Sit on It...and Rotate

I think I tore my rotator cuff.

I can't really be sure though, because I'm not really sure what a rotator cuff is. And since I'm not a pitcher for the Yankees I don't really know who to call to find out.

I've done some shit in the last two days that I'm not particularly proud of. That's beginning to be sort of a mantra of mine. Next step is figuring out how it makes a difference.

Bad week last week, crazy week this week. Not really sure which way is up right now but I wanted to share a quick story while I had a chance.

I got a bad phone call the other day, from someone I hadn't heard from in awhile. Turns out an old friend of ours, who I also hadn't talked to in awhile, is very sick. So sick he might not make it. Cancer. It's sort of scary. Shit like that isn't supposed to happen to good people like him, and all you can do is sit and wait. Been so long since I seen him it's not even like I can just call him up and see how he's doing. Way I see it in six months I'll hear he's dead, or hear he's not. Either way it won't make much difference, just like I can't call him to say I'm sorry he's sick, I won't be able to call him and say I'm glad when he's well. It's just another sad story that doesn't really affect me, all I can do is hope and pray for an old friend I likely won't see again either way.

This afternoon, as I was beginning to pull out of the fever that has enveloped me for most of the last two days, another friend left me a message saying she needed to talk to me. Right away. When I asked if she was ok, she said she wasn't.

Now the terror which swallowed me at this moment is almost as bad as anything I've ever experienced before. I'm not the sort who is afraid of very much, but here I was scared shitless of God knows what.

Now the old friend who is sick is certainly a friend, but he's someone who hasn't been a part of my life in the last three years or so. Someone who I care a lot about, but...well you know. Now this other person is certainly a friend too, a different sort of friend most likely, but someone who I still see occasionally for the time being. Someone who I care a lot about, and for a second I imagined that my week was about to get a lot worse indirectly.

So when she told me that a common friend of ours was going away, I was just glad everybody was ok. I was relieved that it was just something bad and not something worse.

Relief...not a feeling I'm entirely used to.

God damn old ghosts are all riled up.

And there ain't a thing I can do about it...

Not right now anyways.

Da-Dum-Dum

Well...

I got a lot on my plate coming up.

Forti's wedding next week, hopefully some stuff with church, Nick's bachelor party and wedding, going to meet up with Crago and Todd some time in July, going to hang out with my cousin James one of these days, and I might even try to squeeze in a vacation somewhere in there. I would like to spend a little more time with the kids too.

So things are sort of good.

Saturday was Forti's bachelor party and it kicked ass, it was really good to hang out with some of those guys too. Sunday was nice, I spent a bit of non-work time with my father for Father's Day and hung out with my little sister for her first 12th birthday...I say first because she is staying 12 forever, or so I have decided. I only spent a little time in the office over the weekend, which was really nice too.

So things have been good, and there are good things coming up.

I've also made a few decisions. I'm probably going to get a new car soon. Going to try and sit down and write a little bit more. Realized I need to spend more time, and less money, in strip clubs. Enter the go-go bar concept and a summer full of possibilities. Going to head down to AC for a bit over the summer and get some gambling in, something I haven't done in a really long time. Going to find something good to read, because it's taking me entirely too long to get through the shitty little book I' m reading now.

And business is, well, business is good.

How strange is that?

We're making good money, and a lot of that lately has to do with me getting better and better at what I do.

I'm making more money...which is nice too, seeing as I have to get money from somewhere to pay for the aforementioned go-go dancers.

I like coming to work more without Tim in the office, and I like seeing Tim more when I don't have to see him in the office. And he seems like he's doing well...so this is looking like a good move all around.

Things are getting better before they get worse, which is nice because they used to get worse before they got, uh...worse-er?

I can sort of all live with that.

But it's not all good.

One of my dogs died today. Stray sort of just wandered into our parking lot one day many years ago and decided that he liked it, so he would stay. And stay he did. He was never much of a guard dog, but he was a good dog anyway. I'll miss him.

I'm busy. Ridiculously busy. There's just a lot going on right now, and the old man makes things a little more difficult. Tim being gone may have made things easier in general on me, but it also means there's a little more for me to do. Even if Tim did half of what he had to, and less than half of what I asked him to do, he did something. And now I have to do that too. It's the season switch which means everybody wants something...and I'm the one they're asking for it.

