Lifes the same, I'm moving in stereo.
Lifes the same, except for my shoes.
Lifes the same, you're shakin' like tremolo
Lifes the same, its all inside of you
I think someone who posted at slashdot is dead, shot by the police last Saturday night. I'm not 100% sure he was a slashdotter, but I have a gut feeling he was. I never met the fellow myself, but his death is somewhat involved in this journal.
Before I start I want to thank you all for your good wishes. My luck may have started turning around. I think, anyway. Please keep pulling for me to keep my house!
Friday before lunch Tami came by my work knocking on my window, telling me she wants to drink with me, and this time there's a twist - she's buying for a change! I'd planned on hitting the bars but what the hell...
True to her word she was buying. She'd gone to the blood bank and sold plasma.
She was now separated from her twenty eight year old alien husband, who's joining the Coast Guard. He can get citizenship that way and no longer needs the fat forty two year old "Puta," as he affectionately called her.
Puta is Spanish for "cunt".
Rather than getting shitfaced drunk this time, I drank slowly so I would be sober enough to take her home. I had to clean the house up a bit as my daughter and her fiancee were coming for a week's visit. She was going to drink with the old man on her 21st birthday, and her fiancee was going to be our designated driver. I'd told Tami and everyone else I was going to be incomunicado for the week my daughter was here; I don't need the distraction.
I dropped Tami off, and she made me promise to drop by in the morning. She had hinted when I left her at her house that she was attracted to me and that there may be sex some time in the future.
Scary. Just what I need, la puta gorda (shudder).
Saturday morning I gave her a ride to the food bank and bought her lunch from McDonald's "dollar menu" and dropped her at home again, and went home myself and did housework. While we were still at McDonald's my daughter called; they were just leaving Ohio and would be there at six or seven. I told her to call when she was close to town so I could be home when she got there. I'd changed the locks, and would give her a new key when she got home.
Housework done I went to Felber's for a beer. As I pulled up I noticed that I'd misnamed the barber shop next door in these journals - it wasn't Floyd the barber, but Fred the barber. There was an old man in Felber's I recognized (kind of) from some other bar, God knows where. And a younger neocon I'd seen once at George Ranks a few years ago and written a K5 diary entry on that I can't find now. Bored, I finished my single beer and toyed with my phone, and noticed that "Linda" had called the previous evening. So I called her back.
"Mary Jane" had wanted to shoot some pool and had used Linda's phone to call. Yes, the same "Mary Jane" and "Linda" whose names I've changed here who had been involved in the Lance debacle the night of the lunar eclipse. I told them sure, but I couldn't shoot but a few games as my daughter was coming to town.
I got to Mary's, her boyfriend was there. Mary exclaimed "I got some new shoes! You like 'em?" They were pink girlie tennis shoes. "Yeah, they're nice" I replied. "I got new shoes too, see?"
"Mine only cost fifteen dollars!" she said.
"I paid five, got 'em at Wal Mart on closeout," I said. "But girls' stuff is always more expensive, " I added.
"Well, guys could wear these too" she said.
I disagreed. "Kinda faggy for guy shoes". Her boyfriend grinned. "Yeah, he's right, I wouldn't wear 'em."
His ride came and he left, and Linda, Mary and I went to the Blue Grouch, and the pool table was gone. They'd taken it out to make room for a band that night. We decided to go to the Brooklyn, and left for there after Linda used the ATM at the Grouch.
Mary's relative, the one who had been threatened by Lance on loonie night, was babysitting Mary's infant. As we were on our way to the Brooklyn she called - the baby needed diapers. So we drove to get diapers and then to the north end of town with them, cutting into our pool shooting time.
By the time we got back we only had time for one game. They wanted me to drop them not at Linda's and Mary's but Ralph's, so we went there. As we were driving to Ralph's my daughter called - they were twenty minutes away from Springfield. I decided to say "hi" to Ralph when we got there.
While we were on our way Ralph called Linda - Lance had showed up wanting to borrow money, and Ralph wanted Linda to loan him the money to loan Lance, even though he was sure Lance wasn't going to pay it back, just to get rid of him.
Linda's card wouldn't work.
When we got to Ralph's and Lance found out Linda couldn't get money out of the ATM he went off on her, yelling that he knew she was "doing drugs" and promising that he was calling the police. "You're going to prison, bitch!" This unpleasant nonsense went on for quite a while, visibly upsetting the aged Ralph, and I finally had enough. "Why do you have to be such an asshole? There's no cause for your bullshit!" I said. He then challenged me to a fight. "I'm warning you," I said, "I fight like an old man" and held up my phone.
"That's because you're a pussy!" he yelled as he stormed out the door.
