The strange collection of friends I have had...

Once, a long time ago, I was a good person.  i used to care about people and i was genuinely interested in helping people.  I would sit on the phone for hours listening to people go on about how shitty things seemed for them and try to console them.  I would stay up for hours with people if they cam to me with problems and just wanted someone to be there for them.  I would lend money and offer things to people who were having a rough time if they needed it and I could afford it.  Hell, some times I couldn't afford it.  In a nutshell, I was a nice person.

And people walked all over me.  If I needed things, no one offered to do a damn thing for me.  No one listened when I needed someone to talk to.  No one offered to help me when I needed it.  In the end, I would always find myself along and chatting to a plastic spider as my only friend that I could really trust.

I learned a long time ago that I need to be in this for me.  I am no longer a nice person.  I feel no pity for anyone who falls.  I will not stop to help my fellow man.  I have become a self centered individual who will only do for others if I know it will have some personal gain for myself.

But I guess, in the end, isn't this how everyone is?  Aren't we all just looking out for our own.  How many people do you really know who do things just to be kind.  I mean, even many "good Samaritans" are just good to ensure their place in a fictitious heaven they believe is real.  So I guess I'm just like everyone else now.  Perhaps I always was an just didn't realize it.

Eh, who cares... Buy pigface!  They're fun!

All things shit...

So, again I found myself thinking about my upcoming birthday and plans for it this year.  I was thinking of inviting people to join me and buy me my favorite food of all time at some restaurant.  But I'm still not sure just yet...

I thought about this one time I was going to go out for my birthday.  It was an idea put into my head when I was first told that I wasn't going to be able to get my daughter that day.  A friend of mine suggested just going out by myself to a really nice place to have dinner.  So I decided to go to this really ritzy place some people had told me about by myself.  I called and made the reservation for one.

A few days later, I was drinking at a bar that I lived only a half a block away when I got to chatting with the bartender.  Now, I honestly have to say that I really felt little to no interest in her as she was a very different kind of person that I would ever date, but I really liked hanging out with her.  So as we were talking, I asked what she was doing the evening in question.  She informed me that she was off and doing nothing.  So I invited her to join me just for social company.  She accepted.

I was so excited because it looked like I was going to have a nice birthday.  I changed my reservation.  And my ex found out that I was going to dinner that nigh, not alone as I had originally planned, but with some woman she didn't know.  So, jealousy kicked in and she suddenly had things pop up and demanded that I take my daughter over night even though it was not my normal day or night to have her.

Of course, I had no intention of having company for the entire night, just dinner.  But that was obviously not how my ex took it.  So I had my daughter for the night.  I called the woman who I had asked to join me, and she answered the phone and simply said, "Oh, I'm glad you called.  I need to cancel on the dinner..." and so on.  Okay... so I cancelled my reservation at the fancy place since I was sure my 4 year old would definitely not have a good time there.   Instead I decided to go to a steak house since they would have a kids menu that would be like all other chain restaurants.

So, we arrived, were seated quickly, and we ordered, and I waited for my birthday steak.  Now, I am not usually one to buy the most expensive steak on the menu since I am generally a cheep ass, but it was my birthday, right.  I ordered the bacon wrapped nine ounce filet-mignon, done rare to medium rare, with their loaded baked potato.  My steak arrived, deliver by another waiter than the one I had, and I found that my steak was well done to almost extra well.  My daughter got her baked potato and broccoli and was happy to dig in.  I waited for my waiter, or really any one who would walk by.

About ten minutes later, my daughter is done and ready to leave and I still haven't seen my waiter.  I get up and find someone, and was soon attended by my waiter who asked if I would like the steak to be redone.  I explained, rather sharply art this point, that I was no longer interested in sitting there in that restaurant another 20 minutes to wait for another steak, especially since my daughter had already been finished for several minute and there is nothing of patience in a child of that young age.  I ate my potato, had one bite of the most expensive over done steak on their menu, and the took off my daughters food.  It was the only time that I honestly left not a penny for a tip, and I have never gone back to that place.

Of course, the steakhouse in question closed down a year later at the economy started to suck.  I felt no remorse.

And after all that shit, do I really wish to try to have a birthday ever again?

Welcome to my ugh...

I've been thinking about writing music again.  I was thinking about just doing a cover band, doing industrial covers of random songs.  I think I just really want to do Moody Blues and Cure songs.  It would be fun.

Eh, who knows.  I have so much other shit going on at any given time that it almost seems ridiculous to try to do anything else right now.

