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Tampa Manny 3: Oh Cry Me A River!…And Bring Me A Beer

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It sure is hot today, even by Tampa’s mid-day, asphalt melting standards. Stepping outside is an adventure in deodorant resilience; simple human exhalation is enough to push hot stifling air upwards into one’s own face and steam it like a blue crab. The breeze is non-existent, leaving crisp white undershirts everywhere changed forever. Hard to believe but earlier this morning, it was even hotter in my boss’s office. I am now fully convinced that this Multi-Fula account he has me working on is going to be the death of me. Boy was he maaaaad; his eyes were especially bulgy this time around. My poor hapless sense of self-worth couldn’t stand his barrage of insults, not even for just a while longer. I step out of the office for an early lunch and leave Downtown Tampa for the time being, not sure if I have a job to go back to later. Of one thing I am sure however: I am pooped and in desperate need of recharging. I believe a moment of respite is in order. Naturally, I head straight for Ric...
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Tampa Manny 2: A Streetcar Named Delicious

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I am not happy, okay. This has been one tough week for this poor working stiff. Allow me to elaborate. You see, on Monday I had my car rear-ended on I-275, only to then have it broken into the very next day at a convenience store parking lot over in Hyde Park (in broad daylight no less). Adding insult to injury, on Wednesday while heading east on I-4 the dump truck in front of me kicked up some pebble-sized projectiles that turned my windshield into a Rand-McNally road atlas. Aaaand finally this morning a very slow, unforgiving and never-ending train decided to cross SR 60 and unjustly prolong my commute with an ENDLESS supply of empty cargo cars...twice! (Oh yeah, I should also mention that my elderly mother was arrested in Ybor, a gator ate my teacup poodle dog, and I reeeeally bungled up the Multi-Fula account at work in epic fashion). Needless to say, I desperately need a break or I may not make it to the end of the week. I just need to catch my breath, y’know? Oh, if only I coul...
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Tampa Manny 1: Attack of the Sunday Evening Scaries

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Life can  sooooo  wear on a person, both mentally and emotionally. I find myself once again facing this very familiar mental and emotional anguish as I dolefully watch time fade away from yet another Sunday afternoon. A quick somber glance at the cell phone screen simply confirms my fears that ‘THEY’ have just arrived. ‘THEY’ have remained such longtime, faithful visitors that over time we’ve gotten to know each other quite well, so much so, that I have even named them. Yes it’s true. You may know them as The Sunday Evening Scaries but I’ve dubbed them, almost affectionately, The Sunday  Evening Suckies .    These melancholy feelings of despair choose to lodge in the discouraging moment of gloom that heralds the end of another glorious weekend; their only purpose being to underline and highlight that tomorrow is Monday and that another dreadful, unforgiving work week is rearing up again. I loathe The Sunday End-of-the-Weekend  Suckies  for all their pa...
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