Cue the gameshow music. It’s time for our favorite game:
NoGoodDaddy sits at PHL!
Woohoo. Another delayed flight! Fucking to the Awe-Some
Yup…here at PHL yet again. There’s weather settled in over the area and nothing’s getting gin or out tonight it seems. So, it’s me, a Heineken and my laptop with 2 hours to kill.
The Canes are trying not to rip the collective heart out of Raleigh on the TV above me. I’ll try to pretend to care just on accounta I live there. But, Hockey? Come on. I’d rather watch the World Cup. In fact, the World Cup shows what type of sports derelict I am; I’m intrigued by it. Then again, I’ll watch any sporting event that has a winner and a loser. Hmmm…I wonder who else is doing this (Now, here’s where I should put in a link to Smed, but my linking cheat sheet, much to my dismay is on my home PC and not here on the laptop.) Anyhoo…go USA or something. I watched them tie my Mother Country on Saturday while printing way too many sheets of paper. Good for HealthCareRelatedCompany. We managed to print nearly 200,000 pages on Saturday. Why? Beats me. I mean, does anyone want a 20,000 page backup to your invoice? Heard of a CD people? Fuckall.
So, knowing that my flight tonight was delayed, I knew I had time to kill. I also had to poop.
Wait…speaking of poop. Here’s a story. Now, I know that you all are hella jealous of my Presidentialness. Admit it, you are. You’d like nothing more than just to be in my presence. I know it. It’s a cross that I bear.
I got email from JewelrySlut earlier.
“Someperson at LocalAddress called. She needs to talk to you about something. Call any time. The message is saved”
Ok…I check the message
“Hi NoGoodDaddy this is YourNeighbor. I wanted to talk to you about something. I live in Court 3…on the end. And, my neighbor’s cat got into my backyard and pooped (Yes…she said pooped. Not crapped, not ‘went to the bathroom’…she said ‘pooped’) And then, her god came over and pooped too. So, I wanted to talk to you about it. Also, if you’re going to be working on the clubhouse, I’d like to help.”
About halfway through the message, my head burst into flames.
Reminds me of another story.
I went to bed at 10:00 last night. I was beat. I woke up at about 12, confused and thirsty. I had a drink and went back to sleep. At 12:15, my pager went off. I was there in bed, very confused, staring across the room at it wondering “Wow…that’s my pager. This can’t be good” I got up and saw the number for our mainframe people on it. This was not good on 2 levels. 1: They should NOT be calling me. I’m not on the on-call list. 2: Oh shit.
“Hello…this is NoGoodDaddy from Print Ops. What’s up”
(Techno talk starting) “Well, printer 900 keeps draining and we keep having to restart it manually. The automation isn’t working.”
“OK…not to be this guy but what, exactly, do you want me to do about it. From the sounds of things, this is a HealthCareRelatedCompany issue, not one for RedVendor. Plus, I don’t have access to see or control the printer. What do you want
(Universe Man..Universe Man…size of the entire Universe Man…)
me to do about it? Just start the thing and keep starting it. That or wake someone up from MVS. Otherwise, I’m going back to sleep”
“Um…OK then. Sorry to bother you”
Back to cat poop lady. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that nugget (pardon the pun) of knowledge? I mean…what the hell? Am I to go to her house and clean the poop”
Eat the cat poop! Eat the cat poop! (name the movie and win a prize)
I called JewelrySlut and got her voicemail:
“Hon…Hi. So…you left me that extremely vague email just to see how I’d respond to the message, didn’t you?”
2 minutes later
“Hi….Yes. I mean how could I possibly do that message justice”
“She said ‘poop’”
“Yes she did. Good luck with that”
See, I love the woman very much. She hung me out to dry on purpose. I can’t tell you how much that makes me love her. I mean…a lot.
Where was I? Oh yea…so I had to poop. I went with Cohort to his hotel (my usual hotel…but it was booked (and when this is over, the NoGoodDaddy hotel review extravaganza is coming)) to use the potty and check my flight. Well, the computer was down and the little Korean kid who works there was in the stall, talking on the phone. I’ve used the lobby bathroom 3 times. He’s been on the john, on the phone all 3 times. So, I had to poop. I needed someplace that offered a chance at cleanliness. Where did it occur to me to go you ask?
That’s right…IKEA baby! There’s an IKEA right at my exit from the PA Turnpike. And, me and JewelrySlut do love us some Ikea. And with no Ikea in NC, we’ve been in withdrawal. So, to Ikea I went. I mean could I be gayer? I could just start sucking dick I presume. But, a single guy going to Ikea comes close. And, considering my little getup of plaid shirt, khaki shorts and sandals, I was seriously trolling for cock.
