It feels like there is a river of molten lava running under my right shoulder blade. Whenever I turn my head to the left, it feels like the lava is going to just fucking erupt right out of my back.
I swallow enough Aleve to give a horse liver damage, and the pain subsides a little. I'm going to downgrade the pain from "excruciating" to just plain "agonizing."
I realize that I can't go to a chiropractor, I've got a meeting today at noon at work with Margo and the steering committee of the Mystery Project. I call this guy Lisa goes to, Dr. Bobby, and make an appointment for 3 PM. I'm happy he's open.
The shower is agony. I try to wash my hair but the red hot stitch of pain in my shoulder nearly brings me to tears. The hydro-massage showerhead pounds away at my injured back uselessly. My skin is mostly bulletproof; pulsating showers don't really cut it.
I'm not sure what the dress code is, so I gingerly pull myself into a sports jacket and slacks and limp towards my car.
Note to self: never try to stop a twenty-story fall with one arm.
November 26, 2004
oh my fucking backk
my baCK IS F fucked up, ui'm serious. I'm typing thids with my lft hanf becaues I can't movr my fucking right arm. And my6 neck, i can't move my neck,
motherfuckuing jett pack nafia...
I gotyta call a chiropractor asap
Owww
motherfuckuing jett pack nafia...
I gotyta call a chiropractor asap
Owww
November 25, 2004
Thanksgiving blows
My Thanksgiving celebration consisted of General Tso's Chicken and Moo Shoo Pork, chased down with a few Tsingtao beers while watching the Turbos destroy the Angels, 41-9. Ouch.
Everybody's doing something for Thanksgiving that doesn't involve me. JC and his woman are at her folk's house, Mitch and Lisa are in Vermont, my brother's all the way over in New Avalon, and my mom is dead whereas I am not. So it's yet another solo Thanksgiving for me, which is fine because I'm a lone wolf, I'm a one-man army, I am a rock, I am an island.
I suck.
Fuck it, I'm going on patrol. Hopefully I get to beat the crap out of somebody tonight.
Everybody's doing something for Thanksgiving that doesn't involve me. JC and his woman are at her folk's house, Mitch and Lisa are in Vermont, my brother's all the way over in New Avalon, and my mom is dead whereas I am not. So it's yet another solo Thanksgiving for me, which is fine because I'm a lone wolf, I'm a one-man army, I am a rock, I am an island.
I suck.
Fuck it, I'm going on patrol. Hopefully I get to beat the crap out of somebody tonight.
November 24, 2004
I'm going to die alone
So I get a call from my brother – Serenity’s pregnant! This is good news because as you’ll recall they thought her womb was a rocky place where his seed could find no purchase. I offer hearty congratulations, and then my sister-in-law comes on the line. It’s like we’re best buds now. She’s very excited – giddy, really – and I don’t know, it’s kind of sweet.
“So you’ll have to thank Heidi for me, for the nettle tea recipe,” Serenity says. She means Hydrangea, mistress of Tibetan magic and total fox. Colin and Serenity met her during the Hungry Ghost caper on Halloween. They think she’s my girlfriend. I wish.
Serenity says. “I drank the tea and went into the fertility clinic the next week and the doctor just freaked out. They thought I was infertile, you know. Anyway, the doctor really wanted a copy of the recipe. But it’s the weirdest thing, after I made the tea I lost the recipe. I had it in my folder, and then it was just gone. So if you think of it, ask Heidi to email me the recipe.”
“Yeah, I’ll ask her when I see her,” I say.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Serenity says. “Did it not work out?”
“What? Why would you say that?”
“I can just tell by the tone of your voice,” she says. “Were you not ready for a commitment, or was she just in a different space…?”
“What does that mean, Serenity? A different space.” I’m getting irritated here.
“Oh, you know, she just seemed so… different from you. I’m not being critical; everybody has their own life path they need to walk.”
“Okay, thanks for the dating advice Obi-Wan,” I say.
“So did you break up?”
“Yes. Yes, we broke up. But it’s cool, I’m just skipping down my own life path over here.”
“I’m sorry, Connor. I liked her.”
“Yeah, me too.” I did, too. I liked her.
She lowers her voice, all secretive and shit. “So what happened? Did she dump you, or was it the other way around?”
“Serenity, you know that new thing we do, the bonding thing?”
“Uh huh.”
“Yeah, let’s not do that anymore.”
I’m just kidding of course (sort of) and we end the call with best wishes and jokes about baby names. Colin will go with anything Serenity wants, as long as the kid’s middle name is Tiberius.
I get off the phone and sit alone in my house, which suddenly feels big and cold. I feel like a human Steely Dan song.