"I thought that God damned cocksucker would never leave!" Ralph exclaimed.
He had a new VCR/DVD combo on his coffee table and asked could I hook it up for him - sure, of course. But not right now, as my daughter was going to be there shortly. He offered beer and pizza, and I accepted. My daughter Patty called, and I went home and made spagetti for dinner, which was pretty easy as Tami had made the sauce a week or so earlier and I'd only frozen it. My daughter and her fiancee were going to visit their friends Ella and Sam, and rather than staying at my house had gotten a hotel room.
"Sam and Ella?" I said. "I get it, Ha ha," she replied, and made a face.
I went back to Ralph's and connected his electronics for him. The evening news was on, and one item was a shooting at the Bel Aire Motel, where many of Springfield's nuttier nuts, including Crazy Debbie, live.
Electronics connected and a few beers drank and I went home to bed.
Sunday morning I got up with the blues. Rather than being better, my eye was worse and it worried the hell out of me. I went to make eggs and bacon, and the bacon had gone bad. One of the eggs broke in the carton. Here it was my daughter's birthday and the day was starting out crappy.
And I was going to have to endure dinner with my ex-wife, known in the old K5 "Paxil Diaries" as "Evil-X". So I called Patty to wish her a happy birthday and find out when they were coming over. I was really looking forward to spending the day with her, and I needed company to help shake the blues. I woke her up. She'd gotten to bed late; they had gone to have some drinks with Sam and Ella at midnight the previous night, but didn't tell me that until later. I told her to call when she was on her way, and left to go to Felber's for a beer.
There were quite a few cars there, and I had to park in the mud in the back. Not in the far mud lot; if the less muddy lot had been full I'd gone elsewhere. I parked and went in.
Crazy Debbie was sitting at the end of the bar closest to the back door, next to an empty stool. "Steve! Hi! How you doin'!"
"Not too good," I admitted, and told her about the problems with my blinded eye which had been getting better until that morning, and my problems with the mortgage company that was doing their damndest to take my house away.
"I'm not doing too good either," she said. "I'm going to jail."
"Well, they sent a court summons but somebody stole my mail and I didn't get it. Now I have to show up to court on March thirty first and they want me in County for a year. And they want to put me in prison for two years. And I've been fighting with my boyfriend, that God damned son of a bitch. I haven't been home for two nights.
"Boy was it crazy at the Bel Aire last night!" she said, despite the fact that she'd just said she hadn't been home for two nights. Like I mentioned, she lives at the Bel Aire, where most of the town's other nuts stay. "There must have been a hundred cop cars there! It was nuts!"
"Yeah," I said, "I saw it on the news; they shot some guy they said came at them with a knife."
"I don't believe it," she said, "Bill wouldn't hurt a fly. He was crazy but he was nice." Talk turned to the other police shooting this year, where the cops shot a man sixteen times for firing a gun into the air to celebrate New Years eve. He'd lived, going to jail after he got out of the hospital.
I told her about my daughter's visit and said I'd not be hanging around anybody this week. She asked me to go to the St Patrick's Day Parade next weekend with her.
"Tami already asked me" I said; we'd talked Friday about how it was cold during the parade every year, how I'd gone every year because my daughter was in the parade because she was in band. It's always cold as Evil-X's heart during the parade, even if it warms up in the afternoon. The weather, I mean, not Evil-X's heart. Evil-X's heart never warms up. Tami'd said the St. Patrick's Day parade turned into a drunken party in the last couple of years and I told her I'd go with her to join in the inebriated Irish fun.
"But," I added, "I guess it's ok to take two women out at the same time, isn't it?" So I guess I have a double date next Saturday - me and two women. Two women who don't get along.
We drank the beers and I bought her another one and she asked me to take her home. She said she was going to break up with Ricky (who I've never met) and wanted me to be her boyfriend!
I told her I'd give it some thought. I saw why the thought of sex with her was so scary; she's nuttier than a fruitcake and she wants me. And she's a thief. And she's going to either jail or prison. I promised I'd keep in touch with her when she was incarcerated.
As I was on my way home Patty called and was on her way. I took her for what I thought was her first legal drink - but she'd already had a legal drink after midnight Saturday night. I directed her fiancee, who was our designated driver for the day, to Felber's. There was nowhere to park.
So we went to the Blue Grouch.
Taco was there. I seriously doubt it's CmdrTaco from slashdot; this fellow's a Mexican, which is where his nickname comes from. The pun "CmdrTaco" is obvious. Or should be. You all know what a "pink taco" is, I presume?
"Hey, Taco!" I said. "Hey!" he answered. "What's up?"
