OK, so, I got off work at 6 am on Friday. Went to my brother's house to walk and feed the dog. Tried to get some sleep, but the dog wanted to play, and wouldn't leave me alone. I think I managed to get about an hour. Back to my place, and I'm awake all day.
Off to work at 8:45pm, get off work at 6 am. Bus fiasco. As in, during the half hour I was standing at the bus stop, 6 buses should have driven by. None did. NONE. When one finally did drive by, he actually drove by me, and then noticed there was someone at the stop.
Went to Elle's house to help her move. Thankfully, she let me crash in her rather comfy bed for an hour and a half before we started the moving. She also had EVERYTHING packed up already, except for the bed and refrigerator. This is one of those times where her CDO comes in handy. (Yes, I have to put it in alphabetical order, just to mess with her.) We got everything put into the truck in about an hour. Mostly because there was 7 of us. That made it pretty easy.
Off to the Ferry!
We go to Bremerton, and I am in awe of her new place. And it's cheap, too! A 2 bedroom, 1 bath, HOUSE in downtown, 10 minute walk from the ferry, for $900. I almost pay that much for my shitty little apartment in West Seattle!
Unloading took even less time, and we only had 6 people for the unload. Then we had pizza, bullshitted about politics, and got back on the ferry.
Went back to my brother's house to feed and walk the dog. Back to my house, but with another bus disaster. I thought I'd be slick and try to work the bus system like my own personal driver, but didn't remember that it's Saturday, and apparently, some buses just don't run at times that I want them to. So, instead of walking a quarter mile to catch a bus that went a block from my place, I ended up taking one two miles out of the way, and then starting to walk home, and then waiting a half hour for a bus because they were running late. There were 5 people on the bus.
How the hell can you be running late, when you don't have a shitload of people, and there's barely any traffic?
So, I left my brother's place at 4:15, and got home at 6. All because I didn't want to walk a quarter mile to wait for 20 minutes for one bus, and ended up walking 2 miles anyway, and waited 30 minutes for a different bus. Bad decision on my part.
Got home, took a nap, and went to work. Yet another bus debacle. Another bus didn't show up, so I had to walk to a different stop, and the buses there were all late, as well. So, I didn't get to work early as usual. I managed to make it there on time, though.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
The Cake is a Lie
For some reason, I can't sleep.
I get home, go to bed, put on a movie, and lay there as the 3 ring circus of my mind kicks into high gear.
The way it used to be, I would get drunk nearly every night, and pass out. That kept my head from kicking into overdrive. Now that I work nights, I don't go out very often at all. So, I don't drink, except twice a month. Every other payday.
I'm exhausted. I sleep about 3 hours on days I'm not so lucky, and about 5 hours on days that I am.
I've tried so many things to help. Melatonin, trazadone, NyQuil, blacking out my bedroom, turning off everything and just laying there until I fall asleep, watching movies, reading. Anything that I can think of that would get me to sleep in the past isn't working.
Now, it only seems like my body wants to sleep when I have something to do, like work. Thankfully, I've gotten used to functioning on little sleep over the past several years. I just know, though, that when I DO get a good night's sleep, I will probably crash for about a day and a half.
Plus, this weekend, I'm dog/house sitting for my brother. So, I get there about 7 am, walk the dog, feed it, and it wants to play. I try to go to sleep, but she keeps bothering me. Oh, well. I'll get to sleep eventually.
I get home, go to bed, put on a movie, and lay there as the 3 ring circus of my mind kicks into high gear.
The way it used to be, I would get drunk nearly every night, and pass out. That kept my head from kicking into overdrive. Now that I work nights, I don't go out very often at all. So, I don't drink, except twice a month. Every other payday.
I'm exhausted. I sleep about 3 hours on days I'm not so lucky, and about 5 hours on days that I am.
I've tried so many things to help. Melatonin, trazadone, NyQuil, blacking out my bedroom, turning off everything and just laying there until I fall asleep, watching movies, reading. Anything that I can think of that would get me to sleep in the past isn't working.
