whiski_sour: (what the shit is this?)
I've downgraded to the plus account, which meant narrowing my icons down from 122 to 15. It was surprisingly easy once I got down to it, but I'm sure there are icons I'm going to miss and wish I kept. I tried to pick the ones that I used the most.

The icon I'm using for this entry, though, I kept for nostalgia reasons. It's the oldest icon in my collection, easily 10 years old (May 15 will be my 12th anniversary here). Remember when we had a limited number of icons and we used to do sets? I remember two sets I did. One was a Lost set done with the lyrics to "Only Tongue Can Tell" by the TrashCan Sinatras. The other was called handwriting because I wrote the captions on my hand. When sets went the way of the dodo, I kept this one because I liked it so well.

Only 15 icons. End of an era, I suppose.
whiski_sour: (porpoise is laughing)
Woke up at 4 am with a nose bleed. Didn't get back to sleep until after 6:30. Woke up at 7:40 when Dad let a very upset Maudie Moo in my room.

Just as I began to recover from my crappy night's sleep, I found out that the CornBelters traded my favorite player, Mike Mobbs.

Just as I began to recover from THAT (realizing the home park for the team he plays for now is quite literally just down the road from where I spent a great many Saturday nights during my indy wrestling days), I found out that Davy Jones passed away.

I am crushed.

I don't have to tell you guys how much I love the Monkees. I always knew this day would come (how lucky are we that we had the whole band alive for 45 years?), but I didn't think it would be today. I've been listening to my Monkees playlist and I watched a couple of my favorite episodes. I cannot massage this hurt.

Over dramatic, I know, but this band means the world to me.

My Leap Day has so much sad.
whiski_sour: (listen to the music)
This last week at work is turning out to be more of a hell week than I thought. Between Hurricane Irene, a plant mess up, and getting two more plants dumped on us, Monday and Tuesday felt more like four days instead of two. I'm indeed disappointed that tomorrow isn't Friday.

Speaking of the hurricane, you'd think that it's approach would make the east coast plant pause and say, hey, let's hold off a day on deliveries to see what happens. Nope. They sent our driver, who was running late due to road closures in NJ/NY anyway, then gets to Vermont and finds out that he can't get to his first two stops because THE ROADS AND BRIDGES ARE WASHED OUT. No kidding.

That was Monday. Today we get a call from the plant because those customers want their stuff and they just have to have their stuff this week and are pissed that we didn't get it to them sooner. Hello? YOU COULDN'T GET TO YOUR DAMN PLACE OF BUSINESS DUE TO FLOODING. HOW DO YOU EXPECT US TO GET THERE? So Ron will be out until Saturday getting these customers their stuff.

We'll just never mind the fact that a few of the other places he delivered didn't have power and one of the towns had been "washed off the map" according to one guy.

We'll also just never mind that the second Maine truck (which is a stupid idea anyway) will actually be getting to stops ahead of the first truck due to the hurricane putting him so far behind.

Yeah.

I also spent five days trying to get in contact with someone about their delivery (first to tell them when it was scheduled, then to tell them it was late, even though they didn't know it was late because I never got a hold of him) and by the time I finally got in touch with a human being that I didn't have to leave a message they wouldn't return, they told me that they'd canceled that order.

So, yeah, it's been all kinds of clusterfuck that make me happy this is my last week and I wish it would go quicker.

However, since today was better, Chad took me, Albert, and Crystal out to lunch since it's my last week and we won't have time to go on Friday. Word is also starting to make its way 'round that I'm leaving. The plant manager, John, told me he wasn't accepting my resignation. Chad, Albert, and Crystal have all said the same thing.

I hate this sort of thing. This is why I waited as long as I could before I let anyone find out I was leaving. I like the people I work with. I'm going to miss seeing them every day. I'm going to miss being part of the team.

So far the only driver I'm sure of that knows I'm leaving is the new driver, Joe. I haven't told any of the others, but I'm sure word may start getting around. If I see Gary or George or Mike tomorrow, I'll tell them. Everybody will know within five minutes of telling them. They're just like old women after church. Gossip, gossip, gossip.

I've got a lot of mixed emotions right now. I knew I would. But in the long run, I feel this will be for the best.

Gonna miss them, though.
whiski_sour: (this just in)
I put in my notice at work. My last day is September 2nd.

