Ants = probable thousands
Us= 32
The battle between us and the ants in our bathroom continues. Last night they released a massive barrage of vicious attacks in the early, early morning. But our defenses held, despite the onslaught.
I discovered that the plastic panel, shower stall lining in our shower, has a gaping hole at the top corner of the plastic. Ants seem to just be crawling right on in.
So I shove a plastic bag in the hole, hoping to block all access... But for some reason the plastic bag blocks most of the hole, but also pushes the hole larger, especially at the very ends of the hole, which get that much wider, enough to allow the teeny-tiny ants through.
Ants still get in.
Even ones with wings...
So I've been killing ants every time I go into the bathroom. I sometimes think about leaving the dead ant-bodies of my victims somewhere near the plastic-bag stuffed hole in my shower, as a warning sign to other ants not to come this way, but then I remembered playing the video game Sim-Ant, (which is a sweet old school game, about running an ant colony. Awesome!) that ants reclaim their fallen comrades, and bring them back to the hill. I could be mistaken, but maybe they eat them, or use them for something... anyway, point is, it wasn't going to work.
And it didn't. So I shoved another plastic bag down there, trying to get into the edges as best I could.
And that didn't work. The little buggers still squeezed through.
So I shoved a q-tip into one side. I don't know why I chose that instrument, but it seemed to work... For now.
So,
Ants = resilient creatures, super-strong for their weight, mandibles, likes my mouthwash...
Me = Two plastic bags, and a Q-tip, to stop (or stall) an advancing army.
...
Tonight was a most awesome, unexpected, totally bizarro night.
Highlights: Laser Tag! Horrible Gas! Making out with the bug lady! Lots of Alcohol! Awesome Eighties jams! P o t!
Too tired to write about it. More tomorrow.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
And its Only Tuesday...
It is officially the worst part of winter, the "Do or Die" stretch of the season. I wanted to die when I woke up this morning. 5-8 more inches of goddamn snow. But I chose do, and waded through the fresh powder on my way to work. All this after three glorious sunny days, chilly, but you could see the frickin' sun, and actual deep blue sky. Then the snow melts a little, and the next day there is so much more of it. This snow will probably melt in three more miserable days, and then snow again. Repeat. Enough to drive you crazy all through March...
Sorry to be such a weather man. I wish I had more interesting topics to discuss.
...
No signs of illness still... fingers are crossed. Thank you for the suggestions for if it really hits me.
...
L. Marge, out of nowhere today, said to me that we should install those cartoon trick stairs, that at a flip of the switch suddenly go flat, making a slide for the victim to fall down. Those fifteen steps I go up and down everyday, like, a lot (tomorrow I'm going to count how many times I go up and down the stairs all day.) that lead to my basement work place.
I cracked up, and totally agreed with her.
I could do so much damage to so many people with that. Awesome!
I am strangely growing fond of L. Marge. She's one tough lady, has seen a lot of shit in her time, and doesn't take none of it. She's quite vocal about her feelings towards the "goddamn, shit, fucking ______" or the "well, that's crazy..." She also purposely leaves the hardest to clean dishes for the PM dish shift. She also tells me what she is cooking for dinner... for the dogs. She also cracked a joke about herself, referencing her "sunny disposition." She also talks out of the side of her mouth. And can get somewhat vulgar, sometimes more so than me and my coworkers. And we can get pretty bad...
...
Oh, and add to the growing list of house ordeals roommate and I have had to go through, that there are now ants everywhere in our bathroom. Don't they hibernate or something? For some reason they seem to enjoy my bottle of mouthwash. Great.
Sorry to be such a weather man. I wish I had more interesting topics to discuss.
...
No signs of illness still... fingers are crossed. Thank you for the suggestions for if it really hits me.
...
L. Marge, out of nowhere today, said to me that we should install those cartoon trick stairs, that at a flip of the switch suddenly go flat, making a slide for the victim to fall down. Those fifteen steps I go up and down everyday, like, a lot (tomorrow I'm going to count how many times I go up and down the stairs all day.) that lead to my basement work place.
I cracked up, and totally agreed with her.
I could do so much damage to so many people with that. Awesome!
I am strangely growing fond of L. Marge. She's one tough lady, has seen a lot of shit in her time, and doesn't take none of it. She's quite vocal about her feelings towards the "goddamn, shit, fucking ______" or the "well, that's crazy..." She also purposely leaves the hardest to clean dishes for the PM dish shift. She also tells me what she is cooking for dinner... for the dogs. She also cracked a joke about herself, referencing her "sunny disposition." She also talks out of the side of her mouth. And can get somewhat vulgar, sometimes more so than me and my coworkers. And we can get pretty bad...
...
Oh, and add to the growing list of house ordeals roommate and I have had to go through, that there are now ants everywhere in our bathroom. Don't they hibernate or something? For some reason they seem to enjoy my bottle of mouthwash. Great.
On Time, On Age, On the Passage of Time and Ages
So either my usual regiment of sickness cure-alls worked their magic (aka whiskey), or else perhaps I suffered from some other sort of ailment, but as of today I feel quite all right. A little slowness, a little grogginess, but otherwise I pronounce myself with a clean bill of health.
Whatever the case may be, I decided I felt well enough to venture out for my usual Monday night excursion, though tonight I chose a different path.
...
Monday nights happen to be my favorite night to go out. Though I'm eternally doomed to work Tuesdays for the rest of eternity, or at least until I find some other form of gainful employment, I still cannot pass up the Monday night.
The pub I used to frequent on these nights has had a drastic change in their drink policies. What used to be a deal, has subsequently become something of a money wringer. While I tend to like supporting local businesses, especially local brewing businesses, I find their recent move towards raising their happy hour prices, and changing their rules on certain "strong" beer pricing and delivery in smaller glasses for the same price, not to be within my budget and tastes. Not to mention their service kind of tends towards the laxer side, which considering the amount of time I've spent in the food service industry typically does not bother me. Its more that the staff seems more intent on the horrific music playing on their I-pods, and fixing their dreadlocks than the beer in my hand...
I've worked some shitty "not known for the service" type of places, and I've also worked for some "insane, over-the-top, quality" service establishments. Either way, I'm just looking to get my cheap-on. As long as I get what I want, when I want, in a somewhat timely manner, I'm ok with it. And I'll definitely tip well. I am one of you.
Anyway, I decided to forgo the pub this evening, and make my way to the The Bar, for some free pool, which is something I used to do on Monday nights ages ago, back when I thought my abilities at pool would bring me something more in this life, much like my capacity to drink...
Oh how sadly we were deceived.
The "coolness" factor of your early twenties matters not towards the latter part of them. Once you are passed your prime, it only seems sad. You become exactly the thing you thought you wouldn't.
Just like when you hung out at the playground, and the big kids would ridicule you, tempt you with cigarettes, make fun of you... and one day you wake up to find that you are suddenly the big kids at the playground, harassing the younger kids, the circle nature of life...
I still remember that day, when Johnguy and I discovered we were the big kids at the park. Or at that Joan of Arc show, when we were ridiculing the teenagers at the show with their backpacks and patches, punk-rock attitude, and bad hair cuts... when we realized we were the old dudes at the show. Like visions of our younger selves, at the Fireside bowl so long ago.
...
I sometimes find myself saying far too often, "back in the day..."
Like tonight, when I found myself as that lone guy at the bar, racking the balls, and half playing a game of pool by myself, no one else around to play against.
Just practicing my game. Shooting around until someone shows up.
Back in the day...
There were a host of Monday night regulars, endless rotations between tables, people yelling out names of the next victims, all of us there for the thrill of the game.
