered "Man, if this was the streets, you wouldn't be talking to me like this. I'd fuck you up!"
I let the comment pass and returned to my bulbs, pissed and at the same time feeling a little bad for John, who must have been wondering what he had got himself into. Gio came back later and we put up the 30 x 50, which took hours to do.
Larry never apologized to me but his subsequent actions indicated he wanted to make nice. The thing with him is he's a good and thoughtful kid for the most part, but he has difficulty keeping his mouth shut. Anyway, putting up the tents unified us all out of necessity. Karen kept calling wondering why it was taking so long, and I kept telling her we were going as fast as we could, that we wanted to get out of the rain as soon as possible.
Once the tent was up, Larry and Gio headed back to the shop while Al, John, and I remained to finish up. It was a little after three. Karen called me on my cell and I told her I needed to be out of work at five. She said it wouldn't be a problem, that it would only take us twenty more minutes. We still had to set up all the lights, tables, chairs, sidewalls, and the moon bounce. Even if we were hopped on pcp, we wouldn't have been able to finish the job in that time. I tried telling her that, but she wasn't having it.
While we worked, the caterers and wait-staff showed up. And so did Tuni, one of the most difficult clients I've had dealings with over the phone. She was the party planner for this job and seeing her order my guys around didn't make my already gloomy outlook any brighter. When I looked at my phone and saw that it was almost five thirty, I realized that I might not make it to my show in time. We still had some work to do and traffic was going to suck.
We made it back to Somerville around six o'clock. We had worked all day in the rain without taking lunch and I was fuming. I wanted to give Karen the ol' "I told you so", but I knew it wasn't her fault why we were late; the job was an aberration. I had to rush home, make a quick meal, take a shower, and haul my ass to Lowell as quickly as possible. Fortunately, I made it in time.
--
Yesterday was even worse. Because we'd spent so much manpower at the Weston job site the day before, we were backed up on deliveries. It was a hellish and confusing day. I won't go into it any further. I thought the slow season was upon us, but apparently it's not. Thank God, I have the next couple of days off.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
When she cried at night, no one cared
I arrived at work today with the front of my car emitting a dragon puff of smoke out from under the hood. It had done something like that not so long ago, but I attributed it to the exhaust from the car behind me. So I popped the hood and Al, a former mechanic, took a look around. He discovered that I was out of antifreeze, oil, and had about two drops left of brake fluid. I was surprised at the state of affairs; I'm usually pretty good about taking care of my car, but this was gross neglect. I guess my mind's been elsewhere.
I didn't hesitate and took my car to Jiffy Lube for some auto spa treatment. Just in time. Thank god my engine didn't blow.
I got my guitar back today and it plays better than it did when I got it years ago. I'll enjoy playing it at Friday's show. Speaking of which, I should probably finish some lyrics so I'll have something to emit from my word hole when the time comes. I suppose I could just play some atmospheric instrumentals. Maybe that would be better for all concerned.
I didn't hesitate and took my car to Jiffy Lube for some auto spa treatment. Just in time. Thank god my engine didn't blow.
I got my guitar back today and it plays better than it did when I got it years ago. I'll enjoy playing it at Friday's show. Speaking of which, I should probably finish some lyrics so I'll have something to emit from my word hole when the time comes. I suppose I could just play some atmospheric instrumentals. Maybe that would be better for all concerned.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Hey, baby
I've made some headway in my war with the fruit flies that have inhabited my dwelling. I read online that by putting a peeled banana in a bowl, covering it with plastic wrap and then poking holes in said plastic wrap, you'll have an effective fruit fly trap. Before I went for a run yesterday, I constructed the trap; when I returned a while later, the bowl was teeming with fruit flies. That's what you get, you god damned sons of bitches!
--
I'm still waiting to hear back from the guy who's fixing my guitar. I had a dream last night that I went to his shop to check it's status, and he admitted that he completely forgot that he was supposed to do work on it. I woke up balling. Not balling, actually--I was being silly--more like soft weeping.
--
I'm going to hang out with Brianna tonight. She came over from California to attend our friend Mary's wedding this weekend and it struck me when I saw her the other day just how long it had been since we were face to face. It seems the older I get, the more common it is for long periods of time to pass between visits with friends, close or otherwise. And the weird thing is, it won't feel like a lot of time has passed. It's a development I'm coming to terms with.
--
There's a song I keep hearing from the warehouse radio at work and it's one of the most uninspired and annoying pieces of work I've ever heard. It consists of some nasally guy rapping about being at the club (wow, what a stroke of genius to refer to the "club" in a song that will most likely be played at a club. No one does that). And after he's said his peace about the club, he sees a woman he's attracted to and decides to pursue her affections. He approaches her and says "Hey, baby". About seventy fucking times he says this throughout the course of the track. "Hey bay-bay. Hey, bay-bay. Hey, bay-bay". Ad nauseum.
