Go Phils!

November 20, 2009

(Originally written on September 2, 2009)

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I went to my very first Phillies game last night and had an absolute blast!  Yesterday at work, Wolverine (the guy who’s responsible for training me – and that’s Wolverine as in University of Michigan, not X-Men, very important distinction there…) told me that our boss had given him tickets and then randomly asked me if I wanted to go to the game with him.  I guess it wasn’t too random:  whoever was originally going with him cancelled last minute, then he asked another one of our coworkers who wasn’t able to go, so then he asked me.  And I thought, “Hey, why not?”  I mean, a major-league baseball game sounds much more entertaining than yet another night alone at the B-Dub.

Our tickets were “Diamond Club”, so we had a credit of $30 apiece on our tickets.  BUT we didn’t find that out until after we had already bought beer and brauts.  So…I decided that I was going to buy a jersey with it.  I settled on number 26:  Chase Utley.  He is H-O-T hot and, even better, his at-bat music is Kashmir by Led Zeppelin!  And I also later found out that he (recently?) signed a seven-year contract, so he’ll be with the Phils for a good while.

Anyways, our seats were in the sixth row, right behind home plate.  It was AWESOMEAnd it actually turns out that we were all over ESPN Sportscenter last night because the Phillies’ pitcher threw a two-hitter.


First Day on the Job

November 8, 2009

(Originally written on August 24, 2009)

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As the post title implies, today was my first day on the job at B&B!  Although, the guy who’s supposed to be training me is out of the office closing on a house and they didn’t really know what to do with me in lieu of that fact.  But I think I’m really gonna like it here.

•     •     •     •     •

I sat in on a flu meeting today that covered both the seasonal flu and the swine flu and how they’re trending (B&B is in the over-the-counter drug industry).  HOLY SHIT – it’s really scary.

•     •     •     •     •

I awoke yesterday morning only to find a late-night text from Mario:

I miss you already. : (

Ugh!  Why does he have to do that?

•     •     •     •     •

I’m definitely going to stop drinking after tonight (I’m finishing off the two mix-six packs that I bought yesterday:  mostly local microbrews that I’ve never heard of before – I had to give ‘em a try!).  When I got dressed this morning, I couldn’t fit into a pair of dress pants that I’ve never had a problem fitting into, which knocks out half of my “temporary” clothes to tide me over until I find an apartment because all of my other pants are from the same store in the same size, just in different colors.  Beast told me that it’s probably from all the beer I’ve been drinking.  Well, my wardrobe is reason enough to take some time off the sauce!  Besides, of my two favorite coworkers (so far, that is), one of them is pregnant and the other one has a six-month-old baby, so neither of them drink…

•     •     •     •     •

So, as I referred to above, until I find an apartment, I am residing in the Best Western – which from-here-on-out will be referred to as the B-Dub.  Oh my god, when I worked out in the hotel exercise room this afternoon (this was my first time; I just checked in yesterday), they had absolutely no air-conditioning on!  I had to turn it on myself when I came in, which really didn’t do anything on my behalf because even at full blast it would probably take longer to cool the room than the 30 minutes that I spent on the treadmill.  AND there was no door on the hinges of the entry to the exercise room (which was so conveniently located directly in front of the air-conditioning unit across the room)…and everyone in the hall seemed to make an effort to stare at me as they walked by.  It made me really uncomfortable, especially since I was sweating more intensely than usual due to the lack of AC.


My Departure

November 5, 2009

(Originally written on August 22, 2009)

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Today I began my journey to Philly.  And I got off to a late start – I wanted to leave by 10am, but things kept piling up onto each other and it just didn’t happen.

One of the things that held me up was Chip’s and Dale’s birthday lunch (they turned 19 today).  By the time I got to Beast’s and Martyr’s house to drop off Peabody and Lilly, it was around 11:30am; hence, I decided that I may as well stay for lunch.  Martyr is currently studying to become a masseuse and was getting out of class at 12:30pm-ish, so I shared a couple of beers with Beast, Chip, and Dale in the meantime (early, I know, but I wasn’t just going to leave perfectly good beer sitting in my empty apartment after moving out – and sharing it with Beast, Chip, and Dale is much better than just leaving it with them and not being able to partake in the drinking of it myself!).

Also at the house was my grampa (Martyr’s dad).  He and my brothers have always had a special bond.  And by that I mean that it is public knowledge to the entire family that Chip and Dale are his favorite grandkids.  Martyr thinks that he has gone out of his way to make such a dramatic effort with them in order to somehow make up for and/or forgive himself for being such a poor father.  (Grampa was a drill sergeant in the Army and was outrageously strict whenever he was actually home – he did two additional, voluntary tours in Vietnam and one additional, voluntary tour in Korea on top of his mandatory tours.  Of course there’s more to it than that, but that’s the base of it, I believe.)  So, anyways, it was no surprise that Grampa made the three-hour drive for their birthday.

