Hello all,
So much has happened but I'm pretty much in the same place. Many of you don't know this but I have been talking to Fuckhead. It's a long story, but finally after enough abuse from him and a self realization, I will not be talking to him anymore. I feel so stupid for ever having believed that he would be better than what he was treating me. Writing this blog, as twisted as it may sound, is like free therapy for me. I have always been able to talk more freely about my life to strangers, it's the performer in me. Well, finally after telling the "Fuckhead and me" story to enough people with their response being, "....and you would want to get back together with him?", I realized no, no I would not. My best of friends and family have been telling me that it would not work because he is a ballless sack of crap, but I was stupid and now I want more for myself.
Moving right along, Christmas day was a bottle-of-rum blur followed by a pm rescue from my best friend to go see the Curious Case of Benjamin Button. She saved me right as I was on my last drink, playing cards with my cousins (whom I used to call the Rectangle Children, because of their shape and appeal), and allegedly started to make plans for a card tournament for Easter. All I got for Christmas was a "European" styled soccer jersey from my uncle, some socks, and an envelope of money which I keep playing boomerang with my parents. I told them not to give me anything. Isn't that nice, no gift required, I don't want anything, stop giving me that, stop, STOP!!! I'll probably end up taking it; I'm poor, not stupid.
On the 26th I came home to find Christmas part 3 in full swing. I raced through 30 oz. of red wine and then it was off to the local Pendleton bars with my favorite brother, sister-in-law, and cousin. Whoever said screaming Taylor Swift songs and constantly retelling a story of another cousin who passed out driving her car because she licked cat medicine off her hand was no fun has clearly never been to The Old Trail off of I-69. We were soon joined by a local family, friends through my brother, and I regaled them with stories of my colorful life. Dancing, travel, and celebrity. They "Oohed" and "Ahhed" in all the appropriate places and when I was done they told me that I had such an amazing life. Really?? I mean I always thought so, but to hear someone else say it was a compliment for which I was not prepared. Maybe I told it wrong...
We then went to the bar in downtown Pendleton where I was met by all of the most popular kids in my class. They came up to me and hugged me like I was the long lost friend they never never invited to a party or would talk down to when we were partners in math class. It was like Bizarro World. Up was down, right was left, and I was popular too. After that, this siren who was a senior in my show choir when I was a freshman came up to me, hugged me, told me how fabulous I looked and demanded that I come to New York to stay with her. She said that she had gone through a divorce that sounded similar to mine and could name 10 of her closest gay friends that would eat me up........I just need a minute to imagine that...............................that was awesome.
Am I popular now? Did having a failed life that involved me living at home with my parents and working in a superstore make me popular? Maybe I should rethink this whole popular thing.
As I was receiving my shots of self confidence from around the room my brother was shooting something else. I turned on myself to find him three sheets to the wind and in a better mood than I had seen him in in college.
Him: "Heeey Nouh, we gotta make you pard uh duh family."
Me: "Umm, I thought I already was?"
Him: "Naah, naah, com'er. HEY FAMILY!"
He proceeded to shake my hand and slap the crap out of it until it was swollen red and all veins had popped out of the top. "Ahh, mother fucker!", I said and responded the only way that seemed natural and slapped him across the face, twice. This apparently was not the reciprocal response he was anticipating and was very upset. My sister-in-law explained to him that I was of a lighter fair and did not respond to this fraternal showing. He brought over my cousin and showed me that appropriate response was to do it back. I then had to demonstrate my familial bond and do it with both of them, twice. My hand still hurts.
As for New Years Eve, I have tentative plans with an old friend and hope that he calls me to go out. Even if he doesn't call me I think I'll drive to Indy to go to a gay club by myself. I'm feeling empowered and in need of some attention I am not getting here at home. Until then I will work on my plan to build a time machine to go back in time 27 years and talk to Fuckhead's mother about her pro choice options. Would you want your baby to grow up to be a spineless chode? I wouldn't.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
I'll Be Home for Christmas......or Dead.
Hello all,
Merry almost Christmas. I'm writing you today as my parents have gone to the first of two candle light services, I opted to stay at home, dodging bullets however I can. I am trying to avoid the holiday entirely by barely participating, it is not working out very well. I have half a bottle of rum saved for tomorrow when my mom's family comes, and I'll need every drop. Whenever my mom sees me with a drink in hand she looks at me and shakes her head as if I'm sniffing crack off the "davenport". Lady it's called a couch, nobody ever called it a "davenport". Geez...., but I digress.
