Category Archives: Personal
This trip to Kansas City has been a bust. Huge bust. It isn’t Kansas City’s fault.
I was supposed to get the Buick detailed Saturday. Turns out the place didn’t have enough workers on staff. I rescheduled it for this Thursday, which would be okay, if not for something which happened today.
The left turn signal on the Buick is now burned out. I discovered this coming out of the automatic car wash on Wornall. Now I have to take the car to James Motors Friday and get all of the headlights and tail lights replaced.
I drove from Briarcliff to south Kansas City without my phone. LOVELY. Frank was trying to get a hold of me for an hour, but dumbass me was unreachable because my phone was in the hotel room, and my iPad was in the trunk of the car.
At least the iPad was working. Yesterday at 1500, it shut down all of a sudden for no reason. I had been streaming movies through the iPad to the television in the room, yet all of a sudden, the iPad’s screen went pitch black. This really angered me, especially since I received the iPad only last Wednesday.
I chatted online with Apple support. I was desperate to get an appointment with a technician at one of the two Apple stores in Kansas City. After a long amount of wrangling, I finally received one for 1250 today at the store on the Country Club Plaza. Good I got an appointment. Bad that it was on the Plaza, a place I hate going to due to the crush of people and lack of parking. I have not visited the Plaza in almost a decade, and I have no desire to return any time soon.
I was hoping I wouldn’t have to go to the Plaza. I searched on Verizon’s site about an iPad where the screen was totally black for no reason. It suggested a quick fix, and sure enough, my device came back to life.
Today, Frank needed something from me ASAP, and while I had my iPad, I did not have the full-sized keyboard I use with it. I left that in my room, too. I tried the best I could with using the on-screen keyboard, but it was painful. I tried dictation, but with people’s names, that’s tough. Somehow, I got through it.
Spent most of yesterday sleeping. Considering I had little sleep the previous week, it was understandable. I have to sleep better.
Ready to go home tomorrow. I thought about going to a basketball game in Norton to see Peggy and Caitlyn, but with the turn signal out, I don’t know. Ugh. My life.
I swear I need to discipline myself to post every day during 2019, no matter how short or how silly it might be. Actually, short posts might be better considering I have the tendency for posts which fall just short of the length of War and Peace.
I didn’t get to Kansas City until 1915 last night. I had to stay behind in Hays due to an eye exam with Dr. Stacey Jones at 1415. It was the last time I’ll visit her at the corner of Canterbury and 22nd in Hays, because in January, she and her husband will open their own ophthalmology/dentistry private practice in downtown Hays across the corner from the Hays public library, Fox Theater and James Motors. I’ve been seeing Dr. Jones since moving to Kansas in 2005, and she has picked up right where my ophthalmologist in Louisiana, Dr. Martin Schoenberger, left off. Both have been great caring for my vision.
I ended up sending out 73 Christmas cards. So, far one has been labeled returned to sender. One person was not happy that I looked up their address and sent a card. Peggy, Caitlyn, Brenda, Dorinda and a few others, some of whom were middle school classmates of mine in 1988 and ’89, were much happier. They’ll stay on the list for 2019. The complainer won’t.
Tuesday was the 30th anniversary of my only memorable athletic achievement.
I played youth basketball for the local playground, Carolyn Park, for three years in the 1980s. My last year was in the 1988-89 season, when I played on Carolyn Park’s 11-year old team (I was 12 by time the season started, but since I had an October birthday, I played with the 11-year olds, as did my Arabi Park Middle classmate, Jason Malasovich). The goals were only 8 1/2 feet high, and the free throw lanes were trapezoidal shaped like they were in international basketball at the time, albeit narrower than what was used both internationally and the NBA.
On the afternoon of Dec. 18, 1988, Carolyn Park played Versailles, which was located at the junction of Paris Road and St. Bernard Highway in Chalmette, not too far from the ferry landing where the boats which ran between Chalmette and the Algiers section of New Orleans would take on cars.
