Here Is Something You Can't Understand...
How bad was it today? How bad did it go today?
If it went worse, I'd have to be fined $160 and cockblocked from meeting Eliza Dushku.
THAT. BAD.
So horrible before I could reach for "Serve The Servants", Renegades, and the Marshall Mathers, the first lyrics in my head were Linkin Park and Limp Bizkit.
THAT.
BAD.
Now, an hour by hour breakdown of this fucking shit.
Oh, I should add in the kicker: running to catch the bus after getting up at 4:45 (sadly, that's something like sleeping in), I inadvertently swallowed some mouthwash, giving me a headache persisting to this update. AND I'm getting a cold.
7:00 am: 2 sanctimonious assholes. (Sanctimonious assholes, for the sake of this particular convo, will be like the people I described with such affection yesterday.)
8:00 am: 1 sanctimonious, balanced by four hot CILF's. (Replace Churchies where Mothers goes. One looked like Jessica Alba and was wearing this white dress--really something. Yet too angry to obsess. THAT. Angry.)
9:00-10:33: Waking sleep.
10:34 am: Wonder if that's all there is.
10:35-11:45: Escort crying, mildly hysterical woman to elevator. Find out mildly hysterical woman is fucking crazy, and is suffering a repeat of a panic attack from last night. Will freak out if the cops are called and wants to get to County Medical Health, which may or may not be open. Spend hour making sure she doesn't hurt herself or others before she's released. And, of course, in the next five minutes after...sanctimonious asshole. Actually, a family of four who jumped the stiles to a closed escaltor instead of walking 20 feet to the working ones. Way to be Christian. And not the good Intercontinental Champion one either.
Noon: Lunch! Hooray lunch! New schedule! FUCK YOU new schedule!
Saturday, 6th--8 am, 1 pm
Sunday, 7th, Opening Day--8 am, 5 pm
Monday, 8th, 6 am, 2:30 pm
Tuesday, 9th, Monday again
This means I'm working 70% of the next 10 days. That number should be worse, because one of those days is Labor Day and the other is the day after; essentially, I have Thursday off for the next week and a half, gettting up early every single fucking day, and of course, missing football. And five straight days, too. What was my point? Oh, yes: FUCK YOU new schedule!
1 pm: Now shit really hits the fan. Seriously. The first session/sermon/whatever started at 8, is supposed to end back at noon. Only he's busy healing the sick and blinding the guilty or something because before 1:05 even hits, about 3,000 Bible thumpers stream out of the ballroom in front of me and hit the escalators. Mild traffic problems for a while due to the density, but it flows pretty well. Wish I could've made it easier, but people are busy talking to each other and being lazy and taking the closest and so on. And I'm thinking "well, they've screwed me out of my second break for the second straight day", and I go to see if I can catch the scheduler before she ducks out to give her a piece of my mind and to see what's going on session-wise. Gone. There was supposed to be a new one at 1:30 but it's practically that now, and if I can find out if it's been moved to 2:30, 3, 4, or cancelled, while I don't care will help people out, which is what I do. I go in to use the phone and ask someone, but before I do Alicia's calling me. This makes no sense, Jeff is breaking me. She says I'm where you're supposed to be, where are you? I say I'm in the ballroom and will be out in five seconds. Get there. She gives me a little speech about how I'm supposed to be superglued to the spot and I pretty much blow it off because if I can go 40 more minutes without slapping someone I'll be free for a few hours. [Addendum: didn't think I was getting a second break due to the lateness of the shift, and having a 15-minute break with 40 minutes left in your shift is so far beyond ridiculous....] Get back to base. One of the supervisors wants to see me, and I haven't seen him probably all month.
Why wasn't I where I was supposed to be?
Alicia, who is 60 and the World's Greatest Drama Queen, who uses most of her time to socialize, who flipped out at the National University tickettaking and left me running it at all of ELEVEN DAYS EMPLOYMENT, has fucking narced me for being five seconds away and doing my job.
There are no words. Plenty of expletives. Visions of me jamming her arthritic knee into her skull so hard the last thing she tastes is her own prune urine and her last action is her shitting herself before a grand mal seizure followed by me kicking the corppse and yelling "WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU?" for a half hour dance through my head as I explain the following to my boss:
--the lateness of the first sermon affecting the possibility of the second
--the wedding BEHIND the holy shit that's going on in a few hours that's being setup, with wedding people and setup guys running around
--the fact that 10 different parishoners went out on the Terrace to see Coronado and managed to lock themselves out yesterday, and I know because I had to let 8 of them back in
So I get some sturm und drang about how it's good I'm proactive (BUZZWORD!) and looking ahead but me being "out of position" was going to get me a verbal warning. To quote Sonny Liston, I never expected to be treated like no hero but I damn sure didn't expect to get treated like no damn sewer rat. Did I mention this is happening for half of my pissant way-too-late break? Yes?
I get back and somehow don't throttle her ass, and get by the last 20 minutes. So now, I'm going to finish up looking through Delphi, then since the sleep-in-until-11-go-to-LA family is gone I'm going to the store and buy a Heineken and watch 8 Mile. And if that doesn't do it, I'm moving onto Animal House.
Fuck.
8/29/03
I'm A Very Cheap Whore, I Come To Find Out
Ugh. Today & tomorrow I'm working some Jesus freak thing, and Sunday's ticketaking for the Quilt Show.
You can reread that if you'd like.
Today S U C K E D. People who answer "Good morning" with "Praise him" need to beaten in the face. And answering it with "Bless you" when I haven't sneezed in 4 days makes me want to drive my radio through your skull. OH and I got this one bitch who was complaining of jet lag with her heart problem that she couldn't walk all the way next door to the Marriott. The amount of time she spent complaining she could've gone there and back AND there AND BACK. I was moments away from doing a simaltaneous Lewis Black & Ike Turner on her, I can tell you. "*SMACK* *SMACK* Shut UP, bitch! You're tired? There's a corner with some shade, lie down until you get the strength to walk all the way NEXT FUCKING DOOR! Put your head on the floor--put your HEAD ON THE FLOOR!"
