Kaxtorplose was cold, and getting colder by the minute. His damaged environment suit, the result of a botched landing in the murky swamp, was barely able to retain enough warmth to keep his extremities from freezing. Moving constantly and vigorously through the ubiquitous morass of tangled plant matter and chopping away with his makeshift machete helped to keep the cold at bay, but he had already had several warnings pop up on his HUD during the last few minutes. Within the next half hour, if the status quo remained unchanged, he would start to enter the first stages of hypothermia. The air temperature registered at a few degrees above the freezing point of water, but it wasn't the air which was leaching the heat from his body. It was the stagnant swamp through which he methodically toiled. All he could do was slog onward and try to keep his mind occupied, hoping that he would reach his destination in time. According to the nav com, which maintained a tenuous link with his orbiting ship, he was almost there. Just a few more kilometers... hell, the outskirts would be visible now if it weren't for the damnable fog... but the resistance he encountered as each step was temporarily mired in the rotting vegetation of the swamp was dangerously slowing his forward progress. He tried to take his mind off of that, plus the fact that his only means of returning to his ship had just been thoroughly wrecked, by letting his subconscious take over. Step. Chop. Clear. Chop. Step. And so on. His thoughts wandered with the mundanity of the chore, and he found himself mentally reviewing he odd stellar arrangement which made life on this planet possible.
The system consisted of two stars... the primary, a neutron star, and the secondary, a red supergiant currently undergoing helium flash. The neutron star was a mass of densely packed neutrons, measuring only about 20 kilometers in diameter. This seemed tiny when compared to the 200 million kilometer diameter of the supergiant, but amazingly, the neutron star contained about five times more mass than it's companion. However, by itself, it did not emit nearly enough heat to warm the atypical planet which revolved around the tiny, compact ball of degenerate matter... there had to be another source of energy. This came in the form of a steady influx of elements which flooded in from the secondary, pulled by the enormous gravity of the neutron star. Viewed from the perspective of several AU's above the solar ecliptic, the binary system resembled a vast whirlpool. Mass from the the supergiant, falling steadily into the primary, swirled inevitably around the region of acutely warped spacetime until it impacted the surface of the ancient husk at relativistic speeds. This process actually stretched the shape of the supergiant into an oblate spheroid roughly the shape of an egg. The narrow end extended itself inexorably towards the primary, as if it were reaching longingly across space for the embrace of it's ages dead companion. Viewed in the infrared part of the spectrum, the supergiant took on the uninterrupted shape of one long piece of stretched material that got thinner and thinner as it wrapped itself several times around the neutron star before finally joining with its surface. Where regular matter impacted neutronium, a cascade of x-rays shone like a interstellar beacon, outshining the equivalent energy of a thousand stars. When enough matter from the supergiant finally merged with the neutron star, it's mass would finally reach a point where its imminent collapse could no longer be held in check. Once that happened, the neutron star would implode in upon itself, forcing all of its mass into an infinitely dense point called a singularity. It would become a black hole.
But that wouldn't occur for millions of years, of course... no danger there. Not that Kaxtorplose had millions of years... according to the latest warning flashed across his HUD, he had about fifteen more minutes before he really began to shiver. The fog was still as dense as ever ahead of him, but it seemed to be clearing in a pattern which would soon dissipate over his position. He could see behind him now for quite a distance, and was now able to make out the alien landscape in some detail. The swamp stretched on for as far as he could see in all directions, dotted here and there by dense clusters of native vegetation. He could just barely make out the silhouette of his lander on the distant horizon, brought into relief by the dim red light of the setting supergiant. The distant haze of the retreating fog scattered the faint illumination of the binary pair, offering a lurid cast to the stagnant, ominous landscape. Any positive respite that he had imagined with the parting of the oppressive mist now seemed to languish as the encroaching gloam slowly usurped the twilight.
The HUD flashed for his attention. He was about to dismiss the warning again but the audial tone was different this time. Kaxtorplose stopped in mid stride, slowly bringing the sheared piece of metal that he was using as a machete down to his side, and squinted. He switched on his helmet lights, which until now had been all but useless in the dense fog. Through the thinning, swirling mist, he could dimly make out a structure of some kind. His suit sensors were definitely picking up a weak but massive infrared source just another couple of hundred meters ahead. His HUD was getting brighter as the fog cleared, letting more and more infrared energy through, and then his heat sinks kicked in. Normally used to dissipate waste heat, he had reversed the programming so that they now absorbed any ambient energy which might be available in the general vicinity. The heat sinks made a comforting thrumming sound, and with a sense of profound relief Kaxtorplose began to feel his extremities warming up as they tapped into the radiation being dispelled by the structure ahead. He summoned his reserve energy and waded ungainly towards the outskirts of the 'city'. As he got closer, he began to make out detail. There were buildings, of a sort... strange, geometrical protrusions which seemed to wind, twist, fold, convolute, and weave in all directions. It was very hard to discern at first, but there was definitely the impression of an overall pattern. He had suspected it based on orbital scans, but now it was confirmed. These structures were of a fractal nature. Thick, primary nodules jutted from a base substrate which rose out of the murky water by several meters. Kaxtorplose was still about a hundred meters away, but from this distance he was relatively sure that the primary nodules were about a meter thick and of a uniform, jet black color, narrowing to what appeared to be very fine termination vertices at their towering endpoints. Rising to a height of several dozen meters, each primary nodule was positioned at severe angles to the others, forming intricate juxtaposed branches and narrow interstices. At regular intervals along the length of each nodule and all around their circumferences, other nodules emerged, seemingly duplicating the original except in size. From each of these smaller nodules, even smaller protrusions would appear in regular patterns. This pattern continued until it was no longer possible to discern individual nodules... they became as insubstantial as the recently departed fog. Taken in as a visual entirety, it was apparent that what appeared random at first was the epitome of order. Each nodule pattern seemed to mesh perfectly with the surrounding patterns of other nodules, forming an intricately and perfectly woven three dimensional structure, a fractal suspension matrix.
The fractal design had many benefits, the most immediately obvious being the amount of surface area which was available for efficiently processing the tenuous illumination of the binary pair. Instead of presenting and utilizing only one uniform face to an energy source, such as with a solar panel, each fractal nodule was able to absorb energy from every direction at once, using all of its surface area. However, energy storage was merely a side effect of the true purpose of the dense fractal structure, which Kaxtorplose had began referring to as Mandlebrots Folly. Compared to the mere manipulation of holographic photons, which was the basis of traditional holographic storage techniques currently in common use, this fractal 'city' provided an increase in capacity by orders of potentially infinite magnitudes. By storing information using a quantum fractal structure at a distinct level of simultaneous causality, it was possible to store an infinite amount of data in a finite space. The only limitation to this method was the capability of the arbiter medium. Which brings us to the modern problem of the practical application of quantum fractal theory... that data can not be stored or retrieved with 100% efficiency by using any method known to modern technology because of Heisenburg's uncertainty principle. At a quantum level, the qubits, or quantum bits, which comprise the fundamental base storage unit of a potential quantum information field, cannot be observed directly or the very data you are trying to retrieve or store would be altered. It was the ultimate in data security, able to be bypassed only by viewing the raw information through some sort of arbiter medium... essentially, a 'window' which can bypass the uncertainty principle, comparable to the way a wormhole acts as an arbiter medium for bypassing the light speed barrier. It had been theorized that access to certain dimensions might provide a sufficient arbiter medium if used as a filter for observing quantum data, but the practical application was still as far away as the idea of actually building a quantum fractal suspension matrix to begin with. Yet, here one existed, right before his very eyes. Obviously someone or something had been able to turn it into a practicality.
Kaxtorplose spent a lot of time inspecting the matrix up close and came to the conclusion that the uniformly dark color of each nodule was for the express purpose of maximum heat absorption. Upon closer inspection however, he found that the surfaces of the nodules themselves (the parts he could actually observe) were constructed of another type of fractal material, and that only about half of it was actually of the black absorptive variety. The rest was of a nature that eluded all attempts at inspection (by his rudimentary suit sensors, at least). The eyes seemed to 'slide' away from these areas, and it was impossible to actually observe them in any detail whatsoever. Unless he actually tried to focus on the nodules closely, they appeared to be uniformly black. Otherwise, it was like looking at a piece of black marble striated with veins of 'nothing'. Not exactly an accurate description, but the closest Kaxtorplose could come to describing it. It was distinctly weird, he thought. He concluded that this 'invisible' material was most likely a surface manifestation of qubits, and required the arbiter medium to view directly.