Yesterday it took me 3 hours to get home from work. 3 HOURS!!! It normally takes me 25 min. Usually in a traffic jam, I yell something like, "There better be 8 dead bodies on the road!!!", but seeing as I was in no rush to get home I just relaxed into my iPod for a long winter's jam session. The longer I waited I started to realize how nobody was calling me. Not my family or my friends, nobody. I was in a wintery mix storm, and no one knew where I was! I could be DEAD! WHY IS NO ONE CHECKING TO SEE WHERE I AM?????
I got home at 8 and said "Hey, sooooo yeah, it took me 3 hours to get home today...." Mom was in the kitchen wrapping presents and Dad was on the computer.
Mom: "What time did you leave work?"
Me: "5."
"Oh, wow." Thoroughly unamused.
"But it's ok, I'm fine. Nooooo need to call me and see where I am."
"Well, if I call you you'll just get ticked off, and I don't want to be responsible for that."
"Uh, let's see...I was gone 2 1/2 hours longer than what I said I would and the weather is turning every road into the set of Cool Runnings 2. Yes, I would be fine if you called me to see where I am."
Merry almost Christmas. I'm writing you today as my parents have gone to the first of two candle light services, I opted to stay at home, dodging bullets however I can. I am trying to avoid the holiday entirely by barely participating, it is not working out very well. I have half a bottle of rum saved for tomorrow when my mom's family comes, and I'll need every drop. Whenever my mom sees me with a drink in hand she looks at me and shakes her head as if I'm sniffing crack off the "davenport". Lady it's called a couch, nobody ever called it a "davenport". Geez...., but I digress.
Yesterday it took me 3 hours to get home from work. 3 HOURS!!! It normally takes me 25 min. Usually in a traffic jam, I yell something like, "There better be 8 dead bodies on the road!!!", but seeing as I was in no rush to get home I just relaxed into my iPod for a long winter's jam session. The longer I waited I started to realize how nobody was calling me. Not my family or my friends, nobody. I was in a wintery mix storm, and no one knew where I was! I could be DEAD! WHY IS NO ONE CHECKING TO SEE WHERE I AM?????
I got home at 8 and said "Hey, sooooo yeah, it took me 3 hours to get home today...." Mom was in the kitchen wrapping presents and Dad was on the computer.
Mom: "What time did you leave work?"
Me: "5."
"Oh, wow." Thoroughly unamused.
"But it's ok, I'm fine. Nooooo need to call me and see where I am."
"Well, if I call you you'll just get ticked off, and I don't want to be responsible for that."
"Uh, let's see...I was gone 2 1/2 hours longer than what I said I would and the weather is turning every road into the set of Cool Runnings 2. Yes, I would be fine if you called me to see where I am."
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Sometimes I Think There's a Reason I Don't Go Out.
Hello all,
Yesterday I went to a holiday party thrown by a friend from high school that I haven’t seen since 2001. He was gay as the day is long in high school but didn’t come out until he was in college. It was a jammed pack evening, but I’m jumping ahead of myself….
I was so excited to actually have a party to go to, that, teamed with me having no real life, resulted in me getting ready at 4 in the afternoon and waiting 5 hours like a 16 year old girl waiting for her first homecoming dance. I won’t go into all the details, but I will say that waiting around the house to go to a party where you hope to partake in various forms of debauchery with people you just meet while your parents ask you if you need to bring any food to the party and that you need to make a nice friend so that if you drink too much you will have someone to stay with is a big ol’ buzz kill.
I got to the party a little early so I drove around a little in hopes that I would not be the first person there. After a half hour or so I finally went into the party were I was greeted by a squat Korean woman who said, “Op, it’s another gay! Are you the crazy person who’s been driving around the block for an hour?” Damn it. After that my high school friend greeted me and showed me around the house, ending in his bedroom where he over-applied his make up, told me that he and his partner have an unresolved open relationship, and showed me that in just 7 years a black tee-shirt, baggy jean-wearing hipster can become a screaming queen.
Most of the party guests consisted of couples and drag queens who weren’t in drag and bitched about it all night. After I filled my cup for the first time I realized that because of my single status I was the topic of conversation and no one in the room made it a point to conceal what they thought about me.
Party Guest 1: “Mmm, look at that ass.”
Me: “Thank you…..”
Party Guest 2: “I know it’s so perky!”
Me: “Thanks…… I was a dance major in college.”
