Airport Cars

He Works Hard For The Money

December 31, 2005

Workshift: 2:00 - 11:00

7:30 -

Coworker: "Hey Mike, I need to get home and take care of some important business tonight. Coworker #3 won't cover my shift. Do you mind working until midnight for me?"

Me: "Sure, man. No problem."

Shit. So I will bring in the New Year filling out closing paperwork by myself. Well, I did say yes.

More Bukowski For Your Ears

These Houses Were My Homes

1992. I lived here with Matt and I worked at the record store. This was a time where many a night was spent at 328 Performance Hall or the Ace Of Clubs. I didn't make a lot of money then, but my entertainment dollar was nothing to worry about. Free CDs, free concerts, free drinks at many of the concerts. These were good times.

My two best buddies were J. and H. and we were like the poor who have no idea that they are poor. I don't remember worrying about money back then. I just played and played and played. I didn't have any girlfriends at the time either. I just had my friends and a continuous soundtrack of music in the background.

Chris Whitley. Bruce Springsteen. Lloyd Cole. The Waterboys. Concrete Blonde. U2. Tom Waits. Van Morrison. Little Village. Tori Amos.

My coworkers were Lee, Tina, Elena, Melissa, big Jason, and little Jason. Richard. Paul. I wish all of you the best. I miss you guys.




1995. I lived here with my best friend Chris. We have drifted apart over the years but I miss him greatly. I met him in 3rd grade and we were tight from then on. But for reasons I just can't figure, I haven't spoken with him in about a year or two. We were roommates for several years and this is the place that he bought in '95.

The upstairs window in the picture was my bedroom. In this room, I had the best sex of my life with the most passionate lover of my life. We eventually broke it off because we fought as hard as we loved. And it was just too much. It couldn't sustain, but it was wonderful for what it was. She has married and settled down and I have married and settled down. And both lives are the better for it. But I remember her like she was my first love.

I sold luggage at a store with Chris at the time. We worked well together. He was the store manager and I was the assistant. We would spend many a night drinking together and talking about the women in our lives. I really miss him. I have his number. Maybe I need to give him a call tomorrow.




2000-2002. After living with my future wife for several years, I hadn't gotten closer to marriage and she and I broke up. I lived her with my brother and his friend for a couple of years before Paige and I would get back together and marry. During this time, I lived a golden life. Rent was cheap, and I lived in the coolest part of my city. I would often walk down to Hillsboro Village for food and drink at the Villager or at Sunset Grill.

This was the Vandy area and the eye candy around here was exceptional. Sunday mornings would find me at Provence, eating croissants and drinking coffee and reading whatever as I watched the professors and the beautiful women go about their days.

For a bit, I dated a friend from work and have some nice memories from that. She was a hottie and I wish I had appreciated her more than I did at the time. I was nice to her, but it was clear that she wanted more than what I could give her at the time. I was still not over Paige. With the perfect bachelor life before me, I missed the girl I would soon marry.

Certainly, we have our struggles. I have written about them on here. But she is the person who I love. And she loves me. So, all of these places that I have lived, all of these experiences that I have, I'm glad that they all led me to my wife.

I'm Grateful

I am living a rich life. I've got my loneliness. I've got my frustrations. But I've also got a lot of love to come home to each night.

I complain too much about a life that millions of people dream and fantasize about having.

I should always remember this.

Nashville's Dirty Little Secret

So, they no longer play at this building. But some fun and naughty stuff used to go on inside.

Not Venting, Not Ranting

Just so everyone knows, this morning has treated me well.

Me: I think I know of an excellent way for us to make the most of this
brief bit of time we have together.

Lovely wife: (with a sly smile) Do you think we can with the kids up and
about?

Me: I'm not sure. But if we are interrupted, at least we can say that we
tried.

Lovely wife: Hmmm, that sounds nice.

Skip to thirty minutes later. I feel great. And so does she. Now I'm ready for a late morning nap. And I feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.

I love my kinky and sexy and beautiful wife.

Being Shy Sucks

OK, so that's not my most eloquent post, but after a couple of beers following a ten hour workshift, that's all I've got.

