TO LAY ME DOWN...

...or rather lay this blog down. I have yet to make a decision, but after blogging all these years, I feel like this is a beginning to grow more than a little stale, hence me infrequent posting as of late. My life just isn't that interesting, although it is slightly, increasingly satisfying - but I doubt that makes for a compelling read.

The other day it occurred to me that it would be more interesting if I crash and burned, and went on some wild meth-fueled/coke binge/bath house orgy; but I had I a quiet weekend concerning myself with getting back to work, sleeping and not spending almost any money. And camping out at the boyfriend's place.

I feel less and less of a need to reflect upon my life within this space, because of 3 reasons:

#1: There seems to be some compulsion to share crazy shit going on in my life, but there isn't any with which to even embellish upon.

#2: Embellish or not, some people seem to re-interpret even the simplest of my posts, and quite frankly I have zero interest in correcting anyone.

#3: When I am being totally, nakedly honest, I get second guessed, mostly indirectly. Or worse, mis-interpreted. Perhaps that is a deficient in my writing skills...

All that being said, and OVER-ALL...I just kinda want to be left alone. The people near to me I trust are all I care for now, and I have a lot of work to do, which does not involve winning popularity contests, or catering to the whims of causal friends, nor catering to the shifting winds.

Parting gift:

PPS - Wish I was that cool.

MY TOLERANCE HAS VANISHED

For the booze, that is. I used to drink like a fucking champion. One time, in band camp...wait, no. But one time I drank a half of whiskey within an hour. John Belushi style. Didn't even bother with a shot glass.

I've gone through periods of soberness, but nothing like now. And although it's because of my totally sober boyfriend, I'm not trying to get better for me, but for me. That being said, when I do drink, I drink like a fish starving for water. Like I used to.

Funny thing is though, I can't hang like I used to. Either it's the slow ageing process, or "maturity", or the legal system (I'm literally not allowed to legally drink) when I do...I'm a FUCKING PUSSY. And coming from a long, long line of heavy drinkers, this is not easy to admit, let alone accept.

Working in a bar hasn't helped, nor has the court ordered outpatient therapy (that I'm still paying off), but the few AA meetings has, actually, brought me some peace of mind. I refuse to believe that I will never have another drink, because I'm sure I will. I just wonder if there is a "right" way to do so.

Probably not.

MY FIRST TRUE VALENTINE'S DAY

Early in one's life, the concept of Valentine's Day is presented, fairly or not. Examples include one's parents, or friend's parents, or implied/forced reciprocation by middle school teachers. My parent's were...sorta romantic, but I learned about love in middle school. Or maybe that's what confused me.

I do recollect collecting Valentine's from girl's, and also sending them. Little messages scratched out on construction paper, so innocent. Or exchanging candies, etc. There isn't much else to do to distract one during a cold Chicago winter. Or Catholic middle school! I used to give my homeroom teacher presents, for God Sake.

Anywho, speeding up to yesterday, things have been going AWESOME with T, and I really wanted to make a special night of it. Somehow we comprised on "celebrating" it on Monday, not Tuesday, and getting burgers and going bowling. Simple, cheap, we even watched 2 episodes of "Pawn Stars".

This might seem innocent and simple, but walking home, we stopped in the middle of a street and started kissing, like we never did before. During a brief stop he remarked "I never kissed when it was snowing" but he always wanted to (remember he's from Florida) so we made it happen, and held hands on the walk home.

He makes me happy.

MY OTHER "JOB"

For my penance, or in legal speak from my DUI, I am to perform 200 hours of community service. Working for free sucks, but at least I wasn't required to don an orange jump suit and pick up trash with the Sheriff's department looking over my shoulder (aka "Cool Hand Luke") as has been known to happen. That shit isn't cool. At all.

To repay my debt to society, I was allowed to choose my form of service; I figured what better way than to benefit the gay community in Chicago than donate my time and energy to an organization that directly provides health benefits to "family", as it were. So I work, for free, in a thrift store - the proceeds of which support said cause.

It's been years since I worked in retail, and although there are many tasks that need attending to, my favorite, by far, is clothing salvage. This task requires digging, sorting and laughing at the shit clothes people donate. Example: just today I was pulling stuff out of broken cardboard box, and mixed in with random GAP sweaters, I found...gasp...a leather thong!

The image above is what I started with earlier this week. It's about 12 feet tall, 22 feet long and 15 feet wide. It's a LOT OF SHIT. I sort through every bag and determine what can be sold in house, and what needs to be salvaged, that is sent to 3rd world countries, or recycled into what-the-fuck ever clothes can be remade into. Perhaps park benches. Or clothes for pets.