There were the assholes that brought their own pool cues, and acted like hot shit on the table. There were the agro-dudes, that took the game way too seriously. There were the ladies that took their game way too seriously, even though they weren't that good, but somehow they garnered respect, simply because they were ladies, holding their own against the agro-men.
Tonight it was me, and one other guy, someone quite good at their game, and me, relearning the sport that kept me going through a very cold year in Chicago.
...
Time has passed. I found myself with significant other. We opted for the other Monday night festivities that took over the The Bar, and Monday nights with it, Karaoke.
Over two years... Now that I'm at the point in my life that I am at, I find that all three of those things have seemed to pass. Karaoke is gone, hopefully never to be reborn there. I do not mean Karaoke in general, just what it used to mean to me, what it meant to me at the The Bar.
Significant other has gone that way as well.
And it seems all of those people that I used to duel with on the pool table, well, they are seemingly all gone as well. Moved on. Only I remain to document their passing. Or perhaps their absence.
At least the dollar PBR special is still in tact.
My little slice of heaven.
...
And I finally knew this day would come. The website for my source of free movies and TV shows has finally been dealt a nearly fatal blow.
My other source for cheapness, and entertainment, has almost gone under.
I knew this day would come. I just was not expecting it so soon. *sobs*
Even though they didn't fully quite have all of the episodes for Dr. Who and Battlestar Galactica, and Heroes for that matter, I still managed to squeeze off quite a bit of time wasting. I'm forever in your debt.
Whatever the case may be, I decided I felt well enough to venture out for my usual Monday night excursion, though tonight I chose a different path.
...
Monday nights happen to be my favorite night to go out. Though I'm eternally doomed to work Tuesdays for the rest of eternity, or at least until I find some other form of gainful employment, I still cannot pass up the Monday night.
The pub I used to frequent on these nights has had a drastic change in their drink policies. What used to be a deal, has subsequently become something of a money wringer. While I tend to like supporting local businesses, especially local brewing businesses, I find their recent move towards raising their happy hour prices, and changing their rules on certain "strong" beer pricing and delivery in smaller glasses for the same price, not to be within my budget and tastes. Not to mention their service kind of tends towards the laxer side, which considering the amount of time I've spent in the food service industry typically does not bother me. Its more that the staff seems more intent on the horrific music playing on their I-pods, and fixing their dreadlocks than the beer in my hand...
I've worked some shitty "not known for the service" type of places, and I've also worked for some "insane, over-the-top, quality" service establishments. Either way, I'm just looking to get my cheap-on. As long as I get what I want, when I want, in a somewhat timely manner, I'm ok with it. And I'll definitely tip well. I am one of you.
Anyway, I decided to forgo the pub this evening, and make my way to the The Bar, for some free pool, which is something I used to do on Monday nights ages ago, back when I thought my abilities at pool would bring me something more in this life, much like my capacity to drink...
Oh how sadly we were deceived.
The "coolness" factor of your early twenties matters not towards the latter part of them. Once you are passed your prime, it only seems sad. You become exactly the thing you thought you wouldn't.
Just like when you hung out at the playground, and the big kids would ridicule you, tempt you with cigarettes, make fun of you... and one day you wake up to find that you are suddenly the big kids at the playground, harassing the younger kids, the circle nature of life...
I still remember that day, when Johnguy and I discovered we were the big kids at the park. Or at that Joan of Arc show, when we were ridiculing the teenagers at the show with their backpacks and patches, punk-rock attitude, and bad hair cuts... when we realized we were the old dudes at the show. Like visions of our younger selves, at the Fireside bowl so long ago.
...
I sometimes find myself saying far too often, "back in the day..."
Like tonight, when I found myself as that lone guy at the bar, racking the balls, and half playing a game of pool by myself, no one else around to play against.
Just practicing my game. Shooting around until someone shows up.
Back in the day...
There were a host of Monday night regulars, endless rotations between tables, people yelling out names of the next victims, all of us there for the thrill of the game.
There were the assholes that brought their own pool cues, and acted like hot shit on the table. There were the agro-dudes, that took the game way too seriously. There were the ladies that took their game way too seriously, even though they weren't that good, but somehow they garnered respect, simply because they were ladies, holding their own against the agro-men.
Tonight it was me, and one other guy, someone quite good at their game, and me, relearning the sport that kept me going through a very cold year in Chicago.
...
Time has passed. I found myself with significant other. We opted for the other Monday night festivities that took over the The Bar, and Monday nights with it, Karaoke.
Over two years... Now that I'm at the point in my life that I am at, I find that all three of those things have seemed to pass. Karaoke is gone, hopefully never to be reborn there. I do not mean Karaoke in general, just what it used to mean to me, what it meant to me at the The Bar.
Significant other has gone that way as well.
And it seems all of those people that I used to duel with on the pool table, well, they are seemingly all gone as well. Moved on. Only I remain to document their passing. Or perhaps their absence.
At least the dollar PBR special is still in tact.
My little slice of heaven.
...
And I finally knew this day would come. The website for my source of free movies and TV shows has finally been dealt a nearly fatal blow.
My other source for cheapness, and entertainment, has almost gone under.
I knew this day would come. I just was not expecting it so soon. *sobs*
Even though they didn't fully quite have all of the episodes for Dr. Who and Battlestar Galactica, and Heroes for that matter, I still managed to squeeze off quite a bit of time wasting. I'm forever in your debt.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Sick Boy
I was preparing myself a spot of tea, sometime in the evening. Suddenly I became lightheaded, so I sat down in the rocking chair, hoping the feeling would pass. Then the cold began, my body shivering uncontrollably, my teeth chattering, despite it actually not being so cold for once.
I put on a sweater and lay in bed under the blankets, watching a movie on my laptop, the laptop on my chest providing slight warmth, though the cold simply would not subside.
After the movie ended, I attempted to sleep. I could feel my chest exploding with heat, though the core of my body felt icy cold. Then I began to sweat uncontrollably. After ten minutes I had to switch positions on my bed, because my blankets became waterlogged, and then the cold set in. I rolled around like this for much of the night, in between switching sides on the bed I had some amazing fever dreams, dreams of vivid mountain landscapes, an airplane that had no walls and you could look over the edge and see the world below, going skiing down an incredible mountain, though the snow was melting...
I've been pretty lucky this season, dodging most of the colds and such going around. I guess I was due to get sick. But ugh, not like this. I'm just amazed at how quickly it hit, suddenly out of no where, and bam, I'm down.
I had one brief excursion today, otherwise I've been in bed all day long.
I needed to gather my sick supplies, which consist of Maker's Mark for the hot toddies, and Chinese food, namely the Hot and Sour soup, cause that stuff does wonders. Otherwise its bed rest for me, and lots and lots of movies, and or video games. One of the few times I don't feel as guilty about playing video games, is when I'm sick. My mental capacity can't exactly handle much more stimulation.
I just pray I can get a decent night's sleep. I felt like I was practically swimming through my sheets. Ugh!
...
I heard birds chirping this morning. I had almost forgot what they sounded like. This gave me hope, hope that spring will be here soon. The birds must know something that I do not. Even though it probably won't really get all that warm until May, some days that is all the push I need, the telltale signs that winter's cold grip is releasing.
Every day we get about six more seconds of day light. That is a good thing.
I put on a sweater and lay in bed under the blankets, watching a movie on my laptop, the laptop on my chest providing slight warmth, though the cold simply would not subside.