Being involved with his inspection of the quantum matrix, Kaxtorplose didn't notice the shape which was quickly bounding toward him until it was only about twenty meters away. His peripheral sensors popped up a warning on the left side of his HUD, and he turned his head in that direction to regard a bizarre creature. The creature seemed to have noticed that it was now being observed, and was momentarily still, so Kaxtorplose was able to zoom in on the creature for a good look. It vaguely resembled an alligator, superficially. It was scaley, had a long tail, and a pair of long jaws with many rows of exceptionally dangerous looking teeth. It had extremely long, agile looking legs however, and a formidable set of prehensile forward claws. The idea of a head seemed to be entirely bypassed. The long, narrow jaws, instead of connecting with a braincase, oddly enough merged directly with a thick, stumpy, muscle corded neck. Kaxtorplose followed the length of the jaws outward from the neck, noting the rows of menacing teeth, until it became clear that there actually was a head. A small nodule of bony flesh sat blatantly near the edge of the upper jaw, giving the overall impression of a long paddle with a hemispherical nub protruding from the end. A pair of small, forward facing eyes were embedded in sunken sockets occupying each side of the nubby head, while a set of narrow nostrils were in place between the eyes. It was a decidedly odd sight to behold. Suddenly, the creature launched itself from its perch and landed on the stumpy end of a dead tree. It repeated this feat several times, each time using a different stump to propel its sleek, muscular body, coming closer and closer to Kaxtorploses' position. Kaxtorplose didn't hesitate. He unholstered his microwave laser and pointed it in the general direction of the nubby headed horror. Setting the beam to wide dispersal, he fired, intentionally coming up short. Where the maser beam struck, the brackish water boiled and bubbled, casting off torrents of steam. The creature was bounding toward him now, following a straight line of stumps, and Kaxtorplose brought the maser to bear, bringing the line of roiling steam directly in line with the ungodly horror. At a distance of approximately three meters, the maser beam struck the creature. Luckily, Kaxtorplose was wearing his environment helmet... because if you thought that fetid swamp stank before, you should catch a whiff if it laced with the nauseating aroma of fried, nubby headed gator brains.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Pascha, from my perspective
It's been a long time since I blogged anything. So what's to tell? There have been many blog-worthy occurrences at work and what-not, but my laptop computer is currently being held hostage by a beautiful yet cunning she-vampire and I can't seem to get access to the net when I'm in the mood to write. So, at the moment, I'm at home in my brothers' room, making use of his accommodations. I think he wants to usurp his workstation soon, so... whatever. Nope, never mind, he just went to the library.
I'll talk about Pascha, mmm k? Just recently I attended my first Orthodox Pascha service. Let's see if I can describe it accurately without making an idiot out of myself... Pascha is Easter for Orthodox Christians, and I THINK that it actually means 'passover', which I think... if I'm not completely clueless... is named thusly because the Old Testament passover was some kind of precursor. Or something... anyway, it actually begins by kicking off Holy Week on Lazarus Saturday, which was April 11th this year, and lasts until the end of Bright Week, which was April 26th. That is if I'm not completely retarded. My first taste of it started during Holy Week, where Leah and I went to a few of the night services to get warmed up. I'm not even going to try to remember which services they were... liturgies, matins, vespers, or vigils... as I still have a hard time discerning the differences between all of them. Anyway, Pascha is the culmination of about 40 days of fasting. Lent, in other words. It is the celebration of the resurrection of Christ from the dead after He was crucified. From what I understand, it is the most revered and anticipated event in the Orthodox religion. When I stop to really think about it, I can understand why Pascha seems to be... well, how do I say it without being completely wrong... more important? ... than Christmas, or Nativity as it is referred to by Orthodox Christians. It is sad and joyous at the same time. I think it's the Orthodox celebration or event or holiday... I'm not quite sure how to refer to it... that MEANS the most.
What one is supposed to do is go the entire 40 days adhering to the fast, which mostly consists of cutting out meat, dairy, oil, and wine. There are certain days when wine and oil are allowed, and a very few days when it's ok to eat fish (my birthday, March 25th, is one of them... yay!), but mostly it's kind of like being vegan for 40 days. Well, I of course cheated quite a bit, but for the most part I think I did fairly well... with the fasting, anyway (there's more to Lent than just fasting, but I won't get into that. I'm not even supposed to be talking about my fasting experience, come to think of it... oh well).
So, I pretty much succeeded in cutting out MOST red meat from my diet. There were a few times when I ate some of the vile food at 7-Eleven (I work there), and when my grandmother died just recently in March, I went to my moms for a few days and ate some eggs and cheese and ham. All in all I'd say that I fasted correctly for a little under two thirds of the entire 40 day period.
So anyway, back to Pascha. Like I was saying, the end of the fast was approaching with the weekend. Gravewatch was also coming up, so Leah and I signed up for a couple of shifts. I've never done anything remotely like this, so I was intrigued and looking forward to it. Basically it's this... on Holy Saturday (I think), everybody takes an hour long shift standing next to Christs' tomb while reading Psalms. The idea is to have somebody there at the tomb, keeping a vigil, in case Christ decides to choose that specific Pascha to come back. My shift was at 2:00 am and Leah's was at 1:00 am. Leah and I decided to combine ours into a single two hour shift with both of us taking turns reading the Psalms. So, I set my alarm for 12:45 so I'd have time to get up, pick up Leah, and drive to the church. Thusly prepared, I kicked back to take a nap at about 11:00 pm. I was pretty sleepy (the week before was tiring, what with the night services combined with my work schedule) and, still dressed, I laid back and konked out pretty quickly. The next thing I knew, I woke up and it was 1:20 am.
ARRRGH!!! Why didn't my alarm go off?? I groped in the dark for my phone. I had set the alarm, I was SURE of it! I happened across it, flipped it open, and saw that Leah had called about 30 gazillion times. I checked the alarm settings... they were set correctly. So, What gives?? I checked the ringer settings. Wulp, that explains it... the ringer was turned off. I rolled my eyes, thumped myself on the ear, hopped out of bed and scrambled around in the dark for my shoes. After wasting about 45 seconds doing that, I located the presence of mind to turn on my bedside lamp. I was blind for about half a minute, and it was almost 1:22 am. I finally found my shoes and hurridly put them on. I started looking for my keys. I spent about one minute in my room throwing clothes all over the place, trying to uncover them. I gave up and pretty much ran into the living room, where I saw them lying on the coffee table. By then it was almost 1:25 am, and I was still not quite wide awake as I rushed out the front door which slammed shut behind me. Next I got the car door open and shut, this occurring within about a two second time frame, with me occupying the interim for just long enough to wind up safely ensconced within. I started her up and backed quickly and haphazardly out of the yard and onto Sena St. Gas pedal to the floor, I braked almost immediately and turned left on Gober. Gas and brake again, then straight across Scripture and onto Jago I went. I screamed past Leah's apartment complex, but I didn't bother to stop... I was sure that she hadn't overslept, and I fully expected to find her at the church, grave-watching and reading Psalms. Ok... right on Oak, pedal to the floor for about a quarter of a mile, BRAKE and then a quick right turn into the church parking lot. I swooped into a parking place and in one fluid motion I put it in park, turned off the ignition, doused the lights, opened the door, and before the door was shut and remotely locked with my handy remote control key chain, I was through the front door and in the book store. I saw Leah in the sanctuary, standing next to the tomb, with a bible opened in front of her on a stand. I slowed down and composed myself and walked in. When I opened the door, I could hear her, and was surprised that she was chanting the Psalms like a tonsured reader. She told me she'd be doing it like that, but it was still somewhat of a surprise. After a few seconds, she turned around and smiled, and I mouthed the words "I'm sorry!". Then I sat down and listened to her read.
After about 5 minutes, Leah stopped and approached me with some candles. She gave them to me and I put them in a candle stand by the tomb and lit them. Then she asked me if I wanted to take a turn. So, nervous and still a little out of breath, I got my chance to read. How do I describe the experience? I don't know... fun? No, not that, too whimsical of a description. Interesting? Definitely, but that doesn't do it justice. Relaxing? Hmmm... kind of. Looking back on it, I realize that with the candles providing an intimate kind of atmosphere while I stood there pretty much motionless except for turning the pages of the Psalm book and reading those Psalms in a kind of droning monotone (I didn't chant, I was too self conscious), the combination of environment, mood and actions must have put me into a trance-like state... kind of like when I used to hypnotize myself. Let me put it like this... Leah and I read the Psalms in 'shifts'. About 10 minutes after I arrived, Leah invited me to read, and I read. After just a few minutes of reading (or so it seemed to me), Leah offered to spell me for a bit and she took another shift. I sat and listened to her read, and It seemed like she read for about a half hour before she invited me to take over again. I read for what seemed like another 5 or 10 minutes, and then Leah read for what seemed like another half hour or more. It was at this time when Tikhon, who was scheduled at 3:00, showed up for his grave watch shift. What? thought I. He's very early... I wondered if he thought his shift was at 2:00 am instead of 3:00 am. Tikhon went forward and prostrated himself in front of the tomb. And now I must interrupt for a bit, because I suddenly just remembered this...
... that night was the first night for me to venerate anything. Veneration (this is my understanding by the way, without looking anything up or asking anybody anything, so I'm probably retarded) is when one pays respect to an icon or, in this case, the tomb of Christ, by either crossing yourself in front of it, bowing in front of it, prostrating yourself in front of it, kissing it, or a combination of all of those. So, shortly after I arrived at the church, Leah asked me if I wanted to venerate the tomb, as we had discussed it earlier. We stood together in front of the tomb, she close by my side for support, and we venerated the tomb together. We crossed ourselves and prostrated, twice, then we went forward to kiss the icon lying in the tomb, and then we crossed ourselves and prostrated one more time. There... I had crossed a thresh hold. I had been nervously dreading doing this for months, for what reason I was never quite sure, and I had finally done it! I wasn't sorry, I wasn't uncomfortable, and I didn't feel stupid. Huh... I guess I knew the reasons after all.
So...