Now, it only seems like my body wants to sleep when I have something to do, like work. Thankfully, I've gotten used to functioning on little sleep over the past several years. I just know, though, that when I DO get a good night's sleep, I will probably crash for about a day and a half.
Plus, this weekend, I'm dog/house sitting for my brother. So, I get there about 7 am, walk the dog, feed it, and it wants to play. I try to go to sleep, but she keeps bothering me. Oh, well. I'll get to sleep eventually.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
I couldn't think of anything fun that happened today.
I love bacon. I can't get enough of it.
So much so, that I've actually cooked 5 pounds of bacon for a meal.
I've gone into a restaurant, and ordered a plate of bacon.
If I could could get away with it and live, I would eat nothing but bacon. All the time.
I have bacon salt, bacon bandages and bacon lip balm.
If you ever want to get me a present, bacon is a great idea.
Ok, not really. But it is the main reason that I am not a vegan.
I cannot express how much bacon means to me.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Icicles on my.....
I'm not one of those people who forgets what the weather is like every year. But I am one to bitch about it.
HOLY SHIT ON A RITZ. It's fucking cold out.
Waiting for the bus, as usual, at the corner of Fauntleroy and Alaska. The wind is blowing slightly, and it's pushing the cold straight through my leather jacket, thick hooded sweatshirt, thick cotton t shirt and undershirt.That's a lot of layers to get through.
I swear, the cold is a living entity that loves to torture me.
Ok, I'm not so egotistical to think the cold is after only me. However, I'm not writing about YOU, right?
Although, that's not a bad idea. I should write about you. But I don't think anyone wants to read about your explosive flatulence. But I am sure they want to read about the erection you had this morning. It was glorious.
Oh, wait, that's me again.
Point is, I'm fucking cold. I will be very happy when summer is here.
Here's a fun song to start out my work shift.
Have a fun and safe Friday night! I don't want to read about any of you found in a ditch somewhere. So, when that slightly creepy guy asks if he can buy you a drink, just tell him you want to fuck him in the bathroom. That way, you don't have to piece together what happened the night before, and you don't have that roofie hangover.
HOLY SHIT ON A RITZ. It's fucking cold out.
Waiting for the bus, as usual, at the corner of Fauntleroy and Alaska. The wind is blowing slightly, and it's pushing the cold straight through my leather jacket, thick hooded sweatshirt, thick cotton t shirt and undershirt.That's a lot of layers to get through.
I swear, the cold is a living entity that loves to torture me.
Ok, I'm not so egotistical to think the cold is after only me. However, I'm not writing about YOU, right?
Although, that's not a bad idea. I should write about you. But I don't think anyone wants to read about your explosive flatulence. But I am sure they want to read about the erection you had this morning. It was glorious.
Oh, wait, that's me again.
Point is, I'm fucking cold. I will be very happy when summer is here.
Here's a fun song to start out my work shift.
Have a fun and safe Friday night! I don't want to read about any of you found in a ditch somewhere. So, when that slightly creepy guy asks if he can buy you a drink, just tell him you want to fuck him in the bathroom. That way, you don't have to piece together what happened the night before, and you don't have that roofie hangover.
Shit Factory
Today's hangover is brought to you by a lot of whiskey.
For two days.
Valentine's day. I was supposed to meet a friend in Northgate to see a movie, but I overslept. Even though, I only slept 4 hours. Woke up at 7:30pm. Was supposed to be up there at 6:45. I'm such an asshole. So, I went to the Triangle Pub, then to Talarico's. I was pretty drunk. Sang a song at Tallies, met up with a friend, and went home. I didn't get to sleep until around 4:30 am. Woke up at 8, and didn't get back to sleep.
The hangover had teeth. I did my best to keep it at bay, but it set up shop, and wasn't leaving until it was good and ready.
Went to Kent last night with another friend, watched her learn a couple line dances. Then went to A Terrible Beauty in Renton. Sang karaoke there, and had a blast. More whiskey. Came back to West Seattle, and got to sleep about 2:45. Woke up at 8am again.
