We'll See How Long This Lasts…

Last week featured a rather exciting event for me – my first trip to the Emergency Room as an adult patient. Here’s the story.

I was preparing some dinner. We’ve been integrating more healthy foods instead of “bad” ones. I was cutting one of my favorites – an avocado. I always halve them from top to bottom, spear the pit, pluck it out, and fling it off the tip into the garbage. It always works out fine. It didn’t that night. Instead, the portion of the pit I stabbed into broke away entirely, allowing me to continue thrusting forward to STAB MYSELF between the index and middle fingers of my left hand.

OW!

I got a good half inch into my flesh before I could stop myself and pull the knife back out. Immediately, in response to the pain, I shook my hand to “shake away the pain” like we all do when we smash a finger or stub a toe. That resulted in me flinging enough blood around the floor, cabinets, counters and refrigerator to make a good contender for Best Amateur CSI Crime Scene. I only noticed the spray after I brought my hand up to inspect the damage, only to find the blood still gushing out like a bright red fountain centerpiece at an expensive party.

I called out to Melissa to come quickly to the kitchen to assist me. It more accurately sounded like, “Melissa! Come here quick! HelpMeHelpMeHelpMe!…” She rushed in, saw the blood EVERYWHERE, and began to have an anxiety attack. I was pretty damned anxious, myself, come to mention it. She grabbed a chair, told me to sit in it, and suggested I stop rinsing my hand in the sink. I knew I should get all the foreign matter out I could, but after a minute I agreed and sat down. She ran to get a rag and some bandages and tape, but she had to go have a sit when she saw the blood all over, again.

After she made me apply pressure to the cut with a dry facecloth, we agreed that we should go to the ER. Calmer, now that I was clenching the rag and stopping the bleeding, I set about the work of cleaning the Crime Scene with mutli-purpose cleaner. MissyG repeatedly insisted I do that later, but I didn’t want it freaking her out any more, and didn’t want it to dry and stain. So, I sprayed and cleaned with one hand, while the other throbbed like hell. Once I was done, I had her grab some magazines, made sure I had my Insurance cards, she grabbed my wallet and work ID, and we were off. It was funny – MissyG had to buckle my seatbelt since I had no use of my left hand.

Once we parked, I walked right into the ER, breezed right past the dozen or so people waiting for the Triage/Admit area, stepped up to the window and explained that I needed help right away, and why. I made sure to flash that Hospital Employee ID quite visibly, buddy. They said, “Come on in!”

MissyG and I had a seat. The two guys working Triage focused on my situation. The one closest took the rag from me that I had been clenching. I was clenching so hard that my fingers were stuck in that position. Both nurses checked out the wound and figured that at worst I might need a single stitch – the cut was deep and narrow, but I could feel and flex my fingers ok. One of them saw that MissyG was freaking again, and tried to distract/calm her by telling a story of how he injured himself similarly. She was pale and couldn’t talk well, but still tried to put on a brave face. Finally, once the ER guys and I decided I would not need that stitch, they put sterile ointment on the cut, added gauze, and wrapped the whole thing, sending me home with more bandages and directions to keep it clean and come back if it got numb or worsened. No charge, no paperwork. How’s THAT for an intangible work benefit?

It is still healing, today. The cut was not too bad, and didn’t sever anything important. Honestly, it looks tiny, and not worthy of all the hubbub. The blood pouring out had me fooled that it was much worse than it turned out to be. I mean, it was freaking everywhere, and kept pouring out. Did I mention it was all over the damned kitchen?

MissyG is embarrassed about having had her anxiety attacks, but I’m not mad. Ultimately, she took care of me just how I needed. Oddly, in a relationship troubled by silly quarrels, real conflicts, and everything in between, we make such a good partnership when we team together and let our love rule our thoughts and actions. It’s so cheesy, but I’m glad it happened, because I think we’ve been needing a reminder of that.

Oh, there’s one more thing. Where’s my damned facecloth? That ER dude took it and just pitched it! I didn’t even notice until MissyG mentioned it the next day. Dammit.

A year has passed since Katrina devastated the Life I knew. She took it without asking, with only a little warning, and left her mark for month upon month after. It was the worst misery I had ever been in, those first few days during and directly following the storm – I feared for Missy’s safety and then her life. Was she hurt or suffering injury? Was she safe from looters who might molest her? If she was still alive and well, how would I find her?

In one day I lost my home, most of my possessions, my job, and to top it off I couldn’t even know if I had lost the most important person in my life. My misery started well in advance of Aug29, though. That stubborn woman just would not come with me, when I begged her the morning before. So, I made the hardest decision I had ever made and saved myself.

