Just a "Regular" Guy

We start with a catch-all: the kind of information that tends to slip through the cracks in the normal course of operations. These are things that I have noticed on a daily basis but failed to expand on, or even write down, because my top-of-the-mind awareness overpowered so I could talk about “training.” Well, if you got through that, you should have no problem with this.

Good news: The murderous tire has been placated, at least for the time being. I pulled off at Shell gas station on Friday after work to assess and address the situation, and while I was inside getting quarters somebody swooped in and took the air hose. Instead of engaging him in a heated wrassle-match, I offered him my air-pressure gauge so he could figure his figures. He then offered me the rest of his air. The perilous prance of reciprocal reaping was reaching its crescendo. Turns out my left front tire was toting a hefty 40 lbs./sq. inch, while my right front tire was sporting a paltry 20 lbs./sq. inch. This is equivalent to my stapling Tom Hanks to my left front tire and Colin Hanks to my right front. It is no wonder my car wanted to die and take me with it.

More good news: I may have found two housemates, and my role at work is finally starting to come into focus. Two men from Michigan, one a graduate from my year and the other from one year past, are going to be looking for housing of a more permanent nature toward the end of July. This doesn’t align precisely with my needs, as I have subletted out through mid-August, but subverted subletters can’t be stringent selectors. So, if chances be choices, then I guess I’ve been chosen for a housewife come late July. At least I wasn’t chosen for a mid-wife; the muggy air hangs pregnant with anticipation. As for work, I’ve been told that after a short stint learning the ropes (nooses) at customer support, I will be joining the Escalation team as a young gunslinger in training. Working within the stresses of the system, I will be expected to shoot down crisis targets and accost costs at a blinding speed. I have an intent to carry, but no license; but this is America, where dreams are shot down and blood pressure shoots up.

Neutral news: I saw a lady feeding a goose in the middle of a street. She was a middle aged Asian lady. I thought she was tempting the goose back to her house so that she could boil it in a traditional manner, serving it to her husband with the eyeballs salted. As I got closer, I realized the goose was a small child, but this still didn’t explain why she needed to sprinkle pieces of bread down on him. I felt a bit racist. When it comes down to it, the child was well-fed and my goose was cooked. I had a golden egg for dinner.

Bad news: The first, that when I went to the Durham Bulls game a few weeks back, I had to use a check to pay for my parking garage pass. After waiting in a line with hundreds of cars, I realize only when I am at the front and facing the ticket master that I have no cash. Not only do I have to pull off to the side, up on a curve, to write out a $3.50 check, I have to borrow a pen from the car behind me. It is no wonder that I forgot to write about this. The second piece of trash news is that the day after I bought my new shoes, which took me hours to pick out, I walked into work and the first person I saw was wearing the exact same ones. It just so happens that the person sporting the flashy footwear is my boss. The next day, as I was going to work, I thought it passing that I should put some deodorant on to impress my coworkers. I had some in the car, and tried to put it on. The stuff splashed down the front of my pants and left quarter-sized stains from crotch-town to knee-city. These greasy stains peered out at the world all day, so whenever I needed to leave my desk I would take my lunch pail with me, and swing it in front of my beehive like a baseball cup.

Lastly, and most depressing, I am saddened to report that Chad has put in over 60 hours of World of Warcraft on the computer in the last week. And, for five seperate meals, has consumed an entire package of bacon. Apparently some people define dinner as three cans of coke and twelve bacon strips, with a side of magic mushrooms from the warlock forest.

On to actual events that have taken place over the weekend. At poker on Friday night, I blew through five dollars in fifteen minutes and consequently watched for four hours. I, however, had a wonderful time and got to meet several of the workers hired last year. I also accomplished what I set out to do: convince everyone that I was horrible at poker and thus guarantee myself tons of cash in any subsequent tournaments. I win!?

On Saturday, I jetted over to the bank and pounded on the doors before collapsing in a bawling heap. Turns out that when I saw the 9-6 hours, they applied to Friday, not Saturday. So now my bank account could possibly be closed down, but only if I can't convince them that I belong this Friday (we have the day off.) On Saturday night I sauntered on over to a friend of Summertime Susan's, who was throwing a new apartment/new hire party. Most of the members of my "class" showed up, and some of his friends were also there. We tossed the turtle shell around, marveled at the beauty of the salt water apartment swimming pool, and poked fun at UNC grads. I have come to find that, as most of my coworkers are from NCSU, that hatred of UNC is not a birth right, but a birth tattoo.

Sunday swept me off to Weaver Street market, which is a bit like a permanent farmer's market, complete with its own set of sleeping hobos in blue jumpsuits and very skinny people shopping with bags they weaved at home out of umbilical cords. On Sunday afternoon, I again played volleyball for 3 hours, earning a new set of blisters. I may have fallen asleep before sunset; if so, I reneg any right to call myself spritely.

Monday at work was a day full of training. At one point I made the comment to a "teacher" that I couldn't believe it was only Tuesday, and he laughed for several minutes because I had lost track of time and it was only Monday afternoon. We had a get together in the afternoon to attend an internet conference on benefits, and we all left feeling more confused than when we went in. I ended up choosing a plan today; one which pays for everything up to $1000 per year, and any of that $1000 that isn't used is pushed into the next year. The plan is considered unfriendly to someone who needs perscriptions or chiropractic work, and friendly to someone who wants to bank up some health money and manage their own health costs. I just get a debit card, and can use it up to $1000. Scoreeee. We new hires popped two bags of popcorn and watched the show. Then I went to the gym to check out the area and mark my territory.

Today, Tuesday, I sat in on the mobile help desk, where they help people who are having problems getting e-mails on their BlackBerries. I learned a bit about this, and a little about that. The guy across the desk from me kept answering his phone and saying "Applebee's would you like to place an order?" He thought this was the funniest thing in the world, and I admit he was so serious about it that he got me to chuckle a few times. I say sorry for not posting over the weekend, and one faithful reader even told me to give my blog Activa, to make it more "regular." To this I say, I prefer moral fiber over any other type, and if I wanted my blog to go more often I would force feed it Wheat Thins and vinegar.

As Greg quipped to me last summer, "If this is torture, chain me to the wall." I think about this whenever I'm having a good day. May you, too, sleep happy.