I REALLY DON'T NEED THIS SHIT

Remember that waiter I briefly dated last fall/winter? Things ended badly, but we talked it out, and made it work since he still works next to where I do and it's just awkward...AGAIN. I though we were on the same page in terms of just being "friends", but he crossed the line last night, or rather tried mightily to.

For one thing, he was drunk as shit, so I won't take it as a compliment when he tells me I look "really cute". He still has feelings for me, and wanted to talk about it. That's fair, but...inviting me back to his place to spend the night, shit, I don't fucking think so. Or him inviting himself over to MY place. UGH.

I suggested a mutual place, namely a 4am bar so we can discuss this situation, but I didn't and don't want to put myself in a situation where more than talking can occur. Not helping matters is that he looked really cute last night. It was tempting, for sure, and I thought back to why and how I gave him chance to begin with.

Sorry if I sound harsh, or worse, arrogant, but I don't think work place relationships are a good idea. I realize the service industry is rife with such situations (booze + late nights = fucking, right?) but that doesn't mean I need to submit to this guy's advances. I'm under enough stress as it is.

MY NEW DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBOR CAN FUCK OFF

First conversation we had was today

ME: (Looking down the stairs): "Hi, I'm Justin!"

HER:" I know, you played the Black Keys really loud on Sunday night".

ME: "Yes, sorry, I didn't know you moved in...that place has been vacant for over a year".

HERE: "..."

ME:"OK, then..."

This new neighbor proceeded to mobilize the singular washer'dryer for the last 48 hours. I did not complain but I did remove her shit when she didn't and I need clean clothes for the weekend, specifically for work.

And then tonight, she had the balls to complain about my music again. BITCH. PLEASE. I don't want to start a war, but let's just say I feel a bit of entitlement living here as long as I have, and if she did not relize how thin these walls our..well, I shall teach her.

MY NEW ARCH-NEMESIS

My enemies are few yet various; Cinnamon is the chief culprit-it's implausible but that spice reduces me to a quivering mess. The lead singer from those terrible FreeCreditReport.com commercials is another, as is the entire city of Phoenix. I can go on, but I'll focus on my most recent arch-nemesis: MUZACK (see below).

That little green light glowing ominously at the top of that stack of A/V equipment is slowly draining my life force. Allow me to explain. One of the perks of my job (indeed-at times a requirement) is to set that bitch on fire with music via my iPhone. It's empowering to be able to make drunk people dance at the touch of a button. Really. Try it!

So it fucking sucked when the owner/Boss Man decided he wanted to provide our patrons with a more "consistent" experience, and installed a...GASP...Muzack machine. UGH X 100! One guy compared it to "trying to relax in the lobby of a Ramada Inn" and I can't agree more.

As a result, we turn that shit off and put on our own shit when the owner/managers are away. Tonight I got busted for doing this...I put on the Pandora channel for Arcade Fire... and was admonished. Are you fucking kidding me? Oh no! The National might come on next! Or maybe Interpol! Or Kings of Leon! The horror.

As a result certain co-workers and I will sneak on the contemporary Christian Rock channel, or 90's hits or...gulp, KidTunes, just to prove a point how awful an idea this is. And when the coast is clear, I pop on my iPhone, and FUCKING BLAST Kid Cudi, Screeching Weasel and/or My Morning Jacket.

And guess what? People love it. Attention bosses: it's called character. Being on the front line, communicating directly with the customer(s) and reacting according has always proved sucessful in my various occupations; whenever I'm over managed...things head south. And I'm only directly referencing music.

PS - I've invented various "accidents" to destroy that evil green glowing box, like spilling a pot of coffee on it, dropping a case of beer on it or disconnecting it and throwing at a bus. I'm open to suggestions, and will consider any and all that might be construed as an "accident". I'm only half kidding.

BACK ONLINE!

Fucking Christ, Comcast has been jerking me off for the best part of 36 hours, and as a result, I made a concerted effort to make any customer service representative's life HELL. I brought the full fury of a Chicagoan, with little to no reason. Basically I was a horrible asshole, but in my defense, I pay through the nose for my internet and cable TV, and yes, the weather played a part but they lied to me several times. So FUCK them. The following is a sample of the phrases I uttered:

[In an exaggerated Chicago accent]

"There are fucking planes landing at O'Hare and I can't access Hulu?"

