My hell ride back from across the state and other random cliffnotes

Sigh.  Ok, Jen – you win.  You beat me into submission, so I’ll go ahead and fill you in on the relative non-excitement going on around these parts.

 

So, I finally have the Jeep back and under my name.  It’s fixed, and both windows open AND close, which is very handy in western PA during the winter.  However, the Honda is back in the shop for something that I forgot about.  Seems that the threading in the oil pan got worn down, and it was given a temporary fix by a mechanic by fitting it with an over-sized oil plug.  The wal-mart guys won’t even touch it to change the oil, so I had to get someone to put a new oil pan on it.  That was about a week ago, and I still haven’t heard from the guy…

Luckily, the Jeep was able to take me on a less-than 4 hour drive.  I stayed out there for 2 nights – I could tell the trip was going to be weird from the start, though.  I’m not usually big on signs, but I did a double-take when I saw a cloud in the sky.  I swear, it looked exactly like God was giving me the finger.  It was a big cloudy lump, with a white pillar sticking straight up from the middle.  It looked just like a white fist with one finger sticking out.  The drive out still wasn’t too bad, even with the random trucker at a rest stop checkout line.  He graciously let me in front of him as he had no idea what he wanted yet.  I got my purchases (cough drops/gum) and turned to nod my thanks again, just to see him shaving.  In the middle of a turnpike rest stop.  While in line to get food.  Yuck.

After I finally got to my destination, I had a good time, though.  I actually went to a bar that was having a poker tournament, so I got signed up.  First 4 places got paid and about 50-60 people signed up.  I was mostly card-dead for mst of the tournament, and was seated with the most obnxious guy ever.  He was a greasy rednecked Ohio State fan, and loved to talk shit both about everyone’s play and their respective sports alliances.  I remained calm and smiled at him when he tried to talk shit about Penn State, then decided to raise on his blind for the next 2 hands in a row.  Unfortunately for him, he was gunning for me and called with worse hands. He gave me enough chips to double my short stack up, and I got moved soon after.  About 7 minutes later, he got moved to my new table and looked a bit surprised at my stack.  Before he got there, I had won about 3 hands in a row and was now one of the bigger stacks.  I outlasted him, since he was kinda pissed off and on tilt.  I eventually found my way to the final table and did well to keep my chips and even get a few new ones.  It got down to 5 people left, and I saw what I thought was the short stack on the big blind.  I figured since 2 people folded to me, I’d raise with pocket 5’s and put the guy in.  Even if he called and won, I’d have 2/3 of my stack left.  Besides, this guy was playing really tight so I doubted he’d even call.  Unforunately for me, he woke up with pocket queens.  Even worse, I apparently can’t count.  He turned out to have a lot more chips…exactly 100 more than me.  He called, I sighed, and busted on the bubble.  Oh well – I thought I did well.  Aside fromt he final table, I was amazed by just how badly some people play this game.  Live poker is SO much easier than online, for sure.

Besides the poker, I got to watch a Pens game at a different bar and took part in some trivia contest.  I ended up winning a gift certificate that I’m almost never going to actually use.  The guys running the contest wanted everyone to make up a team name for the contest.  I immediately came up with “Sexual Chocolate” but that got vetoed.  Fortunately, I had a back-up name: The Amish Armada.  The contest guy got a kick out of it, at least.

The rest of the trip was great, but the ride home was a bitch.  It took me about 7 hours to get home – almost twice what it took me to get there in the first place!  I got on the PA Turnpike and about 5 minutes later saw that there was a detour up ahead.  I turned the radio to the info channel and evidentally I was going to have to take the exit before the one I actually wanted.  I figured – no big deal.  I’d pull off at the next rest stop, read the map, and figure out the rest.  I got back in the car and exited the rest stop.  Big mistake.  Abotu 2 minutes later, I hit the traffic jam.  I guess I shoulda known that this detour would overload the alternate route and having that many cars all needing to exit just one exit was a bad combo.  I ended up stuck in the same spot for 10 minutes at a time, moving about 200 feet, then re-parking.  I started turning the car off between stops, and took the time to get out and wander around.  At one parking lot break, I even opened the back to get out a book and the laptop.  I figured I might as well have something to do while I waited.  It was kinda cool, though – people were milling around and it almost looked like a tailgate party. 

