I'd hate to stand out in a negative way...

I’m a little pissed off right now. And I struggle again with self-censorship as I am angry with an individual. The person with whom I am currently angry is someone who finds her/himself unable to be nice. S/he is unable to write an email expressing concern with one thing or another without simultaneously being threatening and rude. S/he will remain unnamed. And in a supreme effort to remain charitable and thereby avoid going to confession this weekend, I am going to delete most of what I just wrote and rant about something – anything – unrelated to the gut-wrenching situation in which I now find myself.

And so:

An interesting thing happened when I went to set up the Post Office today to show a friend around the little town of Centreville. There were names attached to the doors of each room. This struck me as curious. Now, I don’t know whose idea this was, and I assume it was the postmaster or his associate. I will send each of them a separate email.

You know, I’m all for people taking initiative but this is something that steps outside of their roles. Other than facilitating the orderly delivery of the nation’s mail, everything else can and should wait. I ask that they please remove all these signs immediately. My impression was that my guest – their new customer whom they should be bending over backwards to cater to – was not impressed.

Just for their benefit, I ask that they please remember that my friend and I are different people. I have told the Post Office a few times that they need to wait, listen, and follow my friend’s lead. They need to give him a chance to get a handle on things around here. This is an overwhelming situation to walk into, so trust me, the Post Office does not want to stand out in a negative way.

If they have questions, my advice to them is to just make a list and wait for him to meet with them.


The preceding makes little sense to just about everybody. But it makes perfect sense to at least one person. If you have any questions about the preceding, please feel free to IM me or email me and I will explain in all clarity.

Stream of... something.

Okay, I really can’t think of anything to say right now, so I’m going to go all stream o’ consciousness on ya’ll. These last few days have been busy. I’ve had a lot to do and have actually gotten a lot done. I’m in a bit of a scramble ‘cause I got a bit behind over the past month. Oh well, at least the parish will be getting a lot of good people on staff who won’t allow a little thing like getting asked to resign to throw them off for a month. Geez – has it been a month? Yes it has!

Here’s to over a month of (more or less) regular posts on Your Daily Zuke! Wow! It feels like just yesterday I was ranting and raving about my good friend’s wedding and the fact that Sam Fisher would kick the snot out of Jack Bauer. Remember those days? Simpler times. We were so young then.

I’d like to thank all of you for helping to make Your Daily Zuke the smashing success it has become! You have given me stuff to rant and rave about. You have humored my unimpressive attempts at comedy and commentary. You have kept me smiling with your insightful and witty comments. So I dedicate this “BLOG of the MILENNIUM” award to you, my loyal fans! I am thrilled to receive this award so early in the millennium and I thank the academy for their completely unfounded confidence in the longevity of Your Daily Zuke.

Back to reality (or is it celebreality? I can’t remember…)… Hey is it okay to put six periods in a row separated by nothing but a close parenthesis? Let’s try it again and find out …)… Nope. That’s just not right. Anyway, I had to go to the new office today because the phone guys who showed up yesterday were the wrong ones and the correct phone guy came by today and was all like, “I gotta get in there and fix your phones up right!” So I was all like, “Crap! I totally had stuff to do that didn’t involve leaving the house! I had emails to write and fundraising to coordinate and a bulldog to walk!” Now I gotta get off my butt and go all the way out to Bull Run and open the Center for the phone guy so he can work for 3 ½ minutes!!! Okay. Fine. I’ll go out to the main office and meet the new boss. Nope he’s not there. Then he arrives, and never comes over to say hello to anyone on staff! So I left and came home and finished work.

Now here I am rambling on randomly. At some point there is no point. And… scene.

Change of scenery

This is the life.

Right now, I am sitting at home where I have been since the end of our weekly staff meeting this afternoon around 3:30. Since we have moved our offices, it just seemed smart to set up a fully functioning office here in my home. There won’t be any phones in the new office until “sometime between 8 and 5 tomorrow.” And it could be a while before we get any appreciable connection to the Internet. I’m going to work from home until the office is fully operational. Which means it is possible I’ll be here until my last day as a full-time employee of the parish (July 14th – actually the 15th, but I don’t work Fridays). For those of you who have missed my bullet points, here is a list of the best things about working from home.