There were six playgrounds in St. Bernard Parish. Carolyn Park was the farthest west, taking in the community of Arabi, which stretched from the city limits of New Orleans about two miles to the east. Three–Vista, Versailles and Rebel–were in Chalmette, the largest community in St. Bernard. Bournemouth (spelled the same as the city on the south coast of England) was in Meraux and Violet, and then Kenilworth took in the eastern third of the parish.
Carolyn Park didn’t have its own gym, so the game was played at Bournemouth. Four nights earlier, my team played Kenilworth at Bournemouth’s gym, and I had a decent game, scoring six points and blocking a shot from behind. I blocked the shot from 12 feet at its apex and it flew out of bounds. I could hear my mother and brother cheering that one.
Jason was one of three very good players that Carolyn Park team had. The others wer the guards, Chad Nuccio, son of our coach, A.J. Nuccio, and Trey Guillot, who later enjoyed a stellar baseball career at Holy Cross before pitching for Tulane. I wasn’t athletic enough to be a starter, but I came of the bench and did what needed to be done, mostly rebounding, good defense and points here and there.
In the game vs. Versailles, I scored on a pair of jump shots from the foul line in the second period, and it helped Carolyn Park lead 30-15 at halftime.
In the second half, Versailles came back. It had a couple of future high school varsity starters, Brett Tessitore (Archbishop Hannah) and Michael Marques (Brother Martin); Michael was in my graduating class at Brother Martin, and his dad and my dad worked together at Air Products and Chemicals.
Foul trouble nearly crippled Carolyn Park. Five players fouled out, including Chad and Jason. I would have been on the bench the entire second half, but the starter who played my position, Alex Dupre, fouled out with three minutes left. I knew it was his fifth foul, and coach Nuccio sent me into the game.
As the fouls began to pile up, I got so angry I slammed the ball with 90 seconds left. It was right in front of an official. I should have been given a technical foul. He let it go. He must have known I was frustrated.
With 30 seconds left, Carolyn Park was down to four players. Basketball rules allow a team to play with fewer than five if players foul out or are ejected, but you cannot start a game with fewer than five.
I thought I would be gone with another foul, but it turned out I had three. With 12 seconds left, Versailles missed the front end of a one-and-one (the double bonus was not adopted in high school basketball until 1995-96), leaving it ahead 45-44.
Trey pulled down the rebound and sped down the left sideline with a beautiful left-handed dribble. His layup was off the mark.
The rebound came down to the right side of the lane to #14. ME.
From seven feet away, I put an awkward-looking jumper.
It skimmed the backboard and fell through with two seconds left.
Versailles called timeout. I was mobbed by my teammates and coaches. All we had to do was defend and my shot would be the winner.
Versailles threw a long pass which was tipped and bounced harmlessly away. Carolyn Park won 46-45.
Of course, I got a hugely inflated head over the shot. I bragged about it the next two days at Arabi Park. Thankfully for Jason, Shawn O’Neil (who was a damn good player for Vista) and my other classmates, school let out that Tuesday for the holidays.
The shot went to my head. I played like crap the next two games, and my dad suggested after the second, a 19-point loss to Rebel, that I quit because I wasn’t committed.
The Thursday after Christmas, I wasn’t feeling well. I was battling a cold, and I had to wear long sleeves under my jersey. Carolyn Park played Bournemouth all the way at Kenilworth at the other end of the parish.
I was on the bench in the first quarter. In the second quarter, I went off.
Ten points in six minutes. I went to the foul line for the first time that season and swished both shots. I played the entire second half and finished with 14 points in Carolyn Park’s 53-34 victory.
The night before my big game, Shawn O’Neil held his 12th birthday party at Showbiz Pizza in Algiers, across the Mississippi River from St. Bernard Parish. Showbiz was Chuck E. Cheese’s competitor in the 1980s, and both places advertised heavily on the four main New Orleans television stations. Chuck E. Cheese was on the Metairie-Kenner line on Veterans Highway in Jefferson Parish.
Shawn’s dad insisted on taking the ferry to Algiers. I begged him not to. I HATED HTE FERRY. I hated it. I knew all about the infamous incident in 1976 (exactly one week after I was born) when a drunken ferry pilot did not see a huge tanker crossing the river in St. Charles Parish. The boats collided, and all of the cars went into the river. Of the 94 people on board the ferry, 78 perished.