The hangover had grown claws, a tail, and had decided that my temporal lobe was a beautiful place to put a marching band.
I've gotten 5 hours or less sleep every night for the past 2 weeks. I don't know why. Probably because I get home, and even though I'm tired, I stay up. I'll fix that soon, though.
So, that's the daily shit show for today. Here's one of the songs I sang at ATB Wednesday night.
For two days.
Valentine's day. I was supposed to meet a friend in Northgate to see a movie, but I overslept. Even though, I only slept 4 hours. Woke up at 7:30pm. Was supposed to be up there at 6:45. I'm such an asshole. So, I went to the Triangle Pub, then to Talarico's. I was pretty drunk. Sang a song at Tallies, met up with a friend, and went home. I didn't get to sleep until around 4:30 am. Woke up at 8, and didn't get back to sleep.
The hangover had teeth. I did my best to keep it at bay, but it set up shop, and wasn't leaving until it was good and ready.
Went to Kent last night with another friend, watched her learn a couple line dances. Then went to A Terrible Beauty in Renton. Sang karaoke there, and had a blast. More whiskey. Came back to West Seattle, and got to sleep about 2:45. Woke up at 8am again.
The hangover had grown claws, a tail, and had decided that my temporal lobe was a beautiful place to put a marching band.
I've gotten 5 hours or less sleep every night for the past 2 weeks. I don't know why. Probably because I get home, and even though I'm tired, I stay up. I'll fix that soon, though.
So, that's the daily shit show for today. Here's one of the songs I sang at ATB Wednesday night.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
How is it that I'm the bad guy?
I don't lie.
I don't cheat.
I don't hit people.
I help friends move.
I bum homeless people cigarettes, even if I'm low.
When I had a car, I would give people rides.
I don't steal.
But, somehow, I always seem to be the bad guy because I didn't do something that someone wanted me to. Or, I don't feel a certain way about someone. Or, I didn't say something that you wanted me to.
Well, guess what... You'd better load up on the Xanax, because life is gonna be really hard. Do you need someone to blame? Fine. Go ahead and blame me. It won't make the problem go away, but at least your conscience is clear.
Here's the skinny:
I am a single man. Yes, I occasionally get laid. However, one has told me that she's fallen in love with me. I don't feel the same way. I enjoy her company, we have fun together, but I'm not in love with her. That's just the way it is. The problem is, I keep on getting guilt tripped because I don't feel the same way as her. Not only from her, but from mutual friends, acquaintances, etc. She keeps asking me, "Why can't you just be with me?" "I'm tired of being the other woman!" (Even though I spend most of my time with her.) "
Because I don't want to be. Simple as that.
Now, here's the REALLY fun part:
People "warned" her about me when we started seeing each other. They told her not to fall in love with me because I would "stomp on her heart". Like I'm some kind of douche bag who gets women to fall in love with me, and then hurt them just to watch them cry.
Bottom line: I'm a terrible person because I don't want a relationship with you. You, and our mutual friends, try to make me feel guilty for this. As if I've done something deliberate to hurt you. I haven't. I've told you the truth the entire time. You have 3 other people who are in love with you, but you don't want them. Sound familiar?
Want to know what I think? I think you're just upset with me because you can't get what you want. Very well. I'll be the bad guy. So be it.
I don't cheat.
I don't hit people.
I help friends move.
I bum homeless people cigarettes, even if I'm low.
When I had a car, I would give people rides.
I don't steal.
But, somehow, I always seem to be the bad guy because I didn't do something that someone wanted me to. Or, I don't feel a certain way about someone. Or, I didn't say something that you wanted me to.
Well, guess what... You'd better load up on the Xanax, because life is gonna be really hard. Do you need someone to blame? Fine. Go ahead and blame me. It won't make the problem go away, but at least your conscience is clear.