I think we know all that, though. And we all know that Missy and I are fine and living in Austin, now, somewhat lighter in the way of property… which brings me to the real purpose of my post. This is about me saying thanks to those that helped before, during, and after. I’m going to make an effort to recall and express gratitude to all those who gave us funds (which I will mostly decline to list, here), furniture, time, and love. If you helped us and I fail to mention you, let me apologize in advance. It is my intention to note everyone, but my memory may be faded or unclear. I welcome any corrections one might offer.

Adam, Colin, Greg, Matt
For giving what information you could and pulling for me to keep my income. For being the reason I even wanted to go back to that place.

Snap, Laila’s mom, and Laila
For your over-the-phone navigation help during my evacuation to Lafayette – I might have made it without you, but it would have taken even longer than the nine hours it did. Thank you for being a beacon of the Familiar in Lafayette, and for your emotional support in the middle of a mall far, far from my woman crying on my phone asking when it would stop.

Matthew, Jessica, Taylor, and Camille
For opening your home to first me, then to Missy, and our special needs cat. You fed us, you gave up rooms for us, you were patient despite being besieged with a dozen people and animals that otherwise disrupted your daily lives. You did more than shelter us – you helped on all fronts. You reminded me Family is not always a four letter word. EVERY one of you is generous and loving and I will not soon forget it. You are welcome with us anytime.

Maria and Donald, Luke, Laura
For struggling with us through it all. For picking up my washer and bringing it to Lafayette for us to use. For offering to loan me big money in my time of financial need – I declined, but it was so reassuring to know the offer was open. For helping rescue things out of our apartment, and for making the drive into town to do it, in the wee hours. For giving me the opportunity to remember to be charitable.

Melissa and Dusti
For loving me and Missy so much you did everything you could to call her and convince her to get out of Harm’s Way. For being there for me on the phone when you yourselves were anxious and panicked.

Red Cross
For your generous check for us in Florida, and for our hotel stay in Orlando. Bless you.

Colonial Bank Manager guy
Who, upon hearing my story and watching me go on trying to smile while I worked hundreds of miles away from my recently missing girlfriend, both of us hundreds of miles from our destroyed home, gifted me $75 to help us with “whatever you may need – take her to a good dinner”.

Nicole, Debbie, Jodie, Marietta
For taking care of Missy in Orlando while I had to traipse all over the damned state.

Mom
For your emotional support. For your donations of bed, end tables, water cooler, magazine rack, and work pants fund. For sheltering and feeding Missy and Prissy and me upon our return from Florida. For being there in Metairie for us while we tried to quickly get our lives back on track.

Gary Jr.
For rescuing my monitor. For being the best scout we could hope for while we were away in Florida. For supporting your mother emotionally and doing whatever you could during the month after the crisis. You deserve much respect.

Gary Sr.
For taking care of after-storm problems and clean-up for Shirley. You didn’t have to lift a finger for your ex-wife and son, but you did, anyway. You deserve respect for that, as well.

Siemmens guy at the Red Cross center in Orlando
For giving me your card and telling me to look you up if I decided to settle in Orlando.

Shawn
For a pimp fabulous TV, our main entertainment on low budgets. For patiently storing Missy’s (and my) stuff once we could rescue it from the molding hell-hole that was our home. For letting us stay with you – a hard floor with pillows was better than no place to sleep at all. And, as you know, the floor was softer in some places than others! ; )

Kristi and Woody
For a coffee table that serves as a neat TV stand. For tools and supplies. For a CD/DVD rack we shamefully haven’t unpacked our media onto, yet. For solace in a time of uncertainty – you were both steady and unflappable.

Larry
For understanding that with as little time as we had left in that broken-down, beaten-dog of a town we could not make the time to see everyone before we left “for good.” Sorry I missed you, my brother.

Michael and Rhonda, Heather and Gonzo
For trying to locate Missy, for letting us share your apartment (twice!), for searching for apartments for us, for helping us move, for scouting out Austin for us, for sharing your West Coast Care Package. For being our social circle we can depend on in a town full of strangers. For showing us Freddie’s, the Alamo, and a dozen other AusTex places. For pointing us to the Apartment Locator that helped us find Camden. You are not the only reason we came here, but I sure am glad you are here with us. Much like Family and siblings, we quarrel. But you are that: Family. And Chosen Family at that.

Doug
For talking on the phone while I had to drag my ass all over Florida for a month. For joining us in moving. For driving the truck. For plates. For opening up to Missy and me and getting to know us better. I said it before – of all of us that left NOLA, you had the LEAST need/reason to do so, but I am glad you did. You and the Kids should come around more.