On the other side of things, I was thinking about the days of being a cook part time.  I used to cook food for these big feasts, and I would carry down these huge pieces of meat to cut up to serve.  I would put on a kilt, worn properly, and carry about 50 pounds of cooked meat on a 10 pound platter to the awe of the feasters.

I've got a few good memories about the whole thing, but one that stands out right now is the time... well it went like this.  There was this woman in a read top that as she made her way up the stairs, her large breasts swayed free.  She made a comment, and I said that I was just watching to see if her breasts would swing free.    And it was then that she pulled down the front of her blouse and out they were.  Big and beautiful pendulous breasts.  Oh, it was delicious.  In return, I lifted my kilt so she could get an eye full of my ass.  (it's amazing how a kilt makes your naked ass a desirable thing)

Now beside me was one of the bus boys who couldn't believe what he had just seen.  The other two bus boys came by after she was gone and they were so upset they missed the show.  Well, we sat there until she returned and I explained that these young lads missed her bountiful breasts.  So she told us to line up, pulled them out and tweaked her nipples for our pleasure.  (never mind that two of the boys were only 16 years old)

Ah, I will never forget that woman.  I mean, I couldn't tell you what she looked like aside from her large breasts with those rich, chocolate colored nipples with those big old areolas...   I wonder what her face looked like.

Horny frogs...

Remember that all the noises you year animals make at night mean they are trying to get laid.

I always enjoy the idea that it's considered a romantic gesture to give someone you like the sexual organs of plants.  And if you have plant allergies, it's because you are actually allergic to plant semen.  And if you park under a maple tree and find in the morning that there is a thin yellow layer all over your car, consider that the tree had cum all over your car.

With that in mind, I realize a whole lot of other things.  Like how delicious eggs are unfertilized chicken embryos.  Eh, but I still want them fried up with that gooey yellow center to dip my toast into what would have been the protein of the chicken fetus if it should have been fertile.

Okay, I'm off to make breakfast!

Nearly 3 and a half decades...

I have spent my life going back and forth about birthdays.  When I was young, I had a pool, there was one year there was a pony, and another year a clown.  And still, I always envied my brother's parties since he had his birthday close enough to Halloween that he had theme parties.  It was awesome...

So the last parties when I was young for my birthday were a little less than fun.  one that sticks out in my mind is the year my mother wished to surprise me with a party.  I found out about it.  (to date, no one has ever actually surprised me with a party.)  I found out that my brother was in charge of inviting everyone for my party.  I told my brother to make sure he invited my 2 best friends who I always hung out with.  The day arrived for the party, and my friends weren't there.  In fact, they were all my brother's friends that I knew only by association.  I called my friends and found that they were never invited.  I left my own party before cake and ice cream to go hang out with my friends.  My mother was pissed, and I was more than angry.

The next year was better because I ditched the house and went to hang with my friends making it clear that I was having friends over at his place for my birthday.  It was my 16th, and my dad showed up.  he gave us money for chips and soda.

The year after, my mother was going to have a party again, but I made it perfectly clear that I did not wish for one.  So, she made plans to go out of town for the weekend and bought a whole shit load of junk food and soda just in case I wanted to have friends over.  I spent the weekend at my friend's house instead and actually got scolded for NOT having a party!

Since that year, I have avoided the whole birthday thing.  But then, last year as I was reading the Satanic Bible, I realized that I should really make it a big deal.  So for the first time since I was a little kid, I decided to celebrate openly the day of my birth since it was the most important event in my life!  So, I found out my wife was planning a party for me, I just didn't know when and where at first.  I figured she would have planned something on any other day other than my birthday because I needed to work 1st thing in the morning (6am), but I was wrong.  And it ended up being the most embarrassing event in the history of birthdays.  

My wife had evidently sent a message via Facebook to all of our mutual friends that she was planning something.  That was how I found out about her plans.  Then, on my birthday, she suggested we head out to the bar that I once had worked at and knew the employees and owner.  I figured she had the plans worked out for there on the night of my birthday.  Okay.  So we show up, and I figure we must be early since there is only one other person there at the time.  (that person being the ex-wife of a good friend, and I can't say that I could care less to be around her.)  There is a big ass Star Trek cake and the whole deck has been reserved for my party... that no one showed up for.

I was so embarrassed.  I cut the cake when we realized not a soul was coming out, and I spent most of the night listening to my wife and my friend's ex talk about Avon.  Bored, pissed, rejected, alone and other words would describe best how I felt about that night.  I was so angry that I posted a comment on my facebook berating all my friends for choosing not to show up.