Party Guest 1: “Ohh, you could like set your drink on it.”
Me: “…….uh…”
Party Guest 2: “You just wanna smack it!”
Me: “Ah, yes, (I dodge a few hands)……don’t though!”
My spotlight was soon stolen by the unresolved part of my friend’s open relationship. He had just turned 20, wasn’t allowed to drink because of a DUI and a court date the next day, and was leaving after his appearance in court on a plane headed for California where he was going to be filmed in his first porno at one of everyone’s favorite sites. If that’s not what dreams are made of, I’ve been dreaming for the wrong stuff.
As the party died down I was asked out by one of the only other single, non-drag queen people at the party. He was a brown haired little twink around my age who had gone to IU and majored in law and biology. He was planning a future career as a lawologist, or a bioyer, or something. We were both pretty unsure on what he would do with that, I actually think he was lying. We went to a bar nearby for an hour and I kicked his drunken ass in darts twice. After that I drove him home and went inside to use the bathroom, he told me that because of his roommate being home we could hang out in his room. I came out of the bathroom and turned the corner to find the guy already in bed in his underwear.
Me: “Uh…….hi.”
Him: “Hey, why don’t you just come and lay down in bed?”
(And by “bed”, he meant a king size air mattress with no sheets. Hell no.)
Me: “Uh …really?”
Him: “Yeah. Come on, I just wanna talk.”
Me: “Yeah, no.…..I’m….I’m just gonna go home now.”
When all was said and done I was pretty happy with that decision. The only thing I regret is the rum. Yikes! I started training for my second job today and that was rough. While watching an instructional video about hazardous chemicals and diseases transmitted in blood I was certain for 15 seconds that I had Hepatitis B, but after realizing how that was not at all possible, I knew I was just really hung over.
Yesterday I went to a holiday party thrown by a friend from high school that I haven’t seen since 2001. He was gay as the day is long in high school but didn’t come out until he was in college. It was a jammed pack evening, but I’m jumping ahead of myself….
I was so excited to actually have a party to go to, that, teamed with me having no real life, resulted in me getting ready at 4 in the afternoon and waiting 5 hours like a 16 year old girl waiting for her first homecoming dance. I won’t go into all the details, but I will say that waiting around the house to go to a party where you hope to partake in various forms of debauchery with people you just meet while your parents ask you if you need to bring any food to the party and that you need to make a nice friend so that if you drink too much you will have someone to stay with is a big ol’ buzz kill.
I got to the party a little early so I drove around a little in hopes that I would not be the first person there. After a half hour or so I finally went into the party were I was greeted by a squat Korean woman who said, “Op, it’s another gay! Are you the crazy person who’s been driving around the block for an hour?” Damn it. After that my high school friend greeted me and showed me around the house, ending in his bedroom where he over-applied his make up, told me that he and his partner have an unresolved open relationship, and showed me that in just 7 years a black tee-shirt, baggy jean-wearing hipster can become a screaming queen.
Most of the party guests consisted of couples and drag queens who weren’t in drag and bitched about it all night. After I filled my cup for the first time I realized that because of my single status I was the topic of conversation and no one in the room made it a point to conceal what they thought about me.
Party Guest 1: “Mmm, look at that ass.”
Me: “Thank you…..”
Party Guest 2: “I know it’s so perky!”
Me: “Thanks…… I was a dance major in college.”
Party Guest 1: “Ohh, you could like set your drink on it.”
Me: “…….uh…”
Party Guest 2: “You just wanna smack it!”
Me: “Ah, yes, (I dodge a few hands)……don’t though!”
My spotlight was soon stolen by the unresolved part of my friend’s open relationship. He had just turned 20, wasn’t allowed to drink because of a DUI and a court date the next day, and was leaving after his appearance in court on a plane headed for California where he was going to be filmed in his first porno at one of everyone’s favorite sites. If that’s not what dreams are made of, I’ve been dreaming for the wrong stuff.
As the party died down I was asked out by one of the only other single, non-drag queen people at the party. He was a brown haired little twink around my age who had gone to IU and majored in law and biology. He was planning a future career as a lawologist, or a bioyer, or something. We were both pretty unsure on what he would do with that, I actually think he was lying. We went to a bar nearby for an hour and I kicked his drunken ass in darts twice. After that I drove him home and went inside to use the bathroom, he told me that because of his roommate being home we could hang out in his room. I came out of the bathroom and turned the corner to find the guy already in bed in his underwear.
