The folks at Starter usually make some pretty decent athletic apparel. I was never into some of the jackets and track suits that the homies like to wear, but I've bought my share of Starter gear over the years. Case in point - I got some new underwear a few days ago. They're the boxer-brief hybrid sort of thingies. I tend to find boxers to be more comfortable for casual wear, but they come up a little short in terms of securing my pecker and nads during a workout. Regular briefs aren't very comfortable to me, plus I think they look a little... I don't know... something.
So anyhow, there I was at the gym tonight. I actually had a bit of an unintentional wardrobe coordination going for me, now that I think about it - Starter sweats and Starter drawers. Most of my sweatpants are Champion brand, but I have a few pairs of Starters in the rotation. Tonight's t-shirt was made by some other company whose logo I don't recognize. So anyhow, like I said, there I was. During my customary warmup on the treadmill, I noticed that I didn't really like the way the new undies were 'riding,' so to speak. Like a good little trooper though, I just continued along. Then it was time to hit the weights.
Shoulder night tonight. Hooray. I assume that it's because I worked all day before heading to the gym, but for some reason that 110lb. barbell felt awfully heavy during my first set of upright rows. My shoulders were screaming for mercy and I hadn't entirely caught my breath from the treadmill session yet, so I decided to sit down and relax for a minute between sets. And that's when it happened. My left nut got positioned incorrectly against the left leg portion of my pretty new undies. Instead of sitting squarely in the middle of the little ball holder region of the apparel, it was off doing it's own thing. As I sat down and the fabric shifted to accomodate my changing position... oy! That really fucking hurt. There's not really any indication that I'll be trying to father any children in the foreseeable future, but hopefully the option still exists. Just in case I meet that elusive wealthy broad or something.
The rest of the workout, after some recuperation from the incident, went solidly. When it's terribly difficult for me to remove my shirt or to wash my head in the shower once I'm finished, we can be sure that it was a good shoulder workout.
Work was pretty solid today as well. I pulled two loads, each with only two stops. The first trailer took me to two stores in Saginaw. Then the second trailer took me to Brighton and Grand Blanc. No issues on either load really, other than the fact that the teenage lass receiving the delivery in Grand Blanc caught me chuckling to myself. When pressed for a reason, I gave the obligatory "nothing" in response. I didn't have the heart to tell the poor girl that I'm pretty sure I married her 13 years ago. Back then I was dumb enough to think it was fine for a gal to bitch at anyone and everything, as long as she was nice to me. Now I know better. One of these days, some poor sucker is going to wish I had been around to warn him about this girl in Grand Blanc. A milk delivery is clearly not a long term commitment though, so I just enjoyed my little chuckle as she complained about everyone and everything. Then I got the hell out of there while I still found her amusing. Good deal.
As I wind down this night, it just occurred to me that I have to return my rental car tomorrow. Since my own car isn't due back in my possession until some point later in the week, I suppose I'll have to pony up some more dough and get another week's rental. And I have a bunch of dirty laundry too, just for kicks. Something about this employment by day and training by night nonsense seems to make me burn through clean clothes in a hurry. Fun times on the good old day off, to be sure.
Did the Redskins really lose today? Wow. They really are still good and shitty, eh? They fit right in with my other chosen programs. Tigers just over .500 for the year. Notre Dame probably gonna be around .500 for the year... if they're lucky. And now these guys. The Wings will always make the playoffs though, and nobody can take that from me.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
9/25/10
Note to self: It's probably time to start packing a jacket when you go to work.
Other note to self: Your football team probably won't beat anybody good this year, so it's probably time to find something else to occupy your Saturday afternoons.
Oh well. At least work went smoothly. We do spend quite a bit of our lives working, after all. It tends to be a good thing when we can earn a buck without any major hassles. Two loads tomorrow, meaning that my earnings will be fairly solid, and my 'Skins should probably be favored to win. Good enough.
I have an 11am pull time for tomorrow, so I decided against a late workout tonight. One of these nights I'll have to get a little sleep. Plus I'm feeling pretty sore these days, so I guess the timing for a night of rest and relaxation was probably about right. Now let's see about that sleep part...
Other note to self: Your football team probably won't beat anybody good this year, so it's probably time to find something else to occupy your Saturday afternoons.
Oh well. At least work went smoothly. We do spend quite a bit of our lives working, after all. It tends to be a good thing when we can earn a buck without any major hassles. Two loads tomorrow, meaning that my earnings will be fairly solid, and my 'Skins should probably be favored to win. Good enough.
I have an 11am pull time for tomorrow, so I decided against a late workout tonight. One of these nights I'll have to get a little sleep. Plus I'm feeling pretty sore these days, so I guess the timing for a night of rest and relaxation was probably about right. Now let's see about that sleep part...