And of course second wave was late so I barely clocked out on time. If I get stinking drunk Monday (odds are good) today will be the reason why. And I get to do it again tomorrow.
Why didn't I go on unemployment?
Ugh. Today & tomorrow I'm working some Jesus freak thing, and Sunday's ticketaking for the Quilt Show.
You can reread that if you'd like.
Today S U C K E D. People who answer "Good morning" with "Praise him" need to beaten in the face. And answering it with "Bless you" when I haven't sneezed in 4 days makes me want to drive my radio through your skull. OH and I got this one bitch who was complaining of jet lag with her heart problem that she couldn't walk all the way next door to the Marriott. The amount of time she spent complaining she could've gone there and back AND there AND BACK. I was moments away from doing a simaltaneous Lewis Black & Ike Turner on her, I can tell you. "*SMACK* *SMACK* Shut UP, bitch! You're tired? There's a corner with some shade, lie down until you get the strength to walk all the way NEXT FUCKING DOOR! Put your head on the floor--put your HEAD ON THE FLOOR!"
And of course second wave was late so I barely clocked out on time. If I get stinking drunk Monday (odds are good) today will be the reason why. And I get to do it again tomorrow.
Why didn't I go on unemployment?
8/20/03
It would be nice to think that since I was 14, times have changed. Relationships have become more sophisticated. Females less cruel. Skins thicker. Instincts more developed. But there seems to be an element of that afternoon in everything that's happened to me since. All my romantic stories are a scrambled version of that first one. (High Infidelity, Coldplay, and Things Vaguely Resembling Chemistry)
Longtime readers of ASCTR (all 21 of you?) remember back on the Fourth I had a story to tell, but due to a hard day's work I was in no mood to tell it. Another hard day's work today, but thanks to the new Coldplay song I'm downwiring to my brain (so I can push out something like, say, people's names) and where I worked today, I want to tell it.
It'll be better for me if I do; this is like an electronic couch and this my therapy if not my catharsis. And yeah, I'm waiving the Dragnet waiver because this is autobiographical after all; I expect you to roll with me now you should have some idea of where I've been. Also, I've come to the conclusion that the three biggest heartbreaks of my life don't really have a 1-2-3 as much as a 1a-1b-1c. They all hurt in different ways.
This is one of those stories. Let me fire up the Coldplay.
A warning sign
I missed the good part, and I realized...
Also, in addition, I've shoved us in the Wayback Machine and propelled us backwards through history to late March of 2001. Hope you didn't have anything key going on in the present.
Me? I was slowly, s l o w l y flunking out of America's #1 party school. However, I didn't know that, so I went on Spring Break. With me went Dustin and Amanda who you all know and love from the wedding story. Dustin brought his (now ex-)girl Jessica, and more pivotal to the story Amanda brought her friends from Berkeley: Hannah, Bill, and Liz.
Bill? Great guy, snores of a new guy in hell being prodded by a cactus. Hannah, pretty girl, funny, and yet right between my brunettes rule the school phases.
Well, you don't have to be Lanny "The Genius" Poffo to know in which way the wind is a-blowin. Elizabeth McMunn. In the olden times they would've called her pixieish, and she had the smile to go with it. And yet beneath the innocence of the surface, you could almost see gears working in concert to produce evil--not just produce it, but how to use that smile to get away with it. Yeah, I think it's safe to say I liked ol' Liz right from the start.
But before that went any further, it was still Spring Break. And so I drank my body weight in Corona, matched it with lobster, put on the Rey Rey mask now in the home of Roberto Harris and the pimp hat lost on the streets of Berkeley and got down OLD SCHOOL. And yet, despite (because of?) all that, I was able to make myself happy very simply: I set up and played an intricate April Fool's Day joke on Hannah in which I told her on the last day of the vacation that I had fallen for her despite the fact she had a boyfriend. We all laughed. It was funny, and I had no problem dropping the curtain to reveal the little things I'd done along the way.
Our laughter filled the air. Hannah went goodbye, and Liz began asking me more questions about how I'd done it: how'd you act when X? Was there body language? So, to test her, I started a fake argument (which she helped out in, given time). She knew the darkest secrets in my own evil Inside the Actor's Studio.
*sigh* Yeah, I think it's safe to say I liked ol' Liz right from the start. And yet.
Someone...some force, somewhere...I'll call it JesusWhitey since that's who I blame when things hit the crapper...was very much NOT laughing.
At least not yet.
I started looking and the bubble burst
I started looking for excuses...
Panel recognizes the freak in the third row waving BOTH his hands what is WRONG with you?
"But, Butch, you talked about Hannah a lot there, I guess because her having the boyfriend set up the joke, but what about Liz?"
All right, siddown. She was single. I wasn't sure if I was into her into her or not; a brief quasi-stalking of a track star I was covering for the paper muddied up that water. But, in an attempt to find out I got her AIMSN. She'd be up late in Berkeley and I'd be up late because when you're flunking out you sort of let other things like punctuality hit the floor too, and we'd have some late-night chats. The track star thing fizzled out (boyfriend--how DO they do it, I ask?) and I was especially sure after some more talking there was a possibility of a future there. It'd been roughly a year since my last heart smashing (though in lieu with the two that were to come THAT one looks more and more every day like a mere love tap to the ribs with a Buick), and I was a bit hesitant in my steps. Not that my steps are that confident around girls to begin with, but especially then. IRREGARDLESS!
Come on in
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in
I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign
So after a while, I found out Liz would be coming to San Diego for the summer. Beautiful. I didn't want to ask her out over AIM, and I didn't want to phone--how would I date? So, she'd be here in June...April now...and like the five richest kings of Europe I'd bide my time and polish up the asking. You know, make sure it was infallible and cute and shit.
A beef with hot girls, other than they won't have anything to do with me on account of the face: inevitably they make me forget that my asshole is merely a waiting receptacle for the universe's 56-foot dick.
Because what happened between April and June was April 20th. 4.20.
Namely, she found a boyfriend. And, oh, because this is my life and JW will screw with it as he pleases, let's make him a likeable guy I made friends with in the winter break of 2000. It'll be grrrrrrreat!
