1.23.1997

Dad had another episode this past Sunday. He showed up for work at the firehouse and then abruptly left "sick" after being on the job only a few hours. Mom didn't hear anything else from him or about him until late that night. The county Sheriff called her from a remote spot on the coast far North of here and informed Mom he was driving Dad back down to the mental hospital. Coincidentally, the mental hospital is within walking distance of where my parents live. My grandmother ended up in that same loonie bin on one occassion a few years ago. She had a bad habit of getting plastered on Jack Daniel's and eat nothing but Hostess' Sno Balls for days. Then she'd wander around neighborhoods at night in her 1971 white Ford LTD station wagon until she was completely lost. Once lost in her suburban rat maze nightmare she would leave the car running and walk up to someone's doorstep to howl and pee while wearing nothing but her nightgown. Dad had to take her station wagon away...

When the Sheriff got to the mental hospital with Dad in the back of his patrol car, he refused to check himself in. He had to let him go free. Dad walked through their neighborhood to get home. Mom has since forced him to see the family doctor and get some psychiatric help. Both are good I guess, but it's unfortunate he wasn't locked up in the nut house for a few days. That would have knocked some sense into his thick skull.

So here's what happened. He left work and drove North on the freeway to the coast. He got to a tiny town in the coastal mountains. Once there, he picked a peaceful remote spot and parked his truck. He placed a length of garden hose into his truck's tailpipe and then got back into the cab of his truck with the other end of the garden hose pouring engine exhaust into the cab. He had all the windows rolled up. A time later some hikers came across him and saw what he was up to. They pulled the hose out of his tailpipe and banged on the windows of the truck until he came to. When he saw people around he freaked out, put the truck in gear and fled. I think if I ever find out who those hikers were, I'm going to hurt them badly.

He then drove further North along the coast. He was trying to find some other secluded spot to off himself, but this time he would take the real coward's way out and shoot himself in the head with his little .22 pea shooter. It got dark, and while turning off the pavement onto a dirt road that seemed isolated enough for his business he blew out a tire. For whatever reason he couldn't change the tire out so he walked quite a ways until he came across a roadhouse bar. Inside the bar he was acting real strange so someone there called the Sheriff on him. When the Sheriff arrived at the joint and talked with Dad it became fairly apparent Dad was borderline wacko, and the Sheriff successfully talked him into checking in at the mental hospital. Since it was voluntary I guess the cop couldn't force Dad inside when they got to the hospital, but I wish he had been able to.

1.16.1997

Just got out of the shower. It's the first one I've had in like a week. I think. Anyway, Dad is alive. He went into a local bar with a gun in his pocket and got totally hammered. Bullwinkel must have talked some sense into him. So he's home now. Dad is totally lame for doing all this to Mom. She's really at the end of her emotional rope. Whatever it is that he thinks is happening, or going to happen, I figure it's all shit and Dad just tweaked out for no reason. I talked to him on the phone this morning and I didn't mention anything about his episode. He doesn't know I'm aware of what's going on at his place thanks to Mom calling me and finking on him.

During the phone conversation with him, he brought up all sorts of crap that didn't make much sense to me. He didn't mention anything about problems at work or being suicidal. I called him to let him know I wasn't going to be able to move the Oldsmobile until next week. He interrupted me and tried to blame the way he's been acting on drinking booze. I'm not buying it. There's more to what's causing him to act so strange. Over the past couple of years in particular he's become a lot weirder. Senility? I don't know. He acts more like an out if it grandpa, than a Dad. The jerk.

My sister called me tonight at we talked about Dad's episode. She was pumping me for information because she didn't want to call and talk to Mom or Dad herself. Damn coward. She hates Dad more than I do and has been avoiding him for years as much as she can. To my surprise she feels the same way that I do. Dad is basically weak and our Mother is dumb for not doing anything about it. Like straightening Dad out or getting a divorce. She seemed to agree with me to try to stay out of their business as much as possible. No surprise there, she only calls them when she wants something, like some dough to fix her car when it breaks down.

