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Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA
I don’t know what the hell’s going on around here, but lately I’ve been absolutely surrounded by people who seem to think that they have some sort of mandate to be in my fricking way.
Now, I can’t say where these putzknucklers are getting their ‘information’ from, exactly. Last time I checked, there’s nothing in the American Constitution that reads:
‘Article Six: The people have an unalienable right to swerve maniacally in front of Charlie’s car, and then drive at fourteen miles below the speed limit for the next nine miles.‘
(Of course, if it did, there’d likely be some sort of smartassed amendment in there about not using your damned turn signal when you finally do decide to crawl to a stop and get the hell out of the way.)
I’m also pretty sure that there’s nothing in the case law, or in the annals of our state’s Supreme Court, that gives the boobjobs around me carte blanche to annoy the piss out of me. I haven’t looked, but I’m fairly skeptical that verbiage like this exists in, say, the Harvard Law Library:
‘Subsection VIa, Paragraph 4: In such case where the party of the first part is Charlie (hereafter designated as the ‘annoyee’), then the party of the second part (hereafter designated as the ‘annoyer’) may have leave to stand uncomfortably close to the anoyee, and may, legally and without incurring any penalty, prolong the conversation for any length of time deemed sufficiently maddening.
Subsection VIa, Paragraph 5: The annoyer may also, prior to the actions described in Paragraph 4 of this subsection, ingest near-toxic levels of garlic, onions, fish, raw sewage, or fresh and steaming puppy flop. This action is deemed under the law as a continuation of the action described in Paragraph 4, and may thus be undertaken, without penalty, fine, or other sanction, by any member of the populace.‘
Maybe it’s there. I don’t know. It’s got to be somewhere, though, right? I mean, it can’t just be frigging coincidence. Can it? Is it more brain-boggling to believe that people are doing this shit independently, without some sort of instruction, or that there are laws and such directed specifically to me? No, really, I’m asking here.
And frankly, I’m leaning toward the ‘conspiracy’ angle — there’s just been too much of this nonsense lately. I fully expect to flip through the ‘Good Book’ one day, and find some shit like this staring me back in the face:
‘Psalms, Book 44: And yea verily, ye shall harass Charlie with all manner of inane questions when your email account succumbs to the work of Satan. And as ye ask, so shall ye re-ask, with but the smallest intervals of time between. Ye shall not listen for the answers, for clearly, Charlie knows not the reasons for your technical difficulties. But ye shall badger him anyway, until he collapses, with a great wailing and a gnashing of teeth. Ye shall not gain your answers from this rite, and yet it must be done, in my name and with the blessings of your Lord. Amen.‘
See, now, it doesn’t seem plausible that that sort of thing is going on, but I just don’t have any other explanation. I’m no religious scholar, but I honestly wouldn’t be surprised at this point to see those words in ‘da Bazizzle’.
(Yes, you saw that right. I just called the Bible ‘da Bazizzle’, dammit.
See, I look at it this way — if there’s a hell out there somewhere, I’m gonna end up in it, almost certainly. So the very least I can do is to try to get into one of the funky circles of Hades. I mean, if I’m gonna be slow-broiled for all eternity like a goddamned Kenny Rogers roaster, then I might as well be partying with Rick James and George Clinton, right? Better that than stuck with people like… well, like Kenny Rogers, come to think of it. You wanna stare at that ugly mug and hear that friggin’ ‘Gambler’ song for the next few million years? Nuh-uh. Not me.)
All right, where the hell was I, anyway? Did I even have a point?
Bah. I don’t think I did. Screw it; I’m just venting tonight. I never said these posts would have a point. I’m gonna go have some dinner now. Something with lots of garlic, and maybe some onions. You gotta fight fire with fire, I always say. Next, I’m gonna practice my six-mile-a-fucking-hour freeway driving. You people aren’t the only ones who can piss people off, you know. I wanna play, too.