Camille and Nick
For your offer to let us stay with you. For constant reassurance that everything would be OK if we up-rooted to Austin.

Dawn and Andy and the West Coast Crew
For computer desks, flatware, and anything else your crew rushed out to share with the Austin refugees.

Darron G.
For even considering hiring me without a degree. For hiring me for one of the best jobs I have had. You and this job have had a great positive impact on my new-to-Austin experience, and I am glad to know you and work for you.

Last, but never least, thank you to:
Melissa.
People see us fight and squabble so often, I wonder if they really know how much I truly care for you and enjoy your companionship and love. We fought over and over about when to bolt from NOLA to Austin, but I knew that I was going to be wherever you are, no matter what. Katrina was so hard on you. Thank you for making it through, and doing whatever it took to reunite with me. Thank you for supporting me during the times I felt I had fallen down a well. For staying strong enough to make it through all the difficulty, hardship, and bullshit. And for pushing hard to get us to our new lives, here. I love you deeply.

Have I left anything or anyone out? Probably. Rest assured, it was unintentional. Drop me a comment and I will be sure to update the post and sing your praises.

Peace,
M

You always suspected I thought it. Now you know it’s true.

This site rocks. Feel free to use it to show your friends/enemies how much better YOU are.

Just recently, my Honda CR-V’s odometer rolled through it’s 100,000th mile! What, you might ask, did I do to celebrate the occasion? Well, that’s not a short answer.

First, let me praise Honda Motor Company. They make well built vehicles that some find pricey, but almost always are a good buy. They tend to hold onto a high resale value. Sure, every car can be expected to need some repairs by the time it’s a decade old. Rarely do they leave their drivers stranded on the side of the road. Mine has served me well in the years I have had it, needing few minor fixes. Plus, I really like their colors – it always privately pleased me that my and MissyG’s car’s colors were identical, too. All in all, kudos to the big H.

So, 100K rolled around. Honestly, I confess to missing the actual event. I saw it would be coming, one day on the way home from somewhere, and made a mental note to watch for it in the next few days. I promptly forgot that and the Big Event came and went right under my nose. C’est la vie. Anyway, I decided that it was time for a Professional Detailing. She was due one, since before katrina, and lord knows she certainly served well during that multi-thousand-mile period, carrying all sorts of things she normally wouldn’t, collecting all manner of smells and funk my normal commute would not incur. MissyG promised that she would get me one, but bills being what they are for her, well, it just never happened. So, I took it upon myself to go pay for a good detailing. I was excited – I have always done this sort of thing, myself. Detailing is a luxury that I have avoided paying for, in order to hold onto my money to spend it on more important things. Narrow-minded folk who have never had to worry about such frugality would, I’m sure, call that “Jewish”, meaning cheap. To those who think along those lines: how lucky for you that for both of us to be as generous and indulgent as we are, only one of us didn’t have to keep his eye on the bottom line. Back to the detailing… they did an alright job and the interior looked pretty clean, and I was feeling good about it. Nice!

Next, Honda had issued an emissions recall for a list of cars that invluded mine. It was nothing serious, and it had the positive upshot of providing me with the following for free: oil change, oil filter, rotor, ditributor cap, spark plugs, plug wires, and emissions check. Awesome!! My car had just that month started to simply kill after a few minutes of driving, and I expected that the tune-up would take care of that nicely. It seemed no big deal. When it would happen, I would simply click my transmission into Neutral, turn the key, the motor would start, I would pop it back in Drive, and I’d be on my way. Still, I expected that to be remedied by the free tune-up. So, I left my car at the Honda Dealership to handle those adjustments, and picked it up later that day. Feeling good!

And then the engine killed like it had been doing, while on my way home, the next day. “OK,” I thought, “No prob, Bob. I’ll just pop it into N, crank it, and be on my way without even stopping. I’ll take it back to Honda and get it checked later.”

*WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG WITH A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT*
No matter how badly you may be tempted, even in a fit of MISEARBLY BAD judgement, DO NOT EVER PUT YOUR TRANSMISSION INTO REVERSE WHILE ROLLING FORWARD. Never. Not even just a little.

Yeah, I slipped on past N right into R and, can you imagine, the drivetrain did not like that one bit. “KUH-CHUNCKK!!!,” my car said. “Sonofabitch,” I replied. I coasted to a stop, put the thing in Park, and turned the key. After a couple of sweaty, nervous seconds, it revved to life and I was back on my way. However, that wasn’t all my car had to say. “Click-click-click…” it now repeated, over and over, faster and faster matching my mph, just faint enough to miss, just loud enough to let me know I had broken something expensive. “Crap,” was all I replied. I made it home and went inside, feeling yucky on my gut.

