I love being drunk. I just want an excuse to walk around and say all the shit I never get to! I love being the fun guy who does crazy shit to get a laugh! I like making out with random people, guy or girl. I like to sing karaoke and finally feel okay about my voice! I love that I get my British accent back when I’m three sheets to the wind. It makes all the girls go nuts! (Tee hee, girls and nuts in the same sentence… weird.) Oh, I guess I like the taste?
So I was just in the Circle K getting my daily fix of Peace Tea’s Razzleberry Tea (AMAZING!) when I saw a familiar person walk up to the door I was about to exit through. It was my ex boyfriend Tim. The first thing I thought of was, “Damn, you still here?” The second thing I thought of was “I’m still cuter than him.” I hadn’t seen him like two years. It’s almost depressing to think that people can’t seem to get away from Tucson. I managed to leave Tucson for three years, but that’s only because my boyfriend at the time had a nice job out of state and I followed him. When we broke up, I had to move back here. I haven’t been able to get out since. I know people who have left only to turn right back around and move back. Tucson is the Nexus of Suck. I hate it.
Anyway… yeah. fun time in ex land. Almost makes me glad I’m chronically single with no hope of recovery.
Thank fucking God. I am so tired. I just want to lie in bed for days! I finished Week Four of Summer Camp essentially and next week I don’t have any projects. (I was liberated from helping out with a project.) I want to go on a vacation, take some time for me. Originally my boss said that everyone had to be there every week, but some people have managed to squeak out for weddings and other such nonsense. I think it’s only fair that I should get to have some time off this summer. I think I’ve discovered five new grey hairs… or is that the dog hair?
I suppose I should stop bitching. In three months I won’t have a job and then what will happen?
I used to be a morning person, but now I’m finding that I hate mornings with extreme prejudice. I don’t know how I’m going to make it in the real world if I hate getting up at 6 am every morning. I used to take morning classes because I wanted to get them over with and then I could enjoy the rest of the day. That factor is mattering less and less. Fuck that. I’m going back to bed.
I really hate Tucson Time!!! Nothing ever starts when it’s supposed to. I, being punctual asshole that I am, am always waiting 30-45 minutes for people, events, sleep. Now I know why old people are so impatient- they could drop dead before whatever they’re waiting for happens.
Anyway, I walked down to the Rialto to partake in gay dancing only to find that the doors were locked. What the hell, right? So I check the flyer and it says it starts at 9:00pm. At 9:15 it’s locked. I know life happens while you’re making plans. Maybe something went wrong, but couldn’t just try?
It’s probably open now, but being the first one there is always boring and awkward. Maybe that’s why people are always late to parties.
Inspired by the film Splice where two scientists join together DNA from different animals, this breakfast pizza splices together two different meals into one. Breakfast and Dinner or “Brinner” as I like to call it, have never seen such a combination. You may be wondering if the combination is just another scientific catastrophe, but let me tell you it is a surprising success. The only way you’ll believe me is to try for yourself.
Hungry and irritated is not a good thing to be. I had plans to have lunch with a friend of mine this afternoon, but we had to reschedule because she wanted to invite a friend of hers I can’t stand. I just didn’t have the energy to pretend to be nice so I opted for dinner instead. It’s 8:00 and she hasn’t called and I don’t think she’s going to. So I’m eating a TV dinner instead before I head down to the Rialto for Queerplosion!
So, I took a half day from work and I’m all excited to work on this novel idea that has been swimming in my head for weeks. I always complain that I don’t have enough time to work on it. But when I do, what do I do? Sleep. Good job, man.
I just ate a half a pint of white chocolate raspberry truffle Haagen Daz. And now I’m going to bed. I always have weird dreams if I eat ice cream before going to bed. I wonder what it will be this time. Sometimes I do it on purpose just to have a good time.
I have no idea how to reply to your post so just replying through "ask" :)
but yea, I figured thats not the kind of thing to text someone =//
but damn, I don't know if I can tell her to her face.. or maybe I can, just not now. grrr.
Everything in it’s time. You’ll know. I’m facing the same thing with my father… he knows, but we won’t talk about it.
So I legally changed name yesterday to the name I’ve telling people for five years. It’s weird not having to explain why I use this name instead of the one I was given. Now I just have to explain why I changed it in the first place. It’s about to get deep.