Of course, I'm doing better than most (not that it's supposed to be a competition), so I know better than to complain. But the point of this blog is to vent about the things that I wouldn't usually share otherwise. I write, it's off my chest, and I move on to other things.

But I was thinking today of how tight things are financially for me and how overwhelmed I can get by it all sometimes. There are two kinds of people who have skills that help them do well in their careers.

1. College educated with specific skills like accounting that help them make money.
2. Natural born salesmen who didn't go to college but can sell cars to anyone and everyone.

I am not like either of the above. I was going to college '89 but found myself in impending fatherhood and went another direction after that. I'm a nice guy and sell well, but not well enough to bank on earning enough for my current family of five.

And so, I stay safely in a job I don't like for the health insurance benefits. The pay is average and other places would pay me more, but when you bring health insurance into the factor, I'm better off where I am now.

If I could just get over this shy thing, I could move forward on the "dream job" of flight attendant. The pay would be much better, the health insurance would be equal to or better than what I have now, and the travel benefits would rock. And yet, I am lacking the confidence to move forward on this thing. I even have a referral form in front of me that is like gold in the hiring process.

Anyway, enough venting for one night. For now, all are healthy and happy and I am a lucky guy. I just need to improve on what is already good.

That's all. Off to bed.

HNT revisited

Os, master of this whole HNT thing, has suggested that we end the year posting our favorite HNT post of ourselves. Great idea, seeing as how I had no time to do anything new this week. Thanks Os.

And here it is. My fave HNT thus far.

I Need Advice On Posting Video Clips On Here

I am trying to post some video that I shot with my Kodak z740 digicam and am not happy with how it's going so far. I used castpost because I have seen others use it, but either my filesize is too big (and how do I make it smaller if that's the problem?), or there are better services out there (and what are they?).

Thanks for any help.

Reading Bukowski

Christmas Is Coming. Let's Go To The Beach!

Consider me an absentee blogger for the next week or so. I will be on vacation walking the sandy beaches of Amelia Island.

As for the HNT tag, I'm sorry that I didn't have more time to participate, but I just got home from work and have six hours until we start the trip down south. I feel like a bit of a heel because at least two people tagged me with perfect gifts, and I got nothing for no one. But if it's worth anything at all, I wish my friends the most intangible but invaluable gift of peace and happiness.

This whole blogging thing has been such a blast for me and I love this whole community of writers, both serious and jovial. You have all improved my year and I look forward to more of the same in the years to come.

Now, if you will all excuse me, I am off to bed...after I read just a few more blogs. (How many times have I said that before?)

My Parents

Glancing to my right while sitting at my computer, I caught myself really studying this picture of my parents. They married in '69, just after they found that they were pregnant with me. The marriage only lasted a few years, but I imagine that they were perfect for each other. They were certainly lovers of the whole hippie lifestyle, albeit they both were children of conservative parents and they never really went all out.

My dad was in bands and probably smoked a good share of pot in his day, but he also was a good student who was happy to pursue a career in teaching. My mom was always drawn to music. She never learned to play an instrument, but all of her adult life found her working for different record companies. To this day, she'll play Jimi Hendrix or Queen as loud as if she was still a teenager trying to draw her parents' ire.

From these two gentle spirits, I was born. I love them both in simple and complicated ways. I understand that love is fleeting. My own marriage is certainly not without its challenges. But I find that I get a bit angry at them when I see pictures of them together like this. Their divorce I don't remember. But the life after the divorce, I do. I remember my mom getting jealous of me looking forward to the weekends (that's when I would see my Dad). And I remember feeling the guilt about that. I know that they did the best that they could. I've got a son from a failed relationship, too. So any anger that I find deep within myself, I know that my oldest probably feels the same.

About five years ago, I sought out counseling for myself. I wasn't thinking about my parents at all. I was just trying to figure some things out about myself. But as soon as I told my dad what I was doing, he (almost comically) got very defensive and stated that he had done the best that he could as a father. It startled me how fast he said that. It's obvious that he still carries around guilt and baggage about that failed marriage and its supposed effects on me.