Permalink | 5 CommentsHave you ever had one of those days? You know, one where you finally sit back and survey the work that’s looming in front of you, and you take stock of the deadlines, and your capabilities, and the help you can get, and the resources at your disposal, and the staggering importance of all the tasks on your list, and then you find that if you strain hard enough, you can imagine a scenario, unlikely though it is, in which you can barely — and I mean just damned barely — manage to get everything done in time, provided that you buckle down, work smart, sleep little, and cut back on unnecessary extracurriculars like… oh, I dunno, going home. Eating. Breathing so damned often, that sort of thing. But dammit, it could work. If you just throw yourself completely into it, and everything goes well, with no surprises, you just might be able to pull this one out of your ass. Barely.
You with me here? You had one of those days? It’s sort of depressing, and yet strangely exciting. Once you’ve figured it all out, you’re filled with a new optimism, a sense of purpose. It’s a tough challenge, but it’s not impossible. Not technically, anyway.
You’ve all had one of these days, right? So you know how it feels. You’ve scripted out your next few weeks, or even months, with nothing but work, but there’s a tiny little light, way way out there at the end of the tunnel. And gradually, a sense of grim determination settles over you. You’ve got a job to do, and there’s nothing left but to roll up your sleeves and dig in.
Which is when you take an early lunch, of course. An early, long lunch. Quite possibly with a beer, or three. Or nine. And then you go home early, because clearly, such a complex and important plan should be undertaken early in the morning, so more can get accomplished on the ‘kick-off’ day.
Come to think of it, it’s probably best if this sort of thing is begun on a Monday morning, so the weekly progress reports won’t get all screwy with just a half-week of the new plan. And now that you bring that up, aren’t there monthly progress reports, too? And here it is, already the third of the month — and tomorrow will be the fourth, fer chrissakes. It’s way too late to start anything significant in May. Perhaps June will work, or even July, to kick off the third quarter right. But today? Clearly not. And tomorrow’s not looking so good, either.
So, obviously, I had one of those days today.
(Okay, not literally, of course. I didn’t actually drink at lunch, for instance. Felt like it, after trying — and failing miserably — to come to terms with all that must be accomplished between now and mid-May. And for the record, I only went home early because all of the servers that my work is on were down for several hours today. I decided that was some sort of omen or other, and that the best course of action would be to slink under the covers and hide shivering like a scared little girl for a few hours. Omens’ll do that to you, you know.)
Anyway, things may be a bit sparse and sporadic around here for a while. On the other hand, I’m writing this instead of getting started on all that work, so maybe the status quo will hold, after all. Still, I think something’s gonna have to give somewhere — there really is a lot on my plate for the next few weeks, and I’d really prefer not to give up any of that breathing I’ve been doing lately. I’m just starting to get the hang of it. Meh.
Permalink | 2 CommentsUm… hey. How’s it going?
Look, I’ll be honest. I got up around noon today. I showered at two. I’ve watched something like nine hours of TV today, and spent precious little time being non-horizontal. I didn’t shave, haven’t left the house, and I honestly can’t remember whether I brushed my teeth today or not. But I’m thinking not, for various reasons that are probably too unpleasant to go into here.
I suppose there’s some good news — that pulled muscle in my back hasn’t bothered me today. Of course, several dozen other body parts did take up the cause, so perhaps that’s not so encouraging, after all. Yeah. Not so much.
Anyway, how about if we just call this a ‘recovery day’, and hook up again tomorrow, eh? Seriously, there’s nothing about my day today that you’d want to read about, and I’m not sure I could write about it without shooting myself in the temple to end the boredom.
So, I’m just calling it a wash and taking the day off, pretty much. But you can always go back and read something in the archives, or try your hand at one of the Punchline Fever entries. There’s plenty of the old stuff to go around; knock yourselves out.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to get ten hours or so of sleep, so I’ll have some small chance of leading a relatively normal life tomorrow. You can let yourselves out when you’re done tonight, but for chrissakes, try not to make any loud noises, okay? Tonight, even more than usual, I really need my beauty sleep. Nighty-night, folks.