After the movie ended, I attempted to sleep. I could feel my chest exploding with heat, though the core of my body felt icy cold. Then I began to sweat uncontrollably. After ten minutes I had to switch positions on my bed, because my blankets became waterlogged, and then the cold set in. I rolled around like this for much of the night, in between switching sides on the bed I had some amazing fever dreams, dreams of vivid mountain landscapes, an airplane that had no walls and you could look over the edge and see the world below, going skiing down an incredible mountain, though the snow was melting...
I've been pretty lucky this season, dodging most of the colds and such going around. I guess I was due to get sick. But ugh, not like this. I'm just amazed at how quickly it hit, suddenly out of no where, and bam, I'm down.
I had one brief excursion today, otherwise I've been in bed all day long.
I needed to gather my sick supplies, which consist of Maker's Mark for the hot toddies, and Chinese food, namely the Hot and Sour soup, cause that stuff does wonders. Otherwise its bed rest for me, and lots and lots of movies, and or video games. One of the few times I don't feel as guilty about playing video games, is when I'm sick. My mental capacity can't exactly handle much more stimulation.
I just pray I can get a decent night's sleep. I felt like I was practically swimming through my sheets. Ugh!
...
I heard birds chirping this morning. I had almost forgot what they sounded like. This gave me hope, hope that spring will be here soon. The birds must know something that I do not. Even though it probably won't really get all that warm until May, some days that is all the push I need, the telltale signs that winter's cold grip is releasing.
Every day we get about six more seconds of day light. That is a good thing.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Dark Side of the Moon
Also, please check out the lunar eclipse tonight, in an hour or so. Its gonna be sweet!
Hot Dogs Give Me Strength to Fight My Demons
As I unloaded the milk crate of frozen lamb into the cambro of water, as I took out the last package of meat, I discovered two hot dogs, forlornly freezer-burned and sadly out of place. How they got there, I do not know. But I did know exactly what to do with them.
It wasn't enough to simply go around the kitchen, tapping unsuspecting co-workers on the shoulder with a frozen hot dog, a rather large bulbous hot dog, so when they turn their heads they come face to face with said hot dog. My childish sense of humor, which knows no bounds, demanded something more.
Thanks in part to my co-workers' similar childish tastes, we decided to plant hot dogs in various places around our establishment. The giant meat pot, the dishwasher's sinks, the sausage mixture I was making that day, inside of the roasting chickens, the dishwasher's gloves, inside the robot coupe... we went a little overboard. But we also spent the entire day cracking up hysterically every time someone made a new hot dog "discovery." Specifically L. Marge, who bore the brunt of the hot dog "discoveries," swearing worse than a sailor each time, vowing to get us back, or to stick those hot dogs in places on our bodies where they should not go.
I can honestly say I had one of the most enjoyable work days I've had in a long time, all thanks to the hot dog.
...
We are, of course, they same group of childish late-twenty something men that for a good month or so would draw little tiny "cock and balls" in various places around the establishment.
exceedingly immature: very.
F-ing hilarious: completely.
Especially on the day of the health inspection, when one of the managers came over to me while escorting the inspector around the basement, and whispering, asked me to relabel a certain item that was merely labeled with a rather large representation of the male anatomy.
...
Today has been a productive day off. I managed to visit the Secretary of State's office to renew my license. Though I had a little bit of a dilemma, in whether or not to shave off the mutton chops (which I have neglected to trim, so they appear quite fierce indeed), or to keep them for my new photo.
You see, my license has had the same picture for the last ten years. A slightly disturbing representation of myself, a younger me, a somewhat misguided me, that appears to be wearing a hemp necklace that some hippy made me years ago. Also this photo has the first incarnation of my trademarked mutton chops, which sort of has slightly vexed me over the years.
Typically I get two responses when I show my ID. The first being, "Whoa dude! Sweet chops!" The second being, "is this really you?" Assuming I had to fake my ID, I do not think this type of facial hair would be the most convincing manner in which to do it.
So I did it anyway. It is too early to shave off my chops. Besides, they give me power. The tradition must live on. I mean, license photos are supposed to look like shit, so why not have a little fun with it, have some choice in the matter?
...
Otherwise, dancing this weekend was a complete success. I had oodles of fun and actually danced with no shame in my game. I've made a couple new dude friends, who according to other friends consider me a cool dude as well.
And I'm pleased to say that I have my first editing/writing job lined up... well, ok, its not technically an actual job. Its more of an assignment, and its for a friend who is putting together a cook book, an amazing cook book that I will go into more detail about a little later. She's also going to give me credit for reading it over. Though I have to admit I gotta brush the dust off my grammar and editing skills, because I haven't used them in quite some time. (Any one who reads this blog can probably attest to that).
It wasn't enough to simply go around the kitchen, tapping unsuspecting co-workers on the shoulder with a frozen hot dog, a rather large bulbous hot dog, so when they turn their heads they come face to face with said hot dog. My childish sense of humor, which knows no bounds, demanded something more.
Thanks in part to my co-workers' similar childish tastes, we decided to plant hot dogs in various places around our establishment. The giant meat pot, the dishwasher's sinks, the sausage mixture I was making that day, inside of the roasting chickens, the dishwasher's gloves, inside the robot coupe... we went a little overboard. But we also spent the entire day cracking up hysterically every time someone made a new hot dog "discovery." Specifically L. Marge, who bore the brunt of the hot dog "discoveries," swearing worse than a sailor each time, vowing to get us back, or to stick those hot dogs in places on our bodies where they should not go.
I can honestly say I had one of the most enjoyable work days I've had in a long time, all thanks to the hot dog.
...
We are, of course, they same group of childish late-twenty something men that for a good month or so would draw little tiny "cock and balls" in various places around the establishment.
exceedingly immature: very.
F-ing hilarious: completely.
Especially on the day of the health inspection, when one of the managers came over to me while escorting the inspector around the basement, and whispering, asked me to relabel a certain item that was merely labeled with a rather large representation of the male anatomy.
...
Today has been a productive day off. I managed to visit the Secretary of State's office to renew my license. Though I had a little bit of a dilemma, in whether or not to shave off the mutton chops (which I have neglected to trim, so they appear quite fierce indeed), or to keep them for my new photo.
You see, my license has had the same picture for the last ten years. A slightly disturbing representation of myself, a younger me, a somewhat misguided me, that appears to be wearing a hemp necklace that some hippy made me years ago. Also this photo has the first incarnation of my trademarked mutton chops, which sort of has slightly vexed me over the years.
Typically I get two responses when I show my ID. The first being, "Whoa dude! Sweet chops!" The second being, "is this really you?" Assuming I had to fake my ID, I do not think this type of facial hair would be the most convincing manner in which to do it.
So I did it anyway. It is too early to shave off my chops. Besides, they give me power. The tradition must live on. I mean, license photos are supposed to look like shit, so why not have a little fun with it, have some choice in the matter?
...
Otherwise, dancing this weekend was a complete success. I had oodles of fun and actually danced with no shame in my game. I've made a couple new dude friends, who according to other friends consider me a cool dude as well.
And I'm pleased to say that I have my first editing/writing job lined up... well, ok, its not technically an actual job. Its more of an assignment, and its for a friend who is putting together a cook book, an amazing cook book that I will go into more detail about a little later. She's also going to give me credit for reading it over. Though I have to admit I gotta brush the dust off my grammar and editing skills, because I haven't used them in quite some time. (Any one who reads this blog can probably attest to that).
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Chocolate, Dudes, Beer
For some reason chocolate makes me sneeze. Usually after the first bite, I feel it well up in my sinuses, and then achoo. Not that its particularly troublesome. Only recently have I discovered a new found taste for things chocolate. Though I still tend to avoid most candies and sweets.
