Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Just my luck

Long back-story short: I got fired, I got a job two months later in Chicago and moved ... I am now own a home in Indianapolis and an apartment in Chicago. I telecommute every other Thurs and Fri from my home in Indianapolis. Joy.

<--- That's the magnificent mile over there. It's totally where everything happens. All the hot shops, just beautiful ... and I was in a hotel on the company's dime for a week. It was so nice ... but apparently, it's still a busy city street wreaking havoc on every vehicle massaging it not so gently with rubber by Goodyear. And apparently, the mag mile took it's frustrations out on me. So, there I was - at 11 PM ... with a flat tire on the side of the road, on the mag mile. Funny how busy that fucking place is at 11PM. Busses homing their horn because apparently, I'm in their way and it's harder for them to pull into traffic from their bus stop with me in front of them. But I can't exactly MOVE, bitches! Then, the homeless guy. I promise you I'm convinced he shot a bee be at my front passenger continental just so that he could make a quick buck. He offered, I said no. And I proceeded to change the tire. And then, the peanut gallery:

  • You should losen the lugnuts first
  • You sure you don't need help
  • I can really do that for you

Cut to his 4 year old (who says he's two) in a stroller helping daddy panhandle ... YES, AT 11 PM! Finally, I just turned around, acquiesced (or rather succombed) to the pressure and said, "you know what - you just do it" ... and he did. But not before the car came off the jack and if not for the old tire somewhat in place already, I woulda had a WHOLE heap of problems.

Oh, did I mention that all of my belongings were in the car ... and I had to take all my shit out of the trunk in order to get to the spare tire? And the donut being smaller than a regular tire ... yuh, the flat didn't fit as neatly in the trunk and it was all a straight mess.

And I use the term "straight" loosely.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Dear Dude at the Gym

I know you’ve noticed me – even though I look your way TONS more than you look my way … I do catch you checking to see if I’m looking. And while we play that coy game, I need to get a few things off my chest … but like, on my blog so as not to ruin said coy game.

You’re a conundrum to me. You wear that durag and are all tatted up … but you have this small frame you’re trying to bulk up and I really need you to know that you’re not going to get L.L.’s body. You’re just not. But I like the BGAs and the overall style. Yet, you spend your time talking to the black dudes in the club who I am sure are gay/bi or in the closet … or with the white boys. And I really don’t know too many hard core niggas who sport durags and have all these white friends. The whole thing intrigues me.

So, rest assured that I am going to continue to stare – and eventually, I’ll actually part my lips into a smile … cuz that’s what I do. But I’m not approaching you. That’s not my style – whether or not you remain just eye candy is really up to you. I’m just fine with jamming to whatever song my iPOD is blaring towards my eardrums while I work out and take in the view. You cute and everything … but, nah.

I’m sure you’ve got a similar letter on your blog – and I guess we’re at a standoff. Now, if you were L.L. … that’d be a WHOLE different story. I’d be over there yesterday. But you’re not – not matter how tight you tie that durag.


Sunday, April 6, 2008

I'd blow her

Every Man Has a Secret

I have been talking to "C" for nearly three years now ... and I know he was a warped sense of religion. For instance, he's uncomfortable with referring to God as "He" because he had a vision in which God refused to tell him whether He was male or female - apparently, gender is a human thing and not a God thing. So, it's "thy majesty." Not even MY magesty. "Thy."

We learned long ago not to broach the topic of religion because we are at completely different poles. We had a huge argument once that totally offended me and what I believe to be true about God and the Bible, thanks to growing up in a pew jumping protestant church, teaching bible school and giving sermons and even dressing up as a saved clown for the children. And, to boot, I was off to Bible School if it wasn't for my father who all but shook me violently until I understood that he wasn't with the idea. But that's a completely different story.

Anyway, so "C" prays every day to 'thy majesty' and is really (pun intended) religious about it. And he really wants me to pray everyday. Now, don't get me wrong - I know the value of prayer. But I have never been really consistent with it and I've just accepted that about me. It comes in waves ... and right now, the tide is LOW. So, why did he want to bring up the fact that I haven't been praying and that he's "noticed."

Am I crazy to have felt like he was being my dad and this was none of his business? I tried to manage the conversation with him but it got to the point that he says that he doesn't understand why I'm getting mad because we're talking about faith. Wait - I thought we were talking about prayer ... I'm unglued at this point because now you want to question my faith?!? If you know anything about my life right now, you would know that my faith is what is holding me together. I have said on many occasions recently, "The Lord has never let me down and he's not going to start now." It is my mantra right now as I stare in the face the harsh reality that I may soon not be able to make ends meet. I am being faithful.

So, the chip on his shoulder is really annoying and I turned off my cell phone so his text messages wouldn't bother me. I mean, soon he'll be like this:

And be the type of person who doesn't think the lyrics to this song are funny:


See, because even though I believe in God - I still have a sense of humor!

"C" I rebuke you in the name of Jesus, you damn mexican.


Thursday, April 3, 2008

Wisdom and Pain

On Monday, I had two wisdom teeth extracted. They were impacted and one was actually beginning to protrude through my gum! I could reach back there and flick at it with my nail and it would make that sound you hear when you flick your two front teeth to say FUCK YOU to whoever. (Is that like a greek thing? Whatever, focus Jack ... focus.) Except this time (I had the bottom two done several months ago) I decided to go with the gas. Nitrous Oxide. Have you heard of this stuff? It's a wonder it isn't higher on the list of abused "drugs." It's like oxyconton in breathable form.