Here's the skinny:
I am a single man. Yes, I occasionally get laid. However, one has told me that she's fallen in love with me. I don't feel the same way. I enjoy her company, we have fun together, but I'm not in love with her. That's just the way it is. The problem is, I keep on getting guilt tripped because I don't feel the same way as her. Not only from her, but from mutual friends, acquaintances, etc. She keeps asking me, "Why can't you just be with me?" "I'm tired of being the other woman!" (Even though I spend most of my time with her.) "
Because I don't want to be. Simple as that.
Now, here's the REALLY fun part:
People "warned" her about me when we started seeing each other. They told her not to fall in love with me because I would "stomp on her heart". Like I'm some kind of douche bag who gets women to fall in love with me, and then hurt them just to watch them cry.
Bottom line: I'm a terrible person because I don't want a relationship with you. You, and our mutual friends, try to make me feel guilty for this. As if I've done something deliberate to hurt you. I haven't. I've told you the truth the entire time. You have 3 other people who are in love with you, but you don't want them. Sound familiar?
Want to know what I think? I think you're just upset with me because you can't get what you want. Very well. I'll be the bad guy. So be it.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Graveyard Shift
Am I the only one who wants to do strange things at work when nobody else is there?
Two days out of the week, I am the only person in the building. Granted, I do have internet and music, and stuff that I have to do, but it gets a little boring.
So, my mind wanders sometimes.
I think about what it would be like to have someone show up and have sex with me. Nobody would know, except me and them.
Or, maybe bring my golf clubs, and set up my own personal miniature golf course around the whole office. That would be fantastic, as well.
But, alas. I didn't bring my clubs, nobody else is awake, and I'm bored.
Although, the CEO of the company did show up for a little while earlier. We had a chance to chat for a little bit. She's a really nice lady. Unless she's pissed off. Then, she's spawn of the devil, and you have done wrong. She only gets pissed if you ACTUALLY did something wrong, though.
I love my job...
Two days out of the week, I am the only person in the building. Granted, I do have internet and music, and stuff that I have to do, but it gets a little boring.
So, my mind wanders sometimes.
I think about what it would be like to have someone show up and have sex with me. Nobody would know, except me and them.
Or, maybe bring my golf clubs, and set up my own personal miniature golf course around the whole office. That would be fantastic, as well.
But, alas. I didn't bring my clubs, nobody else is awake, and I'm bored.
Although, the CEO of the company did show up for a little while earlier. We had a chance to chat for a little bit. She's a really nice lady. Unless she's pissed off. Then, she's spawn of the devil, and you have done wrong. She only gets pissed if you ACTUALLY did something wrong, though.
I love my job...
Friday, February 10, 2012
Nicknames
Up until a few years ago, I didn't have a nickname. People just called me by a shortened version of my first name: Raymond.
Then, they started calling me Ray Ray. Because they have no imagination.
Now, since I sing karaoke, and have a wide range of songs, I've gotten a new nickname.
White Chocolate.
It happened when I was singing at the Corner Inn in West Seattle years ago. I had just finished singing "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye, and happened to walk past a couple black friends of mine having a conversation. I overheard Shawna tell another friend, "Oh, that's Ray Ray. He's not white." Apparently, they decided that I'm an albino black man with red hair. After that, they started calling me White Chocolate.
Now, I have a different nickname. Well, it's not for me. It's a nickname for a PART of me, if you catch my meaning.
Velvet Hammer.
You read that right. Velvet Hammer. It's cuddly soft, even when it's hard. These are not my words. It's just how it was described to me.
You probably didn't need to know that.
Then, they started calling me Ray Ray. Because they have no imagination.
Now, since I sing karaoke, and have a wide range of songs, I've gotten a new nickname.
White Chocolate.
It happened when I was singing at the Corner Inn in West Seattle years ago. I had just finished singing "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye, and happened to walk past a couple black friends of mine having a conversation. I overheard Shawna tell another friend, "Oh, that's Ray Ray. He's not white." Apparently, they decided that I'm an albino black man with red hair. After that, they started calling me White Chocolate.