Discussions about the future to come. Get a preview on the blog.
whiski_sour: (gibbs smile)
Uncle Lucky arranged for the family to get together at a corner bar to have a bit of a memorial drink for Papa. He was the youngest of ten kids, but he was considered the head of our clan and busted his ass to keep us all connected. The rest of the family felt they should do SOMETHING to honor him and his life.

It was fitting and the kind of thing Papa would have liked. Nothing sad. Just the family getting together at a bar, eating and drinking and laughing and telling stories. Aunt Ruby kept getting choked up, but it was understandable. Papa lived with her for six years after their parents died (their mom died when Papa was 8 and their dad died when Papa was 12 or 13). She contributed to his raising. And Aunt Jo got unexpectedly choked up talking about Grandma (her sister). But other than that, things were pretty dry-eyed.

Grandma and Papa were there in spirit and in body, so to speak. Dad has both of their ashes in the Jeep. He said if Aunt Ruby hadn't have been there, he'd have put Papa's ashes in his wheel chair with his ball cap on top and sat it at one of the tables.

Yeah, he's having entirely too much fun with the remains of his parents. He actually admitted to it. He said he might not spread them after all because he is enjoying them so much.

My DNA is a funky, funky thing.

It was nice chatting with some family members. Aunt Ruby and I talked baseball and the Cubs. Not many people can say they have awesome baseball talks with their 83 year old great-aunt, but considering Uncle Harry was so important and instrumental to little league in the area, it's not far-fetched for me.

Speaking of being instrumental, members of the Decatur Computer Club, which Papa helped start and was president of for many years, stopped by and gave the family a nice card. He hadn't really been much of a participant for the last few years of his life, so to have them do that was really nice.

It was just a nice afternoon all around. I'm glad they did it and I'm glad I went.
whiski_sour: (ache)
Papa passed away early this morning. It wasn't entirely unexpected as he'd been in hospital for a few weeks. After they got his heart troubles straightened out, they found out his kidneys were failing. There was nothing they could do, so the goal was to get him strong enough to go home with my Aunt Jo.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. He was getting the therapy he needed, but between a couple of setbacks and his own unwillingness (he turned into a right hateful ass the last couple of weeks) he made no progress. Just last night they moved him back to the 4th floor in preparation to take him to hospice. I guess he decided he was done and wasn't going to go. By all accounts, he died in his sleep (according to Dad, he looked like he was sleeping, too: eyes closed, mouth wide open...the only difference was there was no sound; he could snore so hard the windows rattled).

Despite his jackass behavior right at the end, he was a wonderful grandfather. He was just one of the kids when he'd play. Loving and supportive. I'm going to miss him bunches. Words cannot express how lucky I was to have him in my life and how grateful I am to be able to call him my papa.

Love you.

Rest in peace (if grandma lets you).
whiski_sour: (ache)
Our kitty McGee passed away this morning. She's been sick for a few weeks, so it wasn't unexpected.

She was a sweet kitty who came to live with us because she didn't want to live with the neighbors and refused to take no for an answer. She demanded her breakfast, read the newspaper, watched CNN and old detective movies (she really did; she'd bitch if you turned off the TV), and liked to have her belly rubbed, or as we'd say, rub the Buddha.

She's going to be missed.



Rest in peace, Maggie "Scrapper" McGee. Love you.
whiski_sour: (Oh noes!)
My Great Aunt Ruth died this week. Sad, but in a way expected because she's been battling heart trouble and throat cancer the past couple of years. I'm going to miss her. She was a sweet lady.

However, her death ended up being most fitting for my family.

You see, she keeled over in a bar.

She didn't die right then. They called the ambulance, took her to the hospital, ended up putting her on life support, and she died later.

But yeah, she keeled over in a bar.

No word on whether or not she'd had a drink yet (I hope she did), but Dad says if it was in her hand, she wouldn't have dropped it when she fell over.

Goodbye, Aunt Ruthie. You were one hell of a lady.

Suffice it to say, Dad and I are shocked that this is actually the first family member to keel over in a bar. We thought it should be common place by now.
whiski_sour: (death note)
The scratch-off streak has ended at five. It was a good run, but it couldn't last forever.