My mother took the ferry often to visit her mother, who lived in Algiers from 1970 until her death in 1992. It made some sense before October 1988, when the second span of the Greater New Orleans Bridge (now the Crescent City Connection) opened. When it was one bridge and there were only two lanes of traffic in each direction, an accident could cause delays of up to six hours in some cases.
I tried to get girls in our class at Arabi Park, especially Stacie Dauterive (now Seube) invitations, but the O’Neils said no way.
Jason and I had to play in a Christmas concert in New Orlean’s’ Jackson Square with the Arabi Park Middle band the day before I hit my game-winning shot. It was chilly and windy. Good preparation for my future life as it turned out.
Shawn, Jason, Stacie and a few others from Arabi Park were on my Christmas card list. I would give anything to see all of them. I’m very happy that rift has been repaired. It was pretty ugly when I left Arabi Park after seventh grade for Brother Martin. I lorded Brother Martin over them much worse than that game-winning shot, and it was little wonder why they were glad to see me continue my education at 4401 Elysian Fields Avenue in New Orleans.
Apparently, forgiveness is a four-letter word to some I’ve known through the years. Sad.
Well,, the Brewers tried to give it away last night. Fortunately, they didn’t, and held on to beat the Dodgers 6-5 in game one of the National League Championship Series.
I listened to the second inning driving from Minsky’s to the hotel. Manny Machado hit a leadoff home run off Gio Gonzalez. I screamed to myself I knew it would happen. Therefore, I chose not to put myself through the ringer and watch the game. The Brewers ended up taking a 5-1 lead in the fourth, and I finally watched a few batters in the seventh.
I went to bed right after that. Luckily I wasn’t awake to see the Dodgers rally.
Game two is at 1500 today. I’ll be out and about so I won’t have to torture myself. Houston and Boston play at 1900 to open the American League Championship Series at Fenway Park.
My day has taken an unexpected turn. Actually, it took the turn last night just before I left Minsky’s.
I looked up the weather and saw the chance of snow in western and central Kansas for Sunday has increased greatly. The timing could not have been worse for a potential late morning return: by 0800 in Hays, 0900 in Russell, and 1100 in Salina. And worse, there is going to be accumulations from 2 to 4 inches in Hays and Russell.
Yikes. And tomorrow is only October 14.
Last October 14, I was running around in shorts with no sweatshirt. I wore a floral print shirt on my birthday, the same one I wore to eat with my dad, Brenda and Dorinda in Baton Rouge exactly six months later.
This October 14, I was going to be wearing a turtleneck and sweatshirt to drive home. I was afraid it wasn’t going to be enough. I was hitting myself (mentally only) for not packing my parka.
Now, I’ll be waking up in my own bed Sunday.
I’m driving home right after Ottawa plays volleyball. It’s not a bad drive–US 59 to Lawrence, then Interstate 70 home. US 59 is four lanes and controlled access between Ottawa and Lawrence, and I won’t have to go through the city of Lawrence (especially the KU campus) since K-10 goes around the west side to I-70. It will be about the same time (four hours) as going from Kansas City to Russell.
I drove home from Kansas City in the late, late hours on my 37th birthday (2013) to beat bad weather. I drove from Emporia to Abilene to Russell on my 30th birthday (2006), not getting home until after 11. Therefore, it’s nothing new.
It isn’t the worst thing to be going home early. Probably a good thing. Lots of work to do.
LSU plays Georgia in a supposedly huge Southeastern Conference game today. I hate to say it, but Georgia is going to run roughshod over the Bayou Bengals in my opinion. I can’t see LSU staying close for long. I like the Bulldogs 37-17. I won’t be watching that, either.
The final hour of my 42nd year is underway. In 45 minutes, year #43 officially starts.
I am sorry about all the cursing. I wish I didn’t have to. But it’s been that bad.
Today has been hell. As bad as it was discovering the hotel in Lenexa was an island in the middle of a sea of construction, it would get worse. Much worse.
First, I should never, ever have assumed Peggy Cox told me not to come to Ottawa Saturday to watch Caitlyn play. I am very sorry I said that. I should not have.