Now, I have a different nickname. Well, it's not for me. It's a nickname for a PART of me, if you catch my meaning.
Velvet Hammer.
You read that right. Velvet Hammer. It's cuddly soft, even when it's hard. These are not my words. It's just how it was described to me.
You probably didn't need to know that.
Imaginary friends
I have no social life anymore.
Since I started working graveyard shift, I don't really see anyone that I know anymore. I get on the bus to go to work around 9 PM, and work until 6 AM. I get on the bus, and go home. I don't talk to anyone on the bus, and nobody even really looks my way. I'm pretty incognito. Just some guy who looks like an Amish leprechaun wearing a sweatshirt and a leather jacket listening to his headphones.
I go home, watch some movies, play on Facebook for a while, until I pass out.
I wake up in the afternoon, having accomplished absolutely nothing, and get ready for work. I don't go out. Nobody visits. It's really kind of sad how lonely my life has become. Not only that, but I have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. Hardly conducive to being able to party with my friends.
This time away from everyone has given me an opportunity to see who my friends truly are. Most people I know are "Bar Friends". You know what I mean. People you see at your local watering hole, you're friends on Facebook, but never really hang out outside of that particular bar.
Most of the people I know are like this. And since I don't really go out anymore, it's almost like I know people that don't really exist outside of my head.
There have been some people, however, that I have had the opportunity to spend time with away from the bar scene, and I really appreciate them.
I have made plans to hang out with a couple other friends, as well, but since I don't really get to sleep until around 10 AM, it's pretty difficult to get up in time to meet them for drinks after work. I'm trying really had to remedy that.
I think what I'm saying is this: I need a life. Or a hobby. Any suggestions?
Since I started working graveyard shift, I don't really see anyone that I know anymore. I get on the bus to go to work around 9 PM, and work until 6 AM. I get on the bus, and go home. I don't talk to anyone on the bus, and nobody even really looks my way. I'm pretty incognito. Just some guy who looks like an Amish leprechaun wearing a sweatshirt and a leather jacket listening to his headphones.
I go home, watch some movies, play on Facebook for a while, until I pass out.
I wake up in the afternoon, having accomplished absolutely nothing, and get ready for work. I don't go out. Nobody visits. It's really kind of sad how lonely my life has become. Not only that, but I have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. Hardly conducive to being able to party with my friends.
This time away from everyone has given me an opportunity to see who my friends truly are. Most people I know are "Bar Friends". You know what I mean. People you see at your local watering hole, you're friends on Facebook, but never really hang out outside of that particular bar.
Most of the people I know are like this. And since I don't really go out anymore, it's almost like I know people that don't really exist outside of my head.
There have been some people, however, that I have had the opportunity to spend time with away from the bar scene, and I really appreciate them.
I have made plans to hang out with a couple other friends, as well, but since I don't really get to sleep until around 10 AM, it's pretty difficult to get up in time to meet them for drinks after work. I'm trying really had to remedy that.
I think what I'm saying is this: I need a life. Or a hobby. Any suggestions?
Thursday, February 9, 2012
What a day, what a day.
I found out that there is such a beast as "too much bacon".
If it was anyone else spewing forth those words, I would have them flogged for such blasphemous words. However, when you eat an entire package of bacon to yourself, it does seem to weigh down your stomach. Add to that, a couple cups of coffee, and a hangover to boot.
All in all, a fun night and morning. Got fairly tossed with a friend last night, and bacon this morning. Good times. Now, to take a slight nap before I have to head to work tonight.
Oh, and there's another story up on my other blog. Check it out HERE. Another thrilling tale of a drunken ginger.
If it was anyone else spewing forth those words, I would have them flogged for such blasphemous words. However, when you eat an entire package of bacon to yourself, it does seem to weigh down your stomach. Add to that, a couple cups of coffee, and a hangover to boot.
All in all, a fun night and morning. Got fairly tossed with a friend last night, and bacon this morning. Good times. Now, to take a slight nap before I have to head to work tonight.
