A glimpse inside the mind of a wallflower
Tabba’s got her Sunday Morning Song of the Moment, and I’m *stealing her idea, at least for this post. Even though it’s not Sunday. And it’s almost not morning anymore.
Wanna see what six cups of coffee and no food do to phenom? He belts out the following song in a key that hasn’t been discovered yet.
“How to make an ice luge” comes up as a google search that links here. Awhile back I wrote about a party at a friend’s house that had, as my friends’ parties are apt to, an ice luge. Some elaborate ice luge designs can likely be found while Googling that bastion of sophomoric drinking processes, but my friends have found more importance in A) the securing of the ice luge so it doesn’t fall/collapse into 2) the drainage system of said ice luge.
Now, #2 is accomplished by a very sophisticated means of runoff containment using a space-age polymer, circular in shape with a dimensional depth measurable enough to contain the volume of a fully melted 12″x24″x36″ block of ice. An alternative use of this system can be seen in this file photo.
In A) a stand was constructed by a handyman friend of a friend. That’s all I got.
Making an ice luge, at least for us, is easy.
First, you call an ice company.
Second, you drive to the aforementioned ice company and pick up the ice.
Third, you take a router to the ice and create rivers in the ice, so to speak.
Fourth, pour alcohol.
Rinse, repeat.
Next Saturday, the ice luge will rear its ugly head yet again. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll partake in the festivities.
One of the benefits, as it were, of the company bleeding money is that they’ve recognized how much they can save by forcing us all to take a week’s vacation around the July 4th holiday. With an empty building they have an opportunity to perform any maintenance that is necessary on the facilities, upgrade any computer/storage items as needed, and do all sorts of other things that are virtually impossible to do with a building full of people.
I don’t work in an assembly plant, so I normally didn’t have this time off. At first, it seemed that we were being ripped off by being forced to take our vacation time during this week, but it really is a welcome break at an ideal time of year, especially this year, what with the economic state of the company.
Coincidentally, my iPod and laptop just reminded me of my regular 10AM Tuesday meeting. NOT THIS TIME, SUCKA!!
I’ve got several projects planned for this week, some borne of necessity, such as the gaping hole in the ceiling of my garage, and others of desire, such as the pulled pork experiment I plan on unleashing on the neighborhood Friday night, just prior to burning down the neighbor’s house with various flaming projectiles.
So far, I’ve done nothing. I went to Zingerman’s for lunch yesterday, and when I got back to the car, there was still 26 minutes left on the meter. I had Maggie the Dog with me, so I took her for a walk through downtown Ann Arbor, something I never would have done a month ago before she went off to a kind of doggie boot camp. She was great, and I’m still not convinced the breeder brought back our dog. I think he switched her for a calmer, quieter, listener of a dog.
Anyway, I’ve been sitting here at my computer for a good part of the morning, with New Orleans Jazz playing on Pandora, and it feels like Sunday. Yesterday felt like Sunday. The day before that was Sunday. I could get used to this, but it’s probably time I got some stuff done. Drywall doesn’t hang itself, you know! If only it did.
It’s been a stressful couple of years for me, professionally at least. I work for an automaker, as some of you may already know. It’s no secret that it is an industry that has not been kind to people for awhile now, and most unfortunate is the simple fact that new model production can in no way keep up with how fast gas prices have risen recently. Even worse than that, my skillset is not conducive to being outside of the automobile industry, short of moving to Hollywood and working 80 hours a week for low wage as a worker bee in some animation/CGI studio somewhere.
I learned my trade in a specialized school that focused on computer-aided industrial drafting and not much else. I was a cab driver that wanted to do more, and my mother-in-law lived next door to a guy who mentioned a need in the field I’m now in. In less than six months, I was modeling taillight cans for a show car to be introduced two weeks later.
Our organization has dwindled by nearly 40% in the past year and a half and tomorrow, we’re anticipating notification that the next round of cuts will happen before the end of the day. This, mind you, coming just two days before the July 4th week-long shutdown. We’ve already been told that more cuts will occur between July 4th and August 1st. I’ll be home next week doing things around the house, but others will be travelling for the week, be it to northern Michigan or to a nice, cozy beach somewhere to the south. How they’ll be able to enjoy that break is beyond me, really.