I made an appointment to get it checked by Honda. I had to wait two days. Once they got it, they took two days to investigate. All they could say was that SOMETHING was wrong with the transmission (they didn’t know what), and they would sell me a new one, installed, for ~$4000. Wow. I needed a second opinion. I drove it straight home, fearing every mile I drove could be making it worse. Come Monday, I was able to make an appointment for the next day to bring it to a transmission specialist near work. They went for a test drive with me, and their initial guess-timate was that it might be axels, which might cost as little as $500. The next day, they decided it was a problem inside the transmission, after all, and that it may come to $1500-1800.

To make a long story short, I got the car back Friday and the bill had grown to $2525.00. Wow. I feel they were straight with me and they aren’t crooks. And I suppose the price is fair, but it sucks to watch the massive hit to my bank account, which is now much lower than I prefer to feel safe. Still, it’s good to be back in control of where I go, at my own convenience. MissyG knows how that is.

It seems that selecting Reverse while rolling forward can break your 4th gear really well. Also, at 100k miles, I needed new all new belts and a new motor mount, too. In the end, it means two things: 1) I’m down two-and-a-half large. Ouch. and 2) Hey, I have a freshly rebuilt transmission and all new belts! And now, the only conversations my car and I have are about the hotties we spot while tooling around town. Not to worry – those conversations are always one-sided.

Many thanks go out to my good friend Mikey, who repeatedly insisted that I didn’t have to keep buying him lunches when he drove me to lunch (and to home) every day. And while I agreed that giving rides IS what friends do, I certainly aimed to make him happier to do so whenever I “greased the wheels of Indusrty” by picking up the tab most of the time. Thanks, again.

One last thing… while we are on the subject of cars, I should mention that MnR and I went to see Pixar’s CARS. It was fun. You should catch it before it drives off…

In the words of Popeye, “I”ve had all I can stand and I can’t stands no more!” And to paraphrase Mad Max, “Cingular – I thought you were going to be my Dog of War – You Disappoint me… Puppy…”

Most everything about my Austin experience has been Good (yes, in a Martha Stewart “Good Thing” sort of way). Notably, however, ever since we moved into the apartment here, my cell phone reception has… how shall I say?… SUCKED MAJOR DONKEY DONG. I even went so far as to buy a used cell in a Make and Model that I KNOW works here because M-n-R’s seem to do so pretty fine. And, while I do like my new cell (Sony Ericsson T-637, if you were wondering), I would rank its in-my-apartment performance just about two notches above DONKEY DONG. I mean how many conversations should a man in his own home have that go like this? – ME: “(whatever I was saying)”, THEM: “I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up. Are you on a cell phone?” And what kills me is that mere seconds later, I can be in exactly the same location, without moving an inch, and get OK reception.

So, what’s the point? Well, you now know the proud owner of a new VOIP phone setup. I bought into a year’s plan for phone service over the Internet for $199, and got three months free. That’s a pretty good deal – I get phone service for about $13/month, and can call anywhere in the U.S. for free. I have tested it and it seems to do well, so far. As with all things, though, keep in mind the title of this Blog – We’ll See How Long This Lasts. This, too may end up being a futile purchase that winds up just pissing me off. And I guess that will be alright, too, b/c I’ll post a rant about THAT, then. Who knew signal loss could be so much fun?

So, if you know me, please do call me on my crappy-signal-when-at-home cell or email me to get the HOME phone number. I guess folks should continue to try to find me using my cell number, and if I’m home I’ll say “Hey, can you call me on the other number”.

In the words of Emperor Jospeh II from Amadeus, “Well… there it is.”

My mind is clearer, now.

At last, all too well, I can see where we all soon will be. Jesus, you’ve started to believe the things they say of you . You REALLY DO believe this talk of God is TRUE! All the good you’ve done will soon be swept away. YOU’VE begun to matter more than the THINGS YOU SAY.

Listen, Jesus, I don’t like what I see. All I ask is that you listen to me, and remember I’ve been your right hand man all along. You have set them all on fire. They think they’ve found the *New Messiah*, and they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong. I remember when this WHOLE THING began. NO talk of *God* then – we called you a man. And believe me – my admiration for you hasn’t died… But, every word you say today gets twisted ’round some other way, and they’ll hurt you if they think you’ve lied.

(Nazareth, your Famous Son should’ve stayed a Great Unknown. Like his father, carving wood, he’d have made good – tables, chairs and oaken chests would’ve suited Jesus best. He’d have caused nobody harm, no-one alarm.)