Oh, and there's another story up on my other blog. Check it out HERE. Another thrilling tale of a drunken ginger.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
New Story
I've got a new story up. It's about cats. You should read it. You might just vomit.
Or hate me.
Or, you just might think, "Hey, cat's aren't that bad..."
Or hate me.
Or, you just might think, "Hey, cat's aren't that bad..."
Sunday, February 5, 2012
The 86 Rules of Boozing
People are stupid when they drink, for the most part. I've seen the most upstanding person get 3 shots into them, and completely revert to toddler thinking. GIMME THAT, IT'S MINE!!
Every drinker is different, but here are the ones that I ALWAYS see:
The Hugger - This guy has too many shots, and suddenly loves everyone. He can't help but hold on to everyone to show them he loves them. (And he needs them to help hold him up.) Look, dude. We get it. You love all of us. Now get the fuck off of me, you smell like failure.
Then there's the complete opposite:
The Fighter - This guy seems to think that just because someone glances his way, they want to fight him. He usually starts talking about the fights in which he has been around drink 3. Drink 6, he's talking shit about some "douche bag" at the end of the bar. Drink 12, he's in the guy's face. I swear, these guys go out to drink just to get into a fight to have more stories to tell. Calm down, asshole, he's looking at you because you're being extremely loud. He doesn't want your girlfriend.
Bartenders love this next one, because they drink a lot of booze, and guys buy them a LOT of shots:
The Bachelorette Party - You see these girls nearly every weekend. Usually in a group of 6-8, with the Bride-to-be wearing a veil. I fucking hate this group. Not because they're happy, or because they're drunk. I hate them because they make outlandish demands on anyone passing by. "Hey, show us your dick!", "If you pay a dollar, you can bite a sucker off my shirt...", "Buy me a shot! I'm getting married!". If you are like me, and refuse to acquiesce to their demands, you get shunned by the entire group, and mocked by most of the people around them. "Come on, show us your dick! We want to take a picture of it! What do you mean no?!?!?! You're lame." Fuck you, bitch. Unless you're going to suck me off in the bar, I'm not going to show you my dick, let alone let you take a picture of it.
The Former Bartender/Bouncer - This is the guy who bitches that his drink isn't strong enough, constantly. Or, he feels the need to tell the bartender how HE would make a particular drink. Or, he complains that he shouldn't have to show his ID to the bouncer because he "used to have that job, and worked at the bar next door for 3 months." Here's an idea: Show your ID, get your drink, tip appropriately, and shut the fuck up. Unless the bartender traded their brains for tits and made you a Margarita with blackberry brandy, you have no need to explain to them how to do their job. They're doing it, not you. If you were so good, you'd still be doing it. Also, never tell the bouncer how to do their job. Or try to help them in a fight. Stand back and watch the ass-whooping before you find yourself on the receiving end of it.
The Last Call Hurricane - You've all seen these people. They show up 10 minutes before closing, right after the bartender calls "Last Call!". They just came from 2 other bars, have been drinking since they got off of work, and are completely hammered. And yet, they think that just because the doors are still open, that they deserve to get one last drink. "What do you mean, I can't get a drink? You're still open!" Get out, needy. People are trying to pay their tabs so they can go home. If you want to drink more, get a 12 pack on your way home.
The 21 Run - Always in a group of 4, 8, or 12. Never any other number. The Birthday boy/girl is TRASHED, but their friends still find it funny to feed them shots. They show up, get a round or two, then leave. This isn't a problem until it's the last bar of the night. That's usually when the 21 year old passes out on a table, or vomits on the dance floor. Guess who gets to clean that up? Now, I understand getting your newly legal friend drunk on their birthday. Here's the thing, if you're going to make them a pile of hot mess, you have to take care of them, rather than asking the bartender to get them a cab home. They don't know where they are, let alone where they live, and cab drivers aren't babysitters.