Well, let’s just say that Grampa and I have had our disagreements throughout the years.  I have a pretty strong personality and he is very structured in his ways – it’s his way or the highway.  He also drove semis for a living after retiring from the Army (he gets restless if he doesn’t have something to do), so he’s really familiar with the national highway system and such.  So, for example, while we were waiting on Martyr this morning/early afternoon, Grampa took the opportunity (as he does) to tell me how to drive – and there’s no interrupting him once he’s started!  So even though I sat there and repeatedly and continually said, “I know, Grampa, that’s exactly the route that I’ve already decided I’m taking,” I still had to listen to his whole 20-minute spiel.  And then he went on and on about how there are a lot of toll roads up in the northeast (which my Google Maps directions already told me about and for which I brought my change collection).  He just likes to take charge of everything…and it’s kind of a pain-in-the-ass.

So, anyways, back to the birthday lunch – as we were sitting there and I was getting ready to depart on my journey, Grampa turns to Martyr and asks her if it would be alright for him to come with her whenever she brings up Peebs and Lil.  And she said YES!  Why the hell would Martyr tell him that it’s okay for him to come up and help me move in?!  Shouldn’t that be MY decision? Ugh! I can just see him telling me exactly how to arrange everything in my apartment…

•     •     •     •     •

The drive today was a nightmare:  I drove past/through three accidents that brought traffic to a standstill.  For the last one, I only moved five miles in one hour.  Come on, people!  After passing the first accident you should have taken it as a sign that you should drive more carefully – let alone after passing the second one!

•     •     •     •     •

The ceiling of this Holiday Inn Express is glittered…  I even called down to the front desk to check if it’s supposed to be that way.  It is.  That kinda creeps me out…


“Artistic” Refreshment

September 19, 2009

(Originally written on July 23, 2009)

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This evening, I had dinner plans with Michelangelo, one of my friends from high school.  Michelangelo and I go pretty far back; he was a football player and I was a football (and competitive) cheerleader.  On some game Fridays, he would let me wear his jersey.  Ahh…  And did I mention that I’ve always had a mini-crush on him?

But anyways, it really all started our sophomore year.  Both of us are artistically talented – although, Michelangelo is far more talented than me­ – and we had Graphic Design I together with Ms. Gemini.  She was my favorite teacher in high school…actually, my favorite teacher ever.  Michelangelo and another guy sat next to each other at computers behind mine and they used to play with my hair (Michelangelo would sometimes chew on the ends, soaking them in saliva…my hair was much longer back then…and blonde, thanks to regular highlight treatments) and do other things to playfully antagonize me.  And Ms. Gemini always used to yell at me for it, “Elliott!  Stop flirting!  Or else I’ll have to separate you!”  But she never did.  Oh memories… Michelangelo wasn’t in my Graphic Design II or III classes; however, X was in Graphic Design III with me – conveniently, at the time we were dating.

Well, since we’ve graduated from high school, Chip and Dale have taken Ms. Gemini’s Graphic Design classes a la my suggestion.  X and I visited a couple of times when we were still dating – it was like a doubly great visit:  we got to see my brothers and our former teacher.  However, since X and I have been broken up, I’ve been making those visits with Michelangelo instead.  Ms. Gemini really enjoys it when we stop in, but I think she likes it better when Michelangelo accompanies me because X was never really artistically-oriented (she also taught Michelangelo and me art and does a lot of business selling her own pieces and designs).

I almost majored in graphic design in undergrad, but Beast and Martyr said that it would be a waste of a free education to major in art, that you either have that talent or you don’t and that it’s something that can’t be taught.  I suppose they were right; just as artsy as I am, I am also gifted intellectually, and my statistics degree is certainly more useful for getting a job (and it got me into the MMR program).

Michelangelo, on the other hand, just graduated this past May with his Bachelor of Art in Sculpture.  The reason that it took him five years is because he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma right after our freshman year of college and had to take a semester off for the treatment and then took a light load the following semester while he recovered.  That really changed him a lot.  For example, Michelangelo was extremely religious in high school – I remember one discussion in Graphic Design I between Michelangelo, the guy he sat next to, and me in which we were talking about masturbation, for some reason, and Michelangelo revealed that he had never masturbated because the Bible says that it is sinful.  He also never drank in high school.  However, a couple of months ago over beers at Polly’s, Michelangelo and I had a little heart-to-heart about cancer, religion, and love, and it turns out that he and I share a lot of “beliefs” (or lack thereof) in common with each other through our similar experiences.