Listen, Jesus, do you care for your race? Don’t you see we must keep in our place? We are OCCUPIED! Have you forgotten how PUT-DOWN we are? I am frightened by the crowd, for we are getting much too loud, and they’ll crush us if we go too far. Listen, Jesus, to the warning I give. (PLEASE remember that I want us to live, but, it’s sad to see our chances weakening with every hour.) ALL YOUR FOLLOWERS ARE BLIND! (Too much heaven on their minds!) It was beautiful, but now it’s sour. Yes! It’s ALL gone SOUR!

Listen, Jesus, to the warning I give! PLEASE REMEMBER that I want us TO LIVE! Come on! Come on, and listen to me!

When we were still in NOLA, I remember seeing FoodTV coverage of Austin’s annual Spam festival, SPAMARAMA, and being disappointed that it was so far away. Well, not any more, cap’n! I now live less than ten miles from the event, baby, and we plan on going to witness the Processed-Pressed-Spiced-Pork-Product goodness! (If you know me, you know my love for culturally-popular commercial products – see my previous posts about Coca-cola.)

SEE!-the mighty Spam-toss event! TASTE!-the endless plethora of dishes using Spam as the main ingredient! SMELL!-more Spam than people should normally be surrounded by, unless you live in Hawaii.

Come, join in our fun if you live in Austin. Hell, come join us even if you don’t.

WHAT: SPAM-A-RAMA
WHERE: Here, at Waterloo Park
WHEN: Saturday, April 1st, Noon-6pm – (Call us to determine when we actually plan to be there…)

That is all.

**** UPDATE – April 01, 2006 ****
Well, two things need to be said at this time.

ONE – The Spamarama is actually reasonably LAME. Yeah, you heard me. I said it. Lame. What did this WONDEROUS festival feature? For starters, it had about ten or fifteen booths/tents of vendors selling crafts, cheap jewelry, and other such things nobody needs. Next were the food tents – there were about ten of those, each selling some okay looking stuff, but not ONE of them selling SPAM dishes. At Spamarama. WTF? There was a big stage featuring a loud, forgettable band at the far end of the festival area. Another huge tent had two LONG lines feeding into it. Each line was SUPPOSED to gain tent access to browse though all the Spam Cook-off contestants, and sample each of their dishes. Yeah, well, MY line just let me in and allowed me to try to peer ove r the shoulders of the line from the other direction, all of them blocking ready access to almost every contestant. Thanks! Almost halfway to the stage there was a building with restrooms and a Daiquiri tent. MissyG and I sat waiting near it, entertained only by the bees that took up residence in her lemonade. The nerve! They didn’t even ask if they could share. Anyway, what were we waiting for?

TWO – There was a Spamburger Eating Contest to be held at 4:15 in front of the big stage. And guess who signed up for it – your buddy Miltor. Here’s the deal – each of the contestants was given a bun, bottle of water (they forgot me on that one), and an unopened can of your favorite pressed ham product and mine – SPAM. The contest was to be the quickest to open the can, slap the whole thing between the bun, and then eat it all up. Man, the guy next to me must have been practicing for weeks! That, or he recently ate most of his meals in a prison mess hall. Either way, he was downing that Spamburger faster than I could believe. Where did it go? How did he get it down? You won’t be surprised to know he won. You MIGHT be surprised to know I placed THIRD! It was, after all, only one can. Okay, truth be told, that ONE can splashed into my stomach like a meteor made of ham and gel hitting the ocean. Ugh. No more Spam for me for a while. And maybe no more Spamarama – as far as I’m concerned, there was very little to do or see.

Now, anyone up for the Gallon Challenge?

I have Good News to report, but it’s not 100% official and confirmed, yet. But, I figured, why not PRE-post about it and, for those that don’t already know, build some level of suspense?

So, news to come soon!

P.S. It would behoove you people to at least pretend to care. Bastiches.

**** UPDATE ****
The news is that I got a new job. I was fortunate enough to interview for a Desktop Support position at a South Austin hospital, and I got the job. I start 8am Feb27. It’s not another in a long line of temp jobs, and it has benefits!! I hope I enjoy it – I met the rest of the crew and they seem like friendly people to work with. It’s right by the apartment, so I can continue going home for lunch, which I definitely enjoy. I truly hope it works out well. I have no reason to be apprehensive about it, but I guess I when you’ve been a temp as long as I have, the idea of getting the kind of permanent job I have been looking for years seems like it’s not real.

Anyway, I think it’ll be good. Either way, we’ll see… Wish me luck.