Unfortunately, all this waiting around and drinking my gatorade caused my to start feeling the need to take a piss.  Since I was in the middle of a highway surrounded by 3 lanes of stuck vehicles, there wasn’t any way I could really do this on the side of the road.  I tried to hold off as best I could, but I have my limits.  Finally, I saw that I had little choice – I was going to have to piss in a bottle.  I had an empty ice tea bottle with me that would do the trick.  Now, I just had to figure out how to pull this off without being obvious.  I went into the back of the jeep and got out my wind pants.  I figured they’d be easier to slip back on than my jeans.  I climbed back in, and tried to inconspicuously take off my pants.  I got my shoes off and worked the jeans off.  Luckily, it was getting dark so maybe people wouldn’t realize what was going on.  I sat there in my boxers/shirt/socks and opened the bottle.  I worked my junk through the peep hole and tried to figure out just how to do this.  I couldn’t really sit down and go since I’d be squirting upwards.  I’d have to turn around and aim down, yet this would look kinda suspicious.  Hm….

At that EXACT moment, the cars around me all turned on their engines.  FUCK.  This meant good news and bad news.  The good news is that we’re going to move forward again.  Bad news?  I’m half-naked with stuff flopped out in the open.  I shoved my extremities back in my boxers, and turned on the jeep.  This time, it wasn’t just a 200 foot drive.  We all kept going at about 30-40 MPH.  While this is normally nice progress compared to a parking lot, I was gritting my teeth.  I turned on the radio again and heard that the detour was lifted.  As we got closer to the alternate route, I saw that there was a ton of cars on it and it was bumper-to-bumper.  fuck that – I went ahead past and chanced it.  I finally made it to the next rest stop and pulled in.  The place was packed – probably all refugees from the traffic nightmare.  I pulled into a parking spot and hoped I’d be able to dress.  No luck – there was a car next to me and the people there were outside their car fucking around with something.  Every now and then, they’d glance over at the strange guy giving them dirty looks from the jeep and doing some sort of pee-pee dance.  Finally, I decided I didn’t care how obvious it was that I was half-naked, and shimmied till I could work my pants back on.  I slipped on shoes and finally made it to the bathroom.  Ahh…

I got back on the turnpike and got off my exit.  I saw a Burger King and felt like rewarding myself with a burger or 2.  I got in, ordered my food (I hate drive-through…I prefer to order inside), and got my empty drink cup.  There was an old guy in front of me – kinda skinny and seemed to be by himself.  I went to the other fountain and filled up my drink.  He then turned, saw me, and started talking:

“Heh heh you ever heh with beer, you know, uh when you get the bubbles heh?  They say you heh can stick your finger in there and heh make them pop you know. That true?”

“Uh…yeah.  That actually works.”

“Heh huh. *garbled*”

At this point, the old creepy guy started shambling towards me, finger outstretched, with his eyes on my coke.  I quickly realized that he was about to violate my drink with a digit that’s been God-knows-where.  Horrified, I mumbled something in response, and quickly turned back around to see if my food was there yet.  Have it your way, my ass.  I got my food, turned, and slipped past the dude.  As I walked out, I shook my head at the thought of this guy offering to put his finger in my coke.  I then stopped in mid-stride and wondered if that was a metaphor for something a bit worse.  “Can I put my finger in your coke” may not have been exactly what he was after.  Ew.  Seriously, though – wtf?

What else has gone on since my last entry?  The fall soccer season is over – we ended up with a winning season, even after losing 2 of my captains to injury before the season even started.  PT’s place is all cleaned out and DJ now lives there.  I was done to visit while getting the Jeep’s title transferred and it was a bit unsettling.   I’m glad DJ’s happy there, though.  He used to live there as PT’s roommate for a time, so it’s almost like the place is staying in the family. 

I’m sure there have been other things I could write about, but they either slipped my mind or aren’t important enough to discuss.  I just got done typing up a speech for tomorrow’s soccer banquet, so I’m kinda fried anyways.  The fact that I typed THIS much amazes me.  Anyhow – enough for now.  Does this work for you, Jen? <3

And the hits keep coming….

So I’m sitting here, donking it up in a cheap-o tourney, since I don’t trust myself not to go on mega-rage if I play higher and lose once or twice.  I’m now wearing a knee brace as a result of my game tonight.  Let me back up and go chronologically on this one.  I may be a bit distracted as I’m tired, in pain, and playing a game…bear with me.

So the same night I made my last post, I called PT up to see how he was.  He sounded ok, actually.  He told me exactly what all was going on, the outlook, and his chances as he understood it.  He said he was given about 80/20 on him getting through this ok.  The 20% was a matter of conversation on his part, and thought it would be best to explain to me what he wanted to happen if he didn’t make it.  Great.  I now know what type of service he wants, how his “remains” should be handled, and where his most valuable things are, and how to go about putting them in my possession.  Yeah, it’s nice to know he trusts me with this stuff over everyone else in the family, but it really wasn’t a fun talk.  I later told him we’d be down to see him, to give him a heads-up.