Anyway…$70 dollars and a few logs later, I was one happy asshole. I bought Shmuppie some hanging storage things that we can put in her playroom to hold her ever-increasing volume of crap. I also bought her some finger puppets and a little baking set that had the cutest little rolling pin. I bought JewelrySlut a dozen little glass pinch bowls and some candles. I seriously considered leaving all my clothes on the side of the road and just filling my suitcase. I mean…IKEA (This is where I should put links to people like Kristin Tracy and MimiSmartypants (my hella D-Land crush…seriously, JewelrySlut is on notice, if MimiSmartypants comes to the door with Nora and wants me to come along, I’m grabbing Shmuppie and going without asking questions) were I not a linkless dork. Go look them up…they’re on the left…I’ll wait.
Beer #2 is on the table. This could get good.
1:15 until estimated departure. As long as I don’t end up like one of the people on Airline who miss their flight because they’re in the bar, I’m fine.
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 1-0 Canes!
Wait…it’s being reviewed.
On the topic of sports…imagine this:
My cohort’s cousin’s son, as I’ve mentioned, plays for the Nationals. Well, yesterday, Father’s Day, he hit a walk-off Homerun to beat the Yankees. Mom, Dad, and family were in the stands. I had told Cohort that he should call his cousin and I’d happily drive to DC. Imagine that. Not only is your kid a major leaguer at age 21, a leading candidate for Rookie of the Year, but he homers to beat the Yankees on Father’s Day. Does it get better? I emailed his Dad this morning to offer some sort of congrats. Any father out there would get chills just thinking about it. I’m quite enjoying “knowing” a major leaguer. It’s fun to follow him and to know that he’s a contributor to my fantasy team.
Shit…still reviewing the goal/no goal. What the fuck? Oh…no goal. Just a power play. That sucks.
So, back to our regularly scheduled nonsense. I’m happy to beheading home. As I mentioned, I’m tired. I haven’t eaten a useful meal in days and haven’t had a good night’s sleep since…well…since a while ago. It will be more than nice to be home for the next 6 nights. Then, 4 away and then…maybe then…I’ll be home for a while. But, I doubt it. I get the sick feeling that on the evening of July 4, I’ll be back in the City of Brotherly Love. And I’ll be pissed.
But…something or someone could intervene.
I’m not saying what, but if you pray to anything, say a little good luck prayer for your NoGoodDaddy. I could use a break. I have a few things that could break for me in the next week to 10 days. I just need one of the “right 3″ to break for me. Shit…do I need one of them to pan out.
Boy…I need to pee something fierce. This poses at least 2 problems…no make that 3. I have not settled my tab. I have a lot of shit with me. I don’t know where a bathroom is.
Time to go pay up and find one.
Sing it, Mike: “Another summer day has come and gone away in Paris and Rome. But I want to go home. Maybe surrounded by a million people I …still feel so alone. I just want to go home Babe, I miss you…you know”
“I’m fine baby, how are you?”
“You deserve that that”
“Another Aeroplane…another sunny place”
“I got to go home”
“Let me go home”
“Cause I’m just to far from just where you are”
“And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life.”
Yup…having peed, I’m listing to a little Buble. And…shit do I ever want to go home. I know Pimp (linkless again) knows how I feel. Again, JewelrySlut is 100% supportive of all this. She “gets” why I’m doing it. She stands behind me. But, I doubt she likes it. I know I don’t. No amount of money could put me on the road full time. I don’t know how people do it. It takes a certain type. I’m not that type. I miss them too much.
2-0! I must have missed a goal while peeing! Maybe I’ll just head to Moore Square if I ever get home and join the festivities by the Acorn. I know what I’m doing whenever it is that they celebrate. Shit, Raleigh…do it down Blount. Not at the RBC Center. Just don’t go too far down Blount…or somebody’s going to be drinking Ripple out of the Cup.
Speaking of awards and such. We all know where JewelrySlut used to work, don’t we. Remember, LittleBlueBox Company. Well, of the 4 major sports trophies, I think the Stanley Cup is the only one she hasn’t had her grubby mitts on. And that, in its’ own right is amusing if you think of it). Cool, eh?
Back on track, asshole…eh…I said enough last night.
I love you, babe. I’ll be home soon (even though I know I need to be home to post this, you get the point.) This will be over soon. I’ll be home again and we can maybe spend a little time together. Shit…I just want to sit on the couch and share a bottle of wine or 4 with you. I’m not asking for much. One of the breaks I made mention to above and I’m home for good. Jesus, that would be nice. Enough with hotels and chain restaurants. I want to go home and stay there for a while. I don’t want to see an airplane again after June ends until I fly to St Thomas in August. I’ll opt for Grounded, Well-Sexed, and Drunk until then. Sound good, hon?
Well, I should wrap things up. This has been quite a ramble, riddled with typos to annoy Andria I’m sure (again…the link thing).
Sorry if it took too long. Blame Philadelphia for sucking anus.