Half-assed, half-week recap:
So Sunday was my 13th wedding anniversary, which was celebrated with tears and painful reminders of how I completely ruined my ex's life. Hooray!
Monday I had late-lunch/dinner with the Rabbi; Johnny Something's Shrimp Shack. Mild was the call for the heat index, since this was my first excursion into cajun food. After driving to the park and discussing my latest phobia, ticks with Lyme disease, it was off to the ghost zoo and a trip down Walhalla on the way back to the car.
Today (Tuesday), Chef and I got some ghetto fish for lunch, and I not only paid for it then in American dollars, but am now paying for it in one hell of a gastrointestinal excursion. It feels as though I've been ass-raped by a dragon, although that may be a gentler experience than this. In short, stay away from fish on 5th Ave.
After finally finishing my work day, I decided to go get my hair cut. Oops! I'm sorry, personal life...please hold. Off to Mount Vernon for a delivery, which turned out to be pretty cool because of the drive. Very scenic, and the fresh air was nice to clear my head after a most fucked up ending to the weekend. Decided to destroy that refreshing feeling with a trip to Cracker Barrel, which was a painful reminder of the Lawyer; that was the last place we saw each other. So after saying I need a table for one, the hostess sat me down with two menus, with one at the empty space across from me. I wanted to punch that c*nt in the f*cking neck. The. End.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Religious Excrement!
For those of you not hip to the game, that's 'holy shit' in the most polite way I could think to put it. My exclamation comes as a result of this daily blog becoming a footnote rather quickly, exactly four days into it. But I'm back, kiddies. Put away the sawed-off and wash the glue from your body, no need to bedazzle yourselves to get my attention. I'm here again and posting without any promise of returning, so deal with it.
Want to know what the hell happened? I'll tell you! Turns out my life is as uninteresting as a fat man doing the tango, so writing every day would have been a chore at best and an exercise in stamina at worst. But I come to you today as a result of purging some demons in my other blog, and to introduce you to my new blogging friend, known for the purposes of this blog as Chef. No, he does NOT resemble the South Park character, but he does have a culinary degree.
Anyway, Chef has decided he wants to blog now; he wants to share some short stories with the world anonymously, and for that I give him much props. However, Chef has about as much computer literacy as my father who is 64 years old and retarded. Retired. Yeah, one of those. So the conversation more or less went like this:
(RING RING)
Me: Hello?
Chef: Hey brotha, how do you (insert computer issue here)?
Me: Just (insert relatively simple answer here).
Chef: Okay, thanks brotha.
Me: Yep, no problem.
Repeat this exact conversation 47 times, and that has been the last hour or so of my life. I think he may have a blog started by now, but it's tough to say. This is the same guy who a few months ago strolled up to me with his chest puffed out exclaiming 'Oh yeah, brotha! I'm bloggin'!' to only find out he was merely posting comments about his favorite NFL team in their fan forum. Yeah, you're blogging, buddy. I could have let him continue his fantasy, but he would have found out eventually and been crushed that I didn't tell him. But as Chef says with everything, 'I don't know (insert any task he's failed at here), I know cooking'.
And he's right, that motherfucker can chef the shit outta some thin air.
Welcome to the blogosphere, Chef.
Want to know what the hell happened? I'll tell you! Turns out my life is as uninteresting as a fat man doing the tango, so writing every day would have been a chore at best and an exercise in stamina at worst. But I come to you today as a result of purging some demons in my other blog, and to introduce you to my new blogging friend, known for the purposes of this blog as Chef. No, he does NOT resemble the South Park character, but he does have a culinary degree.
Anyway, Chef has decided he wants to blog now; he wants to share some short stories with the world anonymously, and for that I give him much props. However, Chef has about as much computer literacy as my father who is 64 years old and retarded. Retired. Yeah, one of those. So the conversation more or less went like this:
(RING RING)
Me: Hello?
Chef: Hey brotha, how do you (insert computer issue here)?
Me: Just (insert relatively simple answer here).
Chef: Okay, thanks brotha.
Me: Yep, no problem.
Repeat this exact conversation 47 times, and that has been the last hour or so of my life. I think he may have a blog started by now, but it's tough to say. This is the same guy who a few months ago strolled up to me with his chest puffed out exclaiming 'Oh yeah, brotha! I'm bloggin'!' to only find out he was merely posting comments about his favorite NFL team in their fan forum. Yeah, you're blogging, buddy. I could have let him continue his fantasy, but he would have found out eventually and been crushed that I didn't tell him. But as Chef says with everything, 'I don't know (insert any task he's failed at here), I know cooking'.
And he's right, that motherfucker can chef the shit outta some thin air.