1.14.1997

Dad has apparently lost his mind. I'm still in shock and don't know all the details yet, but Dad thinks some people at his firehouse are out to get him. Sounds completely paranoid to me. The nasty part is he's been freaking out for days. He even called in sick to work for a whole week, in advance. Mom hasn't been making much sense. I'm having a difficult time trying to figure this all out and for the time being I've forgotten about all my petty problems.

Last night Dad told Mom he was going to the store to buy a bottle of cooking sherry. He didn't come home to her until this morning. Then he went back out again at seven this morning to get coffee and a donut. He didn't come back. His little .22 pistol is missing as well. Mom already went out and checked all the donut shops he usually goes to. She couldn't find him. Obviously, it was a lie. When Mom called me in a panic and told me Dad was gone and his pistol removed from his dresser on his side of the bed I told her to call the police. I'm hoping Dad won't pussy out and end it all over some stupid firehouse shit. Sometimes just the thought of killing yourself can get you through a rough time, rather than actually going through with it. He's probably sitting somewhere like at the beach thinking. Sooner or later he'll snap out of it.

If he does waste himself, his financial stuff and the house is going to be such a mess for Mom. I just know it. He did one of those last will and testament by mail kits. Mom probably won't have anything left after the lawyers are through with it. This whole thing is so incredibly dumb. Dad thinks these two coworkers of his are going to sue him for defamation of character or some shit. To my knowledge right now, no one is planning to take him to court. It's all in his mind. I know how he thinks. He worries constantly about the "what if" scenarios rather than worry about reality when it happens. He stays in bed awake all night chewing a toothpick into splinters staring at the ceiling with the lights out. After a few days with little or no sleep, he becomes even weirder.

Mom called me the other day and asked if I could speed up moving the Oldsmobile over to aunt Linda's place because Dad wanted to park his truck in the garage. He seems to think somebody's gonna firebomb it late at night or something. Anyway, Mom is a total emotional wreck right now, and I don't know what to make of all this other than the whole situation is bogus to say the least. I'm planning on going to work today and I'm going to pretend that none of this is happening.

Toothless vs. Lia

Jennifer had to work another closing shift for a change instead of opening up the coffee shop early in the morning like she usually does all the time. I'm sitting here at home alone after work waiting for her to show up. I mixed up a drink of vodka and Minute Maid fruit punch because I'm out of beer here in the house and I'm too lazy to go to the store. This drink tastes like shit. Put too much booze in it.

Today was lousy at work. We had another line meeting and Dayshift decided to keep Lia on Swingshift with me. I was hoping to be rid of her. In the past couple of weeks I've done everything I can to get her work improved, but I can't seem to make it happen. What's worse is Dayshift wants me to re-train her from the ground up. I was looking forward to working alone again and now I have to continue babysitting the wench.

I already started the re-training sessions. I began by having Lia watch me build a board mod, then I made her build the exact same board mod while I watched. It makes for a tedious eight hour shift. The night wore on like an elderly turtle trying to cross a road. The re-training methods proposed by management and dayshift means I'm going to sit with Lia shoulder to shoulder at a workbench while she builds 20 or 30 complete sets of board mods. She's such a slow worker that this is going to take us many days to finish up.

Sitting with Lia I had to listen to her complain about how dayshift is being mean to her, in particular Lia suspects Toothless is out to get her. I agree with Lia to a point, but if Lia's workmanship was better that would leave Toothless with very little room to sabotage her. They would have to leave Lia alone no matter how much they personally hate her, if, and only if, her work was good. I tried to explain this to Lia and I used myself as an example. I said I always make damn sure that when I'm done building something I double or triple check it to make sure I did it properly. So, every time I build a part or a whole instrument there aren't any assembly errors when it makes it into test.