Personally, I feel I have less to be concerned about than many other people because my performance has always been rated highly and my salary and seniority would suggest that I might be a commodity, for lack of a better term. I’m not taking that for granted, however. I’m afraid of what will happen if I were to lose my job, but it’s something that I’ve been preparing for since probably December of 2005, when we were all informed two weeks before Christmas that there’s be drastic cuts in January of 2006. That, my friends, is the type of thing we deal with seemingly every major holiday.
It’s in the low 80s right now and the sun is out. iTunes is belting out Led Zeppelin’s Rock & Roll as I sit on the deck, my ass on one chair and my feet on another. There’s a Smithwick’s on the table next to me and the boys are playing on the swingset. There is no better way to deal with the stress I’m living with right now.
No better way.
During dinner…
Phenom: ”Hey, guys, after dinner you wanna go to Frosty Boy?”
Boys, almost in unison: ”No, not tonight.”
phenom and pgoodness then scrape their jaws off the floor.
I’ve started another blog somewhere. Where, you ask? I’ll tell you, but not publicly. 
I’m not leaving this place, but I needed somewhere a little more anonymous, where I could perhaps be a little more candid.
Fourth Cup in 11 years.
Who needs the Pistons, anyway?
As I left the house today, I felt that funny feeling when you know you’ve forgotten something, but just can’t place what it is. I had the iPod for the tunes, an apple for the road, and I skipped grabbing something for lunch on purpose. There’s no dog to let outside, it was late enough that no lights were left on, so I hopped in the car and drove off in search of Starbucks and the fine Pike Place Roast, with three shots of hazelnut (regular, not sugar-free, thank you).
By the way, I have a new-found… well, just found, I guess, since I never really had Starbucks before the New York trip… anyway, new-found love for Starbucks because the coffee I get here in the thriving metropolis that is Dearborn tastes just as good as that small-town New York stuff, if you can find it there, of course. 
Friday night was the monthly steak roast that a few of us go to. It’s a good time, as we drink, cook our own steaks on a gihugeous grill, and spew all sorts of bullshit that guys tend to do from time to time. Up until a couple years ago, we were also able to bring our shotguns and shoot trap as well, but some idiot got drunk and stupid and their insurance premiums went through the roof. Therefore, we’re not allowed to shoot anymore, and apparently drinking is way more important than shooting to the old fools who run the place, as they seemingly won’t even entertain the idea of banning the alcohol and allowing the guns instead. Based on the physiques most of these guys have, I can’t say I’m at all surprised.
I’m getting old myself, I’d say. We decided what we wanted to do was go to a bar where we could watch the Pistons (lose) and stay pretty low-key. We shot some pool, were ridiculed by the waitstaff for some light beer we ordered (started with an L, I think, and tasted exactly as she described - like water), and watched the Pistons lay an egg.
A sidenote - I tried a Heineken Light. It tasted like shit.
I recovered on Saturday, and Sunday got to break out the chainsaw. It was out of gas, but those things run on testosterone anyway, so I was good. :) The Shoo and I washed the car and the boys played in the water for about three hours before we all ended up in the house, exhausted and scrambling for dinner.
Today, as I left, I realized how long of a weekend it had been, as my ID badge seemed foreign and rather unnecessary. I grabbed it and my car key, my watch and my ring, my iPods and apple, and the newspaper as I backed out of the driveway. It got to be about 8:30 so I decided to make my morning call home to see how everything was and I reached for my phone.
It was then that I realized what I’d forgotten.
I found an old digital camera that I used to keep handy in my truck, which I traded in about a year ago on The Fast Car. Anyway, I was checking out the contents of that camera’s memory card, which was mostly of our trip to Chicago for a wedding a couple years ago. This one stood out most of all:
Thank God we were on the No Circus Animals Allowed floor.
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