Bitching with Dusio: Two days, Tuesdays.

Bitching with Dusio

The rantings, ravings and musings of a now mid-forties american male. Sex, violence, rock-n-roll. Also, emotions and all that other mushy crap.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Two days, Tuesdays.

Yeah, it’s been a while. It was a long weekend. Not long as in I had a lot of time off; long as in I had a ton of things to do. Thursday night the bike night was cancelled, so I went to a bar and had a few beers. I guy I met at the bar bought me a shot and I ended up getting fairly hammered. I got home at like 9pm, and promptly puked afterward. I can usually drink quite a bit of beer with no issues, so it must have been the shot. I felt like hell all day Friday and into Saturday. I haven’t had a hangover that bad in years.
Saturday I worked at the bike shop. It was slow and boring. Not even that many hotties came in.
So, here I am, back at work on Monday. I think I need to stop working Saturdays at the bike shop, just so I have more than one day off, but I like the money. I don’t know.
You’d think I’d have a lot to talk about seeing as how I haven’t written anything in days, but I seem to be at a loss. I’m not in the mood to bitch about politics or any of that stuff, just suffice it to say, I hate the president and the world is going to hell quickly.
I think it’s going to be a long week, too. I need to find a hobby or sport to play. I just don’t seem to have anything in my life that provides me pleasure. I know, I have kids, and a significant other, but I don’t have anything that I do for myself, that I enjoy. I guess I just want to find something that I look forward to doing. I like to read and do crosswords and mess around on the computer, but I only get to do any of those things sporadically. I rarely get a chance to read. I really enjoy reading, when I find something I want to read, but when I get home from work, I have things to do. Clean this, fix that, deal with kids, etc., etc. I guess that’s what happens when you get older.
Being tired always makes me a bit depressed. If I sit here and think of things that would make me happy or I would enjoy, I can’t think of anything. Taking a nap would be fun.
Watch out for the swinging mood.

I’m just a moody son of a bitch when I’m tired.

I’ve been writing this one entry over the span of two days. Yesterday, Monday, I just didn’t have much to say. I don’t know that I have much more to say today, but I’ll give it a shot. Plus, it’s Hottie Goth Day, so I need to post something.

I went out to do an inspection of a fire at an apartment today. It was actually in one apartment, but it damaged four along a row. As you got closer to the actual fire scene, each apartment got worse. By the third, you could see where the fire actually was. It looks as though it started in the kitchen; it burned straight up, getting the upstairs bedroom, the next apartment’s kitchen and their upstairs bedroom. It also spread throughout the downstairs in the fourth apartment. An elderly lady died in the fourth apartment. Kinda creepy. I can still smell the smoke in my nose and on my clothes. It’s nasty.

The S.O. and I had sex last night. It was the first time in months, I think. It was ok. Nothing to exciting. Our sex tends to be the same every time. I get her off manually, with my hand, then I mount up and get my chance. Yee haw. We need some variation in our sex life. I hot little asian chick would do it.

The weather is beautiful today. Sun is out, sky is clear, temperature is warm, but comfortable. Not that I am out enjoying it. Maybe I’ll go to the pool tonight.

I took a nice slice off the top of my thumb on Saturday. I was slicing potatoes for dinner with a mandolin, a slidey thing with a blade, and my hand slipped and I slid the top of my thumb across the blade. Took off a perfect slice. I bled like crazy. I finally staunched the bleeding and taped the hell out of it. Damn thing still hurts. I told the kids that I couldn’t find the piece of skin from my thumb and that it must be in the potatoes. They were a little grossed out. I did find the piece, don’t worry, I’m not deranged.

Saturday, the S.O. and I went to a bar after I picked her up from work. We had a beer and some pizza. It was a trendy little place with gourmet food. Very yummy. It’s nice to get out and do something by ourselves. There were a lot of twenty-somethings there. I was thinking that if I was suddenly 25 or so, I would not know what to talk about with others that age. I’m sure I could b.s. through it, but I just don’t have any desire to talk much with people of that age. All I know anymore is kids and work and my opinions. I have a hard time listening to people who haven’t lived or experienced things. Especially if they have strong opinions about something they haven’t experienced. Such as: You’ll here people in there twenties with no kids say, “my kids will never do this, or act like that.” Or, “My kids won’t watch TV.” All I have to say is ‘bullshit’ and talk to me when you have kids. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for someone to reserve their judgments or criticisms until they themselves have walked in others’ shoes. You can extrapolate that to pretty much anything in life. You really can’t judge someone until you have been in their situation. It doesn’t justify someone doing something wrong, but to truly understand why someone acts the way they do, you have to understand what they were going through at that moment. What their life experiences were.

I’m a firm believer in psychology. I think you can predict how someone will tend to act based on prior history and experience. Now, nothing is definitive, but you can trend it out. I think the key to any good mental health treatment plan is psychoanalysis. I’m not saying spending years on a couch complaining about your parents, but those experiences as a kid do weigh heavily on future conduct. Not that physical issues aren’t a part of it. I think brain chemistry is a huge part of some mental diseases. Like schizophrenia. Or chronic depression. Many things can be talked out, but sometimes there are physical issues that need addressed. My second wife didn’t believe that a mental disease is the same as any disease. There is a problem with a part of your body, and your body reacts accordingly. She was not too bright. She got that from her mother who was a hypocritical, bigoted cow. Does that sound bitter?

posted by dusio @ 8/15/2006 02:37:00 PM

2 Comments:

At 9:07 PM, Anonymous said…

hahahahaha, I love the sweet sweet song of the bitter bird!
;)
At 5:29 AM, dusio said…

My throat gets tired from singing that song!