No matter how much Toothless or the rest of dayshift hates me (and believe me they do) there isn't much they can do to mess with me because my work is so flawless and consistent. I suggested to Lia she tries to be like that and that if she did, they would have to shut up about her. Lia didn't seem to listen to me though. When she was mad at Toothless a while back I advised Lia to be more self assertive and talk to Toothless directly about the personal friction between the two of them. Lia told me she'd do it, but she never did and their problems with each other have continued ever since. Now things have escalated. It didn't have to. That's the funny thing I've noticed about women in the factory. Unlike most guys, the women will be sickningly sweet to one another face to face but as soon as their backs are turned they try to covertly sabotage each other by any means necessary. It's stupid. Guys will simply take things off the line and maybe throw a couple of punches, but then the problem is overwith and they go back to work like nothing happened. I've seen it frequently here and it always plays out the same way.

I certainly don't have any love for Toothless. When Lia tells me she suspects Toothless is delibrately going out of her way to be difficult and mean to Lia I believe her. Toothless is vindictive and a manipulator of our supervisors. She's also a chronic nonperformer but for some reason management can't see it even though it's right under their noses. Shit. Toothless already dusted Chuck and then Pat. Had them both thrown off the transfer project coming back from Spokane. I think Toothless would absolutely love to get me thrown off the line too. Maybe even fired. My work is too good though so in a way that makes me untouchable. Plus, I'm wise to what Toothless is up to so I try to stay a couple of steps ahead of her at all times. I told Lia how Toothless tries to control other people in the production area and if she can't find a way to do that she finds a way to get rid of them. I also told Lia how Toothless tried fucking with me up in Spokane. The ironic thing of it all is Toothless makes worse assembly mistakes on a regular basis than Lia does, but for some unexplained reason Toothless gets away with it.

Birthday Dinner

Tomorrow is my Mom's 50th birthday. Dad arranged for a surprise birthday dinner for her at her favorite French restaurant tonight. I've got to leave to be there in about an hour. Dad has been a real asshole about setting it all up though. He sort of changed the date for this surprise dinner last minute so Jennifer would have a difficult time getting to the resturant. She doesn't get off from work until 6 or 6:30. When I asked Dad if it would be okay for Jennifer to come to the dinner late he got angry about it and snapped "We will all be done eating by the time she gets there." He's so full of shit. I told Jennifer the same thing, that my Dad is full of shit. So, I told Jennifer not to bother showing up. I don't want to go, either. Dad is going to act like a fucker the whole time I just know it. He's going to be annoying, and my sister is going to be her usual lame self. I don't have any idea what to give my Mom for being fifty years old.

Dad suggested I bring some crummy balloons or flowers for her. The balloon idea is too stupid for me to handle. She's not a kid. I called a couple of floral shops earlier this afternoon and they all seem to be closed on Sunday. So I'm out of luck. The way Dad spoke to me over the phone the other day about the balloon idea I get the feeling the balloons would be for him more than for my Mom. He also implored me not to wear my mangy grey Irish cap to the restaurant. He was being so weird about it that I laughed at him into the phone receiver. He's acting like such a loser these days.

Lia

We're getting more people on the production line. The dust has finally settled from our move out of Spokane, and the last of their trainers have left for home. Management got it in their heads we had to have a few more bodies in the area. We didn't really need them, but whatever. Our supervisors scrounged around for anyone they could find. The only people we got are turning out to be more bottom of the barrel losers that keep getting shuffled around from area to area. Really, I don't know why line supervisors don't get these people straightened out. Must be afraid of lawsuits.

One of the new bodies we got is an old Filipina woman named Lia. They tossed her on swingshift with me, and let me tell you it sucks. Lia doesn't read English very well so I figure that's why she makes so many dumb mistakes in her work. I've ruled everything else out at this point by careful observation and by spending alot of time talking with her. Being illiterate would explain alot more things about Lia that are weird actually. I've been doing everything I can to train her properly but man, it's frustrating. She's either just that stupid or she's doing an excellent job of pretending to read all the documentation on the instruments she's building when I'm around. The docs are laid out really well so even an eight year old could build some of this stuff. Each page has a color photograph or mechanical drawing of the part of the box you have to build, or wire or solder. And on each page there could be like three or four steps you have to do in a certain order. Each step is color coded as well as numbered. After a while you can just memorize the step color codes and not even pay attention to the numbers anymore. All the parts you need are clearly marked in the photos and drawings with their corresponding part numbers. It's mindlessly simple.