• I can do laundry and work at the same time.
• My dog hangs out with me while I work.
• I can play whatever music I want as loud as I want. (“Hate it or love it the underdog’s on top, and I’ma shine homey until my heart stops. Go ‘head envy me. I’m rap’s MVP, and I ain’t goin’ no where so you can get to know me.”)
• I’m not wearing any… shoes.
• As soon as the work day is over at 6:00, I have a beer in my hand.
• There’s a lot more sunlight in my house than in my office, and sunlight makes me happy.
• I am not even tempted to go get McDonalds. After all, I have PB&J right here!
• The coffee maker here actually works.

We’ll see how long this works. I can probably only get away with it as long as there’s no Internet at the new place. I am definitely going to enjoy it for the time being. Except for tomorrow. I have to be there when the phone guy shows up. Phooey. That’s right. I said phooey.

Breaking my own rule

Why is it that I seem to be working harder on the weekends now than when I thought I was going to be employed here for the indefinite future? Friday night, I actually had to break my own rule twice! TWICE! The rule is, “never turn down an invitation to go out with a friend,” and I turned down Meegs and House because a) I had to finish packing my office for the move, and 2) I had to wake up early to actually help with the move at 8:00 AM Saturday morning. That stinks. I hate weekends where I don’t get a day off. And for those of you who are all like, “Zuke! You’re short-timing! We know you’re not doing anything during the week, so it is only fitting that you work yer butt off on the weekends!” I say this: I actually had to do stuff last week! I had to help pack up the office; I had to make like three phone calls and answer a bunch of emails; I had to write two long and hard thinkin’ blogs!!! But really, just because my workload is a little light right now, does not mean I deserve to lose my weekend! I only showed up to help move on Saturday ‘cause every person I talked to about the move was all like, “You’re going to be there right?” Which means, “you better be there because even though we are all adults with a lot of responsibilities who can take care of our own lives competently, there is a good chance we are going to muck up MOVING FURNITURE AND BOXES FROM ONE PLACE TO ANOTHER...” In other words, I got Catholic guilted into it.

Of course, Sundays are rough, but you all knew that. Oh. And for all you volunteers in my parish who are reading this, I have a question: Why don’t you show up? Please call someone… anyone… if it is your turn and you can’t make it!!! We had to “delegate” two extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion at the 9:30 Mass ‘cause only ONE EMHC showed up!

Oh well, like that hasn’t been happening every once in a while for the past two years. It just means I have to deal. Good thing I improvise well.

On the upside, the Responsorial Psalm I got to sing was fantastic. You never know how good a piece of music is until you sing it well. I’m keeping that one in the “go to” file.

Fell asleep last night about 10:00. Dog-tired.

I can’t wait to take a little bit of time off.

Looks like our new German shepherd is making a few changes. Did barley and hops grow in ancient Palestine?

10 things every guy should own

Before you begin - realize that this is an attempt at being funny written in response to the article which has ticked everyone off. Check out Digging Deep for a serious commentary.

Please do not take any of the following seriously!

Well, boys. We all need to be prepared for all those women that are trying to "get all up ons." Here are 10 "must have" items for every occasion.