... Tikhon approached the tomb to venerate it and Leah noticed him. When he was finished, she stood aside and Tikhon took her place and started reading. I thought this was all decidedly odd, as I had expected to be there for at least another hour, but maybe Leah was just tired. So, after we exited the church, I asked Leah why we were leaving so early. Of course, as it turned out, we weren't leaving early at all... it was 3:00 am. What had seemed like 5-10 minute shifts as I read turned out to be 30-40 minutes each. Time didn't just seem to go by faster, it FLEW by. I really was amazed that all that time had already passed... an hour and a half had only seemed like 30 minutes. Looking back, I'm sure now that the I had put myself into a light hypnotic state. The low light, the flickering candles, the standing still, all while reading in a dull monotone was very conducive to this; it was a lot like meditation. Oh, and by the way, I discovered my favorite Psalm... Psalm 102, which is a poor man praying to God in desperation. The imagery is very moving... here's a link.
http://www.biblegateway.co
So, finally it's Pascha. Everybody is there at 11:30 pm on Saturday evening (technically it's Sunday because Orthodox Christians count it as tomorrow when the sun sets) and we all crowd in. The service starts, and the music is just phenomenally beautiful. Orthodox Christian services consist mainly of music, sung by a choir, with no instruments. When I first started attending services at St. Maximus The Confessor Orthodox Mission (that's the full name of the church), I was a little disconcerted that there was no piano or organ. After my first vigil however, I realized that we didn't need no stinkin' organ. The music at an Orthodox service is some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard, and it often moves me to tears. During the Pascha service that night, I had to struggle to keep the tears in check. What I heard that night was heart-breakingly, astoundingly, just flat out phenomenally beautiful. I saw other people wiping there eyes and the sound of sniffles was ubiquitous. I was wondering... is this it? Is this how it feels? Did it finally happen? Am I filled with the Holy Spirit? I didn't know and I still don't know, but at one point that night during the Pascha service, I was profoundly happy.
For the first half of the service, it's almost pitch black in the church. The only light comes from the choir so they can read their music. Then, at a designated time, everybody goes outside and marches around the church three times (symbolizing the three days that Christ lay in the tomb) while following Fr. Justin, Fr. Christopher, Dax and the altar boys as they carried something... it wasn't the entire tomb, we did that the night before. I believe it was an icon or that golden book which contained just the Gospels, both of which had been lying in the tomb. Anyway... so, after three processions around the church, something else happens that I'm not clear on. I think Fr. Justin knocks on the church door and says something, and somebody inside replies with something, and then we all go back in to find that all of the lights are turned on and the tomb has disappeared! Then the service turns into a joyous occasion, with Fr. Justin and Fr. Christopher blessing everything with the incense censers and crying, "Christ is risen!" with everybody replying "Indeed he is risen!" Then there is a lot of hugging and kissing and crying, which freaked me out at first, but then I just took some deep breaths and let it happen. And honestly, it wasn't so bad.
The whole thing lasted until almost 3:00 am, by which time I was about to fall out from weariness. However, I also felt kind of energized... it's a difficult feeling to describe. I was looking forward to breaking the fast, which is what everybody does after Lent and Pascha. So, once the service was finished, Fr. Justin blessed the food and then we all lined up and grabbed some beers and some brisket and everybody sat down to eat, drink and be merry. I had a little bit of brisket and some other various meat products, plus a Guinness, and Leah and I sat next to Fr. Justin and Matushka. It was imminently enjoyable, but we didn't stay long as we were both exhausted. So, after about 45 minutes we left church for our respective abodes. I got home, crawled into bed, and with my last waking thought that of looking forward to the afternoon picnic (there was a picnic planned for Pascha Sunday in the afternoon, after everybody had slept and recovered), I slept.
I woke up only about two hours after lying down with horrible stomach cramps. OWW!!! It hurt! I ran to the bathroom. I did some stuff in there that was awful and uncomfortable and gross, and then I went back to bed. Five minutes later and I was back in the bathroom, moving meat through intestines that hadn't experienced such for 40 days. I couldn't believe that I was actually having a negative reaction from fasting! Even though I was in severe pain and wanted to lose consciousness, I felt good at the same time because the pain was proof that I really had fasted, in a way. Not perfectly, but enough so that my intestines didn't know what meat was anymore. This went on for about two hours, and I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't be able to go to the Pascha picnic. I did get better though, and was in fair shape by 2:00. There was a vespers service at 3:00 before the picnic, and Leah's parents had flown in for the occasion, so we all went together. I was afraid to eat the meat, but it looked so damn good that I just piled it down onto the plate and took my chances. I am not lying or exaggerating one bit when I say that THAT food was the best tasting, most satisfying, most appealing meal I've EVER eaten. EVER. I'm sure it had something to do with depriving myself from the good stuff for so long, but I'm also wondering if there was more to it... you know, just 'more' than can be described by plain ole logic and what-not. Like, it tasted so good and it WAS so good due to the circumstances of Pascha. I'm sure that was a big part of it.
I've been attending services at St. Maximus off and on, mostly at night, since early January 2009... for about four months. My best friend Svetlana Leah introduced me to Orthodoxy, and I thank her profusely for her kind patience and personal sacrifice as I struggle with, witness, and embrace the ongoing process of my conversion to the Orthodox Christian Church.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Work and after work
Ok, where to start. A lot of this happened a few days ago... at work, of course. What else do I ever write about? So, like I said, it’s a few days ago and I’m at work, busy with a purpose, at the coffee bar - or The Trough, as Leah refers to it. As I’m slopping the pigs and cleaning up their considerable refuse, a full fledged Coffee Bar Emergency goes into effect. The little tray that sits under the cappuccino machine is full and needs emptying. This tray has no way to drain, so it just sits there and collects cappuccino backwash until it overflows and floods the local area (referred to forthwith as the coffee trough). Anyway, it’s filled to the brim and overflowing, so I pick it up very carefully so that I can take it over to the sink to safely dump it’s contents (there is no sink next to the coffee trough, which is a major pain in the ass). This is a very tedious process, because any slight movement to the left or right will cause the built up backwash to slosh accordingly. Once it starts sloshing, the process is self-reinforcing, which almost always results in the imminent formation of a tiny tidal wave of backwash. So, it’s important to ‘roll the feet’ in order to keep the sloshing at a minimum (the rolling of the feet is a method by which each foot moves smoothly from heel to toe, as if one’s feet were confined to the inside a hula hoop or bicycle tire. Anyone who has ever marched in high school band will know this method, to which Adela can also attest). I use this technique to great effect as I make my way to to the sink, and no self propagating tidal waves of backwash are created.
Anyway, after I empty the mini backwash trough, I’m wiping up the mess it made when I notice that there are little drips forming on the bottom edge of the coffee trough. I wipe these up deftly and thoroughly, but to my amazement and befuddlement, they remain unwiped. I bend down so I that I can examine them more closely. It only takes me a second to realize that little stalactites of coffee sugar are forming along the bottom edge of the coffee trough. There are several (about a dozen in all) and I run my hand along them, noting their smooth and unyielding surfaces. Amazing! I can imagine anthropologists digging up the site of this 7-Eleven in a few million years and discovering fully formed coffee stalactites, measuring several meters in length. I relate my discovery to Leah and Ben, who agree enthusiastically with my theory. Since that day, I’ve been thinking about writing a dissertation on it so I can get into graduate school.
Later that day, Leah presented me with what can only be described as a ‘rope of receipts’. In effect, it consisted of about 20 receipts which had been spit out consecutively by the receipt printer. They were all still attached at the corners because when they’re spit out, the machine doesn't cut them apart completely (the only reason I can think of for why the brand new receipt printer won't cut completely through each receipt is because whoever invented it must wanted to leave something for the cashier to do). So anyway. Leah then approached me and, to my utter joy, she gently draped this receipt chain around my neck. I proudly connected the two ends, transforming it into a bona fide necklace of 7-Eleven receipts. As several customers stood transfixed, watching with affectionate smiles as this touching scene unfolded, the one closest to us shouted unabashedly: “Hey, you just got lei'd!”
Earlier this week, I had noticed that my right front tire was getting low on air, and per my usual habit of procrastination, I promptly forgot about it. This caused me great worry and distress later when Leah was borrowing my car. I spent what seemed like an eternity imagining that tire popping and causing a horrific wreck, resulting in her severe injury or even death. It was pure torture. I was relieved beyond description when she survived unscathed. So anyway, guess what? The tire finally went completely flat the other day at work. Several people told me about it, so I a used a can of Fix-A-Flat to fix that flat after work. Now the flat’s fixed and I don’t have to worry about Leah dying horribly anymore.
Let’s see, what next... oh yes. Yesterday was an extremely good day, I've been told. As many of you know, I recently completed Ass. Management training at 7-Eleven and am due an imminent raise as a result. Terry, who had been taking his sweet time, apparently had finally gotten around to handing my paperwork over to his boss Buno, as I was duly informed that I would be receiving a raise of one dollar an hour. He qualified this by telling me ‘not to get my hopes up’. Well, I certainly got my hopes up, only to have them dashed by Ryan today. So there I was, hopes all up and everything, and I told Ryan what Terry had told me about my dollar an hour raise. Instead of replying with an envious congratulations, Ryan instead told me that I was getting jiped. He said that his brother-in-law had been making $11.50 an hour when he was an assistant manager, and that his sister had made $14.00 an hour at one point doing the same job. I did a quick mental calculation: at my present rate of $8.70 an hour, a dollar an hour raise would move me up to $9.70 an hour. Not even 10 dollars an hour... wait though, I thought to myself, that doesn’t include the performance review raise which I am also due. I breathed a sigh of relief and then asked Ryan when he thought we could expect that particular raise. He told me that we should be getting it soon; either by the end of February or sometime in early March. I asked him how much I could probably expect, imagining an optimistic 70 cents; the same as my last raise. With a 70 cent raise, stacked on top of a dollar an hour raise, I would be making about $10.50 an hour. Not so bad. So, Ryan then said that his last performance review raise was only about 20 cents. Mother F’er. Ok, so I wouldn’t let it get me down, I'll still be getting a fairly large raise.
