Grandma likes to make us worry

This has been a crappy week so far and it's only Tuesday. I got absolutely no sleep on Sunday night, first the bars (which I could hear over the sound of my window fan on high) and then I was so pissed off that my brain wouldn't shut off. Last time I looked at the clock it said 3:54 with the alarm scheduled to go off at 4:17.

Work was work, except that an engineer stopped by my desk to share what he heard from a manager who lives near him with whom he talked over the weekend. What he heard was supposedly the criteria to be used to figure out who is part of the 15% who are going to be laid off. Oy vey...I'm positive, that come August 1st, I shall be jobless and job hunting in southeastern Michigan (not a pleasant prospect considering our unofficial unemployment rate). I felt like throwing up.

I left on time to get to my usual Monday appointment and had a crappy time dealing with morons incapable of driving the bloody speed limit. I got boxed out of making my turn onto the second highway and ended up taking the slow boat to China which had me swearing. I finally get to my appointment (not late) and notice that Maureen's car is not in the parking lot, nor the people who have the appointment before me. I don't really think anything of it, because it's happened before and she had just run to the library. When my appointment time finally came around and it was obvious nothing was happening, I called her cell phone and got her message saying she was called out of town on a family medical emergency. *sigh*

I wasn't able to make my usual trip to Trader Joe's (there isn't one near me) because I had plans to pick the YS up at the car dealership and then go for sushi (which somehow became Red Robin) and it was too hot to leave groceries in the car for any number of hours. This means I'm now foodless, for the most part.

I get to the car dealership and there's no sign of the YS even though she was supposed to be there. I go in and find my friend Irean who I haven't seen in a while (she used to live in my building, but had to move out when her hours got cut at the dealership). She hadn't seen my sister, but I wasn't stressed because we had some catching up to do. When a customer stopped by I called the YS and she said, "How did you know to call me? I was just texting you." Turns out that she couldn't get her truck started (it hadn't moved since January, so not really a shock), and therefore was still at home.

For those playing at home, I've now driven a good 30-40 miles for no reason at all, and I was a good 12-18 miles from home. The YS was worried about Grandma because she had been having trouble breathing and the plan was to get her a dr.'s appointment or take her to the E.R. I was more than ready to just go home with a stop at the beer store. I wasn't needed, so that's what I did. Occasionally I regret living 20 miles from everybody else, but if I'm needed I'll be there. There were at least four people hovering over Grandma yesterday, she didn't need me there.

A few hours later I got a call telling me that Grandma has a blood clot in her lung (apparently came from her leg, made its way through her heart and into her lung - LUCKILY) and they were going to transfer her to the main hospital. I called the main hospital today and they couldn't find her. Turns out there were no beds at the hospital, so she was still in the E.R. They finally got her admitted to the hospital at some point this evening.

Once again, please keep my Grandma (cute and elegant) in your prayers, thoughts, etc. I'm really not ready for her to leave.

Thanks.

Straight Edge (Minor Threat)

Jeff Kay over at The West Virginia Surf Report reported out on the Top Ten Fears and I decided to copy him. I wouldn't even have to credit him since he never reads my drivel, but I know I have at least one reader in common, so I'm giving due credit (I would have anyway).

Fear of spiders – I am not afraid of spiders. I'm not especially fond of them when they're hanging over my head by a slender silk thread, but then again I live in Michigan and we're not exactly known for our huge, killer spiders. I can kill my own spiders, although I have an agreement with any spiders in my house. As long as they stay up high, I allow them to live.

Fear of public speaking – Without a freaking doubt!!! Haven't I ever told you about me doing the first reading at my friend's wedding? She was my best friend growing up, but we hadn't hung together in quite some time when it was time for her wedding, so instead of being asked to be a bridesmaid (as hideous as that is I would have rather spent $200 on a velour dress I was never going to wear again), I was asked to do a reading. The only reason I truly wish to get married is to return the "favor." The reading she chose was from the Song of Solomon (or some such thing). Thirteen years later (or so), I can still recite part of it…"Hark! My lover! Here he comes!" Yeah and it got worse from there. There was talk about peeping Toms ("peering through the lattice"), stags aleaping, breasts heaving, etc. Dear heavens. What the bloody hell was she thinking? "Can't I do 1st Paul to the Corinthians, please?" Nope, that was reserved her sister.

