Saturday, October 29, 2016

Melish Lives And Is Sleeping Tight

The turbulence of the last couple of weeks is mostly over and I'm happy to announce that Melish, the soldier who gets stabbed to death in the "Saving Private Ryan" clip from the previous post is not fatally wounded after all. That is to say, the sobriety he metaphorically represented is back and steaming along quite fine, thank you very much. Back to Day 3 but steaming along nevertheless.

And "Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." can again be a pre-sleep saying 'cause it turns out the the bug bites were exclusively from work after all. No bed bugs in my apartment. The exterminator guy even came and checked it out and gave me the "all clear."

The only remaining bit of turbulence would be the continued overtime I'm doing and how it's slowly but surely fraying every last nerve. But I'm hanging in there. Big fat paychecks like the one I got yesterday are quite the salve to sooth the savage beast that is my growing impatience and snitty-ness, as Linda would say.

Speaking of Linda, and Wayne, but not my family who, it turns out, may all be back in RI now, I was thinking of flying up there and visiting them for T-day week. I have that week off as my replacement vacation so I have the time. I've been watching "Transparent" on my Amazon Fire stick with my newly-acquired subscription to Amazon Prime and it's got me thinking about my choice regarding my isolation from people who mean something to me. My New England friends only, of course. My family burned down that bridge (maybe I threw a match into the pyre as well a few times) so revisiting their relationships with me won't be on the table.

But, after a recent search using my super-duper hacker skillz (ie. a shitload of Google searches mixed in with some assumptions) I think my sister, her wife Jan and my dad are all back up north. It looks like they sold their house in Fort Pierce and I think my dad was living with them so... Also, my sister's Facebook says she "Lives in Woonsocket, Rhode Island" so there's that. So this might make me the only family member to have survived the Florida Curse and stayed here. I'll clue you in some other time as to the details of how moving to Florida in the 90s affected each of us in the most severe ways. Well, you kinda know about my struggles already, they've had their Koyos too, believe me.

So three cheers!

I beat the cravings (for the present anyway) and am alcohol-free! Hip hip, hooray!

I didn't track any pesky bed bugs home and haven't been bitten at work again either! Hip hip, hooray!

And I'm the last Chausse standing in the Sunshine State! Hip hip, hooray!

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Saving Private Ryan Shhh Scene

This is exactly the way it showed up in Google as I was typing out what I remembered from the movie so I guess I'm not the only one who knew the scene but had no idea of the character names. Good way to describe it. And a great way to visualize how I currently feel about my sober self getting killed by my drunk self.

Drunk Self: Takes another swig of beer "Shhh, don't fight it. It'll be over soon, don't worry."

Drunk Self plunges Sober Self's own army knife slowly into Sober Self's chest like cutting into butter, easily splitting open his heart.

Sober Self: "Stop! Stop No, no, no, no! NO! Gurgle.

Monday, October 24, 2016

Failure To Learn From History

Will only doom us to repeat ourselves. Here white man goes again...

This video is freakin' hilarious though!

Thursday, October 20, 2016

What Cheer?

I've been feeling a bit depressed lately but I know it'll be mild and temporary. I think it's a combination of the bed bug question and work stressors as well as a recent bout of trials of my endurance of commitment. Eh, it's also October, the perennial month of change each year. I put myself back on the bupropion as a helpful bump.

The "trials of my endurance of commitment" are a series of three times in the past week where I was challenged with the decision to drink or not and I gave in to the addiction. Yes, that's right, I'm trying to hop on the wagon again. 'Twas no smashing glass that initiated it about thirty days ago, it "just felt like the time." With the upcoming opportunity of October looming during those last days of September, I struck out rather ordinary...swearing solemnly off the sauce after a too-familiar "night" of six Longhammers and a Foster kicker. As usual and persistent of late, I didn't fare well the next "day," a workday at that, and so just said "it's time." And this time it stuck. Well until these aforementioned "trials."

First was a fierce craving for homemade spaghetti and meatballs necessitating, oh-so-conveniently, a stop on the way home one morning at Publix. You'd think my craving included the natural complimentary beverage to go with the meal, a nice bottle (or two) of Chianti. And it did, but I chose, of course, to start my cruise through the aisles on the far right. The cheese aisle, which is also the beer aisle. And there, though I tried to avert my eyes away, I spied in my peripheral vision that the Torpedo twelvers were again on sale. And a deeper discount than a couple weeks before. It took me a while, after I'd gathered my ground beef, breadcrumbs, pasta and sauce but I eventually made my way back to the beer aisle. Publix Crises within a Publix are devastating. I was practically in tears from the internal struggle.

The Torpedos did their job, I passed out within a couple of hours. Of course I held off making the meal. Instead, though discovered only after I'd woken up the next day by way of the evidence around the apartment, I gorged through half of a frozen family-sized lasagna and even managed to spill some on the living room carpet, creating a big, ugly red stain.