"I lost 2 accounts today and about to lose a third thanks to your fucking bullshit".

"Are you seriously brushing me off? Fuck you."

Normally I'm not a total cocksucker, and have empathy for call center employees, after all I used to be one. But they kept screwing with me, so I hit back and kept fucking with them. It's the only way to get shit done with Comcast. And it's nothing personal. And with 20+ inches of snow on the ground, and sub-zero tempt's, I had nothing better to do.

And you know what? I'm going to call them back again, just to be a dick.

SELF-SERVING TEENAGE POETRY

A few months ago I found a cardboard box of old writing notebooks I managed to salvage from my volatile high school years. Many of which were/are cringe inducing, and looking back from today, clearly pointed to a self-hate that emanated from being in the closet, and/or feeling very much like a lonely outsider.

Often times I would show such "work" to friends or various girls I "dated"; one such girl got me involved with a bunch of richer kids that wanted to start a punk band, with the idea I would be the lyricist and also be the lead singer. That never went anywhere as I was far too shy to project my voice in front of other people.

Anyways...here's an example of the stupid, stupid shit going on in my head 15 years ago (fucking shit...that's half my life ago!). I'll provide a transcript below...

TOMMYROT

(11.20.95)

TODAY I'M FEELING RATHER NUMB/

MUCH LIKE AN UNEMPLOYED BUM/

INCESSANTLY PACING DOWN THESE STREETS/

LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO MEET

WILL I EVER FIND THE FRIEND/

I DON'T KNOW I'M LOOKING FOR/

CAN I AGAIN TOUCH A PERSON/

LIKE I ONCE DID BEFORE/

AS THE YEARS HAVE GROWN ON ME/

I'VE DISCOVERED WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ME/

NOT THE GREATEST OR THE WORST THING IN THE WORLD/

A HOPELESS MODERATE TRAPPED IN A FLAGRANT IMAGE OF WHAT I WANT/

AND WHAT I CAN NEVER HAVE/

SOMEONE I CAN NEVER BE/

CONTENT WITH JUST BEING A SPLIT IMAGE OF ME

TODAY I'M FEELING RATHER DUMB/

FIGHTING TO LIBERATE FROM THIS SLUM/

INCESSANTLY PACING DOWN THESE STREETS/

SYMPATHIZING FOR MY PATHETIC FEET

It could have been a Top 40 hit...NOT!

CRIBS IS STILL ON MTV?

"I don't want to watch Cribs, I hate that fucking show"

-Boyfriend of the woman running the liquor store

That show is still on the air? Seriously? I would have thought in this period of austerity that MTV would no longer be producing this most gluttonous of entertainment. Now, don't get me wrong, if you work hard you have every right to do whatever it is you want with your money. But, I reserve the right to get pissed of when the shitty bass player from Good Charlotte lives in a mansion and has 3 Ferrari's and a Rolls Royce. I mean, really. And the fact the these rich and "famous" people are willing to invite a camera crew to their house to show off - it smacks of poor taste.

And just when you thought it couldn't or wouldn't get ANY worse, MTV outdoes itself. Ever seen Teen Cribs? I nearly put my foot through the TV when I first saw that show. "Oh, that's my 2009 Audi S4 rolling on 22 inch mudered out dubs. Oh what's that? I get my learner's permit in 18 months." Ugh. That's awesome that Mommy and Daddy can afford to buy a fucking stable of ponies, but don't throw it in my face "Kyra".

Speaking of the parents, I love the floating picture in picture box, in which they explain they needed to $15 million mansion "to keep the family" together. Do they realize they are probably tearing apart the lives of other families? Don't some of these go home and ask their parents, "why don't I have have my own indoor basketball court and a on-call trainer?" Shit, I would.

All that being said, there are moments of sheer AWESOMENESS. Case in point: the Redman episode.

