Crazy (Not Sexy or Cool)

I want to ask you a question if I may. Why do all of the crazies in this town gravitate toward me? Is there something about me that acts as a magnet for nuttiness? Now, sure my family is wacko, but why do I constantly encounter crazy people? I'm like a freak beacon lately.

For instance, this morning I had to stop and get gas at ARCO. Now normally, I wouldn't stop at this station because of the inferior gas they offer. However, my gas tank was emptier than my stomach...and it was 5:30AM. Not many gas outlets are available at this time of the morning. And why the hell aren't allgas stations 24 hours?

Anybody who knows me knows that I am not a morning person. Far from it. Random strangers think I smoke pot, co-workers think I'm an asshole. It's the time when my lazy eye is at its laziest. I try to avoid people during this time of day. It's one of the few times I can be by myself and gather my thoughts. I don't want to talk to you AT ALL.

So as I stroll into the AM/PM to pay for my gas, I stop at the drink case and grab an energy drink that I desperately need. The new Monster Rehab. It's an Arnold Palmer in Monster form. I've been on a lemonade/iced tea kick this year for some reason. Nevertheless, I approached the counter and stood behind a woman who seemed to be having an argument with the Arab gentleman working the register.

I'm a pretty observant person when I'm out and about. Even in my altered state of awakeness, I could tell this fuckin' twat was giving this guy shit. He was trying to help her, there's no doubt. Why would the guy NOT want to get her in and out of that place? Yeah, he's purposely trying to piss off the crazy chick. That's how he wants his day to go.

At this point, I've already reached my maximum annoyance level. I'm about twelve seconds away from screaming at this lady. After (I think his name was Saveen) ran her EBT card twice, and both times it came back declined (for one reason or another; she stole it, spent it...use your imagination). Then she starts laying into poor Saveen (sounds like a made up name and he should be working at Saveen-Elaveen) because she has no money. She's raising all kinds of hell in the place. She claims that he's discriminating against her (because she's white?) and that she wants his supervisor's name and he can't do his job right.

He finally agrees to run it a third time and as he does it, this bitch turns to me in the middle of one of her rants and says, "This guy (referring to me) knows what you're (Saveen) doing to me. He'll (me) tell y-"

...And that's when I just had to interject. I didn't choose my words wisely. My filter was removed. I lacked decorum. I just said what I thought. "I don't fucking care lady. I really don't. Hurry the fuck up." She appeared puzzled. I was slightly concerned. My neighborhood isn't the greatest. It's not uncommon for people to be shot around these parts. After accepting the fact that I wasn't going to side with her, she turned back to Saveen, who also seemed surprised at my response, and continued with, "I EARNED this money and you won't help me."

...

My mind was sufficiently and effectively blown. I almost spoke up again. My filter returned. My words were muted. Shit.

If I had said something, it'd probably have sounded something like, "Are you fucking insane? YOU earn the money for that card? Really? Do you know why I'm half-awake right now? Because I have to go to the job that pays for that card. So, in effect you lazy twat, I earned the money for that. Money that you've obviously blown on L&M lights and wine coolers. Now take you're broke ass out to your fucking car and get out of my way, so I can continue to fund your drug habit."

Saveen finally ended it all by writing down his supervisor's name and phone number. She got into her pieced together Geo Metro and left. Her car was an interesting side note to the whole experience. The body was obviously pieced together with parts from fellow Geos that are in car heaven.

She probably wasn't going to call the supervisor. She just wanted to raise a stink so that maybe he would cave and let her have free gas. I will never understand the mind of a crazy person. My brain can't decode their irrationalities. Maybe I'll just start using the tactic described above. It just might keep my brain from overheating.

We Were Marshall

June 14th marks the final day in the 51-year history for the Minutemen and Minutemaids of John Marshall High School. The Class of 2011 will be the final class that graduates from MHS. It's amazing that my high school won't exist anymore. That makes me feel really old. Sometimes, I'll run across people who say they went to Washington High School (another Portland high school that closed in 1981) and they're old as shit. Now I've been inducted into the "old ass dude who's high school doesn't exist anymore Hall of Fame."

Of course they couldn't close Jefferson High School because the students there are predominantly black and it would be another case of "white-ass Portland" hating on anybody who isn't white. You can't close Roosevelt for one reason or another (they're building is prettier). You can throw the book at Marshall, whose reputation as a school for gang bangers has only worsened since I left the halls for good in 2002. Also, who cares if we close a school down whose attendance numbers have dwindled every year for the past two decades?

Turns out that some people DO care about what happens to Marshall. But by the time they organized enough to do something about it, the school board had already put its plan in motion. We didn't have enough supporters to change the mind of the powers that be. It's really sad that I won't be able to take my kids there and tell them that this is where Dad went to school. This is where I used to play basketball at lunch. This is where that guy got shot in the cafeteria when your Aunt went here. This is where that guy got stabbed and ran to the health clinic that used to be right there. Isn't that what happens at every school?

The students don't really seem to give two shits about school now. They aren't going to class because what's the point? They're going to have all new teachers next year who won't know if they went to class or not. Brand new beginnings for these kids. Many kids have transferred out to the school they would attend next year to get a head start on making friends and learning the lay of the land. It's gotten so pathetic at Marshall that the teachers are rewarding students for coming to class on time for three weeks in a row.

So now what to do with the building? Probably nothing. Although my sister has other ideas (harassing McMenamins) and nearly no capital to do it herself. Maybe she'll write a blog post on it someday. It just seems like a waste to just let the building sit there behind a movie theater and shopping centers and let it waste away just like Washington High School. Although WHS was used to house people who left New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. So we'll wait for the next terrible natural disaster and open MHS to the stranded masses.

There will be a Tribute to Marshall on June 4th at noon. I can't go because it's my wife's birthday and I'll be working half of the day. Maybe Victory Lane will go and report. Probably not.

I'd leave you with the fight song, but to be honest, I don't know it and I'm not sure anybody else does either.

The Kid

My son turned 21 months old today. I always used to hate it when I'd ask a person how old their kid was and they'd say, "22 months." Now I have to take a second to do math and figure out how old your bastard child is. I now realize that if I told you my kid was one years old, you'd think he was a giant. My kid IS a giant, but every time someone asks me his age, I start with, "he's almost 2" and then submit the painful "21 months." I also realize that this will end once he turns two. There's no way that I'll say my son is 58 months old. See because now you still don't know how old he is (4 years, 10 months) and I sound like a pretentious dickhole.

He is growing everyday and after spending two days at home, I'm sometimes ready to go back to work. He's loud, obnoxious, sweaty, crazy, stubborn, adorable and bipolar all at the same time. He likes to headbutt, attack the cat, smack faces, fist bump, and give you a high-five all at once.

He's quick with a "what's that" but can't say much else. If you tell him no, he'll headbutt the couch or ground. Take something away from him and he'll scream his face off and hold his breath until he turns purple. His new hobby is to shove his hand down his throat and puke all over the place. He's aiming to be the poster child for toddler bulimia.

He's knows a lot more than he lets on at times. He understands what we say, he just has other ideas about what should happen at any given moment. Selective hearing is an understatement with this kid. I imagine this is what most kids are like at his age (21 months....or a year and 9 months...whatever).

I know that all kids are "beautiful" but there are some really ugly kids out there. If we go out in public and somebody doesn't tell me how handsome he is, that will be the first time.

My kid is a lot of things but there isn't one thing I would change about him. He is perfect in my eyes and hopefully my wife and I are doing right by him and raise him to be a responsible young man who will raise a family of his own someday.