Anyways, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I had dinner with Michelangelo this evening.  However, there was something significantly different about this meeting from our last few interactions:  Michelangelo paid for everything (as opposed to us each paying our own) – both dinner and drinks afterward.  It almost felt date-like.  Anyways, it was really nice to see him again; it’s been a while.  Michelangelo took me out to the eastside for a sushi dinner.  I thought that was going to be it, but then he asked me if I wanted to go downtown for a couple of drinks, to which I was more-than-happy to oblige – more for his extended company, though, than just the allure of alcohol.  So, throughout the course of the evening, we discussed our lives over sushi, beer, and wine (Guinness for him and Selbach Riesling for me, to be precise).  Since graduating in May, he’s been doing odd jobs such as repairing flooring and cabinetry for the most part and is waiting to hear back about a job where he would be doing construction work in Aruba for six-to-eight months.  I told him that he’d be crazy not to take a job in paradise; besides, it’s only temporary – what an experience!

Ah, it really was great to see him again.

•     •     •     •     •

Gaston is back – ugh!


Pathetic

September 11, 2009

(Originally written on July 21, 2009)

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I am only 23 years old and all I have to turn to is alcohol.  What is going to become of me?


Here We Go Again

August 27, 2009

(Originally written on July 15, 2009)

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I am currently sitting at a bar in the airport right now, having a beer while I await my flight to Philadelphia for yet another series of job interviews.  This time, we’ll call the company B&B.  B&B is a consumer packaged goods company that makes everything ranging from beauty products to over-the-counter drugs. Oddly enough, I didn’t even apply for the position that I’m interviewing for with them…or any position with them, for that matter.  They actually recruited me from the MMR resume book.  That kinda made me feel a little bit better about myself:  out of the 27 graduates in my class, they chose me.  I haven’t really taken their interest all that seriously (until now, obviously) because the first time they called me was back in May.  Then, it was early-to-mid-June before they called me for a phone interview and told me that they wanted whomever they hire to start working by mid-July…which is today.  And that obviously didn’t happen.  Anyways, I eventually had another phone interview about a week-and-a-half ago, at the end of which they told me that they wanted to fly me to Philly for what would have been last week for in-person interviews.  Well, after two-and-a-half slow months, I’m finally making my trip up there.

•     •     •     •     •

I didn’t sleep well at all last night, even though I took my sleeping meds.  Thus, I got up this morning feeling funky/sick…great for packing and traveling.

•     •     •     •     •

I have decided that Friday (once I’m back home) I’m going to stop drinking and start working on getting into shape and being happy again.

•     •     •     •     •

This past weekend was my family reunion with Beast’s side of the family.  Every year we visit a different location and this year it was Asheville, North Carolina.  The previous reunions that stick out most in my mind include:  Nashville, Tennessee; Lexington, Kentucky; Washington, D.C.; Cedar Point, Ohio (the last reunion Beast’s dad, my grampa, was alive for); and Niagara Falls, Canada.  I always enjoy these family reunions because all of my cousins are really close in age to Chip, Dale, Ursula and me.

Bear with me here, I’ve got quite a few introductions to get through in order to make the storytelling easier:

We’ll start with Beast’s oldest brother, Aston (for Aston Martin; he collects cars, most of which he actually purchases on eBay).  And Aston’s wife is Dippy; she’s the crazy aunt that always makes inappropriate comments and jokes.  When we were younger, we all thought she was weird and were creeped out by her, but now that we’re older, we are equipped with the worldly knowledge required to understand her wonderfully lewd and sarcastic sense of humor.  She’s awesome.  Their son is my cousin Fire – and yes, he’s a ginger.  The name “Fire” for him, though, actually works on several different levels:

  1. His gingerness, of course.
  2. He was a firefighter for a year or two.
  3. He has always been one who goes through phases where he is exceedingly fanatical about whatever it is that’s his flavor of the week, including girls.  One year he was all about the Army and ROTC; the next year was drinking (underage); the next was being redneck; the next was firefighting…and you get the picture. And, I mean, he goes all out.  For example, he got the firefighter emblem tattooed – quite large, I must say – on his upper arm…and, well, Fire isn’t a firefighter anymore.

There’s actually quite a sad story attached to Fire – and keep in mind that he’s my age (only 23).  Beast comes from a family that was raised devoutly Catholic (hence the four kids), so we definitely behave more conservatively around Gramma and company.  Anyways, the summer when we were 19, the family reunion was held at Niagara Falls (the reunions always take place in July, by the way).  Fire had drunkenly proposed to Emma in June, his girlfriend of two months at that time, and insisted that she come to the reunion with him or else he wouldn’t come.  So she came to the reunion and she stayed in a room with Dippy while Fire stayed in a separate room with Aston.  They got married that August and bought a house together.  Money was pretty scarce for them with Fire installing home theater and stereo systems and Emma working as a cashier at a fast-food restaurant.  In order to make ends meet, Fire joined the Air Force in March with the intention of becoming an Air Force firefighter and left for two months of boot camp.  While he was away, Emma had a friend move into the house with her to keep her company.  Emma’s 21st birthday (she was a year older than Fire) was on the same day as Aston’s and Dippy’s wedding anniversary, about one month after Fire had left for boot camp, so the three of them went to dinner together.  Emma didn’t even have anything to drink because she said she was feeling funny.  The following morning, Emma’s friend walked by her room and found her in a blue state.  Fire and Emma were only married for nine months.  Fire immediately came home from boot camp and was given a year to come back and resume.  However, Fire later declined and was honorably discharged.  To this day, we still don’t know how Emma died.