Redman - MTV Cribs - MyVideo

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF

For purposes of clarification, allow me to reiterate my employment situation; my last night of bouncing occurred the night after Christmas. The very same owners that closed the bar I was working at, are opening up a new bar, at which I have been promised 4 decent shifts; this is crazy awesome considering I'll be working along side people much, much more experienced than I am. I guess my 1 year stint eating shit as a Doorman paid off (as I was assigned waiting tables in addition to bar backing), but I digress.

The New bar was to open at the end of December, but that got pushed back to mid-January, then last weekend, which got pushed back to this weekend, and now the prospective opening date is now the first weekend in February. And it has nothing to do with the owners, and everything to do with the fucking assholes that run the permit office in Chicago. You'd think they would bend over backward to facilitate a new business and employ 25+ people, but this city is FUCKED when it comes to things like this.

So here I sit. I've taken 2 naps today out of sheer boredom. Episodes of "Friday Night Lights" can entertain me only so much, and I am out of things to clean. Oh, and it's been crazy bullshit COLD as fuck here this week; it's hard to motivate myself to go and walk to do things when it's -10 with the wind chill. I mean...I can deal with wicked cold, but this is straight up bullshit.

And here I remain. Listless, useless, and as a result reckless (I'm eating 'Shrooms tomorrow night). I've never wanted to work so fucking much as I do now; I like working, really, and even though being a Bar Back is a shit job, especially for someone with a college degree, I can't wait clear some tables, or SOMETHING. Fuck, anything besides sitting on my ass would be better.

TEN THINGS THAT ARE PISSING ME THE FUCK OFF RIGHT NOW

#1. My inability to rent out the extra bedroom in my apartment. I've tried and tried then REALLY FUCKING tried to rent it out, to no avail.

#2. Chicago experienced a mild Summer in 2009, which led to many to predict that the Winter would be akin to a vicious whore with ice running through it's veins. And thus far, they have been proven right.

#3. My fucking kitchen sink is also pissing me off. I've used way too much $1 Store brand "Liquid-Plummer" to and it's really beginning to piss me off when I can't get through 1 load of dished (hand washed) before the sink is full. Ugh.

#4. When I smoke outside on my porch I can see across a few yards to the next apartment building. They can too. There is this woman who tries to rock a trench coat that seems to stare at me, or rather burn holes through my skull from this "rival" porch.

#5. Cigarettes are more expensive than crack now. Did you know that? I don't smoke crack, never have, probably never will, but seriously, Cigarettes are retarded pricey. Quitting is my new imperative [I went 10 hours and only smoked 1 today!].

#6. The theater groupie that lived above me for 2+ years just moved out and didn't have the sense of decency to knock on my door and say "hey...take care!" or something similarly awkward. What is "smacks fist on forehead-ish" is that 2, instead of 1 theater groupie moved in. 'Nuff said.

#7. It's Monday and I still have no firm date for when my new job starts. It should be sometime this week, provided the city of Chicago's building permit people get their shit together.

#8. A complete and total lack of any sort of romantic attachment is totally getting me down. For real. Even having a prospect would be great, but alas...

#9. Perhaps this goes without saying...but the 'ol fucked up shoulder is STILL giving me issues. And since I have an aversion to both pain killers and Advil-ish shit, I'm "grinning" and baring the pain.

#10. R.I.P. Aunt Karen.

THAT FUCKING DESK!

Back in late November, a friend and I were rolling through Evanston for some random reason, when we came across a metal desk, just like the one pictured below in some one's front yard, with a giant "FREE!" sign on it. Sensing this to be some divine opportunity, we pulled over and shoved this heavy fucking desk into the back of my friend's old Chevy Blazer.

And there it remained. Let me tell you...if you ever need to borrow a 1993 Chevy Blazer with a metal desk in the back to get to work, think twice. On 2 occasions I was concerned that the whole hot mess would roll when making a turn. But I digress.

Finally, on Sunday we pulled the desk out of the back of the truck. The reason? We needed room for my friend's pot dealer to sit. So - we left the fucking desk in the narrow corridor behind my apartment building.