In three hours today I filled about 100 large garbage bags of shit that won't sell, but also found a plethora of quality stuff; in fact just today I found and bought a pair of black leather Kenneth Cole dress shoes - similar to a pair I bought years ago for $120, these set me back a not so whopping $2.75! So this shit "job" has it's benefits.

Far and away, the second best benefit is all these new people I've met. Punks, the Elderly, Lesbians, etc - every time I go in I meet a new and interesting person with at least a somewhat fascinating background. But on the real, it feels SO GOOD to simply help a worthwhile cause, at least in a minor way.

I HAD A GOOD DAY TODAY

Today began (begin) wiping the sleep out of my eyes, with perhaps the most attractive man I've ever been with; that's to brag, but I felt like I was in a dream, while I simultaneously pulled crust from my eyes, removed my right arm that kept him comfy all night, and gently kissed him on his cheek/arm/lips.

The night before, we agreed to wake up at 9am sharp, but 9:30am came around and we reluctantly pulled ourselves apart. It wasn't easy. We are like sick puppies in the morning, refusing to go away, full of not so gentle kissing and other things I won't mention. Human magnets. Needing to wash our bodies of sweat and cum, but barely bothering.

Anyways, I left and jumped on the train, the bus, the walk home, took a great shower, all the while thinking about how lucky I am I am and also how I pray I don't fuck this up. AND DON'T. FUCK. THIS. UP. In between kissing his neck, I dream of kissing his neck. It's that fucking real. To paraphrase a lame quote from some movie I can't remember, he makes me want to be a better MAN.

Outside of that noise, whew, I rocked the thrift store today, the one I am killing my community service time at. So there's that. And I feel GREAT doing it; even though I'm far from doing my time, I love working at this place. Organization is my jam, and I'm jammin' it. I tossed so much bullshit clothes today, it felt good.

Cheers to tomorrow!

I'M GOING STIR CRAZY

The "Stir Crazy" phenomenon is common this time of year for people, such as myself that live in Northern Climates. Obviously, it's been made worse with my reduced mobility. Although I can get around better now with this it's still no, ahem, walk in the park. It takes a ridiculous amount of time to do the things I am accustomed to. Like walking.

And although the help I've received from my friends and family, not to mention the hot fucking things the guy I'm seeing does to me, I still prefer to do things for myself. I've always been independent; despite my shortcomings, I pride myself on getting shit done not only for myself, but also for others. Thus my current frustration.

I have at least 3 or 4 more weeks of hobbling around; money is an issue too in that, yes, I am receiving Worker's Comp, but it's not close to paying my bills - although I'll make it work. Oh, and my co-worker's have established a slush fund for me, which is amazing and so sweet of them. But I like to earn my money. Ugh.

In the meantime, I am attempting to embark on various projects, such as learning plumbing (my kitchen sink is screwed up), organizing my pictures and writing - or rather dreaming up concepts of how to apply my latent talents. That being said, I would stab someone for the ability to get back to the gym. Or be able to work my shitty little job.

Be grateful for your health!

MY LEFT FOOT

Months ago I injured myself at work while moving a barrel of beer; although it landed on my toes, I was lucky. Nothing broke and although my big toe is still bruised I emerged relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, I had a another, much worse incident last Wednesday, and I wasn't as lucky.

While putting kegs away, one slipped out of my hands and dropped square on the ridge of my left foot, instantly breaking it in several places. The pain of 150+ pounds dropping from 4 feet on a sensitive area of my foot made me cry like within an instant. Needless to say, I did NOT finish out my shift that night.

Instead I went directly home, in the process calling Ty to come over, but when I got home I passed out from the pain. The next morning I felt awful from the pain, but a very close second was realizing that Ty had stopped by and I missed 8 of his calls. I was worried he would never call me again.

But he did and came over the next night, the next two in a row (he's a sweetheart). Whew. My bigger worry is that I am going to be out of action, work wise for about 6 weeks or so. My boss and the owner of the place of employment assure me I qualify for workman's comp, but only for my hourly wages (not tips).

Money issues aside, I worry how I will deal with being physically incapacitated for a long, long time. Thank God I have a hot guy to keep me company, but, still, I am already so fucking bored watching television and movies or reading for hours at a time. I want to get out and about, not to mention actually work. Or be in terrible pain.