1. A few dozen awesome photos of yourself. We all have those pictures. The ones where your hair, smile, and (let's be honest) all the lovely ladies hanging all over you come together in a bunch of sexy packages. Post them strategically all over your pad so that no matter where your lady guest is, she can't help but see and realize how desirable you must be. Keep them on your computer so you can have a narcissistic screen saver for all to see. And never, ever throw them away-- when you're 80-something it (and a few viagra) will be sure to help you recall your glory days!
2. A rubber body suit. Admit it, you feel like Batman (who-what are you!?) when you slip on a nice rubber body suit. The good news is that these days, you can transform any evening into a night of adventure by wearing your rubber suit underneath your shirt, jeans, slacks, whatever. And no, it doesn't have to come with a cowel and pointy ears, even a simple rubber suit will make you stand out in the crowd for all the chicks to see. (Added bonus: grease it up for low-friction fun!)
3. An acoustic guitar. What's one of the first places a girl peruses when she walks into a man's pad? The bedroom. But if all she sees is Rancid posters or classic KISS t-shirts, she's going to panic. Balance out the room with an acoustic guitar (maybe just a guitar case) and tell her its from your time when you tried to be a socially conscious folk singer until you realized that corporate greed and the male power structure would never allow your unique male-feminist vision to come to light. Crushed, you vowed never to play again. It'll show you have a "sensitive side" and can "understand" her. That's music to any woman's ears.
4. A great pick-up line... and a way to blow 'em off. In this post-feminist era, we can't always depend on the chicks to just get all up ons like they used to. So prepare yo'self with the most outrageous and memorable one-liner to lay on any "do-able" chick that happens to stroll into the sports bar. Our favorite: "You look thirsty. Would you like to CENSORED?" And in case some non-do-able hag is hanging around, the more you humiliate her the better. Hold nothin' back brother.
5. A few bottles of Boones. A prepared player is ready with the cheap booze any time. If you wanna make your "Tuesday night special" relax a little and loosen up, skip the expensive stuff and stick to the quick-drunk sweetness that is Boones.
6. Bathroom "essentials." What lady doesn't appreciate finding a few extra sanitary napkins in the bathroom cabinets for whenever she needs them. So instead of tossing her out the door when her Aunt Flow is visiting, toss a few tampons in a basket by the toilet.
7. A little black book. These days, the traditional little black book can take all kinds of different shapes. From the PDA to the cell phone, you can store the names and numbers of all your booty-calls almost anywhere. Make sure you've got it passworded and locked, though. You don't want Sheila calling up Bebe and causing any trouble. With all these chicks passing out business cards these days (what does a friggin' waitress need a business card for anyway) you are going to need someplace convenient and organized to keep them all straight.
8. Earplugs. Women talk. A lot. 'nuff said.
9. As many straight women on your speed dial as possible. Every guy knows a few ladies he can go to for "comfort" whenever him and his lady are on the outs. While you may be able to crash on your boy's couch, if you really want a good night's sleep in a warm bed that doesn't smell like beer and Cheetos, call a girl who is too compassionate to turn you down.
10. A box of condoms. Hey guys, you know the drill by now. If you want to be able to have a night of spontaneous fun of the bodily kind, you have to be prepared. You know that in the two or three hours you are going to be there, you're going to misfire about 4 times, lose your "power" at least twice, and break at least one condom. With a whole box in your coat pocket, you're sure to have at least one good go at it.

Zuke would like to thank about thirty of the dirtiest, most shameful low-life scrub players for advising him of some of the essentials he was missing.

Geez - that one went in an unexpected direction didn't it?

A Lazy Day at Last

Woke up at 9:00 to the sound of - nothing. I woke up when I was finished sleeping and not before. I love that.

Got a shower, walked the dog, and ate the last two eggs in my fridge and made a nice pot of coffee. The half-n-half had gone bad so i three in a few scoops of hot chocholate mix. Yum. Drank my coffee while watching Pokemon and The Batman on WB.

Slacked off online and in front of the TV until about 3:30. Then I went grocery shopping. Got the basics (see yesterday's post) as well as some TP, paper towels, and Milk Bones. Picked up an extra 22 oz. Yeungling as a treat for me.

Back online, checking the blogs and email. Drinking my beer. Post a lengthy and completely unsubstantiated essay on Digging Deep. I need to start citing sources rather than writing off the top of my head. Maybe once I have two theological libraries at my immediate disposal...

Ha! Convinced Termite to come over and play video games. That's really all I can do on a Saturday night. Gotta get up tomorrow at 5:00.

Oops! Gotta walk the dog!

My last beer and other disasters

Ahhh… That was tasty. And now I’m out of beer. I’ll have to make my way to the grocery store. I hate that place. Every time I go there I am reminded how boring I can be. I get the same thing every time. Beer, orange juice, milk, bread, cereal, half-and-half, eggs, and whatever soda has the best deal. Geez. Now I am reminded that I am a person of very simple needs. I don’t know how to interpret that. Does that mean I am comfortable with my routine and don’t need spontaneity to fulfill my life. Or does it just make me boring. Hm. Probably both. Maybe this time, just for the heck of it, I’ll use House’s grocery list instead!