Me: “Uh…….hi.”
Him: “Hey, why don’t you just come and lay down in bed?”
(And by “bed”, he meant a king size air mattress with no sheets. Hell no.)
Me: “Uh …really?”
Him: “Yeah. Come on, I just wanna talk.”
Me: “Yeah, no.…..I’m….I’m just gonna go home now.”
When all was said and done I was pretty happy with that decision. The only thing I regret is the rum. Yikes! I started training for my second job today and that was rough. While watching an instructional video about hazardous chemicals and diseases transmitted in blood I was certain for 15 seconds that I had Hepatitis B, but after realizing how that was not at all possible, I knew I was just really hung over.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The Howl of a Goat
Hello all,
Next week I will have been home for 5 months. Can you believe it? 5 MONTHS!!! It seems like a few weeks and a million years all at the same time. Everyday I feel like I’m falling further down the rabbit hole resulting in my inevitable unwinding.
The other day I was walking outside with the dogs and I heard a goat. My parents have been living in this house for 12 years and I have never heard farm animals before. I thought I was going crazy. My dog and I, both, looked with tilted heads off into the distance. The whole thing reminded me of a woman who was on Oprah many years ago. She was diagnosed with multiple personality disorder and wrote a book about it; in the book she said that she was warned by the change of one personality to another by the scream of a rabbit in her ears. I knew I wasn’t that crazy and I was accustomed to waking up every Saturday morning by the screams of newly tattooed rabbits as a child, maybe a goat was my crazy animal trigger. I knew it was a goat and not a sheep because
Goat: “Eh, eh, eh…..”
Sheep: “Meeeeeeeeeh"
Very distinct, thank you 4-H. I was wearing my pajamas, winter coat, and work boots as I tiptoed halfway through the neighbor’s yard before I realized how crazy I actually looked and ran back in the house, arms flailing in the air behind me. I asked Dad about it and it turns out that the goat lives 2 houses over and is there to keep a horse, who is apparently a mute, company. Now, every time, I’m in that corner of the yard and I hear the goat I think, “Oh God, is this it? Am I crazy now? Or, am I crazy cause I think the howl of a goat is going to make me crazy?” Probably a little of both.
Next week I will have been home for 5 months. Can you believe it? 5 MONTHS!!! It seems like a few weeks and a million years all at the same time. Everyday I feel like I’m falling further down the rabbit hole resulting in my inevitable unwinding.
The other day I was walking outside with the dogs and I heard a goat. My parents have been living in this house for 12 years and I have never heard farm animals before. I thought I was going crazy. My dog and I, both, looked with tilted heads off into the distance. The whole thing reminded me of a woman who was on Oprah many years ago. She was diagnosed with multiple personality disorder and wrote a book about it; in the book she said that she was warned by the change of one personality to another by the scream of a rabbit in her ears. I knew I wasn’t that crazy and I was accustomed to waking up every Saturday morning by the screams of newly tattooed rabbits as a child, maybe a goat was my crazy animal trigger. I knew it was a goat and not a sheep because
Goat: “Eh, eh, eh…..”
Sheep: “Meeeeeeeeeh"
Very distinct, thank you 4-H. I was wearing my pajamas, winter coat, and work boots as I tiptoed halfway through the neighbor’s yard before I realized how crazy I actually looked and ran back in the house, arms flailing in the air behind me. I asked Dad about it and it turns out that the goat lives 2 houses over and is there to keep a horse, who is apparently a mute, company. Now, every time, I’m in that corner of the yard and I hear the goat I think, “Oh God, is this it? Am I crazy now? Or, am I crazy cause I think the howl of a goat is going to make me crazy?” Probably a little of both.
Beware the TV
Hello all,
I am writing you today from the extra bedroom in my house that has become my sanctuary. My bedroom is filled with so much of my crap, and I need a bit of a vacation from the other members of the household, so this little haven off the front of the house is my piece of heaven; quiet, clean(er), full of solitude.
There was a holiday special on TV, the top 20 songs of Christmas, and I just about stabbed my thigh it was so annoying. I could barely stand Taylor Swift, whom I commonly enjoy, singing the pitchiest version of Silent Night I have heard since high school show choir. Those damn Chipmunks were about to get a hula hoop jammed down their little necks. The last nail in the coffin was when they started to play scenes from The Nightmare before Christmas, one of Fuckhead’s favorite movies. The holidays are like romantic comedies, people think that it’s fun for everyone, but it’s not. Romantic comedies piss me off so much; in the 2 hours you spent watching Diane Lane get devastated and married you get to walk away from the whole experience still alone.
