Yup, that's me. It seems that every time my roommate and his significant other are having a discussion, one of them will make a declarative statement, and then the other will dispute it. The subjects range from religion to dirty-dishes, so the conversations are quite diverse. I'll be sitting here at my computer desk, and "Hey Pookie!" will waft in from the other room. My response is almost invariably "What-ee?", even though I know that the "Arbitrator" is now needed.
Tonight's episode included the most rivetting question I've had to judge to date. The dispute was Herculean, and I knew that the matter would require all my faculties to properly bring about balance to the Universe.
Really though. The question was: "Was Cheer's a "Male" show?". It took me about a second-and-a-half to answer "It was Androgynous". Luckily, all parties involved understood the meaning of androgynous, so they went back to their discussion.
Just think. I could have been hanging out with this guy tonight. Despite all these new rules, I would have had a good time.
Stupid high gas prices.
I don't know...it sounded like a good post title. Let's see what's been goin' on shall we?
On the work front, Kev and I had hoped to get the second elevator turned over late today, but alas, it was not to be. This one is being a bit bitchy to adjust, and has thrown us a loop or two. Last Thursday, we got done adjusting the door operator, and went ahead and hooked up the "Janus Edges" (That's the little widgit that opens the door's back up when you stick your hand in front of it.) and the frickin' thing decided taht it wasn't going to work. We lost a half a day to tearing out the old one and installing a new system. It's always the little things that you can't predict that get you behind. Maybe we can get it adjusted out and "cooked in" by Wednesday afternoon. We'll see.
I had a totally groovetastic weekend. I got to spend some quality time, with a really good friend of mine, Pretty-much all day Saturday, and I got to spend time with friends and family (well, family and friends, actually) on Sunday, as it was my Dad's Birthday shindig. There was a fish fry, cake and ice cream, and wonderful fellowship just everywhere. No two way's about it. Just a great weekend.
As for bad stuff, every time I go to kneel down to pick something up, both of my knees creak like an old rocking chair. Standing up from this position is even worse. My legs ae nearly constantly sore from the bending and twisting, and I get to climb two flights of stairs up to the machine room at least twelve times a day. By the end of each day, my damn "Dog's is Barkin'" if you know what I mean. Ah well, It can't all be "Beer and Skittles", or else I'd get complaisant. Can't have that.
Still drinking way too much beer, but I haven't had the first drop of liqour on a weeknight since I made up my mind I wasn't gonna. No more tardie's either. Still doing well on that front, so I figure I've got that licked. Next up? Less beer, but that really ain't gonna be easy. I'll just take it slow, and see how it goes.
Sorry I've been away for a little while, so let me make it up to you by telling what's been up since my last post a week ago. My lack of posting has been an effect of Beal, exhaustion, and being "broker than a convict" over the last little bit.
About three weeks ago, my roommate got canned from his job. He got shafted by the company he was with, as he went in there and did the job he was assigned to do, actually corrected some long-standing problems with the software he was working with, but managed to step on the toes of a few people in the process. They fired him right at the end of his three-month "Assessment Period" for the bullshit excuse of "poor communication skills". I think that they just hired him in as a "Closer", but they never bothered to let him know that. Alas, the upshot is that a large portion of my check is now going toward keeping this household afloat until he can get some other gainful employment. He's got a few prospects and has interviewed a few times, so I hope it won't be too long.
Work has been a bit trying here lately. They took the crew that was on second shift, and pulled them off to Memphis to do some work down there. They've run into some problems, so there's no telling when they'll be back to help us out. This has had the dual effect of putting us behind our timetable for completion of this modernization, and forced Kevin and I to do all the grunt-work as well as the head-work. We're making good progress, but it's taking a physical and mental toll on us both. When I get home each evening, I try to take at least one turn through my blogroll, then I get something to eat. Around 6:30, I'll sit down in my easy cahir, and watch some tube. I wind up slipping in and out of consciousness until around 8 or 8:30, and then I'm "up" until at least 1:00 AM. Completely zoned out, but I'm still more or less awake. Rest is at a premium, and I've not been getting enough. Ah well, C'est La Vie, so they say.
I've been maging to stay offa the hard stuff during the week, even though my reportage of it has been lax. Wednesday and Thursday, I had six beers each. Friday and Saturday I has a drop of the "Old Kentucky" but they don't count as it's the weekend. Last night, I had nine, and it looks to be that I'll hit a similar number tonight. Still no liqour during the week, so I've not had any more trady's to work. this is a good thing, and I feel pretty stinking all right about it. I'll give it some time to settle in, and then I'll work on dropping the beer intake as well. I'll try to keep everyone posted.
