It’s Friday, which means another week has managed to slip by like the sands of the hourglass (yes, these are the days of our lives). This is one of those anomalies of temporal mechanics that defies explanation. How can each day go by so slowly, yet the weeks, months – years – fly by in an ever-dizzying blur (even granted the extreme acceleration that occurs between, say 5:00 on Friday and 8:00 Monday morning)? Just another one of life’s mysteries, I guess, like how come while I can’t stay awake, I can’t sleep, either, why does the f*cking SyFy Channel cancel shows like Stargate: Universe and Caprica, yet air Professional Wrestling on Friday nights (don’t get me started on them changing the name from SciFi – which makes sense – to “SyFy” – which is meaningless gibberish, which would be a redundant phrase if it weren’t for “speaking in tongues” which the Kristian Kuckoos – good riddance to them tomorrow, by the way; maybe we can buy beer on Sunday mornings now – would have you believe is meaningful gibberish), and how do you get the job of being famous for being famous, like Charo, Paris Hilton, and Kim Kardashian?

Speaking of Charo, I figured she had to be about 80, but it turns out she was born in 1951. Go figure. I mean, her schtick was older than hell when I was a kid, and she musta been like 15 when she married Xavier Cugat, who I also never really got, though he looked kinda like Willard Waterman, who of course looked – and sounded – a lot like Harold Peary, and didn’t he have something or other to do with Carmen Miranda – Cugat, not Peary – and why did the Supreme Court decide that we needed to be warned about her, anyway? Was it the fruit basket on the head?

Anyhow, I started out my day with a good deed, so hopefully that will bode well for the weekend. I rescued a rather large and unhappy-looking toad from the skimmer basket. This was after pulling out three not-so-lucky creatures last night (I may have to start looking up some recipes for these things). I say creatures, because I can only positively identify one as being a little froggie (not that I was of a mind to look too closely). The other two, well, I’ll have to go with some sort of lizard-shaped things.

Salamanders, Northern Coal Skinks, Northern Fence Lizards?

Beats me – I’m no herpetologist.

One was pretty large (probably upwards of six-seven inches from the tip of his nose to the stub of his broken-off tail), the other small. Perhaps dad and junior out for a swim? Or maybe they were gonna try to sell me car insurance; let that be a lesson to any prospective agents. As I said, I wasn’t looking too close, and just dumped them outside the fence for Gollum to have for dinner.

At this rate, it may very well be that only reptiles and amphibians (and, soon, June Bugs) will be doing any swimming in our pool this season.

But at least we can sit around and stare at the water without those annoying Kristians constantly baptizing themselves all over the place.

I have to go do something today that I really don’t want to do. Besides go to work, that is. I have to go attend a dog and pony show for some award bullshit, which means I have to wear a jacket (not a tie, though; I refuse to wear a tie – they’re sexist). They don’t even have the decency to hold it in the morning and then let me take the rest of the day off. Instead it’s at the end of the day, and I’ll wind up not getting home ’til damn near bedtime. And there’s not even any money involved (maybe a shitty pen or a coffee mug – because 5,423 coffee mugs aren’t enough, and I can always use another one to hold all the shitty pens I have – and some finger food, which I really don’t want; I’m not very food-motivated). When I worked at SU, I got some stupid ceramic sculpture thing that looks kinda like a dildo with one boob. Still trying to figure out what to do with that little gem.

I really should have followed my instincts and claimed a prior commitment, but it was rather strongly intimated to me that it wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do, career-wise. Not that my “career” has exactly been one smart move after (mostly, it’s been filled with “oh, I really want to do that for a living,” followed by “this sucks!”).

I really despise this sort of thing, and I wouldn’t bitch to you all about it, but I have nobody else to bitch to, because the people who know me best think I’m just being stupid and annoying (yet they are apparently unable to check their tires and add air if needed, let alone oil). Not that I’m ungrateful, mind you. I’ve just always hated drawing attention to myself (which is how I stayed out of trouble through school – I mostly got my friends in trouble, while going unnoticed myself).

Oh well, time to get going, I guess.

Yesterday was school budget day, and the budget where I live passed. Not that I voted. I suppose I should have, but, well, I should have done a lot things in my life. In our school district, this year’s proposed budget was actually lower than last year’s (partly due to a capital building project last year that didn’t exist this year, and also due to the reduction of 21.7 FTEs – 14 of those layoffs of peons; don’t worry, as far as I know, no upper mucky-mucks were harmed in the creation of this budget).

