But I lost track of what I was supposed to be outraged about. It was either Donald Trump, Obama, the Queen, the Pope, or some late night talk show host I don't watch. Also, someone has a job they shouldn't and someone else got fired. Then someone with or without a penis is super brave because of they way they wore that dress, and everyone who is giving the dress a standing O is really applauding themselves for not thinking, "isn't this a bit weird that we're all clapping about this?" I'm also supposed to be angry that there are some people, somewhere, who aren't clapping. Unless they belong to the "Religion of Peace" (TM), because that would be racist? I may need to be out raged at same-sex people getting married, although I'm supposed to support single moms and women who leave their husbands, and men who get married multiple times, even though they lose money and access to their kids when they do it. I'm supposed to think owning a gun is child abuse, when not having a gun in a known "gun-free zone" is a death warrant. I should be outraged at men who make women cry at the office, but not at women who make men punch holes in walls at the office. And I'm supposed to be outraged at that as well. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTRRRRRRRAAAAGGGGGGGEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDD!
(mad)daddy got hisself a fitbit. I know that it's kinda standard middle-age, but it's neat and I like it. I have been, like, totally slacking off since December of 2012 and it's time to try and reverse the decline. I figure having the NSA peer quietly into my activity levels is a good way to motivate me to get off my ass and not be one of the first useless eaters sent to the ovens and Soylent factory when the shit goes down. I also got a bike rack for my car and a used bike that I intend to use. I'm so determined to use it that I got padded undies so I won't wear through my taint and become a hermaphobeicide. Of course, since purchasing all of this shit I've spent exactly 15 minutes exercising and 11 whole days lying on the beach drinking beer. But it was light beer, and cheap tequila too, so no harm no foul. Now that I'm back in the Mcmahonsion, it's time to right the ship, and today I started my new routine of at least a one-hour workout per day plus a dog walk or two, plus maybe a bike ride. I have to lose ten pounds immediately just to get back to my normal fat ass self, and another 10 to get back to where I was the last time I recorded my weight in a tracker, in October of 2012, when I was 196. I'm giving myself 90 days. ...Aaaaaaand of course, of those 90 days, I already have 9 when I will be on the road. Three of those days I will be able to do some kind of workout, but redeye flights really mess me up, so I'm thinking I'll just starve myself for the other six travel days. I'm also trying to keep my brain healthy by trying to keep off the innertubes, if you haven't noticed. It's one of those things. I used this here blog to keep my mental health up for so many years, but as everything gets worse and worse I want to vent less and less. Why shovel more shit onto the pile? In other news, I recently found out that the Mercedes Mixtapes never went away. To be clear, I have the first six. I downloaded them when they first started doing them and then I guess things just drifted on and I forgot about them. But, while they aren't really back, they're back to me. So there. Fun stuff. There's always at least one good song on them. That's it, that's all the news. I'll be back, I think.
It's June 1st and 54 degrees. Where's my global warming? Today is Monday and I'm in paralysis by analysis mode, so I'm posting on this blog that I've been pretty much ignoring over the last couple of years. I honestly feel that I have so much to get done that I can't possibly do it all in the time allotted, so why bother. This is not good. I know this is not good. I just can't seem to get off my ass and get things rolling. I've got deadlines on top of deadlines, but there's really no punishment for missing them, so I'm letting them loom over me. The rain and cold isn't helping. In fact, it's making it worse. At least, when it was hot and sunny I got things done. The porch got fixed and painted, the new lawn mower got bought, the car got washed and waxed, little things got crossed off the list. Now I'm at the point where the things that need to be done are messy, take a long time and are inconveniently complicated or just plain expensive. Plus, I'll be out of town for two days. And that brings me to another point. I have no plans. Normally, working without a plan was OK, because maddmom had a plan. But now, maddmom's plan is that she's too busy to have a plan. So I am shit out of luck and don't have a plan. I think that's reneging on our deal. But that's another story. It's 10:30 now and all I've done is work with one customer and write this post. I should have done my exercises and changed the oil in my car. But it's cold and rainy and everything is taking longer than it should. So I won't do that today. Either, probably, if you ask. So what am I going to do? A couple of half-assed calls for work, then off to family activities until bed. Food will be cooked in the crock pot, because of another part of the deal that has gone south. We may never get to eat it. Tomorrow I am gone, the next day, gone. That leaves Thursday and Friday to catch up on work, plus get all the things done that used to get done when I wasn't home by someone who was home. This isn't what I signed up for. I need a plan
David Letterman was only funny because you were up too late and you were stoned. He was a terrible interviewer, and a worse straight man. His sidekicks were ALWAYS funnier than he was, and you could tell he hated them. He's a typical reticent Hoosier; crabby, no sense of humor, less emotion, unfriendly to outsiders, and difficult. This is why I fit right in here.
It's warm out! I am convinced that this is going to be a great summer. Even, and I mean this, even if I'm too busy to do anything that I want. I've got Leonard Cohen playing in the background, I have a late 60's British sports car in various levels of diss assembly in the garage, I avoided the post-Derby hangover by the skin of my Tequila-soaked teeth, and my workout routine appears to be paying dividends, In other words, things are going swimmingly today. I need a little money, but I'm not too mad at anyone. I have a company-paid mini vacation coming up. I have another kid, Dangeresque, in the National Honor Society. At my age I may have liver failure and skin cancer, but my cholesterol is under control and I just got an OK deal on extra life insurance. Besides, we're all going to die sometime. At any rate, I wasn't sick before I went to the doctor, and if he didn't tell me I was dying, then I'm not. Fuck the news! Seriously, I haven't felt this positively about things in a long time. Time to fuck some things up.
When you think about the nonsense that is Earth Day these days, remember that one of the rigleaders behind this new-style religion is Ira Einhorn.
Some people want everyone in the world to bend to their will, and thinks anyone who doesn't deserves to die.
The rest of us just want people to stop littering, to have water that's safe to drink, fish and game that we can eat, and a generally nicer quality of life.
Only one of us is called "environmentalist".
I cannot believe how some people can get away with doing just an absolutely crappy job. I mean, I'm by no means some type-A try-hard asshole who lives for my job, but I at the very least, do enough to keep on top of things. I'm beginning to see that most people actually do as little as possible as often as possible. I've considered this before, but I usually talked myself out of it. I usually ended up thinking I was paranoid, or overly negative, or even thinking that it was MY responsibility to get the work done. Today I've realized that I am responsible only for what I'm responsible for, nothing else. I can't manage a process that is outside of any responsibility, and I can't manage people who I don't manage. It's not that I can't push or encourage these people to do a better job. I can. I will. But without some kind of structure, all I am is a cheerleader. I'm a television commercial, entertaining, somewhat persuasive, a little informative, but ultimately a distraction. My motivation to get my work done is fear. Fear for my family, my career, my bank account. Straight up, if I don't perform to a minimum standard, I believe that I'll end up unemployed and in the poor house. I'd consider myself paranoid, but it's happened to me before. Even when I've been performing above standard. I've wasted almost an entire week of my life waiting for someone else to do a job that directly relates to my bottom line. I have no recourse but to wait. Usually, if someone is a shitty worker, like a contractor who doesn't show up, or a salesman who doesn't perform, I can try someone else. In this case, I can't. I would believe it's organizational culture, but there's multiple organizations involved. Day after day, the same shit. I know I'm complaining, maybe even whining. But it's my second day sitting in a hotel, away from my family, waiting for someone three layers removed to DO THEIR FUCKING JOB. Because the minute they do theirs, I will be responsible for doing mine. Or I won't get paid. They get paid no matter what. Fuckers.