I practiced that sucker for a month. I had to get through it without laughing, right? Her family was pretty conservative and reserved, so they would not have appreciated me giggling in the middle of her wedding Mass. There were essentially two paragraphs, the first much longer than the second and much more giggle-inducing. As such, I practiced the first paragraph until I damn near had it memorized. The problem was that since the second paragraph was pretty straightforward I hadn't practiced it as much. I show up the day of the wedding and I'm immediately confronted by the bride, "Why weren't you here for the rehearsal dinner?" "I wasn't invited." Yeah, we're such good friends, she forgot to invite me to the rehearsal dinner. I had typed up the reading in big print and double or triple-spaced to make it easier to read. When it came time for my reading, I made my way up the aisle to the pulpit where I proceeded to shake like a leaf with the paper rattling into the microphone. I got through the first paragraph and then made my almost fatal mistake – I paused to take a breath and almost couldn't get started again for fear of sobbing hysterically. I got my bearings by looking at the bride's mother who had a very caring look on her face and I was able to speed my through the second paragraph and ended with "The Word of God." "Thanks be to God." Whew!

And even worse than all that? At the reception, this man came up to me (he had been seated in the pew directly across from me and had stared at me the whole time) and someone introduced us (can't remember who needs to be punished for that) and I politely shook his hand. He held it an extraordinarily long period of time and said, "I just loved the way you said 'lover.'" Eeeeewwwwww!!! I babbled, "Yeah, I was surprised you could say that in church. Have you met my mother?" And I bailed. Oh yeah, the guy? Was about my mother's age. YUK!! FREAK!

Fear of flying - Not really, although I have noticed that the older I get and the more often I fly I do get a little bit more anxious. I hate flying, but that's mostly because of the discomfort of being crammed in like sardines and the inconvenience of trying to get somewhere and not have to check your luggage and pray that it makes it to your actual destination these days.

Fear of open spaces – Not really, although I can say that dark nearly empty parking lots late at night cause to me be a little bit more aware.

Fear of closed spaces – I didn't think I was the least bit claustrophobic until I had my first MRI seven years ago. I had my second one today, and my head was not in the machine as promised, but I could feel the initial squeamishness as the "gurney" moved into the machine. I initially just stared at the ceiling, but I realised that 20 minutes per knee was going to be a long time for staring at a ceiling, so I passed the time by running through race tracks. I started with Road America since I'm heading there Wednesday directly after work (with a stay overnight in Chicago with my friends Mary & Rob - same people who are going with me to see The Stooges tomorrow night). I realised that it had been too long since I've been to Mid-Ohio, because I could only get through Turns 1-6. Cleveland, Toronto, Laguna Seca & Road America (multiple time) kept me from thinking about the big tube I was almost all the way in. The last time I had an MRI I could take music with me, but not this time. If I ever have to be IN the machine again, I'm going somewhere I can take music. There's no way in hell I'm doing it unless I have music or (or perhaps and) am heavily drugged.

Fear of heights – Not really, my fear is more a fear of ladders. I was able to step on the clear platform at the CN Tower in Toronto with no problem.

Fear of vomit – Not scared of it, but hate doing it and try not to.

Fear of cancer – No, although I probably should be since every member of my family who has died in the past 25 years has died from cancer (or in the case of my great uncle who didn't die of it, he had it twice).

Fear of thunderstorms – Not at all. I live in Michigan , we get them all the time. I'd be a basketcase. I can sleep through them, no problem. I can't sleep through the deep, throbbing bass from Crave, but I can sleep through loud blasts of thunder.

Fear of death/dead things – No, I know people who absolutely point blank refuse to go up to the casket at a funeral home, but the dead body doesn't bother me. I'd, generally, prefer that the person lying there be up and about and leaving this mortal coil, but I'm not scared of them. I'm also one of those weirdoes that finds it helps to deal with the death.

I probably won't update again until next week as tomorrow is The Stooges at Meadowbrook Music Festival and then Wednesday immediately after work I leave for Road America where I'll be spending four days! Woohoo!!! Tonight I'm doing laundry, packing and making CDs for myself to take, because I won't have time tomorrow.

Have a good week, everybody, and I'll see you next week briefly, before I head to Baltimore on August 17th for my b-day weekend. I haven't seen my friend Railroad for at least 5 years (she'll know because the last time was at her wedding), and we have much catching up to do. I'm really looking forward to the next two weeks.

So What (Live)

I think I’m officially old. I’m taking on everybody and everything which are annoying me. Yesterday I wrote a letter to Champ Car (I sent it to their general counsel since I sat next to him on the plane to Edmonton last year and had his e-mail address) regarding The Budweiser Stage at the Cleveland Grand Prix this past weekend (Here is an Ode to the Budweiser Stage which I'm sure you'll all enjoy immensely).

