Meet me at Lock 3

First of all, parking in downtown Akron is a bitch. Fortunately, it's all free after 6pm if you can find any. Once you have parked, downtown Akron is absolutely amazing.



I was meeting Behry at Lock 3. He had invited me to this album release party at Musica Friday night for this band. He was friends with the singer and had an extra ticket that was meant for a bud who backed out at the last minute. I didn't mind being the stand-in. I haven't been to a concert in forever and free is free. This invite came at the conclusion of a day long chat exchange we had on Thursday. Yeah, things were moving along quickly. Anyway, we met at Lock 3 and had dinner and pre-show drinks at the bar across the street from it: Lockview.



I tried 3 different brands of Ocktoberfest beer and ordered the muenster grilled cheese with pesto and cucumber. The place was cool. I liked the atmosphere. It used to be a music spot before the owner decided he'd get robbed less if it was just a bar and eatery.



If Behry hadn't guided me there expertly, I'm not sure I would have found Musica on my own. It was tucked into an alley. Very low key and dark except for the giant neon sign suggesting this was a place to dance. Which, no one did, by the way.



Since it was the album release party for We Are Public Radio, everyone in attendance was getting a copy of the album for free just for coming to the show. Plus, there were three other local bands set to perform. I was a little excited about all of it.



Goodbye River was already on stage when we got there. Female singer who was completely overwhelmed and drowned out by the boys in the band. Probably would have been a decent set if we could hear and understand the chick. Who knows, though.



After Z followed and completely killed it. This was the surprise act of the evening that no one saw coming. In a word: amazing. I made a deal with Behry: I'd buy the drinks if he bought their album and burnt me a copy. He better follow through on his end. I need more of this music.



I don't remember enough about Rhett Edwards to post anything except that he was there and performed something.



We Are Public Radio finally took the stage. They were good. Very, very mellow. I can't say I enjoyed them nearly as much as After Z. I've been listening to the free album since then and my opinions haven't changed. After Z stole the show and my fan loyalty.

Too drunk to drive by the end of the night, I passed out in my car and slept it off in a parking deck in downtown Akron before waking up at nearly 6am and driving straight to work for some overtime and a delightful, lingering hangover.

Shenanigans at the gay bar

We took separate cars to the gay bar. Clay and Ronnie went in Clay's Escalade. I went with Woody and Bear in Bear's... Dodge Caravan.



Oh, yeah. I forgot about Bear. Bear is a large Irish guy who drives a crappy minivan. He's not nearly as large as the man in the photo above, but I love that photo and may never have another opportunity to use it in a post, so... Anyway, Bear is hilarious. He dressed up as a leprachuan for Halloween last year. It's the second most hilarious Halloween photo I've ever seen. The most hilarious Halloween photo I've ever seen was of someone dressed as Captain Janeway from Startrek Voyager. I wish I could post both of those photos, but I don't have copies of either. I was merely shown them by Woody.



"Ronnie, I have a confession to make. I showed Joshua a photo of you."
"Of course you did. Why? Why would you show him that?"

Ronnie was incredibly embarrassed that I had seen his Captain Janeway Halloween costume. Woody had shown it to me a week before and then again after I met Ronnie for the first time. I didn't even make the connection until the second time. He had to shave his beard and everything, but he pulled it off perfectly. He was a dead match for Captain Janeway. It was eery. It was also the best drag attempt I've ever seen. Then Woody made an observation of his own.

"I think Ronnie thinks you're hot. Otherwise, he would have been proud of that photo. He must like you or he wouldn't have been so embarrassed that I showed you that photo."

That was incredibly good news because I had developed a serious man crush on Ronnie since the first time I saw him in person. I wanted to pursue that possibility a little further but I was interrupted by the sudden appearance of bright yellow Jockey briefs thrown dramatically onto the table we were gathered around by some queen who had strutted over from the outdoor bar and exclaimed "I think one of you lost these!"



We hadn't been in the place ten minutes and there was already a pair of underwear on the table. Also partially shown in the photo are Gay Tony and Straight Johnny who we met up with at the gay bar - more friends of Woody from his work. Not shown in the photo because he wasn't present that night would be Straight Ryan, also a friend of Woody from work who apparently was the owner of the underwear in question which he had lost them somehow during a previous visit. Anyway, Ronnie slipped away during the whole fiasco and I didn't see him for the rest of the night. I had lost interest in him way before the end of the night anyway. He was cute, but that was about it. He might have simply been overly embarrassed by the fact that I had seen him in drag from last Halloween, but he was also trying to pick up other guys. That's fine, but my interest ends at that juncture. Besides, I was completely distracted by Akron Leatherman 2012 (his title was conveniently bedazzled on the back of his leather vest) who was in attendance and had decided to pull on the pair of bright yellow Jockeys over his leather get-up and proceeded to dance the night away looking like a more obviously homosexual leather fetish Robin. Meanwhile, I actually ended up spending most of the evening bantering back and forth with his roommate Clay. Clay is a total smart ass which occasionally boarders on assholedom, but... I can be like that, too. We definitely proved to be worthy opponents for each other.

There's just something about a bad boy that is difficult to ignore or resist. Or maybe that's just me. Maybe I can't. The same way I'm drawn into ridiculous shenanigans.



Photo credit to GitEmSteveDave. Awesome gif. Props.

I wanna take you to a gay bar.

"Are you coming along, too?"
"Um. Well..." I'm secretly horrified by the idea. "Absolutely. Of course."
"You're not wearing that, are you?"
"No. I have pants somewhere that I can wear."
"You look like you're ready for a basketball game."
"That's hilarious on a few different levels."




Clay, who I've only just met, has been ripping on me for the duration. He looks like Ron Perlman's character from Sons of Anarchy and he even rides a bike. He isn't actually wearing his leather biker get-up, but he might as well be. I can still see it on him. I'm somewhat intimidated by him and curious about his constant attention to me. But I am the new guy, afterall. I'm fresh meat. Maybe that's all it is. Maybe not. I probably don't want to know. I finish my beer instead and Clay just smirks at me. He's one of the four other guys crammed with me inside Woody's office. His roommate Ronnie came with him.



Ronnie looks like a stocky Jake Gyllenhaal with a full beard. He has truly amazing eyes and would be the hottest man I've ever met if he wasn't such a hot mess. If he ever gets his shit together - well, even if he doesn't... Who am I kidding? The man is gorgeous. But, like I said, he's a hot damn mess. Also, Ronnie has been waiting to hear back from this guy he was supposed to meet tonight for drinks. Clay drug him along to get him drunk and hopefully make him less of a moody little bitch. I met both of them through Woody.



Woody (who looks like Woody Harrelson but thinner and with a goatee) is a character and he knows absolutely everyone - and absolutely everyone knows him. By association with him, I'm getting to know absolutely everyone as well. If I'm ever anywhere in Akron, I can drop his name and everything will be all good. Anyway, we met a week ago. He's a cool guy, but not for me, so we just hang out once a week. It wasn't necessarily the cats, either. Woody has 6 felines that have completely taken over his home. He's the crazy cat lady of the Akron gay community. It wasn't necessarily NOT the cats, though. They may have had something to do with it.

It's funny because I met him the week after the horrible fair date I went on (which I'm still intending on posting about at some point). The same day I met him, I started talking to another guy. This other guy was at the same fair I went to on my date, and again later with my sister, and he was looking for someone to hang out with him. I wasn't about to have myself another terrible fair date experience and I told him about it. Well, he insisted it would go much, much differently if I accepted his invitation. But, I was already meeting Woody and I still wasn't feeling the fair so he asked me to another fair happening on the following weekend. Since Woody turned out to be more buddy material than anything, I eventually agreed. And, since Woody knows absolutely everyone and the guy was from that area, I asked him about the other guy.

"Of course I know who that is. That's my ex-husband."
"No, it isn't."
"It sure is. He ask you to the fair?"
"Shut the fuck up. He did. He actually asked me to two different fairs."
"Of course he did. He loves fairs. I shouldn't be surprised. I know what he likes or what he looks for. He would eat you with a spoon."

This story, naturally, has become an instant legend in my new circle. Clay and Ronnie laughed for about twenty minutes straight over it. I laughed for about ten when I originally found out and I still chuckle over it now. I didn't go, obviously. That's a little weird. Also, he's more of a mess than Ronnie. I'm not about all that drama.

We're all crammed together in his office doing some drinking and chainsmoking. I'm relieved any time the conversation isn't centered directly on me. But, I'm the new guy and everyone wants to know all about me - Clay especially.

"So, when you're not chatting up my boy's ex-husband... What do you do?"
"I work in a factory."
"Blue collar guy. You're just all kinds of rough trade, aren't you?"
"Look who's talking, SAMCRO."
"Bit of a pistol, too. I like that."
"You have no idea."
"Guess I'll have to find out. Are you coming along, too?"

So, we're back to that question. Woody wanted to go out, so he invited some friends to go with him. I decided I wasn't really into it (especially since I've never gone to a gay bar in my entire life - something I told absolutely NO ONE in that group) so I was going home whenever they all showed up. But, then Clay and Ronnie showed up. Ronnie was the reason I hadn't left already. Sure, he had something going on already but that obviously wasn't working out. I wasn't interested in starting anything with him, but I did want to hang out with him and gaze dreamily into those eyes a while longer.

Also, I was tired of Clay's shit. Damn right, I'm going.

