1/29/02

Hungover and Bipolar

Hey

Been a hectic couple weeks since last installment, been working on this one sporadically, but haven't been able to get it out. Sorry for all the e-mails not responded to, maybe what follows will explain somewhat.

Spent a couple days last week in Elkins for training in the changes to the Medicaid Waiver program effective 2/1/02, which amounted to "We don't know what the hell's going on." What a mess. Also was given the option last week of transferring to Beckley or getting laid off, the official version being they need help in Beckley, the unofficial one being for a bad attitude, and talking to the wrong people. I came in the door with a bad attitude, and I thought I was the wrong people, so I don't know. I do know they're way understaffed in Beckley, so I held them up for paying my expenses every day from Charleston, which means they'll be paying $43 extra each day just for my showing up at work. Dumbasses. Anyone wonder why this company has money problems? I plan to work Beckley about 2 months and put a couple thou in expense money in the bank, then force the bastards to lay me off and hang out on unemployment for the summer. May not be an ambitious plan, but it sounds damn good to me.

Wrote some of this last week, gotta update it a little. Firstly, decided to call this mess Hungover and Bipolar. Had some good entries from the readership, including Raleigh's Rag, and Dinner and a Lizard (an inside joke there), but I decided to go with something I came up with myself.

Met Loretta's boyfriend Sunday evening (this would have been the 20th) after dinner at Joe's and Laura's (thanks) when the girls and I stopped by what used to be my house to pick up some stuff they had forgotten. Walked in what used to be my foyer to find the bastard sitting at what used to be my kitchen table DRINKING BEER. If you know Loretta's and my history you'll see the fucking irony. Not sure who was more surprised, them or us. Not going to go too much into detail, out of deference to Dave, and cos I genuinely don't want to turn this into soap opera central, but it was pretty ugly with the girls (I was the voice of reason, for God's sake), Sarah screaming "Get that motherfucker out of my house" while I quite literally had to restrain her, (God love her heart, she's her Daddy's girl, even to doing that fake I'm okay thing, and then you relax, and she lunges out of your arms) and drag her out to the car (she'd have kicked his ass, trust me, and I'm being serious here, if I'd let her go she would have KICKED HIS GROWN MAN ASS, she was 105 pounds of adrenalized shaolin muscle). She damn near kicked mine collaterally. And I know I postured a few letters back saying I'd kill the fucker when I saw him, and I meant what I said, but you know what? When I actually saw him, it just wasn't there. I just sort of went, whatever, she's your nightmare now.

The ink on the divorce is still drying from Thursday night, and he's sleeping in what used to be my bed, with who used to be my wife-for 22 fucking years- on Friday. Fuck's sake, is it just me- and I'm serious, is it just me, because it's happened to me- or is that just a little tacky? No angst involved on my part, though. I've found peace and let it all go, swear to God. I'm just reporting here, not obsessing.

Also, I got a good song out of the experience. It's called "I Thought Gandhi Was Dead." (This guy fell out of the ugly tree and rolled under the scrawny bush.)

It's been an nasty week+ since then on this front, but I'm not going into it.

Wish things were as exciting in MY love life. I've been trying to chat up the very attractive temp we've had working the front desk this week, but it's not going too well (Bill- Are you doing anything tonight? Temp- Well, I might be getting sick- godamighty, I'm too old for this shit).

The girls and I went out and got Rachel a lizard this past Friday night. Ended up getting a leopard gecko, nice inoffensive looking thing about as long as from my palm to fingertips. It hisses like a snake and bites like a goddamn snapping turtle, everything I ever wanted in a pet. Felt like the Crocodile Hunter just trying to get it from the box to the terrarium- " 'ere, leave go mate, you're alright."

Me and technology are not friends. In fact, I think it's safe to say we're mortal enemies. Mongoose and cobra, or better yet, Ahab and Moby. Bring me an anvil, for fuck's sake, not only will I not be able to figure out how to work it, but I'll break the damn thing trying to puzzle it out. You know that real neat, real expensive CD recorder I told you about last issue? Well, I can't FIGURE THE MOTHER FUCKER OUT! The directions are fucking jibba-jabba, the few I've been able to decipher I've tried to implement to negative fucking success, I've sworn at it, spit on it, stomped circles around it, and it continues to defy me at every fucking turn. I stabbeth thee, cursed recorder.