I can't get my damn lawn mowed. I had a guy in to look at it last week and they swore they'd be in last week and here we are Tuesday with nary a blade of grass mowed, and another warning from the town about shoving a fine up my ass. Because I need one more problem right?

As great as Saturday was, Friday sucked. Besides being one of those long awful horrible days we all tend to have every now and then, I offended someone I care a lot about...simply by being me. I'm harsh, I know, so does everybody else. I like to break balls, I know, so does everybody else. I kid because I care...and because I'm an asshole, I know, and so does everybody else. So when you offend someone simply by being you (even if you're me) it doesn't bode well for, well, everything.

So what's next?

Ha...

We will see.

The Streets: A Non-Story Story of My Day

I was walking down the streets of hell the other day when Lady Pain approached me and screamed:

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

Walking down my streets like you don't got a care in the world, all smiling and whistling some happy song?

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

And though I hurt, and though I tired, I pushed her aside and I continued on down that road.

And as I was walking down the streets of hell Lady Night approached me and screamed:

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

Walking down my streets leaving little bits of light where you go, all upright and proud scaring my nasty little friends away?

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

And though I was frightened, and though I was scared I pushed her aside and I continued on down that road.

And as I was walking down the streets of hell Lady Death approached me and screamed:

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

Walking down my streets with a skip to your step and a pop in your stride, all large and loud doing the things you do? Working hard, watching out for everybody, spending time with the people you love and care about, spending time with yourself and your thoughts, constantly making sure that all is right in the world...or as right as you could make it be?

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

And though I was nervous, and though I was uncertain I looked her straight in the eye and said:

BITCH, DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?

I AM CHRIS MOTHER-FUCKING PALOMBA!

YOU CAN'T STOP ME...YOU CAN'T EVEN SLOW ME DOWN!

And with that I pushed her aside and I continued on down that road.

Now ain't that some shit?

Yakko's World

I remember being 12 years old and watching this.

I think 45 seconds in or so my mind just went, "Fuuuuuuck."



14 years later I still watch this before going to bed some nights and just laugh my ass off.

I'm simple. Get used to it.

Conversations I Swear I Haven't Had With Myself In The Past 24 Hours

"You know what could possibly go wrong if I don't show up for work this morning? I'm the only one in the office on the weekend, I bet no one would even notice. And if they did? So what I'm the boss. Yeah that's it, I'm not going to work this morning. Fuck 'em all. That's right, bad ass Palomba, not showing up for work at 6:00 A.M. on a Sunday morning. Better not fuck with me, I'm a mean nasty irresponsible badd ass motherfucker who's not going to work on Sunday morning. And you see what I did there? That was Badd with two d's like the white people pretending to be black people used to use in the titles of those blaxploitation films. Yeah...I should have been in one of those movies, they could have called it 'Badd Ass Palomba And That Sunday Morning Where He Didn't Go To Work Because He's A Baddd Man Who Doesn't Give A Fuck' Yeah..."

"Shit. Where are my pants? I need to get to work."

"Damn dog shit on the floor again. Stupid dog. Stupid, smelly, shitty dog. Why did you shit on the floor again dog? Huh? Why? You never see me shitting on the floor do you dog? And it's not because it doesn't sound like fun, it's because I'm a responsible adult and responsible adults DO NOT SHIT ON THE FLOOR! Stupid dog. Stupid, smelly, shitty dog."

"Man I wish they made cheese in a bucket. That would be the greatest thing ever. Right up there with that story of the guy in a wheelchair who got stuck on the grill of a semi-truck and got pushed down the highway at 50 mph. Man that was some funny shit. You know what they should do? They should put some cheese in a bucket and give it to that kid. Then this would be like the best week of his little wheelchair bound life. Getting to ride on the grill of a semi-truck and getting a free bucket of cheese. Awesome."

"Was I that big of an idiot when I was fifteen? No wonder girls didn't talk to me. It's a wonder my parents didn't take me out back the barn and shoot me in the head. I think this kid's retarded. And I don't mean in the traditional jocular he's so stupid he could be retarded sort of way. I mean maybe he needs a helmet, a harness, and a few hours a day in that small padded room that smells like stale urine."

"Boobs. Boobs. Boobs. Boobs."