I did rather enjoy the chocolate people were handing out on Valentine's day. Loads of Hershey's Kisses, and the little Dove dark chocolate pieces, that had ridiculous sayings on the insides of the foil wrappers.
The first one I opened read, "Go to your special place," which made me chuckle to myself, and I thought, "heh, that's where I keep the bodies." So I hung it on the clip that holds my recipes.
...
I have decided I need a new bro-mance. Similar to a man-crush, just a dude to hang out with and get drunk with. Bitch about girls with, tell drunken stories to, hang out and do stuff with. Much like a friend, I suppose. A dude that if we were both gay would probably most likely get with each other...
My last bro-mance ended rather badly; He went slightly insane, started to drink a little too much more than our normal level of intoxication, and literally would pass out at the bar, head down on the table, or would stand there wobbling like a bobble-head, looking as if he were about to drop at any second. He also started to alienate all of us, throwing popcorn around, punching people in the face, acting obnoxious.
We took turns babysitting him, and finally it reached a breaking point, where we all stopped hanging out with him. He moved away shortly after that, with his girlfriend, who none of us really cared for anyway...
I still miss him in some ways.
...
I went to the The Bar on Valentine's day. Granted its pretty much the most unromantic place I could think of, which I was definitely going for. I was also wondering if there would be acts of desperation, people flocking there because they were alone and it seemed like a good place to meet and hook-up with someone...
Surprisingly there was an odd assortment of couples there.
I ended up chatting with a fellow that works at the The Bar, who is actually a really rad dude, and I think I may have found my first candidate for a bro-mance. I mean, he bought me shots. A lot of them, and I quite literally stumbled out of there, cuz those shots snuck up on me rather quietly, and suddenly it was time to go.
...
Tonight I think I shall attempt the going dancing thing again, though the likelihood of the ex-factor is fairly high, again. This time, however, I shall avoid certain substances, and try not to drink as much. Especially before going to the bar. Don't want to repeat that last time. No can do.
I'm feeling tons and tons better this week. My upset stomach seems to have lessened considerably, and I'm feeling more confident, and am actually smiling now and again. I mean, its the dead of winter, and I'm feeling like a human being again.
I did rather enjoy the chocolate people were handing out on Valentine's day. Loads of Hershey's Kisses, and the little Dove dark chocolate pieces, that had ridiculous sayings on the insides of the foil wrappers.
The first one I opened read, "Go to your special place," which made me chuckle to myself, and I thought, "heh, that's where I keep the bodies." So I hung it on the clip that holds my recipes.
...
I have decided I need a new bro-mance. Similar to a man-crush, just a dude to hang out with and get drunk with. Bitch about girls with, tell drunken stories to, hang out and do stuff with. Much like a friend, I suppose. A dude that if we were both gay would probably most likely get with each other...
My last bro-mance ended rather badly; He went slightly insane, started to drink a little too much more than our normal level of intoxication, and literally would pass out at the bar, head down on the table, or would stand there wobbling like a bobble-head, looking as if he were about to drop at any second. He also started to alienate all of us, throwing popcorn around, punching people in the face, acting obnoxious.
We took turns babysitting him, and finally it reached a breaking point, where we all stopped hanging out with him. He moved away shortly after that, with his girlfriend, who none of us really cared for anyway...
I still miss him in some ways.
...
I went to the The Bar on Valentine's day. Granted its pretty much the most unromantic place I could think of, which I was definitely going for. I was also wondering if there would be acts of desperation, people flocking there because they were alone and it seemed like a good place to meet and hook-up with someone...
Surprisingly there was an odd assortment of couples there.
I ended up chatting with a fellow that works at the The Bar, who is actually a really rad dude, and I think I may have found my first candidate for a bro-mance. I mean, he bought me shots. A lot of them, and I quite literally stumbled out of there, cuz those shots snuck up on me rather quietly, and suddenly it was time to go.
...
Tonight I think I shall attempt the going dancing thing again, though the likelihood of the ex-factor is fairly high, again. This time, however, I shall avoid certain substances, and try not to drink as much. Especially before going to the bar. Don't want to repeat that last time. No can do.
I'm feeling tons and tons better this week. My upset stomach seems to have lessened considerably, and I'm feeling more confident, and am actually smiling now and again. I mean, its the dead of winter, and I'm feeling like a human being again.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
My Grandpa was a Professional Bowler
The roommate and I just got back from an excursion to the bowling alley. She was supposed to be meeting some people there, from one of her classes, and invited me along because she needed some sort of back-up. She also mentioned the guy to girl ratio of the class to be about 1 to 15, men to ladies, and that it'd probably be a good experience for me.
I laughed.
As we stepped into the bowling alley, immediately my senses were inundated with the type of stimulus that only bowling alleys can provide. Open spaces, yet there is definite territory, unseen, yet established. Then the noise, the crack of balls on pins, the bad radio music, the talking. And then smoke, and the smell of beer. There's something so strange to me about bowling alleys.
There were many people there, mostly college aged, perhaps some a bit younger. Yet all seemed to possess the air of people who belonged in this bowling alley, found comfort in bowling alleys, their social scenes, where they go to hang out. This is what we do on Wednesday night... I never really found this form of social entertainment very suitable for me. Though I certainly haven't minded the few bowling outings I've gone on. Most happened to coincide with either work parties, or lots of alcohol, and I figure this is a sport I can endorse, one that sort of begets drinking, and smoking, and its a sport.
Still, I was a stranger in a strange land, and I knew this fact. (These people can smell fear!) After a brief walk through of the place, Roommate could not find the group we were to meet up with, so we headed inside the bar to grab a drink, our only defense against the fact we were not in our element.
We sat there with our beers and discussed such things as money, and winning the lottery, and how that would and wouldn't change us if we were lucky to have won. What we would do if suddenly we found ourselves freed from the world of crappy day jobs, the confines of being poor.
She would buy real estate, and probably start a business of some sort, and devote lots of time to art, and photography. I would probably buy a large house, just so friends could come and either live with me, or stop in from time to time. Some place warm year round. Somewhat remote, but near enough to a city. Beyond that, I don't know what I would do. Probably not much more than I do now. Except I'd have lots of toys, expensive crap, a nice tv, but I probably wouldn't enjoy it much. Maybe have it around for company and such.
Around us the regulars hung around the bar. I found myself wondering about all of these people, these people that frequent this bowling alley bar; this is their The Bar, their hang-out, their Cheers... The roommate and I would stop talking in mid sentence at times, entranced by a sudden ongoing narrative that we couldn't help but eavesdrop in on. Stories of tax fraud. Work. An angry drunk man, seemingly just angry, taking it out on people around him. A guy with a mustache talking loudly, laughing at his own jokes...
I wanted then, to know who these people were. To hear their stories, to see what drives them, to know their misery, their reason for laughter and love, what makes them go on in this world...
...
We then vowed to hang out at a bowling alley bar, just to drink at a bowling alley bar, to say we did that. Even though we did do it. The class people we were to meet, had come to the bowling alley, found it full of people, and left for another alley across town. Sorry ladies, no Gaius for you tonight.
This prompted me to remember Chicago, and all the old man Polish bars that scattered the neighborhood where I used to work, the ones I always wanted to go drink at, but never did because I felt like I'd be invading their world for some reason. That it would just be novelty for me.
I really just wanted to meet the old Polish men, get them to tell me a story or something. And to drink beer, of course.
Which reminds me, I never did go drink at Rite Liquors (on my old to-do list I had in Chicago), one of the seediest places I can remember in Chicago. A liquor store with a bar in it! And a pool table. And really cheap tobacco. And very sketchy peoples there.