Whether it's because I'm dull-witted, which is very possible, or because my brain, as a means of protecting itself, blocked it out, for the longest time I couldn't remember the hook of the song. And the only reason I wanted to remember it was so I could share it with Amanda to see if she was familiar with it. But every time I'd try to tell her about it, I'd come up empty. The best I could do was say in frustration, " Okay, the guy talks about being at the club and then he say something over and over and over again; something like,' Da-da-dahh. Da-da-dahh. Da-da-dahh'."
Yesterday morning, Amanda called me on her way to work and I could hear the song in the background coming from the car radio. "The second I heard it, I knew this was the song you were telling me about!", she exclaimed. We laughed about the overall shittiness of the song and I told her how much of a relief it was that I finally had someone to share this horror with me. As far as she was concerned, I had just infected her with Hepatitis. Sorry, Amanda.
--
I'm still waiting to hear back from the guy who's fixing my guitar. I had a dream last night that I went to his shop to check it's status, and he admitted that he completely forgot that he was supposed to do work on it. I woke up balling. Not balling, actually--I was being silly--more like soft weeping.
--
I'm going to hang out with Brianna tonight. She came over from California to attend our friend Mary's wedding this weekend and it struck me when I saw her the other day just how long it had been since we were face to face. It seems the older I get, the more common it is for long periods of time to pass between visits with friends, close or otherwise. And the weird thing is, it won't feel like a lot of time has passed. It's a development I'm coming to terms with.
--
There's a song I keep hearing from the warehouse radio at work and it's one of the most uninspired and annoying pieces of work I've ever heard. It consists of some nasally guy rapping about being at the club (wow, what a stroke of genius to refer to the "club" in a song that will most likely be played at a club. No one does that). And after he's said his peace about the club, he sees a woman he's attracted to and decides to pursue her affections. He approaches her and says "Hey, baby". About seventy fucking times he says this throughout the course of the track. "Hey bay-bay. Hey, bay-bay. Hey, bay-bay". Ad nauseum.
Whether it's because I'm dull-witted, which is very possible, or because my brain, as a means of protecting itself, blocked it out, for the longest time I couldn't remember the hook of the song. And the only reason I wanted to remember it was so I could share it with Amanda to see if she was familiar with it. But every time I'd try to tell her about it, I'd come up empty. The best I could do was say in frustration, " Okay, the guy talks about being at the club and then he say something over and over and over again; something like,' Da-da-dahh. Da-da-dahh. Da-da-dahh'."
Yesterday morning, Amanda called me on her way to work and I could hear the song in the background coming from the car radio. "The second I heard it, I knew this was the song you were telling me about!", she exclaimed. We laughed about the overall shittiness of the song and I told her how much of a relief it was that I finally had someone to share this horror with me. As far as she was concerned, I had just infected her with Hepatitis. Sorry, Amanda.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Fears be gone, it won't be long. There's a light in the skies
I've been trying to kill this damn fruit fly for the last twenty minutes and the fucker escapes my clutches every time. And the thing won't leave me alone, either. I'd be more inclined to let him live if he respected my personal space and hung out somewhere else in my room. What if the bugger is hanging around me not to harass, but because he likes me, senses my goodness, and wants to be my friend? I'd feel pretty lousy about wiping his flattened, messy body off my palm, that's for sure. Better for both of us if I leave matters be.
Went over to Tufts and ran a mile on their track after work tonight and my legs are begging me to never make them move ever again. It wasn't just the mile I ran; it was the fairly lengthy walk to and fro the track that contributed to the state that I'm in. I think I know who's going to bed early tonight.
I put the TV on for the first time in months to watch the Kevin Garnett press conference, and there with Paul Pierce, Ray Allen was the key to the gates of Heaven for the Celtics and their fans. I actually became giddy watching; it blew my mind that KG was now a Celtic. His addition to the team makes it likely that they'll be a force in the league for the next few years. A championship, something that wasn't even close to being possible last year, is now within reach. Luke Warm and I argued over the merits of the trade yesterday---he was against it---and I'm hoping he's come to his senses and is as giddy as I am about what the Celtics have pulled off.
Been listening to a lot of Big Star lately. I've always liked the band, but I never really dove into their music the way I have been lately. What great musicians! What great songwriting! Viva Big Star!
And viva all of you.
Awwww.
Went over to Tufts and ran a mile on their track after work tonight and my legs are begging me to never make them move ever again. It wasn't just the mile I ran; it was the fairly lengthy walk to and fro the track that contributed to the state that I'm in. I think I know who's going to bed early tonight.
I put the TV on for the first time in months to watch the Kevin Garnett press conference, and there with Paul Pierce, Ray Allen was the key to the gates of Heaven for the Celtics and their fans. I actually became giddy watching; it blew my mind that KG was now a Celtic. His addition to the team makes it likely that they'll be a force in the league for the next few years. A championship, something that wasn't even close to being possible last year, is now within reach. Luke Warm and I argued over the merits of the trade yesterday---he was against it---and I'm hoping he's come to his senses and is as giddy as I am about what the Celtics have pulled off.
Been listening to a lot of Big Star lately. I've always liked the band, but I never really dove into their music the way I have been lately. What great musicians! What great songwriting! Viva Big Star!
And viva all of you.
Awwww.
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