What made Fire’s circumstances a little more strange was how he acted when he returned to the next reunion.  For one thing, he was already back onto the dating scene a mere three months after Emma’s death…and the girl he was dating was also named Emma…  Secondly, when asked about how he was holding up, Fire said that, hindsight 20/20, he thought they would have probably ended up getting divorced anyway…  I guess that’s just how he was coping and getting himself through it all.

Well, a little over two years ago, Fire became an EMT (and he still is).  Then, in late December 2007, we received the news that Fire was going to be a father.  He met his baby-mama through work, she’s an ER nurse, and the baby was born last July (Fire didn’t make it to the last reunion because he was expecting).  Now, what makes that sad and odd is that Fire continues to propose to his baby-mama (who already had another illegitimate child with a different guy, by the way) multiple times and she still, to this day, says no.  He really does just want to do the right thing.

Then there’s my aunt Egoista and her husband Uncle Bob.  She is definitely the black sheep of the siblings.  She constantly tries to be the center of attention (and she’s 60 years old!) and she’s full of herself, gets pissy if she doesn’t get her way, has the worst sense of humor, and her obnoxious cackle of a laugh makes your ears bleed.  Also, both when Grampa died and when we moved Gramma into an assisted living home, Egoista picked brutal, petty fights with her brothers and cut off communication with the rest of the family for a while – which I know Beast and Aston didn’t mind, they joked about it at the time.  There’s really nothing special about Uncle Bob (hence the plain name); he pretty much keeps to himself and you can tell that he unquestioningly lets Egoista run the show.  Their daughter is Bookworm.  She was born three months premature with cerebral palsy and is confined to a wheelchair.  She’s currently working on her Master degree to become a librarian.  It’s kinda sad that none of us really know Bookworm that well; it’s hard because she can’t participate in everything that we do and Egoista keeps her on a short leash too.  Bookworm and I do share our passion for beer, though!

And finally, there’s Scholar and his wife Cowpoke.  As kids, Scholar was really malicious toward Beast: one time Scholar pushed Beast’s stroller (with Beast in it) down a hill for no reason and when Beast was four, Scholar convinced him to guzzle gasoline, telling him that it was just “sour water”.  And that’s only two of the many examples, but I think they’ve gotten past it.  I’ve dubbed him “Scholar” because he was a career student for quite some time: he’s got two Doctoral degrees, one in optometry and one in psychiatry (which he currently practices), in addition to a Master degree or two.  He actually met Cowpoke while he was working on his last degree (psychiatry) and they just got married a couple of years ago.  Cowpoke was working on her Doctorate in I-don’t-know-what when they met.

Scholar has three kids from his previous marriage.  His oldest is Frenchie.  The university she went to for undergrad requires that you declare a major after your sophomore year; she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to do, so she decided to major in French, the foreign language that she had taken in high school.  She took a year off after graduating and is now about to start working on the second year in her Master of Social Work program.  Then there’s Pollyanna.  She is an incredibly unique spirit – I don’t even know how to describe her.  She’s very Earthy, P.C., and exuberant.  Wow.  I really don’t know how to put Pollyanna into words.  And Scholar’s youngest is Squint.  Squint is and always has been shy/an introvert…except for this one year when he overcompensated for it by bothering the hell out of everyone…yea, he still does that a little bit – but nowhere near comparison to that one year.  Anyways, he’s brilliantly intelligent and is currently majoring in Math.

Remember how I said that all of my cousins and I are conveniently close in age?  Well here’s how we all lay out:  Bookworm was born in 1983 (she’s 26); Frenchie was born in 1985 (she’s 24); Fire and I were born in 1986 (we’re 23); Pollyanna was born in 1987 (she’s 22); Ursula was born in 1988 (she’s 21); Squint was born in 1989 (he’s 20); and Chip and Dale were born in 1990 (they’re going to be 19 in August).  phew! As I said earlier, none of us are particularly close with Bookworm.  But Frenchie and I always paired up, as did Pollyanna and Ursula, and Squint, Chip, and Dale always grouped together.  Fire has always been pretty close with all of us.  We still pair up a bit, but now that we’re older, we really all pretty much hang out together.

Alright, so now that that’s out of the way, I can actually talk about the trip!