Yeah, I don’t really know what that means, either.
“So you’ll have to thank Heidi for me, for the nettle tea recipe,” Serenity says. She means Hydrangea, mistress of Tibetan magic and total fox. Colin and Serenity met her during the Hungry Ghost caper on Halloween. They think she’s my girlfriend. I wish.
Serenity says. “I drank the tea and went into the fertility clinic the next week and the doctor just freaked out. They thought I was infertile, you know. Anyway, the doctor really wanted a copy of the recipe. But it’s the weirdest thing, after I made the tea I lost the recipe. I had it in my folder, and then it was just gone. So if you think of it, ask Heidi to email me the recipe.”
“Yeah, I’ll ask her when I see her,” I say.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Serenity says. “Did it not work out?”
“What? Why would you say that?”
“I can just tell by the tone of your voice,” she says. “Were you not ready for a commitment, or was she just in a different space…?”
“What does that mean, Serenity? A different space.” I’m getting irritated here.
“Oh, you know, she just seemed so… different from you. I’m not being critical; everybody has their own life path they need to walk.”
“Okay, thanks for the dating advice Obi-Wan,” I say.
“So did you break up?”
“Yes. Yes, we broke up. But it’s cool, I’m just skipping down my own life path over here.”
“I’m sorry, Connor. I liked her.”
“Yeah, me too.” I did, too. I liked her.
She lowers her voice, all secretive and shit. “So what happened? Did she dump you, or was it the other way around?”
“Serenity, you know that new thing we do, the bonding thing?”
“Uh huh.”
“Yeah, let’s not do that anymore.”
I’m just kidding of course (sort of) and we end the call with best wishes and jokes about baby names. Colin will go with anything Serenity wants, as long as the kid’s middle name is Tiberius.
I get off the phone and sit alone in my house, which suddenly feels big and cold. I feel like a human Steely Dan song.
Yeah, I don’t really know what that means, either.
November 23, 2004
The Incredibles
Mad props to The Incredibles, which is just an excellent all-around movie. Velvet Marauder says check it out.
The big end fight scene, where The Incredibles and Frozone fight the Omnidroid? That was the shit! I think it knocks the Spider-Man 2 subway fight out of the number one spot for Best Movie Superhero Fight. Plus, Frozone was just so cool. He reminds me of that ice guy in Ann Arbor, MI - Glaciator. Excellent movie.
The big end fight scene, where The Incredibles and Frozone fight the Omnidroid? That was the shit! I think it knocks the Spider-Man 2 subway fight out of the number one spot for Best Movie Superhero Fight. Plus, Frozone was just so cool. He reminds me of that ice guy in Ann Arbor, MI - Glaciator. Excellent movie.
Bad Captain
Evergreen City's newly elected mayor Chip McChesney held his first press conference today. He's very excited about leading our city into the 21st century and is honored that blah blah blah. As promised during his campaign, he wants to work with the Port Authority to expand and modernize our port, wants to extend "growth incentives" to key industries like biotech, give tax breaks to real estate developers, and crack down on crime.
What kind of name is Chip McChesney? That's a singing chipmunk name.
Why am I posting about this? Because at the end of the conference, which I watch on TV, he says:
"I want to make our city safer and saner, and that means curtailing the activities of parahuman vigilantes like the Velvet Marauder. Evergreen City neither asks for nor needs that individual's dubious and illegal brand of justice. This is the 21st century, and our citizens -- all our citizens -- must live under the rule of law.
"To reach that goal, I would like to introduce my candidate for Evergreen City's new police chief, a man with a distinguished career in dealing with parahuman crime. He served with distinction as the captain of the Detroit PD's Major Crimes Unit, and has devoted his life to serving his community. I'd like to introduce Captain Taylor Ryczek, Evergreen City's police chief for a new era of peace and stability."
There's some applause and then Ryczek steps forward. He breaks six feet easy, a big brawny guy that's pushing 50, with a military haircut and clear blue eyes. He kind of looks like that cat who played Big Ed on Twin Peaks, Everett McGill. Here's what he looks like.
This can't be good. Ryczek, that's a bad guy name. In my world, if you have a name like Captain Ryzek, you're trouble.
I'm rarely wrong about this kind of shit.
What kind of name is Chip McChesney? That's a singing chipmunk name.
Why am I posting about this? Because at the end of the conference, which I watch on TV, he says:
"I want to make our city safer and saner, and that means curtailing the activities of parahuman vigilantes like the Velvet Marauder. Evergreen City neither asks for nor needs that individual's dubious and illegal brand of justice. This is the 21st century, and our citizens -- all our citizens -- must live under the rule of law.