When I find a instrument that's BBQ'ed a PC board, or the techs bring back a box that's completely jacked up, I've been able to trace the root cause back to operator error. Lately it's all been Lia's work. No matter how professional or delicate I am when approaching her with feedback she always gives me the same reply, "I no do." Makes me want to strangle her. Really. I mean, once or twice I can let this slide. But every damn time I have to bring back something she messed up to show her and all I get is an "I no do" that really starts to piss me off. Not to mention the fact it's wasting the technicians time as well as mine. I feel like I'm babysitting a 55+ year old island dingbat. Swingshift was much better when I was alone. Ironically, since management thought we needed more people and they got Lia we're now getting less work out on a daily basis. Way to go, guys.

I mentioned to one of the dayshift slobs that I thought Lia can't read English. I don't know why I let it slip, but I shot my mouth off to one of the worst ones, The Troll. She'll tell everyone on the line what I said and it will make it back to Lia's ears. I should keep my mouth shut, but I never do. When am I gonna learn?

Strip Clubs Are For Chumps

We went into the city to see Trish dance topless at the club. Trish didn't give us very good directions to get to the joint though and I was worried we may not be able to find the place. Fortunately my friend Gabe lives on 43rd Avenue and he didn't have anything better to do for the evening so we picked him up and he knew exactly where this strip club was located. That helped lower my stress levels. I always get stressed out fast trying to find places in the city for the first time. Coincidentally the strip joint was near the art college Gabe has been attending. The tit-bar was fucking expensive. It was 20 bucks per dude and 10 per wench. I only brought 40 bucks with me because Trish told Jennifer it was 10 per dude and wenches were free. That wasn't the case. I explained what we were told to the girl cashier at the door, and grudgingly paid the 40 dollars for Gabe and myself to get in. Jennifer ended up getting in for free and because I complained to the girl at the cash register she gave me two free passes for my next visit just so I would shut up. I probably won't be making a next visit though.

There was an ATM in the lobby so I got another 20 dollar bill and followed Gabe and Jennifer to a table. They were being led by a little blonde cocktail waitress in a tight gold minidress. When I caught up with them, Jennifer was already looking for her friends that were supposed to be meeting us there. As we sat down Jennifer spotted a couple of her coworkers from the coffee shop and tore off in their direction. The instant my ass hit the chair a waitress came out of fucking nowhere and asked us if we both wanted drinks. Of course we did, but after seeing how expensive it was to get in to the strip joint I was reluctant to start ordering stuff without getting some prices first. The waitress told us that mixed drinks from the bar were $9.50 and most beers were $8.50. I said "Ouch!" to the waitress and asked "What's cheapest here?" Miller, was her response. It was $5.75 a glass. That was still rough, but better than a watered down rum and coke at $9.50. I looked at Gabe and told him it was going to be a Miller night. I could tell by the look on his face he was also shocked at how expensive the drinks were.

A few minutes later our waitress came back with our beers and as she set them down on the table she jokingly said, "It's Miller time!" I think she was a little sympathetic to how much we were getting price gouged on the drinks, and maybe she even felt a little sorry for us. I paid for the beers and tipped the waitress a couple of extra bones then Gabe and I moved to an empty table right behind where Jennifer sat down with her friends from work. Jennifer looked fucking beautiful. She had on a tight black miniskirt, white nylons, pointy little black shoes, and a skin tight blue top. I made sure she didn't notice, but I kept checking her out. As the strippers came out onto the stage one by one and started doing their routines revealing their breasts, I realized that even the dancers with huge fake tits didn't compare against Jennifer's mighty 36D's. I felt proud.