When I had the bottom two pulled, I went complete sedation. This time money was more of a factor so I opted for the cheaper route. Hear me now and hear me very well: NEVER. EVER. DO THIS. It's this very weird state of being and you just kinda sit there numb to the world but totally aware of everything. And you can feel them poking and prodding and pulling at your teeth. And in my case, struggling with it. I could feel the pliers in my mouth and I could feel it crack the tooth ... yes, I was well aware. But, thanks to nitrous oxide, i didn't care.

While I was under, I learned that the dental assistant didn't like going to the fountain square office and that people had asked the oral surgeon about her and if she like going there. Now, I have NO FUCKING idea where this fountain square place is ... but they really ought to know better that to discuss this shit. I'm lying there numb, not deaf and stupid. At one point I opened my eyes and looked at the hygenist and she smiles. Fucking smiles ... you know what normal people do when someone smiles at them? They smile back - that's what they do! And doped up laying there in the chair with the oral surgeon's hands and equipment (i.e. PLIERS) in my mouth, my stupid ass tried to smile back.

So, wisdom teeth - so called because they want to crown later in life ... getting them out causes extreme pain ... these stictches in my mouth are a son of a bitch. And I got to thinking ... with wisdom comes pain? Or really, is wisdom a result of pain?

Maybe the nitrous hasn't worn off.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Straight men suck too

Did you hear about this? About this man who had sex with the umbrella hole of a picnic table?


Jay Leno mentioned it during his monologue the other night and questioned what the women in his town actually looked like that he would find a picnic table attractive. I thought that shit was funny.

In my research on this bullshit (yes, I looked it up - and, um, just be careful which sites you click on) I learned (from psychology today) the following:

"Inanimate object fetishes can be categorized into two types: form fetishes and media fetishes. In a form fetish, the object and its shape are important, such as high-heeled shoes. In a media fetish, the material of the object is important, such as silk or leather. "

I'm confused about the picnic table. Was it its flat rectangularness or it's being wood?

"...other common objects used by fetishists are panties, bras, slips, stockings, other intimate apparel, footwear and gloves. Common materials other than those listed above also include rubber and fur. "

Nope - doesn't say wood anywhere.

Must be rectangles - right?

I just don't get it.

Gay men suck

It's a catchy title, isn't it? But I suppose it's fair to say that the ones I meet online are the ones that are totally wack. And believe you me - I'm not surprised. Take for instance my tirade on another blog I was keeping for a while on my myspace page titled "Things that are suspect":

  • Hats: If in every picture you have you are wearing a hat, or some semblance of one (sombrero, yarmulke, durag, etc.) then i question your ability to continue to grow hair.
  • Sunglasses: This one really bugs me. I mean, it's night time and there aren't really any bright lights (like the sun) anywhere and yet you insist on wearing shades. Yes, this is a definite sign of a lazy eye.
  • No smile: That serious look only goes so far. I like it and everything, but you've got to find SOMETHING funny, right? Or is it that one of those front teeth is missing? I'm not partial to partials.
  • Body shots only: Seriously? We categorize you under "would be gorgeous if it wasn't for the face"
  • Presenting a state ID: Excuse me, but you drove here.
  • Using the term "laid back:" Let's get this straight - no one who is ACTUALLY laid back (in the truest definition of the term) refers to themselves as "laid back." So you're not fooling me, psycho, box-knife carryin' collector of bodies in the basement.
  • Multiple cell phone numbers: This one is cute. "Oh, but i use one only for texts and messaging and the other one for calls." I would like to say on i. "and the third one for taking orders in multiple kilo weights, and a fourth for my mommy to call me whenever she wants, and a fifth one I've painted red for when the commissioner needs to let me know i haven't notice the bat signal shining in the night sky." I'll pass.
  • inteligent: Many fit into this category. Notice the lonely "L." Let me just say, "i'm shore your a mensa candidate who's been done wrong four years"
  • Live alone: This one cracks me up. It wreaks of someone who just moved out of their parents' basement or is reminiscent of some lonely person who refers to themselves as "laid back" (see above)

So I'm not exactly surprised that this dude I had been talking to, who is 22 (that should explain it all), starts hinting at that he really is feelin' me. Look, we haven't met and I don't see the point in getting all caught up in the fantasy person I tend to make up in my head, so I keep it real and tell him that I like him but want to get to know him more.

[I should admit that I wasn't going NOWHERE with a 22 year old, but it was fun]

Well, he ventures into an interesting area - that of exclusivity. But get this - he wants to know that I'm not talking to anybody else. It got raw with honesty as I explained that I am making NO judgement calls until I meet people in person because I've been burned (severely) with that shit before.

He didn't like it - during our last conversation he ended it abruptly. The next day I texted him and he tells me that he's certain I'm mad because if he was me, he'd be pissed. I told him I was confused and what the hell was he talking about. Apparently, when he ended the call abruptly he said I'll call you back and thinks (I guess) I'm waiting by the phone.

Yeah - he's 22. Boo boo - I didn't even know you were supposed to call me back. Now move along and pick up your toys. The place's a mess.

She threatened me

I am trying to get the hang of this blog thing - trying to develop the same passion for blogging that so many, many others have. But right now, I find that it happens in spurts. Apparently, that's not good enough.

So, thejadednyer threatened to take me off of the top of her list of recommended blogs if I don't post. And this is total blackmail, ok? I really LOVE being at the top of that list (because it beats the hell out of where I always find myself in her list of blog topics - once between politics and religion) so here I am - and I just want to make it VERY clear that she is forcing me to do this on a consistent basis.

But I actually do have some things to say ... stay tuned.