Ode to the Budweiser Stage at the Cleveland Grand Prix Presented by Lasalle Bank

How do I hate thee, O Budweiser Stage!
Let me count the ways!

One, you play rap-slash-hip-hop music
Two, you play rap-slash-hip-hop music at ear deafening levels
Three, you play rap-slash-hip-hop music at ear deafening levels to the point where I can't hear really loud race cars going past me less than 20 feet away while you're a good 300 feet away. (Not part of the Ode – I suck at guessing/estimating distances.)
Four, you play rap-slash-hip-hop music at ear deafening levels to the point where I can't hear really loud race cars going past me less then 20 feet away which is really bad since I'm here for the race cars.
Five, you hold beauty contests with women in evening dress while dirt and dust flies everywhere and oh, yeah, play more crappy, excessively loud music, and have an emcee making suggestive comments even though there are kids in the audience.
Six, you are the centerpiece to a "car show" where the most interesting car had very shiny chrome on the underside of his hood.
Seven, you are the centerpiece to a "car show" where a bright orange H2 Hummer shows up with 30 minute left in the Champ Car race and proceeds to show off his stereo system which rivaled your sound system.
Eight, you have questionable events which include half-naked women feeding bananas to men without using their hands.
Nine, you play rap-slash-hip-hop music at ear deafening levels to the point where I can't stand it anymore and I decide to go home instead of watching the Star Mazda race which was the last race of the weekend, and would have been a good one.
Ten, you play rap-slash-hip-hop music at ear deafening levels through the Invocation (you would have played through the national anthem, but my nephew ran down to tell you to shut if off, which amazingly you did), and then the post-race interviews and the winner's country's national anthem.

And that, O Budweiser Stage, is how much I hate you and hope you do not return next year.

I asked for and received the name of the person to whom to complain about the remote control boats that run in the lake/pond across the street from my apartment. I've told you about that, right? These fuckers (ha, gotta keep up my NC-17 rating) run every single fucking (NC-17) day starting around 3:00 p.m. and going until dark (close to 10:00 p.m. these days in southeastern Michigan), except weekends when they are there all fucking (NC-17) day. Can you tell these boats annoy me?

I had talked to one of the new tenants Sunday night and she mentioned that she had called the police over the weekend but was told they can do nothing about it because it's private property. Since I work for the company to which the lake/pond belongs, I was able to get a name. I wrote an e-mail to the guy on Monday and he called immediately which I thought was pretty nice of him. No, I didn't use my NC-17 language in the e-mail. It was well-written and polite. I had ended the e-mail with the statement that I was not looking forward to my forced vacation next week as I figured those fuckers (NC-17) were going to be there all day every day. He had good news for me. Oh yeah, it's actually a model boat club, not just random idiots out there, and they have a lease (or if you use the model boat club's spelling of the word – leese) to run there through October, but they're hoping to renew it. I expressed my hope to the guy who called me that it would not be renewed as the building where the lake is located is actually closed and there won't be any support on-site (whatever that means, but heck, I was willing to use it). Oh yeah, the good news. The model boat club has been told that they are not allowed to run there next week at all. And the guy told me that he actually gets to work next week (i.e., not forced to take vacation time like me) and to take his cell phone number and call if they show up. Oh, I will! I was a total tattletale too and told the guy that when the boats die on the lake (as is inevitable, apparently), they send a kid out in a rowboat to retrieve and that I couldn't believe that the company would want that kind of liability.

I'm pulling out all the stops here. Next up, Crave!!! They had their second party this past Sunday, but with my fan on I couldn't hear anything, and I had given most of the neighbors in the building the phone number to the night commander's desk, so if they were bothered they had the information needed.

Well, there you go. My adventures into Old Lady-hood with the requisite bitching about noise and making the appropriate phone calls or writing the appropriate e-mails.

Tigers at Tampa Bay Rays (apparently they've lost the Devil)

The weekend was a bust noise-wise. Not that I'm complaining, trust me. Friday and Saturday were quiet, not because Crave has discovered how to be good neighbors, but because the weather was crappy. Sunday night was good, weather-wise, but I went out dancing, so I have no clue what they did that night. It was way past 2:30 a.m. when I got home. I need to give my neighbors the phone number to the Night Commander's desk of the police department, so when I'm not home (a rarity), they can call and complain.