When I left the hotel around 3:00 to go back to Johnson County, I backed out and happened to bump another car. I was scared shitless. I looked at the lady like I didn’t know what to do and I was so scared I almost took a dump in my pants. I screamed out loud and she got scared, but her husband told her I was screaming at myself, not her. He said everything was okay. I am very grateful. If they think I’m a total fool, then that’s fine. I don’t blame them.
The only good thing about today was getting my car cleaned.
Then came two incidents at two places along State Line Road that boiled my blood.
The first was at the QuikTrip just off I-435. I stop there quite often for gas and a drink, and sometimes to use the restroom. That QuikTrip is one of only a few which has no-ethanol gasoline.
I HATE ETHANOL. I HATE IT. It is dirty, it causes farmers to farm too much corn and not enough other crops, and it significantly reduces gas mileage. I was royally pissed later this evening when I found out Trump wants to allow the use of E-15 gas year-round. Asshole. Fuck you Trump. .It has been proven E-15 is 6 to 8 percent less fuel efficient than non-ethanol gas.
At the QuikTrip at State Line and 435, there are four pumps with non-ethanol fuel. Yet when I arrived at 4:15, all four pumps were occupied by customers buying non-ethanol fuel.
There are 16 pumps at this QuikTrip which do not have non-ethanol or diesel fuel at the pump. Diesel customers are not common in a big city, although I’m sure that QuikTrip gets some. Why the HELL do customers who want to buy the cheap shit have to block those who want to buy non-ethanol fuel? I complained to the ladies working the registers, but nobody seemed to care.
When I exited the store seven minutes later, three of the same vehicles which were blocking the non-ethanol pumps were still there!!!!! I saw one woman who was driving one of the blocking vehicles in the store.
That is pure rudeness right there. When you are finished pumping gas and you want to go into the store, please pull up to the front of the store and let someone else pump gas, especially when it’s blocking a non-ethanol pump and there are only four on site. At least she returned to a car after two minutes waiting and I was able to get my ethanol fuel.
What really pissed me off to no end was the other two vehicles sitting there in front of the non-ethanol pumps. A guy in a van with a Kansas plate (Franklin County; lordy, lordy he’s from Ottawa) was eating. EATING! Give me a break.
There was a woman in a black Toyota sitting there talking on her phone. She had the phone in her ear when I arrived at the store, and when I finally finished fueling, 12 minutes after arriving, SHE WAS STILL ON HER FUCKING CELL PHONE.
Okay, talking and driving is dangerous. But sitting in front of a gas pump at QuikTrip is not a place to conduct business or gab. If the woman’s conversation was THAT IMPORTANT, she should have parked somewhere else at the station. In her case, it would have been just as rude to take up a parking space for someone who wanted to go into the store, but there was plenty of parking at the back of the site (closest to 435).
Even worse, the woman was blocking a non-ethanol pump. What a rude bitch.
I was so pissed off about this I sent an angry message to QuikTrip through its Facebook page explaining this. I believe the stations which have non-ethanol fuel should post signs for customers who are not purchasing non-ethanol to avoid using those pumps if at all possible, and if not possible, to move immediately following fueling.
I only park my car in front of a pump when I am paying inside the store, and I only do it if there are more than half the pumps open. If it isn’t, I will fuel first, pull up to the front, then go in, or vice versa. Two credit card transactions is not the end of the world.
Then came the second incident I am pissed about.
I went shopping at the beautiful Super Target at 135th and State Line. Nice, big store, wide aisles, good selection. I will shop at Target any day of the week. NEVER WALMART. Lousy motherfuckers.
The shopping part was good. I went to the restroom, since I didn’t go at QuikTrip.
There was a man in the higher urinal, so I had to use the kiddie-sized one. Not a big deal.
But once the man in the other urinal finished, he just walked out WITHOUT WASHING HIS HANDS. I’m lucky I didn’t pee all over myself. I was that angry.