I was named after my father and grandfather. Dad and I never really got along when I was a kid. So I was dead set on leaving his name behind when I turned 18. Well I was too poor to change it and just forgot about it. I had assumed other names throughout my life but none of them stuck for too long. My friends like to joke that I change my name as often as I change undergear. Up until a few months ago I didn’t wear any, so that saying never made that much sense to me.
My father and I started talking again on Christmas of 2007. We built up our relationship on the basis that we are both adults, we don’t talk about the past, and we certainly don’t talk about my homosexuality.
I met with him today and I half considered telling him that I changed my name yesterday; I thought better of it. Ever since we started talking, he never once has called me by my name… Any of them. He has taken to calling me Number 1 Son.
My name is finally who I am. If my father can’t talk about my homosexuality and he can’t call me by my name, then I fear he will die without ever knowing me.
So, as you may or may not know, I work with a group of kids doing relatively fun community service projects throughout the year. Granted, it’s not all fun and games, it’s not that hard. This week has been the week of hell for me. I can’t even remember what happened last week this week has been so bad.
I get these little group home kids with behavioural problems and they tear up my program. I had this one girl who refused to do anything I told her just because I said so. Her excuse was that she didn’t know how to do it. I asked her to walk a dog around a lake. “I don’t know how!” “I don’t want to!” So I kicked her out of my program. She didn’t want to be there, I don’t want her there. It was a spot wasted because I had kids on my waiting list dying to be in her place.
Today, I had a kid cut himself with a pair of scissors… just for fun! He bled and didn’t say anything about it. I just happened to accidentally see it. I kicked him and his buddy out because they were commenting on how gay I was. (Which is a topic for another post.) I will not suffer antigay anything lightly. Turns out that they were hopped up on pills before they arrived. Fun.
And the group home supervisors aren’t any better. They just drop random kids off in my programs and then run away. We are NOT a babysitting agency. And pick your kids up on time!
The supervisors came and I told them that much… I vented and I feel better.
It’s just sad to know that I drive people to cut themselves. They could at least have the decency to do it at home.
I can’t seem to shake this feeling that I’m a complete loser… Why is this? In other news, I met a nice man who I enjoyed talking to at a party tonight. My stomach hates me for drinking too much. I crave a cheeseburger. I weight 210 lbs. I don’t completely hate Britney Spears… am I a bad person?
I am always surprised at how off track my life has become when I get smacked in the face with reality. It’s no secret that I am a consumer whore. I’m on constant lookout for shiny DVDs and stuffed animals. Things like student loans are never on the forefront of my mind. It’s always “when am I going to go out with my friends?”, or “what movie am I going to see?”… Never, “I should really save my money if I am dead serious about moving back to California.”
My mom gave me a lecture about my “fantasy boy” stage of life having to end and responsibility should take over. I shouldn’t be buying every shiny stuffed animal I see. I shouldn’t be buying DVDs because they make me happy. I’m 28 years old and I should be able to live responsibly. I should be capable of paying the only expense I have. With the delinquent payment notice in her hand, she reminded that I’m screwing up her credit as well as mine. Instantly, I remember where I’m supposed to be in my life, who I’m supposed to be, how I’m suppose to behave as an almost 30 year old, and I saw just how far behind I am.
Now I’m depressed as fuck and wonder why I’ve been allowed to live so long like this. Well, that’s no fun. So I suppose I should get up and do something about it.
I’m a little irritated by the fact that I tend to bounce back and forth between “Life is beautiful all the time…” and “I have two wrists that I could slit today…” I used to spend several days in each one, but now it seems to be a different camp everyday. Is this what normal people feel like, or is this Bipolar Express?
I know this entry is an overshare, but seeing as how only three people read this, why not? Last night I had another prelude to sex dream. I use the word prelude because the sex never happens! I’m in bed (with two guys this time) and things are about to get heavy and then… someone gets a headache, or has a life altering revelation about their life… In one case, the guy suddenly remembered that he had to go wash some dishes. It’s sad enough that I can’t get laid in real life, but even in my dreams I’m denied. I’m going to die alone.
They say that celebrities always die in threes! First it was Gary Coleman, then Dennis Hopper, and now Rue McClanahan up and dies on us! Sigh… to quote someone on facebook, “The world is a little less Golden without you.” How true that is. We better make preparations to make sure that Betty White lives forever, that is if Cher, Dick Clark, and Joan Rivers haven’t used up all of the preservatives.