(...to be continued)

How I Feel Lately

Misdirection and Awkwardness

Life has been really strange for me recently. I have been completely out of control and out of my freaking mind lately. Before my grandfather's funeral, I was an incredibly normal, well-adjusted, boring, sane, respectable, lame, rational, tired person. Maybe not even a person, though - more like a very polite and quiet machine. Especially at work. Then I called off for the day of the wake and again for the day of the funeral and again for a personal mental health day that I just slept my way through. I still don't know the appropriate amount of time given for bereavement but I didn't much care at the time and no one has said anything to me about it one way or the other. Everyone just keeps asking if I'm ok. Of course, I am. I am just fine.

Seriously though? No, not really. You don't carry dead bodies around and come out of it feeling good. I don't ever want to be a pallbearer again, but I imagine I will at some point. That whole week was a total blur of extended family, moderate intoxication, and awkwardness.

I've been overly social lately. I feel like I need to cram as much human interaction into every spare moment of my life that I can possibly manage right now. It's a little exhausting, but it's fun. I've been splitting the majority of my time between the two brothers: Freckles and Werd. They are completely different and somehow almost identical. It's strange. Werd is just like Freckles used to be when I first met him. His availability is completely open since he's unemployed and single, while Freckles is neither. Plus, Freckles has two kids which is a lot for me to deal with although they both completely love me. R&B love Uncle Josh - Little B in particular. He just climbs up on me and goes right to sleep. I'm like a real life teddy bear. It's good, but it can be a little overwhelming trying to fit into the Freckles entourage of crazy bitch ex-wife, current girlfriend, and two little hyperactive boys. Werd is much less complicated. I also enjoy how jealous it makes the other brother when I'm hanging out with one or the other of them. Sometimes I hang out with both of them and save us all the drama.

I was already spending an unhealthy amount of time with Werd before my grandfather's passing. Then he sort of became my grieving partner and spent the entire week with me and the family. It would have been strange to me if everything wasn't already completely strange with everything else going on. It was good to have someone not related to me be there for me. Also, the family seemed to really like him - my cousins from Georgia especially. I thought about maybe warning Werd about them beforehand, but I decided to just let him figure it out for himself. I knew they'd eat him alive. I hadn't anticipated the actual reality of it.

"Ok. I don't want this to be weird."
"What's weird about taking you to the lake for cigarettes?"
"No, not that. My parents told me you might be gay."
"What the hell? Yes, I am. How do they even know?"
"Your mom."
"God damn it. Of course."

I'm never going to have to worry about coming out to anyone since everyone else in my life is overjoyed to out me to anyone who might not be already informed and in the know. It's ridiculous and not what I really wanted the focus of that week to be on. But, here we were. I had offered to take my cousin Moe from Georgia to buy her some cigarettes. We were in my car for all of three seconds when she had to confess to knowing this about me via her parents via my mother's massive mouth.

"It's not like they were just like 'Hey, Josh is gay!'"
"Oh, so... how did that come up then exactly?"
"Well, when I knew we were coming up here I started asking about everyone. I had asked if you were married or had any kids yet, and their answer was a little strange and vague. So, I asked them why they were so sure that was never going to happen and they told me."
"Oh. Ok. That makes sense."
"Yeah, so... anyway. Is Werd yours?"
"Wow. Wouldn't that be something? No, he isn't mine. He's just a friend."
"Oh. Really? He seems really, really gay."
"Yes, sometimes he really does."

I had been snatching up all the cousins as they came in and out of the kitchen and forcing them to join a game of Phase 10 to keep them from annoying the adults and to save them from being bored senseless by the adults. We had quite a game going by the time Moe and I left for a few minutes to get cigarettes and share information. I thought I felt awkward beforehand. Nope. I had no idea what awkward really felt like until after that moment. Anyway, the game lasted for around 5 hours and my little brother Ty finally claimed the victory. I took Werd home. I wasn't expecting more awkwardness.

"Ok, dude. I have to ask you something and you have to answer."
"I already know what this is, but go ahead. I'll answer."
"Are you gay?"
"Yes, I am. Which one of my lovely relatives told you? Was it my mother?"
"Moe."
"Of course. God damn it."
"It's cool. You seemed kind of gay to me anyway."
"Really? Great."
"I have pretty good gaydar."
"Is that right?"
"They all thought we were dating, too."
"Yes, they did. They sure did. I don't bring anyone home or around the family. So, it makes sense that you and I would be involved since I brought you with me."
"I had fun with your family."
"Oh yeah? Hold onto that. It'll change. Soon."
"No, it won't. Your family is cool."
"You're an outsider. Everything looks better from there. Now that you're inside the house, you'll see how it really is. Just wait. There's too many of us together and it's only a matter of time before shit goes sideways in a serious way."
"Really?"
"Yep. Quote me."

Again, I'm never going to have to worry about coming out to anyone since everyone else in my life is overjoyed to out me to anyone who might not be already informed and in the know. It's not that big of a deal, I suppose. It's a little annoying, though.

I won't talk specifically about the incident between my little brother Ty and my grandmother on his last night in her house, but I will say that it got physical and that Werd was present for it. I wasn't, because I have the good sense not to sleep in that house when it's full of my various extended family members. I tried to warn them all that they were really pushing my grandmother's patience and that they should back off. But, I can't control what other people choose to do - even if it's ignore my impeccable advice. I happen to be an expert on crazy and speak it fluently. It's a family dialogue. Oh wells.

The week of the funeral really kick-started my social season. Ever since, I haven't been home much but to sleep off my exhaustion. I've been sleeping every other day. I've been too busy for much else. The other night I even went to Sharon Speedway with my sister. The day before that I was doing some target practice with the brothers and Freckles new gun. I still work 6 days a week so I'm already busy enough with that. I'm still recovering financially from taking those three days off for bereavement, but I'll be sort out by October.

Oh, and I'm dating now. I'm dating A LOT, actually. I'll discuss that in another post, however.

Momento

Originally, I was going to simply call him Gypsy, but things are so very different now. Sometimes that's the trouble with getting to know someone: there's so much you can't know until it's too late to unknow it all again. Unless you're Momento and then forgetting is the only thing you're able to do. Things aren't quite that simple, however.

I honestly don't believe he's the idiot everyone thinks he is. I also honestly don't believe anyone is quite that skilled at playing dumb. He is somewhat of an idiot and he does play it up as much as he can. But, there's a little more to it. It took me a few days of working with him to figure it out. That was months ago and I'm still stuck with him as my work partner.

As an immigrant whose first language obviously wasn't English, Momento has a serious language barrier to overcome. He does alright, but it's impossible to be entirely certain how much of what I say he actually comprehends. I try, with great difficulty, to use the lowest common denominator when choosing my words to him. I do feel sorry for him. It's a less than ideal situation. I feel even sorrier for myself having to manage it and him. The real problem is that Momento can't read in English. That, of course, is only an assumption of mine, but the clues are there.

"Can you read this? I forgot my glasses."
"You forgot them again? You forget them every day."
"I know. I don't know why I can't remember the stupid things."

I haven't and won't ask him to confirm my suspicions. I don't think there's ever an appropriate way to ask a man about that. Anyway, it's not like knowing will change anything. It's a little late in the game to start teaching this 50-something man how to read in English at a level that will allow him to work the computers or read production orders. I can't out him without proof - not that I would anyway. Besides, he has somehow managed to keep his job for five years and I cannot believe I am the only person able to figure out how all his pieces don't quite fit together properly in all this time.

It wouldn't be as much of an issue if he weren't at least somewhat of an idiot. A clever man could adapt. I, for example, could learn enough of whatever written language was being used at my job to be able to read and comprehend it after five freaking years. It's not like I'm talking about entire paragraphs or anything. There are only so many words in play: cheese type (ie. Swiss, Muenster, Cheddar) and cut size (ie. sticks, bars, half moons). Everything else is numbers: width, height, length, weight, quantity, etc. I'd only have to memorize probably 10 - maybe 20 at most - words to be able to comprehend production orders and computer monitors on the line. That means he would only have had to learn 4 words of English text each year for the past 5 years.

Of course I naturally empathize for his situation, but... Are you fucking kidding me?! Seriously?! He can't naturally learn one vocabulary word every 90 days?! How is that possible?! It's not possible. It's also not possible to disregard logic that proves he doesn't care enough to try. It's sad and aggravating and entirely my problem now. I'm growing ever more bitter and resentful about it as our time together continues.

He also confuses numbers and genuinely sucks at basic math. This is a serious problem. He either prepares half or twice as much cheese for me as necessary. Also, he forgets how to do even the most remedial work tasks every single day. I used to actually try to show him how to do whatever, but when I realized I'd have to repeatedly show him the same things every day... I'm seriously not that patient. It's incredibly exhausting, too. Anymore I just shrug and point him toward an actual supervisor - because they actually get paid to deal with this.

No one else will work with him, which is how I got stuck with him. I almost died during my performance evaluation when she read the part about me "performing better and at a higher level than certain long-term employees (insert his crazy name here)." That was actually written in the comments section of my performance evaluation. That's an official document comparing me and ranking me superior to a coworker by name. I have never seen that in my entire life. I never thought I would. It's unprofessional. It's true, obviously, and it would have still been just as true (and just as obvious who was being referred to) without including his name. Anyway, that's not important to the point - I just would have addressed that differently, if at all.

I would also have handled my own training a little differently. Instead of throwing me on the line without any warning, guidance, explanation, training, or practice when Bloody Richard took a week of vacation time... Let me reenact that for you before I continue. I came into work Monday morning to find Momento in my place and no Bloody Richard.