Now it's time for me to show some bloggy love to those who've shown me a little over the past little while. First off, I'd like to thank (newcomer to my comments) Richmond of One For the Road for stopping by. She's had a few nice things to say, and I appreciate her voicing her encouragement. The lovely and tallented Sarah K. of Mountaineer Musings, is offerring up a few prayers on my behalf, and (even as an unbeliever) I surely appreciate the sentiments. Contagion of Miasmatic Review left me some advice on keeping the drink to a minimum, and I certainly can use all the help I can get. Blog-Son Tuck of Thought Drizzle (even though he hasn't blogged in awhile. Shakes Fist!) left some thoughts about his own tribulations with the "Demon Spirits" and I thank him for the uplifting words. I missed both Bou's and Harvey's Birthday's, and for that I truly apologize. You both have been so kind, and I wasn't able to reciprocate. At least there's next year. I got to at least buy a beer or two for Blog-Daughter Sarah on her Birthday, and I'm pleased that I was able to spend time with her. Finally, both Eric and Tammi expressed concern over my lack of posting, and I certainly appreciate the concern. Many thanks go out to all of you. Hopefully, I'll do something soon to deserve your kindness.
More soon, If the Beal repeals.
I'm proud to announce that I have only had seven beers this fine evening. This is the smallest alchohol (by volume) intake I've had in a while, and things are going good. Over the weekend I bought myself a very small bottle of bourbon to enjoy. It was a 375ml, and it barely lasted me the two days, but It got me by. I made sure to get something that I knew I would finish in two days or less (so I didn't have any left come Monday) and it worked out fine.
Work is going well, despite the fact that we no longer have a second shift. We've had the second car running on construction inspect for well over a week ow, and we are getting down to brass tacks with it. We are doing all the fabrication for the new items installed on the car-top, and it's going pretty darn well. The first car has been running for over two weeks on Automatic, and we've had a few wierd errors. Nothing Earth-Shattering, but enough to be a pain in the ass. I checked the "Event Log" first thing this morning and found a pleasant surprise. Saturday showed three Events, and they all can be attributed to the cleaning crew getting on the conveyance, and making it look pretty. Yesterday showed no events. Not One. If this is a harbinger of things to come, then these are going to be "Good Elevator's" when it's all said and done.
Hope things are going well for all of you.
It was a fairly busy day, and I watched the Nascar truck race this evening (I dozed through half of it, Oval-track racing does that to me.). We were going "Wide Open" all day at work and managed to get a few things accomplished. The worst thing was dealing with idiotic electrician's. I swear that I've never met such, unobservant stupid people in my life. They were running new 110v AC for our car lights, and had to mount new disconnects in the machine room. After about a three-minute debate about which controller was One,Two, or Three, I just threw my hands in the air and pointed to the numbers that are stencilled into the face of each one. It finally sunk in, and I could get back to doing my job.
At any rate, I'm frickin' tired. My roommate has decided that he wants to chat about his video game and such, so he is now yammering in my ear about it. He's one of the types of people who has no internal volume control, so he's practically yelling about it, while the girls are trying to sleep in the other room. I've tried and tried to tell him that he does this, but to no avail. Great. No Jenny just came out of her room and started bitching because he's so damn loud. This'll help me get to sleep.
I'm through yammering for tonight. Work looms early on the morrow. The count is: 8 twelve-ounce beers, but I'm certain it'll turn into nine before it's all done tonight.
I've got this little comic that I cut out of a newspaper years ago. It's just one panel, but it is quite poignant in what it has to say. The strip was called "Real Life Adventures" and I have no idea what paper it came out of, or how long I've had it.
The panel has a man on the left holding a glass, and a woman on the right whith a finger pointing towards the glass. The conversation goes thus:
Man: "I decided I've been drinking too much beer, so I've given it up on weekdays."
Woman: "That's a good idea. What do you have there?"
Man: "Scotch"
The caption below the comic reads "Some believe it's better to get on the wagon one leg at a time."
Afew day's ago, I made the mistake of purchasing another big bottle of Bourbon. My thinking (when I bought it) was, that I'd just have a shot before I went to bed to help me get to sleep. The problem is that "a shot" leads to another one, and then to a full glass, and then to several full glasses. I wound up completely "blasted off my ass" when I posted my little missive last night. I wound up late for work this morning.