I know not many of the people who read this blog are single, but seriously, the holidays for couples are all about starting traditions and being together in the snow with the presents and all that crap. The holidays for single people is about attending parties hoping that someone will be as pissed off as you are about the whole ordeal and that will be the common bond that will turn the both of you from singles into a couple. Weddings too, going to a wedding is not about seeing you friends get married, no no, it’s about seeing which of your friends are still available, hoping that you are not the last one.
I blame the TV. I keep on thinking Fuckhead will come back to me, even though I wouldn’t know what to do with him if it happened. I try not to think about that but it bombards me at every intersection. Big came back to Carrie, Harry Connick Jr. came back to Grace, even that lady who filled in for Aunt Becky on "Wake Up, San Francisco" when she was pregnant with the twins came back to Danny Tanner on the last episode of Full House. Buffy and Angel! Buffy and Angel!!!! I am a big fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (no judgment) and they did not end up back together after all was said and done!!!!! They were together, knew it wouldn’t/couldn’t work out and never got back together. That was realistic. I’m going to go watch that right now, I have the whole series………….oh……..oh, shit. Where is my entire series of Buffy and Angel, oh, that’s right, it’s in the bottom of a closet in Fuckhead’s apt. on the upper upper upper west side with no plans of coming back to me. DAMN IT!
I am writing you today from the extra bedroom in my house that has become my sanctuary. My bedroom is filled with so much of my crap, and I need a bit of a vacation from the other members of the household, so this little haven off the front of the house is my piece of heaven; quiet, clean(er), full of solitude.
There was a holiday special on TV, the top 20 songs of Christmas, and I just about stabbed my thigh it was so annoying. I could barely stand Taylor Swift, whom I commonly enjoy, singing the pitchiest version of Silent Night I have heard since high school show choir. Those damn Chipmunks were about to get a hula hoop jammed down their little necks. The last nail in the coffin was when they started to play scenes from The Nightmare before Christmas, one of Fuckhead’s favorite movies. The holidays are like romantic comedies, people think that it’s fun for everyone, but it’s not. Romantic comedies piss me off so much; in the 2 hours you spent watching Diane Lane get devastated and married you get to walk away from the whole experience still alone.
I know not many of the people who read this blog are single, but seriously, the holidays for couples are all about starting traditions and being together in the snow with the presents and all that crap. The holidays for single people is about attending parties hoping that someone will be as pissed off as you are about the whole ordeal and that will be the common bond that will turn the both of you from singles into a couple. Weddings too, going to a wedding is not about seeing you friends get married, no no, it’s about seeing which of your friends are still available, hoping that you are not the last one.
I blame the TV. I keep on thinking Fuckhead will come back to me, even though I wouldn’t know what to do with him if it happened. I try not to think about that but it bombards me at every intersection. Big came back to Carrie, Harry Connick Jr. came back to Grace, even that lady who filled in for Aunt Becky on "Wake Up, San Francisco" when she was pregnant with the twins came back to Danny Tanner on the last episode of Full House. Buffy and Angel! Buffy and Angel!!!! I am a big fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (no judgment) and they did not end up back together after all was said and done!!!!! They were together, knew it wouldn’t/couldn’t work out and never got back together. That was realistic. I’m going to go watch that right now, I have the whole series………….oh……..oh, shit. Where is my entire series of Buffy and Angel, oh, that’s right, it’s in the bottom of a closet in Fuckhead’s apt. on the upper upper upper west side with no plans of coming back to me. DAMN IT!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Much Ablog About Nothing
Hello all,
I'm writing you today from the Pendleton library after having, yet again, another tragic haircut. I don't know what my problem is, I think that I may be to faithful of strangers. I have been told again and again by my best of friends not to go to the cheap places to get my hair cut, but I always think that today is going to be the day, I will get a great haircut from some charming and delightful townie. Instead I always get some trashy girl who got pregnant her sophomore year of high school, who is wearing clothes from Kmart, has clearly printed her barber license off the Internet and is smacking Juicy Fruit in my ear. And I always walk out of there with a prison hair cut and am too nice to leave a crappy tip. Damn my generosity. It's odd, I really don't have a problem being mean to people, but in the 2 second greeting you get before your haircut I invest enough faith in this piece of trash person to cut my hair, MY HAIR!! Oh well, she'll probably get the clap or something and I'll begin the whole process again in 2 1/2 months with some other teenage shotgun bride.
