Come August, my lease is up at the current dump I call home. These damned leasing agents vultures have been walking people through this place like it is a whore house often with very little notice to me- this particular gem showed up at 5pm, which is when they shut down their soul harvester for the day. Anyway, I finally got somewhat pissed. Mainly because Lynn, Kristin and Adam Bike are crashing at my place after scuba diving down in Gilboa Ohio today.
So here’s my nice little FU:
Charisse,
10 AM isn’t really all that great for me (731 Packard). I have a lot of people from out town staying over. Additionally, I thought you had to give me at least 24 hours notice so this 5pm blow-and-go nonsense is extra shady. That and I’m generally annoyed that there seems to be so much foot traffic through this place. After 1pm will be fine - but according to an email from 3:30pm today, there is another group coming then too - maybe you can carpool.
Dean
Pricks will probably still show up though.
My favorite quote: “I just don’t feel I deserve health insurance”
So, in light of my recent absense from the illustrious deanmassey.net, I figured I should update the universe on what exactly I’ve been doing for the last ohh, 3 months or so. Since these are all substantial life altering events, a bulleted list should suffice.
That largely covers it I guess. I’m sure I will expound up on these points at some point but since readership undoubtedly dwindled to near zero during my absence - I’m not in a huge hurry or anything.
Either way though, I’m back bitches. Just renewed the domain for another 5 years.
I mean to write this about two weeks ago but you know . . .
So anyway, my flight back to Houghton from Rochester MN was . . . well typical? Under the advice of my parents I hopped on the internet to check in for my flight a few hours ahead of time and in between “System errors†and “Please Call for Details†my flight from Minneapolis to Houghton was first canceled, then rerouted to Detroit. Well, the Detroit airport is no place to spend Thanksgiving so I heeded their advice and gave them a call. Which something like this:
NWA: Thank you for calling . . . blah blah blah
Me: So I see you have me going to Detroit instead of Houghton. Well I guess I would like to talk about that.
NWA: Let’s see . . . type type type . . . hmmmm . . . type type type
Me: No seriously, have you looked at a map? Houghton is nowhere near Detroit. Detroit is actually further from Houghton than I currently am.
NWA: Please hold . . .
Me: (under breath) my fingers around your neck?
Eventually some random number generator cranked out the right flight number and all was well, on the internet anyway. So my folks drop me off at the Rochester airport, nay Rochester International Airport, and I begin the waiting. The flight was more or less on time which was good, and they even upgraded me to first class for the 25 minute flight (first time I’ve ever flown first class).
The funny thing about the Rochester Airport though is the cliental. Almost everyone hopping on that beer can with wings was in Rochester for the Mayo Clinic. This has some interesting implications as nearly half the crowd was in a wheelchair or has being lugged on to the plane by someone only slightly more mobile. Honestly, if that plane would have crashed, only me and the flight crew would have walked away unless of course we were clipped by the shards of hips, oxygen bottles, wheelchairs and other bionic parts from the balance of the passengers.
The contents of that plane really makes me wonder: how many old or infirm people have I accidentally killed in Rochester? Work with me on this one: so I walk the halls of the Mayo Clinic underground complex which essentially constitutes most of downtown Rochester and I had a cold so I coughed a bit. A ancient man passing gives me a murderous look knowing that my toxic wasteland of a body is propped up by the immune system of a hero and likely lives in mortal fear that if he catches what I have, he’ll surely be dead by sunset. Which is like 4pm.
What is the point of this post? I want to die in a glorious explosion where they have to sponge me off the wall instead of slowly rusting to pieces in a sanitary smelling room.
As the last post indicated, I flew home for Thanksgiving this year. Unbeknownst to me though my parents had drastically trimmed down their fleet of available vehicles leaving only one for each of them - which is a very reasonable thing to do. There was a spare work truck but that monster gets such horrid mileage I’m afraid Al Gore may descend from the heavens and kick in my windshield.
There was only one thing to do: ride a motorcycle instead. I’ve been looking at buying my neighbors bike for a while so this was the perfect opportunity to check it out. At some point or another you may have heard my say I know how to ride a motorcycle. That was a lie. Sure I have ridden before, but it was not pretty. So on Friday I drove the land yacht to the DMV and passed the motorcycle written test. With things all on the legal up and up, I drove back home, walked across the street and hopped on a crotch rocket. Getting proficient didn’t take long and in no time I was cruising in traffic.
Fast forward a few days and I’m totally in love. I’ve been using the bike as pretty my sole mode of transportation for my various trips into Rochester and uptown to Kasson. Yesterday was the last day though as when I took my gloves off my hands were getting pretty blue from the cold seeping through.
Here’s a picture of the bike. It is a 2001 Honda CBR 600 F4i and with any luck it will be mine fairly soon (now that winter is here and all).
Ahh heading home, as in back home long ago, for the first time in 10 months. I decided to fly since the price was right. $245 gets me 5 miles from where I am to within 15 miles of where I want to be. Since gas is so damn expensive, I figure I would come out on top by flying. Math is simple: $180 in gas + one speeding ticket > $245. Fly it is. Anyway, I’ll be in the Kasson area until next Thursday so give me a ring.
*sigh* It will be another two weeks until I can subject myself to more underwater brutalization. Unfortunately with Tech going out of session for a little while for Thanksgiving I’ll have to resort to falling down the stairs with chicken wire and cinder blocks to simulate the weekly beating. Last night’s underwater hockey was the usual blood bath - chopped up hand, several boots to the face/torso and someone’s vain attempt to gouge my eye out with their elbow. I thought for sure I would have a worse black eye than I do today, in fact it is actually not too bad at all - just sort of a bruise that looks suspiciously like the outline of a goggles. Not to be too graphic but my contact was actually ripped off my eye and somehow ended up in my goggles where I was easily able to recover it, toss it back in and get underway. Talk about a one in a million chance there.
I made some of Mom’s Chicken Soup tonight with Cindy and while the chicken was boiling, she showed me this website that pretty much combination of things I was looking for:
I give you: freerice.com
[23:44:30] Andy: i should move to saudi arabia
[23:44:47] ShiftyEyesMI: i want to move to Mars
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"Well, I think we have enough rope, beer and chainsaws to get the job done"
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