I received another tidbit of good news yesterday. NCO, the collection agency which handles my student loans, told me that I would be out of default soon. I called them today and it was explained to me that I would only be owing one more payment, after which I would be finished with the initial phase of my payment program. Apparently, my loan is to be sold to another company, who I will continue payments with after March, at which time my loans will then be officially out of default and taken off of my credit report. This means that if I want to, I could actually apply for loans now and get them in time to start school this fall. I haven’t decided what I want to do, but this is f’ing-A news. Yee Haw!
Oh yeah. Last night, Leah and I decided to get our ears pierced. We went to a place called Ace Tattoos and Piercings and after an interminable wait, during which time I attempted to talk Leah out of it (yeah, I’m a wimp. Oh, and I also have a needle phobia. But hell, I’ve gotten my ears pierced several times before... however, this time was going to be different). She would not be budged, so we both got cartilage piercings at the tops of our left ears. I'd heard before that cartilage piercings were extremely painful, and I watched intently as Leah was getting hers pierced. However, I purposefully didn’t look at the needle as it went in, so I had no idea what kind of needle it was or how big (seeing that might have resulted in me up-chucking a lot of gross 7-Eleven food all over the floor of Aces Tattoos and Piercings). So, the chick who worked there... Dorian, I think... sat Leah down on the couch and drew a spot on her ear where she was going to put the needle through. Leah said that she flinched (I didn’t notice) when she did this, thinking that the tip of the marker was the needle. When the spot for the piercing was approved, Dorian asked Leah if she wanted a countdown. Leah replied in the negative, and then her ear was promptly pierced and a hoop was inserted. Again, I didn’t see her flinch, so my confidence grew. I was next, and as I sat up on the couch, I balled my hands into tight fists on my lap. Dorian went through the same process with me, and I approved the piercing site, just like Leah. I too was asked if I preferred a countdown, but for some reason, having it said to me made me quite nervous. Why would they ask if I wanted a countdown, unless the pain was interminably severe? I imagined a white hot poker being shoved through my cartilage and I stared straight ahead, not blinking, and waited. SHNICK! The needle went through. It hurt, but not that bad. Then the hoop was shoved in. That hurt a little more. Then we were finished. At this point, Dorian asked if I was ok. I replied that I was, and she said she was concerned because I hadn’t blinked during the entire several minutes that I was seated on the piercing couch. Apparently, this is a reaction she is used to, and I’m thinking that it represents extreme petrification with fear in the one at the business end of the needle. So, Leah and I got out of there, giddy with our new ear piercings, and we are now proudly attached at the ears.
Anyway, after I empty the mini backwash trough, I’m wiping up the mess it made when I notice that there are little drips forming on the bottom edge of the coffee trough. I wipe these up deftly and thoroughly, but to my amazement and befuddlement, they remain unwiped. I bend down so I that I can examine them more closely. It only takes me a second to realize that little stalactites of coffee sugar are forming along the bottom edge of the coffee trough. There are several (about a dozen in all) and I run my hand along them, noting their smooth and unyielding surfaces. Amazing! I can imagine anthropologists digging up the site of this 7-Eleven in a few million years and discovering fully formed coffee stalactites, measuring several meters in length. I relate my discovery to Leah and Ben, who agree enthusiastically with my theory. Since that day, I’ve been thinking about writing a dissertation on it so I can get into graduate school.
Later that day, Leah presented me with what can only be described as a ‘rope of receipts’. In effect, it consisted of about 20 receipts which had been spit out consecutively by the receipt printer. They were all still attached at the corners because when they’re spit out, the machine doesn't cut them apart completely (the only reason I can think of for why the brand new receipt printer won't cut completely through each receipt is because whoever invented it must wanted to leave something for the cashier to do). So anyway. Leah then approached me and, to my utter joy, she gently draped this receipt chain around my neck. I proudly connected the two ends, transforming it into a bona fide necklace of 7-Eleven receipts. As several customers stood transfixed, watching with affectionate smiles as this touching scene unfolded, the one closest to us shouted unabashedly: “Hey, you just got lei'd!”
Earlier this week, I had noticed that my right front tire was getting low on air, and per my usual habit of procrastination, I promptly forgot about it. This caused me great worry and distress later when Leah was borrowing my car. I spent what seemed like an eternity imagining that tire popping and causing a horrific wreck, resulting in her severe injury or even death. It was pure torture. I was relieved beyond description when she survived unscathed. So anyway, guess what? The tire finally went completely flat the other day at work. Several people told me about it, so I a used a can of Fix-A-Flat to fix that flat after work. Now the flat’s fixed and I don’t have to worry about Leah dying horribly anymore.
Let’s see, what next... oh yes. Yesterday was an extremely good day, I've been told. As many of you know, I recently completed Ass. Management training at 7-Eleven and am due an imminent raise as a result. Terry, who had been taking his sweet time, apparently had finally gotten around to handing my paperwork over to his boss Buno, as I was duly informed that I would be receiving a raise of one dollar an hour. He qualified this by telling me ‘not to get my hopes up’. Well, I certainly got my hopes up, only to have them dashed by Ryan today. So there I was, hopes all up and everything, and I told Ryan what Terry had told me about my dollar an hour raise. Instead of replying with an envious congratulations, Ryan instead told me that I was getting jiped. He said that his brother-in-law had been making $11.50 an hour when he was an assistant manager, and that his sister had made $14.00 an hour at one point doing the same job. I did a quick mental calculation: at my present rate of $8.70 an hour, a dollar an hour raise would move me up to $9.70 an hour. Not even 10 dollars an hour... wait though, I thought to myself, that doesn’t include the performance review raise which I am also due. I breathed a sigh of relief and then asked Ryan when he thought we could expect that particular raise. He told me that we should be getting it soon; either by the end of February or sometime in early March. I asked him how much I could probably expect, imagining an optimistic 70 cents; the same as my last raise. With a 70 cent raise, stacked on top of a dollar an hour raise, I would be making about $10.50 an hour. Not so bad. So, Ryan then said that his last performance review raise was only about 20 cents. Mother F’er. Ok, so I wouldn’t let it get me down, I'll still be getting a fairly large raise.
I received another tidbit of good news yesterday. NCO, the collection agency which handles my student loans, told me that I would be out of default soon. I called them today and it was explained to me that I would only be owing one more payment, after which I would be finished with the initial phase of my payment program. Apparently, my loan is to be sold to another company, who I will continue payments with after March, at which time my loans will then be officially out of default and taken off of my credit report. This means that if I want to, I could actually apply for loans now and get them in time to start school this fall. I haven’t decided what I want to do, but this is f’ing-A news. Yee Haw!
Oh yeah. Last night, Leah and I decided to get our ears pierced. We went to a place called Ace Tattoos and Piercings and after an interminable wait, during which time I attempted to talk Leah out of it (yeah, I’m a wimp. Oh, and I also have a needle phobia. But hell, I’ve gotten my ears pierced several times before... however, this time was going to be different). She would not be budged, so we both got cartilage piercings at the tops of our left ears. I'd heard before that cartilage piercings were extremely painful, and I watched intently as Leah was getting hers pierced. However, I purposefully didn’t look at the needle as it went in, so I had no idea what kind of needle it was or how big (seeing that might have resulted in me up-chucking a lot of gross 7-Eleven food all over the floor of Aces Tattoos and Piercings). So, the chick who worked there... Dorian, I think... sat Leah down on the couch and drew a spot on her ear where she was going to put the needle through. Leah said that she flinched (I didn’t notice) when she did this, thinking that the tip of the marker was the needle. When the spot for the piercing was approved, Dorian asked Leah if she wanted a countdown. Leah replied in the negative, and then her ear was promptly pierced and a hoop was inserted. Again, I didn’t see her flinch, so my confidence grew. I was next, and as I sat up on the couch, I balled my hands into tight fists on my lap. Dorian went through the same process with me, and I approved the piercing site, just like Leah. I too was asked if I preferred a countdown, but for some reason, having it said to me made me quite nervous. Why would they ask if I wanted a countdown, unless the pain was interminably severe? I imagined a white hot poker being shoved through my cartilage and I stared straight ahead, not blinking, and waited. SHNICK! The needle went through. It hurt, but not that bad. Then the hoop was shoved in. That hurt a little more. Then we were finished. At this point, Dorian asked if I was ok. I replied that I was, and she said she was concerned because I hadn’t blinked during the entire several minutes that I was seated on the piercing couch. Apparently, this is a reaction she is used to, and I’m thinking that it represents extreme petrification with fear in the one at the business end of the needle. So, Leah and I got out of there, giddy with our new ear piercings, and we are now proudly attached at the ears.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Weirdly things that happened today
First off, early this morning, a guy just couldn't wait to wrap his lips around the chocolate milk he hadn't paid for yet. So, Mr. Chocolate Mustache brings his milk to the counter to pay for it. He hands it to me and I tilt it over, as I'm wont to do with every single product before scanning, to scan it. This is so that the mounted scanner, which points down, can read the bar code. So, the top goes 'fling', then the milk goes WHOOSH, all over the counter, like a mini-ROGUE WAVE. MY EYES bugged out. I looked at the guy. After my eyes settled, I narrowed them. The guy stammered a little. I picked up the spilled bottle between my thumb and forefinger, like an indignant butler. I stalked over to the sink counter, emptied it into the sink, put it down to be written off later, and grabbed some paper towels. I solemnly wiped up the milk. Some of it had leaked underneath the glass window thing which makes the counter transparent so that the customers can drool over the lottery scratch off tickets. I examined this uncleanable bit of milk with obvious distaste and then informed the customer in a very professional, polite, no-nonsense tone that he could go get another bottle of milk. He scurried off like a scolded child and got another one. When he got back to the counter, I wiped it again a couple more times for good measure. Then I finished ringing him up.