Oh, and by the way, the Danelectro 12 string I was waiting on? "We can't get it anymore." I sincerely wish these sons of bitches would stop putting things in their catalogs that THEY DON'T HAVE.

I hope you were able to catch one of the movies I recommended last week. Wasn't able to watch Fathom because the girls bugged/shamed me out of it 15 minutes in- Daddy!- I'm raising a couple of feminist Puritans- but that's okay, trust me. Did watch the Blue Max, which I forgot to mention last time has the sexy as hell Ursala Andress in it (whom we last saw dancing braless). Beautiful in her day, she's in my Top 3 Movie Tits of the 60's (not to be confused with Top 3 TV Tits of the 60's, or Top 3 Movie Tits of the 70's).

A magazine I highly recommend is MOJO, but if you're into music even a little, I'm sure you're familiar with it. It's a British mag, and those fuckers just about to a man write with such wit and style . . . also, it's not a trendoid Spin type thing, they are always doing these fantastically well written and researched articles on bands like the Seeds. Was reading one earlier tonight from about a year ago- I reread old magazines all the time, which was way up in my fatal flaws when the big D came about- it had an article about the old "Let us put your lyric to music" ads that were so rife back in the 70's, before everyone could afford their own recorder they couldn't work. Every backwoods Manilow would send in reams of homespun doggerel, to be put to music. There were a bunch of these lyrics included, my favorite follows-

The Ballad Of Diabetes

Funding was a problem, MacLeod took up the fight Laboratory funding, they worked every night But the cure is not found, diabetes rages on Did you know diabetes needs control? Diabetes needs control

Fuck I am Iron Man, can you not hear Sabbath playing that? Diabetes needs control. WHAT A LYRIC.

There was also a contemporary picture of Aretha Franklin in a- let's say, voluminous- red dress, later in the mag. She looked like an apple on a stick. Somebody stop her, please.

What's Bill drinking? Vodka and cranberry. Not tonight, gosh sakes, I've pretty much abandoned weekday imbibing, and besides, I've finally found something to help me sleep, and I don't want to be Karen Ann Quinlan by drinking on top of it. No, I meant last Saturday night, just a little lizard bite medicine don't you know. Nothing hi-tech here, just throw some vodka and cranberry juice together and drink. It's better if you use at least decent vodka, Stoli is overkill in my book unless you're drinking it straight, I like Gordon's for mixing, but what happened to the boar's head on the bottle? Also best if it's been in your freezer for a while, and plan ahead and make some cranberry juice ice cubes to use, makes a big difference. (Green apple schnapps martinis? Jesus).

Wish I had some wrestling news. I last spoke with Bobby (Blaze, trainer of champions, promoter of legends) in December, he was either having built or buying us a building for our exclusive use there in Ashland, everything was cool for his starting back training and shows after the first of the year, and since then it's like he fell off the earth, can't get him by e-mail or phone. Tom, ask Matt and Kris again if they've heard from him, please. Anyway, the Chinese Death Falcons are temporarily grounded, but hey, if I'm going to be in Beckley, maybe I can go to work for Appalachian Pro. Show Frank the fucking Tank how it's done, eh, Tom?

Gonna get this out now. Individual e-mails to follow soon, but Doug, yes I would love to come over and make (and drink) some beer, I'll get in touch and we'll work out a day (and Chinese Death Falcons still rule, you Yankee Drunk), Dave, sorry I haven't gotten that stuff to you, I'll make my best effort to get it up there in the next couple days, you may know more about what's been going on here this past week, it ain't been pretty, Joe, you've GOT to get out here and help me figure out this infernal recorder before something in my head SNAPS, Mark, still looking forward to seeing you at Escapes.

All of you all please take care, if I didn't give a shit about you I wouldn't inflict this on you.

Monsters are attacking Tokyo,

Bill