Okay, I’m starting my blog all fresh and new here, because MSN spaces has become a pain in the ass. Not only do I not have any readers any more–and, to be fair, maybe that’s more my fault than anyone else’s because of my off-putting nature–but the structure and management of the site has become disappointing and unnecessarily difficult. I’m going to keep the old one up as long as they will let me keep it up, because I have five years of archives there, and in that are a couple of worthy gems.
Which ones? Well, that’s up to you to figure out. Think of it as a frustrating and pointless treasure hunt. Enjoy.
For those of you new to me and my blog, howdy! Prepare to be entertained, or whatever you want to call it. Amused, pissed, shocked, and disappointed, all at once. The Germans have a word for it, I think.
I write about my life. My past, when it comes to me, and current events as they happen. Not before they happen–my psychic ability is about a voyeur on the scale from celibate monk to necrophiliac bestiality.
Puzzle the meaning of that out later; pay attention. I never thought I had an interesting life until I started to write about it. And maybe I really don’t, but I do find amusing ways to talk about it. I have worked in the food-service industry for a long-ass time, and that’s where the idea and the title come from. I’ve delivered more pizza than you could shove down Rosie O’Donnell’s pie hole, and I’ve seen and experienced and done some truly bizarre things. Customers are the bane of my existence.
I get way too personal on this blog–more than I should and more than people that are close to me are comfortable with–but I have learned to use aliases, at least.
So sit back, or follow along, or fuck off, whatever you want to do. But I have a story to tell. Most of it is in the archives, but new shit always comes to life. I have lived by the Chinese proverb–a curse actually. This curse was laid upon me by a vindictive God with a twisted sense of humor:
“May you live in interesting times.”
Tags: 2010s, cars
And sometimes I just get distracted.
And now, another exciting episode in the life of Bryan. That would be me.
My psychic ability, as you know, is quite erratic. Naysayers and nonbelievers might go so far as to say that I don’t have any. But I have proof. Again.
For the last several weeks, maybe a few months, I’ve been worried about a flat tire. Detroit, of course, as a bad tire on her van, and I’m sure that is about to go. But nonetheless, it seemed to loom larger on my mind–like it might happen to me.
Add to that my tire tool. In my garage I have an assortment of tire tools and 4-ways ("Hey, Oldestgenxer, what’s a 4-way?" "It’s a menage a trois with someone to run the camera.") amounting to several different choices of size, but the Mercedes takes its own special size, and it has a tire tool for that. Terrific.
I had to work on the car a few months ago. What did I have to do? Something with the brakes, I think. So I used the specially-included tire tool. When I was done, I left it in the garage with my tools instead of putting it back in the car.
Is this enough foreshadowing for you to figure out what happened next? Today I left work a tad early, all excited about getting started on my one day off in the middle of the week that I planned clandestinely to get a few projects done. The weather turned a little cooler, the sky is clear and blue, I have some shit that has gone unattended, and the first slight hint of Autumn has energized me–
I got a flat on the way home.
Yeah, of course I’m on the highway. You don’t get flats anywhere else–except maybe on a gravel road.
I didn’t even get out and look in the trunk. I knew the tire tool wasn’t there.
But here’s the lucky part, ladies and gentlemen: I had a cell phone on me!
Why is that lucky? Well, in the last few years, I have been stranded with no phone. Like the time I hit a deer. And the time I lost a wheel on the interstate. But this time, I had a phone. I counted myself amongst the lucky ones. Only the lucky ones get lucky.
I called Detroit, and she was still at work. I called her son. With me remotely directing him, he found the tire tool, and then he brought it out to me.
Meanwhile, I’m sitting on the side of the road as rush hour begins. There is a roadside assistance service that patrols the metro roads, and I thought if I was lucky, they might come by. Either they would have a tire tool, or they wouldn’t, and I could make the guy feel inadequate. It would be a win-win.
What I didn’t need was a cop to come by, because my plates is expired. ("Why do your plates be expired, Mr OGX?" "Well, it’s all
about my battle with The Man.")
So right after Alex shows up, a cop pulls up. Yay! I’m saved! My only hope was that, since I’m a middle-aged white guy, I wouldn’t get beaten and/or maced.
My fantasy was that I could actually tell the cop, "Thanks for stopping because I had a flat, and then giving me a ticket. Can you taze me now?"
But that didn’t happen. Instead, it was a very hot red-headed chick in uniform. Swear to God. My fantasy generator switched gears. She was polite, asked if we were okay–obviously she didn’t want to get down and dirty (or help with the flat)–cautioned us to watch out for traffic, and then she left. But the signs were there: obviously, she was digging me. No ticket.