Later, when I was ordering more milk to replace that which was so blatantly and carelessly wasted earlier, Land O Lakes Half & Half creamer came up for order. However, it was abbreviated. It read: LOL H&HA. I thought this was hilarious.
Around midday, a customer was at Adela's register. Another customer said this:
"Hey, are you going to class?"
To which the guy at the register replied:
"Yeah, in a few minutes."
She said:
"Are you late?"
At this point their conversation drifted off into banal background chatter and I tuned it out. Until about five minutes later. Then I heard and saw this:
The girl was glaring at the guy, who was standing at the door with it half open, looking back at the girl. She said:
"I don't like you. I don't like talking to you."
The guy then promptly left without another word. Damn, what did I miss? Damn damn damn. There went some good gossip.
One more thing. Earlier this week, Blue Slurpee was leaking from the ceiling. I missed out on this fun and only saw the after-carnage, which was a lot of blue spatter-sticks all over the microwave, and some blue gunk gathered around the base of the Slurpee machine. Then I get to work today and Pina Colada Slurpee has leaked all over the floor and is flowing out from under the machine. Adela created a Paper Towel Barrier which effectively blocked the slow flowing, viscous liquid. It reminded me of blood when I stepped in it. Clear, but the same consistency. Not that I've ever stepped in a pool of blood, but that's what it reminded me of, anyway. Anyway, the Slurpee guy showed up and got all up in the ceiling to fix it (apparently this leak originated in the ceiling too). When he got down, he said there was 'rat feces' all up in there. So, 7-Eleven is infested with rats. Nice.
Later, when I was ordering more milk to replace that which was so blatantly and carelessly wasted earlier, Land O Lakes Half & Half creamer came up for order. However, it was abbreviated. It read: LOL H&HA. I thought this was hilarious.
Around midday, a customer was at Adela's register. Another customer said this:
"Hey, are you going to class?"
To which the guy at the register replied:
"Yeah, in a few minutes."
She said:
"Are you late?"
At this point their conversation drifted off into banal background chatter and I tuned it out. Until about five minutes later. Then I heard and saw this:
The girl was glaring at the guy, who was standing at the door with it half open, looking back at the girl. She said:
"I don't like you. I don't like talking to you."
The guy then promptly left without another word. Damn, what did I miss? Damn damn damn. There went some good gossip.
One more thing. Earlier this week, Blue Slurpee was leaking from the ceiling. I missed out on this fun and only saw the after-carnage, which was a lot of blue spatter-sticks all over the microwave, and some blue gunk gathered around the base of the Slurpee machine. Then I get to work today and Pina Colada Slurpee has leaked all over the floor and is flowing out from under the machine. Adela created a Paper Towel Barrier which effectively blocked the slow flowing, viscous liquid. It reminded me of blood when I stepped in it. Clear, but the same consistency. Not that I've ever stepped in a pool of blood, but that's what it reminded me of, anyway. Anyway, the Slurpee guy showed up and got all up in the ceiling to fix it (apparently this leak originated in the ceiling too). When he got down, he said there was 'rat feces' all up in there. So, 7-Eleven is infested with rats. Nice.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
My bad ass 'stache
Today at work I'm standing outside, smoking a cigarette and trying to look cool. Apparently it's not that hard to do because somebody came up to me and commented on my magnificent 'stache. He said that I had a Sam Elliot thing going on and asked if I was going to 'train it'. I assumed he meant 'wax it' so that it grew handlebars or something. So I told him, no, I just thought I'd let it grow until it stopped growing. He said that it would look cool if it grew out like Sam Elliot's in the movie 'Tombstone'. I told him that's why I grew it in the first place, because of that movie. Then as I was walking back into the store, he said "You look bad ass."
Ash wins +10 ego points.
Ash wins +10 ego points.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Things
Terry says that if a pot of decaf stays on the burner long enough, it will magically grow new caffeine.
The other day at work, somebody said "guess what's in my coat." "A cucumber?" "No..." and a little kitten popped it's head out and proceeded to climb up his arm and onto his shoulder.
The last time it was all physical and no love. Now it's the exact opposite. Both versions hurt but the difference is the black void. It's gone now.
Managing the ass at 7-Eleven isn't all it's cracked up to be. Which ass goes where, what to do with the extra ass, how much ass to kick. Then there's the bad ass, the fine ass, the dirty ass, the ass hats... I need to get paid more for this I think.
I just stepped on the scale and I'm down to 145, from 160 a month ago. Yee haw. Maybe this summer I'll be able to take off my shirt.
The other day my car was covered with a half inch of ice. And my big idea was to leave the key inside with it running, with the doors locked, and let the warmth build up and melt the ice. Well, that worked out real good, except that the automatic radio controlled buzzer button unlocking mechanism thing won't unlock the car if it's running, so in effect, my car was running and locked and I was standing outside freezing. There's a happy ending but I'd rather leave everybody breathless and in a state of panic.
I think I'm getting more lost as opposed to unlost. I do have one kick ass Wyatt Earp mustache though, so that's a comfort.
And even though she won't say it, I suspect that she loves me. A little bit anyway.
The other day at work, somebody said "guess what's in my coat." "A cucumber?" "No..." and a little kitten popped it's head out and proceeded to climb up his arm and onto his shoulder.
The last time it was all physical and no love. Now it's the exact opposite. Both versions hurt but the difference is the black void. It's gone now.
Managing the ass at 7-Eleven isn't all it's cracked up to be. Which ass goes where, what to do with the extra ass, how much ass to kick. Then there's the bad ass, the fine ass, the dirty ass, the ass hats... I need to get paid more for this I think.
I just stepped on the scale and I'm down to 145, from 160 a month ago. Yee haw. Maybe this summer I'll be able to take off my shirt.
The other day my car was covered with a half inch of ice. And my big idea was to leave the key inside with it running, with the doors locked, and let the warmth build up and melt the ice. Well, that worked out real good, except that the automatic radio controlled buzzer button unlocking mechanism thing won't unlock the car if it's running, so in effect, my car was running and locked and I was standing outside freezing. There's a happy ending but I'd rather leave everybody breathless and in a state of panic.
I think I'm getting more lost as opposed to unlost. I do have one kick ass Wyatt Earp mustache though, so that's a comfort.
And even though she won't say it, I suspect that she loves me. A little bit anyway.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The Really Big Box Of Contraband
We received a big box of stuff at work today. I mean a REALLY big box. We're talking HUGE! Big enough to crawl inside of and play Solid Snake. I opened it and it was full of contraband. The FBI showed up and locked the store down while ATF agents swarmed the place. It turned out the contraband consisted of parts to build a small thermonuclear device. Terry was hauled away in chains and Leah received the Congressional Medal of Honor. Then I finished fronting and facing the store.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Holy crap
I can't believe it. The dog I've had for a year and a half just uttered his first bark. A couple, actually. No, I think it was three definite barks. My first thought was, where the heck did that dog come from? Then I realized, I have a dog! But he never EVER barks! I went into my brothers room. He was napping and he too was amazed. I looked out the window and there was a decidedly mean looking girl standing out there. Oh, and there were also a couple of little terriers. I personally think he was barking at the mean looking girl with the scowl on her face though. Rooney hasn't ever barked at another dog, he usually runs from them.
Wow.
Wow.
I love your hair...
Today after work I stopped by Kroger for some sundries and whatnot. I'm walking towards the entrance and I hear, "You're cute." I stop and turn, and this young-ish cute-ish girl is standing there. "Uh... thanks." Pause a few seconds. "So are you." I'm turning red so I turn away quickly and start inside. Then I hear, "I love your hair!" I stop and turn again. "Thanks!" I hurry in. I feel kind of lame and good at the same time. Although that was somewhat embarrasing, a compliment from a stranger can really make your day.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Lip smacking good
This morning my favorite customer came in. He comes in every day and buys four newspapers and usually a bagel or donut, and sometimes he gives me lotto tickets to check. So, he gets to the counter and puts the papers down on the counter. Like he does every single day. With the barcodes facing down. Every single frikin day, and every single frikin day I turn every one of them over so I can scan the barcode. This has happened about... oh... 365 times, and he STILL puts the dadgum papers on the counter with the barcodes down. SO. Like I said, I turned them all over and scanned them and then turned them BACK over so he could have all of his papers right side up, which apparently is important to him. I ask him if he wants a bag. Then I hear something... SMACK. SMACK. SMACK SMACK SMACK... no, I think I can... SMACK SMACK... handle it... SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK. He is making disgusting smacking sounds as he chows down on that donut. It is disgusting. Didn't his mama teach him to chew with his mouth closed? UGH. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!!!!! GO AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyway. That's about it. I'm ok now.
Anyway. That's about it. I'm ok now.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Of meteors and mattresses...
