Jerk (Off)

"Most guys masturbate a lot, I masturbate enough." - T.O. Hob

Wicked...

School started on Tuesday and like I predicted it was an absolute disaster. I pretty much held things together on my own and I spent the majority of that night patching things together. I had told Goldberg I wasn't going to make it down for our show, and he should get a replacement co-host for the night. He did, but at the last minute I managed to break out of work for a bit (it was 8:30 P.M. and I still hadn't taken even a piss break since 5:00 A.M.) and in what can be described as a minor miracle I hit Route 18 at the exact moment the program started. I listened to the first five minutes of the show in the car, and made it upstairs before the ten minute mark. Instead of interrupting I just let them keep going. Thing was they were good, not great, but good and by the time they realized I was standing there they'd already said quite a bit. And then, just after the first break, I came on the air. And the whole program sort of changed. Goldberg sort of switched it to a different level and the two of us never missed a beat. We'd had decent shows before, but this is the first one where the two of us hit our stride and never looked back. I think it was because we got to see what it was like when it wasn't the two of us for a moment. I've always believed in the power of showing up, but I hadn't noticed until the other night that showing up late can work out well too. If we keep on doing the show and keep on getting better we'll look back on Tuesday night as a huge turning point.

I remember when Matt and I hit that point. We were mostly crap mostly because we wanted to be. But there were a few moments where the two of us were brilliant, where we kind of fooled ourselves into thinking we were better than we were. We didn't just think we were good, we thought we might actually be good enough.

I guess I knew we never were, doesn't matter much now anyway.

So Tuesday's schedule went in the shit, and despite everything we did to cover some things slipped through the cracks due to no fault of our own. I spent extra time Tuesday night making sure Wednesday would go well. I worked 17 hours on Tuesday.

My father and brother were being assholes, neither one had a real grasp of what was going on but until things started going wrong they were toying with my planning and taking credit for a smooth morning. When they started fucking up it all came back to me. So I fixed it. No problem. That's what I do. I placated angry parents, drivers, and schools. I fought to get things right and hit back at my father and brother's stubborn and misguided efforts with a pitbull sort of tenacity. At 7:00 when they realized how badly they screwed up the board for the next day it took me an hour or so to fix it. At 8:00 when they realized the kid had forgotten to write a handful of runs that began the next day they gave-up, packed-up, and went home. I stayed up all night writing them, they were ready to go for the next morning. I worked 20 hours on Wednesday.

Thursday I drove a very long run because it had gone badly the day before. The run took up 7 hours of my day. I spent most of my time reminding the kid of things he had to do and trying to help him do them. I spent the rest of the time fixing the things he wouldn't listen to me about. In the year and a half I've been running things we've completely blown exactly one job. Thursday, the kid's third day of running anything, we blew four. I put a stop to it all real quick. Late Thursday night as I worked in the office the phone rang. I answered, said hello, and the voice of a young woman on the other end said, "I'm sorry, you have the wrong number." I worked 20 hours on Thursday.

Friday I slept late. Getting to work at 5:35 A.M. instead of 5:30 A.M. For the first time this season my father and brother made it in to the office before me (they also seven hours before me the day before). They had the nerve to call me and ask if I'd overslept. I drove for seven hours. Spent the rest of the time banging away in the office. My father overbooked and when he figured out he couldn't cover all the work, he left it all to me. It's Friday and I've worked 17 hours. And the day is not over yet...

The day is not over yet...