"Here with my daughter and her fiancee on her 21st birthday. Hey, I saw your old lady here a few weeks ago and she was calling 911 for you, said you had a hernia. You all right?"
"Yeah" he said. "It wasn't a hernia after all, it was double pneumonia."
The bartender asked what we wanted. "It's my daughter's first legal birthday, give us a couple shots of Petron, and Paul will have a soda. I'll have a Busch draft, too."
"Ok," she said, "let me see your ID." Patty proudly proffered her driver's license. "Yours is free", the bartender said, "it's your birthday!"
It's a tradition at most Springfield bars to give you a free drink on your birthday. It's also a Springfield tradition to stagger from bar to bar getting shitfaced drunk for free on your birthday. We drank the shots. "Oh yuck that was NASTY!" Patty said, making an awful face. Taco bought her another drink, and the bartender mixed something purple and blue. It looked like something out of Star Trek. Patty liked that one, but being her dad's daughter she's kind of a nerd herself.
The pool table was back, and the three of us shot pool. I let Patty win, but I did it badly. I was too obvious at it. Then Paul beat her. No, he beat her at pool, you violent dipshits. WTF is wrong with you guys?
Patty called her mom, who was to get her older sister, Leila, and meet us at the Dublin Pint. Or Dublin Pub. The Dublin something or other; it was in the same place D'Arcy's Pint used to be, and they were supposed to also have corned beef and cabbage all year round instead of just St Patrick's day like most Springfield restaraunts. D'Arcy's is closed on Sundays, and we had been assured that not only did they have Corned beef but the food was the same.
We later found it wasn't. The food sucked. D'Arcy's food is delicious, Dublin's corned beef wasn't cooked enough, the cabbage was almost raw, and the potatos were plain fried potatos, unlike D'Arcy's potatos. D'Arcy's has the best mashed potatos I've ever eaten.
And yes, my oldest daughter's name really is Leila. Unlike the Leela in Futurama her name is spelled properly and she has two eyes, neither one of which is in the middle of her forehead. Other than that and the purple hair she looks a lot like my oldest daughter, up to and including the boots. Imagine, the first place the word "nerd" was ever used was in a Dr. Suess book called "If I ran the zoo" were the protagonist's last name is "McGrew". How nerdy is my daughter's name? Eat your hearts out, slashdotters! Leila was born long before Futurama was conceived.
You think I'm full of shit, don't you? But if you look at the old Paxil Diaries you'll see Leila there too, and IINM Futurama wasn't on back in 2003.
Leila's a Futurama fan, but it pisses her off that they only gave Leela one eye and spelled her name wrong.
We went to the Dublin Pub or Pint or whatever to wait for Leila and her mother, and had appetizers while we waited, as we were all famished. Leila and her mother came in.
Evil-X had gained weight. A LOT of weight. And died her hair blond. She was absolutely horrid, and I thanked God that I was no longer married to this awful creature.
"I thought you didn't have to wear glasses any more?" I asked her. Leila had told me that her mother had had her eyes fixed, at least the one that wasn't crossed. I'd thought she'd had her strabismus corrected as well, the crooked eye looked straight. She said they hadn't done anything to that eye.
She had told Leila that she'd heard bad things about Dr. Yea and I should go to her doctor instead, and repeated it to me. "The problems I'm having now are from my retina being torn last year," I told her. "So your doctor wouldn't do me much good, Dr. Odin's a retina specialist."
"That's what I originally went to mine for, I had a torn retina too. That's what caused the cataract."
"Leila said you got the CrystaLens".
"I did," she said.
"But you still have to wear glasses?"
"Only for distance and closeup," she said. I didn't say anything about my vision being corrected to better than 20/20 at all distances. Clearly Dr. Yea is either extremely talented, or I was extremely lucky. Or both.
After dinner the evil one went home, and my two daughters, my future son in law, and I went to JW's for more alcoholic fun. Leila and Paul had soda, Patty had vodka and cranberry juice and I drank a beer.
As we left, Patty thanked me for not fighting with her Mom. "This was the best birthday ever!" she exclaimed.
The cat was in heat and kept waking me up all night. I was tired as hell all day Monday - but happy. The vision in my eye cleared up some over night as well.
Errata: Various links in the local paper to stories about the shooting
Man killed confronting city police (March 9)
Shooting victim a loner, Web philosopher (March 10)
Police say Geiser made threats, witnesses say shooting was execessive (March 10)
Shooting victim's troubled past well known (March 11)
Police: Taser was not an option in Saturday's shooting (March 11)
The dead man's web site
Police Beat: Woman tries to cut nurses (March 13)
Neighbors of Bel-Aire Motel afraid (March 17)
Coroner's jury rules shooting by city police was justified (April 18)