I still have nothing bad to say about Nate. He's got a sharp sense of humor, enjoys a lot of the same things I do. And he also made me insane with anger when Amanda and Liz got back to town a few short days after Round 1 at San Diego State had been deemed a TKO by The Man.
When the truth is, I miss you
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so
A warning sign
It came back to haunt me, and I realised
That you were an island and I passed you by
And you were an island to discover
Ah, I grew up in the ghetto, so I think that's to blame. Because if I'd known anything about real estate, I would've learned rule #1: Location. LOCATION. LOCATION. It was all proximity, and me in my little bubble were well and truly screwed.
Despite that, my friends are my friends, and so without Nate around for the summer we ended up hanging out a lot. I had summer school but head going more over heels in addition to the feeling I had just flunked out of a party state school and was going to have to deal with my angry mother I pretty much blew it off at every opportunity. And a couple of you taking your finals at Bovine University might be surprised to learn that time that I should've been spending in class or running to somewhere safe like Sarajevo was being spent with Amanda, and by proxy at that point, Liz. Movies practically every day, phone and/or AIM when that wasn't happening, weekend parties, bonfires, and so on and so on and la da di dah, we get to the Fourth.
Come on in
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in
I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign
And suddenly, I saw myself for what I truly was: an evil, despotic bastard.
For this was the first time I found myself enthralled with a friend's significant other.
And the answer that came screaming back at me from every corner of my mind was SCREW. HIM. It's horrible for me to admit, but the truth usually is, and Nate, sorry if you're reading this after the fact. That's just where my head was.
And on the fourth of July, the lot of us who went to Spring Break together ended up going to Coronado together, sans Bill. Coronado's an extremely ritzy part of town where we have our annual bonfires. You may have also heard of the Hotel del Coronado being stayed at by this president or that one, and that should give you an idea of what I mean when I say ritzy. I was singing "Yellow" (ah HA) which was a favorite of both of us by then as we made our way to the end of the island to watch the fireworks in the harbor. Now, I work on the other side of it. But that night, you got to see the Coronado Bridge and the downtown skyline illuminated with fireworks for about 30 minutes straight, and holy god was it awesome. We all sat there in a modified huddle at the water's edge looking up. I was sitting right next to her. Some part of me somewhere is still about one word away from leaning over and kissing her, and wouldn't that be a frightening alternate universe for some of us?
When the truth is, I miss you
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so...
She went back to Berkeley. The last day of August, I followed. Just packed up everything I wanted, tossed the rest, took all the money I'd saved, and got up there. I had to say something. I didn't know WHAT it was going to be per se, but I needed away to follow this thing through to completion. If there was a chance of happiness there, no matter how unseemly it felt to me at times, it was worth pursuing.
And so while I ruminated on that, I stayed with my friend we'll call Hurricane in San Jose. I'd figured out what I was going to say, and to my consternation found a lot of it echoing, if not verbatim, some of the things I'd said to Hannah in my April Fools speech. But I watched Clerks, and I went to bed, and in the morning I'd head back up and throw my heart out there.
As I went to sleep, it was 5 a.m. Eastern Standard Time.
The day was September 11th, 2001.
I still don't remember that much about most of the day other than withdrawing my remaining funds from the bank in case it was going to have to be closed long-term and just watching the news. Didn't make sense. You go to sleep, there are Twin Towers, you wake up, there are corpses. Just didn't connect.
Liz didn't see the Towers go down until the 11:00 news that night. I'd sort of gotten burned out on the horrific footage and was sitting in the next room talking to friends trying to figure it out; the same friends who were trying to desperately fend off my mother in her search for me. I heard it again, and I heard a horrified gasp as she saw it, and then she began crying. Right into Nate's arms.
And if you slow down the tape, you can pin-point the exact second where my heart breaks in half. Again. 4 years since the last one, but if you think that makes it hurt less you can get the graduate Bovine U. degree. I felt this whirl of conflicting emotions I was not prepared to deal with. I felt like an asshole for even coming. I felt like joining the Reserves and laying down a symphony with my fists on Osama's face myself because pissing me off was all right but driving her to tears wasn't. I felt like even more like an asshole for trying to take her from a friend when all seemed well between them. And I felt lost. It'd SEEMED like I was doing the right thing 24 hours ago. The terrorists were thinking the same on a far more fiendish colossal level. I sat in the room next door, slowly drinking port wine, and coming apart.
Let this be a lesson to you who've been lulled in my culling song by the Simpsons quotes and witty banter. I, too, am a fuckhead.
That was pretty much the end of that. Once things settled down, I came back to this, and Liz & Nate continued to go down the road of bliss together, and I still flick off 9/11 footage in any shape, way, or form whenever it comes on.
Not proud of these things, but these things are the bricks in my wall.
The more astute Coldplay completists of you will notice I left the final six lines off the song. Make of that what you will. But there was something about me being half-asleep yesterday and hearing this song for the first time as I nodded off, coupled with working a dock supervision that let me look at Coronado all day...this story was coming out sooner or later. It's not even that I want to get together with Liz anymore, as her and Nate are due to get married any second now, metaphorically. This is just what I felt when I felt it.
And like most things I feel, now that I'm done with it, I'm done.
Longtime readers of ASCTR (all 21 of you?) remember back on the Fourth I had a story to tell, but due to a hard day's work I was in no mood to tell it. Another hard day's work today, but thanks to the new Coldplay song I'm downwiring to my brain (so I can push out something like, say, people's names) and where I worked today, I want to tell it.
It'll be better for me if I do; this is like an electronic couch and this my therapy if not my catharsis. And yeah, I'm waiving the Dragnet waiver because this is autobiographical after all; I expect you to roll with me now you should have some idea of where I've been. Also, I've come to the conclusion that the three biggest heartbreaks of my life don't really have a 1-2-3 as much as a 1a-1b-1c. They all hurt in different ways.
This is one of those stories. Let me fire up the Coldplay.
A warning sign
I missed the good part, and I realized...
Also, in addition, I've shoved us in the Wayback Machine and propelled us backwards through history to late March of 2001. Hope you didn't have anything key going on in the present.