I didn’t get to sleep until late.  Or early, as the sun was peeking through while I was still staring at the ceiling.  I finally dozed off and woke up at around noon.  I felt like crap – I figured it was due to the late-night snack I had.  Apparently chili and donuts don’t mesh well – who knew?   I stumbled into the bathroom and realized I wasn’t doing so well.  Let’s just say things got a bit…explosive.  I soon felt nausea creeping in, and the “bubbleguts” weren’t going away.  I didn’t want to go back into bed, since it was too far from the bathroom, so I made do.  I ended up curled up in the fetal position on my shower bath mat, wearing only my boxers, and covered up with 2 beach towels.  I laid there shivering, and twitching for an hour or so, until my mom called.  I had thought to bring the phone in with me, as I knew she’d be calling.  We had planned on going in to visit PT.  I told her that I wasn’t doing so well, and asked her to give me an hour or so.  It felt like 10 minutes later, the phone rang again.  It was actually another hour, though.  I still felt like shit, and was still writhing in pain while trying not to spew anything from anywhere.   I told her I most likely couldn’t go, and she said she’d be over a bit later and still needed to tell my uncle Tommy what was going on.  As he can’t really handle bad news without becoming neurotic, it wasn’t something to be looked forward to.  I hung up, then proceeded to puke and shit my guts out.  I guess my nerves were so bad that I got pretty sick.  I was just pleased I managed not to puke and shit at the same time.  Lovely, huh?

I started to feel a bit better, but was still dizzy and not quite…right.  We ended up telling Tommy (handled it ok for him, but he was still trying to be “Mister Take-Charge” and took the opportunity to be “Mister I-Told-You-So” as well.  Standard.  I decided to accompany my mom, sister, and Tommy after all.  I felt obligated, and figured PT felt a lot worse than I did.  Plus, he’d probably feel bad if he knew his situation made me react the way I did.  PLUS, I wasn’t about to abandon him when he faced Tommy for the first time in years.  I sucked it up and went.

PT looked thinner.  He was a bigger guy and while his face still seemed full, his arms were definately smaller.  His stomach looked a bit enlarged, but that was most likely due to fluid that was accumulating.  He said the night before that the doctors/nurses had drained a TOTAL of 40 liters of fluid from his abdomen so far.  That can’t be good.  His hair was also REALLY long for him.  That, combined with his facial hair made for a strange combo. 

He was pleasant, complained about the food a bit, but seemed ok for the 3-4 hours we spent there.   His nurse was cute, so that was good.  We ended up leaving, and interrupted the hour+ drive back home to stop for food.  My stomach wasn’t having much fun, so I was only able to eat a salad.  When the menu has steak, I’m not paying, and I STILL only order a salad you KNOW I’m sick. 

That night, I got to be relatively early for me.  I ended up sleeping 15 hours straight.  Seriously.  I felt a bit better the next day, but I was still woozy.  Today, I felt better and went to my soccer game earlier tonight.  I think I’ve mentioned that the team I fill in for kinda sucks, but they were playing an equally sucky team with a horrible goals against stat.  I figured this was the game for me to figure out how to put the ball in the net.  Within the first 5 minutes, we were losing 4-0.  Amy’s hubbie was in goal, and while he is a nice enough guy, he’s not really a goalie.  He can’t play any other position, though, so if I go in – he sits.  I feel bad, so I usually just volunteer to play the field.  When I finally took a shift, I seemed to be doing pretty well, and soon assisted on Amy’s goal.  Later, I got the ball, drove into the attacking zone, flipped the ball past an over-committing defender, and rocketed a shot over the goalie’s shoulder.  It was awesome.  Later in the game, I scooped up a rebound, and slipped it in the goal with my left foot. 

