Paying Someone to Kick My Ass

I'm now going to a gym, and I have a personal trainer. And he "motivates" me to push harder than I normally would. The importance of nutrition and keeping my caloric content between 1600 - 2400, how 15 reps the right way is more beneficial than 1000 done wrong. And he gets paid to torcher me.

I constantly see people with grit teeth and screaming with eyes bugged out and the look of someone passing a bottle brush...lengthwise...Trying to max out weights. All they're gonna do is tear muscle. And I see women on the treadmill, wearing a thong. Do you know how impractical that is?! I would think running in that would be like sliding down a barbed wire fence.

But this story, strangely enough, isn't about that. It's about what happened after the gym.

My "Herbie" wouldn't start. Worse than that, all the dash lights went haywire, the door locks and alarm wasn't activating, and the trunk unlatched. I was in a weeping panic! My car is too new for this to happen!!

Turns out I needed a new battery. It seems that my 2001 beetle had the same 5 year battery since it was forged. Well, that scare was like a 5 mile jog to my system! My heart was beating like a frightened bunny!

So, I took it to Les Schwab for a new battery, after I called them to confirm that not only do they have a battery for the VW new beetle, but that someone there knows how to install it. Ever see the inside of a NB engine? It's the most unique, compact, and difficult engine to work on. Like the inside of a watch.

I get a jump from Les, or a cousin of his, I dunno, and get Herbie to the Mechanic Schwabite. And Now I'm pacing by a window as I see my car a couple of rows down with it's hood up. I'm like a worried parent waiting for his child from surgery. I'm even hoping the mechanic washes his hands.

And What I see makes my jaw drop. He's yanking on the old battery to try to get it out of the car! Then he sits on the new battery to get it in! He's holding a piece of the engine in his hands, and he looks...befuddled!! Like he doesn't know where it fell off of, or where it goes! Now, I see him sticking one...no, two magnetic probes in the engine block to retrieve something! I'm plastered against the glass, going mad and I'm about to scream for someone the get that hack away from my car.

Two hours later, and another competent mechanic later, Herbie is good as new with greasy fingerprints on her hood, and a 84 month super-mega battery.

And that's what the title means: I paid someone to give me a complete coronary while I watched. I skipped the gym that day so I can recuperate.

My nerves are shot.

Bullseye Hung on Your Soul

I've had a mad day. And been exploring the nature of guilt.

No, not Guilty, like O.J. His kind of guilt is just a judgement from others. I don't see him suffering (and he should). It's when you feel guilty, even though you didn't do anything to be guilty about. Even though you know you shouldn't feel guilty, and logically, there is nothing to be guilty about. But, you still feel terrible. Like you're the most horrible person in the world.

Have you ever called in sick to work? You're really sick, you're not usuable at work, you're not lying...and when you call, work makes you feel guilty! Every moment at home surrounded by loads of used tissues, all you can think of is how you let them down at work...and you know you shouldn't feel that!!! Thats the guilt that tears and rips at you. The feeling you let someone down, even though your mind says theres no reason for that. Workers. Friends. Family. Children

The heart has a fragile soul and defines you.

And if you're reading this, and you don't have any idea what that feels like...you will never understand me, or anyone I am friends with.

In fact, I embrace the kind hearts of the people I surround myself with, those who are racked with guilt sometimes. Because, their heart is so big, so pure, it's such a big target for hurt. And, I've become such a protective soul as I grow older. An empathic paladin.

I will take the bullet. Or at least share the pain. No one should feel guilty alone, so either I am an aura of compassion, or a big puss like some people say.

This reminds me of a story: a loooong time ago, my sister Carol went to UCDavis, far from home, living on campus. She took my dog with her (my moms new boyfriend, later husband, didn't like dogs. Or perhaps didn't like my dog. either way, Carol had to take him). She walked the big shambling mound everyday, and one day, he got in a fight in park with another dog. Carol called home freaked out after this horrible encounter, crying. I talked to her first and empathically connected with her pain, trying to calm her, and fully understanding...