Me? I was slowly, s l o w l y flunking out of America's #1 party school. However, I didn't know that, so I went on Spring Break. With me went Dustin and Amanda who you all know and love from the wedding story. Dustin brought his (now ex-)girl Jessica, and more pivotal to the story Amanda brought her friends from Berkeley: Hannah, Bill, and Liz.
Bill? Great guy, snores of a new guy in hell being prodded by a cactus. Hannah, pretty girl, funny, and yet right between my brunettes rule the school phases.
Well, you don't have to be Lanny "The Genius" Poffo to know in which way the wind is a-blowin. Elizabeth McMunn. In the olden times they would've called her pixieish, and she had the smile to go with it. And yet beneath the innocence of the surface, you could almost see gears working in concert to produce evil--not just produce it, but how to use that smile to get away with it. Yeah, I think it's safe to say I liked ol' Liz right from the start.
But before that went any further, it was still Spring Break. And so I drank my body weight in Corona, matched it with lobster, put on the Rey Rey mask now in the home of Roberto Harris and the pimp hat lost on the streets of Berkeley and got down OLD SCHOOL. And yet, despite (because of?) all that, I was able to make myself happy very simply: I set up and played an intricate April Fool's Day joke on Hannah in which I told her on the last day of the vacation that I had fallen for her despite the fact she had a boyfriend. We all laughed. It was funny, and I had no problem dropping the curtain to reveal the little things I'd done along the way.
Our laughter filled the air. Hannah went goodbye, and Liz began asking me more questions about how I'd done it: how'd you act when X? Was there body language? So, to test her, I started a fake argument (which she helped out in, given time). She knew the darkest secrets in my own evil Inside the Actor's Studio.
*sigh* Yeah, I think it's safe to say I liked ol' Liz right from the start. And yet.
Someone...some force, somewhere...I'll call it JesusWhitey since that's who I blame when things hit the crapper...was very much NOT laughing.
At least not yet.
I started looking and the bubble burst
I started looking for excuses...
Panel recognizes the freak in the third row waving BOTH his hands what is WRONG with you?
"But, Butch, you talked about Hannah a lot there, I guess because her having the boyfriend set up the joke, but what about Liz?"
All right, siddown. She was single. I wasn't sure if I was into her into her or not; a brief quasi-stalking of a track star I was covering for the paper muddied up that water. But, in an attempt to find out I got her AIMSN. She'd be up late in Berkeley and I'd be up late because when you're flunking out you sort of let other things like punctuality hit the floor too, and we'd have some late-night chats. The track star thing fizzled out (boyfriend--how DO they do it, I ask?) and I was especially sure after some more talking there was a possibility of a future there. It'd been roughly a year since my last heart smashing (though in lieu with the two that were to come THAT one looks more and more every day like a mere love tap to the ribs with a Buick), and I was a bit hesitant in my steps. Not that my steps are that confident around girls to begin with, but especially then. IRREGARDLESS!
Come on in
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in
I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign
So after a while, I found out Liz would be coming to San Diego for the summer. Beautiful. I didn't want to ask her out over AIM, and I didn't want to phone--how would I date? So, she'd be here in June...April now...and like the five richest kings of Europe I'd bide my time and polish up the asking. You know, make sure it was infallible and cute and shit.
A beef with hot girls, other than they won't have anything to do with me on account of the face: inevitably they make me forget that my asshole is merely a waiting receptacle for the universe's 56-foot dick.
Because what happened between April and June was April 20th. 4.20.
Namely, she found a boyfriend. And, oh, because this is my life and JW will screw with it as he pleases, let's make him a likeable guy I made friends with in the winter break of 2000. It'll be grrrrrrreat!
I still have nothing bad to say about Nate. He's got a sharp sense of humor, enjoys a lot of the same things I do. And he also made me insane with anger when Amanda and Liz got back to town a few short days after Round 1 at San Diego State had been deemed a TKO by The Man.
When the truth is, I miss you
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so
A warning sign
It came back to haunt me, and I realised
That you were an island and I passed you by
And you were an island to discover
Ah, I grew up in the ghetto, so I think that's to blame. Because if I'd known anything about real estate, I would've learned rule #1: Location. LOCATION. LOCATION. It was all proximity, and me in my little bubble were well and truly screwed.
Despite that, my friends are my friends, and so without Nate around for the summer we ended up hanging out a lot. I had summer school but head going more over heels in addition to the feeling I had just flunked out of a party state school and was going to have to deal with my angry mother I pretty much blew it off at every opportunity. And a couple of you taking your finals at Bovine University might be surprised to learn that time that I should've been spending in class or running to somewhere safe like Sarajevo was being spent with Amanda, and by proxy at that point, Liz. Movies practically every day, phone and/or AIM when that wasn't happening, weekend parties, bonfires, and so on and so on and la da di dah, we get to the Fourth.
Come on in
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in
I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign
And suddenly, I saw myself for what I truly was: an evil, despotic bastard.
For this was the first time I found myself enthralled with a friend's significant other.
And the answer that came screaming back at me from every corner of my mind was SCREW. HIM. It's horrible for me to admit, but the truth usually is, and Nate, sorry if you're reading this after the fact. That's just where my head was.
And on the fourth of July, the lot of us who went to Spring Break together ended up going to Coronado together, sans Bill. Coronado's an extremely ritzy part of town where we have our annual bonfires. You may have also heard of the Hotel del Coronado being stayed at by this president or that one, and that should give you an idea of what I mean when I say ritzy. I was singing "Yellow" (ah HA) which was a favorite of both of us by then as we made our way to the end of the island to watch the fireworks in the harbor. Now, I work on the other side of it. But that night, you got to see the Coronado Bridge and the downtown skyline illuminated with fireworks for about 30 minutes straight, and holy god was it awesome. We all sat there in a modified huddle at the water's edge looking up. I was sitting right next to her. Some part of me somewhere is still about one word away from leaning over and kissing her, and wouldn't that be a frightening alternate universe for some of us?
When the truth is, I miss you
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so...
She went back to Berkeley. The last day of August, I followed. Just packed up everything I wanted, tossed the rest, took all the money I'd saved, and got up there. I had to say something. I didn't know WHAT it was going to be per se, but I needed away to follow this thing through to completion. If there was a chance of happiness there, no matter how unseemly it felt to me at times, it was worth pursuing.