Blackout, check; passed out, check; wicked hangover, check. But no pleasure. Whether my mind rejected the euphoria or my brain chemistry is somehow altered, I didn't enjoy that warm glow that usually associated the early slugs, the giddy silliness that usually accompanies the mid-stages after about four or so and the blissful stupor which usually defines the late-stages, just before passing out. Well, the mid and late stages being under the cloak of the blackout, maybe I did then, but afterward, of course, remembered nothing. There definitely was no warm glow in the beginning though. Just nausea and fear of encroaching GERD coupled with the dislike of the bitterness of the hoppy brew. Like a kid would react to a few sips of his dad's strong IPA.

The second trial was the day after recovery day, ie two days later. This time I was in Winn-Dixie searching for hydrocortisone cream to sooth my itchy bug bites. But why enter and head to the right? The pharmacy items are to the far left. Oh, just a few odds and ends while I'm the Chianti. And here it was on a fabulous sale. And for a 1.5 liter. No pass out or blackout this time 'round, but again no pleasure. No euphoria. Just literally sour grapes.

A couple days later, freaking out over the thought of this potential bed bug infestation and dealing with an "all-dayer" and a couple Monster energy drinks under my belt, I needed to "wind down" quickly. And the Benedryls weren't making a dent. So for "sleep-aid medicine" I got out of my freshly-sanitized bed and planned to quickly grab a twelver at nearby WD. But approaching my car, I saw that what must have been the biggest flock of seagulls ever had shit bombed my car overnight and it was covered in it. I had to take care of this first so I drove down to the Mobil where there's an automatic car wash and the car wash was closed. The clerks said there was another in Altamonte but instead I just grabbed a twelve of Yuengling and headed back home, bird shit be dammed.

I sucked the first two down as fast as possible. This should bring on the "warm fuzzies" fast. It didn't. Two more, lickity-split. But they were hard to swallow. they were ice cold and fresh and should have been delicious but my taste buds had changed. They didn't like the taste of beer. And the glow never came. My heart and mind were darkened to alcohol. It was being shunned and could entrance me no more. I knew that now. So I solemnly opened each of the other eight cans and poured them down the drain.

Now two more days later, I think I'm through the gauntlet. Well, no, I feel it, really. It's just an overwhelming sensation of being done with it for good. Though tomorrow would have been the 30-day mark, the white chip if you will, I'm starting over and back to Day 2. And that's okay. I feel good. Really. I'm a bit down, but withdrawals and the realization of a dynamic shift in one's life can do that.

I'll be okay.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

My Country 'Tis Of Thee

Sweet Land of Liberty,

Of Thee I Sing;

Land where my Fathers Died,

Land of the Pilgrims' Pride,

From ev-er-y Mountainside...

Let Freedom Ring!

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

New Apartment Pics: ~Day 730

Well, while not exactly "new" since I shot these tonight which is pretty much about two full years from the date that I moved in, I have finally completed "the look" to my satisfaction. Mysterious possible bed bug infestation not withstanding. (That's right, I've yet to find any evidence of the little fuckers here, at home.)

I eliminated the dying plant on the left side of the TV and moved the new plant I bought a couple weeks ago to the porch. Info on the species (Dracaerna Marginata) says it doesn't do well as an outdoor plant. Well the fucker better adapt 'cause I'm lately a bit skeevish about any living things in the house so it's staying out there. The exterior of the building just got a very much needed bleach-infused power washing making it now quite nice and clean out there.

I moved the small lacquered table with the Greek vase/LED pussy willow setup where the plant was and it looks really nice. Shoulda put it here long ago. Where it was, near the front door to the apartment, I bought a really nice little cube organizer from Target and placed it there. Moved around a few candles and found a nice decorative punch bowl for the top of the faux sideboard in the dining room. Oh and the floating shelf unit installed over the TV that I got a week or so ago with its little votive candle array. So cute!

Sorry for the shitty quality screen caps. It's a fuckin' Windows phone with a crap camera and it is low-ish lighting.

Here's the full video:

Monday, October 17, 2016

...And Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite

Remember the days when saying that good night bidding was just an olde tyme phrase which was meaningless in the late 20th century developed world?

Well not anymore. Like so many other things that have gone downhill over the past few years, the relative freedom from pesky bed bugs is long gone. We've all seen the news reports over the past decade or so...bed bugs are back.

And now I got 'em.

Must have tracked them home from here at work where several residents have had infestations in their rooms and apartments. Or maybe the mattress I slept on last Friday when the hurricane blew by and I was stuck here for the day.

I got bites all on the inside of my right arm, from palm to pit, some on the right side of my belly and just a few minutes ago felt the itch of at least one on my left arm.

This all started yesterday, it would seem. That's when I first noticed them. The bites that is. I haven't yet seen one single bug. Oh yes, I've seen them here but not at home. But now that I'm reading what I'm typing it just dawns on me.

What if they're not at home?

I mean, I stripped my bed down and it's pristine. The mattress is a really tightly woven one from IKEA. It even has a zipper so I looked inside where the stuffing and spring coils are. Nothing. The bed frame is IKEA as well with cedar slats instead of a box spring. Clean hardwood and metal...that's all I see. I vacuumed the whole bedroom and closely examined the sheets, pillow cases and comforter. Not even a spot of blood or a speck of bug poop. Just a few flecks of grey dust dots from the admittedly dust-clogged Lasko tower fan. What if the bugs are here, in this desk I sit at? Right now my right arm and side is touching the desktop. But then question would be, why don't I see them here?