It's a shame. I was having a good time.
whiski_sour: (wtf bleu)
I'm rather sad face about the passing of Stephen J. Cannell. He's responsible for The A-Team. Without him, my life would have had no Murdock and that's a life I don't want to contemplate.

RIP Mr. Cannell. Thanks for the stories.
whiski_sour: (ache)
As I mentioned before, Zasu was supposed to come to live with us because her owner was moving. Well, we never got her. She passed away.

I'm gonna miss that crazy dog. She was a lot of fun. She might have been blind and she might have been crippled and she might have been older than she looked, but she sure didn't act like it.

And I imagine my cat Pete was waiting for her on the other side.



RIP Polish Coyote.
whiski_sour: (Fiona TCB)
One of my favorite Blanche Devereaux lines. Shame about Rue McClanahan. I adored her. Like I told Missy, at least she, Bea, and Estelle will live on in reruns. RIP.

I applied for a job at the bank down the street today. I've been half-ass looking for a job for a couple of months. I need some steady income, just a part-time gig to pay the bills. The money from writing is just too little and too sporadic.

It looked simple enough on the surface. I could submit my resume online. So I did. And then it told me I had to schedule an onsite test. A test that will take two hours.

Uh huh.

Look, I understand the background check and the drug test. But a two hour video test? Is this going to be like the Family Video SAT? It just seems so unnecessary for a part-time, probably minimum wage job. I know they want competent, non-thieving people, but I thought that's what interviews were for.

I prefer to be actually getting paid before I'm made to jump through hoops. I'm just saying.
whiski_sour: (listen to the music)
My rat, Frankie Frankenstein, died this morning. Sad, but not unexpected. Old age hit him hard and suddenly. One day he was this big ol' fat thing, scampering around his cage with his treats in his mouth (I never understood why he felt the need to take anything we gave him on a walk before he hate it, but it was a lot of fun to watch him deal with a taco shell), and the next, he was a fragile, skinny little thing.

It kind of took me by surprise because of all my rats (Frankie was my 5th), Frankie was probably the healthiest. I don't think he so much as had a cold. The first time I remembered him not ever feeling well was just before he started going downhill. And he went downhill fast. But still managed to last four days longer than any of us thought he would. Tenacious little shit to the end.

I think I'm going to be done with rats for awhile. It seems like after Frodis (I admit it, he was my fave), I got increasingly more detattched from them. The last three I had, I really didn't handle them much and really didn't interact with them as much as I did the first two. So, I think that maybe I'm going to refrain from getting another one for a good long while.

I'm going to miss getting rat kisses, though.
whiski_sour: (ache)
RIP, Patrick Swayze.

I loved him in Too Wong Foo. I saw that movie in the theater. It shouldn't have worked, but, damn, did he nail it.

I loved him in Road House, too. He made that work, too.

Damn shame. I liked him.
whiski_sour: (Que?)
Me: They're dropping like flies today.
Carrie: Who?
Me: First Ted Kennedy, now Dominick Dunne.
Dad: And one at Weldon Springs.
Me: One at Weldon Springs?
Dad: Suicide by drowning.
Me: At Weldon Springs? I bet the algae got him.
Dad: That's been taken into consideration. It's in the report.
whiski_sour: (listen to the music)
Found out today that my great-grandma passed away yesterday. She just turned 90 at the end of June, was living in a nursing home, and had been in poor health for the past couple of years.

Even though I was expecting it, I'm still kind of shocked.

You have to understand, I love my Grandma Randi, but she had a wicked streak a mile wide. No matter how far downhill she got, you just didn't think she'd kick the bucket because Death was afraid of her mad walker skills.

He had to have snuck up on her while she was sleeping. I can't imagine him taking her when she was in the position to fight.

Unless she was ready to go. Then I imagine she went to Death's house herself to let him know.

I'm not too sad about it, though. I know she's with my Papa George and I know Heaven is in an uproar with her showing up and that just makes me smile.
whiski_sour: (listen to the music)
RIP Michael Jackson.

I have such mixed feelings about his death.

On the one hand, I mourn the loss of the brilliant pop legend that provided the soundtrack for damn near half of my life.

On the other hand, the guy had such a screwed up life and such a screwed up head and did such screwed up things that I hope he's finally found some peace.

Either way, it's another piece of my childhood gone.

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Cheshyre

February 2014

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