I HATE THAT.
I'm a person who takes a lot of pride in my profession, and for me to neglect my partner in favor of a bottle of goddamn booze is just not acceptable. Unfortunately for me, it means only one thing. I gotta go Cold Turkey. No more Hard Stuff while I'm sitting here alone, which means there can be no more liquor around my house with my name on it. I'll still have a beer or three each evening, but I intend to report to all of you how many I've had before I sleep each night.
It's not much, but it's something. If I have to write out how much I drink here, then maybe it'll help me accept how much is going into my gullett, and help me cut back. It's worth a try right?
Tonight's count: 1 ten-ounce glsss of bourbon on the rocks (It's the last of the bottle I purchased a few days ago), and five 12oz. beers.
Trust me when I tell you that this is already a "Light Night" for me. There's normally (at least) three more bourbons tacked on there. I'm gonna get this shit in check before I wind up drinking my fool self to death.
Let's hope that the "Wagon" slow's down a bit.
There was a time in my life when I was a technical support agent for a large software company. My best friend at the time happenned to be a feamle that I had known for about 10 years. She was living in an apartment above an establishment in Knoxville's "Old City" (a collection of night clubs and assorted bars that attempted to rejuvenate the inner city, and failed.) which was rather lively at the time. I helped her move into her second floor appartment, and I helped her move out of it. Like friends do.
it came about that there was a Prince (Or the Artist formerly known as) concert that was happening in Nashville, and I expressed interest in making a trip. As it transpired, I got roped into driving. I didn't mind, as I had a vehicle that would hold all the reveller's comfortably. The rest of the crew had either econo-boxes or pick-ups, and I was rolling a Ford Taurus sedan. The best part is that it had a 300 cubic-inch V6 under the hood that would flat scream.
Craig rode passenger, I drove, while April and Deb were in the back on the way over there. The girls were mixing Screwdriver's for the traveller's, and I can honestly say that I had more than "just a few" on the drive down. We stopped in Crossville, TN for a bite to eat at a Popey's Chicken joint. All in all the trip took about Two hours. The drive is around 300 miles, therefore it should take about Four Hours and Twenty minutes (at Seventy miles an hour). the best part is.. the speedometer only went to 80 mph. I had that thing pegged to way past the limit, and the needle was just bouncing off its stop.
I recall a time during the trip when April pointed the Speedo reading out to
Deb, and she said something on the order of "Oh God". I found that amusing at the time, and the memory does the same. It was a fun trip, and a great concert.
The most interesting part of the story is that Deb is ten-years my senior, but she was "On the outs" with her hubby, so she was crashing over at April's place. She came to the concert on a sorta "peer-pressure" level. Because Deb was "staying over" at April's, and I would crash there from time to time (I'm a Damn Drunk, so somtimes I avail myself of the occasional couch) Deb's hubby Dave determined that I was Fucking her. (Don't get me wrong, I would have if she had given me at least a little bit of interest in that situation... but she didn't.)
All this is, is my remeniscing. There's no Point behind it. I'm just remembering for my own sake. Those were good times. I hope to experience many more.
There's too much stuff running through my head right now. Katrina has caused much trouble down there, and I can't bring myself to watch any of the coverage, just because I know how much it'll piss me off. Rumors, conjecture, and outright lies are everywhere. It's not that I don't care, it's just that I don't care about the people who are telling the story. All of the news agencies can take a flying fuck as far as I'm concerned. I've got my own shit to deal with.
THis weekend, my roommate's brother got married, so the rest of the household was absent for the better part of Friday and Saturday. Peace and quiet. Damn that's nice. Unfortunately it made me realize what's been causing my general malaise over the last few weeks. I'm fuckin' lonely. (It's much easier to realize it when you're actually alone.) You see. I'm something of an empath. When someone is talking to me, I can "see" where they are coming from, and have an innate ability to convey to them that I understand. (The vast majority of the time, I really do understand). The problem is: when "I" want to vent my spleen, they are alway's too interested in venting thier own, that they can't see where I'm coming from. It's very frustrating. Knowing that you can provide solace and confort to someone who is unable to reciprocate. It sucks.
After ten (or so) years of these conditions, a body tends to swallow his own emotions. Take them internal, so they're not so destructive to the people around him. But there comes a time to vent, and every time I try to, there's no sympathetic ear.
I'm not asking for anything, just a reminder of the cross that I bear. Sometimes it's too much.