The Princess (a.k.a The Mercer Island Cunt) - Usually about 23-24 years old. Either has money, or her parents do. She orders a straight up, 50/50, slightly dirty Martini with a lemon twist. Or and Adios Mother Fucker. Or a Screaming Viking. At closing. Then throws a tantrum because she can't get what she wants when she wants it. "I don't want it now. Give me my money back." "What took you so long? I've been waiting FOREVER!" (It's only been 5 minutes). Then, doesn't tip. She looks with disdain at every man who approaches her. If you buy her a drink, she won't thank you, and will just walk away. She's the kind of girl that will ask what kind of car you drive before you can even engage in conversation with her. I hope you die in a fire. You shouldn't be allowed out in public until you understand that those people serving you could easily slip you a roofie, and let you take your chances with the big hairy biker gang in the corner. Or spit in your food.
And my personal favorite:
The One Trying to Buy Your Friendship with Drinks - I love this guy. He's usually sitting by himself, and manages to strike up a conversation with ANYONE that happens by. He's the guy that just got a promotion, so decides to buy a round of drinks for a group of strangers. The later in the evening it gets, the more apt he is to just start buying shots and bringing them to the table. If it's a guy, he tries to get a girl in the group to go home with him. If it's a woman, she tries to get the hot girl's boyfriend to go home with her. These people are free entertainment for me. Plus, they make my bar tab at the end of the night much nicer.
There are many more. Happy, horny, sleepy, etc. These ones are just a sample of what I see every time I go out.
In case there are some of you who do not know, there are many unwritten rules of drinking in public. Modern Drunkard magazine has combined them all, and managed to put them onto a poster. Here you go: 86 Rules of Boozing
Every drinker is different, but here are the ones that I ALWAYS see:
The Hugger - This guy has too many shots, and suddenly loves everyone. He can't help but hold on to everyone to show them he loves them. (And he needs them to help hold him up.) Look, dude. We get it. You love all of us. Now get the fuck off of me, you smell like failure.
Then there's the complete opposite:
The Fighter - This guy seems to think that just because someone glances his way, they want to fight him. He usually starts talking about the fights in which he has been around drink 3. Drink 6, he's talking shit about some "douche bag" at the end of the bar. Drink 12, he's in the guy's face. I swear, these guys go out to drink just to get into a fight to have more stories to tell. Calm down, asshole, he's looking at you because you're being extremely loud. He doesn't want your girlfriend.
Bartenders love this next one, because they drink a lot of booze, and guys buy them a LOT of shots:
The Bachelorette Party - You see these girls nearly every weekend. Usually in a group of 6-8, with the Bride-to-be wearing a veil. I fucking hate this group. Not because they're happy, or because they're drunk. I hate them because they make outlandish demands on anyone passing by. "Hey, show us your dick!", "If you pay a dollar, you can bite a sucker off my shirt...", "Buy me a shot! I'm getting married!". If you are like me, and refuse to acquiesce to their demands, you get shunned by the entire group, and mocked by most of the people around them. "Come on, show us your dick! We want to take a picture of it! What do you mean no?!?!?! You're lame." Fuck you, bitch. Unless you're going to suck me off in the bar, I'm not going to show you my dick, let alone let you take a picture of it.
The Former Bartender/Bouncer - This is the guy who bitches that his drink isn't strong enough, constantly. Or, he feels the need to tell the bartender how HE would make a particular drink. Or, he complains that he shouldn't have to show his ID to the bouncer because he "used to have that job, and worked at the bar next door for 3 months." Here's an idea: Show your ID, get your drink, tip appropriately, and shut the fuck up. Unless the bartender traded their brains for tits and made you a Margarita with blackberry brandy, you have no need to explain to them how to do their job. They're doing it, not you. If you were so good, you'd still be doing it. Also, never tell the bouncer how to do their job. Or try to help them in a fight. Stand back and watch the ass-whooping before you find yourself on the receiving end of it.