The decibel reader meter doohickey is no good against the blasted radio control boats across the street. The thingie only reads noise level, not the high-pitched-ness of the bloody boats. Schneider told me he's made signs so that we can picket them. Apparently the signs read "Go home!" and "Leave us in peace." I figure I better find out if we can do that or if we need a permit. We don't need tickets. I moved into these apartments back in 1989, so we're going on 18 years of this crap and it's only getting worse. Back in the beginning, I only remember them on the weekends. This 7-day a week, all freaking day crap is wearing on all of us. Today I sat outside to decibel check them out and they barely reached 79 which I'm sure isn't loud enough to complain, but as I walked in the front door, I flipped them off. Yeah, I know, it was an exceptionally mature thing to do, but I'm telling you, they SUCK!!!

I learned something important this morning (let's hope I remember). After you apply Icy Hot to the various areas of your body that are sore because you're really too damn old to be out dancing for five straight hours and wipe your hands with a tissue, the best thing to do is THROW THE TISSUE OUT!!! For some reason, I left it on my desk and then went to the restroom to wash my hands. When I got back to my desk, my allergies were acting up, so I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose. Yup, you guessed it. I grabbed the tissue with Icy Hot on it. Talk about clearing out your sinuses. I highly recommend NOT doing that.

Sunday mornings as I get ready for church, I listen to Time Warp on 89X with Christina. Last Sunday she announced that she was going to be spinning at my old bar Memorial weekend Sunday. I called DWD & Miss Anne to see if they were up for it. DWD said it depended on family obligations as he had been out of town on business for almost two weeks straight and he's pretty responsible for his mother and his grandpa. Miss Anne took a few days to get a hold of, but when I did, she had a nasty cold, so I didn't expect her to make it. Sure enough, her cold got worse and DWD was busy with family stuff, so I went alone, knowing that Pamela was definitely going to be there. I got there right at 9:00 as I like to dance on a non-crowded dance floor.

What is it about gay men and dance remixes? Christina's DJ partner is gay and bloody hell, he loves ten minute dance remixes. I friggin' hate them!!! If a song is a three minute song, there is no reason on earth it needs time filled with some lame bassline added to it. To me that does not make it more danceable. In fact, I become bored with the beat and keep wishing for the song to end. Now, mind you, I'm not adverse to dancing to long songs, one of my favorites is This Corrosion by The Sisters of Mercy and it's almost 12 minutes long, but it's not the same beat for five minutes!

Now, if you're a DJ and you're being paid to do an 80s night, it might be nice to have updated your collection. I got there right at 9:00 in order to ask for Atmosphere by Joy Division which the old DJ (a good friend) simply refused to play. He said it was too slow and nobody would dance to it. My argument was always, nobody is going to dance at this hour but me anyway!!! Why not play what I want? But he never did. I figured I'd try this DJ, for all the good it did me. So, I ask and he said, "I only have that on vinyl." *sigh* I sit for a few seconds and then ask for Madame Butterfly by Malcolm McLaren. "I only have that on vinyl." ARGH!!!

He was playing some bloody DePeche Mode remix (mind you, I love DePeche Mode, it's the remix issue), but I went out there and started to dance. The next song was a remix and I'm bored dancing to it, but I'm there to dance. I came up with songs that I thought he might have (Echo & the Bunnymen, Higher Hell or The Cutter, Bauhaus, Love & Rockets, Go! by Tones on Tail, and No Pain, No Slogan). While I'm writing them down, a guy walks up and says "Hey! For old times sake, can you play Swamp Thing?" I nodded and said, "Yes, that'll work." in agreement. Guess what the answer was. Yup, only on vinyl.

Within a few songs, he plays No Pain, No Slogan, so I can't complain too much, right? Christina shows up by 10:00 (not that I knew what she looked like before that night) and starts her set with Isolation by Joy Division, followed by Dominion/Mother Russia by The Sisters of Mercy and then a few more songs. I was dancing my little heart out! Then she blew it with a New Order song. I will dance to crap I hate to save my spot on the dance floor, because, in case you couldn't figure it out, it's all about dancing. I figured out though that I could leave the stage and still get my spot back, so I went over to talk to her. That morning she had talked about the Ian Curtis (lead singer/lyricist of Joy Division) movie that premiered at Cannes last week and I wanted to talk to her about it. I told her about the book I had just finished and she was intrigued enough about it to write the title down.