Meanwhile, girls in tight skimpy mesh minidresses were wandering around through the seated crowd pimping themselves out for lap dances and attempting to lure customers to the VIP rooms in the back. Some of the more attractive ones came over to where Gabe and I sat. Funny thing was, none of them stopped to talk to Gabe. Not the good looking ones anyway. They came over to me and introduced themselves. Each time they tried to get me to take a lap dance from them, I politely declined. Then they would get up from the table and walk past Gabe without even looking at him twice. It was like he didn't exist. Jennifer also noticed the women were giving Gabe the brush off. She pointed at him and laughed a few times when a dancer wouldn't stop to talk to him. It was kinda funny. I think the reason they didn't pay him any attention was he didn't dress up for going out on the town. He looked grubby in his worn out shirt and jeans. The dancers probably figured he was broke, and they were right. He was.

One of the girls decided to talk to Gabe after I told her I wasn't interested in a lap dance. I could just catch some of their conversation over the loud music being blasted into the stage area. She sat down next to him and asked him what his name was. "Gabriel." He told her. "Oh, like the angel?" She said. "Uh, yeah. Sort of. An angel of Satan!" Gabe yelled at her. The dancer mumbled some junk I couldn't hear and then put forth her best fake smile and walked away. I really laughed hard when I heard Gabe say the angel of Satan bit. He's a total dork but I had to give him credit for that one.

Trish eventually made an appearance on the floor. Her routine on the center stage was okay but after seeing a half dozen other girls perform before her, it got a little boring. It was an interesting opportunity to see one of Jennifer's coworkers topless, but I never thought of Trish as being very attractive so she didn't keep my attention for long. I did have a great time watching her milk a geeky blonde haired muscular looking guy for every last dollar in his wallet. That was damn amusing. I could tell she was really enjoying working this poor slob over and I knew that no matter what he did, he wasn't going to be getting her phone number or into her pants or anything. He wanted to pick up on her bad. Then he bought two lap dances in a row from her and he bought a club T-shirt for her to sign or some shit. As the night wore on, he followed Trish around the club like a lost puppy. That was when it stopped being funny for me to watch and it all became pathetic. It was depressing. See, Trish is lesbian so no guy at the club was going to be getting any play from Trish under any circumstances. She told me many of the girls working at the strip joint as dancers were only into girls. It hadn't occurred to me some of them would be lesbian, but after I thought about it some, it made alot of sense.

While Trish was dancing on the center stage, Jennifer pulled three one dollar bills out of her purse and handed one each to me and Gabe. She kept one for herself. After we had the loot in our mitts, Jennifer instructed both Gabe and I to walk up to Trish and put the money in her panties. At first, I didn't want to do it, and neither did Gabe. I thought about it quickly and reconsidered. What the hell. I walked up alongside the dancefloor and stood there like a complete idiot holding out the single dollar bill for all to see. Trish danced her way over to me and gracefully put one of her arms behind my skull, the other arm was covering her scrawny boobies. She whispered into my ear, "How am I doing?" I stuffed the dollar down her panties and lied to her. "You're all right" I said. She smiled and danced away from me. Gabe and Jennifer went up to the stage one at a time after I sat back down at our table. I laughed watching Jennifer with a half naked woman putting money in her G-string. So silly.

We left at one in the morning. I was exhausted. I wanted to drop Gabe off at his place and head straight home to crash out. By the time we got back to his crummy apartment on 43rd I had to piss so bad my toes were curling up in my shoes and I couldn't see straight. As soon as we got inside I jammed into the bathroom and leaked for a really long time. It felt so good to pee, that a self satisfied smirk broke across my face.

I don't expect I'll waste my time in a topless club ever again. It didn't do much for me. While I have to admit there were some truly beautiful women there, none of the dancers gave me a boner. Lap dances are for retardeds. I was annoyed with the expense of getting in and the steep prices on drinks. Watching losers have their wallets expertly drained of cash by women who could care less about them seemed depressing to me. And observing desperate men dishing out that cash with the remote hope of getting to pick up on a stripper was even more depressing. I think I could have a better time at home with a mid-grade bottle of red wine and a shoddy porno magazine. Save me a bunch of loot, too.