...
Though I secretly wish we had gone to the other bowling alley.
Not to meet the ladies, but to hang out in that bar. They have karaoke there, and its a very, very, I repeat, very strange mix of regulars that do karaoke there. From what I remember.
And for some reason I just recalled Valentines day from a long time ago, an old girlfriend that I took to the bowling alley for Valentines Day, because I didn't want to have a traditional VD date. We bowled awkwardly, and then attempted Karaoke.
I requested Sweet Caroline, an old fave of mine. The MC came to our table looking all forlorn, and told me that someone else had already picked them song, so I made up a story about how my girlfriend's name was Caroline (it wasn't) and that it was our song (it wasn't), and its Valentine's day, so...
Still, she couldn't say yes to me, and she obviously felt bad, which made me feel bad, and she apologized profusely. I don't like to lie, even if it was meant to impress the girl I was with at the time...
...
So here's to you bowling alleys. Such strange, strange worlds to me.
I laughed.
As we stepped into the bowling alley, immediately my senses were inundated with the type of stimulus that only bowling alleys can provide. Open spaces, yet there is definite territory, unseen, yet established. Then the noise, the crack of balls on pins, the bad radio music, the talking. And then smoke, and the smell of beer. There's something so strange to me about bowling alleys.
There were many people there, mostly college aged, perhaps some a bit younger. Yet all seemed to possess the air of people who belonged in this bowling alley, found comfort in bowling alleys, their social scenes, where they go to hang out. This is what we do on Wednesday night... I never really found this form of social entertainment very suitable for me. Though I certainly haven't minded the few bowling outings I've gone on. Most happened to coincide with either work parties, or lots of alcohol, and I figure this is a sport I can endorse, one that sort of begets drinking, and smoking, and its a sport.
Still, I was a stranger in a strange land, and I knew this fact. (These people can smell fear!) After a brief walk through of the place, Roommate could not find the group we were to meet up with, so we headed inside the bar to grab a drink, our only defense against the fact we were not in our element.
We sat there with our beers and discussed such things as money, and winning the lottery, and how that would and wouldn't change us if we were lucky to have won. What we would do if suddenly we found ourselves freed from the world of crappy day jobs, the confines of being poor.
She would buy real estate, and probably start a business of some sort, and devote lots of time to art, and photography. I would probably buy a large house, just so friends could come and either live with me, or stop in from time to time. Some place warm year round. Somewhat remote, but near enough to a city. Beyond that, I don't know what I would do. Probably not much more than I do now. Except I'd have lots of toys, expensive crap, a nice tv, but I probably wouldn't enjoy it much. Maybe have it around for company and such.
Around us the regulars hung around the bar. I found myself wondering about all of these people, these people that frequent this bowling alley bar; this is their The Bar, their hang-out, their Cheers... The roommate and I would stop talking in mid sentence at times, entranced by a sudden ongoing narrative that we couldn't help but eavesdrop in on. Stories of tax fraud. Work. An angry drunk man, seemingly just angry, taking it out on people around him. A guy with a mustache talking loudly, laughing at his own jokes...
I wanted then, to know who these people were. To hear their stories, to see what drives them, to know their misery, their reason for laughter and love, what makes them go on in this world...
...
We then vowed to hang out at a bowling alley bar, just to drink at a bowling alley bar, to say we did that. Even though we did do it. The class people we were to meet, had come to the bowling alley, found it full of people, and left for another alley across town. Sorry ladies, no Gaius for you tonight.
This prompted me to remember Chicago, and all the old man Polish bars that scattered the neighborhood where I used to work, the ones I always wanted to go drink at, but never did because I felt like I'd be invading their world for some reason. That it would just be novelty for me.
I really just wanted to meet the old Polish men, get them to tell me a story or something. And to drink beer, of course.
Which reminds me, I never did go drink at Rite Liquors (on my old to-do list I had in Chicago), one of the seediest places I can remember in Chicago. A liquor store with a bar in it! And a pool table. And really cheap tobacco. And very sketchy peoples there.
...
Though I secretly wish we had gone to the other bowling alley.
Not to meet the ladies, but to hang out in that bar. They have karaoke there, and its a very, very, I repeat, very strange mix of regulars that do karaoke there. From what I remember.
And for some reason I just recalled Valentines day from a long time ago, an old girlfriend that I took to the bowling alley for Valentines Day, because I didn't want to have a traditional VD date. We bowled awkwardly, and then attempted Karaoke.
I requested Sweet Caroline, an old fave of mine. The MC came to our table looking all forlorn, and told me that someone else had already picked them song, so I made up a story about how my girlfriend's name was Caroline (it wasn't) and that it was our song (it wasn't), and its Valentine's day, so...
Still, she couldn't say yes to me, and she obviously felt bad, which made me feel bad, and she apologized profusely. I don't like to lie, even if it was meant to impress the girl I was with at the time...
...
So here's to you bowling alleys. Such strange, strange worlds to me.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I Want to be a Time Lord
Hey gang. Let me introduce you to the month of February, my least favorite one, the one we like to call, "the Deal Breaker."
February is home to many great events and holidays, such as the ever popular President's day (my personal fave is CC, that's Calvin Coolidge to you, sucka!), and that other Hallmark nationally sponsored day of disgust, Valentine's Day, in which according to this culture, one must either:
A. Utterly bemoan one's fate and endlessly stress over the fact they are currently not in a relationship, feel sorry for one's self, wear all black, etc. Or,
B. Utterly bemoan one's fate and endlessly stress over what to do for the person they are currently in a relationship with, usually resulting in some sort of flashy display that the person's significant other will then gush over and compare with their friend's over whose mate had the best gift, gesture of love, etc, which basically all boils down to how much money someone spent on someone else.
We here are not bitter one bit. Nope. Never cared for VD much to begin with, in or out of a relationship, and especially not now. In the last few days I've actually been feeling quite splendid about being single. To me, it shall be just another day.
Besides, why set aside one day of the year to celebrate one's mate. Me thinks if you're truly in love with someone, that it should be celebrated pretty much every day. That goes for the sexin' up part of things to.
But I digress.
...
February is also known to possess the most wonderful of weather patterns, fully showing the grace and beauty of Mother Nature's Winter season. If by "wonderful" you mean "Oh my god it is so dark and gray I would like to kill myself now," and "weather patterns" to mean "endless, very short days of endless, overcast cloud cover, and sleet, snow storms and ice, and maybe if we're lucky we'll see the sun for about ten seconds one day towards the end of the month, if I make it that far..."
Especially if one resides in Michigan. We are currently in the midst of our fourth (?) major snow storm, getting around 6-8 inches of snow. All this after the coldest night ever that happened a couple nights ago, where the temperature fell below zero, and with wind chill, hovered like death around the -25 degree mark. That night happening after the amazing rain, sleet, ice, finally snow storm the day before that, rendering all roads completely screwed, and reportedly the fine city I reside in has officially run out of salt to dump on the roads.
There are times when I'm glad I do not possess a vehicle.
...
Luckily February is also the shortest month of the year. Sorry Black History Month, you guys get the shaft once again.
Except for Leap Year! Leap Year totally rocks! Where we pull an extra day from out of a hat and throw it on the end of the shittiest month. Here's one more day of hell for you!
Actually I'm well aware of the odd little quirks about our calendar, and am actually glad for it, because thanks to Leap year, somehow this month of dread turned out to be a three paycheck month. Cha-Ching! In your face February! That and people born on February 29th, if they happen to be 28, they are legally, technically, in fact only seven years old.
Hooray for February! I only want to know why we spell February with an "r" after the "b," when no one actually pronounces it.