And so while I ruminated on that, I stayed with my friend we'll call Hurricane in San Jose. I'd figured out what I was going to say, and to my consternation found a lot of it echoing, if not verbatim, some of the things I'd said to Hannah in my April Fools speech. But I watched Clerks, and I went to bed, and in the morning I'd head back up and throw my heart out there.
As I went to sleep, it was 5 a.m. Eastern Standard Time.
The day was September 11th, 2001.
I still don't remember that much about most of the day other than withdrawing my remaining funds from the bank in case it was going to have to be closed long-term and just watching the news. Didn't make sense. You go to sleep, there are Twin Towers, you wake up, there are corpses. Just didn't connect.
Liz didn't see the Towers go down until the 11:00 news that night. I'd sort of gotten burned out on the horrific footage and was sitting in the next room talking to friends trying to figure it out; the same friends who were trying to desperately fend off my mother in her search for me. I heard it again, and I heard a horrified gasp as she saw it, and then she began crying. Right into Nate's arms.
And if you slow down the tape, you can pin-point the exact second where my heart breaks in half. Again. 4 years since the last one, but if you think that makes it hurt less you can get the graduate Bovine U. degree. I felt this whirl of conflicting emotions I was not prepared to deal with. I felt like an asshole for even coming. I felt like joining the Reserves and laying down a symphony with my fists on Osama's face myself because pissing me off was all right but driving her to tears wasn't. I felt like even more like an asshole for trying to take her from a friend when all seemed well between them. And I felt lost. It'd SEEMED like I was doing the right thing 24 hours ago. The terrorists were thinking the same on a far more fiendish colossal level. I sat in the room next door, slowly drinking port wine, and coming apart.
Let this be a lesson to you who've been lulled in my culling song by the Simpsons quotes and witty banter. I, too, am a fuckhead.
That was pretty much the end of that. Once things settled down, I came back to this, and Liz & Nate continued to go down the road of bliss together, and I still flick off 9/11 footage in any shape, way, or form whenever it comes on.
Not proud of these things, but these things are the bricks in my wall.
The more astute Coldplay completists of you will notice I left the final six lines off the song. Make of that what you will. But there was something about me being half-asleep yesterday and hearing this song for the first time as I nodded off, coupled with working a dock supervision that let me look at Coronado all day...this story was coming out sooner or later. It's not even that I want to get together with Liz anymore, as her and Nate are due to get married any second now, metaphorically. This is just what I felt when I felt it.
And like most things I feel, now that I'm done with it, I'm done.
8/17/03
At Least Take Me Out For Dinner & Mini Golf First. Call Me Pretty. SOMETHING.
My schedule next week:
Saturday/6 to noon
Sunday/6:30 to noon
Tuesday/7 to noon
Friday/7 to 2:30
This is what Samir of Office Space lore so eloquently referred to as a FUCK! Pissant shifts with only one break that I of course will have to go to bed around 9 and wake up at 4 or 5 for. Rapture. SO asking for Sundays off. Bastids.
Autobiographical CD, not favorite, but most accurate in no particular order:
Violent Femmes/Add It Up
Rage Against the Machine/Beautiful World
Soundgarden/My Wave
Everlast/Black Jesus
Social Distortion/Bad Luck
Everclear/You Make Me Feel Like A Whore
eels/Novocaine For The Soul
U2/I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Kenny Wayne Shepherd/Blue On Black
Red Hot Chili Peppers/Knock Me Down
Johnny Cash/Hurt
Tom Petty/You Don't Know How It Feels
the Police/King Of Pain
Nirvana/All Apologies (studio)
Rolling Stones/Paint It Black
Al Green/Tired Of Being Alone
Talking Heads/Road To Nowhere
My schedule next week:
Saturday/6 to noon
Sunday/6:30 to noon
Tuesday/7 to noon
Friday/7 to 2:30
This is what Samir of Office Space lore so eloquently referred to as a FUCK! Pissant shifts with only one break that I of course will have to go to bed around 9 and wake up at 4 or 5 for. Rapture. SO asking for Sundays off. Bastids.
Autobiographical CD, not favorite, but most accurate in no particular order:
Violent Femmes/Add It Up
Rage Against the Machine/Beautiful World
Soundgarden/My Wave
Everlast/Black Jesus
Social Distortion/Bad Luck
Everclear/You Make Me Feel Like A Whore
eels/Novocaine For The Soul
U2/I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Kenny Wayne Shepherd/Blue On Black
Red Hot Chili Peppers/Knock Me Down
Johnny Cash/Hurt
Tom Petty/You Don't Know How It Feels
the Police/King Of Pain
Nirvana/All Apologies (studio)
Rolling Stones/Paint It Black
Al Green/Tired Of Being Alone
Talking Heads/Road To Nowhere
8/16/03
Y Nowwwwwwwww, SU (al norte) Tijuana Reevoluuuuuuuuciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiión!
*siiiiiiigh* Didn't get the two I really wanted. 6-10 if I'm lucky. It's not that it's a bad team, I just have this undefinable pit in my stomach that...well, you'll see.
1) Wanted Vick. #6. Not happening. So instead, Clinton Portis. *shrug* Hopefully he doesn't hit the wall or get injured.
2) Curtis Martin. Not so bad. I think.
3) Plaxico Burress. I can live with it.
4) Steve McNair. Pretty solid, will play if it kills him.
5) Jimmy Smith. I unno, I know he's sick of Jacksonville and he's like 46, but still--but he's going to be a starting WR. Eeeeee....AND he's just been suspended four games for drug abuse. This just in: FUCK YOU, JESUS.
6) Philly's D, because Tampa's went about 7 picks before. Fuck. It'll do.
7) Kerry Collins. I don't think he's going 4K again but as a backup QB to a cyborgian starter it'll work.
8) Atlanta's D. THAT'S how bad the offensive picks looked to me, and they helped last year.
9) Antwaan Randle-El. Ooh, a pick that doesn't cause me indigestion! YAY!