A bunch of old friends showed up and it was a good night. I literally danced from 9:05 to 2:00 a.m. (that included two nasty New Order songs - don't ask me, I have no clue) and a whole lot of great stuff. I've always bitched that it seems that Christina plays the same stuff every Sunday morning which is ridiculous when you realise she's working with the years (1977 to 1990-something), but she did such a great job on Sunday night that I might have to cut her some slack. At the end of the night, she thanked me for the tip on the book and I thanked her for the great dancing.

I just hope my muscles give up their bitching soon, because I haven't slept well the last two nights I'm in such pain. One of these days I will figure out that I'm too old to dance like I used to, but not yet. I might be moaning and groaning all day long, but it was totally worth it.

Angels at Tigers

The past few days have been interesting. As you could imagine, I was just bloody tired from the lack of sleep over the weekend. I called the City on Monday and got a lot of sympathy. I also got the name of the Deputy Director of Recreation for whom I left a message. He called me back at 7:09 p.m. Not hours I want, thank you very much. Anyway, he informed me that Crave had NOT submitted for a special permit to violate the noise ordinance law, but even if they had, the decibel level allowed is 80 (normal is 62-75) which supposedly they hadn't violated during their Cinco de Mayo party which I find really hard to believe. At any rate, working with a bunch of engineers has paid off in that one of them had a decibel level meter reader doohickey and he's brought it in for me. I can't waste to test it out this weekend. I might have to check it against those damned boats, too.

When I got home from the gym on Monday Anna was out cutting the grass and I stopped her and asked if they had been bothered by the noise and she was beside herself by how loud it was as well. While talking to Anna, Jen came home and she also had been bothered by the noise and couldn't believe where it was coming from after I told her. I gave both of them the Deputy Director's phone number.

When I talked to the Deputy Director he gave me the phone number for the Night Commander of the police and said to call the NC the next time it happens and make a fuss and say that if it's not taken care of that I will be calling the Mayor's Office. He said the Mayor will definitely take care of it.

I also found out Monday at the gym from Drew (the man who has created my new workout schedule which is so not fun, but I think works) that Crave had put the speakers on the friggin' roof!! No wonder it was travelling so far. The Deputy Director found that to be interesting information. I talked to Pamela today (and told her that she's never allowed to go to Crave again and give them money) and she said that not only that but they put the DJ table and something else up on the roof and that the fire chief probably wouldn't like that, so I might have additional information. I'm telling you, I'm going after them full bore. There is just no reason to be that inconsiderate. Bastards. I'll keep you posted!!!

I hate Crave!!!

I tried to go to bed an hour ago, but Crave is having some sort of loud ass party. I called the police but was told that they got a special pass on the local noise ordinance, but he'd send someone around. Well, I finally gave up trying to sleep - mind you, this POS bar/restaurant is a good quarter of a mile away from me and it's so fucking loud that if I knew the shit they were playing I could give you the set list. I can tell you that they have played that song where the woman yells, "I've got the power." Or "We've got the power." Since then, it's been pure bass and percussion and needless to say it's pissing me off. I would dearly love to find out where the manager or owner of Crave lives so that tomorrow when they're trying to sleep after working all night and keeping me awake, I could go to their houses and blast some Nine Inch Nails or The Stooges or Skinny Puppy.

I told the police officer "I have to deal with this every Friday and Saturday night until 2:00 a.m. and don't complain, but it's Sunday night and I have to work at 6:00 a.m." He understood, but because the city has chosen to allow them to blast music half the night, the police can't do anything about it. I'm really pleased because I just looked Crave up to call them (yeah, they didn't answer, the fuckers) and this is a series of SEVEN Sunday night parties. I will be finding somewhere else to spend the night those nights, since it seems as if since I've complained they've just gotten louder. The really ridiculous part of this? It's only 40-some degrees out there, so are there really people OUTSIDE in 40 degree weather? I also can't even begin to imagine how bloody loud it must be over there considering how friggin' loud it is in my apt and I'm a quarter of a mile away. BTW, the answer to that question is yes, because I can hear some chick screaming.

Do you think if I showed up in my PJs that anything would change? Yeah, me neither.

Wow, it's only 11:30, just 2.5 more hours of this crap and then I can get two hours of sleep. That'll make me effective and cheery tomorrow. I will be calling the City of Dearborn tomorrow, not that I think it'll do any good, but it's good to get a complaint in. And if necessary, I'll petition the neighbors to call. I can't possibly be the only one being bothered by it.