"What is going on? Am I not on this line anymore?"
"Richard is on vacation. You are Josh?"
"Yep. Are you going to run the machine?"
"No, you are. I have never."
I actually laughed, but I quickly stopped. "Oh, shit. Are you fucking serious right now?! I've never done it either. No, I can't. This is insane."

...but I did and it definitely was a long, terrible, crazy day. No one prepared me for that transition. No one trained me. I just started doing things. I trained myself by trying/failing/retrying/succeeding/doing. I learned by teaching myself not to repeat mistakes. I have a natural gift when it comes to acquiring knowledge. I am also nothing if not a true survivalist. This sink or swim method of training amplified by survival instinct and focused my spontaneous learning skills. By the time Bloody Richard returned I had mastered the machine and computer system and they decided to reassign him to a previously retired line they had just reactivated now that they had someone to run it. As it stands, only Bloody Richard and I am able to run these two lines. Which may explain why I wasn't trained: Bloody Richard enjoys job security and no one else knows enough to do it, apart from me now. Currently, I have to take my breaks in the midst of larger orders so that I can briefly explain to the break relievers how to maintain the status quo until my return and hope nothing seriously crazy happens. It does anyway and I usually return to chaos and panic - but I try to minimize the likelihood of it if I can. It seems impossible that I'm one of the newest employees and still the second most knowledgeable about how everything works. Of course, that makes it entirely my own fault that I've made myself invaluable and will stay on that line partnered with Momento forever.

I should end on a more positive note. I absolutely love that Momento smells like he moonlights as a cologne tester for Old Spice and that this smell overwhelms the usual aura of cheese/mold-based odors that usually surround me every time he comes to me (literally in excess of 50 times daily) with the same ridiculous series of questions and problems I addressed or redirected to management the previous day. ...and the previous day. ...and the previous day. ...and the previous day. I appreciate this aspect of his hygiene above anything else he could offer, except for the one day he called off and they partnered me with someone decent. He can do that again and as often as he likes.

Droiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid

I absolutely love hearing that whenever I get a text - which isn't all that often since only three people have my new number. Yes, I got a new phone and number as well. No, I couldn't wait another month. I will, however, be keeping my old phone and number combo until a certain mess is resolved - which will be around the first of July now, probably hopefully. Anyway, I still need to manually transfer contacts from my old phone (an incredibly boring task, honestly) and update people with the new number (or not, depending on who these contacts are and if I even bother transferring the information). I honestly don't even know my number yet. It's a weird, random assortment of digits.

I have a DROID RAZR MAXX. I should mention that I downloaded the blogger app for it and am actually using it to author this post at the moment. The phone put its name in all caps - I didn't do that. I'm not sure how I feel about predictive text, but I know how I feel about it choosing all caps on its own. Still, minus the ego, this phone is a massive upgrade. It's not the DROID4 (there it goes with the caps again) I wanted, but the battery life on that phone was depressing. It wasn't nearly as depressing as the battery life on my old phone, which was only a few hours between charges, but it wasn't long enough to last through an eight hour work day. Shame, since it features the slide out physical five row qwerty keyboard I still find myself pining for as I try to become accustomed to the touch screen virtual keyboard. Even with predictive text, I am constantly backspacing because my enormous fingers will tap the letters adjacent to the one I meant to tap. But, I think I made the right choice in regards to battery life because after ten hours off the charger I still had 80% charge. That's freaking amazing.

Also, the cameras are amazing. I haven't actually taken any pictures yet but I was playing around with the front and rear facing cameras. The photos I will definitely be taking a lot more of will be incredible. Seriously, hi def photos are forthcoming.

Anyway, I realize an entire post about my awesome new phone is not terribly intriguing or tactful, but I really do love my new phone and I wanted to test the blogger app for it that I will definitely be utilizing frequently. It's much easier than posting via email via phone and my DROID (and/or this app) has spell check which is critical as I learn to use my virtual keyboard with its tiny, sensitive keys.

Coffy

"Are you from Mineral Ridge?"
"No, I'm not. Why?"
"People from Mineral Ridge are racists."
"Oh. I see. Well, I'm not from there. So..."

Coffy is a black man and one of the first people to make a serious impression on me at my new temp job at the cheese factory. I've decided to call him Coffy as an homage to Pam Grier and because he chugs an entire thermus of it every morning. Besides, if I'm going to be accused of being a racist, I might as well act the part, at least in jest, and allege that all black people look the same to me anyway. Also, Pan Grier is fierce and I welcome an opportunity to work her into a post. This might be my only real chance to do so. Sucka.



This conversation happened my first week at the cheese factory, probably my second day there. As if being presumed to be a racist from Mineral Ridge wasn't bad enough, just wait - there's more.

"Well, folks from Mineral Ridge are also notorious liars. Two-faced, back-stabbing liars."
"Oh. Ok. I see where this is going, but I'm still not from there."
"How can I be sure? Isn't that what someone from there would say?"
"I guess. I wouldn't know."

So, there it was. I might be a racist, two-faced, back-stabbing liar from Mineral Ridge. In Coffy's eyes, anyway, I was. I couldn't really prove I wasn't and any attempt to do so would just make it all seem that much more likely. To be completely honest, I had to use Google Maps to even figure out where Mineral Ridge is. It's only 10 miles from where I live. I don't think I've ever been there - at least not knowingly or on purpose. I've heard of it, but seriously had no idea it was so close. Also, I find it incredibly hard to believe the entire town is populated by these deceitful bigots. It's funny how prejudice spawns more of the same. In fact, I was beginning to hate the people of Mineral Ridge for doing whatever the hell they did to Coffy to make him hate them so much and misdirect that anger at me.



About a week later, I had a different conversation with Coffy.

"Do you drive a little blue car?"

Immediately, I'm in panic mode. Did he do something to my little blue car or is he making sure he has the right vehicle for when he does do something to my little blue car later?



I'm completely freaked out by this random and incredibly creepy inquiry. I really don't want to answer the question.

"Yes."
"I thought that was you. I saw you getting off exit for East Market Street yesterday."
"Oh. Yeah. I live right there in Warren."
"No kidding. Me, too. Maybe once we get to know each other a little better, we could carpool to work."
"Wow. Maybe."

The carpooling suggestion actually scared me more than the possibility of him sabotaging my vehicle or following me home. I discussed it with Nurse Egg that evening.

"So, he believes me now. I'm not from Mineral Ridge, so I'm probably not a liar or racist either."
"It's not so much that he believes you. Now he has proof."
"Yeah. That's exactly it, actually."

Since proving that I'm not a resident of Mineral Ridge, things with Coffy have been great. He's taken a strange interest in me. He is constantly helping me out at work even though we work on completely seperate lines. We always greet each other - actually, he greets me and I respond. It's strange, but that's typically how things in my life naturally go.

Sort of like a Quentin Tarantino film...



Love Pam Grier.

In case I ever go missing, here's a recent photo.

I was just outside on the deck enjoying some tea and posting until it became too bright to see anything. I'll probably be back later once the sun passes over to the other side of the house. Until then... food, chores, and entertainment while I enjoy the first of two days off this week! Sweet!

9... on a scale of 7 to 13.

Yeppers. That happened. It happened on Thursday. Thanks to my sister, Nurse Egg, (aka Cracked Eggler who is resuming her blogging efforts which is a very delightful surprise) it was an amazing birthday. She bought me the cake pictured here. It is a strawberry cheesequake ice cream cake from Dairy Queen - chunks of cheesecake and strawberry filling frozen inside an ice cream cake. Delicious! She also showered me with gift cards and 36 cups of pudding.

It was also a great day at work, but I'll get to that mess later in a different post.

Since the start of this year and my first temp job, I have now lost 40 pounds. I'm still 20 pounds heavier than I was previous to my whole trucking experiment fiasco, but I'm working it down and will hopefully reduce beyond my previous normal weight. That's the continuing goal, anyway. From March until May I plateaued with my weight-loss efforts, but I've finally found away over, under, or around that wall. I think I can attribute a lot of that to the stress of finding another job after my first temp job imploded. Fortunately, things are going incredibly smoothly now at the second temp job at the cheese factory. But, again, I'll get to that in another post.

I slept in until 0730 this morning. Un-fucking-believable. I can not even begin to express how awesome that is to sleep past 0500 on a Saturday morning. Yes, I have two days off this weekend. I have the entire day today to do whatever the hell I want - which is probably not much at all, but that's also a good thing. I even have all of Sunday to finish doing nothing at all. How bizarre. I mowed the lawn yesterday after work so I don't have my usual chore to squeeze into my time off somewhere. I still have to do laundry, however, but that's requires the least amount of actual effort to complete. I just made some Arnold Palmer half and half Arizona instant iced tea. This is another thing Nurse Egg brought home on my birthday. Now I'm enjoying it on the deck and posting. It's not 90 bloody degrees out yet, so I'm enjoying that as well.

My phone has been misbehaving a lot lately. I get texts several hours later. It doesn't ring when I receive calls. I get only some of my voicemails. My battery life is a few hours if I'm lucky. I have to keep it plugged in at all times for it to even maybe work. I might look into having the battery replaced if I didn't hate the thing even when it is working properly and don't have very serious plans to upgrade and switch carriers in the near future. I would have done it for my birthday, but there are certain scenarios in play which require that I still be reachable by several involved parties. I am definitely planning on changing my phone number when I switch providers and upgrade, but that must wait until this whole mess is resolved. I'd rather not discuss the situation, but it's terrible and I can't wait for it to end. I sincerely hope it goes quietly into that good night. It's one of very few sources of conflict and stress in my life at the moment and I'm just not interested in prolonging or antagonizing it any further.