"To reach that goal, I would like to introduce my candidate for Evergreen City's new police chief, a man with a distinguished career in dealing with parahuman crime. He served with distinction as the captain of the Detroit PD's Major Crimes Unit, and has devoted his life to serving his community. I'd like to introduce Captain Taylor Ryczek, Evergreen City's police chief for a new era of peace and stability."
There's some applause and then Ryczek steps forward. He breaks six feet easy, a big brawny guy that's pushing 50, with a military haircut and clear blue eyes. He kind of looks like that cat who played Big Ed on Twin Peaks, Everett McGill. Here's what he looks like.
This can't be good. Ryczek, that's a bad guy name. In my world, if you have a name like Captain Ryzek, you're trouble.
I'm rarely wrong about this kind of shit.
Superficial banter and an intriguing offer
So I’m sitting at work, shopping for shoes online instead of working. I found a nice pair of Pradas on sale. Shopping always cheers me up. What can I say, I’m a product of my culture.
As I’m online Margo pops into my office/cube/cell with a cheery, “Morning, Mackenzie!” I almost have a heart attack and quickly switch to the spreadsheet that I should be working on.
“That doesn’t look like work…” she says, sipping her Odwalla.
“No, it does not, but I assure you it is,” I say. “You almost made me pee my pants.”
She smiles and I forget about Hydrangea for a minute and just bask in Margo’s beautiful Margo-ness. She's wearing a black V-neck sweater over a white Oxford shirt and a snug skirt.
“That sounds like a personal problem.” We talk like this, it’s our interpersonal paradigm, this superficial banter.
“I’m sure you didn’t come down here to discuss my bladder.”
“No, I did not. So listen,” she says in a slightly lower voice. “That project I mentioned the other week? Are you up for it?”
“I don’t know what ‘it’ is.”
“I can’t really say…” she says.
“How coy. Is it the QuantumWorks thing…?”
That’s the secret project that the people up on 9 are working on. They’re sequestered from the rest of the company behind security doors and always have catered lunches brought to them. It’s some kind of “blue sky” software development think tank or something. There’s a lot of rumors and speculation about it around the office, but I’m not really interested as there are no super-villains involved.
“I can’t really say,” she says again.
“Let me get this straight: you want me to sign up for a project, but you won’t tell me what it is.”
She grins. “Right.”
“I’d have to clear it with Dragon Lady first, and that’s not likely…” Dragon Lady’s my boss. You don’t get a nickname like Dragon Lady for being huggable.
“We already cleared it with her.”
“Well, I’ve got projects…”
“Make somebody else do it.”
“I don’t know, Margo…”
“There’s a substantial bonus,” she says.
“I’m in.”
“Great!” She hops to her feet, happy. “We’ve got a meeting on Friday at noon, I’ll introduce you to the steering committee.”
“Friday? That’s the day after Thanksgiving, I was going to go shopping.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a girl, Mackenzie. Shop after the meeting. I’ll send you a meeting request in Outlook. Hey, and don’t tell anybody.” She points a finger at me, momentarily serious.
I cross my heart. “No ma’am.”
Margo grins and waves as she leaves with a flip of her hair. “Thanks Mackenzie! You’re the best!”
I have to admit, I am curious.
As I’m online Margo pops into my office/cube/cell with a cheery, “Morning, Mackenzie!” I almost have a heart attack and quickly switch to the spreadsheet that I should be working on.
“That doesn’t look like work…” she says, sipping her Odwalla.
“No, it does not, but I assure you it is,” I say. “You almost made me pee my pants.”
She smiles and I forget about Hydrangea for a minute and just bask in Margo’s beautiful Margo-ness. She's wearing a black V-neck sweater over a white Oxford shirt and a snug skirt.
“That sounds like a personal problem.” We talk like this, it’s our interpersonal paradigm, this superficial banter.
“I’m sure you didn’t come down here to discuss my bladder.”
“No, I did not. So listen,” she says in a slightly lower voice. “That project I mentioned the other week? Are you up for it?”
“I don’t know what ‘it’ is.”
“I can’t really say…” she says.
“How coy. Is it the QuantumWorks thing…?”
That’s the secret project that the people up on 9 are working on. They’re sequestered from the rest of the company behind security doors and always have catered lunches brought to them. It’s some kind of “blue sky” software development think tank or something. There’s a lot of rumors and speculation about it around the office, but I’m not really interested as there are no super-villains involved.
“I can’t really say,” she says again.
“Let me get this straight: you want me to sign up for a project, but you won’t tell me what it is.”
She grins. “Right.”
