Here's the plot twist we all saw coming:
Turns out that if you ask your boss for more money and less hours, plus tell her that you're not gonna do the new task she wants you to do, the answer will probably be no. I'll be working at Haugen & Dahl through the end of the month, and then unemployed again.
Four months I lasted there. It felt like six, and it's not going on my résumé.
♦ ♦ ♦
At the family breakfast on Saturday, Mom didn't say one single sentence that wasn't something she says at every breakfast together. Not one. Always there's a lot of repetition, but I'm not sure she's ever gone through the entire breakfast saying nothing but things she's said dozens of times before.
Did you come on the bus?
Are you going to go home on the bus?
Do you ever hear from Margaret?
How's your cat?
Did your cat come from China?
Did your cat meow all the way in the car, when you came back from Wisconsin?
Are you still hoping to move?
Will it be a shared house again, or an apartment of your own?
Do you like the people who live in your house?
Are you still not talking about where you work?
Are you planning to get your teeth fixed?
Where are you working now?
Mom, of course, knows the answers to all these questions, except the last one. She has the answers memorized — her memory is sharp as a blade — and actually, if I vary the answers she'll call me on it.
And yet, she asks the same questions, every Saturday, and often by text during the week. She'd call and ask the same questions on the phone, but I never have my phone's ringer on — and she remembers that well enough that she's stopped calling.
She was the same way 30 and 40 years ago. The only thing that's changed is, her hair's gone gray.
♦ ♦ ♦
As a young man I wouldn't have understood this, but as an old man let me tell you, a good bowel movement is an achievement. It gets the day off to a grand start, physically and psychologically, and leaves me feeling like there's nothing I can't do.
Seriously, for at least an hour after a major movement, I feel terrific from my upper thighs to my armpits. There's no illegal drug that can give such a wonderful feeling.
Good thing I'm not gay, though. I've lost most of the feeling in my anus. The younger me knew exactly the shape and texture of every turd as it emerged, but old me is usually surprised when I turn around and look at my work. I would've sworn it was marbles yesterday, small, well-rounded, and firm, but nope, it was cookie dough, and much more of it than it felt like.
♦ ♦ ♦
This is so obvious I shouldn't even bother saying it, but Domino's Pizza is a scam. Every month or so, they mail out their oversized flyers bragging about good deals — this time it's $6.99 per medium-size two-topping pizza, if you buy two or more. From past experience I knew it wouldn't add up, but I tried anyway, and of course, two pizzas for $6.99 each totals $25.41, including tax but not including a tip.
The flyer says that the special price is "delivery only," but doesn't mention that there's a delivery fee. That's why it costs more than what's promised.
Smells like a class-action lawsuit, but I'm lazy and not litigious. All I'm gonna do is spread the word that Domino's is a scam, and rip up their flyers whenever they come in the mail, to protect my flatmates from being swindled.
♦ ♦ ♦
Last weekend I learned something new about myself, something I'm pleased about. I'm a man who has some standards, damn it.
So there I was, enjoying some perfectly adequate homemade porn, when the camera pulled back and you could see the bottom of a Confederate flag on the wall, above the couch where the action was taking place.
Well, harrumph — I closed that tab and continued surfing, looking for some fuckers who weren't that kind of fuckers.
♦ ♦ ♦
Pathetic Life isn't done, by the way. There are still twenty pages of letters and replies, but at the moment I'm low on energy and interest in retyping them.
6/20/2023
I have trained my bowels to move in a specific pattern. Because I have leg issues, and hate walking upstairs to crap, I try to only have to crap when I'm upstairs. Standard pattern is :
ReplyDeleteWake up at 4, tiny poop.
One more at 5:30, tiny.
One more at 6:30, tiny.
Those add up to one standard poop.
Then nothing all day until I go up to bed between 11PM and 1 AM. That'll usually be a decently sized BM, but sometimes nothing at all.
Weirdly, I also sometimes can't tell what's coming out. Last night it felt like a small-to-medium turd, but it was a fucking nine-incher.