I've been taking a lot of surveys lately. Everyone seems incredibly interested in my opinion. I'm fine with obliging until they demand I explain my opinions in detail.

"The thing I find most appealing about expressing my personal opinions/feelings is, that being such, I'm not required to explain/defend/justify them to anyone for any reason. These are my personal opinions/feelings and they are not negotiable/debatable. Take them or leave them, because you'll never change them and I won't tolerate any attempts in that effort."

Probably not the response they were expecting. Too bad. Obviously, they should re-evaluate their expectations or bother someone else. I'm also slightly annoyed by rating scales that are not designed in multiples of 5 or 10. 6 point rating scale? Seriously? What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Who rates anything in degrees of 17%? I am 34% pleased with this product or service. No. I don't think so. It reminds me of a comment I made once to someone who wanted me to rate their performance.

"Don't worry. You're definitely a 9... on a scale of 7 to 13."

I realize this is in direct violation of what I've just said about rating scales, but it's still incredibly hilarious.

Numbers

Of course I worked today. Of course. I'll eventually get to posting more about work in general, but for now I'll just say it's interesting and exhausting most of the time. Thanks to the weekly mandatory full day of overtime, I am paying debts off left and right. It's the best feeling ever. If this keeps up, I'll be nearly debt-free by the end of the year. Hurray for that. Can't even wait.

I might even get money back from the government next year when I file my taxes instead of having to pay for using unemployment benefits. I can't wait to find out. I might start doing the math now and see.

I actually just did based on my anticipated income (not accounting for my potential quarterly pay increases based on job performance) and current federal withholding allowances. Yeah, I'm that guy. I enjoy math. I like how orderly and precise it is. Also, it's useful - essential even. Anyway... Yes, I'll be getting money back next year when I do my taxes. I won't be getting a lot back, because my current federal withholding allowances are appropriate, but at least I won't have to pay in. In case you're interested in following my geeky example, TurboTax has an amazing tax calculator (which I have just used and completely recommend) you can use online for free to determine your own potential income tax result. It's awesome and easy to use. Of course, you will still be required to estimate your gross income, percentage of federal tax withholding, blah blah blah. That's the fun part for me, but you might not agree. Keep in mind, however, that this is only an estimate and that estimate is based on this year's tax protocols and not the updated tax codes we'll be faced with next year. Still, it's pretty awesome and what else are you going to do on a Saturday night? Anyway... I don't think there was an actual point to any of this other than to entertain myself, but... Whatever. Yay, math!

Speaking of numbers, my birthday is next week. This anniversary would be more appropriately referred to as my agingday. Blah. It's the big one, people. 30. Oh, wow. Yeah. I don't even know what else to say about that. This happens Thursday.

I am not permanent, but nothing is.

The Saturday I posted "Half a post" is when my raise went into effect and at time and a half for the entire day of overtime. Very, very exciting. I realized I had gotten my raise when I went to pay bills online and my account balance was far too high compared to what I was expecting it to be. My raise increase was nearly $4/hr. I can expect another $5/hr. raise spaced out over the next 18 months or so. In the meantime, this is quite a substantial increase already and incredibly helpful financially.

Really glad I didn't take that job in management that I haven't even told you about being offered and immediately rejecting. Same for the job for the old school Italian who keeps the baseball bat behind his desk that I did tell you about being offered and rejecting shortly after being hired at the cheese factory. The management job was a recent offer - I got the call on Friday when I was sick as hell. The pay versus the hours I'd have to commit and the additional stress of managing people and things again makes it a far less tempting offer than the situation I'm currently very happy and satisfied with. I don't want that, possibly ever again. At the very least, I don't want that right now. Maybe eventually I'll want it again. I seriously doubt it, though. I'm making more as a temp than I've ever made doing anything else. It's hilarious. Sort of.

Yes, I'm still technically a temp. This is only aggravating whenever I need to get into the building at the cheese factory. I can't. I have to wait around until someone else comes along either headed in or out of the building themselves and piggy-back off their magnetic security key card swipe. I don't understand this at all. It completely defies all logic, especially after working there for over a month. I had a magnetic time clock key card after the first few days, so why not give me access to the building I work in to use said time clock and perform my job functions?! I don't know. It's ridiculous. I really hope I don't have to continue relying on other employees to get me in the building for the next 18 months. That would be beyond absurd. I would find a way to either hack the magnetic strip reader or clone a functional security key card of another employee if this continues for even another month or two. There is no telling how long it will take them to consider making me an official, permanent employee. Some people work there for a whole year before they are offered employment with the actual cheese factory. Except for the building access problem, I'm totally fine with that possibility.

For the first time since Thanksgiving 2010, I feel like there's a chance in hell of me actually getting my shit together and having a quality of life again that isn't miserable, depressing, and entirely marginalized. I feel like I'm living again, not just surviving more bullshit and waiting for something to change. Things are good now. Finally. They really are.

I don't handle illness very well.

I woke up sick Friday morning. Ok, I woke up almost freaking dead Friday morning. I took some tylenol and dayquil and drove to work. It was a horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE day. It was a light day, which is the only reason I survived. I've been on top of it lately. Wednesday and Thursday were my best days this week. I had most of the entire day's workload completed before second shift showed up. By Friday, there was barely enough to last beyond the first half of the shift. Unfortunately, they wouldn't send us home early once we completed everything. So, I watched Bloody Richard change wires on the cutting jigs and tighten bolts on the crane for two hours. At least I didn't have to move, because my body ached every-freaking-where. Speaking of Bloody Richard: he's originally from England. Working with him is basically like working with Vinny Jones' father or something. Every other word is fucking.

"These new fucking gloves they got us are fucking garbage."

They changed our gloves a week ago. Instead of clear gloves, they're blue now. People are still completely losing their minds about it. Bloody Richard is not impressed, though. Anyway, I like working with Bloody Richard. It amuses me greatly.

I came home and Nurse Egg wanted to move furniture. This is probably the last thing I wanted to do. She ordered a sofa, arm chair, and an ottoman about a month or so ago. Apparently, they had to make the damn furniture. Anyway, it was finally going to be delivered Saturday so we needed to move the old furniture out of the way and into the basement for my man cave. We did that and then I self-medicated. Nurse Egg went to the store after I listed all my symptoms of to her and she returned with every health remedy on the market - and ginger ale because I couldn't handle anything else. She made sausages for dinner, which I didn't eat. I took a shower because my entire body really started hurting after moving the furniture. I almost threw up in the shower. That was delightful. I took several different products and slept for... I'm not entirely sure. Friday night and Saturday morning is all sort of a blur. I was in and out of consciousness. I was taking pills and drinking syrups and forcing myself to chug THERAFLU - the nastiest shit ever, by the way. Drinking that was almost worse than how I was feeling.

This isn't the post I wanted to write, but I'm still not entirely back to normal yet. I actually ate today, so that's an improvement. I don't hurt everywhere either, but I have absolutely no energy whatsoever. Oh, and I had Saturday off. How nice. I completely wasted it by being sick, but I'm really glad I wasn't supposed to go to work today because that seriously wouldn't even have happened. I'm actually still really amazed I was able to make it through Friday like that.

I'm glad I have a couch in the basement now. I've been sleeping on it since we moved it down here. Since I've been sleeping all day, I'm going to attempt to get some work done around the house and hopefully be in my right mind enough to write the post I actually intended on writing this weekend before my health betrayed me. So far, I'm succeeding at laundry only. It's a start and way more than I was capable of doing 24 hours ago.

Half a post.

I worked today. Full day of overtime. Again. Yet again. Always. I'm no longer surprised every week when they announce everyone will be working a full day of overtime on Saturday. I was only genuinely surprised when they allowed us the Saturday off for Easter weekend. Other than that one instance, I've been working six days a week since I started. No raise yet, though. My 30 day training/orientation period was complete as of last Tuesday. So... maybe next paycheck will reflect the pay increase. I hope so, anyway. That would be absolutely lovely.

Speaking of Tuesday, Freckles wanted to hang out and possibly go to Nelson Ledges on Tuesday. I haven't been there in a couple of decades. I definitely wanted to go. Unfortunately, it snowed all day while I was working Tuesday. It snowed in freaking April! Un-fucking-believable. Anyway... Thanks for killing my dreams, NE Ohio, as usual. It would have made a great photo post. Also, it would have been fun. It would have been a lot of fun.

Too many variables at the table.

You should come visit me..

Nope. I have dinner with my family from Arkansas. They're here Sun-Thurs.

Whatever...like you wanna hang with family ..lol

I do.

Nope..

Yep yep

Bs....what time is dinner I'm coming

530

At your place?'

Nope. Golden Corral in Hermitage I think.

Well let me know for sure so I can come crash the party.

Hahaha. You're not that bored.

I might just be..lol you never know

I seriously doubt it.

Haha we shall see....

You're a crazy person.

Yep..lol
Not the first time ive heard that..

I bet it's not. Is it the first time today?

Yep..lol

It won't be the last time today if you keep it up. LoL.

Haha....mmm Golden Corral....