• Chocolate Milk
• Double Stuff Oreo's
• Chicken Fingers
• Smirnoff
• Fruit Mix

Oh. This week it was announced that our parish will be divided into a parish and two missions. I get a new boss at the end of the month. The weird thing is, if I wanted to, I could call my first boss, have him put in a good word for me, and get my job back. But I don’t want my job back. I want to go to school full time to get edumacated! How else will I ever get to be a theologian…? Anyway, the practical implication of having a new boss is that they will probably pay me to show up every Sunday and lead Masses. More than just singing though. My title would be something like Liturgy Coordinator. At least, that’s the title I’ll give myself. It just means I’ll be working Sundays the same as I have been for two years now. I’ll also get paid more than I would if I were just singing.

I finished my class this morning. I got an A just like I figured. What a great class. Yesterday we took a field trip to the Jefferson Memorial (which is basically a temple of Enlightenment thought) and then to the National Cathedral (representative of medieval philosophy). Then we had lunch. I probably learned more by doing less than I have in any class so far. Goes to show how effective a learned and experienced Carmelite can be as a teacher. Too bad he has to leave the states and go be a pastor in Canada.

Oh, after talking to my siblings, I come to find out that there is a good chance that none of them will be around on Sunday to celebrate Father’s Day with dad. I have to come up with something all by myself. Planning and plotting (as many of you know) has never been my specialty. Fortunately, he’s playing a round of golf with mom that morning, so he should be good and tired. I’m thinking I’ll just get him drunk so he’ll fall asleep happy. What do you think?

Geez. I need to invite a few people over so they can see the house and decide if they want to live here when I’m gone. Bulldog slobber on the walls is definitely not a selling point. Get me a bucket and a sponge – I’m gonna be here a while.

Hi Mom!

I just learned something disturbing. My mom is reading this. She said something like, “How else am I going to find out what’s going on in your life?” Now, some of you know my mom and some of you don’t. I just want to warn you, that if I have linked you to this page, then there is a chance, however slight, that she’s reading your posts too. Some of you have made passing comments about whether or not to self-censor your posts knowing who is reading them. I now know what you mean.

Now on to the recap of Wednesday evening.

None of you CENSORED’s showed up. Only House was there. Perhaps I gave the wrong impression and some of you interpreted my invitation to mean we would go to Red Rocks every Wednesday. That is not the case. Basically, House and I pick a different place every week. Last week was at Hard Times Café in Springfield (Cincinnati chili the way mom used to make… mmMMMmm…). The week before that was at Kate’s Irish Pub, also in Springfield. Who knows where the CENSORED we’ll go next! A willingness to actually go someplace may be required.

I arrived a bit before eight o’clock. House was no where to be seen. So I got a beer and sat at a table to watch Atlanta lose to Texas while I waited. Almost immediately, this CENSORED with an awesome CENSORED in her CENSORED sat down across the table from me and we began to CENSORED. She was really into my CENSORED (she said it made me look CENSORED), and enjoyed CENSORED, so I indulged her. She said she had to go ‘cause she was catching an CENSORED to CENSORED for an extra long weekend. She wrote her number on my CENSORED with a Sharpie she magically pulled out of her CENSORED and left me there holding my CENSORED.

As she left, House arrived, and we BS’d about his job and my class until about 10:30. The Braves lost. And I was pleased.

You all missed it.

Life keeps getting better! Plus an Unintelligible Rant.

I just found out that the $4000/semester cost of housing at school includes free local phone, free high speed 'net and a potential 17 meals/week! Sweet. Though, if I work it out on paper... (this is the part where I exercise my feeble math skills) Dang. It still costs more to live at school than at my house.

Waitasec. Maybe not.

I didn't take into account the savings in gasoline and auto maintenance. I might just be breaking even. Oh well, that’s okay. If I was living at home, I wouldn’t get to participate in all the “student life” activities I just found out about.