Nah. Wishful thinking really since it looks like it'll be, from what I've read, a real pain to get rid of them at home. My lease has a bed bug addendum which I think means they'll treat my apartment but it's the hassle of having to have them come in and do so during my normal sleep time. And I'm working mad hours now with Tosha gone so I need my sleep.

Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that. Tosha didn't show up for her shift last Thursday when the storm was approaching even though we all had received a written notice about the need to be here for our shifts or it would cost us our jobs. Well they enforced it on her alright. So now she's out and they're scrambling to get a replacement so in the meantime...beaucoup overtime baby!

Just as well. I'll need the extra cash for all the hydrocortisone cream I need for these damn itchy bites.

Wherever they're coming from.

EDIT: Update: As of 5:20 am I noticed that indeed I am being bitten here at work. And upon closer inspection of this desktop I'm sitting at I found this little bug. It's not a bed bug. It's way too tiny. I think it's a flea! No, I checked again and compared to pics online of's a fucking bed bug. Looks like a 2nd instar (stage) nymph. Are they in my clothes? Are they here only or at home too?

Monday, October 10, 2016

"I'm A Gentleman"

In my opinion, the quote of the night of this second presidential debate is when Donald Trump "chivalrously" agreed to Hillary going first in answering one of the town hall format questions from a stage-side attendee. "I'm a gentleman" he proudly declared as he motioned her through.

The audience burst out laughing.

"I'm a gentleman" REALLY?

Not twenty minutes earlier in the debate he started the evening uncharacteristically demure as he fessed up and apologized for his actions caught on video and made public just days ago. As everyone has by now heard, in the clip he talks about women in such unbelievably crude and vulgar terms. Tonight he reiterated his excuse of his behavior as just "locker room talk." Like all guys in locker rooms talk like that.

Well personally not being 1.) a sports player partaking of any locker room facilities and 2.) a man having any interest in talking with other men about female sexuality or physical attributes, I just don't get it. I mean do straight guys really banter with each other, as they themselves are around each other likely half naked, peeling off layers of clothes, smelling each others sweaty, manly aromas, reminiscing about pussy and hot chicks and sexually exploiting them? Are some of them getting boners while doing this? Man, I should have participated in sports back in my school days. This sounds like the start of a very hot gay porn flick.

But Donald is a gentleman. He only denigrates and debases women verbally when he's in a locker room or about ready to appear on Access Hollywood. With a microphone attached. Having many years of television appearances and knowing his mic was being sound checked.

But is all of America seeing now, finally, Donald Trump in his true colors and shunning him en masse? Was this just the final straw?

Apparently not. At the end of the debate I watched the two candidates meet and greet members of the attending audience and women, normal-looking, logical-looking, sane-looking women were actually coming up to him and getting selfies taken with him!...with his arm around them! And they're beaming a big smile, as happy as can be! WTF!!

This is how Hitler came to power. A blindly loyal fan base lulled by charismatic yet factless bullshit and promises of a brighter tomorrow by pointing a finger at "those to blame." 'Cause there's always "those to blame." And to them, no wrong could be done by their hero.

We know he can't win. If he did, then it's pretty much over. But what happens to these fanatic supporters of his? The so-called "basket of deplorables" when Hillary becomes president?

Fuck Russia. Fuck ISIS. They're the one's we'll need to worry about.

Thursday, October 06, 2016

Here We Blow Again

There's something with me and wind storms.

My biggest, most terrifying nightmare when I was a kid? Not the Devil, though he was a close second. It was a tornado!

My real life experience with significant storms?

In the 1980s Hurricane Gloria and to some degree Bob up north...yes they can be bad in southeastern New England but I was well insulated both times being inland by about 50 or 60 miles shrouded by dense forests, hills and valleys.

In the 1990s with Hurricane Floyd here in Florida. The newscasts leading up to the event of reported landfall were as doom and gloom as any I'd ever seen up to that point. Luckily, it veered away at the last minute and catastrophe was avoided.

In the 2000s I endured the big, loud and scary storm Hurricane Ivan as it blew slightly east of New Orleans but luckily it was all bark and no bite proving to be no more than a glancing blow to the city that a year later would infamously bear the direct hit of the similarly sized Katrina.

Ric and others here in Central Florida back in '04 had three storms that summer causing much damage and electrical power issues for weeks. I was in New Orleans during those.

Now here we are poised again facing a big baddy heading my way. The TV news sounds grim. This time I may not be able to wiggle my way out of it.

It's not the wind, rain, flooding or any part of the storm itself that most upsets me, it's the potential days if not weeks without electricity. What will I do? No TV. No Netflix. No ebooks. No phone. No cooking. No air conditioning!!! No internet!!! No computer games!!! CIV VI is coming out in two weeks, dammit! I need everything back to normal for that!

Ah well. Once again, not at all pertinent to our plight here in Central Florida I bring you a drag queen update on a hurricane that blew a long, long time ago in a land (Rhode Island) far, far away.