After this text exchange, I'm freaking out the entire drive over to my grandmother's house because this is an entirely new level of insanity and I can't manage this situation. This was weeks ago and it's taken me this long to relive it. That says a lot right there. All I knew for sure when I got home was that my aunt from Arkansas wanted "a combined family dinner". Then he text me and I thought I had the perfect excuse for being unavailable. I had no idea what the hell "combined family" meant, though. I knew where it was happening and when, but not the who of it. I was excited, intrigued, and slightly cautious. Who did "combined family" refer to? Apparently, Freckles was putting himself in that category. And, I couldn't help but wonder if this might be some gesture of my aunt from Arkansas to extend an olive branch to my local aunt. This could be an epic disaster. Why not add Freckles to the mix? A slip of the tongue and I could come out... again... in public... to the few people who don't already secretly know. My grandmother would probably die. First she'd die because of the information and then she'd have to come back to life and die again because everyone else already knew before her and then she'd have to come back to life and die again because of the embarrassment of it all happening in such a public setting. I'd only have to kill one other person to be technically declared a mass murderer after that. Oh, Freckles. He'd die after being exposed as not just the lifelong friend. Mass murderer status achieved even easier than I had imagined. Suddenly, I wanted to ditch the whole thing and actually go see Freckles instead. Maybe it wasn't too late. Fortunately, my sister drove because I was having enough trouble breathing and not jumping out of the moving vehicle. Too many variables were about to be gathered in one location.

It's not that I need to control everything, but I do feel a lot better when that's the case. Or I even feel better as long as someone is in control of everything. No one was going to be in control of anything at this "combined family dinner" and that scared the holy shit out of me. Seriously. This could be a legend in the making, a cautionary tale whispered to children in restaurants all across America to frighten them into acting right in public. We are not a peaceful people and things go horribly wrong - people say crazy, random things - in the heat of battle and passion.

My phone was dying when we got to my grandmother's house. I brought the cord for the charger, but not the rest of it. I could plug it into my sister's car, but the car had to be running for anything to happen. I didn't realize that. I left it plugged in for a few minutes while hanging out with my family on the porch only to return to it to find it that much closer to dead than before. At that point, "combined family" included me, sister, grandmother, aunt uncle & cousins from Arkansas. The local aunt uncle & cousins were not included and would not be. I could actually relax once I realized this. This wasn't the disaster situation I had thought it would be. Also, my phone dying wasn't actually a cause for crisis either. If it died before I could text Freckles back... well. He wouldn't drive an hour to a place we might be having dinner, I don't think. Problem resolved? Possibly. I liked that plan.

It turned out "combined family" also included my uncle's parents. I was thoroughly relieved. Dinner was amazing. I ate... basically everything offered except for salad. After weeks of mainly eating just chicken and rice, I fell off the wagon and ate everything I hadn't been eating. It was amazing and delicious.

Then I saw him. I think I might have actually abandoned the plate I was filling up with food right on the buffet line and followed him to the bathroom. This was going to be awkward and horrible afterall. What the hell was he thinking? I was about to find out.

"What the fuck are you thinking?! Why are you here?! This is insane!"

"Excuse me?! Who are you?!"

"That is so funny. This is so the perfect time and place for that joke. Why do you love to fuck with me so much? I... is that a tribal tattoo? What the hell... When did you get... Your eyes are brown. You're... you're not... Wow. You could be twins or something. Ummmm. Yeah. Shit. Nevermind. Try to forget this moment happened. Totally thought you were someone else. Sorry. Yikes. I..."

I walked into the handicap stall and locked the door. I had wanted to explain or apologize or say something, but... Well, I decided just hiding was the best way to end that situation and keep it from getting steadily worse. That's the best I could do. Also, it turned out I did have to go to the bathroom. So, not a total loss. I just hoped no one was waiting to confront me about the man I just mindfucked in the bathroom when I finally did decide to leave it. I went back to the buffet and tried not to laugh maniacally like the psychotic I obviously am while I made a new plate of food. Maybe I could play this off as some kind of binge-induced insanity. At any rate, I'd probably never see that poor bastard again.

When I returned to the table, I saw him again. He was sitting with his family on the other side of a wall of frosted glass. I decided I should just avert my eyes from that general direction and be incredibly thankful he hadn't reported me to management. I'm not sure I could explain the situation to either them, the police, or my family. I wouldn't even try. I'd just happily surrender to the authorities and take full advantage of my right to remain silent. That's something I should probably try to do more often anyway.

In my desperation to prepare for and counter all the random variables of that evening, I had forgotten all about the most dangerous, reckless variable of all: me. I'm my very own crisis situation waiting to happen.

You're never going to forget me (again).

"I'm calling for Josh Gaw... Um, Gōsnail?"

"It's pronounced Gawznell." Sort of like Go to hell which is probably what I should have said and ended the call. The trouble with driving is I'm so relaxed that I forget to screen my phone calls. It's true. If you ever want to speak to me on the phone, wait until you know I'm driving and then call. It's a reflex I wish I could curb, but I answer every freaking time. "Who is this?"

"My name is Dick Whoreallycares. I'm a district manager for Pizzazaza."

"Oh yeah. I remember you. What do you want?"

"Well, I've been reviewing applications for assistant managers and store managers."

"Still or again?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nevermind. And?"

"Well, yours keeps catching my interest."

"How delightful. Or not really, actually. What happened to you not believing in leaving people hanging?"

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. That's the point. I interviewed with you... what? Two months ago maybe? Three perhaps? I sat not more than two feet in front of you and you looked me right in the eye and said 'I don't believe in leaving people hanging. I'll contact you with my decision either way within a week.' Remember what happened after that? I sure do. Nothing happened after that. You either lied to me - to my face in person, lied to me - or you forgot about me. I'm not sure which is worse. Probably lying to the face of a prospect, but forgetting about one is just as bad in different ways. It's funny because I was quick to return your calls and emails in an incredibly prompt manner. In fact, I was the only one at that time to even respond at all to you. Remember that? Probably not. But you remember my impressive resume? I doubt that. So what happened? The person you chose over me didn't work out and now you're scrambling."

"I'm sorry. I-"

"Save it. Your word is bullshit. Obviously."

"There's no reason to make this personal. I made a simple mistake."

"Personal? If I wanted to make it personal, I'd call you up at random - after promising not to forget/abandon you and then doing so for a few months - and mispronounce your surname. Then I'd re-offer you the job I gave to someone else instead of you now that they haven't worked out after you've probably been unemployed for the duration of this ridiculous timeline. Then I might claim all of that was merely a simple mistake. That's something you could definitely take personally if I ever did it to you. Or... If I really wanted to make an impression and take it to an entirely new level of personal, I might suggest that your dress shirt has buttons on it for a reason and you should probably use all of them and not just the bottom three regardless of whether you're wearing a nasty, crusty wife beater underneath. Small digression: you might want to do laundry more often or at least steer clear of anything white that absorb all stains until you're wearing this obscene collage of spilled food and sweat. Bleach it or wear much darker colors. Those are your choices. Back on point, though, with the need for buttoning up the over shirt: No one needs to see that mess of chest fur squeezing out over the deep cleavage your man tits form. It's really hard to maintain professional composure when you're faced with a sight like that. I keep expecting to see three college students running through that horrifying, tangled forest of chest hair while screaming about how they're so, so scared as they try to film a Blair Witch documentary. Oh, Blair Witch man tits! That reminds me: while interviewing people in one of your fine establishments, you might avoid setting up office in a booth. I barely had room to breathe on my side once your 400 pounds of useless dead weight was accommodated for. You're definitely not the Biggest Loser, but trying to share a booth with you that day made me feel like I might be if I somehow managed to survive. It's really difficult to tackle those tricky interview questions when you've got a table lodged between your ribs and internal organs because the man across from you ate last quarter's profit margin. Speaking of a loss in profit, I fucking hate Pizzazaza. You realize you're fighting a losing battle against the legions of mom and pop pizza joints in this area. They outnumber you 10 to 1. That's just on Market Street - there are literally ten other pizza franchises on East Market and they are all better than you. Each and every one of them makes a superior product at a highly competitive price. You can't compete. They've already won. Had you called me back, I might have taken the job out of panic and desperation. But, luckily, you allowed me the time to come to my senses and realize what a terrible mistake that would have been - especially considering upper management. Yikes. In a way, I should thank you for preventing me from embracing the same miserable fate as you must have so many years ago. How's that working out for you, by the way? Saying any of that would be personal on a seriously epic level. Anyway, I do appreciate the call and continued interest - I guess. That's definitely a one-way street though. So. But, I'm very glad you called so I could help you with that memory problem. At the very least, I'm willing to bet you're never - never, never, never - going to forget me again. Right? Damn right. Goodbye forever, Dick."



Was any of that necessary? Probably not. But, I have a fierce legion of anger monkeys within me and if I don't release them to occasionally throw cacti at cars that cut me off in the parking lot of the store where I just bought said cacti and it was the only thing handy to chuck out the window and make explode across their rear window (true story) or verbally assassinate assholes like that, they'll simply overwhelm me and take total, permanent control of me. Then, there will be no stopping them. So, I let them play now and then which keeps them satisfied and well enough behaved the rest of the time. Despite this unexpected call, I've been fairly calm and collected lately. I'm really happy working at the cheese factory. I had a brief run-in with an asshole there as well, but I stepped up to him, too, and now everything's perfect. Some people need to see your teeth in their flesh before they'll respect you enough not to provoke the same again. Fine. Done. It's all "please", "thank you", and "you're welcome" between us now. It's prison rules. You either punk them or they punk you. Or you punk each other a little and come to this impasse and default to civility. Anyway, love the cheese factory. It's the least stressful job I've had in a very long time. Also, I am making a killing with the mandatory Saturday overtime they keep throwing at us. I don't think I've ever really had the opportunity to work overtime and actually get paid more for doing so. This is much better than having a salary. It's an incredibly easy job, too. I'm glad I did the temping thing at the warehouse first so I could fully appreciate what a good deal this new job is. I'm also glad I have a job so I can turn down terrible job offers like the one addressed earlier in this post. I did have to turn down an equally appealing job to the cheese factory. There was this vending thing near Pittsburgh, but it's twice the transit and in a week or so I'll be making more money at the cheese factory and working less hours - even with Saturday overtime. I only regret that I don't get to work for the old school Italian with the baseball bat behind his desk that runs the place. That would have been interesting. Anyway, job is good.