The Last Call Hurricane - You've all seen these people. They show up 10 minutes before closing, right after the bartender calls "Last Call!". They just came from 2 other bars, have been drinking since they got off of work, and are completely hammered. And yet, they think that just because the doors are still open, that they deserve to get one last drink. "What do you mean, I can't get a drink? You're still open!" Get out, needy. People are trying to pay their tabs so they can go home. If you want to drink more, get a 12 pack on your way home.
The 21 Run - Always in a group of 4, 8, or 12. Never any other number. The Birthday boy/girl is TRASHED, but their friends still find it funny to feed them shots. They show up, get a round or two, then leave. This isn't a problem until it's the last bar of the night. That's usually when the 21 year old passes out on a table, or vomits on the dance floor. Guess who gets to clean that up? Now, I understand getting your newly legal friend drunk on their birthday. Here's the thing, if you're going to make them a pile of hot mess, you have to take care of them, rather than asking the bartender to get them a cab home. They don't know where they are, let alone where they live, and cab drivers aren't babysitters.
The Princess (a.k.a The Mercer Island Cunt) - Usually about 23-24 years old. Either has money, or her parents do. She orders a straight up, 50/50, slightly dirty Martini with a lemon twist. Or and Adios Mother Fucker. Or a Screaming Viking. At closing. Then throws a tantrum because she can't get what she wants when she wants it. "I don't want it now. Give me my money back." "What took you so long? I've been waiting FOREVER!" (It's only been 5 minutes). Then, doesn't tip. She looks with disdain at every man who approaches her. If you buy her a drink, she won't thank you, and will just walk away. She's the kind of girl that will ask what kind of car you drive before you can even engage in conversation with her. I hope you die in a fire. You shouldn't be allowed out in public until you understand that those people serving you could easily slip you a roofie, and let you take your chances with the big hairy biker gang in the corner. Or spit in your food.
And my personal favorite:
The One Trying to Buy Your Friendship with Drinks - I love this guy. He's usually sitting by himself, and manages to strike up a conversation with ANYONE that happens by. He's the guy that just got a promotion, so decides to buy a round of drinks for a group of strangers. The later in the evening it gets, the more apt he is to just start buying shots and bringing them to the table. If it's a guy, he tries to get a girl in the group to go home with him. If it's a woman, she tries to get the hot girl's boyfriend to go home with her. These people are free entertainment for me. Plus, they make my bar tab at the end of the night much nicer.
There are many more. Happy, horny, sleepy, etc. These ones are just a sample of what I see every time I go out.
In case there are some of you who do not know, there are many unwritten rules of drinking in public. Modern Drunkard magazine has combined them all, and managed to put them onto a poster. Here you go: 86 Rules of Boozing
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Found out the other day that a good friend of mine is becoming trans. Here's the fun part:
It's an ex-girlfriend of mine.
She has been very confused about herself most of her life, and I fully support her decision. Plus, she's already met someone that she likes very much. She started HER life as a man. Kinda fortuitous, don't you think?
There was always part of me that sort of hoped she/he and I might get back together. I knew in my heart, though, that wouldn't happen. We are completely different people from when we dated, especially now.
My love and support to you, Leuq. You'll always be my Honey Bear.
It's an ex-girlfriend of mine.
She has been very confused about herself most of her life, and I fully support her decision. Plus, she's already met someone that she likes very much. She started HER life as a man. Kinda fortuitous, don't you think?
There was always part of me that sort of hoped she/he and I might get back together. I knew in my heart, though, that wouldn't happen. We are completely different people from when we dated, especially now.
My love and support to you, Leuq. You'll always be my Honey Bear.
Wow. I have a blog now. One thing I told myself I wouldn't do.
But, like nearly everyone I've known, I need someone to talk to. Most of the time, that should be my friends, but most of them wait for their turn to speak, rather than listen. So, I'll just write my thoughts here, and hopefully, I'll be able to work my way through them into some sense of reality.
But, like nearly everyone I've known, I need someone to talk to. Most of the time, that should be my friends, but most of them wait for their turn to speak, rather than listen. So, I'll just write my thoughts here, and hopefully, I'll be able to work my way through them into some sense of reality.