That’s right folks. Catholics like to party. According to the Student Life Office, we like to party once a month, and then only according to the Dogmatic Constitution on Holy-Hellraising and its interpretive document The General Instruction on the Roman Kegger. Of course both documents are open to vast interpretations based on their historical context. Holy-Hellraising was written in a time of greater partiological freedom and innovation, but the GIRK was written more recently to counter what some considered to be “abuses” in partiological practice. Hence, many of the seemingly obvious provisions in Holy-Hellraising for culturally significant and relevant food, drink, and music have been reduced in the GIRK to exclude everything except flat-bread (with hummus), red wine and Journey. We hope that with the election of a German pope, some of the restrictions (on stout and bratwurst for example) will be removed.

The historical archetypes for the monthly Catholic parties can be found in Scripture, but recent historical criticism has discovered that Jesus and the disciples in fact partied far more often. Not only that, but the more we learn about the historical Jesus, the more likely it becomes that women actually threw parties which Jesus attended. It also appears that anyone who knew how to throw a good party was good enough for Jesus. Given these findings, scriptural scholars are in a position to challenge, ever so gently, the Catholic doctrines of the monthly party and the requirement that all party hosts be men specifically designated to party. However, in the current climate in the Church, it may not be prudent to push these issues.

In conclusion, all Catholic intellectual party-goers can do is get together once in a while, outside the auspices of the monthly Catholic party, and continue to develop their informed criticism of the reactionary GIRK, placing it in its proper historical context. They must never cease to study the history of partying in the Church from its origins, and test the doctrine against history rather than to interpret scripture to uphold a doctrine with no basis in history.

Wednesday Nights

There was a time when I would not think of missing a Wednesday night at Brittney's Sports Bar in Lake Ridge for Wing Night. For a couple weeks in a row now, House, Stone Cold, and I have got together to hang out and drink a bit on Wednesday evenings. The location changes every week, and tomorrow the place is Red Rocks in Centreville.

I am hereby throwing out an invitation to any and all who have a free evening on Wednesday to come on out.

We arrive around eight and stay until we get tired. So if you don't want to stay out late, there is no need to. I don't usually stay any later than 11. I'll start posting the location every week. You should come! If for no other reason than to supplement all this electronic communication with actual human interaction.

Going Fishing

Du meine gute! This whole going to class every morning and working every evening would be a lot easier if I had a break on the weekends. Unlike some people, I did not have the luxury this weekend of having nothing to do. Quite the opposite. I had the unique pleasure of setting up the church parking lot for the parish’s 30th anniversary picnic. This involved arriving in Middleburg at noon and setting up two 20 x 10 canopies, 15 tables and 90 chairs. Not to mention the sound system. I had planned to go home and rest a few hours between set-up and the actual picnic, but I ended up out in the sun all afternoon working until the picnic at 5:00. Of course, since I work for the church, the parish picnic itself is work. I have to be “on.” So I hung out ‘till 7:00, came home and crashed like a tree falling in the forest (without making a sound).

On weekends like this, I really feel the fact that I have to wake up at 5:00 AM on Sundays. Now, I don’t want to sound like a big baby (this is a hint that I am about to whine like a little baby), but normally, I have a couple days off before Sunday hits. I’m rested and ready to roll. This Sunday was different. Not only was I still busted (and a bit sunburned) from working on Saturday, but it was also an emotional day. We announced my impending resignation from the parish (July 15). In addition, so many announcements came down the pipe regarding our parish communities this week that the whole parish was reeling. On any normal Sunday, I would finish up with morning Masses around 1:00 PM, go home and play video games. This Sunday, I went directly to a choir workshop from 2:00-5:00. It was good, but I was beat. I still am.

What’s the point? I’m fishing for sympathy here! My life is soooOOOooo hard! What? No love? Everybody else has hard days and works hard at their jobs too? Say it ain’t so! I was sure I was the only one.

Point taken. I’m shutting up now.

18 Again

I have come to the conclusion that I wish I were eighteen again. I base my findings on the following evidence. Yesterday, after returning home from class and work, I sat down to find prices for some of my old comic books. I plan on selling them on eBay or something. Well, I ended up reading comic books for about 6 hours!!! WTF!? I checked the dates. The last time I actually bought a comic book was in 1995! I was a baby first year at UVA. And yet, here I was, happy as a clam, reading comic books instead of reading for my class, or checking my email, or anything else? Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that I harbor a subconscious desire to be 18 again.