10) Ike Hilliard. I can run him/Collins in Tennessee's off week, and hopefully the Giants are playing SDSU or someone...
11) Frank Wycheck. Need a TE, the big 4 were gone. Meh.
12) Michael Bennett, to shut up the autodrafter which apparently sucked him off since I kept getting prodded to pick him the last 4+ rounds.
13) Joe Nedney. Needed a kicker, keeping up the Titan vibe.
14) Cam Cleeland. Apparently the TE for the Rams. I don't even know anymore.
15) Carson Palmer. It's the last round, why the hell not.
So you can see it's a crapshoot as usual. 6-10...ugh...Daddy needs a calmative.
*siiiiiiigh* Didn't get the two I really wanted. 6-10 if I'm lucky. It's not that it's a bad team, I just have this undefinable pit in my stomach that...well, you'll see.
1) Wanted Vick. #6. Not happening. So instead, Clinton Portis. *shrug* Hopefully he doesn't hit the wall or get injured.
2) Curtis Martin. Not so bad. I think.
3) Plaxico Burress. I can live with it.
4) Steve McNair. Pretty solid, will play if it kills him.
5) Jimmy Smith. I unno, I know he's sick of Jacksonville and he's like 46, but still--but he's going to be a starting WR. Eeeeee....AND he's just been suspended four games for drug abuse. This just in: FUCK YOU, JESUS.
6) Philly's D, because Tampa's went about 7 picks before. Fuck. It'll do.
7) Kerry Collins. I don't think he's going 4K again but as a backup QB to a cyborgian starter it'll work.
8) Atlanta's D. THAT'S how bad the offensive picks looked to me, and they helped last year.
9) Antwaan Randle-El. Ooh, a pick that doesn't cause me indigestion! YAY!
10) Ike Hilliard. I can run him/Collins in Tennessee's off week, and hopefully the Giants are playing SDSU or someone...
11) Frank Wycheck. Need a TE, the big 4 were gone. Meh.
12) Michael Bennett, to shut up the autodrafter which apparently sucked him off since I kept getting prodded to pick him the last 4+ rounds.
13) Joe Nedney. Needed a kicker, keeping up the Titan vibe.
14) Cam Cleeland. Apparently the TE for the Rams. I don't even know anymore.
15) Carson Palmer. It's the last round, why the hell not.
So you can see it's a crapshoot as usual. 6-10...ugh...Daddy needs a calmative.
8/15/03
G.O.O.D.
Lesse what I did do today. Money sent for Spree & AI? Check.
Got some writing done? Check.
Got my Davis & LeBron jerseys? Word 'em up.
Saw S.W.A.T.? Check. ***½ out of ****, ****¼ out of five, don't care to translate it to 10. Paid $8.50 but I don't feel gypped in the least. Not gonna win any Oscars but if you want a cool action flick with bad-ass motherfuckers being bad-ass motherfuckers (namely Mssrs. Farrell & L. Jackson, and Ms. Rodriguez) then go off to see it.
Tomorrow's the fantasy football draft for my (North) Tijuana Revolución so you can bet I'll bitch about that on my way to Sunday. And I might go see American Wedding.
Ve shall see.
Lesse what I did do today. Money sent for Spree & AI? Check.
Got some writing done? Check.
Got my Davis & LeBron jerseys? Word 'em up.
Saw S.W.A.T.? Check. ***½ out of ****, ****¼ out of five, don't care to translate it to 10. Paid $8.50 but I don't feel gypped in the least. Not gonna win any Oscars but if you want a cool action flick with bad-ass motherfuckers being bad-ass motherfuckers (namely Mssrs. Farrell & L. Jackson, and Ms. Rodriguez) then go off to see it.
Tomorrow's the fantasy football draft for my (North) Tijuana Revolución so you can bet I'll bitch about that on my way to Sunday. And I might go see American Wedding.
Ve shall see.
8/14/03
Four Steps Back, Two Steps Forward
Thanks to the July 20th fiasco, I find out my fine: $160. UNbelievable, cause it seems to me when I wasn't doing it on the last day of the ComicCon, say, for instance, Sunday, or, say, the three other occasions before that, the fine was ZERO. They'll get my money right before it becomes a legal issue, the cockjuggling pigfuckers.
On the other hand, the Melo jersey arrived today. It looks good but the guy sending it was cheap so it's kinda wrinkled. I may have to use an iron. I know, I know.
A lot of A! work to do, and the Revolución get brought to life Saturday. Also, tomorrow, I got to send in the SDSU monies and send money order for the Sprewell (maybe the A.I. too). Busy couple days off.
Thanks to the July 20th fiasco, I find out my fine: $160. UNbelievable, cause it seems to me when I wasn't doing it on the last day of the ComicCon, say, for instance, Sunday, or, say, the three other occasions before that, the fine was ZERO. They'll get my money right before it becomes a legal issue, the cockjuggling pigfuckers.
On the other hand, the Melo jersey arrived today. It looks good but the guy sending it was cheap so it's kinda wrinkled. I may have to use an iron. I know, I know.
A lot of A! work to do, and the Revolución get brought to life Saturday. Also, tomorrow, I got to send in the SDSU monies and send money order for the Sprewell (maybe the A.I. too). Busy couple days off.
8/13/03
New Jersey Chronicles
Lost the road Payton jersey by a quarter for $26. BAH.
Won the retrofied Sprewell for $50. HUZZAH! You can see it here. This sends people a clear message: I like orange, and should I be pushed enough I will choke the shit out of you.
Winning the retro AI jersey at $60, too, though that don't end until Thursday. All the jerseys I mentioned in the past (LeBron, Melo, and Davis) are on their way from the corners of the country. Yay me!
Lost the road Payton jersey by a quarter for $26. BAH.
Won the retrofied Sprewell for $50. HUZZAH! You can see it here. This sends people a clear message: I like orange, and should I be pushed enough I will choke the shit out of you.
Winning the retro AI jersey at $60, too, though that don't end until Thursday. All the jerseys I mentioned in the past (LeBron, Melo, and Davis) are on their way from the corners of the country. Yay me!
