SO I AM 32...

...and I like it. The solo celebration took place past Midnight by cleaning my place up, ripping the window a/c unit out of my window and wondering where these "kids" are making loud drunken sounds.

At this hour, at this age...I am thinking about where thought I would be/should be, but at the same time, will sleep soundly knowing that I am in a good place. Not financially secure, nor romantically, but tethered to a place I LOVE and surrounded by good people.

And as I slather lotion on my one and only tattoo I think about the things I am grateful for. Soon this awful Summer weather will die out, a new love will be found, and my job will find me even more indispensable.

These are good things.

I CUT MY HAIR (AND HAD MY EYEBROWS TRIMMED)

For the last year and a half plus, I wore my hair in a decidedly "shaggy" fashion, not unlike Justin Beiber but less kept. Finally, I reached my breaking point when I couldn't insert headphones into my ears without trapping hair in there. So I had my hair cut off, over 6 inches in places, and it feels SO fucking good!

My boss was struggling to define his positive feelings towards this change, mostly, he seemed to say how more "mature" I look, as befitting a man about to turn 32 years of age. It was time. Funny though about the little changes; my fitted baseball caps fit yet again and I had to bring in the chin strap on my bike helmet.

On the same day I got this shit cut, I ended it with the 23 y/o Fuck Buddy. It was getting too real, in that either it was going to turn into an actual relationship, or not, and I choose the latter. He's too young, I got too much else to deal with and just wasn't feeling it were the reasons I gave. No sense in pretending otherwise.

So I am unattached, clear of mind, and without a roommate for the next week (she's visiting her family in Poland). I feel good, better in fact than I have in a long while. Summer is drawing to a close, work is good, and I'm turning 32 y/o next Sunday. Life is good, my place is spotless and I'm anticipating my next relationship.

WOOT.

HAPPY 5TH!

This year I celebrated the holiday in a most American way, I worked...all fucking weekend. At first I was pissed about it, and wanted to do nothing more than chill at a friend's BBQ and get ripped on beer and whiskey. But in retrospect, I am glad I avoided the crazy shit going in the streets, parks and backyards of Chicago.

It wasn't a total loss of a weekend though. I cleaned the hell out of my apartment, but more importantly, went on a third date with a special guy that I really like! Actually, it was more of a "let's hang at my place and take each other's pants off" kind of thing, but a date nonetheless, or rather...of sorts. Still, it rocked.

The giant fireworks display so integral to his holiday wasn't part of my agenda, although I did blow off some roman candles with Chef in the alley behind the bar. That was fun. No one lost any fingers or eyes, we all had a few drinks (actually more than a few) and everyone got home safely. I consider that a solid and successful holiday.

Hope yours was too.

WHO DOES LAUNDRY AT THIS UNGODLY HOUR? ME!

It's been a fucked up week, to say the least, and I think it's manifesting itself in a series of bizarre, strange and terrible "dreams" that have contributed to my latent propensity for insomnia. Here's a quick run-down of the shit I've experienced this week:

-Might have to fly to Phoenix and propose an intervention for my Mom (for drinking like a Rock Star, and not in a good way). My Stepfather is struggling, but being patient, but me being available to chat on the phone is only going so far.

-I got a new (another) job! And almost lost my current one, although I think I saved it. I start tomorrow at a fancy Sushi restaurant (one of the best in the city, I'm told). Did I mention I know nothing about Sushi? Because I don't, but I'll learn.

-The second go around with a guy I dated 2 years ago imploded this week...and out of nowhere the young (24 y/o) bi-guy got back in contact with me. He doesn't want a traditional relationship, just a weekly hook-up type thing. And that's fine by me. I don't have time, nor energy for much else.

-My Roommate nearly burning this apartment building to the ground the other night; she was making bread pudding and left the oven, and a stove top burner on for...oh, 5 hours? I came home and my eyes were on FIRE. I almost passed out from the carbon monoxide present in the air.

