The bad time

Soooo....

Tuesday sucked because I had to get up at 4:30am to meet Gary, his boss, and our operations manager at 5:45am for our trip to Windsor, CT to take a stupid class on something called "Earned Value" (it's basically a productivity metric for manufacturing). Gary and I sat in the backseat while the Big Boss drove. Since I'm a vampire and therefore completely unprepared for conversation at such ungodly hours, I was quiet, occassionally chiming in with a "yep" or a "nope" when they asked me if I was "comfortable back there" or if I needed to "drain the man-pipe." If there's one thing I've learned in corporate america, it's that even during business lunches and travel, bathroom humor does not cease to be part of the male vocabulary. Not too long ago I was on a business lunch and the following statement was made: "There's no such thing as a bad fuck." This was spoken by a 50-year-old engineering manager who, by all accounts, was a rather dull, boring guy. And he felt COMPLETELY COMFORTABLE saying this in front of people. And the other guys joined right in: "Yeah, being married has its downsides, but at least you don't have to wear a condom." "Hey, look at her. She's something. I'll tell ya, I might be old, but I'm not dead!" "Har har har har har har har!"

Kill me.

Oh, so wait, finishing up my trip to Windsor, the course was fairly informative, but painstakingly boring in spots, and we didn't get a break for lunch. The class started at 8:00am and lasted right up until 5pm, by which time my senses were completely dulled. I slept most of the way home, not caring how it might look to my boss or his boss. I'm glad I was able to sleep, because whenever I was awake, I became aware that our driver was EVIL KNIEVEL and loved the sound of other cars beeping at us and almost getting us hit by a giant Mack truck at the Massachusettes toll. He was a terrible fucking driver.

What I've realized over the past two months of depressing worklife, is that I don't care as much about making people happy. As a result of the whole "internal investigation" fiasco, which pretty much disillusioned and demoralized my whole attitude towards my job, my work ethic has just plummeted. Whether it's my boss or the plant manager, or anybody really, I don't make the extra effort I normally would. Will it come back? I have no idea. Gary's gotta make me care again about what we do and show me we have value. Because honestly I don't see it anymore.

Wednesday sucked because Lori was on vacation. Same with Thursday. Friday was alright because I fell in love once again with VANILLA SKY. What an awesome and engaging flick. It was almost as good as the second time I saw it, which was perhaps one of the best movie experiences of my life.

And you all know what happened on Saturday during the ND Vs. USC game. I watched it, I loved it, I hated it, and I couldn't take my mind off of it. With 1:30 left on the clock and ND ahead 31-28, I drafted a text messages to Sco (who was at the game with his gf Alli and roommate Adam) and Jude, that read: "YAAAAAAHOOOOOOO!"

Unfortunately, I never got to press SEND, because ND lost in the final seconds after two VERY DUBIOUS plays that deserved the instant replay (which wasn't available because USC, as the visiting team, didn't want it). I was shocked and saddened at the outcome, but managed to stay positive in the face of some of my dad's more unforgiving comments -- "Notre Dame can't close a game," "They should've won, but they blew it." In a nutshell, my opinion is that the Irish are a better team after having played that game; they proved they're one of the best teams in the country; and it was a perfect example of why ND football is so amazing. Boom.

Sunday was a pleasant day because our old neighbor Dave Inman had come up to visit my parents and took the time to stop by for a bit and see my place. We hung around, talked, and then we watched the last 5 minutes of the Steelers game, which contributed even more to my giant volcano of frustration. At the end of that pathetic display of football, my dad screamed out: "SHOOT 'EM! Line 'em up, and SHOOT 'EM!"

Then we drove around Portsmouth, walked through Prescott Park, saw Rye Beach and other local spots, and then headed up to Ogunquit ME for dinner at the Lobster Pound. Food was mediocre-to-good, but enjoyable conversation made up for it, especially my dad's input into my potential business ideas.

Sunday night I talked to Jude for quite a bit. He's transitioning to a new job in Watertown NY and hasn't had convenient internet access for a while, so I've missed reading his blog (updates are now coming in fast & furious), so it was nice to talk to him the "old-fashioned" way and catch up.

Oh, and last Saturday I saw THE HISTORY OF VIOLENCE, which in my opinion is being overpraised simply because it's a Cronenberg film. It's good, very good in spots, but it doesn't break any kind of ground and is a rather normal thriller, with of course more gore than usual (and the camera lingers on it longer). I suspect that if this exact same film had been made by some no-name studio director, the critical response would've been a lot more subdued. I'd give it 3.25/5.

Tonight Lori came back from vacation and we met for Laguna night. If you watched tonight's episode, you know the sudden turn of events between LC and Jason. This has shocked me to no end. LC is the most down-to-earth gal on the show, and Jason is a slimeball who has cheated on two girlfriends in a row. What an odd pair. God I love this show. I even flirted with the idea of dressing up as Stephen for Halloween -- dye my hair black, spike it up, put on a fake tan and walk around with my hands in the air -- but no one would get it.



Laguna Matt says: "The operation was worth it. Look at me! I am finally cool."