Fuck. Me. I know I'll get through this, and my friends and family have been great, but, ugh, Ugh, UGH! Not ideal to say the least. But I reckon this could be a blessing in disguise, in that it will provide me time to re-consider certain things, mostly my employment horizons, not to mention certain creative endeavors.

PS - I'm not taking anymore of the pills I was issued, they make me sick.

"SEXTING" @ WORK

Phone sex has always seemed like a slightly humorous concept to me, although the few times I have engaged said activity, I have enjoyed it - not necessarily in a "sensual" way, more like in a playful way. I've always injected a modicum of sarcasm within my romantic endeavors.

Anyways, last night I got this and the following texts from T:

[I should note he is still out of town]

T: "Are you at work?"

ME: "Yeah, but not too busy, what's up?"

T: "Well, I am driving and will be home soon and wanted to have phone sex".

ME: "I just quit and will be home in 5 minutes :)"

T: "Haha, maybe we can just send each other dirty messages".

To further the context of this situation, we have never done anything like this before, and with my boss looming over me, not to mention my co-workers, it was difficult to even begin to think of anything remotely dirty nor sexy to text T...so I went into default sarcasm mode.

ME: "I want to use your thighs as earmuffs...because it's really cold tonight".

T: "HAHAHA, shut up!"

From then on we actually started "sexting" as the kids call it, and my God, it was fucking hot! At first we both improvised fantasies that will probably never happen (not if I don't have my way) and then we brought it back back down to earth, describing the favorites things we have liked doing with each other, or rather, to each other.

And then he told me I made him cum. Mind you, at this point my boss and her boyfriend are on the other side of the bar, sipping beer, with the bartender next to me doing weird goofy crazy dance moves (fucking Improv actors - love 'em) and I'm trying to play it cool...but I have a massive B-O-N-E-R.

Thank God I wasn't wearing skinny jeans, and Thank God it was dark and Thank God again I was behind a bar wear no one could see anything below my waist. Besides the obvious bulge, I was leaking pre-cum like an off shore drilling rig operated by BP. I had to deftly excuse myself to smoke outside in the cold to calm down.

CAN NOT WAIT FOR HIM TO COME BACK TO CHICAGO.

THE UNIVERSE LIKES ME

Where to begin. Well, for one thing, "T" randomly visited me a at work yesterday. I'm not big on surprises, but that was an awesome one. He only stayed for a bit, we shared a smoke and made out in the alley like teenagers. That cute fucker left me with a massive boner. And I was wearing skinny jeans! So insensitive. But AWESOME.

Also, in last night news, I had my iPhone plugged into the sounds system behind the bar, and I tripped on the cord, smashing the glass on the face of said phone. Sucks, however it's over 3 years old, so I ordered up a new one today from AT&T...for 99 cents. Fucking awesome. I even sprang for priority shipping for an extra $5.

I decided to stay home for the holidays; roommate is flying to Poland for 12 days or so (broken ankle and all, but that's another story) and I elected not to join my family-in-law in rural Michigan. And "T" will be in Florida, so it's going to be a quiet one, but I'm really looking forward to it. Can you pronounce "Stay-Cation"?

My only complaint, as I see it, is that the fucking sun has decided to ignore the Chicagoland area this entire week. I'm drinking copious amounts of orange juice to compensate. Also, making out with boys and letting me fuck them. And working my ass off...and taking care of my roommate (she fucked her ankle swing dancing) and dealing with plumbing issues that I won't go into detail about here.

Basically, what I'm getting at, is as the year draws to an end, I hope you and yours had a good one (I didn't) and that next year is WAY BETTER than this one. I'm going to spend the next few days resting my body and my mind, and establishing goals for the next year. The least of which is not working in a fucking bar anymore.

So...H-A-P-P-Y-H-O-L-I-D-A-Y-S. Let's make 2012 a good one!

WHOA, I HAVE MONDAY NIGHT OFF

Since April I have have worked every fucking (mostly) bullshit Monday night, a shift I inherited from a former co-worker. But tonight I was left off the schedule, and THANK GOD. Instead of making shit for tips, looking after the bartender and not seeing friends, I am a free man!

And..the Sober Guy I'm seeing, T, offered to make me dinner not only for me, but also for his Roommate, and her girlfriend. Pretty. Fucking. Rad. I have no idea what he's making, but it really doesn't matter.

I'm both excited and nervous; as the days go by, it seems more and more like an actual REAL relationship, one that has the potential to change my life for the better (not drinking). Plus, he's fucking HOT. What I did to deserve this person's attention...I don't know.