The morning of the meteor shower finally arrived. After enjoying clear skies all week long, it decided to cloud up precisely during the hours of peak activity. At first I was distraught and frustrated.
In retrospect however, it didn't matter one whit. I and the person I was with enjoyed a couple of hours of each others company, lying in the middle of an open field, covered with blankets, and gazing up at a clouds describing a fast moving sky accented with a handful of intermittent stars. Every now and then we'd actually see a brief streak of light as a speck of space dust blazed across our small portion of unobscured sky. At one point, a low cloud bank brightened suddenly, as if it were being lit from within.
"Did you see that?"
"Yeah."
"I think it was a really bright one, obscured by the clouds."
"Wow."
"Yeah. It would have really been spectacular if we could have seen it."
It was spectacular anyway.
Time passed as it is wont to do, so eventually we had to gather up the blankets and pillows and get back to real life. I spent the entire day at work in a decidedly odd mood, which was good. Or rather, in a decidedly good mood, which was odd - for being at work, that is. Time flew by and I didn't mind work at all.
Before I knew it, I was walking home. I decided to take Bryan street on a whim, and discovered something which almost ruined my day.
About 3/4 or the way up Bryan street, before it runs into Scripture, there was a large dumpster which serviced an apartment complex. Around this dumpster were piled several large, overflowing trash bags. Lying among these bags was an assortment of abandoned dirty clothing, reams of carelessly scattered notes from some obsolete and already forgotten college class, cardboard boxes filled with plastic food wrappers, empty 7-Eleven coffee cups, a discarded Christmas wreath, and scores of cigarette butts. Underneath a goodly portion of all this was a queen sized mattress.
As I stood there regarding that scene, I was surprised to find that the sight of so much blatant refuse was pissing me off. I started to gather up some of the more readily accessible and less revolting bits of trash and stuffed them into the open garbage bags. Eventually I had to deal with the revolting stuff. After I had several bags crammed full and closed tightly, I tossed them into the dumpster. Then I went to work on the classroom notes. There had to have been at least 5 pounds of typed and hand written papers there, which would have been blown away if not for the fact that there had been so much trash covering them. They had started to blow away after a lot of the dead weight was removed, so I spent some time recovering scores of windblown sheets of paper and stuffing them into a cardboard box (the contents of which I had already emptied into the dumpster). Finally, I was left with just the old dirty clothes, which consisted mainly of socks, t-shirts, and some raggedy, torn up shoes. These too went into the dumpster. Finally, I threw away the Christmas wreath, which I had been saving for last in case I decided it could be salvaged. It couldn't, so into the dumpster it went. The only thing left was about a hundred cigarette butts. I gathered these up by the handful and tossed them, winding up with stinky, charcoal stained fingers.
Finally, after about 10 minutes of constant activity, the area around the dumpster was clear. The only thing left was that queen sized mattress. I inspected it closely. It actually didn't look that bad, and after testing it in a few places, it felt soft. I imagined that with a good cleaning, it would be a dramatic improvement over my current twin mattress, which is just a piece of shit, now that I think about it. If I weren't so used to it, it would be impossible to sleep on it, as the springs have no padding to separate them from the actual material which comprises the surface of the mattress. Every night, I lie down to the constant poking and pressing of those damn uncomfortable springs. No more.
I walked home and called my brother in law, who drives a pickup truck. I asked for his assistance in transporting the mattress to my house, and he agreed. Later we loaded it into the back of his truck, and at this moment it is leaning up against the wall in the hallway, waiting for me to clear a spot for it in the disaster area which is my room. I might even get to it tonight, although I don't think I have any queen sized sheets. It probably needs at least a cursory spiffing before I lay me down to sleep on it, so I think I'll wait until tomorrow to make it safe for human habitation.
Even if this queen sized mattress turns out to be a bust, I'm not going back to that mattress from hell that I've been enduring for 9 years, ever since my water bed sprung a leak.
In retrospect however, it didn't matter one whit. I and the person I was with enjoyed a couple of hours of each others company, lying in the middle of an open field, covered with blankets, and gazing up at a clouds describing a fast moving sky accented with a handful of intermittent stars. Every now and then we'd actually see a brief streak of light as a speck of space dust blazed across our small portion of unobscured sky. At one point, a low cloud bank brightened suddenly, as if it were being lit from within.
"Did you see that?"
"Yeah."
"I think it was a really bright one, obscured by the clouds."
"Wow."
"Yeah. It would have really been spectacular if we could have seen it."
It was spectacular anyway.
Time passed as it is wont to do, so eventually we had to gather up the blankets and pillows and get back to real life. I spent the entire day at work in a decidedly odd mood, which was good. Or rather, in a decidedly good mood, which was odd - for being at work, that is. Time flew by and I didn't mind work at all.
Before I knew it, I was walking home. I decided to take Bryan street on a whim, and discovered something which almost ruined my day.
About 3/4 or the way up Bryan street, before it runs into Scripture, there was a large dumpster which serviced an apartment complex. Around this dumpster were piled several large, overflowing trash bags. Lying among these bags was an assortment of abandoned dirty clothing, reams of carelessly scattered notes from some obsolete and already forgotten college class, cardboard boxes filled with plastic food wrappers, empty 7-Eleven coffee cups, a discarded Christmas wreath, and scores of cigarette butts. Underneath a goodly portion of all this was a queen sized mattress.
As I stood there regarding that scene, I was surprised to find that the sight of so much blatant refuse was pissing me off. I started to gather up some of the more readily accessible and less revolting bits of trash and stuffed them into the open garbage bags. Eventually I had to deal with the revolting stuff. After I had several bags crammed full and closed tightly, I tossed them into the dumpster. Then I went to work on the classroom notes. There had to have been at least 5 pounds of typed and hand written papers there, which would have been blown away if not for the fact that there had been so much trash covering them. They had started to blow away after a lot of the dead weight was removed, so I spent some time recovering scores of windblown sheets of paper and stuffing them into a cardboard box (the contents of which I had already emptied into the dumpster). Finally, I was left with just the old dirty clothes, which consisted mainly of socks, t-shirts, and some raggedy, torn up shoes. These too went into the dumpster. Finally, I threw away the Christmas wreath, which I had been saving for last in case I decided it could be salvaged. It couldn't, so into the dumpster it went. The only thing left was about a hundred cigarette butts. I gathered these up by the handful and tossed them, winding up with stinky, charcoal stained fingers.
Finally, after about 10 minutes of constant activity, the area around the dumpster was clear. The only thing left was that queen sized mattress. I inspected it closely. It actually didn't look that bad, and after testing it in a few places, it felt soft. I imagined that with a good cleaning, it would be a dramatic improvement over my current twin mattress, which is just a piece of shit, now that I think about it. If I weren't so used to it, it would be impossible to sleep on it, as the springs have no padding to separate them from the actual material which comprises the surface of the mattress. Every night, I lie down to the constant poking and pressing of those damn uncomfortable springs. No more.
I walked home and called my brother in law, who drives a pickup truck. I asked for his assistance in transporting the mattress to my house, and he agreed. Later we loaded it into the back of his truck, and at this moment it is leaning up against the wall in the hallway, waiting for me to clear a spot for it in the disaster area which is my room. I might even get to it tonight, although I don't think I have any queen sized sheets. It probably needs at least a cursory spiffing before I lay me down to sleep on it, so I think I'll wait until tomorrow to make it safe for human habitation.
Even if this queen sized mattress turns out to be a bust, I'm not going back to that mattress from hell that I've been enduring for 9 years, ever since my water bed sprung a leak.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
A dream - sunset holocaust
Matt and Chey and I are all piled into a car together, with Cheyenne driving and I in the back seat. We pull into the driveway of a familiar house. We all get out of the car and I am slightly anxious because we forgot to bring something with us. It is twilight, and the eastern sky beyond the house is made darker by the presence of forbidding cumulonimbus clouds, the textured, corrugated bottoms of which provide a low, ominous ceiling. Although they are ubiquitous to a certain extent, they start to thin and break up as my gaze follows them across the sky towards the west. About 2/3 of the way to the horizon they disintegrate completely, leaving a clear, calm sunset. The sun, having just disappeared below the western horizon, leaves a bright yellow sky which fades slowly into the dark blue of near twilight before it is obscured by the blanket of clouds from the east. I turn my vision back towards the dark cloud cover and am amazed to see in the distance an immense UFO flying below the cloud deck. It is quite far away, but I can definitely discern a massive hull festooned with bright, multicolored flashing lights. Matt is just getting out of the car so I yell at him, "Reach back into the car and grab the binoculars, quickly, hurry up!" I point at the sky and exclaim to him, "It's a UFO! Give me the binoculars!" Matt digs around in the back seat and emerges with the binoculars in hand. He sweeps the sky futilely with them, which exasperates me, and I frantically urge him to hand them over. He does, and I proceed to scan the eastern sky. Almost immediately, I spot it. It is an amazing sight, made even more incredible by the sudden ignition of two engines mounted at the rear of the main body, which begin to glow a dull orange. I exclaim to Matt, "The engines are lighting! It'll be gone soon so hurry up and look!" I hold the binoculars slightly away from my eyes with one hand and with the other hand I point as directly and accurately as I can at the UFO, while at the same time passing the binoculars to Matt so that he will know exactly in what direction to look. He sees the UFO but doesn't seem nearly as thrilled as me, and he and Chey proceed into the house.