Like I said earlier, we went to Asheville, North Carolina this year.  Thursday was day one and it pretty much just consisted of everyone arriving and then chilling in the lobby for the hotel happy hour.  The most eventful occurrence of the evening was when the entire hotel power went out and switched to backup generators for about an hour.  I have never experienced that before – the closest I’ve come was actually on another family reunion:  a kitchen fire set off the fire alarm and the whole hotel was evacuated.  It was 3am and we were on the 17th floor.

Anyways, the second day of this past reunion was absolutely nuts; Beast definitely overbooked the schedule.  And it didn’t help that Pollyanna kept us an hour late after breakfast for personal issues (she does that a lot).  We started off the day touring the Biltmore Estate.  God, that place is gorgeous.  During that process, we all got split up initially because Bookworm and Gramma are in wheelchairs and had to take the elevators instead of the stairs and couldn’t go in to some rooms.  But then it just became too hard for the rest of us to remain together; I mean, there were so many of us and the Biltmore mansion was crowded and huge.  Next up on Friday’s schedule was lunch at The Grove Park Inn, this really rustic old hotel that’s outside walls are constructed entirely out of massive boulders.  The only problem was:  Pollyanna was nowhere to be found when it came time to leave (not surprisingly, she managed to get separated all by herself) and she didn’t have her cell phone on.  We waited for 20 minutes before Beast sent me back into the mansion via the exit in order to go backwards and try to retrieve her.  So once all of us were finally reassembled, we headed to lunch.  The Grove Park Inn was absolutely beautiful and the terrace where we ate had a gorgeous view of the cascading hillsides below.  The lunch was quite lovely until Ursula exploded at me (even though we’re older, all of the cousins are still forced to sit at the “kid table”).  Somehow, money came up into conversation and I made a vague reference to all of the money that she owes Beast and Martyr (which is a story for another day).  No one else at the table other than Chip and Dale even knew what I was referring to and they would have thought nothing of it if Ursula had just shrugged it off.  But no…my comment unexpectedly set her off and she bashed the shit out of me.  I mean, she just didn’t stop – she ranted for probably 10 minutes (which felt like an eternity to me).  I was awfully embarrassed – she really made a scene – and I just sat there an took it, not even defending myself against her outrageous accusations; I didn’t want to contribute anything whatsoever to her petty charades.  Anyways, after that disaster, we toured the Highland Brewing Company brewery.  That was by far the most fun we had all day:  we got to drink copious amounts of six different varieties of beer and Beast, Dale, Squint and I beat Cowpoke, Scholar, Frenchie, and Chip in an exciting game of cornhole!  When it came time to leave, I realized that I had forgotten to buy a t-shirt, so I went to do that just as everyone was piling into the car.  It took me maybe five-to-seven minutes to make my selection and the dude threw in two pint glasses and a handful of bumper stickers for free.  Just as I was waiting for the guy to bring back my change, Martyr came furiously charging into the brewery, barking at me to hurry up.  I had no idea why she was so upset, seemingly out of nowhere.  Even Beast was stunned by her sudden anger.  It wasn’t until later that we realized that she just wanted to get back to the hotel so that she could take a nap before dinner.  And we later had dinner and margaritas at a local Mexican restaurant to top off the day.

The original plan for day three was to drive the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway to Cherokee, North Carolina, have lunch there and check it out, and make sure to get back to the hotel early enough in the afternoon so that Gramma could take a nap before our big last dinner.  Well, after about 45 minutes into the two-and-a-half hour drive, Beast receives a call from Scholar saying that they only had one-eighth of a tank of gas remaining.  BAD news – the exits off of the Parkway are few and far between since it’s a government road.  We ended up driving two hours out of the way to find the nearest gas station.  The drive was incredibly swervy and I got carsick; I didn’t think it was ever going to end.  Then, we were stuck at the gas station for a while because I’m pretty sure that all 17 of us used their one little unisex bathroom.  Once that was all said and done with, we got back on the road and continued our trek to Cherokee.  We eventually arrived at 1:45pm and ate at an Arby’s, then walked around the downtown area for an hour-and-a-half before returning to Asheville.  During our downtime while Gramma had her nap, Beast told me that he and Aston were heading to the Grand Bohemian Hotel for a couple of drinks at the Red Stag Grill and asked me if I would like to accompany them – and you know I’ve never been one to turn down drinks!  After our bar adventure, Beast, Aston, and I joined the rest of the family for our big dinner at a highly esteemed local Italian restaurant.  So, it somehow came up at dinner amongst Chip, Dale, Ursula, Frenchie, Pollyanna, Squint, and me that I tend to talk out of the side of my mouth a lot when I get drunk.  This really intrigued Frenchie and Pollyanna, so it was decided, based on the full support of the cousins, that I was going to get drunk – and let’s face it, my family kinda expects it of me at this point.  Then, at the end of dinner, someone suggested that one of us give a speech/toast (although, aren’t toasts supposed to occur at the beginning of the occasion?  Oh well, anyways…).  Naturally, everyone pointed to Beast, but he declined, which is incredibly uncharacteristic of him.  After about a minute of everyone pointing fingers at each other, my liquid courage kicked in and I volunteered my words.  I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m confident that it was fitting and appropriate; everyone seemed to be smiling and nodding their heads in agreement throughout it.  And I’m not going to lie, it made me feel really good – honorable, if I dare say.