Given this desire, I am forced to extrapolate some meaning from the situation. I have decided to compare my life 10 years ago to my life today. If it turns out that life was better back then, I will embark on a quest to retrieve my youth. If it turns out that life today is better than it was back in the day, then I will have proven my subconscious mind FALSE, and can continue my life without its irrational prattling.

18 years old
In the best shape of my life.
About to enter college
Job = lifeguard; coach a swim team during the summer
Had an awesome tan
Car = Mom’s 1984 Oldsmobile station wagon
Living accommodations = parents’ house
In the third month of an awesome and fun relationship

28 years old
NOT in the best shape, but I can still do pushups.
About to go to grad school full-time (weird)
Job = making good money in a parish.
Pale and a lot hairier
Car = My 2000 Honda Civic
Living = a house I own with my sister
Relationship = N/A
Bulldog
XBOX
Batman Begins
DVDs
Oh, and I’m a lot smarter than I used to be.

Hmmm…

Looks to me like I’ve got it better now than I did back then. I should have known. It is never a productive enterprise to look backward to some kind of “golden age” that never really existed. Of course, looking forward to a utopian age that will never exist is no good either. It is always better to live in today. AWESOME! My subconscious has been thwarted! Comic books NUTHIN’! Where’s that Primer on Postmodernism? I’ve got some real reading to catch up on!

GAH! Stupid Internet...

I had a nice little story all typed up and ready to go and then the dumb posting thing didn't work and I lost the whole post. It's out in the ether somewhere. Dang it.

LONG STORY SHORT
Whatever the heck that means...

Due to my desire to finish up my employment with the Diocese of Arlington in such a manner that I am fully vested in the paltry retirement plan, I have extended my employment a few extra weeks until July 15th. MORE short time!!! Awesome.

I have to come to work, but I get a few more paychecks, so it's all worth it.

There. The Internet has completely removed any personality from this post. That's all I have for you right now. Except to remind everyone that...


I SAW BATMAN BEGINS LAST NIGHT AND YOU ALL HAVE TO WAIT 'TILL NEXT THURSDAY!!!

And so it Begins...

Let me say up front that I have possibly the best little sister ever. Why would I make such a statement? Well, how else would you describe someone who took you to an AOL exclusive advanced screening of the biggest movie of the year... BATMAN BEGINS!

That's right folks. I have seen the future, and it is good. Spare no expense when it comes to a theater near you... next week. It is worth every penny (though... our tix were free). This is Batman the way Batman should be. And I'm not just talking about the special effects and action sequences. I'm talking about a tortured Bruce Wayne compelled to become an everlasting symbol that criminals would forever fear, while simultaneously forcing himself to maintain his identity as Bruce Wayne out of devotion to his dead father. I'm talking about a Batman that is brutal, terrifying, and unrelenting. Tim Burton's darkly fantastic Gotham is replaced by a city that is strikingly chlostrophobic, grimy, corrupt, and totally hopeless. While Keaton's Batman whispered in the dark, Christian Bale's Batman roars in the night.

All the characters are amazingly portrayed. Of special note are Michael Caine as Alfred, Gary Oldman as a young James Gordon and Morgan Freeman as Lucious Fox.

Now, Batman Begins will probably not make as much cash at the box office as Star Wars, but in my humble opinion, Christopher Nolan has brought us Batman the way Sam Raimi brought us Spider-Man: as close to perfection as you can get. That makes this the movie of the summer for me. Go see it.

Summer Session - Day 2

Well, I have just finished my second day of class for the summer session at WTU. I really lucked out. The instructor is a Carmelite professor of philosophy who was just transferred to a parish in Canada, so he no longer has to answer to the Dean. What does this mean for me? Basically, there will be no written assignments, not too much reading (only one required text) and no exams. The four of us (three students and the professor) get together every morning for the next two weeks and talk about the development of Western Philosophy and its implications for theology. This is great stuff for me and my post-modern historically conscious self (I just learned that that's what I am). I have never taken philosophy of any kind, and in the next two weeks, I get to go through a bunch of it really fast. Ancient, medieval, modern, post-modern - awesome! My head is in the clouds where it belongs.

To top it all off, the course is not nearly as rigorous as I thought it would be. This means I will be able to occasionally show my face in public and not be chained to my books all week as I previously thought. I still gots to get to bed earlier than usual though, so I can't do any late night partying with you nut cases out there.