Then my mom went on the phone: She laughed at Carol.

I said, What are you doing?! Don't laugh at her durring this!! And my mom angrily covered the phone and said to me, "I'm trying to show her how rediculous she's being!! YOU just aren't sensitive!!"

ME?! I am, and have always been, so hypersensitive, It's sometimes overwhelming!! I truely believe I have my own cycles where I'm too emotional, get cramps, retain water, and my boobs hurt!! I'm like emotional flashpaper! I am SOOO un-dude-like!

I guess that doesn't make me fun at parties, huh?

But, I think i'm happier being the shield for others. And yes, when you spend too much time chasing other peoples clouds away, you sometimes end up in someone elses rainy day.

I' still would rather be the umbrella. I bet umbrellas feel good about themselves.

As If Anyone Needed Proof of My Geekiness.

Here's my wonderful car. But, why am I so enamored by a white beetle?

Time for a little backstory.



As a child, I always had a vast imagination and creativity to go with it. I didn't get too many gifts and I used my own means to make myself the toys I always wished I had. I like batman, and mom wouldn't buy me any batman toys, so I built my own. It was an exact replica of TV's batcave! It was made with tiny hands and shoeboxes for the backdrop, straws for the batpoles, masking tape for fabric and texture. It was pinpoint accurate, font, color, and layout to the TV original. Even as a wee wee lad, I had a fantastic ability to make things as true as possible with the materials at hand.

I loved star trek. I made a 1/24th scale Enterprise bridge set that was custom made for my plastic farm animals (didn't it seem that we all got a bag of farm animals as a child at one point in life from someone?). I loved Battlestar Galactica. I made the galactica with working launch tubes, vipers, and little colonial warrior helmets for the farm animal pilots with working chin straps made out of masking tape. Mom used to get mad I used up all the masking tape...

I loved the Beatles Yellow Submarine. Guess what I did? And After seeing Jaws, I made a fantastically detailed model of the ship the Orca that Quint had to get the shark. Straw masts, thimble pontoons, thread rigging, paper clip hooks, and a cardboard collapsible shark cage. I even made a shark big enough to swallow a farm animal whole.

And one movie that made my life back then, was "the Love Bug". From that day forth, I had this thing for Volkswagen beetles. I said to myself that when I grew up, I would get me a beetle like Herbie one day. And yes, I produced a small accurate cardboard car with working wheels, doors, and hood, the red/white/blue racing stripe, the number "53" in the correct font, and a space for a little plastic goat to drive it.

In my teens, I was so jealous of my friend Doug, whos parents got him a 1965 junkie primer colored beetle. And secretly mad at him for not wanted to even try to make it a Herbie. My first own car when I was 18 was white...a white Chevy Chevette. Not exactly what I dreamed my first car would be. And when the brakes gave out on it a month later going to work, not exactly the kind of wild ride I was expecting.

And now we come to today. And today harkens back to the little 6 year old in me again, redeeming the promise I made to myself.

A couple of weeks ago, I was walking about the used car lot with the newly minted check, looking at small cars, but not seeing anything I liked. People told me to get a Saturn, a Mazda, even look at the Mini coupe. I tried them all, but it didn't "feel" like me. I can't explain it. The exasperated car dealer said he had some more cars in Oregon we can go to and look on that bigger lot. I reluctantly said yes.

We drove up to the lot, and much like Jim Douglas looking at the expensive cars in Thorndykes auto showroom in the "Love Bug", I saw this little white beetle hidden among the flashy vehicles. He didn't want to "waste my time" with that car, but I insisted , for a lark, to a test drive. And, I became the six year old again! I never felt more comfortable with a car. The lonely white New beetle hidden on the backlot was purchased that day. Was it ironic that is happened to be white? Was it Karma?