I have a hard and fast rule: any time I use a public restroom, I must wash my hands. I NEVER go without washing my hands in a public restroom. NEVER. That is absolutely disgusting to walk out without washing your hands. I’m wondering if he went home and touched his wife and kids with those nasty hands. Hopefully he isn’t married and doesn’t have kids.
I refuse to use a rest stop restroom on I-70 because they often lack soap to wash hands. I’ve encountered that many times at the one near Ellsworth, and also at the one near Solomon. I don’t use Solomon anymore, because Salina (westbound) and Abilene (eastbound) are close enough. The Ellsworth one is only westbound, and that’s why I try to stop before.
I wish there were a way the restroom door would lock if someone didn’t wash their hands. I would be willing to wait that disgusting piece of shit out until he washed his hands.
After what happened in Target, I was actually happy to sit in traffic on Missouri Highway 150 for a few minutes. I went all the way out to Independence to pick up Outback tonight. Then I had a 40-minute drive back west and north.
I’m going to try to forget about the rude people sitting in front of gas pumps and the disgusting man at Target. But I’m sure I will encounter many more of both types…probably before I leave Kansas City.
My 42nd birthday is shaping up to be the worst since I was half that age.
My 21st birthday in 1997 was a horror show. The day before, a Sunday, I got a flat tire driving back from my parents’ home in New Orleans to Baton Rouge to be back at LSU in time for class Monday. My mother had to come rescue me, because my father could not, since he was on company business in Brazil. It happened to be the day after LSU’s football team beat then-number one Florida, a game I didn’t attend because I was suspended from working with LSU’s sports information office because of a resignation letter I wrote the previous Sunday. Herb Vincent reinstated me the day after my birthday, and he should not have. Now that I look back on it, I’m glad I wasn’t at the game. It was a complete drunken madhouse.
The day of my 21st, it poured and it was chilly. My mother and I went to an appointment with the therapist I was seeing at the time (he was no Crista).
My 30th was hell. I covered a state tennis tournament, drove to Abilene for a football game, then back to Russell so I could be in Stockton the next morning for a volleyball tournament. At least I don’t have that to worry about.
My 39th was pretty bad, too. I was still devastated by all that went on in the summer of 2015 (starting July 17, at least) and my financial woes were wearing me way down.
My first hope was to be in Baton Rouge for the LSU-Georgia football game. Michael Bonnette, LSU’s longtime sports publicity director, suggested it to me when I was there in April for baseball. I made reservations for a hotel and a rental car.
That plan went awry in late August. Dan Borne, the public address announcer, said no way to me helping him spot in his booth. Then Michael refused to help me get a credential or even a ticket. Then tickets cost at least $150–and they’re now going for at least $350.
The next idea was to go to Ottawa to watch Caitlyn play volleyball. Peggy seemed open to it last week. Then last night she gave the hint that she did not want me there because an old friend of hers would be there.
Now I was stuck with a hotel room in Lenexa I couldn’t cancel. I booked there because it was much easier to drive from there to Ottawa down Interstate 35 than it was from the area around KCI, which is where I normally stay. I decided to make the trip anyway. Better to wallow alone than in the basement of my house.
When I got to the hotel, my jaw dropped. The area around the hotel looks like Panama City after Hurricane Michael. Construction EVERYWHERE. And the hotel lobby fronts the street, and there is only room for two cars to pull up and unload. Of course, the unloading area was clogged by ride share cars.
The parking area was a garage on the back side of the hotel…with three flights of stairs to descend to get to the back entrance. Holy fucking shit.
Worse, there was only one way to get out of the stupid garage, and you had to turn right and drive away from Interstate 435 before you could U-turn and go in the proper direction.
I was very upset. VERY UPSET. I would never have touched this hotel with a ten-meter pole if I had known. Besides, there is absolutely NOTHING around the hotel, and it would take 20 minutes to drive into Overland Park or Olathe to find something.
I was very, very, very fortunate I was able to cancel the reservation without penalty and book back across the river.
I’m now praying I have leukemia. I want to have leukemia. It would be far better than the shitty life I’m living.
I grilled a second steak last night on the outdoor grill at the hotel. I overdid it a little bit, but it still tasted great, and now I know don’t grill it so long. I thought about going out again after returning to the hotel at 1615 following my long day in Johnson County, but I saved my money and gas.