Then last night, realizing that my landlord would not appreciate my storing of the fucking desk where I left it, I recruited another friend/next door neighbor to help me move it inside to the basement. This friend isn't a big guy, but he is a professional caddy, meaning that he can carry 2 ass hole's golf bags around for 8+ hours. He's strong.

I, however am a professional asshole, and as such, have the muscles (or lack thereof) to prove it. So when Caddy Friend struggled to literally hold up his end, I was shocked, as I had no problem! Even more shocking, and to our mutual astonishment, I successfully and single handily FLIPPED the fucking desk end over end.

The result? Today I woke up feeling like I was in a car accident. My shoulders (especially the recently broken one), back arms, legs, hell my EVERYTHING is so fucking sore. But at least I have pot to help dull the pain!

THE END

I WISH I HAD SOMEONE TO COME HOME TO

Work tonight was pretty good; I was firing on all cylinders, which perhaps is the result of feeling like utter shit earlier this week. My mood could have been described accurately as jovial even, or overtly social, but certainly not my usual stoic "Doorman" persona. Not at all.

But that mood went straight to shit when I had to wait 25+ minutes for a fucking CTA train to rear it's ugly head, followed by a 15-ish minute wait for the corresponding bus. But this is trivial, and not what's really bothering me.

If...I had one wish, it would be that someone I love is waiting for me to come home. Someone thinking, "fuck, I hope he didn't get robbed/shot/stabbed, where the hell is he?" Alas, there is no such person in my life. And that eats at me in such a way I cannot put it into words.

And on the other hand, there really isn't anyone in MY life I can put forth such feelings toward. Wouldn't that be nice if I could positively project these feelings in a positive manner upon another man? Can you tell I'm really fucking stoned?

Maybe I just need to adopt a cat.

YOU'RE KIDDING ME RIGHT? NO? FUCK!

So, yeah, my life fucking sucks. Know how much it sucks? Read on...

Yesterday I intended to hit up the post office, and also Blockbuster (I recently tried, and subsequently canceled my membership - NetFlix is so, so, so, much better). Since I still have/had use of my brother's girlfriend's awesomely awful Saturn, I thought "hey me, this will be a piece of cake"!

Well, the stupid car had a flat. And I couldn't change it with only my left arm. So I did what I could and walked to the post office...and once there was reminded it was FUCKING COLUMBUS DAY. They still "celebrate" that? Like, really?

I could have left the POS Saturn on the street as it were...but they are cleaning the streets today, so not to incur a parking ticket, the car had to be moved. Thankfully, my buddy came over to help out. But when we went to pull the spare out of the trunk, we found, and I'm NOT joking, 40-45 empty bottles of beer.

These were not mine (I prefer cans of shitty beer to glass bottle of micro brews). Three times over, I thought I removed all of them, but again, and again, and yet again, my buddy kept finding more. Just for fuck's sake, I texted my bro's girlfriend/the owner of the car and said bottles, she claimed she was intending to recycle them. Like, really? I hardly doubt that excuse would work out if I had been pulled over by the police.

Not as a direct result, but overall, I'm honestly considering moving the FUCK out of Chicago. I've way exceeded my threshold for fucking bullshit. Although, having said that, I fear more bullshit will be waiting for me wherever I might relocate.

CROWS ARE SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO MY WINDOW

*The title is a Widespread Panic lyric

I feel SO MUCH FUCKING better. Typing with both hands again, and have discarded my arm sling (temporarily) 2 hours ago. Tomorrow I go see an Orthopedic specialist, who will most likely make me wait hours only to be told to do random arm exercises, but I'm going anyway.

And taking the fucking bus, since I have developed a sincere, and urgent desire to do whatever I can for myself. I'm not a fan of being waited-on/hovered-over. Speaking of, my perhaps worst nightmare might have just come true: my MOM WANTS TO FLY IN to take "care" of me.

UGH.

Don't get me wrong, I love my Mom, really, but having her stay here? Giving up my bedroom for a week? Sleeping on the couch with a bum arm/shoulder? I don't see how that helps; in fact, I think it would make things worse. And that's not an easy thing to tell your Mom.