After dinner, we all returned to the hotel and just kept it low-key for the remainder of the evening.  The “adults” chilled in one room (Beast’s, as always) while all the cousins hung out in another (Chip’s, Dale’s, and mine – the apples don’t fall far from the party family tree).  We were doing YouTube research (and by research, I mean we were all sharing funny and outrageous video discoveries that we’ve happened to stumble upon in the past and archive as awesome) in the sitting area while Chip stepped into the bedroom to make “the call” to his girlfriend.  Suddenly, Chip called us into the room and the most unexpected sight was playing out in front of our eyes.  You know when you’re a kid and you play in front of the windows at night when you’re at hotels because they become like mirrors?  Remember when your mother told you not to change your clothes in view of them because they were still clear windows inward to everyone from the outside?  Well, I guess this dude never learned that lesson.  At a hotel across the way in a room with all of the lights on and the curtains fully opened, there was a totally naked obese man laying spread-eagle on his bed, crotch facing the window, masturbating.  It was horrific.  But it was like watching a car wreck:  as awful as it is, you just can’t look away.  And, us being the sick fucks that we are, we turned out the lights in our room so that we could continue to watch without him noticing.  He even had a cigarette between goes!  We entertained ourselves like this for about 20 minutes and then decided to end it on that note and call it a night.

Sunday morning simply consisted of breakfast and group photos before we all said our goodbyes and hit the road.

I love these reunions.  I really wish we could see each other more, but it’s hard with all of us living all over the place.  But at least I know I’ve got the upcoming reunion.  I’ll just have to wait until next July!

•     •     •     •     •

I checked in with Sly the other day and it turns out that his toe is healed and completely pain-free.  My surgery was, in fact, a success!  Woo-hoo!


A Successful Surgery!

August 23, 2009

(Originally written on July 6, 2009)

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This afternoon, I decided to go to Polly’s to apply for jobs online and get a change of scenery from my apartment…while also drinking, of course.  As soon as I came in, Kip told me that I need to tell Mario to “lay off”, that he was overbearingly protective of me on Friday night (Mario and I chilled at Polly’s for the evening and ended up hanging out a good bit with Kip) whenever a guy tried to talk to me.  Mainly Voodoo, who has a girlfriend anyways…

•     •     •     •     •

While I was sitting at the bar this afternoon, Sly came in for a few drinks and was complaining about how he had an extremely painful ingrown toenail yet he couldn’t go to the doctor for it because he doesn’t have health insurance and can’t afford to pay for it out-of-pocket.  That kind of stuff doesn’t bother me and I’ve never seen an ingrown toenail before, so I asked him if I could see it.  After taking a look and a little googling of ingrown toenail treatment and removal methods, I realized that I had some special nail clippers (the kind that they use during pedicures to remove cuticles and the extra width of big toenails) and told him that I wouldn’t mind helping him out by removing it myself.  For the longest time when I was little, I wanted to be a surgeon – a brain surgeon, to be precise.  Anyways, he was definitely surprised that I volunteered to do that for him, yet, you could tell he was excited about the prospect of finally putting the pain to rest (it’s been really bothering him for a week now).  And he kept asking me, “Are you sure you really want to do this?”

So at around 6pm after running by my apartment to grab the necessary tools, I headed over to Sly’s house and we prepared for surgery.  By the time I got there, Sly had consumed a six-pack of beer and started taking swigs from a fifth of Evan Williams bourbon.  In addition to the booze, we initiated the process by having him soak his foot in a pot of warm water with Epsom salt generously poured in.  After about 40 minutes or so, Sly had finished over half of the fifth and he gave me the go-ahead to begin the surgery.  I started operating by puncturing the swollen area to drain the puss and then I removed the blister-like skin (Sly definitely stopped me a few times throughout this process for additional gulps of bourbon).