I have been doing a lot of training at the restaurant where I was hired only to find out that I'd be given one shift a week. Son of a bitch!!! Right? I did my shift yesterday and made $11 dollars. Seriously, I have learned enough about myself, I am interested in no more hard times. What the hell am I supposed to do with $11!! NOTHING. Geez.
Today I am looking for a new job online, using career placement websites. Dad seemed to think this was a good idea and that I'd be a prime candidate for an insurance bureau. Can you imagine? Me, selling insurance, or what ever they do there? That would be hilarious. I'd do it just to laugh at myself. Ha! Walking up to guys in a bar saying that I have a BFA in Dance Performance, sell insurance, and live at home with my parents where I settle for prison hair cuts. Lord, take me now. Granted, I'd be making more doing that than what I'm doing now, it would just be a very funny turn of events
Last night I had a very vivid dream that is sticking with me. Now, many of my dreams (70% or so)take place in places from my childhood. My old house, church, school, or fairgrounds, it's very bizarre and it probably means something, but why go to a therapist when if I keep it all bottled up inside it just makes me a more entertaining dinner guest? Anywho, the dream took place in my apartment from my first year at Butler, the one on 38th St. Not many people visited me there, thanks. There was an old woman who had lived and died there and my parents, some people I don't remember and I were there to clean up the apt. so it could be resold. She didn't have much, just some pictures on the walls of an old farm house and barn and a fridge filled with nonperishable items and Hershey's chocolate syrup. Everytime I opened the fridge there would be more bottles of syrup. Dad came to get me for a meeting on how to clean up the apt. saying that we would need to make it a few hundred square feet bigger and then I woke up.
What the hell does that mean???
I have been lactose intolerant for 2 weeks now and I think the lack of milk is driving me crazy. I used to make a lot of chocolate milk and maybe that's where the chocolate syrup comes in, but I don't know. I'm going to try Silk, the soy milk, and see if it's a good substitute. I bought a bottle of it once, for kicks, and it wasn't so bad. I hear there is some replacement for ice cream as well. But as for my best friend, cheese, from what I have heard, non-dairy cheese tastes like cardboard. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself, maybe this is the part of the movie of my life where I change everything about my life, become vegan and loose 50 lbs. and meet some bagger named Sven at Whole Foods and we move to Seattle and fight global warming and get matching Hybrids and get a kitchen floor made out of bamboo and adopt unwanted Mexican toddlers and I'll try to live a life with constant 5 o'clock shadow and..... and..... and.........no that probably won't happen. I'll probably stay at home for a while displace love from any possible outlet into my dog, gain more weight around my mid-section, dream of meeting someone while looking at all desperate personal ads on craigslist and never pay any of my bills and go to prison, well at least I'll have the haircut for it.
I'm writing you today from the Pendleton library after having, yet again, another tragic haircut. I don't know what my problem is, I think that I may be to faithful of strangers. I have been told again and again by my best of friends not to go to the cheap places to get my hair cut, but I always think that today is going to be the day, I will get a great haircut from some charming and delightful townie. Instead I always get some trashy girl who got pregnant her sophomore year of high school, who is wearing clothes from Kmart, has clearly printed her barber license off the Internet and is smacking Juicy Fruit in my ear. And I always walk out of there with a prison hair cut and am too nice to leave a crappy tip. Damn my generosity. It's odd, I really don't have a problem being mean to people, but in the 2 second greeting you get before your haircut I invest enough faith in this piece of trash person to cut my hair, MY HAIR!! Oh well, she'll probably get the clap or something and I'll begin the whole process again in 2 1/2 months with some other teenage shotgun bride.
I have been doing a lot of training at the restaurant where I was hired only to find out that I'd be given one shift a week. Son of a bitch!!! Right? I did my shift yesterday and made $11 dollars. Seriously, I have learned enough about myself, I am interested in no more hard times. What the hell am I supposed to do with $11!! NOTHING. Geez.