8/7/03
Didn't Even Have To Use My AK
You know what seperates a good Simpsons ep from a great one? It's when the little jokes, the throwaway shit unrelated to the storyline, makes you laugh just as hard as the main event stuff. Days are like that, too. To wit:
*picked up lunch on the way to work, and walked in right on time to punch in. I was a couple minutes late with changing, and rushed through it. Of course, I was the only one who needed a briefing, and my boss was later than I. Smoooth.
*Ended up coat check for the first half of my shift. ("You're doing two things today, since you're good enough to," sayeth my boss, and I say "Mkay" 'cause the check cashes the same, know what I mean?) The best part of coat check is that you get to SIT! MMM SITTING! Considering how my back's been in arrears for standing for seven hour shifts this was a welcome switch. 3 people showed up in 90 minutes, two before I even technically opened. So that meant I got to church sleep on the job AND I went undetected. Clearly, the decision to wear the Kobe jersey was paying dividends. Oh, yeah, and there was this hottie working the Mrs. Fields booth and when I bought my cookie she gave me 50 cents off. KEVORKA. Feel it. Know it. Call it Papi.
*I finally woke up for good and 2 minutes later the breaker showed up. ROLLING.
*As I started my break, I realized I was working late enough to pick up the check today and not have to come back for it tomorrow so I don't have to see work again until I'm doing it Sunday.
*One of the FIVE people I handled in coat check couldn't fit it into his bag, so I know am the possesor of the world's most powerful umbrella! An umbrella so strong it won't falter in the face of an airport plane's JET. Dig it. I don't know when the hell I'm going to use it in the next, oh, four months, but a thing like that's a good thing to have in the holster regardless of when you need to fire it. Besides, worst comes to worst I'll sell the fucker on Ebay.
*Was the breaker for the second wave, and broke them all impeccably just in time to get off. Three guys gave me a 2-buck tip for hailing them a cab, too.
*Hit my connections, and came home to find out the Baron Davis jersey is MINE at $22 less C & H, and I'm an hour away from having the 'Melo.
In the immortal words of Mahatma Ghandi upon India's release from British rule after World War II, " DAMN I'M GOOD! CAN YOU FEEL IT?! HUH?! CAN YA?!"
You know what seperates a good Simpsons ep from a great one? It's when the little jokes, the throwaway shit unrelated to the storyline, makes you laugh just as hard as the main event stuff. Days are like that, too. To wit:
*picked up lunch on the way to work, and walked in right on time to punch in. I was a couple minutes late with changing, and rushed through it. Of course, I was the only one who needed a briefing, and my boss was later than I. Smoooth.
*Ended up coat check for the first half of my shift. ("You're doing two things today, since you're good enough to," sayeth my boss, and I say "Mkay" 'cause the check cashes the same, know what I mean?) The best part of coat check is that you get to SIT! MMM SITTING! Considering how my back's been in arrears for standing for seven hour shifts this was a welcome switch. 3 people showed up in 90 minutes, two before I even technically opened. So that meant I got to church sleep on the job AND I went undetected. Clearly, the decision to wear the Kobe jersey was paying dividends. Oh, yeah, and there was this hottie working the Mrs. Fields booth and when I bought my cookie she gave me 50 cents off. KEVORKA. Feel it. Know it. Call it Papi.
*I finally woke up for good and 2 minutes later the breaker showed up. ROLLING.
*As I started my break, I realized I was working late enough to pick up the check today and not have to come back for it tomorrow so I don't have to see work again until I'm doing it Sunday.
*One of the FIVE people I handled in coat check couldn't fit it into his bag, so I know am the possesor of the world's most powerful umbrella! An umbrella so strong it won't falter in the face of an airport plane's JET. Dig it. I don't know when the hell I'm going to use it in the next, oh, four months, but a thing like that's a good thing to have in the holster regardless of when you need to fire it. Besides, worst comes to worst I'll sell the fucker on Ebay.
*Was the breaker for the second wave, and broke them all impeccably just in time to get off. Three guys gave me a 2-buck tip for hailing them a cab, too.
*Hit my connections, and came home to find out the Baron Davis jersey is MINE at $22 less C & H, and I'm an hour away from having the 'Melo.
In the immortal words of Mahatma Ghandi upon India's release from British rule after World War II, " DAMN I'M GOOD! CAN YOU FEEL IT?! HUH?! CAN YA?!"
8/6/03
Tale of Two Things
Work was boring, yet again. I think this job's going to turn me into a hunchback by Halloween. Every damn night my back hurts.
JERSEY DRIVER: Lost the LeBron auction by a buck, but just skipped to buying it right away for $50. Guy's up in Davis, too, so once I send out the money order Friday it shouldn't take too long for me to have it in my possession. Still winning the Anthony at $41 and Baron at $22, lying in wait on Gervin, Mullin and the Big O, lost a road OLD SCHOOL New York Nets road Dr. J--I WILL HAVE IT. MARK MY WORDS.
That's all for today--up early tomorrow.
Work was boring, yet again. I think this job's going to turn me into a hunchback by Halloween. Every damn night my back hurts.
JERSEY DRIVER: Lost the LeBron auction by a buck, but just skipped to buying it right away for $50. Guy's up in Davis, too, so once I send out the money order Friday it shouldn't take too long for me to have it in my possession. Still winning the Anthony at $41 and Baron at $22, lying in wait on Gervin, Mullin and the Big O, lost a road OLD SCHOOL New York Nets road Dr. J--I WILL HAVE IT. MARK MY WORDS.
That's all for today--up early tomorrow.
8/5/03
Blowing My Money On Something BESIDES Crack & Whores
Signed up for eBay today to keep up my jersey fix.
Currently winning auctions on a road LeBron for $50, the road Carmelo Anthony for $38, and a road Baron Davis for $20. Currently looking over auctions for retro Oscar Robertson, George Gervin, annnnnnnd...wait for it....Chris Mullin jerseys.
Thus, you know now what I did on my day off, and how my quest to become John Cena continues. Word life.
Signed up for eBay today to keep up my jersey fix.
Currently winning auctions on a road LeBron for $50, the road Carmelo Anthony for $38, and a road Baron Davis for $20. Currently looking over auctions for retro Oscar Robertson, George Gervin, annnnnnnd...wait for it....Chris Mullin jerseys.