About 0400 I was feeling the effects of two steaks (and three QuikTrip pretzels, a whole sourdough bread bowl and the coconut shrimp from Outback I got Wednesday). I felt I might have to throw up, but fortunately that didn’t happen. I did need anti-nausea tablets and Alka Seltzer when I woke up, which wasn’t until almost 0900.
It is so cool outside today I’m wearing jeans for the first time since April 16, the day my dad and I left Baton Rouge and stopped in McAlester, Okla., on our way back to Russell. The mercury is not expected to climb above 17 Celsius (62 F) today or tomorrow.
I’m sick of the negative commercials being aired in Kansas City. Sharice Davids, the lesbian Native American left-wing radical running for Kansas’ 3rd District House seat vs. incumbent Kevin Yoder, has aired two negative ads in the last 35 minutes.
We don’t have that in Russell, since the incumbent House member, Roger Marshall, will easily beat perennial candidate and serial flip-flopper Alan LaPolice, who ran as Republican in the 2014 primary, as an Independent in the 2016 general election, and now as a Democrat. The idiot LaPolice is at least smart enough to not waste his money or breath on an election he’ll lose by 30 points.
I’ve got really nothing going on right now. I’m not in the mood for Buffalo Wild Wings, where all of the tablets which allow patrons to play Buzztime trivia are out of commission. Hopefully Robb and I can meet up.
There’s a gigantic high school football game tonight. Rockhurst, the powerhouse Catholic school on the Missouri side of State Line Road, takes on Bishop Miege, a school better known for its dominance of volleyball and girls basketball until recently, when its football program became Kansas’ most dominant. The game is at Miege’s tiny stadium, where they are expecting every seat to be filled by 1630 for a 1900 kickoff. Hopefully, the game can be played in the future at Children’s Mercy Park, home of Sporting Kansas City, or even Arrowhead.
Leaving in a minute. Epton.
I will be so glad when this circus surrounding the Brett Kavanaugh Supreme Court hearings are done. Enough already. I have an opinion. I am not sharing it.
I pigged on steak for dinner last night and again for breakfast this morning. Say what?
Yes, that’s right, I decided to buy a steak and cook it on the stove in my room in a cast iron grill pan. Turned out good, especially for breakfast and on a stove. I decided to eat all that beef because someone whom I don’t particularly care for (and doesn’t care for me) has a birthday today.
Someone I do particularly care for, someone I miss greatly, has a birthday tomorrow.
Wendy Durr Wall was born the same day (28 September 1970) Gamal Abdel Nasser died in Egypt. It also was 10 days after the passing of Jimi Hendrix, six prior to the heroin-induced death of Janis Joplin, and 12 days before my parents tied the knot after only two and a half months of knowing one another. I told Lisa that story so much because she and Jeff waited until over seven years after their first date and 21 1/2 months after Liam’s birth to marry. The good thing was Liam was so cute dressed up at their wedding.
I miss Wendy more than just about anyone on this earth. I have not seen her in 16 years. I ended my long drought without seeing Brenda and a few others in April. I don’t know if I’ll be so fortunate with Wendy. I can hope.
I have to get to the south (Johnson County) Epton. I need my car washed. I need to check in to getting the inside of my car completely cleaned. And I have an appointment with Andrea Hensley to get my back waxed in Prairie Village. Again. At least this time it’s cooler so I don’t have to worry about sweating and possible complications with the wax, because Andrea tells me to keep it dry overnight.
Epton? There’s a long story behind that. I now substitute that word for the phrase “before it’s too late”. Why, you ask? I don’t have time to explain right now. I have to leave the hotel Epton.
Today was a bust. No English football, didn’t get any work done and didn’t go anywhere. Ugh.
Tomorrow is the first full slate of NFL games for the season. Not too interested. Just like I wasn’t interested in college football today.
My blood pressure is too high, just like my weight and debt.
That’s enough for now. It’s late anyway.
I am blissfully unaware of what is going on in the college football game being played this evening. I am happy.