Once the soft tissue was taken care of, the problematic corner of the toenail became visible and it was time to take care of the underlying problem.  At this point, Sly turned long-ways on the sofa and I straddled his knee facing his foot because he said he was afraid that he couldn’t hold still and might kick me in the face or something (three of Sly’s guy friends had come over for support, I guess, and neither of them wanted to take any part in it – not even to simply hold his leg down…yet they definitely wanted to watch me do it.  It was really funny, actually.  They were really squeamish and kept telling me, “I don’t know how you can do that.  You are such a good friend for doing this.”).  The effect of the alcohol in Sly’s system was definitely evident in the amount in which he was bleeding (besides his obvious drunkenness, of course).  So after removing the corner/edge of the toenail, I swabbed it with peroxide, applied Neosporin (it wasn’t exactly Neosporin, but it was something along those lines, I just don’t remember what it was called), applied two Band-Aids, and then wrapped the toe with gauze (because Band-Aids never stay on toes).

In the process of cleaning and bandaging the toe, Sly had fallen asleep.  So I’m just going to have to call Sly in the morning to check up on him and give him care instructions.  But as of right now, I’d say the surgery was a success!


Futile Perplexities

August 18, 2009

(Originally written on June 23, 2009)

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When I got home from work tonight, Napoleon was sitting on his porch drinking by himself (trust me, I’m not judging, I drink alone all the time).  He invited me to join him for a beer, an offer which I accepted, and we got to talking.  Eventually, of course, the whole Gaston situation came into conversation.  A few of Napoleon’s comments keep echoing in my mind:

You need to just get over it.

This is my best friend you’re talking about here.

Provided I would need to remember what you’re saying to me right now, you know I’m going to tell Gaston.

And here I was just seeking a friend to confide with in Napoleon.  I should have known better, he never has been one for understanding in situations such as this.  I mean, Napoleon and Gaston obviously don’t understand what I went through after the whole rape thing and how much it took within me to trust someone again.  I guess I sought a friend in Napoleon because I have no one else to turn to right now; the loneliness makes it difficult.

•     •     •     •     •

Why am I putting myself through so much personal torment and anguish?  Why?  And why can’t I just get over it and move on? It hurts so bad.  There’s no way that this pain could be worth it.  So why?  Why can’t I dig myself out of this hole?


Oh Dear

August 8, 2009

(Originally written on June 16, 2009)

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I don’t even know where to begin with everything that has happened today, but I’m gonna give it my best shot.

I have been watching over Ursula, Chip, and Dale and holding the fort down at Beast’s and Martyr’s house since Sunday because Beast and Martyr are in Arkansas for Beast’s cancer treatment (Beast has a very rare cancer:  multiple myeloma, and that’s where the specialist is) and Martyr’s dad (my grampa) couldn’t make it (he normally steps in to do this kind of stuff in situations such as this).  So, for starters, I’m a little out of my element since I’ve been living out of a suitcase and not getting to sleep in my own bed.  Also, Peabody and Lilly are going nuts being around Martyr’s three cats – they are not happy about it.  Anyways, before they left, Martyr told me that no friends were allowed to spend the night while she and Beast were away.  Not too much to ask, right?  Wrong!  You see, I’m the “cool sister”, if you will, that normally hooks Chip and Dale up with booze when they need it (they’re only 18) – the way I see it, if they don’t get it from me, they’re just going to go and get it from someone else (and Ursula refuses to help them out, even though I did it for her until she turned 21, too…).  So Chip and Dale have been bugging me about that.  And, oh yea, Ursula loves to be a tattletale and get the three of us in trouble; she has a history of being untrustworthy and guilesome.  So I’m torn between maintaining my “cool sis” rep and truly earning Beast’s and Martyr’s trust (while also avoiding having to worry about Ursula’s big mouth).

So now that I’ve gotten that important bit of background laid out, let’s take a step back to what happened last night.  Mario’s parents recently (like, within the past couple of days or so) abruptly decided to get a divorce…while they were on the third day of a two-week long (originally intended, that is) romantic beach getaway together.  In the heat of the argument, Mario’s dad took the car, leaving his mom in Florida by herself with no way of getting back (apparently, she commanded him to do so, making sure to be completely moved out of their house before her return), and came back to town alone.  So…Mario and his family (minus his mom, of course) have been drinking quite heavily over the past couple of days since his dad’s return.  Well, last night was no exception.  I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to speak with Mario in person about his parents’ situation and wanted to be there for him, and he invited Chip, Dale, their bandmates, and me to join him and his family in drowning their sorrows.  I figured, hey, Martyr never said anything about spending or not spending the night out…so we took Mario up on his offer.

Some more relevant background information real quick:  you see, over the course of the past month or so, I’ve been getting these signs from Mario that indicate that he likes me as more than just a friend (but I don’t see him that way).  For example, whenever we’re sitting next to each other, like, on a sofa watching TV or whatever, he will rest his hand on my knee or airdrum on my knee (he’s the drummer in his band), and he once texted me, “I had the biggest crush on you in high school.”  I mean, what am I supposed to say to that?