I haven't seen Freckles since I told him off and moved back home except for one day when he came over to collect on the money I owed him for the tennis shoes he bought me and he showed me his new underwear. We're sort of alright again, maybe. I don't know. Like I said, haven't seen him lately. He did ask about how he could get a job at the cheese factory with me while he was still unemployed and having no luck with finding anything. "Welcome to 2011 of my life." I told him the link I had bookmarked for the job posting was no longer good and that they must not be looking for any more help. Which, is just as well, because he got another job a few days later anyway and one he wanted more as well. So, let's not focus on whether what I said was really a lie or just fate speaking through me and allowing him to find his own path. Somewhere else. Somewhere I'm not. We'll just be happy for him instead of analyzing everything. And me, too. Definitely be happy for me.

Whatever else you do, don't forget me.

So much for anonymity...

My cheese factory training was officially over as of yesterday afternoon. In actuality, it was over last week. My trainer hasn't shown me anything new or taught me anything since then. Yesterday he realized this and made it official. He wasn't sure what the powers that be were planning on doing with me since he informed them of this, so I'll continue to work mornings on the same line until they decide and inform me of what the next step is. They can keep me on that line for as long as they want. I know what I'm doing on it, I enjoy it, and I don't really want to start over learning a new line with new people any time soon. Anyway, so there's that. It's not a difficult job. It's not stressful. I enjoy it. Hopefully, I'll be getting more money for doing it soon. Everything is good. I even like working morning shift for the first time in history, even though I have to wake up at 5am to get ready for work. It's nice coming home while the sun is still up and things are still open in case I need to run some errands.

Paid my monthly bills yesterday afternoon before I passed out. Working over time made it possible for me to do this and still have some money left over. It wasn't enough to also pay my income taxes, but those will be taken care of next week. Not a big deal. Unemployment benefits are lovely when you need them, but not so favorable to your income tax return when they form the entirety of your income for half a year - and the majority of your income for the whole year even after you stop being able to claim them.

Blogger/blogspot has merged with Google+. I'm a little freaked out by the loss of my anonymity. Notice now that every post is copyrighted by me. I do not like that. I haven't posted as me since MySpace was the primary social network and EVERYONE was on it. It's hard to believe such a time ever was.

"I want paint to work as flesh." ~Lucian Freud

That seems obvious enough quoted from an artist who specializes in painting nudes. I was going to share some examples of his work, but they're mostly all naked people and I'm not exactly in the company of people who would appreciate accidentally glimpsing any of that as I work it into the post. Even if it is art, it's not their taste at all.

Speaking of painters (but of an entirely different variety), the house painters are dancing on my every last damn frayed fucking nerve. Yes, this is the company I am in and of which I speak. It is week two of house painting. They have completed four out of six rooms. These are not huge rooms, apart from the living room maybe. Yet, it takes them two days to complete one room. I realize they have to do multiple coats and everything, but... it took half a day for them to paint the freaking bathroom. I say they and them, because there are two of them. Between the two of them, they might just paint with the efficiency and urgency of a single person. Usually, it's easy to ignore them. I'm in the basement doing my thing online - whatever that happens to be - and they're upstairs somewhere watching the paint they just applied dry or something. I don't know. Maybe there's a lot more to painting interiors than I realize and I shouldn't be so critical. Or, maybe not. I'm thinking definitely not, but who knows? I don't. Anyway, yesterday and today it has been completely impossible to escape them because they're painting the kitchen, hallway, and the stairway leading down into the basement. Yesterday, I had places to be and they were gone when I came home. Today, I don't have anywhere to be. I did leave for two hours anyway. I spent a significant portion of that time smoking in a parking lot at a nearby strip mall. Did I mention that the house painters are the brother and nephew of my sister's grandfather? Probably not. I have no freaking clue how that blood relationship translates to my sister. I don't have that type of vocabulary. Let's try it anyway: one is my sister's granduncle and the other is her grandcousin or maybe cousin-uncle? I don't know. Whatever. They're related to her and - perhaps more importantly - to her grandparents and father. So, I can't smoke while they're here because it would be even worse than smoking in front of our shared grandparents. Which is why I've been standing around in parking lots smoking lately. The house painters are here from about 9am to about 3pm. That's a ridiculous amount of time to not be smoking at least once or twice. Also, they like to chat. It was obvious that at least the granduncle was the brother of my sister's grandfather by how much he likes to talk. About everything. At 9am. I don't want to talk about anything at 9am. I was as tolerable about it as possible. I can be really polite regardless of whether I want to be or not if the situation requires it. And, it did. I just try to avoid them now. I think he tried to talk to me again just now but I've got my headphones on, music blaring, and I'm completely focused on typing out this post. I saw shadows moving in my peripherals, though. I'm fairly certain that was him and that he was probably talking to me about something. If it were important at all, he probably would have moved into my direct line of sight on the other side of my laptop. So... every last damn frayed fucking nerve. Seriously. As least tomorrow I'll have orientation for the new job, so I won't have to deal with it. But, there's still today and the four hours or so of painting fun that remain.

I'd like to add "...and then I want that flesh to ball up into a fist and punch you in the face." to the title quote.

Damned Scorpios

So... about a week after my last post I was terminated from the temp job at the factory. I'm not an idiot. There were warning signs. When I first started temping in the warehouse and I was sent to one of the other two buildings for various reasons, the employee parking lots were nearly full. Which is rather amazing for night shift. Anywhere, it would be amazing. By that week when I finally transferred over to start working in production, there were barely any vehicles in any of the parking lots. Also, corporate was going to visit the location. That's the entire reason I had a temp job there in the first place. My job was preparing the warehouse (and occasionally the other buildings as well) for this visit. Which is fine, but I know from experience it's NEVER a good thing to have people from corporate show up anywhere. No good ever comes from it. And it certainly didn't this time, either. The corporate representatives were impressed by how great all three buildings of the facility looked for their visit, but they had already decided to and were still going to downsize the location. Temps were first to go. My friend was fired about a week later.

Like I said, I'm not an idiot. There were warning signs. The week I was fired, I had an interview for a job in Pennsylvania. Same commute time, more money out of training. I'm still actually waiting to hear back from that. I also contacted another temp agency and applied for several positions with them. I had checked my current temp agency's website for available positions and tried to apply to them, but was told I couldn't while working on a contract. I had to wait to be fired and by then the job I wanted was no longer available. They are supposedly going to call me when something else becomes available. Too late. I've already accepted a job from the new temp agency. There were hundreds of available listings on this new temp agency's site. There was only one on the first temp agency's site and it wasn't something I can do. I'm not a certified whateverthehell. I honestly don't remember. Who cares anyway?

My new temp job for the new temp agency begins on Wednesday. It is for a cheese factory. That'll stop being funny... never. I laugh every time I say it. Anyway... The job starts out just a few cents less than I was making at the previous temp job, but I get a $4/hr. increase after my first 30 days. Then, there are quarterly raises and a pay cap at double the starting wage. Yes, I'm very, very, very excited about all of this. Also, it's much closer than either the previous temp job or the job in Pennsylvania. Plus, it's obviously a much better rate of pay than either would ever provide. I'm not entirely sure what I'll be doing other than lifting bricks of cheese weighing 50 pounds repeatedly for several hours a day. This is also very exciting for me because I've lost 30 pounds now since the last week of January. Let me repeat:

I've lost 30 pounds.

I'm really happy about that. Anyway, I'd like to continue making progress on that effort. I've done about everything I can do diet-wise. I've completely changed my entire diet. I cheat sometimes, obviously. I'm not a robot. But, it's very healthy compared to what it used to be. I definitely need to workout in order to fully capitalize on my weight loss efforts. If I can do that and get paid for doing so... Win-win. Also, I like doing physically demanding work now. I know, how bizarre. But, it's true. Loading shipping containers by hand was my favorite part of my warehouse temping job. It made the time fly by and I usually lost a few pounds whenever I did it. It even became a lot easier each time I did it. It was good. So, I'm very excited about my new job and the potential extra benefits.

Which reminds me: the uniform. I'll be wearing a hairnet, beardnet, and a lab coat. There's no actual dresscode other than I'm not permitted to wear shorts or capris. Since the facility is kept at a constant temperature of about 55 degrees, that's not going to be a problem for me to adhere to that policy. I don't imagine that's ever been an issue for any of the employees, but.. then again... I will be issued a locker for my personal belongings and I was instructed to purchase a combination lock for it. I'm not allowed to have anything in my pockets, not even a key to my locker lock, so it has to be a combination lock. I purchased this one this afternoon on my way home from my interview/hire-in. No problem. My shoes also have to be slip resistant, so I'll be wearing my work boots until I decide to buy more comfortable work shoes. Unless they have an issue with the dried paint on them from the previous temp job, then I'll be buying a new pair of comfortable slip resistant shoes immediately.