...
Well, despite the weather, I'm feeling ok for once. My friend told me of a super awesome website that will probably be shut down at some point soon, where you can watch movies and tv shows for free. I've been on said website pretty much all of my free time, currently watching the entire Dr Who series (the newish one), which is fantastical and supremely rad (and British!), and also making this guy extremely happy almost to the point of tears, that show is so good.
Though I did manage to pull myself away for a couple nights out to the bar to drink entirely way too much til way too late in the morning, celebrating the leaving of yet another awesome citizen of this town, who shall be missed greatly.
I almost bought her car, the implications of which astounded me greatly, like, that I'd even consider buying a car, almost entirely on a whim. Sadly, the vehicle was not in the best shape, and is a manual (I can't drive stick. Hardly at all.) and is prone to stall out for no reason while on the road. Price wise a good choice, but overall not the best choice for me, considering I've never owned a car. Though she did convince me this vehicle would get me to Texas, but probably not much further.
Other things I've almost accomplished in the last week: Almost had band practice tonight, but everyone is feeling crappy, so no. Almost cleaned my room. Almost took a shower. Almost updated this blog. Almost attended the "Dirty Show" in Detroit, a festival of crazy people and their creative acts of sex, or sexual related something or other, which if I had gone, I almost would have seen lots of live boobies. Sigh. And almost flirted with a girl at the bar. She's either sending me signals I cannot interpret, or not sending signals at all and just being her friendly self. I can never figure it out. Usually they have to beat me over the head with it.
Anyway, if any one needs me, I'll be in the Tardis, with my sonic screwdriver, running away from the Daleks.
Um, that's nerd speak for watching more Dr. Who.
February is home to many great events and holidays, such as the ever popular President's day (my personal fave is CC, that's Calvin Coolidge to you, sucka!), and that other Hallmark nationally sponsored day of disgust, Valentine's Day, in which according to this culture, one must either:
A. Utterly bemoan one's fate and endlessly stress over the fact they are currently not in a relationship, feel sorry for one's self, wear all black, etc. Or,
B. Utterly bemoan one's fate and endlessly stress over what to do for the person they are currently in a relationship with, usually resulting in some sort of flashy display that the person's significant other will then gush over and compare with their friend's over whose mate had the best gift, gesture of love, etc, which basically all boils down to how much money someone spent on someone else.
We here are not bitter one bit. Nope. Never cared for VD much to begin with, in or out of a relationship, and especially not now. In the last few days I've actually been feeling quite splendid about being single. To me, it shall be just another day.
Besides, why set aside one day of the year to celebrate one's mate. Me thinks if you're truly in love with someone, that it should be celebrated pretty much every day. That goes for the sexin' up part of things to.
But I digress.
...
February is also known to possess the most wonderful of weather patterns, fully showing the grace and beauty of Mother Nature's Winter season. If by "wonderful" you mean "Oh my god it is so dark and gray I would like to kill myself now," and "weather patterns" to mean "endless, very short days of endless, overcast cloud cover, and sleet, snow storms and ice, and maybe if we're lucky we'll see the sun for about ten seconds one day towards the end of the month, if I make it that far..."
Especially if one resides in Michigan. We are currently in the midst of our fourth (?) major snow storm, getting around 6-8 inches of snow. All this after the coldest night ever that happened a couple nights ago, where the temperature fell below zero, and with wind chill, hovered like death around the -25 degree mark. That night happening after the amazing rain, sleet, ice, finally snow storm the day before that, rendering all roads completely screwed, and reportedly the fine city I reside in has officially run out of salt to dump on the roads.
There are times when I'm glad I do not possess a vehicle.
...
Luckily February is also the shortest month of the year. Sorry Black History Month, you guys get the shaft once again.
Except for Leap Year! Leap Year totally rocks! Where we pull an extra day from out of a hat and throw it on the end of the shittiest month. Here's one more day of hell for you!
Actually I'm well aware of the odd little quirks about our calendar, and am actually glad for it, because thanks to Leap year, somehow this month of dread turned out to be a three paycheck month. Cha-Ching! In your face February! That and people born on February 29th, if they happen to be 28, they are legally, technically, in fact only seven years old.
Hooray for February! I only want to know why we spell February with an "r" after the "b," when no one actually pronounces it.
...
Well, despite the weather, I'm feeling ok for once. My friend told me of a super awesome website that will probably be shut down at some point soon, where you can watch movies and tv shows for free. I've been on said website pretty much all of my free time, currently watching the entire Dr Who series (the newish one), which is fantastical and supremely rad (and British!), and also making this guy extremely happy almost to the point of tears, that show is so good.
Though I did manage to pull myself away for a couple nights out to the bar to drink entirely way too much til way too late in the morning, celebrating the leaving of yet another awesome citizen of this town, who shall be missed greatly.
I almost bought her car, the implications of which astounded me greatly, like, that I'd even consider buying a car, almost entirely on a whim. Sadly, the vehicle was not in the best shape, and is a manual (I can't drive stick. Hardly at all.) and is prone to stall out for no reason while on the road. Price wise a good choice, but overall not the best choice for me, considering I've never owned a car. Though she did convince me this vehicle would get me to Texas, but probably not much further.
Other things I've almost accomplished in the last week: Almost had band practice tonight, but everyone is feeling crappy, so no. Almost cleaned my room. Almost took a shower. Almost updated this blog. Almost attended the "Dirty Show" in Detroit, a festival of crazy people and their creative acts of sex, or sexual related something or other, which if I had gone, I almost would have seen lots of live boobies. Sigh. And almost flirted with a girl at the bar. She's either sending me signals I cannot interpret, or not sending signals at all and just being her friendly self. I can never figure it out. Usually they have to beat me over the head with it.
Anyway, if any one needs me, I'll be in the Tardis, with my sonic screwdriver, running away from the Daleks.
Um, that's nerd speak for watching more Dr. Who.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Dude Went Nuts
I'll admit, its the great puffy snow, falling steadily outside of my house, and its even harder to admit that I find it quite beautiful right now. Despite this, this is February, the hardest bleakest month of the winter to get through, and its been gray for days. Despite the fact that the now falling pretty snow earlier in the day was half ice and water, balls of sleet pelting the roads, ice waiting to form over everything.
I half expected the heat to not be working in the house, but it is, thankfully... Because it wasn't that way in the workplace for the last two days, and probably won't be fixed until tomorrow. I'm used to wearing long johns under my shirts, and a sleeveless hoody. (I'm a fashion pioneer. Also in my portfolio - the double hoody, one to wear up and the other to wear down. And I'm still a prep cook...) Add a scarf and a winter hat. It felt like I was working in the walk-in refrigerator all day.
...
At band practice last night, my old roommate came home, the one I call "Zee German" because he's very proud of his heritage. Also very anal retentive and emotionally unsound. Like, way more than I could ever hope to be... and proceeded to go utterly apeshit over the fact he had had a bad date.
Some back story: We used to have numerous house meetings dedicated to the many problems he found with the other three of us' lifestyles. Most involved general cleaning of the house, which he often undertook himself due to the fact he couldn't stand the slightest bit of mess. I'll admit I can be quite a slob, but its usually contained within my own room. And while I've conquered my resentment of washing dishes, I still have a hard time cleaning the bathroom. But if you got someone as anal as him, well, why should I clean if he's just going to do it every week. Every week.
Not to mention the cats, which bothered the hell out of him. Couldn't stand the little beasts, and though I kind of sided with him a little bit, (the great worm and flea infestation of 06' sealed the deal. It forever drove a wedge between the cats and I.) I still got a little upset when he suggested getting rid of the cats, and used the term "final solution" in the same sentence. Knowing his background, I kept my eye on the kitchen oven for a while.