Today I am looking for a new job online, using career placement websites. Dad seemed to think this was a good idea and that I'd be a prime candidate for an insurance bureau. Can you imagine? Me, selling insurance, or what ever they do there? That would be hilarious. I'd do it just to laugh at myself. Ha! Walking up to guys in a bar saying that I have a BFA in Dance Performance, sell insurance, and live at home with my parents where I settle for prison hair cuts. Lord, take me now. Granted, I'd be making more doing that than what I'm doing now, it would just be a very funny turn of events
Last night I had a very vivid dream that is sticking with me. Now, many of my dreams (70% or so)take place in places from my childhood. My old house, church, school, or fairgrounds, it's very bizarre and it probably means something, but why go to a therapist when if I keep it all bottled up inside it just makes me a more entertaining dinner guest? Anywho, the dream took place in my apartment from my first year at Butler, the one on 38th St. Not many people visited me there, thanks. There was an old woman who had lived and died there and my parents, some people I don't remember and I were there to clean up the apt. so it could be resold. She didn't have much, just some pictures on the walls of an old farm house and barn and a fridge filled with nonperishable items and Hershey's chocolate syrup. Everytime I opened the fridge there would be more bottles of syrup. Dad came to get me for a meeting on how to clean up the apt. saying that we would need to make it a few hundred square feet bigger and then I woke up.
What the hell does that mean???
I have been lactose intolerant for 2 weeks now and I think the lack of milk is driving me crazy. I used to make a lot of chocolate milk and maybe that's where the chocolate syrup comes in, but I don't know. I'm going to try Silk, the soy milk, and see if it's a good substitute. I bought a bottle of it once, for kicks, and it wasn't so bad. I hear there is some replacement for ice cream as well. But as for my best friend, cheese, from what I have heard, non-dairy cheese tastes like cardboard. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself, maybe this is the part of the movie of my life where I change everything about my life, become vegan and loose 50 lbs. and meet some bagger named Sven at Whole Foods and we move to Seattle and fight global warming and get matching Hybrids and get a kitchen floor made out of bamboo and adopt unwanted Mexican toddlers and I'll try to live a life with constant 5 o'clock shadow and..... and..... and.........no that probably won't happen. I'll probably stay at home for a while displace love from any possible outlet into my dog, gain more weight around my mid-section, dream of meeting someone while looking at all desperate personal ads on craigslist and never pay any of my bills and go to prison, well at least I'll have the haircut for it.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Hey, Hey, Hey.... That's OUR Word!
Hello all,
I'm writing you today from the Panera on 96th St. It has taken me a minute to find out what may be interesting in my life that doesn't directly relate to my parents, but then I started working at a restaurant and became clear. I have also been on hiatus because of a distressing phone call from Fuckhead, but that is an exhausting tale that has a 2 drink minimum. I'll just say that I still don't know when I'm going to get my stuff back- ARG.
Anywho, I have been training at work all week and the other night I was following a server and walked past the general manager telling the rest of the employees a story.The general manager looks like a combination of Mr. Clean, a pirate, and a motivational speaker who is trying to sell you gym equipment on an infomercial.
"Oh, yickity yackity, blah, blah, blah..........like I was some kind of fuckin' fag!!!"
Now, I commonly am not offended when people say slurs such as this. I know people are idiots and this man gave no reason to think any more of him, so my server and I talked about it for a second and moved on. Later on in the evening, I stepped into the restroom to check my voicemail and when I returned my server told me that he had taken her aside and apologized to her saying that he wasn't thinking of me being able to hear him.
A few hours after that he asked me to come into his office (duh, duh, DUH). He stretched out his hand, and during the longest most awkward handshake he apologized to me for saying that and that he NEVER says things like that and that was very insensitive. He repeated himself 4 or 5 times, still holding my hand (still awkward). You could tell the thought bubbles above our heads were flashing " LAWSUIT, LAWSUIT, LAWSUIT". I said something to the effect of, "Oh, yeah, people just don't think about what they're saying sometimes, who's that at the door, mkay bye." He was very, extraspecially polite to me for the remainder of the evening and let me leave early.
I haven't checked my driver's licence in a while, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't born yesterday.
never say things like that = I didn't know you heard me
very insensitive = please don't get me fired
Really, I don't know what offends me more, that he said it in a big group of his employees or that he picked me out as being the offended by it cause I'm gay. I don't remember checking the sexual orientation box on my application. Let's all say it together S-E-X-U-A-L H-A-R-A-S-S--M-E-N-T. I mean, yes, I am aware of my gayness. I'm no screaming queen, but I don't pretend to be straight either. In the job market a few years ago, I'd have quit on the spot, but I guess it might be fun to see how this plays out over time.