Friday, September 24, 2010
9/24/10
I dropped off some cash at the auto shop before work this morning, so my new engine should be arriving some time early next week. It appears that I'm on schedule to get my car back by next Friday. The mechanic recommended that I have him install a new thermostat while he's at it. Sounds good to me, dude. Might as well make sure that new engine stays nice and cool. I was pretty surprised by the price though. I'm not a car guy, so I could be completely mistaken here, but I seem to remember buying a thermostat for my old Mustang for something like ten bucks. The one for my Mazda 6 will cost quite a bit more. Life in the modern world, I guess. Oh well, what's another few bucks once you're already into it for a few thousand, right?
I have stops in Jackson, Lansing, and Okemos scheduled for tomorrow. It should be a decent seven hours of work, barring any major issues, but of course I got another late pull time so my FloTV will be my only chance to see any of the football game. Probably sparing me from the misery of seeing any more of our defense than I have to.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
9/23/10
Heh. We take your taxpayer bailout money here in Michigan and we use it for good causes... or something.
Suckers.
It hasn't exaclty been a secret that quite a bit of this blog's focus revolves around studies in psychology. Whether we discuss the thought process that causes people to leave society and become truck drivers or we discuss the irrational behavior of the dipshits on the freeway, human nature is always intriguing to me. As I continue on my march toward my inevitable doom, aging is one of those areas that warrants some level of observation.
I turned 34 years old a couple of weeks ago. My oldest friend is 97 years old, so I guess you could say that he has a few years on me. In the interest of accuracy I should note that one of my best friends is 75 years old and his father is the older fella in question. That being said, the old(er) man and I have become buddies over the years. He tells me stories about life in the place that was once America and I offer wisecracks about what we've now become. We each get our own amusement and no animals are harmed during the process.
Mr. Pedro, as it turns out, has begun to fall under the spell of the dreaded Alzheimer's Disease. He has his good days and he has his bad days. I won't even pretend to be an expert on the topic, but it seems to me that he has more good days than bad whenever I find the time to stop by and visit for a while. Today was no exception. The weather forecast proved to be terribly inaccurate today, so I was able to stop by and do some grilling. Thunderstorms my ass. I wasn't in the mood for beer for some reason, which is a disturbing development in and of itself, but the food turned out to be excellent. That's always nice.
As the afternoon turned to evening, we sat around and enjoyed the pleasant atmosphere. Amidst his usual stories about killing Japs in World War II, Mr. Pedro offered an interesting side note. Apparently his boss called yesterday to ask about a meeting that is scheduled for this weekend. Of course he has no boss since he retired many years ago and there is no meeting this weekend, but I got to thinking. Is it so bad for people to lose track of time and place as their remaining years grow fewer? I don't know. I suppose that the process is pretty tough on the families and loved ones who have to watch the process unfold, but I'm not so sure that the afflicted would be any better off if they were in a state of full awareness. Life in the year 2010 ain't exactly a romance novel.
In any event, I enjoyed the opportunity to spend some time among dear friends on my day off. I've made it pretty clear to you folks that life has been a boring son of a bitch since I left the road, so I appreciate every chance to break up the monotony. When you mix in some hot charcoal and tasty sausages, I have no complaints.
Speaking of psychology and no complaints, this car situation is interesting to me. Without exception, I find that I'm far less concerned about it than anyone who has anything to say to me. Which generic psychological precepts are in play? I don't know. I just know that, having spent far too many years chasing (and often catching) the mighty dollar, I don't really care all that much anymore. Things cost what they cost and bad things happen when they shouldn't happen. Fuck it. Life moves on. (I'll gladly accept a dollar from anyone who has expressed some form of disappointment that a motor would fail after 50,000 miles though. Pony up now, suckers.)
I got a call from my appointed mechanic this afternoon. According to him, it was quite difficult to find an engine for my little Mazda. The nearest one was in Texas and it had logged 100,000 miles. Obviously I wasn't convinced about this line of bullshit, so I drove over to the shop. After a brief conversation, the mechanic and I wound up on the same page. I had seen plenty of engines for less than $3,000 on Mr. Gore's internet. He had seen the same, but had been under the impression that he needed to keep my price down as much as possible. Therefore he was working the junkyard channels and trying to find the best deal. I informed the fella that I would prefer a remanufactured engine with a warranty. Rolling the dice on some Bubba in a junkyard just isn't my style. He said that I would have to pay around $4,000 total for parts and labor. This was about what I expected, so we had a deal. Good. That's one less thing.