As I drove my new baby home, my mind was reeling back to a promise I made as a child. I petted the dash and decided that if it was chance or destiny I finally got myself a white bug, I would surrender to the geek inside of me. And I set about immediately on research, design, investing, and lots of work...

Got my car finished last night. And the child inside me is absolutely glowing!!!



...There's your proof. I guess now I'm the plastic goat.

Halloweens Past

Yep, I'm sick again...

It's the flu, and it's creating havoc with my voice. Earlier this morning it was a wee raspy high pitch whine that only bats can hear. Now, it's turn the opposite way, and it's gotten so low, it sounds like either Barry White, or James Earl Jones.

So, I had to call the few people I knew and when they answered, I'd play the Imperial March in the background and say "You are part of the rebel alliance, and a traitor!! Take her away!!"

Can't do that now though, my voice just changed to Eeyore. Come to think of it, it started out as Winnie the Pooh.
____________________________

I didn't post on Halloween, and there was a reason for that: Nothing happened...

Nothing! No kids in coolass satiny costumes with the plastic half mask and paper sacks with pumpkins on it. No middle school kids just tromping about the streets in some kind of get up, usually a killer or a punk. No nuthin.

Well that's not entirely true. On the way home from work at 10pm, I was driving my the paper mill near where I live. The streets were devoid of any people for the 31st...Except for this one 20-30 guy on the street corner. A pear shaped lad in a dark wife beater, jeans and muttonchops. I didn't know what to make of it, other than this portly fellow just left work at the mill and is going to on of the twelve bars nearby (in Camas, it seems like drinking is the pastime of choice...).

Then I saw something that made me giddy with glee: He had on lil' black gloves with three tiny 3 inch silvery spokes on the fist. Oh my God! He's dressed up as Wolverine! He was the only person in a costume for miles around with all the stores closed, and he even had a beer can prop. Then again, perhaps it wasn't a prop.

Anyway, I fought the urge to circle back about and make sure I saw what I saw.

I remember a time when I went trick or treating as a child, and it was sooo cool! You'd get one of those costumes at Ralphs that were in a box with the mask on the front from Rubies. The actual jumpsuit was no better than paper and had the image of whatever you were supposed to be on the front. Like, if you were supposed to be a penguin, you would have a black jumpsuit with a white belly, you'd have a stupid picture of a bunch of penguins on your tummy.

I even had one cool costume with a robot mask with a bulb that lit up on the forehead (Giant Robot! Attack!). It was shredded when I took a shortcut through a rose bush.

I remember walking miles to all these houses with a small group, and getting tons of candy from wonderful smartiees, to lousy candy corn, to popcorn balls. I actually liked the popcorn balls, that took time to do! I didn't like bags of popcorn. Someone went the cheap route. And even worse, the dreaded old guy who gave out pennies.

I'd go home and mom would inspect the candy very casually. Usually, if no razor blade is sticking out an apple, it's all good. Besides, do you know how much work will go into forcing a blade into an apple? And really, an apple? I used to toss those before I got home to make room. I'd have a HUGE load!

...Then the world changed.

Parents were scared of other people giving candy to others and children walking around in the dark. So they moved the trick or treating in a well lit mall, which ruins the costumes look under fluorescent lights. But, when I was a kid, there were hundreds of packs of kids milling about the streets! Ever see the Halloween scene in E.T.? Just like that before! If something bad happened to a kid at a house, the Childrens Underground Network would spread like wildfire.

And we come to the hideous Halloweens of today.

Last year, it was like Beruit. Cars would slooooowly move down streets to a clearly marked house. The door would fly open, and the poor children would run to the door like they were under fire by "Charlie". The poor kids would barely get out "twick o' tweet" between labored breaths, before they and to run back to the still running car with the parent yelling " Run. RUN!! Serpentine!!!"

Happened so fast, you didn't even see a costume.

