Bleak-end Update

Well, another busy weekend has come and gone - and I am the worse for wear. On Saturday, my wife's college roommate and her family came to visit from Reading, PA, and we're still trying to clean up from Hurricanes Kyle, Kailey, Nathan, and Erik. Everyone had a good time, but I was wincing when the kids were playing with the Matchbox cars on the pool table. "Watch the felt! Watch the felt!!"

On Sunday, I met my cousins and uncles at Philadelphia Park for a day at the races. (My brother bailed out at the last second to help his brother-in-law move - "I'm not driving him to the airport!" - and was called several disparaging names as a result.) Yours truly did pretty well considering; I won on the first race, and a few of the following races for a grand total of $30. Not bad after factoring in bets and drinks. The weather was gorgeous, and a good time was had by all.

Sunday night, however, was not so good. The X-Men were defeated by the Bad Land Boys, 5-3, which dropped our record to 2-3. Gee, .500 was nice while it lasted! My line didn't play poorly, but I didn't score any points, either. Our next game is Sunday, November 13, when we face off against Chilly McPhilly's.

For all of you who have been concerned by my mental state, I wish I could say it is improving, but in actuality, it is getting much worse. One of the guys in my squad hinted that my a-hole sergeant is not letting up, and I have heard rumblings that he is bad-mouthing me in front of the squad on my days off. Being a normal, well-adjusted individual (right!), this news only added to my growing depression. I hate my sergeant, I hate my job, and I really don't feel like blogging anymore. To be more specific, I don't feel like doing anything anymore, and I had to be talked into attending the hockey game last night. I don't need stress from some a-hole who is only a few months from retirement, but if he is gonna frak with me, I'm gonna frak with him. I am sure there are people who would be interested in some of the off-the-record policies of a major metropolitan police district.

Keep frakking with me, DJ, and I'll rat you out for all of the crap you ever did!

Editor's note: I am writing this after far too many pints of Guinness. The heavy drinking a result of the pressure from my a-hole supervisor. I do not condone "ratting" on anyone, but I've had it with this man. The son-of-a-bitch was a guest at my home for my son's Christening!