Life in Rochester is....well....I guess I'm not sure what life in Rochester is like, with working as much as I am. I'm excited for two weeks from now when I will slip back into having only one full-time job. Of course, with my disposition, that will still be one job too many, but what can you do?
Anyway, the other big development is that my wife is now the scariest person I know. On Friday she began dissecting her cadaver as part of her human anatomy course. Now think about this - the only people who have had the experience she is having now are doctors and serial killers. Which is she? I guess we shall see, although I'm leaning towards the latter.
A bunch of you read my post yesterday and then proceeded to a)wish me good luck in finding friends b) wish me no luck in finding friends or c) place bets about how long it will be before I trudge home. Fair enough.
However, as I thought about it last night, I guess what I really miss is not Brian Perkins's whining or Brendo's horrible habit of groping me when I'm asleep. No, what I really miss are the shows. So, I'm going to start petitioning for the FXA reunion tour 2006. Who's with me?
I had an epiphany the other day while I was at the Guitar Center - I have no friends. Additionally, I really liked the friends I had in Boston, even Brendo Frendo (kinda).
I also have no band. Well, specifically I have no Gordon, Jordan and Pete. Maybe it's taken my current loneliness to realize what a great thing I had with those fellas and how much I miss it, or maybe now I'm just far enough away from all the little grievances to be able to focus on the good things.
Regardless, as Cinderella said, you don't know what you got till it's gone. Also, my gypsy road can't take me home.
So Monday was one of Guitar Center's annual huge-ass everything must go sales. It was also the day I was supposed to make approximately a billion dollars and ended up making about 70. It seems that with gas prices where they are, plus Rochester's dismal economy, picking up that rackmount effects unit isn't of paramount importance. Oh well.
It wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have to have conversations like this one, which I will repeat here verbatim.
Customer: Hey, you guys having a big sale today? Me (happily ignoring that this dude is disregarding about nine million "we're having a huge sale!" signs): Yes sir. Customer: Hmmmmmm Me: Anything I can help you with? Customer: I guess I need a pick. Me: OK, how many? Customer: Just one. How much is that? Me: Thirty-five cents. Customer: Wait, that's what it costs all the time! Me: Um, yeah..... Customer: I thought this was a sale! Me: Well, the sale is on things like guitars and amps and drums and...well, things that cost more than thirty-five cents. Customer: That's ridiculous. You shouldn't say you're having a sale if you're not. Me (deciding to let my fury fly, I reached into my pocket and slammed thirty-five cents on the counter): Wow! Look! It's free pick day! Who's the big winner?
Then I walked away. Of course, I never really rang up the sale, so him taking the pick was technically stealing. I think I'll have him banned from the store.
Anyway, thanks for reading. While you're here, enter the "how long will Joe last at this job" sweepstakes.
Well, the crap-ass Compaq Presario is fully operational once again. Man, I hate when computer stuff breaks. It completely throws me for a loop, especially since I'm the type of person who thinks he's a lot smarter than he is and never writes things own or remembers where he put them.
And so as I start to rebuild my computer from the image of the hard drive I saved on an external drive I keep being faced with many "What the hell?" questions.
All my programs now need their original discs and serial numbers to be re-installed. Some of them, like Microsoft Office are being stone cold bitches. I probably should have kept some of that stuff around, but isn't there any built in security to protect dumbasses like me?
Also, all my cookies are gone, so every password protected site I visit needs me to remember passwords I made up in a drunken stupor two years ago. And so if I'm lucky enough to get the user name right I end up getting emails that look like this.
Dear Sprint PCS customer,
Thank you for contacting us concerning your forgotten password. It is FARTsTER7632. Please remember that all passwords are case sensitive.
Simply put, my life is in a tizzy. Since we last spoke I've picked up two jobs that have me working 14 hour days and collectively making less than I made semi-working one job in beantown. Life is, of course, terrible.
Anyway, here's what I do:
-One job has me working for a company called Skyhook Wireless. They have hired me to map out all the wireless hotspots in Rochester. Apparently, they are a shell corporation for aliens looking to take over the world because 1) I haven't been informed what the hell a wireless hotspot is and 2) I do none of the mapping myself. I simply strap on this palm pilot looking device that undoubtedly sends gamma death rays into innocent peoples' homes and drive down EVERY street in the city. Work is, of course, terrible.
-My other job has caused me to really search my soul to see what kind of person I am. People, despite all the shit I have talked about them in this very journal, despite all the times I have cursed them out and rued their very existence, despite all of this I have taken a job at Guitar Center. I try to justify it to myself by arguing that the economy here is really depressed and that just being around guitars is better than being around a bitchy old boss, but I don't know. I guess in the end all I can do is to try and be the guy I have wished would wait on me at GC, instead of the innumerable douchebags I have dealt with in the past.