An old man and woman live in the house, and at this point I realize that we are visiting a kind of analogue for our grandparents. I don't recognize them but they still seem familiar as I greet them in the living room. However, I am still filled with excitement at what I had just witnessed, so I quietly steal back outside. Heavy clouds had begun to form in the western sky, and as I looked towards the sunset, I could barely make out the diminished shape of the UFO against the form of a thunderhead as it reflected the last of the sun's dying rays. Suddenly, I realized with dread and unwelcome comprehension that it was engaged in battle with an enemy vessel, and they were exchanging a volley of nuclear weapons. I hid my eyes as one of them detonated, and when I looked again, there was a towering mushroom cloud rising from the western horizon. I quickly hurried inside and warned everyone. "There has been a nuclear detonation and the shock wave will be here quickly. We have to seek shelter!" Matt, Chey and I, along with the old couple, quickly proceeded outside and towards a separate garage. I watched the mushroom cloud as I hurried across the yard towards the garage, and I could feel the air pressure building as the front of the shock wave quickly raced towards us. With all of us inside the garage, we hunkered down on our knees, clasped our hands behind our heads, and tried to roll ourselves into little balls. Then the shock wave hit and the garage shook violently around us, shattering the glass in the windows and shaking the door off of the frame. As I crouched there, hunkered, I tried to catch a glimpse of Matt and Chey to see if they were all right. With the door gone, I could see the grass and trees outside through the open doorway scorching in the intense heat. I expected the garage to come completely apart around us at any second, exposing us to the searing winds.
An old man and woman live in the house, and at this point I realize that we are visiting a kind of analogue for our grandparents. I don't recognize them but they still seem familiar as I greet them in the living room. However, I am still filled with excitement at what I had just witnessed, so I quietly steal back outside. Heavy clouds had begun to form in the western sky, and as I looked towards the sunset, I could barely make out the diminished shape of the UFO against the form of a thunderhead as it reflected the last of the sun's dying rays. Suddenly, I realized with dread and unwelcome comprehension that it was engaged in battle with an enemy vessel, and they were exchanging a volley of nuclear weapons. I hid my eyes as one of them detonated, and when I looked again, there was a towering mushroom cloud rising from the western horizon. I quickly hurried inside and warned everyone. "There has been a nuclear detonation and the shock wave will be here quickly. We have to seek shelter!" Matt, Chey and I, along with the old couple, quickly proceeded outside and towards a separate garage. I watched the mushroom cloud as I hurried across the yard towards the garage, and I could feel the air pressure building as the front of the shock wave quickly raced towards us. With all of us inside the garage, we hunkered down on our knees, clasped our hands behind our heads, and tried to roll ourselves into little balls. Then the shock wave hit and the garage shook violently around us, shattering the glass in the windows and shaking the door off of the frame. As I crouched there, hunkered, I tried to catch a glimpse of Matt and Chey to see if they were all right. With the door gone, I could see the grass and trees outside through the open doorway scorching in the intense heat. I expected the garage to come completely apart around us at any second, exposing us to the searing winds.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Evil Blood Sucking Car Repair Shops
Oh boy. Today as I was driving to the store to grab some smokes, I started to hear a distinctive rattle up front in the motor area. Not good, thought I. I drove home and let it idle for a while, listening to the rattle and clank. I finally shut off the motor, definitely not happy about this new development. Later, my brother took the car to the post office to mail off his laptop which he just sold on eBay. I heard the car pull up when he got back, and then I heard the sound of the motor increase in volume somewhat as my brother opened the hood. After a few seconds, I heard a SNAP POP. Uh oh. Seconds later, my brother came in and informed me that the serpentine belt had just snapped. Shit. He said that he was afraid to kill the engine because he wasn't sure if it would start again. I told him that he'd better kill it now, as it was running purely on battery power as long as the serpentine belt wasn't turning the alternator and charging the battery. Apparently he hadn't realized this immediately, so he went outside and killed it.
We debated on what to do for a few minutes, and then he suggested that we take it to a repair shop to get an estimate. I thought for a few minutes... a serpentine belt should only cost about 30 bucks, and it should take maybe an hour to effect repairs... at about 50 dollars an hour, it should cost less than a hundred bucks to fix it. So, I agreed, and he drove the car to Firestone using just the battery power.
About 30 minutes later, he arrived home after walking back from Firestone. He told me that the mechanic there had said that it might be something more serious than just the serpentine belt, that the rattling could be due to a loose pulley. Immediately my hackles went up. I've been fucked over by mechanics several times, and hearing this instantly put my on my guard. I warned my brother about this, that mechanics were devious bastards and that I'd been screwed over several times in the past, but he just kind of blew it off. I stressed again the importance of what I was saying, and that we should definitely be wary if they tried to quote us an estimate based on more than just the cost to replace the belt. He started to take offense to this, thinking that I was questioning his ability to handle the situation, and began raising his voice. I asked him why he was getting so pissed and defensive, and he said that he'd never been screwed over by a garage. I told him that just because he hasn't been screwed over doesn't negate the importance or the worthiness of my advice. He grew more and more angry, and finally he told me that he wanted to use the money I had in reserve for rent to pay for any repairs that might be needed. I told him no. I have 200 dollars specifically for rent that I had borrowed from my sister just the day before, and that plus about 500 dollars that I'll be getting on Thursday, is going to be JUST ENOUGH to pay my student loan payment plus my share of the rent. Well, he didn't take too kindly to my refusal to give him that money, and he asked me if I was afraid that the rent wouldn't get paid if I gave him that money. I told him yeah, that's what I was afraid of, and he said that he would make damn sure that the rent got paid, even if I didn't.
Well, that really pissed me off, since I was the one who paid the rent for December, with no help at all from him. I told him that if it weren't for me, the rent wouldn't have gotten paid this month, and that he should think about that before casting stones. Well, about 5 minutes later, he called me on 32 dollars that we still owed out of 650, that never got paid because I just happened to be a little bit short, what with having to pay the entire thing this month. I had told him that I would pay it when I got my next check, but I had forgotten. He called me a liar for saying that I would pay that 32 dollars, since I had forgotten and it was never paid. Well, this set me off like a hydrogen bomb. I grabbed an envelope and a pen and the address for the landlord and got on the computer and looked up directions to his house with MapQuest, which happened to be two miles there and two miles back. I wrote those down, and as I was going out the door, I said "You suck Matt, you really suck. I'm not a liar and I'm moving out. Just as soon as I can. We'll see how you manage when I'm not here to bail your ass out when you're broke." Then he said to me, "You're moving out, huh? That's probably a damn lie too." I got even madder, which I didn't think was possible. I said, "I hate you!" and stormed out the door. I then turned back around and said "Give me my phone!". I sure as hell didn't want him answering when Firestone called back with an estimate. He gave me my phone and I left.
On the way I stopped off at a convenience store and got a money order for 32 dollars and put this in the envelope, and wrote on the front: "Sorry so late, Matt and Ash" and wrote down our address. I continued walking until I got to his house, then I put the envelope in his mailbox and walked back. On my way back, I received a call from Firestone. They said they had an estimate, and that it would be 350 bucks to fix it. I said, 350 for a serpentine belt? They said no, not just the belt, the tensioner needs to be replaced too (the tensioner is another pulley which you can adjust to increase or decrease the tension on the belt, something I didn't know at the time). I asked the guy if he could just put on the belt and forget about the tensioner. He said no. So, I told him that I'd come pick up the car then. He was silent for a few seconds, then said something that I don't remember and I said thanks, bye, and hung up. After that, I called John, my sisters husband, who is pretty good with cars. I asked him if he could help me replace the serpentine belt, and he said sure, that it should be fairly simple and easy.
When I got home, Matt had already gone back to Firestone and picked up the car. I didn't say anything to him. He told me that it would cost 270 dollars to repair it. Well, I was still pretty pissed and didn't want to talk to him, but I had to laugh and tell him that they had quoted 350 to me. Then I started to research serpentine belts and tensioners online for my car. I came across a lot of useful info, such as a diagram showing how to install the belt (it's pretty convoluted) and reports from various people describing their own experiences. I quickly found out that tensioners can be adjusted with a 13 mm socket, and that they can get pretty loose. I went back out to the car and found the tensioner, and sure enough, it was loose and it rattled when I moved it. Well, I sure as hell wasn't going to trust what Firestone said. That tensioner just might need to be tightened, it might not need to be replaced at all. However, it looked to be a pretty big job, as it was a very tight squeeze to access the area where the belt goes onto the pulley's. I had just read about several frustrated people who had spent hours trying to install a serpentine belt to no avail, and I started to realize it might not be possible for me to pull it off, even with Johns help.
So I called John and explained the situation to him, telling him that I thought it might be too big of a job for us to do after all, and that I would just have to wait until I had enough money to pay the fucking Firestone guys to fix it. He said to hold off, that he would be over to check it out. I had plans to visit a friend tonight already, so while I was over at her place, John was at the house, checking out the car.
When I got back home, Matt said that they had looked at the car and researched it some more. What we need is a serpentine kit that costs about 80 bucks, and comes with a belt and the tools we'll need to be able to fix the tensioner and install the new belt. This sounded a lot more reasonable than the 350 they quoted me or the 270 they quoted my brother, once they realized I wasn't going to let them give it to me in the backside. So with 80 dollars for parts and 50 dollars an hour... lets be generous and say it takes two hours to fix it... Firestone should charge me 200 dollars MAXIMUM for parts, labor, and tax to fix that thing. So I was right, they were trying to screw us over, just like ALL mechanics and garages will do in the blink of an eye without thinking twice. I've just had too damn many experiences, several times getting ripped off, and several times ALMOST getting ripped off - like today - NOT to be wary of those fuckers. Repair shops are worse than the IRS. At least the IRS doesn't lie to you.
