Don't Call it A Comeback

All LL references aside, I haven't been intentionally neglecting my blog.

Sadly, I've gotten really busy at work over these past few weeks.

And by busy, I mean that my work area is within a direct line of sight of a superior's office. Which tends to limit my blogging and/or internet surfing. Trust me, internets, I aplogize for this transgression against slacking. We all know it's not what I intended.

So, what have I been up to? You mean other than staking out and plotting the severe beating of my dry cleaners?

Ouch, well, here's the sad part. Not much.

Somehow, my employer has managed to find ways to keep me pretty busy with work, which is fine for now, until I get truly overwhelmed. And by overwhelmed, I mean having to fix mistakes made by people with slightly lower IQ's than my toaster.

Accomplished in the last 2 weeks:

1) Went to the Browns home opener, which was fun, except for the losing part, and the sunburn part. This day also kinda sorta lost some semblance of control when Bob and I were walking from one end of the parking lot back towards our cars at about Noon time, when we saw an RV with a sign on the side that sad "Come do a Shot for Martha's Birthday"

Surprisingly, we totally fell for it. We figured, hey, middle of a Sunday morning, middle aged people, what's the worst that can happen.

A shot of Wild Turkey apiece later, we realized what could go wrong. Needless to say, I spent most of the first half being beligirant. But I didn't get arrested, which is a bonus.

2) I have some how ended up training some of the newer people in my department. Being that I have been in this department for all of 3 weeks, I can't say that this was a good call by the powers that be. It's more the equivalent of asking a guy with one leg to run the first leg of a relay race. It'll get done, but all I'm doing is leaving everyone really far behind.

3) Realized that I must be in some semblance of a relationship. Megan and I have been dating for a couple of months now, so that was inevitable, but I realized it when I got in my shower Sunday morning and saw a razor that I didn't recognize. It was blue, and had all kinds of little curves and grippy things on it. (it had a razor blade on it, otherwise I might have thought it was something else) Needless to say, that woke me up a bit. Her leaving a toothbrush there I had adjusted to, that's just practical, but the razor? Whatever. I'll live with it, but if a box of feminine hygiene products shows up in my linen closet anytime soon, I may have to draw the line.

One More Thing That's Wrong With Most People

Let me start this post by stating one very simple, obvious thing. I'm lazy. Like really lazy. And I wouldn't ever be accused as someone who "enjoys working". When the clock hits 5:59 here in my office, I'm locking up my desk and shutting down my computer and doing the Office Space style "watching it save my files at the speed of a fat man in the last half of a marathon, praying that no-one throws anything on my desk"

However, that also has something to do with the fact that I work in an office, not in a service industry. I can get away with shutting it down right at closing time.

Is this going anywhere? Maybe.

Bottom line. My dry cleaner pissed me off the other night.

Now, this is nothing new, as the dry cleaner, (all dry cleaners) annoy me. The concept of dry cleaning is annoying to me anyways, as I don't like having to pay for a process I don't understand, which 30-40% of the time results in my clothing coming back different than when I dropped it off. Losing buttons, shrinkage, etc? This shouldn't happen, but it does happen at more than a couple of the drycleaners I have tried.
You don't go to a car wash and come out with out a tire, do you? So how does the dry cleaner manage these things?

Back to my original point. I walk into the dry cleaner at 8:50 the other night. They close at 9. That means, customers can't go in there after 9 and drop off and pick up. At least that's what it means in my world. I would think that this is what it means to EVERY RATIONAL ADULT IN THE FREE WORLD.
However, to the middle-aged, GED acheiving wretch behind the counter, it apparently meant that she was walking out the door as soon as that clock ticked to 9pm, regardless of whether or not there was still things to do. I don't think she got it.
I say this because she said to me, and I quote "Could you bring your stuff in a little earlier if you're going to be dropping it off from now on? We close in a few minutes"

I wanted to light this girl on fire. Really? No kidding you close in a few minutes, why do you think I showed up now? This is besides the fact that I dropped of 3 shirts and 1 pair of pants.
Not like I just showed up with my whole friggin wardrobe, is it?
I honestly thought about just strangling her with the pants, but then I probably would have stained them, and they would have charged me more.

Weekend Viewing Schedule

I know it's a little late on Friday for something like this, but it occurred to me about 4.3 seconds ago that my friends and I always joke that TV cameras should follow us around, because we are without a doubt some of the most entertaining people we know. And hell, I'd watch us. But we' have to be on HBO or something, or the censors would kick us off after the first forty seconds of the first episode.

I only bring this up because this weekend is going to be some combination of tension and humor, to say the least. Here's how it shapes up.

Friday 6pm- Race for the Cup (Sports) Watch me drive home as fast as humanly possible without getting pulled over, all in the quest to get a much needed cocktail.

Saturday 12 Noon- Road Trip/Meet the Parents (Comedy) Megan and I driving back to PA for a wedding for one of her friends brothers (I think). Surprise! It's in her hometown. Fortunately I only have to meet her mother on this trip, and it's only for lunch. Allegedly low stress. However, between driving two hours to a place called Beaver, PA, and not having ever been on a road trip with her, I'm bound to say something stupid. It's what I do.

Saturday 6pm The Waiting Game (Reality) The wedding reception. I'm imagining that the ceremony won't be a big deal, because that's a quiet time. However, I'm not going to know a soul at the reception, and knowing that Megan hasn't seen her friends from home in weeks, I don't expect her to be there for me to talk to the whole time. That leaves me with her friends boyfriends, whom I'm going to have to pretend I have some interest in listening to them talk about the Steelers for oh, about 2 and a half hours until they get drunk enough to start chanting "Brownsssss Shuuuck" (extra letters added for drunken Pittsburghian slurring) and probably spitting Rolling Rock on me in the process. This will probably happen to the point where I will want to douse them in Jack, and light them on fire.

However, failing that, I will probably just try to swallow a lit candle, and chase it with a steak knife.

(To Megan's credit, she has endured all of my friends, and our inside/offensive jokes, and I intend on being as polite and normal as possible.)

Sunday 4PM Survivor (Reality) Bob and Carrie are having a Labor Day bonanza, featuring liquor left over from the wedding. It will also feature lots of food, cornhole, and something that Bob is calling Donkey Punch. Be afraid, be very afraid. This may lead to some 'situations' that might be better left to the bonus DVD as opposed to the network airing.

Katrina is a Whore

Mother Nature is a bitch, what can I say?

I know I don't normally due thinky, thoughtful posts or anything. However, sometimes I get moved.

I found a blog about the hurricane from two reporters in Gulf Port, MI, who stayed in the city in their news office while the hurricane hit.

Call it crazy, or brave, or stupid, but whatever, it's interesting, and you have to give them credit for sticking it out and doing their jobs. Do yourself a favor though, read it from the beginning (the bottom) up to the top, you'll see a significant change in how they approach it as they see how bad it gets.

And to think we bitch about snowstorms. Pansies.