Honestly, I never really think about it that much. For being the product of such a fractured family, I never really lacked for love and support. If anything, it only increased the number of people who were there for me as I aged through childhood and adolescence. With a mom and a dad and a step-mom (now former) and a step-dad (now former) and another step-dad (now deceased), all who are loving and kind people, I certainly have more going for me than those whose parents stayed together, but whose parents were not the supportive, involved types.

But that honest, selfish inner-child in me gets pissed sometimes. I wonder what my life would have been like had my mom and dad stuck it out. Who would I have been? Would I have been less timid? Less shy? Less afraid to offend others? I'll never know, of course, and I won't fixate on this too much. But two beers down and a glance to the right will produce such questions.

'Tis The Season To Be Horny

Because I'm not seeing enough erotic photography in my life, I will share this link and invite you to spend your money to join, and then pick me to be the beneficiary of the free subscription. So, it's obviously win-win. You pay for porn. I see it for free. Not going for that? Fine. But check out the site anyway. It's good even if you are not a member.

Have a great day.

Cheney to Attend Swearing-In in Kabul - Washington Post

Cheney: "Does this mean I can tell people to go fuck themselves?"

Sorry, that was just too easy. Here's the link for anyone who wants to read the Post story.

On a related note, this liberal blogger has the hots for Condoleezza Rice ("Is that tooth gap caused by so much lying through her teeth?"). And it's not just a grudge fuck that I am thinking about. It's those damn high leather boots. I am Anakin to her Senator Palpatine. I would do her bidding.

One Man's Settle Is Another Man's Glass Ceiling

While driving my hotel shuttle to the airport the other day, I overhear a woman's cellphone conversation with an apparent friend and former colleague.

"I'm coming home now. I'm on my way to the airport. Listen. I networked for you and found a guy who might have what you have been looking for."..."Yes, it's a Dallas based job and you can be based out of your home so that'll be good for you."..."Your territory would be most of Texas and you'd have five reps under you. Here's the thing though. It only pays a base of $50,000. But you'd make your real money on commissions."..."Yes, I have his business card and you can fax him your resume tomorrow."

I'd love to settle for a $50,000 base plus whatever the hell extra.

In other news, my boss of all bosses recently received a bonus signigicant enough to warrant the purchase of a sweet convertible Audi. And yet there is no money in the budget for a Christmas party this year and we are all working with a bare bones staff as it is. And a friend of mine who was working a double shift behind the scenes was talked to about his 5 o'clock shadow, after 14 hours had passed since he began his work day.

Something tells me that something's rotten in Denmark. The Haves look at the Have Nots with disdain (and feel some degree of shame all the while). And the Have Nots are increasingly fearing the Haves with their write-up powers less and less. Stay tuned as I continue to observe. I will write it all down.

Late At Night, And Self Pics

Caught in a ruminating mood
and wondering about those who
used to love this wayward misfit.

They never just hung around.
They loved me hard and they
always let me see them cry.

And dammit, I let them
see me cry, too. Not that
I mind too much about that.

At my last haircut, I really
saw my tired eyes in the mirror
for the first time. I liked them.

I'm a far cry from beautiful
but I like my tired eyes. I like
why they are tired.

Women have loved me enough
to have put me through hell. Their
tongues and breasts and curves, all wet.

I find myself increasingly settling into
a life of $1400 beds where no sex wants me.
I write instead. And live in songs.

If I choose to sleep by myself on this $200
futon behind me, I will be able to listen to
Coltrane while I dream. Sounds good.

Sounds good.

I Did Not Meet The King

Well, I was hoping to meet up with Osbasso and his cool HNTers of my fair city tonight. But it was not meant to be. Work owns my time and I didn't clock out until 11:30 or so. And someone was kind enough to share her cell number with me but I left it safely in my email and didn't have access to it later when I was wondering if people were still in the party mood when I was off work.

Oh well. Another time maybe. On the upside, work was pretty fun tonight. It was the rare night where you wish that every night could be very, very similar. It is the week of office Christmas parties and the blue collar workers were all dressed up (in their own beautiful way) and ready to let loose in the confines of my lovely hotel. I am sincere when I say that they were all amazingly cool. The standard workday consists of guests who make somewhere between $60,000 -100,000 a year. They wear the very perfect suits and have their own way of being. But tonight was the night of the people who make a wage similar to mine. They don't get out much and go all out when they do.