-Last night I was at a random party, and was told by a good friend of my elder brother that he's jealous of my hair (?). I haven't gotten a hair cut since March so this shit is shaggy, and curly. But the women love it (like I care, but it is flattering). But if one more person refers to me as Justin Bieber, I might hit them.

-I ate a bunch of 'shrooms last Sunday night, while at work (only had 35 minutes left) and began hallucinating; I was trying to text a friend and the characters (letters/numbers) were swirling off the face of my iPhone. That was...fun? Drank a bunch of whiskey too.

-This might be obvious, but this is the worst Summer ever, weather-wise. It's forecast to be 93, with 87% humidity today. I know it's typical for Chicagoans to be ready for fall around this time of year; I'm ready for fucking January.

-I'm waiting for my laundry to dry as I write this, and having a much deserved (in my opinion) cocktail, and then going into work at 9:30am. If my life gets any more weird...I don't know, guess I'll deal. Got no other choice. Right?

REMEBER BELIEVING IN SANTA?

I do, although I didn't remember doing so until recently; I was walking down a street near my place when a guy dressed as Santa was walking around (I'm not sure why) and a little kid FREAKED THE FUCK OUT, which I used to do too.

Christmas used to be a huge deal to me; since the age of 9 or 10 I was the one pushing my parents to buy more, More and MORE Christmas lights (early sign of eventual gay-dom?) and I would spend so much time outside hanging them on the house that my hands would go numb from the cold.

One particular memory I have of Christmas, was way, Way, WAY back in 1987. I was 8 and at the point when I knew Santa Claus was bullshit, but I still emotionally invested in the belief that Santa would drop off a truck load of Lego's. Or at least a sweet-ass R/C car. Of course I usually received ugly sweaters, but I digress...

This one night in particular I remember lying in my bunk bed and "hearing" the sound of reindeer on the roof, and getting all excited - to the point that I exhausted myself and fell asleep. In reality, it was my parents, drunk, and running up and down the stairs to put presents under the tree.

God - I am so painfully a Catholic boy.

HAPPY PLANT!

A certain sharp eyed reader from Canada should recognize the thing there on the lower right, one night when we got LIT the fuck up. For those of you that does not apply to, it's a creepy dog/wind-mill thing, and although it scares me, it's now a member of my household.

Speaking of members of my household, that plant pictured above has followed me around for the better part of 5+ years. I almost tossed it out the other day, but was reminded by a friend of mine of said plant's history*.

It's been slowly dying (no thanks to me - or maybe because of me) and a friend suggested I re-pot it. So much so, that he drove me to the nearest Home Depot this very afternoon, and... VIOLA(sp?)! A new plant is born!

*This plant was originally bought by my Dad, for his old place in the Chicago burbs.

TEDDY BEAR HELPER

Today I was cleaning out a closet when I came across a cache of OLD pictures. My elementary school facebook group is freaking out at some of the funny old pictures I posted. Good times. In this picture, I was either in 3rd or 4th grade, sporting my awesome Catholic school uniform. Damn, my hair used to be fucking BLONDE!

LITTLE BIT OF FEEL GOOD GOES A LONG WAY

27 years, and 364 days ago Mama Guy From Chicago's water broke...AND THE WORLD WAS NEVER THE SAME!

Papa Guy From Chicago was on a business trip (thanks Dad) although Grandpa Guy From Chicago was present for my birth, which required Mama Guy From Chicago to get her belly cut open, since I didn't want to go the traditional route. How fitting.

Thanks to my Mama's recent call, I just got to relive the excruciating details of my birth. Apparently, I was not a screamer and on the way home from the hospital in Yorkshire, on the outskirts of Toronto, I slept, well, like a baby. But this caused my mother at one point to think "her baby was dead".

I may have come into this world quietly, but I will not won't be leaving as such! And in the meantime, I plan to RAWK with my CAWK out (please, someone hide my iPhone from me). Let's celebrate with some music, shall we? Yes, we most DEF shall!

Jamie Lidell "Little Bit of Feel Good"