Thanks to Governor Snotball’s (or Mario Junior, as I like to think of him – or as I’d like to think of him, but I can’t ‘cuz he aint one tenth the man his dad is) slashing of State aid to schools, though, my property taxes are going up by 3.9%. This, as you may recall, is so that Andy’s buddies on Wall Street can keep all their tax cuts.

Folks in the district also approved the purchase of three new short school buses and a van. Personally, I say let the little bastards darlings walk, but you know, if you don’t vote you can’t bitch, right?

I should probably say something like, “speaking of little bastards…” and then mention Arnold Schwarzenegger, but I’m pretty tired of the whole story already (though I did kinda get a chuckle out of the clips of Maria on some talk show or another back in the past saying that she wasn’t “bred to ignore” her hubbie’s affairs; I mean, duh, it’s not the Kennedy genes that ignore the affairs – in fact, I would bet they’re extraordinarily attuned to affair detection, based on the Darwinian genetic principle of ‘it takes one to know one’).

“Maria, it vas ten yeeerz uhgo, voor chrizzakez. I zed I vas sorry – vhat more do chu vant? Und vhy don’tchu haff eh zandvich oor zomething? Yoo’uhr tooo zkinny.”

It’s back to the Mac this morning, and so far the trackpad hasn’t gone insane. I hope it stays that way, as I really do prefer it to the Dell Inspiron. Not the OS part (don’t really find them much different in that respect), but while they both have the same size screen, more or less, the Mac has a much larger keyboard, so it’s a lot easier to type on (gives it a bigger footprint, but that’s OK). The keyboard is also backlit, which I like (being somewhat of a hunter and, dare I say, pecker), and when the trackpad isn’t AFU, it’s nice because it’s a lot bigger (though I found drivers for the Dell trackpad to make it work like the Mac one – gestures, two, three, and four finger tap options, etc.).

Well, time to warm up the rest of yesterday’s coffee, and to get a fresh pot going.

I haven’t fired up the MacBook Pro in quite a while (since the trackpad went nuts for the second time), so I thought I’d fire it up and see if it magically healed itself. Naturally, there were massive software updates to install (Windows has nothing on Windows when it comes to updates these days), and as usual I told it to not bother with iTunes, ‘cuz I think iTunes sucks and I want nothing to do with it. While the updates are installing and the thing is rebooting (again, Windows has nothing on Apple when it comes t requiring a reboot), I thought I’d see about uninstalling iTunes once and for all.

Oy. Lots of steps. Nothing difficult, of course, but, geez, not the simple process that it ought to be. If the trackpad isn’t still insane, I’ll have to see if I have time to get rid of it.

It’s the last half of May, which of course means it’s lacrosse playoff time. The local Community College won their third straight JUCO National Championship yesterday, and top seed Syracuse overcame the shame of losing in the first round last year by beating Siena in the Division I opening round. So, for now, things are right with the world. If everything goes as planned, it’ll be Syracuse vs. #2 Cornell in the finals on Memorial Day.

Speaking of Memorial Day, I’m actually optimistic that we’ll be able to see the bottom of our pool by then. The water is actually the right color now, but it’s very cloudy. So we’ll see what a few days of running the filter (at about $2.40 a day, not that I’m counting) will do.

I know the black flies and mosquitoes must be anxious to see us get this up and running, because they seem really hungry, and can’t wait to get a shot at some exposed skin. Not that we’ll be exposing much for the next few days, as it’s turned rather cool. Yesterday it rained all day long, and it looks like it’s gonna be a rainy kinda week.

Once the water clears up, I have to try and get the part of the liner that’s off the track (or whatever you call it) stuffed back in. From what I hear, the best bet is to heat it with a blow dryer so you can get it to stretch. That’s cool, ‘cuz I’ve always wanted to try dropping a blow dryer into a swimming pool.

Oh well, time to get going. I’m going in to work early today so I can leave early.

There’s something very strange about getting up in the morning and having the house be 70 degrees. In fact, at 4AM, it was still 63 degrees outside, which means it was about as warm as I was used to it being inside all winter. It has been a truly glorious week here, weather-wise. Of course, what with it being Friday and all, it’s time for that to end, and it looks like a wet (and cooler) trend is on the way. Oh well, that will give us time to see if the big vat of pea soup in the back yard can be turned into something to not be terrified of falling into. Thanks to Granny making a trip to the pool store yesterday, I was able to dump some chemicals in there in the evening, and I ran the pump all night (filter was pretty plugged when I got up). I have my doubts that it will ever get clean, but we shall see. I’d hate to have to dump the water out and fill it back up again. Oh, it’s a hard, hard life when you can’t afford a pool girl.