They were drinkers. They were smokers. They were uncouth. And I loved them all. Guys in jeans and cowboy boots. Wives in little black dresses and cleavage adorned with glitter. The mullets were out in full fashion and the mullet's wives were drunk by 8pm. I saw thin white dress shirts through which you could see every detail of the tattoos underneath.

If I wasn't such a good boy, I could easily have been tonight's lover to more than a couple of rowdy ladies. And one of them made me wish for a second that I was not such a good boy. I would have given her my "A" game indeed. She had long black hair (my weakness is usually redheads, but she was the exception to the rule), and this little black outfit that was of a certain thickness where it needed to be and quite sheer everywhere but. She and I innocently flirted a bit and as she went on her way, I saw that her back had the most detailed and expansive tattoo behind the thin fabric. In another world, I would have licked her boots, grabbed at her ass, and licked my way up her intoxicating thighs. But as it is, I'm sure that is someone else's honor tonight, and I sit here three beers down, typing at my keyboard, listening to Swordfishtrombones by Tom Waits.

Os and friends, I hope you had fun in Nashville tonight. I can't wait to see the pictures and read the reports from those who were in attendance. I'm sorry I missed out, but I'm one of those guys who just seems to work all of the time. Enjoy the rest of your big trip and be well.

I'm Sleepy But...

...how do you go to bed in the middle of Rain Dogs? Tom Waits won't let me leave this CD in the middle.

Here are the lyrics to Ninth and Hennepin.

Well it's Ninth and Hennepin
All the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutes
And the moon's teeth marks are on the sky
Like a tarp thrown all over this
And the broken umbrellas like dead birds
And the steam comes out of the grill
Like the whole goddamn town's ready to blow...
And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos
And everyone is behaving like dogs
And the horses are coming down Violin Road
And Dutch is dead on his feet
And all the rooms they smell like diesel
And you take on the dreams of the ones who have slept here
And I'm lost in the window, and I hide in the stairway
And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat...
And no one brings anything small into a bar around here
They all started out with bad directions
And the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear
"One for every year he's away", she said
Such a crumbling beauty, ah
There's nothing wrong with her that a hundred dollars won't fix
She has that razor sadness that only gets worse
With the clang and the thunder of the Southern Pacific going by
And the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet
'til you're full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin
And you spill out over the side to anyone who will listen...
And I've seen it all, I've seen it all
Through the yellow windows of the evening train...

Rock n Roll in Cincinnati

Always with the fishnets and the short skirts.
The long black hair and the heavy eyeliner
And did I mention the short skirts?

We would play pool and all of the men envied me
But what they didn't know was that she was not
My lover. She was my good friend and we just liked
Hanging around each other.

And then we drove to Cincinnati one weekend.
The Stones were playing at Riverfront and we succeeded
In getting the worst seats possible. But we had fun
Because it was the Stones and we drank our Little Kings.

But lying in our shared bed at the Sleepy Bear Motel after
The show, she made the move on me. I had always desired her
But was happy just to have a friend. Now, aroused, I reacted to her
And enjoyed her naked body.

But she just laid there. I know that sounds rude, but it was simply the truth.
She was motionless and tasted of cigarettes and she was not too fresh down there.
It was the only time I had sex with someone and felt the need to
Shower all by myself immediately afterward.

We still hung out together after that road trip
But it was never the same. You just left me confused about that night.
Alyssa, whose last name I don't know how to spell, I hope that the
Good old world is treating you well. What did you want that night?

Welcome To Waffle House

Scattered, covered, diced at work
Bruised and battered at home.
I want to help you with this but
I'm as close to you as I am to Rome.

But you took care of business and yourself
And you called the cops and he was gone.
Until lately, when you decided that it was
Easier to get by with him then it was alone.

You continue to smile and take my order
And what business is it of mine anyway?
At least I will tip like a motherfucker cause what's
20% on the price of hashbrowns when you pay the bills each day?