I tried online dating for about a week during all of this. Very disappointing experience. There are a lot of old perverts in this area. Seriously, it was horrible. Also, there are a lot of married "straight" guys who want to take a little detour into Fagtown. No, Homoville. Queerapolis? Whatever. I met one seemingly normal guy and had an instant, amazing connection which lasted all of but a day when we realized we were simply not compatible. I'm not going to explain that. Well, maybe I will. I'll be vague. I'm exceptionally good at that. You need an X and a Y for a sexual relationship, but we're both X or we're both Y. It all depends on how I'm working that metaphor. So, we could have a great relationship only as long as we never planned on having sex with each other. Really shitty. Oh, and for the record, I'm actually X AND Y - but, my partner needs to be as well in order for me to be satisfied. Or, it doesn't last long. Anyway... I deleted my account. I'm over it. I should have known we were headed for some terrible mishap since he was a Scorpio. Every guy I've ever been with has been a freaking Scorpio and it's all been disastrous. In the beginning, it's amazing. It's really amazing. Then, their emotional intensity gets to be a little overwhelming - not to mention the possessiveness. But, in the beginning, it's amazing. I should know better and I totally do, but that's been my type forever. I really need to change that. Fucking Scorpios. At least I'm over the whole "straight" guy fixation. That's probably another reason it always ends in disaster, except for this most recent time. I just can't help it. I recruit for my team. It's much easier than you'd think. Kind of scary how easy, actually. Anyway... I'm going to be single for now and work on working and getting my life in order.

As far as that goes, everything seems to be on track right now. Things are definitely getting very exciting. I'm probably even happy. Well, not right now, since that thing with the Scorpio just happened last night. But, I would be if I wasn't moody and disappointed about that. Definitely.

One more thing, I might actually be considering getting a tattoo. I have to blame my recent discovery of pinterest on this. Basically, pinterest.com is a site where you can find all these images of whatever and pin the ones you like to thematic virtual pinboards for easy sorting and reference. You can even post directly to twitter, like on facebook, embed in a blog, or email the image/video clip. You can comment on pins, add descriptions, follow your friends as they pin things. It's basically a visual show and tell social app. It's somewhat addicting, actually. I have like 200 things pinned and I started two days ago. Anyway, I saw these tattoo ideas on pinterest and decided I liked them enough to consider maybe getting them put on my body somewhere.

This one is fairly straight forward. It's a bleeding heart in black ink. I blame my dealings with the Scorpio for this one as well. Both of these, actually. Anyway, still like both.



The next one is very interesting. It's a white ink tattoo which is almost like having a secret tattoo. You'd have to know to look for it to even see it. It looks almost like a brand or scar, actually. I think it's very unique and interesting and cool.



I'd like to manage to combine these two ideas somehow. Who knows if I'll ever actually get a tattoo, let alone this one, but it's a thought for now. I'm definitely thinking about it. I'm seriously thinking about it, even.

Oh, one last thing: I found this incredible French couple making amazing music videos on YouTube. They are disturbingly entertaining or entertainingly disturbing. One video even had mimes. MIMES! Anyway, this is one of my favorites. Enjoy. Oh, this isn't the one with the mimes. I realize not everyone likes mimes.



Alice, Marc, and the Noband from Paris, France.

Update

So much to review. Too much, almost. It's slightly overwhelming to think about, so I'm just going to dive in and hopefully get it all covered in a random, hectic fashion.

I'm baking chicken right now. If you know me at all, this should be a total shock and surprise. Anyway, I've got about half an hour before I need to think about prepping the sides. I'm also going to make some rice and maybe stir fry vegetables or perhaps just peppers like last time I made chicken - a week ago and again a few days ago, but I used the George Foreman for the chicken the first time and I fried it on the stove the second time. I also have some Tilapia I need to start cooking and eating here soon, but I need to Google how to make it since I never have and I'd rather not just guess while cooking any type of meat. Oh, and everything is fine, by the way. Usually I start cooking like a mad man when I'm dealing with some particularly troubling mess or personal crisis. I'm just cooking this time - no pretense.

I moved back home a few weeks ago as well. I had quite enough of the whole domestic partnership experiment. Here's a tip and you probably already know better, (but I'm stubborn and foolish and will never take any advice that I haven't personally tried to disprove first) but NEVER live with and work with anyone. Not if you want all parties involved to survive, anyway. It should be obvious enough, but again... I can't be told anything until I'm ready to hear it, not even from myself. So, whatever, that mess is over and we barely managed to salvage a relationship of any kind toward the end of it. It got really nasty. I'm not going to rehash, but... It was ridiculous.

Nurse Egg provided the down payment and is the primary on a second vehicle for me to use and make the payments on. I'm waiting on offers for parting out the Jeep. It's done. There's no saving it anymore. It's fine though. I love my new car. I haven't had a car for a decade. It's been all SUVs and trucks - stick shift even. Now I'm zipping around in this little automatic car. It's like driving a go-cart or something.

Work is fine. The temp job at a warehouse that was only originally meant to be 1-2 weeks became 4 and then 5 and now 6. It was meant to end, but I'm going to start working in another building next week at the same company. I'll be in production, actually making things or maybe just boxing them up to send them over to the warehouse. I don't know. We'll see, I suppose. I was supposed to make that transition a week ago but my boss kept postponing it to keep me with him in the warehouse. Because I'm awesome, obviously.

Lost 20 pounds since starting that job by not really doing anything different except working for a living. That's an awesome bonus. It probably would have been a larger loss if I wasn't always painting everything all the time. You don't burn a lot of calories painting. Oh well. I definitely need to wear a belt now.

Grandpa is back in the hospital. Situation is much worse than it was back in January. Nurse Egg was the family relay this time around which is just as well since this is more here area of expertise than it ever was or will be mine. Taking a break from my usual role of family herald/diplomat was rather odd but nice. Anyway, I'm sure if you know anything about the situation you already know as much or more than I do about it. Again, this isn't really my area of expertise, so I won't bother with any of the details.

We're moved into the house. So long, condo. It was... very Stepford. We live on a tiny dead end street now. There's about nine houses on our street. It's very quiet. There's a police officer with police dogs two houses over on one side with a sweet, little old couple living between us and him. On the other side is a large Latino family in an ugly ass orange house and someone else on the other side of them. I don't know anything about that house other than an old lady used to live there and she was a hoarder. But, someone else lives there now. I only know something about one of the houses on the other side of the street. Directly across from us is a deaf man. He left us a note in our mailbox introducing himself, explaining his condition, and informing us as to when to put our garbage and recycling cans out. There is one strange thing about this quiet little dead end community: every single house on our street has a basketball hoop - even the frail old couple have one - except for us. Our driveway is the only driveway on the entire street that doesn't have a basketball hoop in it. I'm not sure why, but it's perplexing and disappointing. I wonder if they're all secretly hoping we'll install one so we can form a full team or something. I wonder if they're going to hold it against us and judge us harshly when we never do. In any case, I might get some pictures up shortly or I may wait until all the rooms are finished being painted next week.

It's a paycheck.

Work is fine. I've been temping for two weeks and every single day is completely different. I work in a warehouse which is a totally new environment for me. Well, I guess not. I've been on the other side of the loading dock doors during my trucking experiment. But, still, it's definitely not anywhere I'd ever imagine myself. The job itself is incredibly physical. Most mornings, I get home and pass right out. After a shower, though, because I sweat all night long. I've lost five pounds so far just by working five days a week. It isn't horrible, though. There are moments when I wish I could be doing anything else, but then they're over and I feel like I've actually accomplished something - whether I actually have or not. It's interesting, I guess. I'd never actively pursue a job doing any type of physical labor unless it was an act of desperation - like this absolutely was - but I will definitely appreciate my next job that much more having done this for awhile.

My favorite part of the job is getting a weekly paycheck. That's incredibly nice for someone trying to dig themselves out of a deep financial pit. Which I'm doing, slowly. I think. Anyway, I've only received one paycheck so far, but it's a start. My least favorite part of the job is being temporary. Either my temp agency or the company I'm working at can decide at any time to terminate my assignment and I'll get reassigned somewhere else or have to wait for something to become available. Also, I don't like that part of what would be my starting wage if I got hired in is going to the temp agency for alleged services rendered. I get it. It's business. But... I want my money. I worked for it. You basically just checked your secret little employment files and matched me with the first shit job listed. I don't think that grants you $2/hr. of what should be my wage. Yeah, I'm greedy, but it's still mine. Or it should be, anyway.

No idea what I'm doing about the Jeep at this point. The estimate is $6k. So... That's not happening. I'll probably have to look into getting another vehicle at some point very soon. In the meantime, I enjoy carpooling with Freckles and even staying with him throughout the week. The craziest part of my life is I actually think this is normal behavior and a rational lifestyle. That's insane. Which makes me sane because I wouldn't realize that if I were actually crazy, but... I'm still demented for thinking it in the first place and believing it, despite knowing how crazy it is. I don't know. You figure that out. I don't want to anymore. It's exhausting.

My life is strange and hectic right now. It keeps me too busy to really think about things or deconstruct them and analyze. It's nice. I simply focus on the day and task at hand. I finish that and move on to the next. It's a simple process of just going through the motions until I get somewhere a little better or at least get back on my feet. It seems to be working, so I'll have to keep at it.

May the bridges I burn light the way home.

Obnoxious. Condescending. Trying too hard to be funny and failing. Abrasive. Of course, he's family. He's my uncle. The exile, to be specific. The prodigal son returned.

At least we have that much in common. Well, not really.

I don't usually make it a point to circle back on burnt bridges. There's a reason I set them aflame in the first place, just as there's a reason no one stopped me.

I'm really not trying to be an asshole. I don't think he is either. It doesn't really matter. Our intentions don't dictate the interpretation of our actions.