And it also sucks for the kids nowadays when they have a costume they're proud of, and mom makes then put on a huge heavy coat, scarf, cap, boots, and a flashlight big enough to down a plane. So every kid I saw was dressed like a longshoresman.

So, I miss the Halloween days of yore. Even that one time I got that one 3 musketeer that was white, powdery and pitted. I looked it up and that candy bar was a decade old. Looked like an old turd from a Labrador.

At least I can go back to that house with the Smartiees...

Mr. Mike Goes to Washington

Kinda moot since i'm already here. But really, this is the story of the little guy beating the big corporate machines. The story of where i've been for the last month. And, it's a happy ending too.

Ah, where to begin.

A lot of people have been asking me where i've been all this time, as i usually post quite well. Thanks to all of you, and please, no need to worry about lil' old me anymore. Firstly, I quit my old job at OfficeMax, and the reasons are obvious to anyone whos read my previous posts. I now work at "the enemy", Office depot, but now, i'm being paid for what i did at OfficeMax. I am now the stockroom manager, instead of doing the work of the same and not getting paid for it!

And, I finaly like going to work! I love the people I work with, and I'm quite content. Right now I don't have my 3 man stocking team (it's just me right now doing 3 jobs), and I'm exhausted...but it's still good. And, this all happed in conjunction with the REAL good stuff!

Y'see, remember waaaay back when my car was sideswiped by a dumptruck (a previous post)? I got screwed about by the trucking company, the insurance company, the auto collision company... And I ending up paying out so much that I was broke with bills going into default collection. I couldn't pay rent, and all I could do was get my car back and buy new tires. I payed away my life and my car was actually fine. They tried to crush my soul...

I don't crush easily.

I did my research. Even though I didn't have a leg to stand on with the property damage payout of the accident, I had found out that the "pain and suffering" portion required me to accept some settlement. Like I was gonna settle easily! Even as energy was threatening to shut off my power and I was getting nastygrams from collectors and the landlord, I wouldn't accept the first offer the gave me 5 months later. I knew they wanted to clear the books, as it were. I wouldn't let them untill they bow down... to... me!

KNEEL before ZoD!!! It's my turn, ya bastards.

I kept my notes and spent time at the library in lawbooks. I noted the facts that the trucking company didn't want to report the accident (illegal). That they didn't report it till weeks later and kept being "unavailable" (illegal). that they didn't offer to come to my house to access the damage and instead had me tow the car to portland (illegal). that the accessment took weeks, tying up myn car in storage fees (illegal). They offered a bribe to make me go away...and so on.

That the auto collision place told me the washingfton law says the insurance HAS to pay for my rental and tow (they don't). How they charge for weekend storage at twice the rate...and they aren't open those days. How the Insurance company came to a very very low amount for my car by ignoring the going price of the same cars sold locally.

I kept notes, names and recordings. I called state attorneys. I contacted the state insurance regulatory commission. I got a public lawyer pro bono (he likes U2)...and I didn't accept any piddly offer from anyone. They were going to pay, and pay dearly. I don't scream and stomp. I get quiet, plan and observe like a chess game.

The court costs were killing me, but I knew that was their "game". Sold and hawked everything I had to stay in the game. Went days without being able to buy food or gas (the cat always ate though), and i laughed at the various increasing offers given to settle from each of the parties. Like Mr. Banker in "Deal or No Deal", if they're offering me this much, I must have a good hand. I knew they wanted to make this go away before the next fiscal quarter to make the books look clean, and I was playing the only card I had, but it was a powerful one...the big wait. This was principle (Like Victoria Principal when she was hot, and not the current version of the leatherty silicone faced makeup peddler seen in late night infomercials).

Then in late September...checkmate...Royal flush

I won all three cases, and then some. The judge even made them pay for court costs.

I not only got payed a humungous amount for Pain and Suffering, all the fees i paid to the collision center and rental was refunded. And the trucking company faired the worst...

Thanks to their ineptatude, I now have a new car:



More on that later. It's almost too geeky to mention...