My Next Milestone Is Coming Up

As of Sunday, December 18, sleeping with a girl who is half my age will finally be legal. I'm not saying that I want to. I'm just saying that I will turn thirty-six years old.

Happy Birthday To Me! Too bad I'm working that night and going straight home for a good night's rest immediately afterward. Turning thirty-six sure is a far cry from turning twenty-one. I think I will try to find the recipe for the famous French Kiss martini and pour myself a celebratory drink when I get home that night.

PowerNap - If Only I Believed This Was True

I saw this ad in my gmail this morning. It proclaims that it can give me 3 hours of deep sleep in only 20 minutes. I know not to believe it, but oh how I wish I could. Wouldn't it be great?

HNT - Extreme Closeup

Thanks for looking. Your thoughts?

A Pop-Up I Would Pay For

This is about the third time this week that I have put something on the stove, ventured to the computer room for a bit, and forgotten all about the fact that I was cooking something.

I should install some kind of pop-up that would remind me every 3-5 minutes to go stir my food. Now watch someone else run with this idea and somehow make a million bucks at it.

I'm out. It's time to eat some burned Ravioli.

Le Car. Le Damn Car.

For those of you waiting with bated breath, the car is not the disaster I had feared. I had it towed to my former place of employment, Darrell Waltrip Honda & Volvo, and they were relatively kind to me. It was neither major nor major, just somewhere on the high side of in between.

Something about a cylinder.
Something about all of the plugs.
Something about some wires.

Something exactly at $297.11

Charge it.

I will catch a ride from a former boss who lives in my town in the morning and will pick up the car. It gave me some stress over the last 24 hours, but at least I don't pay a car payment on it as well.

In related financial news, I think I'll buy a Powerball ticket tomorrow...just in case.

Tired Of Being Broke

I figured that many people I know can relate to this title. I made my way home tonight in a car that doesn't sound too healthy. I was thankful beyond measure that I made the 30-mile journey from work to the house without incident, but it sure did shift roughly and it sure did smell funny when I put my nose to the hood.

I'm off tomorrow and will probably use roadside assistance to tow it for free to a garage where a friend of mine works. I know that it could be anything from something very minor and inexpensive to something as major as needing to put a new engine in there. God help me. I can't afford that.

And I just finished reading an interview with Mark Cuban in the new Playboy. At least I don't feel too envious of his wealth. Well, I guess I am envious of his wealth, but I mean that I don't hate him for having what I don't. It's great to read about people who make it financially by doing things their own way. If I ever make it to a healthier financial plateau, I know that it won't be by doing the corporate brown-noser thing. It'll be some quirky thing where I start doing something for fun and just fall into easier times.

Along those lines, I am thinking of the two people behind Rocketboom. I read the story about them in the NY Times the other day. He with the camera and computer, she with the smile and photogenic aura. They post a daily five minute video blog, talking about what's in the news, nothing too high tech. They do this for the fun of it and in 14 months find themselves with over 100,000 subscribers and a deal with TiVo. Not bad at all.

And here I am fretting over the car that I need to get me to and from work. I see the whole downward spiral before me. If I can't make it in, I will lose that job. If I lose that job, I will lose health insurance benefits for the family. If I lose those benefits and someone gets sick? God knows.

Happy people like Mr. Cuban and the people behind Rocketboom took another path and have found themselves not worrying about car repairs burying them. It's time for me to find something that will put me ahead, something that will not necessarily make me rich, but certainly something which will allow me to feel comfortable with a nice emergency fund and the like.

Here's praying that I make it. Anyone wanna brainstorm with me? We could start a video blog. That might be fun.

SiteMeter, Fresno, And Sarita

While checking out my SiteMeter and seeing where my visitors live or work, I saw Fresno, California amidst the many cities listed. I have a good friend who used to live in Fresno but stopped working where I work a few years ago and I lost track of her.

Now, I'm sure it's just a coincidence, but I had a visitor from Fresno according to SiteMeter. Sarita, is that you? I hope life is good for you. Are you married to the guy you dated in Nashville? Did you move back to Fresno? The two or three people who still work here from when you worked here remember you well. You're a sweetie and very kind and I valued our friendship. I wish the best for you and invite you to say hi sometime.