Every now and then I get a need to just submerge myself into a deep, blue pool of sad, sad song. Miserable, even. Almost never am I that depressed, myself. But for some reason it feels good to immerse myself in someone else’s dark blues, just for a listen or two, and empathize long enough for an errant tear or two to escape.

“I lost myself in sorrow,
I lost myself in pain.
I lost myself in gravity,
Memory leave,
Leave”
– R.E.M. – “Leave”
The idea of losing oneself in sorrow and pain that is strong as gravity, weighing you down – awesome and brilliant. Then urging Memory to leave – futile, desperate, weary, overwhelmed.

“…but this is the last day of our acquintance
I will meet you later in somebody’s office
I’ll talk but you won’t listen to me
I know your answer already”
– Sinead O’Connor – “The Last Day of Our Acquaintance”
What a fantastic and succinct way to describe the depressing inevitability of the end of a relationship for one who is still in love with their partner. They are powerless to say anything to change what is happening, and aware of it. That’s the blues, people.

Along those same lines, feeling powerless while you watch love leave…
“I can feel you slipping away
And I can’t think of anything to say
That will turn you around and make you stay
I can feel you slipping away, slipping away”
– Information Society – “Slipping Away”
OK, this one ain’t that profound, but it is still quietly sad.

“I’ve been down-hearted baby
Ever since the day we met”
– B.B. King – “How Blue Can You Get”
Wow. What a way to start a song. What a way to start a relationship.
Wow.

As I suggesteed, these situations aren’t mine, so I don’t sympathize. However, they are so powerfully written, I definitely feel I empathize. And that, my friend, is great art to be appreciated.

So , anyone have any really sad song lyrics to offer? No submissions of “WildFire”, however sad in its own 70s-country sort of way, will be accepted.

Here is an UPDATE that nobody has been waiting for to THIS post about my soda hobby. I realized that I failed to list a number of sodas I have had, plus NEW ones have come out since then that should be added to the list.

ITEMS I HAVE HAD, BUT FORGOT TO LIST:
Orange Crush
Crush Strawberry
Slice (orange)
Slice Grape
Slice Red (what fruit, exactly is this?)
Slice Strawberry
Slice Pineapple
Slice Apple
Slice Peach
Slice Lemon-lime
Squirt
Surge
Teem

NEW ITEMS I HAVE HAD:
Pibb Xtra
Black Cherry Vanilla Coke
Black Cherry Vanilla Diet Coke
Mountain Dew Pitch Black II (sour and yucky)

ITEMS I STILL NEED TO TRY:
7up Plus – Cherry
7up Plus – Island Fruit
Mountain Dew Caffeine Free (what’s the point?)

That’s about it. I know this isn’t a very “what’s up with Milton’s Life” kind of post, nor is it likely to inspire very many comments. But, hey, it’s not always ABOUT YOU, man.

Yes!

Now THIS is my kind of news story.

And HERE are some pics! Aw-right! Not just two chicks making with the drunken nookie, but two CHEERLEADERS! And they were slamming on the stall walls and yelling out explicit phrases!

Glen Quaqmire could not be reached for comment, but his spokes-person provided the following quote:
“Giggity giggity giggity!!!”

*** UPDATE ***
I just found THIS LINK with VIDEO! (No, not of the actual event, but we have to take what we can get, when we can get it…)

Confirmation that my PREVIOUS POST was justified and that it’s time to go.

SAFE?

I just wish I had a job all lined up already like MissyG, yo.

Whoa.
From the complete lack of Comments on that last post of mine it looks like I bummed people out, freaked them out, or scared them away. Not that I was looking for it, but nobody even left an easy to say, “It’ll all be OK, Milton” comment. Wow. Sorry, folks.

I was stressing, BIG TIME (couldn’t tell, could you?). And it didn’t help that I felt most of life and time being out of my control. Rush here! Go there! Get that done! Do not pass Go! Do not collect $2000 (thanks, FEMA)! But you only have until X:00, because every business closes in the next hour!

I’m feeling stronger and more optimistic about our situation, (for) now.

I have regained perspective that while I am less fortunate than most around me (especially at my new temp job, where practically everyone had NO damage, or maybe some lost shingles or ruined sheds), there are HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS out there who have no work, no car, no home, no money, no family to take care of them, and no light at the end of their tunnel. And while we haven’t made it through to where we want to be, yet, I realize we are “blessed”. Heart-felt gratitude goes to every person who has helped us be as blessed as we are, including ourselves!