All that was left was to take some of the excess sausages over to my father and my little brother, then to head home for the night. Dad is still working on his physical therapy as he recovers from knee replacement surgery, so I didn't stay around too long. I did wind up with a rifle that will likely be the subject of a future post, but otherwise it was an uneventful visit. Homeward we go...
I have a pull time of 1pm tomorrow, so I expect to get a decent amount of sleep tonight. I haven't managed to sleep much lately but a fella can dream. I'll have two stops in Jackson and one in Hillsdale, so my shift won't exactly be a peachy one, but I intend to survive. That's what I do after all. I survive. This is a psychological trait known as self-preservation. Learn it and love it.
That is all.
Suckers.
It hasn't exaclty been a secret that quite a bit of this blog's focus revolves around studies in psychology. Whether we discuss the thought process that causes people to leave society and become truck drivers or we discuss the irrational behavior of the dipshits on the freeway, human nature is always intriguing to me. As I continue on my march toward my inevitable doom, aging is one of those areas that warrants some level of observation.
I turned 34 years old a couple of weeks ago. My oldest friend is 97 years old, so I guess you could say that he has a few years on me. In the interest of accuracy I should note that one of my best friends is 75 years old and his father is the older fella in question. That being said, the old(er) man and I have become buddies over the years. He tells me stories about life in the place that was once America and I offer wisecracks about what we've now become. We each get our own amusement and no animals are harmed during the process.
Mr. Pedro, as it turns out, has begun to fall under the spell of the dreaded Alzheimer's Disease. He has his good days and he has his bad days. I won't even pretend to be an expert on the topic, but it seems to me that he has more good days than bad whenever I find the time to stop by and visit for a while. Today was no exception. The weather forecast proved to be terribly inaccurate today, so I was able to stop by and do some grilling. Thunderstorms my ass. I wasn't in the mood for beer for some reason, which is a disturbing development in and of itself, but the food turned out to be excellent. That's always nice.
As the afternoon turned to evening, we sat around and enjoyed the pleasant atmosphere. Amidst his usual stories about killing Japs in World War II, Mr. Pedro offered an interesting side note. Apparently his boss called yesterday to ask about a meeting that is scheduled for this weekend. Of course he has no boss since he retired many years ago and there is no meeting this weekend, but I got to thinking. Is it so bad for people to lose track of time and place as their remaining years grow fewer? I don't know. I suppose that the process is pretty tough on the families and loved ones who have to watch the process unfold, but I'm not so sure that the afflicted would be any better off if they were in a state of full awareness. Life in the year 2010 ain't exactly a romance novel.
In any event, I enjoyed the opportunity to spend some time among dear friends on my day off. I've made it pretty clear to you folks that life has been a boring son of a bitch since I left the road, so I appreciate every chance to break up the monotony. When you mix in some hot charcoal and tasty sausages, I have no complaints.
Speaking of psychology and no complaints, this car situation is interesting to me. Without exception, I find that I'm far less concerned about it than anyone who has anything to say to me. Which generic psychological precepts are in play? I don't know. I just know that, having spent far too many years chasing (and often catching) the mighty dollar, I don't really care all that much anymore. Things cost what they cost and bad things happen when they shouldn't happen. Fuck it. Life moves on. (I'll gladly accept a dollar from anyone who has expressed some form of disappointment that a motor would fail after 50,000 miles though. Pony up now, suckers.)
I got a call from my appointed mechanic this afternoon. According to him, it was quite difficult to find an engine for my little Mazda. The nearest one was in Texas and it had logged 100,000 miles. Obviously I wasn't convinced about this line of bullshit, so I drove over to the shop. After a brief conversation, the mechanic and I wound up on the same page. I had seen plenty of engines for less than $3,000 on Mr. Gore's internet. He had seen the same, but had been under the impression that he needed to keep my price down as much as possible. Therefore he was working the junkyard channels and trying to find the best deal. I informed the fella that I would prefer a remanufactured engine with a warranty. Rolling the dice on some Bubba in a junkyard just isn't my style. He said that I would have to pay around $4,000 total for parts and labor. This was about what I expected, so we had a deal. Good. That's one less thing.
All that was left was to take some of the excess sausages over to my father and my little brother, then to head home for the night. Dad is still working on his physical therapy as he recovers from knee replacement surgery, so I didn't stay around too long. I did wind up with a rifle that will likely be the subject of a future post, but otherwise it was an uneventful visit. Homeward we go...
I have a pull time of 1pm tomorrow, so I expect to get a decent amount of sleep tonight. I haven't managed to sleep much lately but a fella can dream. I'll have two stops in Jackson and one in Hillsdale, so my shift won't exactly be a peachy one, but I intend to survive. That's what I do after all. I survive. This is a psychological trait known as self-preservation. Learn it and love it.
That is all.
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