Thus, you know now what I did on my day off, and how my quest to become John Cena continues. Word life.
8/3/03
Hooooooooooooly FUCK
No, this isn't about how "Tainted Love" was playing when I recounted the earlier story, or how "Closer" was as I DIDN'T FAP to the Jessica Alba pictures Chaz was kind enough to hook me up with.
Lewis Black. Dave Attell. In concert. TOGETHA.
It's the week before Thanksgiving but I really give a rat's ass-- I AM GOING TO SEE THIS SHOW UNLESS I DIE BEFORE THEN.
Promise you that.
No, this isn't about how "Tainted Love" was playing when I recounted the earlier story, or how "Closer" was as I DIDN'T FAP to the Jessica Alba pictures Chaz was kind enough to hook me up with.
Lewis Black. Dave Attell. In concert. TOGETHA.
It's the week before Thanksgiving but I really give a rat's ass-- I AM GOING TO SEE THIS SHOW UNLESS I DIE BEFORE THEN.
Promise you that.
Double Jeopardy OR I'd Like What the FUCK Was THAT For 2000, Alex
Aren't you lucky two freak occurences happened to me in the last hour within the span of 10 minutes? I wasn't even going to update today because we replaced the tech geeks wiiiiiiith...optometry tech geeks (siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh), but since my real last name is Murphy, I should lay down the law.
I'm coming home after putting in my seven hours with The Man and I'm one stop away from being a quick ride home. I look up to make sure I'm in fact where I'm pretty sure I am, and that's when incident one happens.
Incident 1 is a high school girl sitting across from me, who less two cup sizes looks exactly like the first girl I fell in love with. Glasses, long blonde hair. Six years disappears in this instant. I tried doing the Nicholson walk, and I went right into a post. My chest tightens up, and thankfully the ride ends for me about 30 seconds later before I hit the fetal position and start hyperventilating.
I'm walking out the street and I'm breathing through my mouth because it's so wide open. Up the block I go, rattled. But it's only a block! I mean, what could happen in the course of a block?
My shirt.
An entirely different high school girl (I'm sentencing a pattern here) wearing a ROLE MODEL shirt is walking west where I'm walking east. I try to be gentlemanly and let her have the right of way but she stands in front of me.
At first I think it's due to my handsome face or my handsome ways but it's only then I realize I'm wearing my "Don't fight the feeling, you know you want me." shirt.
She begins to laugh. LOUD. So loud you could hear it up the block at the Starbucks and across the street at the other Starbucks. Normally I'd think my sense of humor came through but on the heels on the last thing I just...I don't know what to say. I'm still in shock. This is the sort of thing that happens only to me.
I'm going to eat dinner and try to forget.
Aren't you lucky two freak occurences happened to me in the last hour within the span of 10 minutes? I wasn't even going to update today because we replaced the tech geeks wiiiiiiith...optometry tech geeks (siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh), but since my real last name is Murphy, I should lay down the law.
I'm coming home after putting in my seven hours with The Man and I'm one stop away from being a quick ride home. I look up to make sure I'm in fact where I'm pretty sure I am, and that's when incident one happens.
Incident 1 is a high school girl sitting across from me, who less two cup sizes looks exactly like the first girl I fell in love with. Glasses, long blonde hair. Six years disappears in this instant. I tried doing the Nicholson walk, and I went right into a post. My chest tightens up, and thankfully the ride ends for me about 30 seconds later before I hit the fetal position and start hyperventilating.
I'm walking out the street and I'm breathing through my mouth because it's so wide open. Up the block I go, rattled. But it's only a block! I mean, what could happen in the course of a block?
My shirt.
An entirely different high school girl (I'm sentencing a pattern here) wearing a ROLE MODEL shirt is walking west where I'm walking east. I try to be gentlemanly and let her have the right of way but she stands in front of me.
At first I think it's due to my handsome face or my handsome ways but it's only then I realize I'm wearing my "Don't fight the feeling, you know you want me." shirt.
She begins to laugh. LOUD. So loud you could hear it up the block at the Starbucks and across the street at the other Starbucks. Normally I'd think my sense of humor came through but on the heels on the last thing I just...I don't know what to say. I'm still in shock. This is the sort of thing that happens only to me.
I'm going to eat dinner and try to forget.
8/2/03
8/1/03
Butch Rosser To Reaccept Jesus In Life?
Jessica Alba to play a nymphomaniac in a movie set for production in 2005. Her character is called Chesty McBust, she is an up and coming porn star who loves her job. She is said to be playing along side Ben Dover. The title of the movie is not yet known but the writers are throwing around 'Rumor' and 'Blatant Rumor'. This is going to be the first movie containing nude scenes done by her and not a double since now she has split up with MW.
In the immortal words of the Smiths, please please PLEASE let me get what I want.
Jessica Alba to play a nymphomaniac in a movie set for production in 2005. Her character is called Chesty McBust, she is an up and coming porn star who loves her job. She is said to be playing along side Ben Dover. The title of the movie is not yet known but the writers are throwing around 'Rumor' and 'Blatant Rumor'. This is going to be the first movie containing nude scenes done by her and not a double since now she has split up with MW.
In the immortal words of the Smiths, please please PLEASE let me get what I want.
Blowing Up Like Oklahoma
(San Diego, CA) -- The 2003 fiscal year was a record-breaking one, across the board, for the San Diego Convention Center. Officials say the economic impact for the San Diego area reached nearly $1 billion. Almost 405,000 out-of-town convention delegates generated more than $21 million for the city of San Diego in hotel room and sales tax revenue. Attendance was the highest in seven years, with over 810,000 coming to center events.
Yuuuup...that's mah job.
(San Diego, CA) -- The 2003 fiscal year was a record-breaking one, across the board, for the San Diego Convention Center. Officials say the economic impact for the San Diego area reached nearly $1 billion. Almost 405,000 out-of-town convention delegates generated more than $21 million for the city of San Diego in hotel room and sales tax revenue. Attendance was the highest in seven years, with over 810,000 coming to center events.
Yuuuup...that's mah job.
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