"Oh shit, is that cop following me? Am I speeding? Oh fuck, I forgot to put the license plate on the front of the car. He's definitely going to pull me over. No big, I'll just explain or pay the ticket. Oh shit! How the hell do I explain having a sixteen year old girl in my car at ten o'clock on a Sunday night...while I'm doing 20 mph over the speed limit...without a license plate on the front of the car! FUCK! Oh, hey, wait...it's a taxi cab not a cop car. Whew...hey, is that taxi cab following me?"

"What's that smell?"

"Holy shit? That's it? That's how they end the fucking show? Do they expect us to put up with that. I'm calling HBO in the morning and telling them they can take my subscription and shove it up their ass. Fade to black...well, I guess it was sort of cool. Poignant even, wait, no fuck it. That was bullshit. And you didn't even get to see when the car crushed Retardo's head. They cut away and just made the noise. I bet that's not even what a head popping sounds like. I bet it sounds totally different like no one would ever expect. Ok, so it was sort of hot when Meadow said 'fucking' in the restaurant and AJ's girlfriend wasn't half bad either. But what the hell was it with only having the Bing dancers on CCTV during the scene with Tony's lawyer? It's the final episode get those bitches out. Every guy in the show should have been shot and every chick should have been running around topless. Except the one who plays Tony's sister. We don't need to see that, they could have just shot her too. Didn't someone say they were thinking of making a Sopranos movie? Fuck that. I've been paying to watch this shit for the last three years there's no way they're getting another ten bucks out of me...unless Meadow gets naked. I'd pay to see that."

"Maybe you need to get your fat ass in shape so that eating pringles and jacking off doesn't require cold compresses and a three hour cool down period. Just a thought."

"The M1 Garand is the main reason we won World War II. If not for that brilliant piece of weaponary we might all be speaking Nazi right now. I base this totally on the fact that when playing Call of Duty on XBox Live I always kick some Axis ass using the M1 Garand."

"Is it supposed to curve like that?"

Timothy

I fired my brother today.

And make no mistake, though I may say it in many ways over the course of the next few paragraphs and many more over the next few days, I fired the kid.

He had it coming.

Tim and I are nothing alike. We never have been. Since he's been old enough to talk he's never been anything but nasty to me, and though I'm often ashamed to admit it I never really tried to change that. If the kid wants to hate me, let him hate me. I never liked it, it always bothered me, but it's always been how it is.

I haven't always been very nice to him either. I've judged him when I should have helped him, I've pressured him when I should have let him be, I've been jealous when I should have been supportive.

That's what brotherhood seems to be in the Palomba family.

I'm not innocent in all of this.

Tim's always had the touch when it comes to people. He could spit in their face and shit on their laps and they'd still think he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. I have a small but dedicated group of friend and acquaintances but it's nothing in comparison to the swath of popularity that the kid leaves in his path. He doesn't keep friends for as long as I do, he's never as tight with his friends as I am, his friends can't count on him the way mine sometimes do. But I've still always been jealous of his way with people.

But Tim also has this limitless supply of conscience. He can be rude, nasty, disingenuous, lascivious...shit just break out the thesaurus and underline any word that has to do remotely with being a jerk. And he never feels bad about it. I've never done even a little bad thing in my life and not felt horrible about it afterwards. I inadvertently took someones Coke from the office fridge the other day having forgotten that I already drank mine. When I realized I had to apologize a million times and replace the Coke or I couldn't have gone on with the rest of the day. And it wasn't even somebody I remotely like! Tim could fuck his best friend over and not think twice about it. I don't envy people like that, I pity people like that.

The kid's not lazy. He's a worker when he wants to be. But the problem is he wants to be less and less often. Running a business like this, a family business yes, but a fairly large fairly fucked business takes a lot of effort. It means working late, working weekends, working when you'd rather be doing a million other things. It means getting shit done. Tim doesn't get that. He wants to work when he wants to work and fuck all to everything else. So when shit needs to be done Tim is very often not there. You can't count on him at all, and he's not the type to step it up in a pinch either. He's even worse when you really need him than when you only sort of need him. This has been obvious his entire life. So I've developed a strategy to deal with it. I make sure I never really need him.