We debated on what to do for a few minutes, and then he suggested that we take it to a repair shop to get an estimate. I thought for a few minutes... a serpentine belt should only cost about 30 bucks, and it should take maybe an hour to effect repairs... at about 50 dollars an hour, it should cost less than a hundred bucks to fix it. So, I agreed, and he drove the car to Firestone using just the battery power.
About 30 minutes later, he arrived home after walking back from Firestone. He told me that the mechanic there had said that it might be something more serious than just the serpentine belt, that the rattling could be due to a loose pulley. Immediately my hackles went up. I've been fucked over by mechanics several times, and hearing this instantly put my on my guard. I warned my brother about this, that mechanics were devious bastards and that I'd been screwed over several times in the past, but he just kind of blew it off. I stressed again the importance of what I was saying, and that we should definitely be wary if they tried to quote us an estimate based on more than just the cost to replace the belt. He started to take offense to this, thinking that I was questioning his ability to handle the situation, and began raising his voice. I asked him why he was getting so pissed and defensive, and he said that he'd never been screwed over by a garage. I told him that just because he hasn't been screwed over doesn't negate the importance or the worthiness of my advice. He grew more and more angry, and finally he told me that he wanted to use the money I had in reserve for rent to pay for any repairs that might be needed. I told him no. I have 200 dollars specifically for rent that I had borrowed from my sister just the day before, and that plus about 500 dollars that I'll be getting on Thursday, is going to be JUST ENOUGH to pay my student loan payment plus my share of the rent. Well, he didn't take too kindly to my refusal to give him that money, and he asked me if I was afraid that the rent wouldn't get paid if I gave him that money. I told him yeah, that's what I was afraid of, and he said that he would make damn sure that the rent got paid, even if I didn't.
Well, that really pissed me off, since I was the one who paid the rent for December, with no help at all from him. I told him that if it weren't for me, the rent wouldn't have gotten paid this month, and that he should think about that before casting stones. Well, about 5 minutes later, he called me on 32 dollars that we still owed out of 650, that never got paid because I just happened to be a little bit short, what with having to pay the entire thing this month. I had told him that I would pay it when I got my next check, but I had forgotten. He called me a liar for saying that I would pay that 32 dollars, since I had forgotten and it was never paid. Well, this set me off like a hydrogen bomb. I grabbed an envelope and a pen and the address for the landlord and got on the computer and looked up directions to his house with MapQuest, which happened to be two miles there and two miles back. I wrote those down, and as I was going out the door, I said "You suck Matt, you really suck. I'm not a liar and I'm moving out. Just as soon as I can. We'll see how you manage when I'm not here to bail your ass out when you're broke." Then he said to me, "You're moving out, huh? That's probably a damn lie too." I got even madder, which I didn't think was possible. I said, "I hate you!" and stormed out the door. I then turned back around and said "Give me my phone!". I sure as hell didn't want him answering when Firestone called back with an estimate. He gave me my phone and I left.
On the way I stopped off at a convenience store and got a money order for 32 dollars and put this in the envelope, and wrote on the front: "Sorry so late, Matt and Ash" and wrote down our address. I continued walking until I got to his house, then I put the envelope in his mailbox and walked back. On my way back, I received a call from Firestone. They said they had an estimate, and that it would be 350 bucks to fix it. I said, 350 for a serpentine belt? They said no, not just the belt, the tensioner needs to be replaced too (the tensioner is another pulley which you can adjust to increase or decrease the tension on the belt, something I didn't know at the time). I asked the guy if he could just put on the belt and forget about the tensioner. He said no. So, I told him that I'd come pick up the car then. He was silent for a few seconds, then said something that I don't remember and I said thanks, bye, and hung up. After that, I called John, my sisters husband, who is pretty good with cars. I asked him if he could help me replace the serpentine belt, and he said sure, that it should be fairly simple and easy.
When I got home, Matt had already gone back to Firestone and picked up the car. I didn't say anything to him. He told me that it would cost 270 dollars to repair it. Well, I was still pretty pissed and didn't want to talk to him, but I had to laugh and tell him that they had quoted 350 to me. Then I started to research serpentine belts and tensioners online for my car. I came across a lot of useful info, such as a diagram showing how to install the belt (it's pretty convoluted) and reports from various people describing their own experiences. I quickly found out that tensioners can be adjusted with a 13 mm socket, and that they can get pretty loose. I went back out to the car and found the tensioner, and sure enough, it was loose and it rattled when I moved it. Well, I sure as hell wasn't going to trust what Firestone said. That tensioner just might need to be tightened, it might not need to be replaced at all. However, it looked to be a pretty big job, as it was a very tight squeeze to access the area where the belt goes onto the pulley's. I had just read about several frustrated people who had spent hours trying to install a serpentine belt to no avail, and I started to realize it might not be possible for me to pull it off, even with Johns help.
So I called John and explained the situation to him, telling him that I thought it might be too big of a job for us to do after all, and that I would just have to wait until I had enough money to pay the fucking Firestone guys to fix it. He said to hold off, that he would be over to check it out. I had plans to visit a friend tonight already, so while I was over at her place, John was at the house, checking out the car.
When I got back home, Matt said that they had looked at the car and researched it some more. What we need is a serpentine kit that costs about 80 bucks, and comes with a belt and the tools we'll need to be able to fix the tensioner and install the new belt. This sounded a lot more reasonable than the 350 they quoted me or the 270 they quoted my brother, once they realized I wasn't going to let them give it to me in the backside. So with 80 dollars for parts and 50 dollars an hour... lets be generous and say it takes two hours to fix it... Firestone should charge me 200 dollars MAXIMUM for parts, labor, and tax to fix that thing. So I was right, they were trying to screw us over, just like ALL mechanics and garages will do in the blink of an eye without thinking twice. I've just had too damn many experiences, several times getting ripped off, and several times ALMOST getting ripped off - like today - NOT to be wary of those fuckers. Repair shops are worse than the IRS. At least the IRS doesn't lie to you.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Stuff
Ah, now I just love this. Sleeping until I feel like waking up, then sitting up in bed, grabbing the laptop or a book, and just reading or listening to music or yakking here on MySpace or the game forums or finding crazy shit on teh interwub. And I don't have to work. And it's still morning with most of the day ahead. And, since I'm sick, I might call off work tomorrow and get to do this again.
I won't lie, I could probably go to work and tough it out, but whatever I have is most likely contagious, otherwise how would I have gotten it? It would probably be wise to stay home. We'll see how I feel tomorrow.
Christmas was cool, I got:
A book titled "Jonathon Strange"
A bunch of candy
A bunch of socks (this is my favorite gift)
A shirt with a weird skull on it
Some black t-shirts
A 50 dollar Target gift card
A 30 dollar Visa gift card
A 20 dollar Papa Johns card
A Sarah Brightman cd (oook, thanks mom :p )
The title to my car, finally transferred over to me (I bought it from my mom, finished paying for it in '06)
Some sausage and cheese
Some smoked salmon from Alaska
Some Krispy Kreme Krullers
I won't lie, I could probably go to work and tough it out, but whatever I have is most likely contagious, otherwise how would I have gotten it? It would probably be wise to stay home. We'll see how I feel tomorrow.
Christmas was cool, I got:
A book titled "Jonathon Strange"
A bunch of candy
A bunch of socks (this is my favorite gift)
A shirt with a weird skull on it
Some black t-shirts
A 50 dollar Target gift card
A 30 dollar Visa gift card
A 20 dollar Papa Johns card
A Sarah Brightman cd (oook, thanks mom :p )
The title to my car, finally transferred over to me (I bought it from my mom, finished paying for it in '06)
Some sausage and cheese
Some smoked salmon from Alaska
Some Krispy Kreme Krullers
Friday, December 26, 2008
Relieved
Yesterday morning I went to work and was feeling all depressed again. Thankfully I was let off work early and I went to my sisters straight after that.
Well, it turns out I'm not depressed after all. I'm just sick. Almost immediately after arriving at my sisters, I started getting physically ill... cough, sore throat, chills, fever, sneezing, runny nose, the works. I do find it decidedly odd, though, that getting sick was prefaced by this horrible depression. That's never happened before.
Anyway, I've never been so glad to be sick in my life. Now that the physical part has kicked in full force, the mental part has pretty much gone away. I was really getting worried there for a while. Nothing is worse than that deep, dark clinical depression, the kind where you have to constantly fight minute by minute to hold back tears. Yuck. I hate it. I hope it never comes back again. EVER.
I'll see my mom today and she'll take care of poor widdle me.
Well, it turns out I'm not depressed after all. I'm just sick. Almost immediately after arriving at my sisters, I started getting physically ill... cough, sore throat, chills, fever, sneezing, runny nose, the works. I do find it decidedly odd, though, that getting sick was prefaced by this horrible depression. That's never happened before.
Anyway, I've never been so glad to be sick in my life. Now that the physical part has kicked in full force, the mental part has pretty much gone away. I was really getting worried there for a while. Nothing is worse than that deep, dark clinical depression, the kind where you have to constantly fight minute by minute to hold back tears. Yuck. I hate it. I hope it never comes back again. EVER.
I'll see my mom today and she'll take care of poor widdle me.
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