3.21.97

Phone Booth In Midvale

I finally broke down and spit out $10 bucks so I can call Kerrie. She lives in Logan, which she believes to be a better place to raise her son for various reasons, but she's not home. There is a long distance block on my phone because I refused to pay the demanded deposit. In order to call Logan, which is in-state long distance, I need a phone card.
I've forgotten to get one, 'till now. Kerrie actually gave me one before, but I used half of it to call my parents.. I know, I suck. I'm also learning that she deserves much better than that.

I've had a shit day.

I actually spent $60 at a local rental agency and was provided with a list of approx. 1500 available units. Exactly 4 of them allowed dogs. They all cost over $700 a month, and three of them considered "CARPET!" to be an incentive. The fourth seemed almost promising. I figured they allowed dogs because of all the gangs I saw that lived across the street -- home security and all -- but when I told the landlord my dog is Rottwieler, he damn near laughed in my face. Guess security is not high on the slumlord priority these days.

Yeah, I'm fucked.

I will not give this dog up. I would sooner give up my left arm and my right testicle (hell, maybe both, might keep me outta trouble). I called the Humane Society asking if they had any program available that placed owners in dog friendly rental units. Their response equated to a guttural "Huh?'

Yeah, guys, save all those animal lives, find them good loving homes, only to put them to sleep later when their owners can't find one of those 0.0009% pet-friendly vacancies.

So, Kerrie doesn't answer. The disappointment I feel as the phone continues to ring surprises me a bit. I wanted to talk to her. More, I wanted to see her. When I got home, she called moments later. I will not be seeing her this week, she tells me. She will be busy. She wants me to come see her. I would actually like to visit that small upstate town. Odd that it's more difficult to find a baby-sitter for my dog than it is for her to find one for her son.

I checked the mail this afternoon (which I do only every couple of days) and got a cutoff warning from the gas company. See, the house I live in has no insulation and no heat upstairs. It costs about $200+ to heat this bitch every month. Or, should I say, to heat the first floor. We use space heaters in our rooms. The gas bill is in my name, and about 3 weeks ago one of the two roommates gives me $70 for his part of the last couple of months. This is the same guy that was busted for welfare fraud a year ago and now has even less money than he did before (I think he's an illegal alien, too.... haven't figured that out yet). But, trying to talk to the second roommate as little as possible, I failed to collect his part and, also not anxious to make an excruciating trip to the bank, I had ignored said bill.
Today's notice arrives. Ok. Time to pay. I figure I'll get the first roomie's $70, take my own cash and pay it off and deal with roomie #2 later.

The $70 was given to me as a 50 and a 20. I tucked it away in the Camel matches tin directly above my computer, with the corner of the 50 sticking up to remind me to go pay the thing. It is now gone. I did not touch it. I did not move it. Rollins did not climb on top of my computer center and eat it. It was taken.

Fuck.

All the more reason why this eviction could be a good thing. Assuming I can find somewhere else, that is.

Fuck again.

I was slammed at work tonight. Finals just got out here, and that always drags out the stupid drunks trying to kick off spring break. One guy left a quarter tip on a $10 tab. "Hey buddy, you forgot your change!" I said as he walked away. There were also about half a dozen Californians there who, as usual, told me that they're from, and I'm quoting, no shit, "A much cooler state than this." Fuck you, buddy. If that place was so cool, I'd live there. "You know why I hate California?" I finally asked one. "Cause people like you live there." One guy bitched all night about how weak the drinks are here in Utah, and promptly threw up in a glass after one of my shots. Fuck you too.

Wow, my bitterness seems to be resorting to anger. Gotta watch that.

Chris shows up at the bar just as we close. He's been driving all day and he wants to drink. We come back here and get drunk and stupid enough to break out his credit card and buy a web porno site that broadcasts XXX videos 24/7. We're giggling at the fat chick with the huge tits who's gettin' it up the wazoo when I find myself disconnecting the modem and about to dial up Kerrie.

Chris understands this is not a hormonal thing.

"Shannon was a fire in ya man," he says. "Looks like Kerrie might be the slow burn."

I thought it wise at the time. Now, after thought, I wonder if slow burns inflict the most damage to the skin.

wwood