He wants everything, but wants to give up nothing. It's a perfectly human attitude but a perfectly unacceptable one as well. I come in between 9-10 most days. Anytime something is wrong I come in earlier. Very often as early as 5 or 5:30, earlier when we're busy or the weather's bad. I close every night (because Tim couldn't do it right.) Most nights I don't get out of here till after 9 or 10 at night. I work every weekend, all weekend. Coming in between 5-5:30 on Saturdays, and being in and out up until 9 or 10 at night, opening up usually around 7 on Sundays and being in and out until 7 or 8 at night. All those times of course being flexible with the companies schedule. The busier it is the more I'm here, or the more fucked up it is the more I'm here. Tim generally is supposed to be here at 7 in the morning and stay till about 5, Monday through Friday. He was supposed to stay two or three nights a week and split weekends with me, but that never really worked out. He rarely shows up at 7 when he's supposed to, even if we've told him it's important. At least once a week he doesn't show up till 10 or so. And it's happened maybe four times in the last two months that he's gotten stanko the night before and not shown up till after 1. When this happens, to his credit, he usually stays a little late to make up for it. For all this he is paid on the exact same schedule as I am. He made his first year what I made my first year, he's making his second year what I made my second year. His first bonus was roughly $5,000 more than mine. I have taken no vacations in the last two years, and take on average of three to four days off for the entire year. Tim doesn't take many days off either, but he rarely comes in on the weekend and just got back from a ten day vacation in Europe.

I don't hold any of that against him.

Now people with normal jobs, or who aren't self employed are looking at this and going, "Fuck all! That's a lot of work." But people who run their own businesses, particularly of this size, get it.

I was technically Tim's boss, but I rarely ever told him what to do or even asked him to do anything, for the most part because he would ignore me anyway. Lots of times when my old man told me to tell Tim to do something I would just do it myself to avoid the argument. It added quite a bit to my already full plate, but you have to do what you have to do.

It was just getting old though. Hearing about how much he hated this place, how much he couldn't wait till he got out of here, how much he wished we'd just fire him., how he wished we would just give him his cut so he wouldn't have to have anything to do with this place anymore. It got old having to hear his catchphrases like, "It's not my problem." and "It's not my job." and "I don't want to do that." And every time he'd say one of those things I'd swallow it and add yet another bit of work to my pile and another few minutes to my day.

It gets old though, having someone tell you how much they hate what you've chosen as your career. How horrible a place is that you love being a part of (even though it can be pretty horrible at times.) It gets old listening to a kid who doesn't really have a whole lot of options bash your choice when you know you had far far more options than him. And at some point when you don't have to listen to it...you inevitably choose to stop listening to it.

And that's what happened today.

And when he said, "It's not my job. It's not my problem. I'm not doing that. So if you don't like it, fire me."

I did.

And when he laughed and said, "Well you can call dad and explain this one."

I said, "I already have."

And in a rather awkward moment the kid stopped to ponder what the hell had just happened before exiting the office in a huff.

I had already told my father that if Tim didn't come around I was going to have to let him go. I knew coming into work this morning that this was how things were going to go. I knew because if Tim is anything he is predictable. And I had tried to avoid this moment for as long as possible because as much as I don't want Tim here, I never really wanted to fire him. Today I had no choice. Things needed to be done. He wouldn't do them.

Tim played his last card a little too far.

He's always known my father likes him more than he likes me. My father respects how hard I work even if he doesn't always appreciate it, and recognizes that I put a lot of effort into everything even if it isn't always done the way he wants. But he just likes Tim more, and the kid has always taken advantage of the fact. What he may have forgotten though is that there is a very sad but very real possibility that our father likes money more than he likes either one of us. And one thing is very, very clear. I have made my father a shitload of money over the last twelve months. And Tim has made him none. It wasn't even really a fair fight.

Now I'm not naive enough to think that this is anywhere near over. There's a very good chance that, with or without my blessing, Tim's going to be back and be exactly the same as always. But things will be different this time, because he will know he just got his last pass, and that next time he won't just lose the privilege of being able to come here and work like a slave like the rest of us. If he comes back, and blows it again, he loses everything. The car. The cell phone. The health insurance. The money. Everything.

We've been playing a game this whole time, but the games over now. Or better, we're still playing...but this time it's for keeps.

Ha...how's that sound?

I've always been able to say that no matter how much we dislike each other, that Tim's my brother and I love him. It just seems like every time I have to say that lately I mean it a little less.

And that's just sad.

"He ain't heavy Father, he's my dipshit brother." - Palomba