I'm writing you today from the Panera on 96th St. It has taken me a minute to find out what may be interesting in my life that doesn't directly relate to my parents, but then I started working at a restaurant and became clear. I have also been on hiatus because of a distressing phone call from Fuckhead, but that is an exhausting tale that has a 2 drink minimum. I'll just say that I still don't know when I'm going to get my stuff back- ARG.
Anywho, I have been training at work all week and the other night I was following a server and walked past the general manager telling the rest of the employees a story.The general manager looks like a combination of Mr. Clean, a pirate, and a motivational speaker who is trying to sell you gym equipment on an infomercial.
"Oh, yickity yackity, blah, blah, blah..........like I was some kind of fuckin' fag!!!"
Now, I commonly am not offended when people say slurs such as this. I know people are idiots and this man gave no reason to think any more of him, so my server and I talked about it for a second and moved on. Later on in the evening, I stepped into the restroom to check my voicemail and when I returned my server told me that he had taken her aside and apologized to her saying that he wasn't thinking of me being able to hear him.
A few hours after that he asked me to come into his office (duh, duh, DUH). He stretched out his hand, and during the longest most awkward handshake he apologized to me for saying that and that he NEVER says things like that and that was very insensitive. He repeated himself 4 or 5 times, still holding my hand (still awkward). You could tell the thought bubbles above our heads were flashing " LAWSUIT, LAWSUIT, LAWSUIT". I said something to the effect of, "Oh, yeah, people just don't think about what they're saying sometimes, who's that at the door, mkay bye." He was very, extraspecially polite to me for the remainder of the evening and let me leave early.
I haven't checked my driver's licence in a while, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't born yesterday.
never say things like that = I didn't know you heard me
very insensitive = please don't get me fired
Really, I don't know what offends me more, that he said it in a big group of his employees or that he picked me out as being the offended by it cause I'm gay. I don't remember checking the sexual orientation box on my application. Let's all say it together S-E-X-U-A-L H-A-R-A-S-S--M-E-N-T. I mean, yes, I am aware of my gayness. I'm no screaming queen, but I don't pretend to be straight either. In the job market a few years ago, I'd have quit on the spot, but I guess it might be fun to see how this plays out over time.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Are We Assholes?
Hello all,
It has been brought to my attention, but I have known for quite sometime, that I may be an asshole. Lots of people are assholes, some big, some little, I like to think I'm somewhere in between. Despite what you might think, I write this blog for my own amusement, though I know people read it, and never mean any harm. Granted, I have a very severe, dark sense of humor, I never mean to purposefully (except for you know who) in the things that I write and usually think that people will think it is funny and leave it at that.
When I came home today my parents had a sit down talk (uh-oh) with me because, turns out, they found out what I have been writing on my blog. In my sick, delusional mind, I pictured some frivolous TV parents, who would find it funny and move on. These are not my parents. They found it mean and hurtful and I am sorry. I never intended to vex them for all of their care and generosity. My mom had not technically read the blog but she heard from people what I had been saying. And naturally how gossip spreads and ideas get misconstrued, whoever told her gave her a worst case scenario which just snowballed from there. So to whomever told her, yes, I may be an asshole who is in a rough patch of my life and abuses my parents in thinking that their quirks are humorous enough to write about; that's my deal. I may be an asshole for needing a way to vent about my current situation and thinking that people who know me would think it was funny and move on, but you, well........you're just a bitch.
It has been brought to my attention, but I have known for quite sometime, that I may be an asshole. Lots of people are assholes, some big, some little, I like to think I'm somewhere in between. Despite what you might think, I write this blog for my own amusement, though I know people read it, and never mean any harm. Granted, I have a very severe, dark sense of humor, I never mean to purposefully (except for you know who) in the things that I write and usually think that people will think it is funny and leave it at that.
When I came home today my parents had a sit down talk (uh-oh) with me because, turns out, they found out what I have been writing on my blog. In my sick, delusional mind, I pictured some frivolous TV parents, who would find it funny and move on. These are not my parents. They found it mean and hurtful and I am sorry. I never intended to vex them for all of their care and generosity. My mom had not technically read the blog but she heard from people what I had been saying. And naturally how gossip spreads and ideas get misconstrued, whoever told her gave her a worst case scenario which just snowballed from there. So to whomever told her, yes, I may be an asshole who is in a rough patch of my life and abuses my parents in thinking that their quirks are humorous enough to write about; that's my deal. I may be an asshole for needing a way to vent about my current situation and thinking that people who know me would think it was funny and move on, but you, well........you're just a bitch.
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