Here’s the thing – while I ain’t no wussy, I’ve never been Mr. Macho Manly-Man, either. I am the type of guy who seeks and relies on the psychological support of my circle of friends and family in times of crisis and doubt. This event has hit me about as hard as or harder than anything else that comes to mind. And while I am normally a reasonably happy, emotionally secure man, my current losses and situation have knocked me for a loop, something fierce. It’s perfectly normal to experience Fear and Insecurity in GOOD times, when they serve to fuel caution and good sense to keep us safe. In this Disaster, they have made a mad grab for power, and sometimes it’s all I can do to keep them at bay. And a few of those times I haven’t been able to. I am showing symptoms of emotional trauma. To add insult to injury, I didn’t go through events HALF as bad as MissyG, but she has worked past her trauma and I have not. I guess I experience it and work it out differently. Friends help. Venting helps. Being rooted, again, might help.

Good news helps, so I welcome ANY good news ANYBODY has about anything – even if you just want to tell me you saved a lot of money on car insurance!

Here’s some good news that my brain has finally allowed to sink-in, even though MissyG told me this stuff, already:
It is SUGGESTED by FEMA’s website and on the phone with them that FEMA may provide additional rent/repair assistance for up to 18 months. Well, hell! If that’s TRUE and DOES happen, there may be no better time for MissyG and me to try a new start in another city/state than now. If it’s NOT true, or that suddenly gets yanked, well, hell – we’ll have to figure something out. If attempts at getting Desktop Support work in Austin fail, does anybody have any recommendations for a lucrative career shift for me that won’t require either school time before or jail time after?

P.S. This bit is for you slackers out in Austin – one of you please get a damned job, will you? Criminy! How do you expect to have us come out there and have you support us watching soaps and eating bon-bons all day if none of you bring home the bacon? Chop-chop!

I awoke from nightmares a few times last night.

In the last one, the one I recall clearly, Missy and I were in the (for now) hobbled, limping city that is Metairie and another hurricane was possibly coming our way. What to do?! We couldn’t stay – the city was fragile and weakend by Katrina, and even a lesser storm could be catastrophe if it passed over or near us. We couldn’t leave – everybody else who had returned would be leaving, too, causing traffic jams that would leave us stranded on the highway after all our gas ran out. Plus, where would we go – the missing 50% of NOLA’s population was already taking up all the safe harbor of hotels!

Then I woke up and felt the waking fear of moving to another, more disaster-safe city, but doing so so without the guarantee of a secured income. What good does it do to jump to the safety of a new home in another place, I thought, if I can’t pay for it, and if the “well runs dry” before I find a new “stream”, now we’re in a strange place, safe from hurricanes, but no way to pay the rent and electricity? Add to that the need to rush to the new city for fear of missing opportunity to find jobs and apartments before everyone else who left scoops them up.

This anxiety, I hope, will fade. I make decisions and take actions to help secure my safety and security. Yes. It may all work out well, especially if I do what needs to be done to make it do so, like aggessively job seraching in Austin, and even going there to help that endeavor.

For the record, though, I want to go back to feeling safe, again.

**Update**
OK, I’m at my new temp job, feeling the familiar, however small, comfort of having a task to occupy me that I am good at. I must admit that since Katrina my state of mind can swing high and low quite a bit more than it used to – I am by nature a happy person. So, I’m swinging back toward Up, just now. I’ll see if I can stay there.

So, unexpectedly, I lost about 10-12 pounds since Katrina hit!

It’s the new Katrina (C) Diet:
– cereal or a bagel for breakfast
– anxiety and uncertainty due to homelessness coupled with working through lunch to get the PCs you are rolling-out done so you can maybe get back to Orlando and not have to spend another damned night alone in a hotel 200 miles from your girlfriend, AGAIN
– and a sensible meal for dinner

Truthfully, food, one of my chiefest pleasures in Life, has lost a little bit of its appeal. I’m by no means eating just bread and water, but I’m just not as full-on excited about food as I used to be, ever since Katrina. Snap has expressed similar feelings, too. I’m sure that this is part of an overall depression due to our lives (as we knew them) being yanked away, stripped like a car in the Projects, and then returned to us. I am also sure that we will one day get back to feeling like we used to. I hope I can continue my weight loss success AND love food, again – tempering both to my advantage. It would be nice to be more slim, healthy, and fit, and still enjoy great meals and snacks.

Maybe MissyG and I can find a nice apartment complex that has its own exercise room for free! That would be good. Here’s to that!

1) For those that don’t know, I am alive and physically well, and with MissyG in Orlando, Florida.