I Was Tagged A Long Time Ago

If memory serves, the lovely Tish tagged me awhile ago with a very short meme. I just checked her site for it and can't find it (deleted, maybe?), but I think I was supposed to remember a detail about a time or situation where I may have been an asshole.

I can't remember any real situations where I could be described as such (or maybe I have a really short memory), but I guess I could wimp out and say that it was recently when she tagged me, and I said that I would write about it soon, and then I never did. Until now, that is. So I am back to trying to remember a time when I was an asshole. Hmmm.....

There was this time when I was in kindergarten and we were all having our nap. To decrease the distractions of talkers, we were all on our little mats lying in opposing directions. One day, as I was trying to nap peacefully, while only seeing the feet of this girl who could only see my feet, I got more and more aggravated as the girl tried to converse with me. After about a minute of this, I tried to shut her up the only way that made sense to me at the time. I kicked her in the face.

I doubt it was hard, just enough to get the message across. Well, the message played loud and clear to the teacher. I hadn't thought far enough ahead. It hadn't occurred to me that the girl would do anything other than shut up. But cry, cry, cry she did. And what happened to me, I can't quite recall. Maybe a spanking. Maybe a little "stand in the corner" time. I'm not sure what the general rules of discipline were at the time. Whatever the procedure, I haven't kicked a girl in the face since, so I imagine it was effective.

As for more recent examples, I honestly cannot recall anything. There was this time a girlfriend said the phrase, "You are an asshole." But I'm pretty sure she was mistaken.

Tish, I'm sorry it took me so long to reply, but I hope it was worth the wait. It really feels like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

Hey Tech Support

I'd like to post some audio on here but I don't want to call audioblogger each time. I see that I have a microphone attached to my monitor. How do I accomplish this goal?

Thanks.

The Wrong Soundtrack

I was off Friday and got to stay home with the kids. They sure didn't let me ease into the day, but after they let me get a quick bath I was refreshed and good to go. We played all day long and for a good bit of the morning, we had Noggin playing in the background on the TV. It's a channel devoted exclusively to kids programming and has some very cool songs associated with each show.

But now, it's midnight. Everyone is asleep but me, I'm horny and surfing for porn to read to help me transition to sleep. The problem is that those cute songs are still in my head. They don't go with what I am trying to accomplish. I may just go to the couch and watch C-SPAN. It's just not in the cards for me to get off tonight.

Two Good Books

HNT In The Bathroom Listening To Tom Waits

Charles Bukowski on the bedside table and Tom Waits on the bathroom CD player and me in my naked solitude sitting on the side of the bathtub. I'm at peace.

So This Is Writer's Block, Huh?

I've got nothing. But you're reading it, so maybe it's something after all.

Johnny Cash finally is getting me to love his version of "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails. I resisted it for a long, long time and I'm not sure why. I loved his other covers of Soundgarden songs and the like. I, at last, am hearing it as if he wrote it and felt it.

And now comes "Busted" and I relate. Except that I am "busted" but I also know that compared to so many millions of people across this world, I am living like a king. So, no whining from me. In fact, I know that I need to do some good for some others to make me feel better about myself. I know that it is for selfish reasons that I feel the pull to what some might recognize as altruism, a word defined by its very absence of selfishness.

What I mean is that I am going through life more depressed than I admit. I know that people suffer more than me and so I keep my complaining in check. But I still go around unhappy. What I need to do is go to the Nashville Rescue Mission and volunteer a bit of my time for those who are homeless and who have hunger. It won't require much skill on my part, just the ability to move a ladle from a pot to a bowl, I guess. With that I might really connect with the very people I think about so often. I'll be checking into this soon.

Take that, writer's block!

Love Is Real

I'm listening to John Lennon singing "Love Is Real" this morning on WRVU. I'm glad I've got some of that real love in my life. Regardless of the distance between us thanks to work schedules and demands, I get to give her a warm, loving embrace each morning before she goes to work.

We've got love.