Know what else doesn't help? Yesterday I was at Target (thanks Ex-Roomie!) and my Step-Dad called me to check in. Somehow, in the course of our conversation, I mentioned that I was managing my pain with smoking a bit of weed. No big deal. Shit, he's given ME pot before, which I smoked in front of them both!

Well, like they say, "loose lips sink ships", Step-Dad said something to my Mom, and she's freaking-the-fuck-out. FUCKING SHIT. Unnecessary stress to say the least. So I smoke pot. Who cares? So what? [bonus points if you get that reference] I'm not injecting fucking heroin here.

Oh, and my Dad will be here this week for a wedding. He's staying here for at least 2 nights, maybe more. I love him too, really, but...I just want life to return to normal. I want to be able to do things for myself; with my right hand. Soon.

AN OPEN LETTER TO A DRAG QUEEN

This post addresses what I could/should have said when I verbally harassed over the course of several hours by a drag queen while on Fire Island. Her comments began innocuously enough, accusing me of "not being gay" then devolved into "I'm getting a straight vibe off of you" to her going out of her way to tell other random people that "he says he's gay but he's not". Needless to say, I was less than amused, and at one point seriously pissed the fuck off. I held back because I generally shy away from confrontation when drunk, as that usually precludes a productive conversation. Anyways, here goes... 

Dear Drag Queen,

First off, you're shoes are fucking ugly. Did they come with the dress you picked up at TJ Maxx? Could have fooled me. Also, I was not previously aware that they manufacture lace up pumps in a size 13. Oh, and you have bad, bad blow job hair.  

But enough with the childish behavior (although after you made fun of what I was wearing I feel justified in making fun of your appearance, but I won't go there, well except for when I just did). I have a question for you, Oh Holy Overload of all that is Gay; do you see this flag below? 

That's a gay pride flag, a symbol I would have to assume that you have seen before at least once if not more. Now, I know I'm not a "stereotypical" homosexual man, and I wouldn't presume to know which exact "color" I am...but there are a lot of colors on that flag, and I'm certain one of them represents me. See, the gay community is like, diverse and shit. That might come as a shock to you, or perhaps you just needed a fucking clue. Consider this it. 

You know, usually when people criticize me, it's "helpful" criticism, which I consider a gift of sorts. I don't pretend to know all the answers and I take well meaning comments to heart. You, however, seem content to be a spiteful human being with little or no redeeming qualities, one whom "gets off" on putting other people down. Thus, you have no purpose on this earth, let alone in the greater gay community. 

Furthermore, do you have any idea how much effort it has taken me to come to this point in life? I know some people come out fairly easily, that was not the case with me. It took a LOT of fucking pain, tears and blowjobs to get where I am today, so please forgive me for being offended at your backhanded remarks. You fucking bitch. 

Sincerely, 

Justin

PS - You SUCK at life.  

I hope that didn't come off as too bitter, but the bullshit noise that person was making really bothered me, which seemed to be the intent. Before I came out I thought the gay community was all about inclusiveness, and I still believe/hope it is. But when I encounter someone who should be open-minded, but acts in a fashion to suggest anything but, I feel the need to call that person on their shit.  

YEAH, I'M FUCKING GAY

Facebook and I have a love/hate relationship. On the one hand, it's great (usually) to reconnect with old friends. Example: this afternoon a girl that I crushed on in the 5th grade just found me on that site; she even reminded me that I was the first boy to ever go out of my way to call her...

...which might explain why she thought me listing that I was into men on Facebook was a joke. In fact, I get this a lot, especially from people I haven't seen nor heard from in years (mostly people from grade school/high school). 

According to them, it's comes as a total fucking shock I'm a homo, but to me it's like, DUH motherfuckers! I mean, if an old friend from back in the day came out to me, I wouldn't ask them if they were joking. I'd take it seriously and give them the benefit of the doubt.   

Whatever, I'm not pissed or anything, but I am getting kinda tired of having to "prove" that I'm gay. What's it gonna take? A YouTube video of me blowing some twink? Not gonna happen! Y'all are just gonna have to take my word for it.