*That's* what I'm talkin' 'bout, Willis. From all these years of experience, I used to know what was coming out, but I had exactly that experience a few weeks ago: It felt like half a hot dog — not quite "why bother" but nothing much, except it was actually one of the longest logs I've ever, almost a "foot-long" and standing up on its own like it might walk out and say howdy.
DeleteI'll bet if you put your mind to it you could do all three of those morning turds at once.
>I'll bet if you put your mind to it you could do all three of those morning turds at once.
DeleteNah. I mean, sure, but I'd have to wait and wait, and be in discomfort, feeling shit-pressure. It's like, I poop a little, and moving around unlocks a little more. Then again, and then one more time.
> standing up on its own like it might walk out and say howdy
DeleteHowdy Ho!
https://youtu.be/8ur_PW5SH3Q?t=10
Ah, Captain, that's one of the joys of working at home. No poop pressure at all. Pooping three times can be pleasant. I miss those days.
DeleteMe, I gotta catch a bus in ten minutes, ride for an hour and 15, so I definitely gotta squeeze as much outta me as I can, and fast.
And pooping at work is a nightmare., with no bidet and their fluffy toilet paper and the auto-flushing toilet that whooshes like an aircraft carrier every time I bend over a bit to wipe again.
Ain't many TV shows I miss, but SOUTH PARK is one of them. Loved the "NOEL"...
DeleteI don't mean mental / time pressure, I meant asshole pressure. I like to get rid of it ASAP, so I crap as soon as I feel the need, unless I'm feeling lazy or am downstairs. Then I'll let it build.
DeleteTo thine own ass be true. When I'm at home, I ignore the urge until it's urgent.
DeleteIt's the opposite for peeing, though. Then the slightest pee is ready to go, I go pee. Sometimes I wonder if I've trained my bladder to be the size of a shot glass. Eight hours at work, I'll pee 4-5 times.
I've not had TV broadcast or cable reception for years, and I've never seen an episode of South Park. I caught a couple of eps of The Simpsons in the mid-90s if that counts.
Deletejtb
The absence of television improves anyplace, especially the home. *Everything* on television is a corporate product.
DeleteSOUTH PARK is pretty good television, though. More outrageous and less warm and fuzzy than THE SIMPSONS.
Losing rectal sensitivity is an old-age thing? I am 52 and asked my doctor about it, and he thought it was a gay thing. Maybe I need a different doctor.
ReplyDeleteThat's all he said? "It's a gay thing," like — to be expected? Your doctor is an ass himself.
DeleteYeah, I dig, a good bm and a good nights sleep makes me feel like an animal, in a good mood...interestingly rectal sensitivity seems to have increased, never before have i felt so much pleasure from a hard wipe or two...hmm...anyway, i haven[t had internet for two weeks, wonder what i missed...`````eel
ReplyDeleteEel, you should send that other Anonymous some of your rectal sensitivity, he's doing without.
DeleteWhat have you missed being without internet for two weeks? Jack crap. It's all piffle.
That idiot is still "running" the Postal Service. Heaven knows how much they'll charge to send rectal sensitivity in any reasonable amount of time.
ReplyDeletejtb
Probably needs special handling stickers too, and doesn't qualify for bulk rate.
DeleteLouis DeJoyless on streaming gave us a platitude-filled "Welcome to USPS" speech at my orientation. It might've been the first moment when I had serious doubts about the job, and when he'd finished lying, one of the in-person speakers made some weird raspberry-adjacent mouth noises.
My mother is pushy, but your mother is something else. Two questions, why is she like that and how can you put up with it twice a month⁉
ReplyDeleteHey, don't you be talking bad about my mother. Only I get to talk bad about my mother.
DeleteNah, not really. Have at her.
I don't know why she's like she is, and I put up with it because well, for a lot of years I didn't, but I've mellowed. She's the only mom I'll ever have, and sometimes she says something sweet, but when she does it ain't funny so it doesn't make the diaries.