Two Day Diary

Friday, Oct. 3, 2013 - 0330

Why is my phone ringing? The hell, alarm. Gotta get up, get packed, seeing mom after work. Work, somewheres in my melon a bell is ringing, ermph, have to print up punchlist and get ahold of people. That's why I'm up. Coffee, dog, hi Jax!, oooh, my puppy skritchskritchskritch...skritch shit have to move! Where's my phones? Quick check the final score skritchskritch... GODDAMMIT!

Friday, Oct. 3, 2013 - 0510

night shifter "paleo, what in the hell are you doing here? It's like 5 in the morning..." 

paleo "garblemumblehad a fight with your wifeblumflurg" 

night shifter "What happened to your head? You don't look any weller than you normally do."  

paleo "You inspired me. I'm going for the shambling mound theme."

Friday, Oct. 3, 2013 - 0510

Going through the Kubler-Ross 5 stages of contractored work.

1. Denial - No, I never said this was the final list.
2. Anger - If you can't get your boss to get more guys off the bench, let me know. Imma stand on his desk and tell him exactly what I need. Possibly with sweeping arm gestures.
3. Bargaining - C'mon, one more strong week and you'll never see the inside of this place again.
4. Depression - I ain'tn't gonna get this done in time and my boss is going to rip my lungs out and beat me to death with them.
5. Assessing the blame - November 3.

Friday, Oct. 3, 2013 - 1315

Everyone appears to be reasonably content. Go get some lunchhhhhhh that I forgot this morning. Along with apparently CPAP. Well, Subway and terrible night sleep it is.

Friday, Oct. 3, 2013 - 1605

In truck. Love my truck, but it is not a great traveller, stiff suspension, I know by the time I get to Phoenix La Crosse my kidneys will have failed and dribbled out my shoes. Still have radio from in town. Listen to Twin Cities sportsradio, delicious, yummy schadenfreudey tears.

Color announcer "Yeah sometimes a head coach needs to know when to dial it back a bit with the media - "

paleo "NO!, you goddam jocksniffing murderface fucker of ewes! We are building that moronic criminal Sopranos wannabe a billion dollar palace! Not only should Vikings fans expect answers from the goofy hooker, we as taxpayers ought to know his wife's recipe for tuna surprise and his Social Security number! Suck a fart!"

Friday, Oct. 3, 2013 - 1640

Okay, the driving chill factor not exactly there. Podcast? Aaaand I didn't download anything new. Pandora? Cheese? Done. Ooooo...




Friday, Oct. 3, 2013 - 1955

Made it to mom and dad's, cleaned up, dad drove us to the recovery/care center. My mom had a hip replaced Monday, 5 days later she can already stand and sit with more ease and comfort than the day before the surgery. She is such a tough chick. I am so happy, but so tired. Snuck her in some caffeine-free Diet Pepsi and some Reisens. We stayed about 45 mins.
Dad and I picked up Culvers on the way home, fish. Average, perfectly edible. Dad is surprised. Being 70+, with a german wife, one gets used to good home-cooked food, and not all fast food completely sucks. I'm too hungry and tired to notice and after inhaling a sturgeon and having a wee 5 or 6 shot toddy its beddy-bye. Know I'm gonna regret forgetting the CPAP.

Saturday, Oct. 4, 2014 - 0045

Yep. Regretting it. Just woke up from a vivid dream where I shaved my head with a plastic safety razor for I am sure a perfectly good reason, but now I had a skull full of bark-marks and blood, and all the scars on my head now visible to the world requiring I repeat the same boring stories. 

And the bed is a Temper-pedic, of which they otter be illegal, I hate the damn hot, clingy, tragically and painfully soft things.

Saturday Oct. 4, 2014 - 0800

I overslept, I blame the missing CPAP, the bed, late dinner, not enough to drink, not setting an alarm.

THIS BORING BLOG POST SHALL BE BRIEFLY INTERRUPTED TO SHARE PART OF TONIGHT'S SOUNDTRACK.


Saturday Oct. 4, 2014 - 0800

I overslept, I blame the missing CPAP, the bed, late dinner, not enough to drink, not setting an alarm. Want to see mom again and get out of town, get home and sleep before an overnight shift. Dad just wants me to help him a little bit with his virus protection.

Saturday Oct. 4, 2014 - 0905

Want to see mom again and get out of town, get home and sleep before an overnight shift.

This is the only briefly serious part of this 'diary', and there is much I won't go into, but. I am so proud of, and happy for, my mom. She is seriously awesome and I am a lucky, lucky person. One thing I will share - she asked me if my self-described 'weird turnaround' to see her for a total of maybe 2 hours was worth all the trouble. My answer of course being, hell yes.

Saturday Oct. 4, 2014 - 1030

Trucking back to the Twin Cities. I said above 'not all fast food sucks.' And I won't claim hypocrisy, sometimes I have a taste for McDonald's fries or a Sonic breakfast omelet and I will happily go and get them. Usually, however, if I am having fast food it is because I screwed up my eating schedule. Take everything I just said and pitch it in the trash, because I had to eat something and the only really convenient place was Burger Traitors. The food has never really been worse than most fast food, but they are traitors. I would guess, however, that the PR debacle of 'inverting' has taken a toll.

fast food worker "We're just going to make some fresh sausages for you." 

paleo "Actually, I appreciate that, being so lat-"  

microwave "beeepbeeepbeeep" 

paleo "e."

 Saturday Oct. 4, 2014 - 1300 

Home, and I have to nap, have to work overnight. Say hello to Jax, HELLO JAX!!, oh who's my puppy jesus christ you huge fucker owww! Jaxson! don't give me the look, oooooh, my puppers!!
Clean up lie down, mask on this time. Oh, that's sweet, my kitties crawled up next to daddy, and now Jaxson, between my legs, gosh, this is wonderful, umm, guys, can't move, guys? Jax? Divakittie? Whatever.

Saturday Oct. 4, 2014 - 2000 

This is going to be a long night. I know I'm tired, long day, but have to get my collective head out of my collective ass.

Sunday Oct. 5, 2014 - 0310 

Maybe not such a long night. Assuming the next hour doesn't find me crawling out from under the wreckage of several million dollars worth of switchgear to print resumes after end of night proof-test, or, an easier outcome, greasespot, given my manager's proclivity to remove pulmonary sacks from thoracic cavities involuntarily, then applying them, with wild, indeed gleeful, abandon, to a proximal skull. 

TTFN