Also he sometimes spazzes out completely, usually in a destructive manner, which usually involves kicking chairs, throwing small appliances (broke my old microwave, and the vaccum cleaner) and loud yelling.
And so: He came into the house as we were finishing our practice, and immediately went on a rampage (as he's prone to do) and decided to kick a stool against the wall, and throw a pair of scissors against a wall, full force... I decided to take the time to clean up our beer bottles, just in case he went for those. And then decided to launch into a huge tirade about women and the pointlessness of even trying to be in a relationship.
Dude had one bad date, not even a really bad one, it just got interrupted by the girl's ex, who happened to have called during it... Ok, not cool really, but still.
I'm sitting there thinking, well, shit, congrats to you for getting the nerve up to actually go on a date with someone. Even if the girl probably had some leftover shit to deal with from her last relationship, which she apparently told you about, and you still went out with her... What did you expect? Not to mention your audience is pretty unforgiving, especially me, having gone through a huge breakup/disengagement, which I've been pretty upset about, but not to the point of breaking shit. Especially over one date. WTF?
Sorry pal, not going to feel all that bad about it.
In fact, made me feel pretty good about myself.
I mean, I know I got some emotional problems, but damn, they ain't so bad...
...
And in other news I'm thinking about going to the doctor again. My stomach's been pretty messed up lately, and it just doesn't seem to be going away. It just feels like a low kind of burning, though not all that painful, just constant kind of grinding...
I half expected the heat to not be working in the house, but it is, thankfully... Because it wasn't that way in the workplace for the last two days, and probably won't be fixed until tomorrow. I'm used to wearing long johns under my shirts, and a sleeveless hoody. (I'm a fashion pioneer. Also in my portfolio - the double hoody, one to wear up and the other to wear down. And I'm still a prep cook...) Add a scarf and a winter hat. It felt like I was working in the walk-in refrigerator all day.
...
At band practice last night, my old roommate came home, the one I call "Zee German" because he's very proud of his heritage. Also very anal retentive and emotionally unsound. Like, way more than I could ever hope to be... and proceeded to go utterly apeshit over the fact he had had a bad date.
Some back story: We used to have numerous house meetings dedicated to the many problems he found with the other three of us' lifestyles. Most involved general cleaning of the house, which he often undertook himself due to the fact he couldn't stand the slightest bit of mess. I'll admit I can be quite a slob, but its usually contained within my own room. And while I've conquered my resentment of washing dishes, I still have a hard time cleaning the bathroom. But if you got someone as anal as him, well, why should I clean if he's just going to do it every week. Every week.
Not to mention the cats, which bothered the hell out of him. Couldn't stand the little beasts, and though I kind of sided with him a little bit, (the great worm and flea infestation of 06' sealed the deal. It forever drove a wedge between the cats and I.) I still got a little upset when he suggested getting rid of the cats, and used the term "final solution" in the same sentence. Knowing his background, I kept my eye on the kitchen oven for a while.
Also he sometimes spazzes out completely, usually in a destructive manner, which usually involves kicking chairs, throwing small appliances (broke my old microwave, and the vaccum cleaner) and loud yelling.
And so: He came into the house as we were finishing our practice, and immediately went on a rampage (as he's prone to do) and decided to kick a stool against the wall, and throw a pair of scissors against a wall, full force... I decided to take the time to clean up our beer bottles, just in case he went for those. And then decided to launch into a huge tirade about women and the pointlessness of even trying to be in a relationship.
Dude had one bad date, not even a really bad one, it just got interrupted by the girl's ex, who happened to have called during it... Ok, not cool really, but still.
I'm sitting there thinking, well, shit, congrats to you for getting the nerve up to actually go on a date with someone. Even if the girl probably had some leftover shit to deal with from her last relationship, which she apparently told you about, and you still went out with her... What did you expect? Not to mention your audience is pretty unforgiving, especially me, having gone through a huge breakup/disengagement, which I've been pretty upset about, but not to the point of breaking shit. Especially over one date. WTF?
Sorry pal, not going to feel all that bad about it.
In fact, made me feel pretty good about myself.
I mean, I know I got some emotional problems, but damn, they ain't so bad...
...
And in other news I'm thinking about going to the doctor again. My stomach's been pretty messed up lately, and it just doesn't seem to be going away. It just feels like a low kind of burning, though not all that painful, just constant kind of grinding...
Monday, February 4, 2008
Sweet Power Bands
Ok, so I realized not smoking at all today was more than likely not going to happen. It was indeed the thought that counted. I did manage to smoke significantly less, at least for the first half of my day. And I'm really concentrating now on cutting down considerably. It just ain't worth it anymore.
Someone suggested cutting out behaviors and actions that make me think of smoking, which I actually pondered for a while today.
Actions that make me think of smoking:
Eating
Drinking
Waking up
Being at work
Coming home from work
Getting out of the Shower (always a good one, don't know why)
Last one of the night before I go to sleep
After sex (don't gotta worry about this one for a while)
Walking to work
Getting to work (after I grab the coffee)
etc...
Well, looks like I'll have to quit my job, stop eating, drinking, going to the bar, and sleeping, showering and waking up...
Could be in it for the long haul...
...
How come no one told me today was officially, "Everyone Get in Gaius' Way" Day. I most certainly attended this celebration of sharing work spaces, because Everyone got in my goddamn way today. People were lining up to just walk through the kitchen, stand in front of the ovens I need to get into, or in front of the walk-in door I needed to get in, especially when carrying large pots and pans and heavy Cambros full of heavy foods. One Lady really got to me, by getting in my way, seriously five times, in three different locations, each time ignoring my chants of, "Behind. Behind You. Behind. Heavy. Hot. Sharp! Hellooooo."
Just because some people are having a nice slow, easy day, doesn't mean other people around you are.
End Rant.
...
Despite this, had a good day. People in the basement seemed to be hopped up on goofballs, and were very entertaining. Except for the incessant Super Bowl talk, of which I did actually chime in because I caught half the game for no other reason except that it was on, and everyone at the bar was watching it, and commentating on it.
I did see the most amazing device though. At one point Tom Brady has this wrist band thing (I don't watch sports) that flips open to reveal a list of all the plays he can use, which after I saw it I totally wanted one.
I imagined myself wearing them at work, and flipping it open to reveal all the recipes I would be using that day. Would be totally awesome and sweet.
Someone suggested cutting out behaviors and actions that make me think of smoking, which I actually pondered for a while today.
Actions that make me think of smoking:
Eating
Drinking
Waking up
Being at work
Coming home from work
Getting out of the Shower (always a good one, don't know why)
Last one of the night before I go to sleep
After sex (don't gotta worry about this one for a while)
Walking to work
Getting to work (after I grab the coffee)
etc...
Well, looks like I'll have to quit my job, stop eating, drinking, going to the bar, and sleeping, showering and waking up...
Could be in it for the long haul...
...
How come no one told me today was officially, "Everyone Get in Gaius' Way" Day. I most certainly attended this celebration of sharing work spaces, because Everyone got in my goddamn way today. People were lining up to just walk through the kitchen, stand in front of the ovens I need to get into, or in front of the walk-in door I needed to get in, especially when carrying large pots and pans and heavy Cambros full of heavy foods. One Lady really got to me, by getting in my way, seriously five times, in three different locations, each time ignoring my chants of, "Behind. Behind You. Behind. Heavy. Hot. Sharp! Hellooooo."
Just because some people are having a nice slow, easy day, doesn't mean other people around you are.