Welcome to the blogosphere, Chef.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Midnight Snack
I just woke up from sleeping, which is hard to believe; typically once I fall asleep I'm gone until at least 3 alarms and a phone call wake me up. So while I was up, I thought I'd hit the blog since I'd fallen asleep before an entry couild be made. So recapping my thoughts for the day:
Argued in the morning with the wife, busy day at work, chinese buffet for lunch, worked late again, spent too long driving in the snow, came home, begrudgingly spoke to my neighbor, played with my daughter, made nice with the wife, and finally, FINALLY, stopped.
And then I fell asleep. Also, my balls hurt.
Sorry, no good stories tonight...I'm entirely too weary-eyed to even finish typ
Argued in the morning with the wife, busy day at work, chinese buffet for lunch, worked late again, spent too long driving in the snow, came home, begrudgingly spoke to my neighbor, played with my daughter, made nice with the wife, and finally, FINALLY, stopped.
And then I fell asleep. Also, my balls hurt.
Sorry, no good stories tonight...I'm entirely too weary-eyed to even finish typ
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Changing the Subject
Tonight I was going to have a quick dinner, play with my daughter, and run a couple of errands for the wife. Tonight I was going to settle in early, maybe listen to some music I'd recently written, and possibly get to bed at a normal time. Tonight's blog entry was going to be about all of that, but I'm changing the subject.
I'm changing the subject because it's nearly midnight, and I want to talk about why I'm still awake. I am still awake because I want to stick this daily blog thing out, although I could do that at any time of the day. No, my friends, the reason I have started this entry at 11:35pm and the actual reason I have yet to go to sleep is because my two year-old daughter has a bedtime that is later than some teenagers. Her bedtime is ten o'clock at fucking night. 10pm. Sometimes, she piddles around and is up way past that. Tonight, she didn't want to go to bed at all.
Now normally, when your two year-old child goes to bed, it's a reasonable time...say, 7pm, 8pm, you get the idea. Now if said child doesn't want to go to sleep, or doesn't feel well, it's no biggie...right? You can just stay up a little longer, sometimes by a few hours, and you're still in bed yourself by 10pm. Not my daughter. You see, if she is having a bad night (which happens more than occasionally) I am stuck awake until midnight, sometimes later. When I have to be up no later than 6am, it's not a stretch to say I'm a bit annoyed with her mother, who set that ridiculous bedtime for a two year-old in the first place.
So why don't I change it, you ask? Well, for those of you who don't know (which is most of you), my wife and I are currently separated and living apart. I go there every night to play with my Pretty Pretty Princess and to put her down for the night. I do this because my wife is physically unable to (due to surgery), and it's really no big deal. Unless of course, I have been up since 6am, worked until 8pm, and then I have to stay up until the wee hours of the next morning because PPP wants to jump around and play with her toys instead of sleep. So tonight, I'm obviously annoyed, and guess who gets an attitude? Two hints: it wasn't me, nor was it PPP.
So after the general uncomfortableness that accompanies hard glances and sharp exchanges, I took PPP into her room and tried to rock her to sleep; shortly thereafter, the wife comes in and has decided she wants me to go home because she doesn't need my attitude and doesn't want me to be mad at her and the baby. There's more background to the story than that, but I'll spare the details in order to keep you from falling asleep and me from not falling asleep.
I certainly hope you've thoroughly enjoyed this entry as much as I have; now I'm going to take my old ass to bed and hopefully get a few hours of rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day, and I'm already behind on my sleep.
I'm changing the subject because it's nearly midnight, and I want to talk about why I'm still awake. I am still awake because I want to stick this daily blog thing out, although I could do that at any time of the day. No, my friends, the reason I have started this entry at 11:35pm and the actual reason I have yet to go to sleep is because my two year-old daughter has a bedtime that is later than some teenagers. Her bedtime is ten o'clock at fucking night. 10pm. Sometimes, she piddles around and is up way past that. Tonight, she didn't want to go to bed at all.
Now normally, when your two year-old child goes to bed, it's a reasonable time...say, 7pm, 8pm, you get the idea. Now if said child doesn't want to go to sleep, or doesn't feel well, it's no biggie...right? You can just stay up a little longer, sometimes by a few hours, and you're still in bed yourself by 10pm. Not my daughter. You see, if she is having a bad night (which happens more than occasionally) I am stuck awake until midnight, sometimes later. When I have to be up no later than 6am, it's not a stretch to say I'm a bit annoyed with her mother, who set that ridiculous bedtime for a two year-old in the first place.