The price of a share of Polygrip® soared yesterday on news that Newt Gingrich had tossed his teeth into the ring for the Republican nomination. After the success of John McCain last time around, it’s clear that the Republicans need another candidate to appeal to their miserable, crazy old man constituency. Now it’s to identify a stupid pretentious bimbo to run for the #2 spot. Michele Bachmann, get ready. Play your cards right, and you could parlay this into an appearance on Dancing with the Stars.

Pulled the cover off the pool last night and managed to get the pump and filter hooked up and running. It hasn’t been opened in, oh, probably at least a couple of years. Looks a lot like pea soup in there. There are parts missing, things that the previous owners tossed out or misplaced, the liner is out of the track in one corner, and no doubt a few other things that will need attention.

I hate to complain about it (I mean, how absolutely disgusting to bitch about having a pool when there are so many people with real problems), but it’s not something I really coveted. It just happened to come with the house (which came with the land and the location, which is what I really wanted). But there will be a handful of days where it will be nice to come home and cool off. And the dogs will like it, so that’s worth it right there, plus if it means I can keep from turning the a/c on most days, that will offset some of the cost.

Today would probably a good day to swim (if the water wasn’t pea green and colder than hell). It’s supposed to be sunny and 80 degrees, and it would be awfully nice to be able to spend the day outside. But that aint gonna happen.

If you’re looking for a safe way to spend this Friday the 13th, you might want to consider heading over to the Oomegang Brewery in Cooperstown for the Anti-Fracking Benefit. Not only can you stop at the Baseball Hall of Fame and see the new Steroid exhibit (featuring Barry Bonds’ injection paraphernalia and a life-sized replica of his ass that the kids can practice jabbing with a needle), but you can support a good cause at the brewery and be treated to concerts by Arlo Guthrie and the Levon Helm Band. And maybe you can buy a few bottles of cave-aged Three Philosophers Ale. Assuming you like a nice Belgian. Unfortunately, it all starts at 4PM, I have to work, it would take me a couple hours to get there, I don’t really have the money for the donation, and I rarely partake of the devil’s brew these days (still got one bottle of Casazilla left over from New Year’s Eve – longest-lasting five beers of my 35 or so years of beer-drinking history). But if you go, tell me how it was.

Too tired to insult the states of Arizona and Texas today, and what with the South being flooded, I guess I should leave them alone, too. Things are drying up around here a bit, with the sump pumps running a mere 5 times an hour. Before you know it, the sump pond will be all dried out (which will give me a chance to dig it out a little deeper). Looks like the farmer dude managed to plow at least part of the cornfield yesterday, which is good news for the cows. Yesterday was a beautiful day, and today is supposed to be even better. Seems a shame to spend it locked inside a windowless office. At least I can spend my day trying to glean information on the Royal Honeymoon, and relive the good old days by watching the Osama home movies. Hopefully (unlike yesterday) I can also get away from my desk for a few minutes to get some fresh air. Before you know it, it’ll be so hot that I won’t wanna leave the a/c. I suppose I ought to think about getting the pool open. Assuming all the shit works. I have no idea when it was last in use, and am not really sure what I need to do. Hopefully just open the valves and run the pump (and dump whole lot of chemicals into it, which I don’t really want to do, but converting it to a saline system just aint in the cards this year). Oh well, time to go seize the day.

When I heard that Arizona was looking for donations to build a border fence, I was all set to cash in my CD, sell the dogs, and do whatever I could to support the effort. I figured if that worked, we could get to work on Texas. But then I read the fine print, and it turns out they wanna put the fence on the wrong side of the state. For some reason, they want to keep Arizonans out of Mexico. Like Mexico doesn’t already have it pretty cushy, with their cheap drugs, free Tequila, and drunk American college kid tourist trade, now they want me to pay to keep it free from the scourge of desiccated, melanotic, melanoma-pocked husks of Arizona’s old, un-dead population (no offense, KP, wherever you are)? I don’t think so. Next thing you know, you’ll want me to donate to keep Floridians out of Cuba or something (come on back when we get universal health care, Raúl).

Speaking of Arizona, we’ve headed into a bit of an arid stretch up here. Not only was it a warm sunny weekend, but the forecast appears to be free of rain at least until Friday. It sure would be nice if things would dry out a bit to give the sump pumps a break, and I’m sure the farmer next door would really like to get his field plowed. It would also be nice if the black fly and mosquito breeding grounds would dry up.

Well, I guess I can’t put off thinking about going to work much longer.