 We were still down by 1 or 2 goals, though.  I had just taken the shift where I scored leftie, and was having trouble getting my breath.  Someone asked me why I was so pale, and I tried to explain that I had been pretty sick just 2 days beforehand.  I told a few of the players that since we had 6-7 minutes left, I might be ready by the time we only had 2 minutes left to play if nobody else was ready to go.  I really wish I had just taken a walk or something, though.  With 3 minutes left, someone came off the field and Amy and a few others all looked at me and said, “You go!”  I guess I’d try, so I went out to even the score.  I had a chance or 2, and tried to chip one over the goalie’s head.  I hit him in the face instead, so the ball bounced high and over my head.  Since the arc was high, it landed nearby, and I now had my back to the goalie with a high bouncing ball in front of me.  I wildly thought about attempting a bicycle kick, but that was quickly dismissed as I didn’t feel like breaking my already-sucky back.   I’m not sure exactly what I tried to do – I think I tried to pop it in the air, spin around, scoop it past him…or something.  I ended up trying to turn and I heard my knee make a soft ”pop!”  The world flashed white, and I hit the ground face-first.  I was good, though – I didn’t yell, scream, or shout profanity.  I probably had a nice grimace going, and I writhed around on my stomach a bit.  Somehow, the clock buzzed, and I realized that that must have been the quickest minute and a half EVER.  I tried to get up, and ended up crawling towards the bench area.  I realized that looked really wussy, so I stood up slowly.  I could tell my knee wasn’t quite right, so I ended up hopping off the field.  I obviously forgot about doing the post-game hand shake, and sat on the bench with my head on the boards.  I kept thinking that there was no way I was going to pay a few hundred bucks to have a  doctor tell me it just needs time to heal again, as they did with my ankle.  As I sat there, I started to get queasy.  I’m not sure if it was the shock of the injury, or me running around too much.  Either way, I stumbled to my feet, asked someone to watch my stuff, and limped off to the bathroom.  I almost fell over at one point, but grabbed a wall to keep going forward.  I composed myself as much as possible and tried to test out the knee while nobody was around.  It holds my weight, and I can even raise and lower my body on one leg.  Thing is, it gets weak when I straighten it.  I can feel a little pain when I shift weight side to side on my knee on the left side of it.  I have no idea what all this means.

I ended up getting an ice pack and telling those guys there’s no way I’d be able to play on Thursday.  They seemed surprised by that.  I guess they thought I was kidding when I said I heard a pop.  I walked around Wal*Mart a bit with the ice pack wrapped in a tube sock and tied to my knee.  It wasn’t pleasant.  I really don’t know if I can play Friday or not.  I’ll just wear the fucking brace and hope.  Maybe I can get by in goal.  It just blows, because everytime I start playing well on the field – I get hurt.  Then it takes me a while to get healthy…or at least close.  Then it takes me a while to remember how to play again, and good enough to the point where I know how to score and dribble again.  Then I have a good game for me….and get injured.  This is the 3rd time for this cycle to go on, now.  The last time, I had scored 5 goals in 20 minutes before messing up my ankle.  Tonight, I had 2 goals, 2 assists, and was pushing for the hat trick.  It’s beyond frustrating.  In the meantime, I’ve since busted out of that cheap tourney.  I ended up mildly berating someone for bluffing a dry side pot (poker talk) and shoving all my chips in on his big blind with KJ suited.  Of course, I ran into pocket aces, and off I went.  I usually don’t steam like that, let alone seriously berate someone.  I’ve since jumped into a cheap Omaha tourney, and have even once picked on someone after they called all the way to the river to steal 1/4 of the pot from me.  This is why I’m not planning any serious poker for a while. 

I go see PT again tomorrow.   Should just be me, my sister, her daughter, and my mom.

This sounds like me last week…

 Let’s hope I can embed that video…

 Sweet – it works.  After coming back from my self-imposed ban, I decided to play an omaha h/l game versus players from  a message board that I used to belong to.  I figure I play that type of game more than most at that site, so I ought to do well.  I finished in 4th…top 3 get the money.  I guess I played ok, but I made a few mistakes coming down to the bubble.  I need to work on maintaining a stack into the money, instead of letting it slowly whittle away.  I was upset after the game, of course.  I never am happy right after busting out, but I think I handled it better than I would have a week ago.  Since then, I’ve played sparingly, and have done reasonably decent since. 

I’m STILL sore from playing soccer 2 days ago.  That was a big test for my ankle, and although it went pretty well, I can tell I’m rusty.  I jumped in goal to start the game and something wasn’t quite right.  Sure, I dove and hit the ground a few times, but my thighs were sore as hell right above the knees.  At one point, the ball came over my head and bounced off of a side wall.  I tried to back up and fell a bit.  I scrambled to get up, turn around and go after the ball…and fell.  For a period of 5 seconds, I felt drunk.  I couldn’t get my legs under me, and they wouldn’t listen to what I wanted them to do.  I have no idea what that was all about.  Luckily, I didn’t get scored on at that moment, although I let 2 goals go by total.  One I might’ve gotten if I hadn’t gone low too quickly, and one I had no chance on.  I came out, cut down the angle well, but that team was just too good and the guy buried one off of the inside post.

I played out on the field in the 2nd half and did ok.  I made a nice move around one of the defenders and got off a shot.  I don’t have much shot power, though, and my accuracy isn’t there yet, so the shot went a bit too slow and a bit too wide.  It’s a start.