Well, yesterday afternoon, Mario sent me a series of texts consistent with what I just explained, two of them being, “I’ll feel much better once you’re here,” and, “Everything will be better when I see you.”  So before heading over to Mario’s place, Dale, the bandmates, and I went to Los Compadres for dinner, where I made sure to down a couple of margaritas.  Chip was hanging out with his girlfriend and was planning on catching back up with us at Mario’s afterward.

Okay, I’m starting to see where this is going:  if I continue to describe all the details, this one post is bound to quickly turn into a novel.  So, long story short, I let Dale borrow my car (as opposed to driving his own) – but not before lecturing him (in front of his bandmates) on driving carefully because I’m responsible for everything while Beast and Martyr are away.  Dale met up with us at Mario’s later, but didn’t drink, so I rode back home with him (to Beast’s and Martyr’s house) after a bit.  Not only did I want to avoid any uncomfortable occurrence between Mario and me, but I also felt that staying the night at the house is part of what Martyr asked me to do.

This morning at 6:30am, Dale walked into my bedroom (I had been sleeping).  He quietly approached my bed, handed me my car keys, and said,

Elliott, you aren’t going to believe this…but I wrecked your car.

What?  You’ve got to be kidding me.  Come on, it’s 6:30 in the morning.

No, I know you told me to be careful, but…

Are you serious?

Yea.

Upon realizing that Dale was, in fact, telling the truth, I first made sure that he and the bandmates were alright.  Then, he explained to me what happened:  they were sitting at the red light at the entrance to our neighborhood and when it turned green, Dale decided to floor it.  Then, a deer hopped out in front of the car and he swerved to avoid it, colliding with the guardrail.  They didn’t call the police to report it because they were afraid that there might still have been traces of alcohol on their breath. Oh dear… Well, what was done was done, so I told Dale to just go to bed and that we’d take care of it later when we were awake.

I got up and took a look at the damage:  shattered left headlight and severely dented front bumper, hood, and left front panel, which was pressing on the tire.  I don’t know how he was able to drive it the rest of the way home.  Anyways, Dale wouldn’t get out of bed, so I took it upon myself to inform Beast and Martyr about the incident.  I was expecting the worst – something along the lines of them telling me that they couldn’t believe that I had let this happen.  But, surprisingly, they took it really well.  Really well…and then they informed me that they’re having to extend their stay in Arkansas from tomorrow’s original return date to Friday because of Beast’s condition…  Great.

Oh!  And I also awoke this morning to a couple of additional little “surprises”.  I received a text from Mario last night sometime while I was asleep that said, “So I really like you,” and, around the same time, he twittered or tweeted or whatever, “@[my twitter name] but I am SO into you.”  I mean, the text was one thing, but all of our mutual friends/contacts/followers (I don’t let anyone follow me who I don’t know) can see and read his tweet – I don’t know if they would necessarily get it; they could think it’s an inside joke or something, but still!  What am I going to do?  Do I confront him about it?  Do I just continue to pretend that it didn’t happen?


Happy Birthday to Me

August 7, 2009

(Originally written on June 12, 2009)

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I am 23 years old today.

To be perfectly honest, this birthday is kinda depressing to me – I don’t have any friends here (except for Mario – okay, one) and I’m still jobless.  I really don’t feel like doing anything special to celebrate; to me, today is just like any other day lately – and that’s the way I want it to be.  However, Martyr has been bugging me all week about making plans and she’s been really adamant about it.  I’ve explained myself to her several times:  that I don’t feel that I really have anything to celebrate and to celebrate with the family is just going to remind me that I don’t have friends here and make me feel even more lonely.  But that apparently didn’t matter to her.  She suggested earlier this week that we get pedicures together, but I told her that I’d rather have the money.  She said that was okay at first, but today she insisted that I go with her to get one anyways.

I mean, that’s cool.  It felt really good and my toenails look nice now.  Don’t get me wrong, I very much enjoyed it; but shouldn’t I be the one to decide what I want to do on my birthday?

Anyways, after the pedicures, I went out to Los Compadres for dinner and margaritas with the fam (Beast, Martyr, Ursula, Chip, and Dale) plus two of Chip’s and Dale’s friends.  Beast and Martyr surprised me with $400 and a matching ring and pair of earrings that I absolutely LOVE.  After dinner, Beast, Martyr, and I all went downtown for some celebratory drinks.  We later met up with Mario and the four of us then hit up all of my favorite bars that I haven’t visited in a while.

This birthday turned out much better than I was expecting for it to be.  All in all, I’d call it a success!

•     •     •     •     •

Mind you, I haven’t forgotten what Gaston said about coming back in town for my birthday.  I’ve been nervous all day about running into him, yet I still kinda hoped that I would.  We haven’t communicated in any way whatsoever since that Wednesday when everything between us officially ended (June 3rd).  Well, he didn’t come back after all.  I didn’t even receive so much as a happy birthday text from him…