Rant: Manscaping mishap. You'd think I'd fucking know better by now, but no, me and my adhd have to really hurt myself before Iearn. Fortunately I didn't really hurt myself but God dam.
Rave: Got some of my first freelance work writing for RingTV.com, the web home of RING Magazine, aka "The Bible of Boxing". Contributed to the mag once early in 2012 but this was the first time I've gotten my work on their website. I quit writing for the site I wrote for in 2012 and was hoping to catch on with one of the bigger sites that pays decent. RingTV is one of those sites, and I'm hoping my work shines through enough that I get brought on full-time. They've got a great staff with some young talent and I feel as though I'd fit in nicely. Vegas has been going nicely since moving in November, though Rant: starting to run out of money and might have to find some part-time work that isn't writing soon. Tomorrow night, Hard Rock has a Showtime card headlined by Sharif Bogere vs. Richard Abril for a vacant lightweight title. I wrote a feature on Bogere for RingTV and will be covering the fight on deadline for them. Here's the link to my story, do me a favor and give it a click, I think Bogere's story is an interesting one.
Rant: Fuck being sick, on the weekend, when an old buddy is coming in from out of town to visit. I even stayed home from work yesterday and rested but noooo, still a mess.
Rave: Got a lead on a teaching job I'd be perfect for. They're specifically looking for people who can teach Psychology, which is what my degree is in. I also have an in with another faculty member who is close with the principal, so this is the best chance I have at getting a teaching job, ever. Rant: If I don't get it, I'm giving up on teaching. Lots of money down the tubes.
Rant: Holy fucking hangover batman, that cider I was drinking was tasty but by fuck it kicks like a mule. I haven't been hungover in ages either.
Fuck. I guess you have to learn some lessons the hard way. And I'm not impressed, just pissed. Very very pissed. 51% at him for being just an absolute scum bag, and 49% at myself for being such a naive idiot. I met him a bunch of times to give him money (what the fuck is wrong with me?) and he was SO convincing that I bought his bullshit every time. Seriously, he could give Daniel Day-Lewis a run for his money. I finally sat down and went through all the events, stories, and facts objectively and saw what was happening, and I've never felt like more of a fool. He got mad at me for not giving him EVEN MORE money today, and still says he'll pay me back tomorrow. I'd put the odds of that happening at about 1%. I called the police when he asked me for more money today, but apparently this isn't grounds for a cool sting operation and there's really nothing they can do since I gave willingly. The money isn't even the big deal. It was a lot, but I'll be fine. It's that I really tried to go out of my way to help someone, and now I have to sit here feeling so angry and embarrassed with myself. I have a lot of stuff to get done in the next couple weeks, and I have no idea how long this anxiety/rage/humiliation/stress cloud is going to last. I think the lesson here is to never help anybody, ever, and if anyone tells you they have cancer just kick them in the dick because they're definitely lying.
Rant: Grading research papers is worse than licking Roseanne Barr's taint. Rave: Moving into a different house. Should improve my quality of life a bit. Rant: I have to do it over my spring break.
Just finished applying... Rant: Holy damn is that a long application. Took me a solid 3 hours to finish the thing. Rave: Really hoping I can get a good word in and get this job. Rave: Either way, I'm working full time come August. It is just whether it will be teaching or at a video store. I honestly can't complain too much about either job.
Rave: Redoing the wood floors. We are almost done and they look great already. Rant: All of the furniture is filling the rest of the house. Also my roommate thought it would be a good idea to spread all of the sawdust along the walkways in the backyard. It was fine until a lot of snow melted today. Spoiler Now there is a 1" thick layer of what looks like dookie all over everything. The backyard looks like shit. Rave: We had a parrot in the house for the weekend. He was pretty cool. Spoiler
Rant: Slipped on the ice and fell hard today. I feel like I folded my rib cage in half. Rave: I'm gonna put my order in on an 8000RR tomorrow: Spoiler
Rant: Breakup. Rant: Breakup. Rant: Breakup. Yeah, it doesn't stop being crappy even after it sinks in. This is definitely the right move, and I'm sad we didn't make it sooner before both of us became miserable, and I'm going to be happier once I get over this hump and adjust to being single and unencumbered...but for right now, I still love him and this is shitty. So, yeah. Rant: Breakup.
Rant: Being a nice guy, once you accept that's what you are, is ok most of the time. People actually are pretty nice in return. Then you hit a moment where you think 'why the fuck can't I be the tough ass once in a while?' The answer is simple, you're not that guy. I hate FIrst Friday in Old City. Despise it. I run like a Mexican being pursued by INS. Don't make great money. Then I had my first two tables (I don't bartend on First Friday, I do table service, in other words 'Bitch Mode') and there were problems. Legitimate problems that were not of my doing. But I get to suffer. It started a litany of events that ended with me at 11:00 p.m. saying 'You know what, I'm cutting myself, I've had enough.' No one had an issue with this. Rave: That night, I had a table of 3 overweight older black women. Let me tell you, one of the best tables I ever had. At one point, they asked 'Do shots with us!' I don't drink anymore, but if I did, I would have hit it with these chicks. I would have made sweet sweet love to every one of them, because they made a shitty night somewhat bearable. Rant: Walk into work at 11 a.m. Saturday. Poured my first beer at 1 p.m. Jesus, it's really foamy, and slightly warm. What the fuck? Check the gas, check the walk in, check the kegs. Nope, all good. Ok. Pour second beer (a different one) at 1:30 p.m. Same thing. FUCK. Two weeks ago, I came in, found beer all over the walk in, and called the manager. I got a good reaming for that. My fault? Nope. But I hear it. Call another bartender, manager walks in. Apparently the Glycol system is fucked. I had no idea that there was a cooling system from the beer walk in to the taps, and if that doesn't stay cool, well, you're fucked. Rave: Monday, and I'm off. Rant: I need to get laid. Not going to happen anytime soon.
Rave: Apparently referring to my Italian Sweet Cream creamer as "jizz of the gods" is a deterrent to the boyfriend drinking it. MORE FOR ME. Seriously though, it is delicious stuff.
Rave: Went to the NASCAR event in Phoenix yesterday. So fucking awesome. Rant: Hangover. Rave: Beer heals all wounds.