Hot damn. I do believe it’s my lucky day…
Because my expectations are set pretty low, they are easy to exceed. On the way home, I stopped and bought a few lottery tickets.
Tags: 2010s, life and death, money
So many things going on, so much as happened. I’ve know that when you have time to write about it, there’s nothing happening. When there is shit going down, you’re too busy dealing with it to write and reflect and ponder and so forth.
To me, that’s why a journal style of personal record keeping is optimum. A daily diary can’t string together events over a period of time without appearing choppy. A journal-style (or at least, *my* journal style) lets me tell a story that may have happened over a period of weeks, or months, or years.
Or hours. Sometimes I get long-winded.
But not tonight, children. Gather around the radio with your hot chocolate and let me give you several brief synopses. Ah, where to start…?
The radio show seems to be going well, let’s start there. We had a rough month, though. Race was a big topic in the news, and we did a show about it. It was harsh, and ultimately unairable. Luckily for us, there were technical difficulties, and it didn’t record anyway. The following week, we did a better show, and still touched on the subject but in a different way. That show, too, disappeared into the ether. Not the ethernet.
Thrice we tried. This show was better. It was good. But–what happened? The following week, we received word from the studio (in other words, Lou) that due to technical issues, there would be no show. That was a week ago. Lou assured us that by the following week, we would be good to go. I certainly hoped so–
So much had happened in the news, I was chomping at the bit to get my opinion out there, like it matters. But it was frustrating. Finally, Saturday, we show up–
And all appears well. I say “appears” because, although we did record and it did seem to go well, until it’s posted in a couple of days, I’m not taking anything for granted. But Bill’s show just got posted, so here’s hoping the technical issues are over for now. This week, Lou should post our last show, and then the most recent one. He thinks he can recover a majority of the last show we did before the gremlins overtook the machines.
That’s all I have on that, except this: The show is taking up alot of my creative energy. I do have some to spare, but not much. But this is unique for me in many ways. It’s a collaborative effort (with partner Suzan) and I’m working on something tangible that other people can experience, thanks to Lou and his network. It gives me drive and focus and a reasonable desire to succeed. We may never have an audience to speak of–
–and I swear to God, all I want is someone–anyone–to tell me that they’ve listened to the fucking show! Just tell me that someone is out, there for Chrissake! Fuck.
Things at Pizzarama are going well. I work about 3 or 4 nights per week, anywhere from 12 to 15 hours a week. Just enough to piss me off and not enough to solve my financial problems. It’s a precarious balance. I’ll write more about that when I feel like it.
The first week of August, I took a vacation. Kind of had to–financial industry requirements. However, I still had to work the night job, and I also worked the Tuesday as an election judge. Basically, I had a shitty vacation full of unfinished projects and unfulfilled dreams.
I have several friends named Kim. Of course, there is the one I sleep with, Detroit. Then there is my life-long friend Bunny. At the bank I have a new one, whom I shall call…Kimmie. Nice woman in a trashy kind of way. The previous week, I was on vacation, and I also had no cell phone, because that’s what happens when you don’t pay the bill. She wasn’t able to get in touch with me.
Her boyfriend committed suicide.
Christ, I can’t imagine. But it must be hard. I feel shitty for not being there that week. Dammit. I’m trying to be there for her now.
Speaking of being there, I got cash problems. I made a decision a few weeks ago, and slowly it solidified for me, and I realize that I have to do it. But now, I’m okay with it.
I’m going to have to let the Mercedes get repossessed.
No matter what I do, every month I’m in the hole about the amount of that payment. They charged me too much for it, and then they screwed me on the financing. If the payment was half of what it is, I would try to manage it. Hell, it’s been a problem since I got it, which you would know if you were a regular reader of my column here.
I have my truck in the garage, which hasn’t run in about a year and a half. For less than one payment, I can get Fred running again. Hell, I should have done that instead of buying the car in the first place. I think we might have had other plans at the time, but I’m not sure. Hell.
The plates are up on the Mercedes, and it needs a tune up. The plates being up means inspections and it also means I need to pay the personal property tax I haven’t paid that was due December 31. But I’m going to have to pay that to get the truck on the road as well.
The difference is that monthly payment. That will make me or break me. As it has already shown, it’s breaking me. It’s going to fuck my credit, I know. But I have the house. I have two houses, actually, and me paying the mortgage affects both of them. It’s more important to keep the house than it is to keep the car.
This is me, chewing off my arm to get out of this.