You Can Have Your Freezing White Christmas

I'm going to the beach!

Don't Let The Bastards Get You Down

I said that phrase to myself several times tonight. It was another long, hard night at work. There are two main things that I do at work. One I love, the other I hate. And now that we are short staffed, I am doing the job I hate more often.

People waiting for me at the airport, lying about how long they had to wait. They don't even seem to be trying to work the system for free stuff. They have just had long days and feel like complaining. I'm there every 30 minutes. I would love to be there more often than that, but with my route that's as good as it gets.

That said, ten minutes after leaving the airport, I get a call over the two-way radio that someone is complaining that he has been waiting for 45 minutes. (Don't let the bastards get you down.) Of course, I know he's lying but my bosses don't necessarily know that. Now I'll credit my bosses for knowing me well enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, but let's assume that they don't. Someone who just feels like complaining could ostensibly get a guy fired or written up, over a stupid lie.

So I deal with this a few times tonight (Don't let the bastards get you down.) And I keep on smiling. But on other runs, it's still people who get mad when I make a stop that is not theirs. I service five hotels. I don't make the rules, I only suffer the consequences of the rules. I even try to prepare them for what is to come. Once everyone is boarded, I ask each person which hotel they are going to. In doing so, guests are made aware that there are multiple stops to be made. I inform everyone that we will be going to Hotel A and then Hotel B and so on. It never fails though that as soon as I get to Hotel A, either everyone starts grabbing their things and trying to get off of the bus or I hear a chorus of "Is this Hotel B? Is this Hotel C?" each drowning out the other. (Don't let the bastards get you down.)

Anyway, I get home after a night of this, having received paltry tips and very little love and I am finally brave enough to submit my resume to my dream job. I go to the website and navigate to the careers section. And like a big, fat joke, they are no longer accepting applications for the position. For the months preceding tonight, they were accepting and hiring.

There's a lesson in here somewhere. I will submit it anyway offline and I will check the site daily for changes. For now, I will apply to another hotel, one without a hotel shuttle. The hourly wage is less, but the tips might be oh so much more. It's worth a shot for my happiness.

(Sidenote: "Don't let the bastards get you down" is what Kris Kristoferson told Sinead O'Connor after she was booed during a tribute concert for Bob Dylan. This occurred just two weeks after she tore up a picture of the Pope on Saturday Night Live in 1992.)

Smile!

I got the camera this morning. We'll call it my early birthday/Christmas present. The plan was to stay in bed today and get less sick with rest, but now I have to read the instruction manual and play with the settings. I'm too giddy to sleep.

Arlo And Janis On My Life (I Think)

I'm not sure I'm putting all of the words together quite right, but I'm pretty certain that it's about me.

(Click the pic to enlarge.)

It's A Good Thing I'm A Lover, Not A Fighter

She's got that heart of gold that Neil Young sings about.
She's my favorite person in the whole workplace.
If I was not married, I would have pursued her by now.
As it is, we are very good friends and that's all I want.

She makes three times the money I make
And you know that money means nothing to her.
And so we relate. We know it's all about the kindness.
I feel that we've got that sibling vibe going on. And that's good.

Today, the bastards wrote her up.
I thought that only happened to clock punchers like me.
They had fired her assistant and didn't replace her.
My friend got twice the workload and none of the slack.

And so she was written up for falling behind in her work.
And my dad wonders why I don't climb the corporate ladder.
I see this shit daily. Not for me.
My friend deserves better than this.

Steve Martin in The Spanish Prisoner,
"Always do business with someone
like they're trying to screw you.
And if they're not, you can be
pleasantly surprised."

Sounds about right.
Ain't no love in the corporation
Not for you and not for me.
At least the health insurance is good.

It Takes A Village To Punch A Time Clock

One gay black man from New York City
An Egyptian man and his Romanian bride
A silly and spoiled girl from Poland
And an Albanian woman and me.

All sitting at the lunch break table together
Laughing at The Family Guy
On the small TV hanging from the ceiling
We're all brothers right this minute.

Any One Will Do

Bukowski, Waits, or my Pop
I could be compared to any of these three
And that's all I would need to hear.