A disliked staff meal.

For the one resthome where I work, we get a free staff meal, sometimes a big cheap dish like pasta or something, and at other times leftovers, and very rarely the exact same meal that the residents eat.

The other week, we got the exact same meal that the residents eat, and it was tongue.

It was all cut up and it seemed very nice and it even looked like roast beef, but me and my two (Tibetan) coworkers didn't want it, and neither did the (Jamaican) supervisor, so we gave all of ours to our one (filipina) coworker, who had some and then Saranwrapped the rest to take home for later.

Instead, we all had extra helpings of the mashed potatoes, which were mashed with spinach that night and were really very good.

Levity from a client.

For my one resthome job, I often work with this one (70 year old?) (older) (heavier) (white) (male) client who I have to take around in his wheelchair, go to the toilet, get ready for bed, and whatnot.

The other week at his bedtime, we were going through our routine and he had stood up from his wheelchair, and I was like, "Okay, now take down your pants," and at that he suddenly stopped, looked over very seriously, and was like, "But I hardly know you, you m*th*rf*ck*r."

And then, he broke out in a big smile, at how much he fucked with me.

Perfect deadpan delivery!

A Dream of Wildlife.

The other week I dreamnt:

I am a deer, and am standing on a hillside. 

I can see myself from slightly behind and to the left of my neck, and I know that someone is present to the left and behind of me, and that that person is human, and that we're both worried about getting caught and harmed, me in particular, because I'm a deer.

I can also sense a small ethereal tube in the back left of my neck, and see a transparent glowing substance flowing in and out of it in smooth and orderly circles like a magnetic field, and I know that that's the secret to me becoming an animal or a human as I wish, which I can control, at least most of the time.

In my field of vision, I don't see it in my deer neck, but I can see it in my mind's eye, and sense it in my neck as me the viewer looking on me the deer.

Then, we go up the hill and onto a plateau, where there's a small camp.

Some people are in tents and there's an outbuilding and a gazebo, and there's not as much tree cover as I expect or as I remember since it was a camp I used to go to in childhood, and everything seems quiet, for now.

. . .

A sleep strategy?

Since I'm settling into my new jobs and campaigning, I'm thinking that I'll have to try to get up out of bed like 10am every day, since that allows me to wake up and then canvas some before work.

Then, I can work second shift and get home and get to bed relatively early, since I'll be tired from the day.

If I don't do that, I'll stay up a few hours after work, only to try to get seven to eight hours' worth of sleep and get up at 10am, only to wake up at 10am all sore and then reset my alarm so I wake up at like 11am or noon or whatnot and can get more sleep until then.

My one fear, though, is that I'll get up early like I want to and then push myself at work and then stay up late at night anyway, so I'll start depriving myself of sleep and come down sick easier, and I'll have to cancel work to get better to boot since I can't go in to work and get an old person sick, that would just be horrible of me.

Lost my puzzle magazine.

Usually I keep a bunch of free newspapers and magazines in my satchel, so that I have them to read when I'm on public transportation or at a bar or whatnot.

A few weeks ago, I was doing my puzzle magazine a lot, and then I get to the bar, and I go through my satchel and I can't find it.

I can't find it at home, either.

I wonder, did I leave it someplace, or did it fall out of my bag?

I lost my issue a few years ago, and it kind of sucked not having it around, to do puzzles when I wanted.

I hope the next issue comes soon.

Highlights of campaigning at a bar till 2am.

First off, a fight breaks out, and someone gets chucked from the bar.

Second off, the men's room has a urinal right next to the toilet, no divider, and me and the (pot-bellied) (white) (male) bartender somehow end up in there pissing at the same time, and he pisses while I'm pissing, and I have to maintain conversation on random campaign and personal bullshit, while finishing off and keeping my head in a natural position looking out in some other direction than where his junk is at.

"You got my vote," he tells me later in the night, after spotting me a beer at some point earlier.

Later on, I'm by the back bar, and there's this bearded white ex-jock guy next to a white girl, both younger, and the guy's all hepped up and tries to sell me cocaine, then says something about his having a ten-inch dick, then at some point says I have to understand the neighborhood and calls me an "asshole," then says can I guarantee that his alley gets plowed, then on, can I guarantee it, then that if he gives me an eightball can I do that for him.

"Hey," I was like, "Forget the eightball, come into my office and roll out your ten-inch dick, then let's see where that gets you, 'asshole,'" and when I said "asshole," I put airquotes around it, mocking him.

At that, he didn't know what the fuck to say, and his ladyfriend started laughing out loud, and then she held out her hand and highfived me, and was like, "You got my vote!".

Later, I texted about the situation to my one art school colleague who wears women's clothes, and in the middle of our conversation about it, he's like -

I mean I always avoided certain situations but it at the point where hanging wi[th] any straights is usually them trying to get attention and run a game for drugs

- and then -

And recent events have proven that some will lure the sex and attack if you go for it.  Though in my experiences I did not go for it....

- and then -

Yay!!!!

. . .

I knew that campaigning would take me to new places but I never anticipated this, to be honest.

I kind of love it.

At some point, someone was also dropping major ass in the bar, and me and a constituent were talking about who did it and how much it sucked.

A story of a bartender, about taking care of the disabled.

The other night at a bar party one of the bartenders who invited me to come campaign and I were talking, and she was like, "I've tended bar for seventeen years, but it's not me," and then she started telling me about her other job, where she goes a few days a week to go supervise a couple group homes for adult men with disabilities, mostly Down's Syndrome.

"They told me that one of them sometimes dresses in women's clothing, but he'll only show that to you if he's comfortable," she was like.

So, one day, he comes out, and he's in a teddy and thong.

"So, I told him, that I've pulled enough thongs out of my ass, so he better not come to me, I ain't pulling it out of no man's ass!", she was like, and she laughed.