So why don't I change it, you ask? Well, for those of you who don't know (which is most of you), my wife and I are currently separated and living apart. I go there every night to play with my Pretty Pretty Princess and to put her down for the night. I do this because my wife is physically unable to (due to surgery), and it's really no big deal. Unless of course, I have been up since 6am, worked until 8pm, and then I have to stay up until the wee hours of the next morning because PPP wants to jump around and play with her toys instead of sleep. So tonight, I'm obviously annoyed, and guess who gets an attitude? Two hints: it wasn't me, nor was it PPP.
So after the general uncomfortableness that accompanies hard glances and sharp exchanges, I took PPP into her room and tried to rock her to sleep; shortly thereafter, the wife comes in and has decided she wants me to go home because she doesn't need my attitude and doesn't want me to be mad at her and the baby. There's more background to the story than that, but I'll spare the details in order to keep you from falling asleep and me from not falling asleep.
I certainly hope you've thoroughly enjoyed this entry as much as I have; now I'm going to take my old ass to bed and hopefully get a few hours of rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day, and I'm already behind on my sleep.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Rabbi and I
Faith is either the edge of sanity or the beginning of clarity.
I came up with that quote last night while I was texting a friend, and I thought it was rather clever considering the source. Aside from that, it was relatively appropriate for the circumstances she's in; she may actually be reading this now, and as a nod to Anastasia, I will constantly refer to her and everyone I know by an alias. So let me tell you a bit about the Rabbi...
Strong-willed, bull-headed, and sharp with her wit, she's also wounded, emotional, and frustrated by her own tears. She has been a casual friend, although since we are virtual strangers to one another, there's that comfort of never having to face your keeper of secrets. She finds me extremely weird (and she's correct) and I find her extremely intriguing, but that's not why the story continues.
I will spare her the horror of watching her life unfold in front of strangers, albeit anonymously, and simply suggest that she has already told you her story. You just don't know it yet. One day I hope you will, and you will see the life of an ordinary, exceptional person; a person who lives two lives, one of awareness of her surroundings, and one of hiding in the shadows. She's all of us at one time or another, and it's refreshing to see someone who's as contradictive as yourself.
So here I am, keeping a promise and writing on consecutive days. Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you another story. Yes, Anastasia, I think I will.
I came up with that quote last night while I was texting a friend, and I thought it was rather clever considering the source. Aside from that, it was relatively appropriate for the circumstances she's in; she may actually be reading this now, and as a nod to Anastasia, I will constantly refer to her and everyone I know by an alias. So let me tell you a bit about the Rabbi...
Strong-willed, bull-headed, and sharp with her wit, she's also wounded, emotional, and frustrated by her own tears. She has been a casual friend, although since we are virtual strangers to one another, there's that comfort of never having to face your keeper of secrets. She finds me extremely weird (and she's correct) and I find her extremely intriguing, but that's not why the story continues.
I will spare her the horror of watching her life unfold in front of strangers, albeit anonymously, and simply suggest that she has already told you her story. You just don't know it yet. One day I hope you will, and you will see the life of an ordinary, exceptional person; a person who lives two lives, one of awareness of her surroundings, and one of hiding in the shadows. She's all of us at one time or another, and it's refreshing to see someone who's as contradictive as yourself.
So here I am, keeping a promise and writing on consecutive days. Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you another story. Yes, Anastasia, I think I will.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Imported Waste
I've started this out of curiosity, to see how far I actually get. I'm going to make this my semi-daily thing, where my thoughts can ramble without anyone actually seeing the darker side of things; only a select few get that priviledge. So here's a little about me...
I probably don't give a fuck about your perception of me.
Maybe I do.
Nah, I don't. Those of you who will read this will undoubtedly be bored most of the time, but if you subscribe I can guarantee at least one good post. I mean come on, it's MY LIFE we're talking about here. Pseudo-rock star in the making. Or made. One of those two. You can come along for the ride, or you can watch me zoom by as I break this bitch in. Technically, I guess you're doing both.
I'm going to import some of the crap from my 'secret' blog, the stuff that doesn't belong there. And if you chase me long enough, you may gain access to that one; but for now you're stuck with the 'happy' side of me. Enjoy that for what it's worth.
I probably don't give a fuck about your perception of me.
Maybe I do.
Nah, I don't. Those of you who will read this will undoubtedly be bored most of the time, but if you subscribe I can guarantee at least one good post. I mean come on, it's MY LIFE we're talking about here. Pseudo-rock star in the making. Or made. One of those two. You can come along for the ride, or you can watch me zoom by as I break this bitch in. Technically, I guess you're doing both.
I'm going to import some of the crap from my 'secret' blog, the stuff that doesn't belong there. And if you chase me long enough, you may gain access to that one; but for now you're stuck with the 'happy' side of me. Enjoy that for what it's worth.
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