To me, Ed Orgeron is a grossly overpaid man who supervises a bunch of 18 to 22-year old male children playing a stupid game at what is supposed to be Louisiana’s flagship institution of higher education, although maybe it isn’t such a great institution of higher learning, considering I earned a degree from that university despite my grossly inadequate performance in every course except three (Louisiana government and two on constitutional law) during my time there.
I don’t care how the children Orgeron supervises do in their stupid game. Tell me how Orgeron should be making 30 times the salary of Louisiana Governor John Bel Edwards, who is paid $130,000.
Tell me how the head football coach of a state university in Alabama deserves his $11 million salary when Alabama still has many pockets of abject poverty and the state’s education system is ridiculed everywhere except Mississippi? You can’t.
Tell me how the head men’s basketball coach of a state university in Kansas deserves his $6 million salary when Kansas is broke, many legislators refuse to fund higher education adequately, and the man who may be the state’s next governor is threatening even further cuts? You can’t.
Tell me how the head women’s basketball coach at a state university in Connecticut deserves his $4 million salary, even if Connecticut doesn’t have as many people in poverty as Alabama or Kansas and the state’s education system is usually ranked pretty high? You can’t.
Notre Dame should not be paying its head football coach $10 million. But Notre Dame is a PRIVATE institution. The school is not getting a dime from the state of Indiana. If that were being paid to coaches at Purdue and/or IU, then that’s a huge problem.
I’m not enamored with the $10 million salaries a couple of NFL coaches are pulling in, but they are PROFESSIONAL football coaches. The owners of the teams can pay whatever they feel their coach is worth.
Four years ago, I was at Buffalo Wild Wings in Kansas City the first two Saturdays of the college football season, and again for four more Saturdays. I was there every Sunday for NFL games for each of the first six weeks.
WHY? Wasted time, wasted money. I was very happy I got to see Liz and Lisa (plus another employee of Buffalo Wild Wings at that time whom shall remain nameless), but come on. I could have put those days to much better use.
Now I’m seeing that. I’m not a slave to the television for 11 hours on Saturday and nine hours on Sunday.
By contrast, Premier League matches are over by 1330 on Saturday and 1200 on Sunday. Ten matches over three days (usually; this weekend was an exception, since there are no Monday matches) is a heck of a lot easier on the eyes and the brain than dozens of games on Saturday, then 12 more on Sunday and another on Monday.
I probably should follow the Bundesliga, Serie A, Ligue 1 and La Liga more. And possibly the three lower leagues in England.
I know what I will not be watching every Saturday for the next three months. Book it.
It’s now Friday. Thank God, because yesterday was horrendous.
The electricity in the entire city of Russell went off at 0130 yesterday. I noticed because the fans I have on stopped working, and my CPAP machine also quit. I was able to sleep because I had taken Seroquel. The power came on briefly at 0630, but by 0715, it was out again.
And it wouldn’t come on for good until 1545.
I was pissed. REALLY pissed. I could have taken it had it been winter, but not summer.
I’m sick and tired of hearing how much people hate winter compared to summer. Last I checked, you can put on layer after layer to combat the cold. You cannot strip naked to battle the heat of summer, unless you are at a clothing-optional location, and even then the heat is relentless.
I slept until almost 1300, then I couldn’t take being in the dark anymore. I got in my car and headed east on Interstate 70. I got to Salina, and by time I made a stop at Dillon’s on Ohio Street–a place I went twice yesterday–my dad texted me that the power was back on. I drove to Abilene, 40 kilometers (25 miles) east, to kill some more time before getting word it was safe to return to Russell.
At least the outage occurred on a Thursday when I didn’t have work to worry about. Had it been on a Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, I would have been really screwed.
I would have been even more outraged had the power stayed off longer. I bought a lot of frozen food yesterday in Salina and Wichita. I didn’t want it to spoil. The worst would have been losing 0.91 kg (2 lb) of capicola ($31) and two six-packs of natural casing weiners ($14) from Whole Foods.
I’m about to go to bed. I want to be able to sleep for a long, long time this morning. Nothing coming on I really need to watch on TV until 0630 tomorrow, when Premier League leader Liverpool plays at Leicester City.