My uncle from Georgia is here for the week and the subject of this post. My aunt from Arkansas is also here for the week. We're only missing mom. Who's surprised? That's rhetorical and this is redundant. It wouldn't be a family event if someone wasn't genuinely annoying and agitating the holy shit out of everyone. Amazingly, the locals have vacated this position and remained scarce to the point of total absence for the duration of the visitors' stay. The reason for everyone being here during a non-holiday and completely out of season for a summer visit is to support my grandmother during her transitional phase now that my grandfather has been placed in a home. This was the result of some unknown event between my grandmother and my local aunt which caused a serious rift between them and ultimately resulted in my grandmother no longer having their assistance with the care of my grandfather. My local aunt had migrated her entire family between her own home and the home of my grandparents in order to assist with my aging grandfather and his care. She was gradually moving into my grandparents' home with plans to sell off her own. But, some tragic life-altering event caused an end to the cooperative symbiosis between my local aunt's family and my grandmother. This anomaly even caused my local aunt to abandon all plans to inhabit my grandparent's house full-time and proceed immediately to vacate her family and all accumulated possessions from the property. What could this unknown event possibly have been? I haven't a clue, but it must have been something catastrophic to prompt such life-altering deviations from the grand plan of my local aunt and her family. Anyway, since that event and the parting of ways, they haven't made an appearance except at the nursing home for a brief initial visit to see my grandfather situated and placed. Since their absence has left no one to instigate and provoke the rest of the family during their visits, my once-exiled uncle decided to stand-in and fulfill the duties of that traditional role. He's doing a decent enough job of it, too.



This is an incredibly awkward situation for the entire family. It's not at all surprising that we're rubbing each other the wrong way trying to all find a place to squeeze into this picture and just move with it as it develops and/or deteriorates. I think my uncle is attempting to lighten the mood by trying to maintain this atmosphere of levity. Unfortunately, like me, he's only familiar with dry, sarcastic, often pessimistic humor. Obviously, I have a natural affinity for it. My humor - forged from the fires of my intrinsic bitterness and rage - is flawlessly executed. It's my default, natural defense mechanism, afterall. I've had decades of practice and have developed a level of skill when it comes to quips and banter that can not be rivaled by any mere man. Watching my uncle in action is like going to an amateur night of stand-up. Both should require at least a two drink minimum before indulging. I believe a lot of his failure is conditional of his attitude and motives. He's just a downer. I'm a realist, but I at least attempt to defuse and rectify the situation by dissecting it and throwing it back in everyone's face. Yes, things may truly suck and they often do. But, there's always hope. At least, there ought to be some. I'm not sure what anyone could hope in this exact situation we find ourselves in other than trying to do some major damage control and maintain some semblance of the status quo. The last thing I would want - in this situation or any other similar to it - is to make matters even worse by alienating everyone around me, like my uncle seems increasingly determined to do. Besides, there are much more satisfying ways to alienate people. I'm fairly skilled in that department as well.

Cocktails, anyone?



Before I completely gloss over it and forget, I should mention that my asshole friend's grandfather passed away last weekend. It's a strange coincidence that both of our grandfathers were in the same hospital at the exact same time. It's possible they were even on the same floor or even room. I doubt it, but it's possible. The funeral was Wednesday, which is the same day my grandfather was transferred from the hospital to the nursing home. There's another strange coincidence for you.

American dream (insomnia remix)

So much for sleeping. It's nearly 0500. I just slept a little over two hours. First a video to get us started. Actually more like a song with a picture that doesn't change at all. The other videos are actual videos, if that's any consolation. Enjoy.



I've decided I need to write. Not just a blog, either. Which brings us to my constant problem - about what? Well, me, naturally. That's easy enough. As much as I'd love to do something entirely fictional, it's simply not going to happen - it might, later, but only once I've purged some things and made a complete spectacle of myself in print. This has been blatantly obvious to me for some time, hence my hesitation. But, it must be done if I'm ever going to get my shit together and make something happen as far as legitimate writing goes. So, I've spent the last half an hour of restless sleeplessness trying to figure out what period of my life I should draw from. I've decided on Nevada. Wyoming is still a little overwhelming for me, but I'm sure it'll be addressed in a prequel. I can definitely isolate and get lost in the Nevada era without having to cover Wyoming or Ohio first. I could probably do the same with Alaska, but that might be better suited as a closer to the trilogy or bridge to the later installations if I decide to continue forward. I'm thinking probably not. A trilogy is pushing it already. In any case, I've decided on my time period. It's definitely one of the most turbulent and chaotic chapters of me. It was also one of the more enjoyable. It was absolutely one of the few places as crazy - if not slightly crazier - than me. Speaking of crazy... here's another Sky Ferreira music video interlude featuring Michael Madsen. Yeah, I know: crazy.



I'm tired, but restless. That's a perfect metaphor for my entire life. I'm too angsty to sleep and too tired to be any use at doing any actual work on this project, so it's aimlessly wandering the internet and letting my mind spin wildly out of control. I'm taking notes whenever it ventures somewhere interesting and useful. Hopefully, those notes aren't complete insomniac gibberish. I'll keep you posted of any progress. This definitely seems like something that I have to get out of my system to be able to do anything worthwhile. I think I could write an entire manuscript of only my humorous mishaps with animals and appliances, but it'll be much easier to market once I crank out a library of auto-biographies. I always knew it would happen this way. I've just been seriously fighting it. In the meantime, I'm trying to wrap my head around being seventeen again. Hmmmmm. One last music video? Certainly.



Fun fact: my friend Tommy (featured via comments relayed from facebook in my recent post, Trying too hard.) is from Nevada. Still lives there, actually. Maybe I'll enlist his help in recreating that landscape.

Desperate Guys

January is National Drag History Month according to various online sources. I had no idea. Let me clarify: I had no idea there was such a thing, let alone it was this very month. This isn't the subject of my post, but I thought it was interesting and somewhat coincidental in context of what I am actually about to talk about.

Yesterday I had a job interview which was the result of a few traded emails between myself and the district manager of a local restaurant chain for the position of assistant general manager (rather than assistant to the general manager, ha.). Anyway, in preparation for this interview I decided to shave off my beard. A decision I immediately regretted and still do. My face feels completely naked. It's incredibly cold, too, being January and I can feel every lost degree on my bare face. It's horrible. Back to my original point: I'm very serious about snagging this job so I'm doing everything possible to ensure I get it - even shaving. After I shaved, I decided I also needed a haircut before the interview. It was impossible to get an appointment anywhere on zero notice and within the time constraints I was working with, so I drove around town until I found a shithole-in-the-wall salon that was practically empty except for a lone stylist and two blue-hairs having their hair color treated. The stylist could get me done and out within half an hour which was perfect for my time frame, so I took a seat and waited. It was a delightful show watching the two lifelong friends having their hair done and trading gossip with the stylist.



When it was my turn, she did the whole hair washing while chatting me up bit. She asked me what I wanted done and I told her something more professional and less like a homeless burn-out. I told her I had a job interview. I even told her where and for what. We chatted about how competitive the job market has become and how limited opportunities were within it. Then she asked me when I graduated. Naturally, I assumed she meant college and I lied "last year". I was even deciding in my head what my major was, but then she asked if I was thinking about going to college. It was shocking to realize this woman thought I had graduated high school last year.

Suddenly getting carded for cigarettes right before all this doesn't seem so random. First time in ten years... I should have known something was off.

I stumbled on my words after that. "Sure, I'm thinking about going to college. This employer has an excellent tuition reimbursement program." She asked which program I might pursue. I can't even tell you which one I might have said. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the whole facial age reversal thing. Which is probably why I agreed when she suggested my eyebrows needed a quick trim as well. I think she snuck that question in there between "Would you like your neckline boxed off?" and "Would you like to keep the sideburns?" so that I wouldn't notice. Not that I was actually paying attention. I just kept agreeing to everything. I've never had my eyebrows shaped or trimmed or whatever. When it happened, my entire body tensed up. It might have been something to do with the electric trimmers being so close to my eye. Also, it felt weird.



After the entire process, I quickly paid and took off. I had to race back across town to get dressed for success before racing off to the interview. I kept hoping I wouldn't show up to it looking like a teenage drag queen. Unless, of course, that's what this guy was looking for in a potential applicant. Whatever works. I don't care. I'm not sure anything did, though. The district manager had zero facial expressions which made it virtually impossible to read him. He had the ultimate poker face and no observable personality. It was like being interrogated by a robot. Not fabulous. Not encouraging. Not really anything. In any case, I'll know one way or the other in a couple of weeks. He intends to interview 16 other candidates in that time. He didn't leave me completely in the dark. He offered one pro and one con about me as a potential applicant. Pro: No one else he has tried to contact has even responded yet, let alone scheduled and completed an interview. I told him that no one wants the job more than me. No one else is as hungry or determined as I am for it. Con: I don't have actual restaurant management experience. I have experience in management, food service, and management in food service - but that doesn't translate into restaurant management experience for him. He didn't consider any of my former employers to be restaurants. Which is fine, because neither do I. However, I don't consider any of his establishments to be restaurants either. Not really, if we're being honest. I didn't tell him that, though. Anyway, I guess we'll see. I don't feel any more or less hopeful than I did before the interview. I just feel completely ridiculous and desperate.



Well, my darlings, there's only one thing you should take away from this (other than the fact that January is National Drag History Month): I'll be 30 in May and apparently only look half my age with a clean-shaven face. Try not to choke too hard on your envy while I draw some eyebrows back on my childlike face. Love you. Kisses. xoxo