“I’d have to clear it with Dragon Lady first, and that’s not likely…” Dragon Lady’s my boss. You don’t get a nickname like Dragon Lady for being huggable.
“We already cleared it with her.”
“Well, I’ve got projects…”
“Make somebody else do it.”
“I don’t know, Margo…”
“There’s a substantial bonus,” she says.
“I’m in.”
“Great!” She hops to her feet, happy. “We’ve got a meeting on Friday at noon, I’ll introduce you to the steering committee.”
“Friday? That’s the day after Thanksgiving, I was going to go shopping.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a girl, Mackenzie. Shop after the meeting. I’ll send you a meeting request in Outlook. Hey, and don’t tell anybody.” She points a finger at me, momentarily serious.
I cross my heart. “No ma’am.”
Margo grins and waves as she leaves with a flip of her hair. “Thanks Mackenzie! You’re the best!”
I have to admit, I am curious.
November 22, 2004
Yet another goddamn armored car heist
This is getting fucking annoying. This time somebody with a camcorder got footage of three Jet Pack Mafia goons blasting off with bags of loot, laughing. Each of these robberies happens in the suburbs or outside of town, and as we all know I'm strictly an urban jungle guy.
I wish I could fly.
I know, everybody wishes they could fly, but with me it's actually a possibility. It happens. You find an alien hover-belt, or a flight ring or something. I mean, that guy in San Dimas, Chrysalis -- he started off as a street level guy, then he grew those big freaky dragonfly wings. Okay, maybe he's not a good example. Who wants giant crystal wings? How does he go into restaurants?
I should ask My Guy what the options are for upgrading the armor with some sort of flight or gliding capabilities. I've got to stay competitive. This is like an arms race. The Jet Pack Mafia are making me look like a putz, and pretty soon Kestrel or somebody is going to come along and cut in on my scene.
I wish I could fly.
I know, everybody wishes they could fly, but with me it's actually a possibility. It happens. You find an alien hover-belt, or a flight ring or something. I mean, that guy in San Dimas, Chrysalis -- he started off as a street level guy, then he grew those big freaky dragonfly wings. Okay, maybe he's not a good example. Who wants giant crystal wings? How does he go into restaurants?
I should ask My Guy what the options are for upgrading the armor with some sort of flight or gliding capabilities. I've got to stay competitive. This is like an arms race. The Jet Pack Mafia are making me look like a putz, and pretty soon Kestrel or somebody is going to come along and cut in on my scene.
Patrol Report
I mistakenly thought that going on patrol would cheer me up, but I am so wrong. I hop around Midtown listening to Paul Oakenfield and all I accomplish is bringing my pulse rate up a little. I end up just sitting on a rooftop, moping.
Okay, here it is: I kind of miss Hydrangea a little. I mean, I could get used to hanging out with somebody like that. You know, a pretty girl.
Don't get me wrong, I have friends and stuff, but I can't really tell them about the secret identity or else it wouldn't be a secret identity, would it? I can't tell my brother, either. It makes me feel like a dick. Then on the other hand, I have my superhuman peer group; people like Wombat and Kestrel and her. It's great to have other super freaks to talk shop and team up with and stuff, but it's sort of a business relationship - you always have to have your game face on.
Maybe I should get a cat.
Okay, here it is: I kind of miss Hydrangea a little. I mean, I could get used to hanging out with somebody like that. You know, a pretty girl.
Don't get me wrong, I have friends and stuff, but I can't really tell them about the secret identity or else it wouldn't be a secret identity, would it? I can't tell my brother, either. It makes me feel like a dick. Then on the other hand, I have my superhuman peer group; people like Wombat and Kestrel and her. It's great to have other super freaks to talk shop and team up with and stuff, but it's sort of a business relationship - you always have to have your game face on.
Maybe I should get a cat.
November 20, 2004
Another armored car robbery
There was another armored car hold-up today. This one was right at the edge of Chinatown in front of Pacific Rim Bank. The armored car was blown up too, just like the robbery at Emerald Greens.
According to the news, witnesses said that the bandits (at least three of them) were wearing pinstripe suits and were carrying Tommy guns. After the robbery they blasted off in a cloud of smoke and flew away, laughing.
Jet Pack Mafia.
Guess I’m going on patrol. Shit, and I was planning on drinking beer and playing Halo 2 over at Mitch and Lisa’s tonight.
According to the news, witnesses said that the bandits (at least three of them) were wearing pinstripe suits and were carrying Tommy guns. After the robbery they blasted off in a cloud of smoke and flew away, laughing.
Jet Pack Mafia.
Guess I’m going on patrol. Shit, and I was planning on drinking beer and playing Halo 2 over at Mitch and Lisa’s tonight.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)