Wake Me Up When September Ends in General

In the little mini-movie, the girl is Evan Rachel Wood. Beautiful girl, no doubt. She played/plays (I don’t watch it anymore so I don’t know if she is still a character) one of the androids in “West World.” The first season was a bit hard to watch because they just kept replaying her death and rebuild.

Another one of the ubiquitous storylines where the machines achieve consciousness.

Then Evan Rachel Wood has to come out and declare to the world she is “non-binary.”

For the love of God, shut up and be pretty. So tired of non-stop identity politics bullshit from Hollywood.

Last month I bought a steak fajita kit from Wallyworld. God knows I stocked enough of them in the store in three months. On a whim I bought one and stuck in the freezer.

Pulled it out on Tuesday (Taco Tuesday) and cooked it up.

Pretty good. Now I wish I had read the ingredients listing before throwing the bag away.

When I make fajitas (playing fast and loose here, because technically, fajitas are always steak, skirt or flank) chicken, pork or shrimp, the problem I always have is the amount of liquid the vegetables release.

Didn’t have that problem with the kit, which makes me think there was something in that kit to absorb moisture. Silica or cornstarch or some shit.

Did my “big buy” as it is payday. Forgot paper towels.

Two bags at 120 bucks. Even at Wallyworld, prices are ridiculous.

I’ve been getting emails from Orange Circuit Fitness. The facility used to be Planet Fitness, but they sold everything including the list of members. I quit before my heart surgery two years ago. One, because I wasn’t going to be working out. And Two, they were using my debit card like some kind of slush fund.

Apparently in whatever contract I agreed to, they were allowed to spread “improvement” costs among members. One month I was charged almost $400.

I stormed in there with my bank statement. They pointed out the line in the contract about “improvements.”

I was just mad enough I would have shot across the street to my bank and cancelled my debit card, refuted the charges.

But you pick your battles, and I did indeed sign that contract. So. Fuck.

In my running around on “utility day 1” a term I used when I was on my first shore tour. Come home on Friday afternoon and get everything done so I could have a weekend. Utility day 2, being Saturday is the catch the shit that didn’t get done on Utility Day 1.

So in my running around, going to the bank, Hannaford’s for lemons. I swung by OCF. 1600, 4pm. Prime after work workout time. There were all of four people working out.

The girl behind the counter, the new assistant manager was on her third day, reading a paperback.

I asked for the tour. She looked confused. “Can you show me around.”

She said I was welcome to wander around and take a look. Just before I sauntered off I asked if I could pay by check.

She wasn’t sure so was going to call her boss while I looked around.

I looked around.

A lot of machines, and a LOT of free weights. All the typical gym stuff. Quite a lot of powerlifting stuff.

I’m figuring to start on machines until my body gets used to working again, then switch back to free weights.

There was a leg press, similar to the one in 1983 where I pressed #1000. Not likely to do that again in this lifetime. But it would be a fun challenge.

I’m figuring weight circuit in the morning before work, then aerobic workout after work.

They have a machine called “Jacob’s Ladder” which is basically an unending, variable slope ladder.

I looked at it and said out loud: “You could be my best friend and most vile enemy at the same time!”

Back to the desk.

Because the girl had finally gotten off the phone.

The email flier I had been getting said $299 a year.

“Good news. Because I’m not trained, you get a year for $147.”

God is smiling on me.

I wrote a check. So no slush fund. Plus I didn’t sign anything. But I have a scannable keychain barcode.

Whoot. In for back and chest machines at 0700 tomorrow.

I called HR. Offer is still in the works, and again I am told I should hear something “next week.”

“Chris will probably email you then follow up with a phone call.”

Another week of sitting by the phone. At least I know he won’t be calling at 5am or 4pm. So I am cleared in hot on the weights.

September has six more hours. The gears are turning in my head.

I’m smiling, and really missing just one thing in my life.