everything: a little off this a.m.



couldn't get comfortable in bed or fall asleep from 12:39 a.m. forward after missing the top of a thrilling 9th inning though the Sox eventually



lost on a shitty fucking call of ball when it was a strike



(and, oh yeah, to George Steinbrenner: go fuck yourself, old man. I waited on you once in New York so can personally



verify what a cocksucker you are. I hope you fall down and hit your fucking head on the sidewalk, bitch.)



couldn't get obscure, circular, useless, bizzare consideration of this stupid blog off my mind



was too warm in the sheets and residually angry at my female counterpart for foolish (I admit) reasons



and, oh yeah, heartburn was in heavy effect



finally fell asleep for some time, then my female counterpart arose first, which is rare, so I had to piss like the racehorse and



that was a piss deferred for some short, unbearable time



then the black German Shepherd wouldn't eat his breakfast

and wouldn't take his morning shit

all he wanted to do was gently sniff one of 13 freshly planted arborvitaes

which was fine

except it highlighted, for me, the increasing unruliness of the grass

but it's been rain rain rain

except this morning is beautiful

sunny, ripe

I suppose I should be happy the dog at least peed



then I took him for his walk

and, wouldn't you know, suddenly now I was all bound up with having to crap

but what can you do?



when we got back from the walk,

we had a round of cat chasing

the smallest one, Harley, taunting him from under the bed

not really taunting, just there, and he can't tolerate it,

not when in his crate, which is where I had to put him,

the better to go shit and shower

because at only a year he's still a baby

and would get into mischief



well, finally I was ready to go to work

but had to take that boy, I mean that dog

back out yardward for one last dance,

but again: no shitting, just the gentle sniffing of the

freshly planted arborvitae (one of thirteen)



and I had the thought of calling in sick to work

but no, no



finally I got out of the house and the truck was nearly out of gas

so I had to stop on the way

and I banged the door of the truck on the fucking thick iron bar, the painted one,

so you don't accidentally back into the pump,

and I'm standing there fucking pumping gas on fucking credit,

'cause it ain't pay day,

and worse, at fucking Mobil,

and I'm looking at the store window with the cigarette logos

thinking, at least I'm not doing that any more,

at least I've got that going for me



anyway, I realize this is all very, very small and petty bullshit

compared to the plights of most other people in the world

and worse, it's very boring,



but suffice to say, when I rounded the corner to this building where I work I was thinking,

boy, I wonder if anything is going to happen NOW



but all I'm doing is typing this crap out now and, frankly,



I'll take it.



but, no, shit is still off, shit still keeps happening



god damn



I thought I was over being neurotic like this,

but, evidently, no



not totally



and while I'm at it

there is nothing more annoying than a kid

who's a hunt-and-peck typist

who spends all day on the phone

and speaks with this forced, phony

"Bostonian" accent



worse, the dude is actually from around here

and he's affecting this fucking accent



and it just sounds like crap