End Rant.
...
Despite this, had a good day. People in the basement seemed to be hopped up on goofballs, and were very entertaining. Except for the incessant Super Bowl talk, of which I did actually chime in because I caught half the game for no other reason except that it was on, and everyone at the bar was watching it, and commentating on it.
I did see the most amazing device though. At one point Tom Brady has this wrist band thing (I don't watch sports) that flips open to reveal a list of all the plays he can use, which after I saw it I totally wanted one.
I imagined myself wearing them at work, and flipping it open to reveal all the recipes I would be using that day. Would be totally awesome and sweet.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Super Bowel Sunday
Its Super Bowl Sunday. And this fact means absolutely nothing to me, other than I'm planning on doing my usual Sunday night bar trip, to the bar up the street that has Restaurant Workers Appreciation night, where food and drinks are discounted greatly. That and usually no one is there early in the evening, and its a nice time to sit and ruminate by myself, and perhaps watch one of the many televisions. I'm wondering if the Simpsons will be on. Though I still fail to find "King of the Hill" entertaining in the slightest, though I suppose I should watch it to get a feel for the fine people's of Texas.
...
I spent last night laying in bed, listening to music and laying low, despite plans to go out to some sort of fund raising show... The hangover from the night before really did a number on me all day, and the thought of consuming more alcohol unsettled my already unsettled stomach.
I made a wise choice. My first entirely sober night since things fell apart.
Though I can't say I woke feeling all the much better about the state of my life, I did manage to spend half the morning accomplishing little things, like cleaning, and going out to work on my taxes, which I'm pleased to report I will be receiving a decent chunk of change.
I do not believe having a lot of money will bring me happiness, but it doesn't hurt to have some extra funds coming in.
The events of Friday night took more out of me than I care to admit to, and I'm not speaking strictly pill and alcohol. A minor set back on the road to recovery. Sometimes I wish I could control these emotions, turn them off at will.
("There are times I envy you, Mr. Data")
...
I'm going to attempt to quit the smoking. I'm not going to buy another pack tomorrow, or tonight for that matter. And see if I can make it through the day without smoking at all.
I only have a little bit left.
...
And a huge shout out to TCB, for calling me, checking up on me after the very drunken text message I sent him the night before. I'll be seeing you soon.
And also a huge, long overdue thank you to Spy Sweeper(TM). According to the little annoying box that pops up in the corner of my computer screen, I am now protected against 220,816 threats. I had no idea my enemies' numbers were that high, and I am a little alarmed they seem to be growing steadily over time.
...
I spent last night laying in bed, listening to music and laying low, despite plans to go out to some sort of fund raising show... The hangover from the night before really did a number on me all day, and the thought of consuming more alcohol unsettled my already unsettled stomach.
I made a wise choice. My first entirely sober night since things fell apart.
Though I can't say I woke feeling all the much better about the state of my life, I did manage to spend half the morning accomplishing little things, like cleaning, and going out to work on my taxes, which I'm pleased to report I will be receiving a decent chunk of change.
I do not believe having a lot of money will bring me happiness, but it doesn't hurt to have some extra funds coming in.
The events of Friday night took more out of me than I care to admit to, and I'm not speaking strictly pill and alcohol. A minor set back on the road to recovery. Sometimes I wish I could control these emotions, turn them off at will.
("There are times I envy you, Mr. Data")
...
I'm going to attempt to quit the smoking. I'm not going to buy another pack tomorrow, or tonight for that matter. And see if I can make it through the day without smoking at all.
I only have a little bit left.
...
And a huge shout out to TCB, for calling me, checking up on me after the very drunken text message I sent him the night before. I'll be seeing you soon.
And also a huge, long overdue thank you to Spy Sweeper(TM). According to the little annoying box that pops up in the corner of my computer screen, I am now protected against 220,816 threats. I had no idea my enemies' numbers were that high, and I am a little alarmed they seem to be growing steadily over time.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Adderalls Well, That Ends Well
For some reason after getting the internet hooked up in this house, whenever I check Google or log into my blog, they are displayed in German. Other websites seem to be in English. I do not know why. Maybe Google is telling me something, like move to Germany, or perhaps they are trying to expand my horizons.
...
Oh Friday night. Some friends of mine decided to go out dancing at The Bar, to the Soul Club event at which DJ's spin soul, afro, funk music and people are invited to dance. I'm not much of a dancer, but i do enjoy it, and it usually takes a few drinks to really get me into it. Let's just say I got the drinking part down last night, though I only did probably about two songs worth of dancing.
My friend's didn't seem to be in the mood to dance, and were more prone to sitting in the back of the bar drinking and talking, which suited me just fine.
Let's just say there were some complications on the dance floor. A certain someone I'm not ready to socialize with again.
So that cast a shadow over some of the evenings proceedings, and I'll admit I kind of drank a lot to deal with it, as I am prone to do from time to time, but really I tried to enjoy myself. That and half the Adderall my friend gave me, well, made things somewhat fuzzy for me.
And probably added to the minor breakdown I had when I got home.
Oops.
The good thing is that I didn't drunk dial anybody. Although I did send some drunk texts to my friends, and not the complication, which is also good. Props to me for keeping my shit somewhat together!
Though I felt like death when I woke up this morning, or shall I say, woke up with the lights on and me laying perpendicular to my bed, my legs on the floor, and then when I realized I had to be to work in three hours, I tried to sleep the correct way, and received one of those super awful leg cramps, the one that feels like an ice pick being stabbed into your calf, when your leg bends against your will. This made me walk funny for the first part of my day.
...
Work was actually kind of enjoyable today, strangely, despite the fog of my hangover, and the older ladies the share the basement work space yap yap yapping away about the most inane subjects... they literally sounded like clucking chickens to me. I was on fire with some witty banter today as well.
And I'm beginning to think L. Marge has a thing for me, cuz whenever she sees me she's all huge, radiant smiles.
...
Oh Friday night. Some friends of mine decided to go out dancing at The Bar, to the Soul Club event at which DJ's spin soul, afro, funk music and people are invited to dance. I'm not much of a dancer, but i do enjoy it, and it usually takes a few drinks to really get me into it. Let's just say I got the drinking part down last night, though I only did probably about two songs worth of dancing.
My friend's didn't seem to be in the mood to dance, and were more prone to sitting in the back of the bar drinking and talking, which suited me just fine.
Let's just say there were some complications on the dance floor. A certain someone I'm not ready to socialize with again.
So that cast a shadow over some of the evenings proceedings, and I'll admit I kind of drank a lot to deal with it, as I am prone to do from time to time, but really I tried to enjoy myself. That and half the Adderall my friend gave me, well, made things somewhat fuzzy for me.
And probably added to the minor breakdown I had when I got home.
Oops.
The good thing is that I didn't drunk dial anybody. Although I did send some drunk texts to my friends, and not the complication, which is also good. Props to me for keeping my shit somewhat together!
Though I felt like death when I woke up this morning, or shall I say, woke up with the lights on and me laying perpendicular to my bed, my legs on the floor, and then when I realized I had to be to work in three hours, I tried to sleep the correct way, and received one of those super awful leg cramps, the one that feels like an ice pick being stabbed into your calf, when your leg bends against your will. This made me walk funny for the first part of my day.
...
Work was actually kind of enjoyable today, strangely, despite the fog of my hangover, and the older ladies the share the basement work space yap yap yapping away about the most inane subjects... they literally sounded like clucking chickens to me. I was on fire with some witty banter today as well.
And I'm beginning to think L. Marge has a thing for me, cuz whenever she sees me she's all huge, radiant smiles.
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