This week hasn't been much of a week. The Colts loss has
really thrown me. Thursday was the tipping point. I work a highly
detailed job that only pays ten bucks an hour. I can't believe I
graduated from college. I have to drive for 50 minutes every morning to get to that job. I have to drive right through the middle of downtown Minneapolis to get there because, in case you hadn't heard, the bridge is out. That near hour of driving only covers 7 miles. Its sucks and this week has just been worse. I was off all week, which meant my projects were off. I was mistake free for over a month and then i made three huge mistakes in two days. It is catastrophic for me.
It rained all day today, and I was late heading home from work because I kept screwing up. Being late leaving work put me right in the middle of the worst traffic Minneapolis can offer. So there I was, stuck in the middle of 60 story buildings, noise, and cars. It was too dark for me to put my sunglasses on, thanks to the rain. For those that don't know the Paine, that is like asking me to cut off arm. I was down, feeling low, and had nowhere to go. Normally I chuckle on my way home. In downtown Minneapolis there is a sex shop named "Lickety Split", and I have to sit in traffic next to it for about 5 minutes. They have a marquee that scrolls messages. Evidently they have a 100 game arcade room, video rental, bondage toys, locally produced erotic clothing, a gay section, a lesbian section, and all sorts of things. In the window is a variety of clothing, like corsets, nipple exposing bras, crotchless panties, testicle clamps, cock cages, one of the Jenna Jameson sex dolls in a really hideous party dress, the whole nine yards. I sat next to it, feeling like crap, and I saw the cashier next to the door. She looked happy. Her job was better than mine. She liked herself more than I like me.
It stopped raining and I rolled down my window. How could we let Chicago just walk right up the middle like that? A guy walked out of the sex shop with an inflatable doll sticking our of a black bag and big smile on his face. The corner of my mouth turned up. In the far south, visible at the end of the crevasse of skyscrapers, the sun cracked through clouds. The aviators slid smoothly back into place. How are we going to shore up the middle with Ed Johnson in the pokey? I heard the familiar, metallic gasp of Angus Young's SG as "Who Made Who" started up. The radio cranked, the world through amber lenses, the light turned green and I went back in time. Not far, just to 2005, when Hot Tub and I first got season tickets to the Colts. For just a moment, I went back home. When I came back to the future, it was over. I may still be in a crappy mood, and I may hate a job because it was the one I could get, and I may hate the government and it may be FUCK the PO-lice in the commonwealth of Bruce Painia, but at least I am over the Colts losing to Chicago. Things are back to normal.
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The Colts didn't win, Houston lost...kinda.
Yeah, I love Olympic sports. I am not ashamed of it. I don't care much for some of the sports that have arbitrary scoring (those scored by the arbitrary opinion of judges and not by the outcome of a contest or event) like gymnastics or diving, but I respect the skills. The other Olympic sports like shooting, judo, boxing, swimming, track, cycling, volleyball, wrestling and whatnot. I was stuck to the TV to watch the opening games (kinda by default since my girlfriend is an Olympic nut and a former college athlete in an Olympic sport) and there was a lot to see. I woke up the next morning to find an email ready and waiting from the long and lost Jack Cobra. It appeared as follows with my comments in italics. 
