Look! I'm actually updating frequently! And no hands too!

I exchanged text messages with my sister last night. She updated me on my nephew's condition. The docs think it's viral infection. My sister takes him for a follow up tomorrow. Like I had been saying all along, it would be nothing serious. Hey I'm the Pope. I know these things.

I tell Violet the same thing. Well, not the Pope part. She thinks I'm weird enough as it is. Like a few weeks ago we were at the mall and she pointed out some Indian people. We laugh cause when she first saw me she thought I was Indian (of the Hindu variety). I went into character and used my Hindi accent. She just looked at me and called me weird. I love it!

I've been off work since Saturday. I don't go back until Wednesday. Wonderful thing called shift work. I really don't mind it. I get tons of time off. If I were to work no overtime, I literally have half the year off. But I always end up working a shit load of overtime cause I like making even shitloads more money than I make now.

Anyway, I touch on the work subject because there is the remote chance I might get transferred by this summer. Do I want to go? No and yes. No cause I'm happy where I'm at and I pretty much get to do anything I want. I definitely get away with a lot of stuff on the nights and weekend shifts. I get to read, do personal things like pay bills and even take movies and video games to work. On the other hand I do want to get forced to transfer. In being forced to another department, I keep my departmental seniority. If I volunteer I keep my plant seniority but lose my departmental. Plant seniority is the important one. That's how they determine layoffs. Departmental seniority determines things like who gets moved around and who gets preferred shifts.

So back to my potential move. By keeping my departmental seniority at the new place, I'll be like four or five retirements or deaths from a straight day job. I'd still be working the four on four off schedule but no longer nights. I'd prefer to go to a straight night job but those don't exist. The only reason I'll go straight day is so I can straighten out my sleep patterns. For the first eight years I could switch back and forth like nothing. Now it's a bitch. I'm a night owl so I adjust easily to nights. At least now that I've been diagnosed with sleep apnea and use a CPAP I'm no longer falling over at my desk sleeping.

And now for a the introduction of a new character to my little melodrama here. I'll call him Pointdexter. That's as close to his real nickname I can get without revealing who he. You know me, I'm striving for total anonymity here.

I've been good friends with Pointdexter since sixth grade. He earned the nickname way back then and it stuck. To this day we still call him that. Check my cell phone and it has Pointdexter on my contact list.

Anyway, I hadn't mentioned him before cause, well, there isn't much to mention about him. His divorce could make for good drama but that's a year stale. No, I mention him now cause the mother fucker loves to text message. I text message most of my friends. It's fun and it's a good way to pass the time while at work. This dude though writes Phd dissertations with his texts. If I hear my phone beep more than once I know it's him and his novel texting. I gets to the point where I either ignore him or tell him I'm with Violet or William. Or that I'm busy at work. Our frined Binks says me and Pointdexter have a regular bromance going. I told Binks that whatever he does don't give Pointdexter his cell number. He said don't worry. I won't since I'm Bink's best friend and I don't have his cell.

Pontdexter makes an interesting entrance here I think. While he's quiet now, he'll drum up some drama later. And that all is good for this little melodrama of mine.

Looks like Dee in Tampa is getting ready to wind up with some new drama. I'm online with her right now and we are chatting about her current boyfriend situation.

Finally a word on the Pope. I get my license restored in exactly three weeks. Three fucking weeks. I'm going insane with anticipation. I'm like a kid waiting for Christmas. You know it's coming, you know exactly when it will be there, the presents are under the tree but you just can't fucking touch them. I know soon enough it will be over.

All right, there's a sandwich or some other food with my name on it some where in the Papal kitchen.

Signing off,
Pope John Paul III