The next morning I found several replies that basically said, "huh?  what party?"

So it turned out that my wife never got back to most of the people who said they would come if they had details, and she never actually went through my list of friends to invite people.  I can't really explain the feelings I had about the whole mess, and who I was pissed off at.  In fact, I still get angry about the whole incident.  But the worst part is that I am so embarrassed about the whole event that I have not gone back to that bar of my own volition since.

And so, as my next birthday approaches, I feel that i should do something to avoid this whole cluster-fuck once again as I did when I turned 16.  I've still got almost 2 months... so we'll just have to see.

In the mean time, buy some cure!

I Love Catch-22!

I love to read.  I read a lot.  But I don't read enough.  I think one of my favorite books of all time was Catch-22.  You know the best part about the book is that it was supposed to be catch-18.  But there was something about the number 18 being in something else that year, so they went with the second silliest number Heller could think of.

I've always loved reading books with sex in it.  I loved it in high school, because I would sit there in study hall and read all the steamy details and then think about the fact that everyone else around me wasn't even thinking about sex like I was reading.  Nothing like romance novels, but there seemed to always be a scene in most of the Koontz books that I was reading at the time.  Especially that one where the guy had all sorts of fetishes and a drug to hypnotize people.  Man did I want a drug to hypnotize people.

I have to admit that I spent a lot of time thinking about that.  Of course, had I planned ahead in my life, I would have saved all my money I spent on the recording equipment and instruments to invest in my future to buy kinky prostitutes and moved to LasVegas.  Oh well, hind sight 20/20.

But now I just have high speed internet and streaming porn!  But seriously, you should read Catch-22!

The dead guy who love manicotti

So when I used to deliver pizza, I was good at where I should take deliveries to and where to avoid on a busy Saturday.  The worst was the diaper house!  Holy stinky shitty diapers!  These people had an enclosed staircase to their apartment, and just outside their door were the trash cans.  I am positive that they would have been better off if the cans had lids, but they didn't.

These people wold let their young kids, (3-6 at any given time) answer the door.  Then I would have to stand there and wait until the kids got the attention of one of the parents.  Then, one child would come with money.  the father (or the male living there) would finally arrive and wait for exact change and take the food.  The whole time the putrid collection of diapers in the trash cans, not even in bags, filled me with a desire to vomit.  Of course, imagine that smell.  Hot pizza, purifying baby shit, and vomit all at once.  Finally, I could leave.  And what was my tip for having to deal with this shit?  Not one penny!  Oh how I hated those ass holes.

Here's the thing... people in the industry who work for tips remember shit like this.  Seriously, if someone told me to go to 96 south main street, I would cringe and the feeling of nausea would overcome me, and it's been over 15 years since I delivered pizza!  And let me tell you, when you are a shitty tipper, don't you think for a second that on a busy Friday/Saturday night that you will get your food in any timely manner!

The creepiest delivery was the woman who would make us go into her house and take the food to the dining room table while she collected the money from the man in the recliner.  Here's the thing about them.  I would have to come in, she would instruct me to wait, and I would listen to her inquire about how much to give me. Thing was, I never heard the guy reply.  I mean, her voice was loud and clear, but I never heard a word from him.  When I would walk by the room that he was seated, always exactly in the same position and forever watching Wheel of blah blah blah... never moving.  And I wasn't the only one.  The other drivers claimed to never hear or see him move either.  So we all devised a theory that he was dead and she was taking care of his corpse so as to never have to say goodbye.

It was another driver who did it first, but we all followed suit fast enough.  When she would tell us to come in, we flatly refused and explained that it was an insurance thing.  At first, she would say things like, "Oh, I trust you boys" and such, and I think I finally just stated that it didn't matter since we couldn't trust her.  Then, I knocked on the door about two weeks after we boycotted stepping foot in their house.  I about fell over when there before me was the man who we all thought was dead standing at the door.  He seemed pretty irritated about the fact that we would no longer go into his house, but we all stuck by our story.  Even Joe corroborated the story when she placed their order once.

I mean, really, if all I'm getting is one dollar, I see no reason to go all the way to delivering your food to your damned dinning room table!

I want a sandwich!

Once upon a time... or one time at the bar... Have you ever come home with lipstick on your neck and not realized it?  It's happened to me, but it's not what you think.

See, I was working day bar one Sunday and I had to stick around into the evening because the afternoon tender was sick.  I had worked a 12 hour day, and I was ready to head home when I was asked to have a drink with this couple.  They were regulars, swingers and responsible about their drinking.  They swapped back and forth as to who could drink so that one of them would remain sober to drive home at the end of the night.  Well, this was her night to drink.