2) My apartment is uninhabitable, and will be so for many weeks or months. We lost the majority of our possessions. Luckier than some. Worse than others.
ROSENCRANTZ
…On fortune’s cap we are not the very button.
HAMLET
Nor the soles of her shoe?
ROSENCRANTZ
Neither, my lord.
HAMLET
Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours?
GUILDENSTERN
‘Faith, her privates we.
HAMLET
In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet.

3) I am working, but my daily job left for Houston, and when I called them, told me, metaphorically, “Hey! Milt! How ya’ been? We should get together sometime. Uh, don’t call us – we’ll call you. Yoink!!” -click. More on that later. I am unhappy with the Project I am working on “in and around Orlando”, but it’s money, so, I work.

4) MissyG and prissy cat were, for all I knew, missing/dead (or worse) for two days. Yeah, try to cope with THAT. Those were the worst two days of my life, I think.

5) So, I am homeless and have practically no job to go back to. Joy.

6) I am pretty sure I have some low-level of Post-traumatic stress disorder, now. Or maybe I’m Depressed. I’ll have to look it up.

I promise more, later. Tune in again, and you’ll hear the horror stories, the trials and tribulations, most of which my audience is ALSO going through. I realize that I am, by no means, alone in these tragedies, so I’m sure my readers will sympathize. Hey, I even have some good news/stories to temper the bad. Hooray for the Good!

-MiltoR

It seems to me that Google just keeps spitting out Internet-y goodness at every turn. Even their beta versions of things seem great! They consistently produce utilities and apps that are resoundingly useful and well, just neato.

Who wouldn’t love Google Maps, Froogle, Google Language Tools, Google Gmail, and now Google Talk (new!)

I, for one, WELCOME our new Google Overlords!

Yeah, there are some who are wary and critical of Google. “Feh!” I say. Soon enough they will change their name to Cyberdyne Systems Corporation, but nobody will notice since they are too busy using those great Google apps. Then they’ll launch SkyNet, and none of us will be around to worry about it anymore, because the Terminators will arrive. (Los Angeles woman Sarah Connor could not be reached for comment.)

So, which is YOUR favorite Google feature/app?

This happened at G-n-H’s move.

A weird looking bee (mostly black, but not a wasp or hornet) landed quietly on Pickle’s nipple, and proceeded to stay there way past Pickle’s tolerance for stinging insects on his titty. H then came out and soothingly communed with the bee, convincing it to move on its bee way. Good work, Hippy.

OK, so after the Big Gonzo Move, today, I stopped into a gas/convenience store for some refreshment. While in line, I see in the candy bar area two new variants of Almond Joy, one with lime-flavored coconut, one with passion-fruit, with a sign over both letting me know I could get “2 for $1”. Knowing MissyG likes treats like this, I pick up one of each for her and place them on the counter.

Mr. Counter Worker scans my drink, BOOP. Then he scans the passion-fruit Almond Joy, BOOP. Then he scans the lime Almond Joy – …no boop. Again, and no boop. Oh, Jezie-Crezie, here comes bullshit.

Mr. CW – “That doesn’t ring up in the System, so I can’t sell it to you.”
Me – “OK, just ring up two passion-fruit and give me the lime.”
Mr. CW – “No. I can’t do that. It’s all tied to Inventory, so it would come up wrong. Sorry.”
Me – pointing, “Well, there’s the sign that says how much it is. Does that help?”
Mr. CW – “No, if it isn’t in the System I can’t ring it up, or the Inventory will be wrong.”

Look, I know it’s just a silly candy bar that, frankly, NOBODY really needs the calories from. But this story isn’t really about candy. It’s about retail incompetence and shitty service. Why is YOUR store’s correct inventory MY problem? If you don’t want to sell it, REMOVE it from my sight and take down the sign. If you do want to sell it, take my money, give me the product, and work out your item-not-found issues on your own time. If you’re a stupid grunt who works for minimum wage and you want to do no more than you have to, just take money for products on display and we can move on with our days, without aggravation, BY SELLING ME THE CANDY. If you’re a stupid grunt who hates your stupid job with its broken Inventory System, why not gladly mess up “The Man’s” Inventory, AND SELL ME THE CANDY? You know, if it’s not in the System, it can’t be in the Inventory, so there can be no Count to mess up, anyway.

In the end, all this ass-hat did was piss me off by choosing the most difficult path for both me and him. Ooo, he must feel flushed with power, now, having so vigorously defended Exxon’s Almond Joy stock from yet another attempt at purchase. I bet he must have had half-wood as I left scowling, having weilded his Right of Refusal over me. “First, that guy’s candy. Next, The WORLD!!!!!! Mu-hah-haaaah!!!!! Then I can move out of my Mom’s garage!”

Was it always like this?