1.4.1997

Jennifer and I are supposed to go to a tit-bar in the city tonight. One of her coworkers at the coffee shop, a girl named Trish, is going to be dancing at a strip club from seven in the evening until two in the morning. She just got hired at the place and she wants as many friends as possible to come see her routine. It sounded like fun yesterday when Jennifer first mentioned it, but now I'm not feeling very well and I'd rather not go. Jennifer wanted to spend time cleaning house today so I volunteered to deal with the shower. Since I moved in with her I haven't cleaned it, and to my knowledge Jennifer has never bothered to cleanse her bathroom shower either. She's been living in this house for a couple of years, and the bathroom rainbox was a mangy mess.

Careful selection of cleaning products was essential in my opening attack upon the shower. I relentlessly went after the soap scum and black mold covering the tiles with Formula 409, and Ajax powder. In my scrubbing frenzy I used the Ajax liberally and I think I must have inhaled some of the powder by accident. I gassed myself. That's why I feel ill. My nose hurts, I have a bad headache, and I'm a little sick to my stomach. The shower looks damn good now though. Ironically, Jennifer hasn't done a damn thing around here today even though it was her idea to spend the afternoon housecleaning. She's back in bed sleeping. Lousy bum.

Got rid of the Christmas tree today, and I put away all of the lights. Boxed up all the ornaments too. They'll sit in the livingroom closet collecting dust for another year.

This morning was interesting. Jennifer made coffee and baked fresh cherry scones. We listened to some CDs on her laserdisc player and relaxed. While we were lounging on the couch I took her shirt off and playfully poured honey onto her nipples. I licked it all off of her tits, which drove her crazy. Then she jerked me off and I spewed my man-paste all over her chest and the pillow behind her head. She completely freaked out about the pillow when she saw the load spattered on it. I mean, she made such a big deal out of it that was so overdramatic and ridiculous that she threatened to throw the pillow in the garbage can. I laughed at her. All it needed was a ride in the washing machine and it would be good as new. Busting my nuts with her on the couch reminded me of an old Frank Zappa song Senor 23 has been playing alot lately. It's got a line in it saying, "Don't get no jizz up on the sofa". Truly, these are words of wisdom. I laughed even more when I thought about those lyrics and watched Jennifer's temper tantrum.

It was total porno action with Jennifer on the couch. This needs to happen more often. Yo.

Fat Pat

I'm bored. I wanted to go in to work a little while ago but I've got to sit around the house for a couple of hours. The landlord, a guy named Don, is supposed to call me sometime this afternoon. The ceiling in the kitchen started leaking again during the heavy rain we had over the past few days. Jennifer and I complained months ago when the ceiling first began to leak, but the property manager Don uses never got back to us. I called the property manager's office again yesterday but apparently they were closed so I left another message on their answering machine. I nicknamed the property manager Fat Pat, because she's insanely overweight and Pat is her first name. Fat Pat's face is very pig-like. It hurts my eyes when I have to look at her.

I think as a property manager, Fat Pat sucks. She never remembers who I am when I talk to her over the phone and she seldom bothers to return calls. The whole idea of being a property manager is to take care of problems so the landlord doesn't have to deal with them, and the tenants never have to see or hear from the landlord. Now I've got to explain the leaky ceiling situation a second time and work this all out with two nitwits, instead of one.

One weekend Fat Pat showed up on our doorstep unannounced, which I think is illegal or something because they are supposed to call 24 hours ahead and schedule an appointment. When Jennifer opened the front door that day to discover our lazy, obese property manager staring down at her from the porch, she was a little shocked. The reason of Fat Pat's visit was to inform us that we had to work in the yard at least once a month to keep the place tidy, or some shit. I got really mad and told her that the landlord either hired Mexicans once a week to do landscaping and yard maintenance, or he came by and did it himself. She pretended to be unaware of this, which pissed me off even more. There wasn't anything in our rental agreement with this human swine that said we had to do any kind of maintenance around the house. I informed Fat Pat we weren't going to do a god damned thing in the yard and she attempted to argue with me about it. I was up for the brawl, because I hate stupid people like Fat Pat. When I was finished with the eat-monster she was walking as fast as she could for her car parked across the street. She hasn't shown up at our place since then. And that's a good thing.