Permalink | No CommentsWell, I just about got my wish, for better or worse.
Sure, I didn’t actually physically stay in bed all day today, but in terms of what I got accomplished, it was pretty damned close. I got up around ten, played a couple of games on the computer (High Heat is the diversion du jour around here, in case you’re interested), and took a shower around one in the afternoon. Then, it was some TV watching, mowing the grass, more TV, another game, and off to dinner with the wife and some friends. Which turned into dessert, and drinks, and pool, and more drinks, and right there at the end, another couple of drinks.
So. What I’m basically saying is that I made the grass shorter today (largely because my wife made it abundantly clear, in her own special and mysterious way, that unpleasant things would happen to my testes if I didn’t), and I really didn’t accomplish anything else of note. If I had to stretch, I’d probably have to say that brushing my teeth was the second-most useful thing I did today. And I pretty much half-assed that, too, frankly. My cuspids didn’t get nearly the attention they deserve.
I suppose the other thing I’m saying, after all of those drinks I mentioned, is that I’m just a tad on the tipsy side. Or, at least, I’m typing it. I suppose I’m not really saying anything right at the moment, if you want to get technical about it. I could, though, if that would help. Let’s see… I could say, ‘Tuckus!‘ How’s that? I just said it. Is that any better? No? How about if I said, ‘Booberage‘ No? Making no sense?
Meh. Hell, I said I was tipsy. What the hell do you want?
Anyway, here’s hoping that your Saturday has been as useless, frivolous, and wildly entertaining as mine has been. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m off to an early night’s rest. I”ll see you kids tomorrow, and maybe that’s when I’ll talk about the ‘Fortune Melons’ I teased you with yesterday.
(No, really, I’ll get on that soon. I know that noone wants to be teased with melons. Especially my melons. That just can’t possibly be good.)
So, I’ll be back with more tomorrow. Sorry there’s not more substance and hilarity here tonight, but this is just one more thing I decided didn’t need to be done today. Hell, nothing needed to be done today. Sometimes you just need an empty day for reflecting, and recharging, and pouring large amounts of alcohol down your throat, you know? And that’s sort of the day I had today, and I don’t want to ruin my streak of uselessness until I have to. So sit back, relax, put your feet up, and enjoy the rest of your Saturday evening. I know I will — I’ll be sleeping. And there’s nothing better than eight to ten hours of shuteye after a hard day of being completely irrelevant, is there? Hell, I’m making myself sleepy already. Nighty night, folks!
Permalink | 1 CommentHoly slippery trouser monkeys, Batman — it is good to have this week over with.
There has been way too much work and far too little sleep in the past five days, but that’s all over with for a while. I’m taking it easy until Monday. Hell, I may not get out of bed until Monday. And I don’t mean early Monday morning, either — we’re talkin’ about ten, ten-thirty at the earliest. Or maybe I’ll mosey in around lunchtime. Or two, or Wednesday, whatever. I’ll hit the workplace just as soon as I feel rested again. How does June sound? That good for you, boss?
Anyway, don’t worry — I’ll be back tomorrow with something more for you.
Or do worry, if that’s the sort of thing that makes you shiver in fear like a wee little girl. Which it just might, if you knew that I’m thinking of writing about a topic I like to call ‘fortune melons’.
Okay, I don’t like to call it that, really. But that’s what I decided it’s called. Now I just have to figure out what the hell it means. It’s gonna be a long weekend, after all. Dammit, a blogger’s work is never done. See you tomorrow, folks!
Oh, and P.S. — if any of you decide you’re interested in checking out Breedster, drop me a comment or email. I’ve got two eggs ready to go and just itching to pupate.
Uh, virtually speaking, of course. Don’t take that sort of thing literally — I’m pretty sure that’s how rumors get started. Ick.
Permalink | 2 Comments
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