I had a drink with them and headed home.  Just before I left, she asked me to hang with them by throwing her arms around me and when I declined, she kissed my neck and said her good-bye.  (Now I am pretty sure her husband knew I had her lipstick on my neck and just didn't tell me.)  So, I didn't think about it until I got home, sat down next to my girlfriend.  She noticed immediately that I had some red marks on my neck.

I rubbed my hand on my neck and said, "Oh it must be -----'s lipstick."  Oh, that was not how I should have explained that.  It took a while to explain who the couple were, and even after my girlfriend was pretty pissed about the whole thing.

About a month later, she finally met the girl who kissed my neck and they became fast friends.  Funny how it all worked out, but my advice is to not giggle when explaining why you have lipstick on your neck!

Thinking about titties...

I don't know how many of you are in a relationship with someone, but let me tell you that it sucks after a while no matter how good it is to start with.  The problem is, when it's all new it's like a shiny new car.  New face, new body, new things to diddle with... but it eventually just becomes the same after a while.  I mean, there's things you can do to add some fun to it now and again, but even that can draw out to just being another routine.  After a while, you just roll over and fuck because you just want to have sex.  If and when you climax, you feel good about it, but it's nothing like the original conquest.

Don't get me wrong, i'm not saying that you find your partner any less attractive.  It doesn't matter how sexy you find your partner, they are still the same person time and time again.  Of course, this can be good in some ways.  It's like a baseball glove you've had for years that just fits so well and feels good to put around your flesh... um, you get what I mean.

The biggest downfall of getting familiar with your partner is that there is less desire to fuck like rabbits any time you get.  I mean, I remember a time when me and mine would have sex any chance we could, day or night.  Hell, four in the morning was fun, too!   Now if I tried to wake her up at 4 am, I get yelled at because sleep has become much more important than orgasms.

I was seriously going to get shit done... but...

I was turned on to this stupid puzzle game online yesterday and totally got sidetracked and did absolutely squat yesterday.  But not today... just one or two tries and I am working.  I swear.

Okay, so i was thinking about plugging in my old studio stuff to work on some new music... not that I have any time to do that with my life, writing, porn, web comics, acting, sewing, and everything else, but I really miss that feeling sometimes!  You know, the first show I ever played was in my basement with my friends in a band long forgotten called Carmilla's Dress.  I did a really horrible solo project that was shit, and I pretended it was good.  Well, sorry, I lied and I knew it.  It was utter shit.  In fact, my shit didn't start sounding decent until about 3 years later when I wised up and spent the cash for some digital recording equipment and a new keyboard.  Then it got better.

But that was so long ago.  I keep telling myself to just start with the guitar and keys and go from there.  I mean, at this point I would need to buy a new drum machine...  That reminds me of a show we played... okay, enough about that.  I'm going to play a round or two of this game and then eat and then work on shit!

And another one bites the dust-mite...

I need to kick my ass into gear with shit.  I've become very unproductive in the past few months, and that shit has to stop.  But first, I need breakfast.

You know, I wasn't always the great chef that I am today.  At one point, I struggled to make a decent bowl and mac & cheese.  I misread the directions and made it into soup because I added way to much milk.  And another time I was going to make spaghetti for my dad after school when I was exiled to his apartment for the second half of the year of seventh grade, and it turned out pretty bad.  See, i thought he was supposed to be home by 5, so I started making the noddles by 4 just so I would have enough time to cook them.  well, by the time he got home, these noodles were pretty much a pile of mush.  I figured I would keep them in hot water so they wouldn't get cold and dry out.  Yeah, we got pizza or something then.

But, as Oscar Wilde said: "Experience is the name we give our mistakes."  I learned much from those incidents.  I have had many since and have learned much from them as well.

It got to this point where I was learning how to cook things like stews and chili.  I would start out with a small pan, move to a bigger one and just kept adding to it until I had to use the largest pot in the pantry.  Again, I've learned since then and haven't done that in a while.  But still, I made some good shit back then.

And don't get me wrong, I'm still learning.  I'm still working on how to make the perfect pie crust and so on.  And some day I would like to make a pizza crust and bread worth of Joe.  But until then, I keep learning.

Okay, now I really want some breakfast!

Better Than Eating Out (Pink Tacos Not Included (huh?  so I just found my cookbook on amazon.com for $130... that can't be right... need to look into this.  If you want it, it's only about $6 on the Lulu site!)