Oh, and the parish 30th anniversary picnic is on Saturday and I am in charge of setting up the tents and the sound system. This means that Saturday is shot for me. If you want to see me, come on out to St. Stephen's in Middleburg for confessions at 3:00 PM (for you sinners out there), Mass at 4:00 PM and/or the picnic directly following. There'll be BBQ and other good eats. Come on out and enjoy!

Spending Money Makes Me Sick

On Friday night, I caught a cold between 12:00 and 1:00 AM. I know this because when I fell asleep on my couch at 12-ish I was fine. When I woke around 1:00, I was sick. Wierd. I can only come to the conclusion that this mystery illness is the direct result of spending $1400 in a single day.

First of all, I had to pay for my class that begins tomorrow, and let me just say there is nothing worse than having a cold for the first day of class. Anyway, I paid for the class. $600. That's what happens when you are asked to resign and your employer no longer pays for your education. $600 shouldn't be a big deal, but for some reason the thought of it makes my head hurt.
Then I took my car in for scheduled maintenance. Okay, so I was a little behind (13,000 miles behind schedule). Consequently, the service guy at Hendrick Honda (on Jefferson Davis Highway in Woodbridge - ask for Dave Zurowski) suggested that, since I was sooOOoo late, I should get both the 105,000 and the 120,000 mile service all at once. That made sense. I was going to have to get it in a month or so anyway, might as well kill two birds with one stone. Oh, and by the way, I needed new brake pads too. Well add it all up = $813. Yikes. Why is my nose running?

So after spending a bunch of money, I came home for a quiet evening watching crap on TV and dozing. Only to wake up with a cold. A cold that is with me still. I can only come to the conclusion that I have some sort of physiological aversion to spending large amounts of money all at once. I have been taking care of myself: eating a good breakfast, taking vitamins, drinking water, and yet I still get sick. This isn't right.

Well, if spending money is the cause, then receiving money must be the cure. I'm currently accepting contributions of cold, hard cash to make me feel better. You all know my address. I accept personal checks. Thanks for your concern for my health and well being.

Oh, and the larger the contribution, the better I'll feel, so don't hold back. Show me some love.

To Heck with it!

I was trying really hard to come up with something witty and topical to post today, and I came up with nothing. I guess honesty is the best policy. Here are the crappy topics I was thinking about posting:

• Some of the unexpected consequences of blogging
• What am I going to do this weekend since I'll pretty much be absent from the world for the next two weeks?
• a list (ug.) of the rather mundane and unimportant tasks I need to get done before I am unemployed (including finding my local unemployment office)

So there you have it. I am so happy I came up with something better to write about. Wait. Dangit.

Predictions for June

I predict that this June is going to be very different than last June. There are a number of reasons for this.

1. I become officially unemployed at the end of the month. There is nothing like the realization that you will have no income to put you in a "SAVE YO MONEY" mode. I do not expect to go out or do anything unless someone else is buying. There. I said it. I am going to be a cheap-skate, mooching scrub for the summer. You may ask, "How is that different from normal?" Ha ha. Very funny. But I never mooch.
2. I am going to take a summer-session course up at WTU for the next two weeks (June 6-17). Every morning from 9:00-11:30, I will be in "Phiolosophy for Theology." Then I will work the rest of the day until about 7:00, then I'll be home buried in my books. I'm not sure how this will affect my psyche, but when it's all over, I'm going to need someone to buy me large quantities of Scotch in a very short period of time.
3. There are a few birthdays in June. Normally, I forget birthdays. Unfortunately, I put them all on my computer so that won't happen again. Erg. And Father's Day. Geez - we just took my Dad to see Star Wars for his birthday. I guess it'll be Batman Begins for Father's Day. As long as Mom's buying (cheap-skate, mooching scrub that I am). Hey - if you've got a birthday, there is a good chance it's not on my computer. Tell me when it is so I can rectify the situation.

Other predictions for June:

• Batman Begins will be awesome.
• My posts will be shorter and less frequent.
• Many of my friends will continue to feel "old."
• The ant baits I bought will not work.
• Roscoe will continue to be fugly and stanky.