The Pits

I know, I know.

I don't update this anymore. I'm the worst. Blah blah.



It's funny, because it would have been pretty interesting to chronicle the life this blog has missed. I was unemployed for a while, then sort of employed, then unemployed, then had this crazy job that sent me to LA, NY and Vegas, and now kinda half and half employed/unemployed again. Like a surf n turf.

Surf is definitely the unemployed because I don't eat seafood.

It's been a really trying time, truth be told. And it just keeps dragging on.

That's the nature of my work though, part-time work, short contracts, less-than-ideal jobs. I guess it's the path I chose though, so I shouldn't complain too much. But, I am ready for the next step - I'm ready for something full-time and permanent. Something that fits.

I have recruiters helping me find work, which makes me feel kinda important when I pretend they are my agents, and jobs are fighting over me (doesn't happen).

Oh and I have this now, just started: boneshark.tumblr.com so you can go there. It's like this blog, except I actually post things there, but tumblr is kinda for teenage girls. So, it's a plus/minus.

You want an update on my love life? Too bad. Just know that never finding someone who loves you isn't nearly as scary as never finding someone you love.

Keep up the good work, guys.

Curls

So this whole finding a car thing is kind of like finding a girlfriend.

It's going to cost me a ton of money and frustration. And really I just need one that is going to look so cool it gets me girls.

Last night I forgot to take out the trash and change the cat's litter. This caused me to have a "nightmare" about finding another, unchanged, secondary cat box in my apartment. My brain is stupid when I'm not in charge of it.

Hey it's 60 degrees today! But also Seattle. Take the good with the bad.

I had to go to a notary yesterday, and it made me realize that notary might be the silliest, most archaic public service position in existence. It's like having a horse inspector around the corner.

OSCARS! I didn't see a single movie that was nominated for any of those awards. Not a single one. I honestly think the last movie I saw in the the theaters in the last 365 days was Paranormal Activity 2, and that was terrible (as I knew it would be).

Let's party?

Weekend Rodeo Roundup

An extra weekend day. Always great. Except when you work on holidays. Then it's less great.

Friday
Friday's have gotten a little routine for me. Work late and take it easy. That has been the plan the last few weeks. Meh.

Saturday
Holidayday. Barbecue, meat, yard games, watching sports. Everything you'd expect from the Memorial Day weekend Saturday. It was fun. Nothing too wild, met some grownups I didn't know, which always makes me a little anxious - even if I had no reason to be. I didn't have to impress these grownups or anything, it still always makes me a little nervous though.

Sunday
Monster Dragon. Went to the track to watch some Harness racing on Sunday. It had been a while since I had been to a track. I always forget just how terrifying some of the people who go to watch horses race each other are. I always enjoy myself though - I love gambling. Went up and met the guy who announces the races, he was certainly "quirky".

Monday
Bonus blog day. Monday I worked, because I didn't have off like most people. But I did cut out early. I went to my sister's place to take care of her EIGHT cats. That's too many cats for non-crazy people to have. Half are temporary to be fair, but still. The kittens were adorable, as to be expected. Went to a barbecue after that, watched the Flyers lose. And now here we are on a rainy Tuesday that feels like a rainy Monday. And this whole thing is boring as sin. Sorry readers. I'll be back later with a little TART slash DOAH. Maybe.

Weekend Rodeo Roundup

So, let's see how this goes.

Friday

Friday I worked. I'm always busy Fridays, trying to finish up as much of the accumulated work from the week as I can. After work I cleaned my apartment to prep for the arrival of some new tenants. My ex is traveling Europe. The two cats we got when we were together are coming to stay with me. Bonk and Skeletor Dirtbike.
Much cleaning was accomplished. 5 bags of trash and some novelty vacuuming later, I called it.
After that, went up to the bar to revel in the Flyers' miraculous victory.

Saturday

Went out for a typical egg heavy breakfast. Did some shopping and went to the park. The park was great, Phillies on the handheld radio, lemony booze drinks concocted in sippy cups, injury inducing cartwheels, photographs, Willow climbing, it was a good Saturday.

After that the cat delivery went down. My ex brought them by and they were unhappy about the change of scenery. Lots of angry mews and hiding.



Skeletor hid beside the sink, and meowed angrily if you found her. She doesn't like losing hide and seek.



Bonk hid above the washing machine, she likes being high up.

We let them settle in and went out for the most delicious Mexican food I ever had with our already drunk friend. Five dollars were added to the tip for his behavior.

Sunday

Went to lunch with a friend in a surprisingly trashy neighborhood.

Stumbled upon a massive flea market. They were mostly shutting down, but not before I could pull down a stupid haul of trivial crap. I scored some Alf, NKOTB, Street Sharks and Garbage Pail Kids trading cards. Also found some ridiculous baseball suction cup player head things and a comic book about Mike Tyson.

Then, we went to meet my sister's new stray cat kittens. They were kinda creepy and awesome.
A little more hanging out, another Flyer's game, another trip to the bar and I was ready to call it a night.
Bonk is the mischievous sort, and mostly nocturnal. It's tough to make it through the night without her getting into something. But, I'm a heavy sleeper and figure I should be able to ignore most of it. Early this morning, around 5:45 am, I heard a pretty significant commotion at the foot of the couch I was sleeping on. I thought someone was in my apartment. I wake up and turn just in time to see Bonk leaping and scrambling from atop my lamp. It's a paper square, I don't even know how she got that far.


This is the lamp she tried to stand on

Well in my sleepy haze I see this go down and reach out and try to catch her as her horrible footing gave way and she dove toward me. She scratched the hell out of me and the lamp went timber-ing into my bike. Thanks Bonk, good morning to you too.

It always was my biggest fear to die without changing a Goddamned thing

As I ramp up my job quest, I am thinking about what I will be doing. I always had this idea that I would never do some bullshit job. I would never work in a cubicle or worry about accounts or reports or any of those seemingly endless office jobs that accomplish nothing. Well that idealism is butting up against realism. I am still looking for a job that will require use of my brain, and not make me want to die every single day. I am sure there will be concessions. Every day we concede a little more. One day we're wearing a tie and singing happy birthday to some fat typist in our office and looking forward to a grocery store bought ice cream cake in the strange smelling communal office fridge. Shit.

Does it really matter what we do as a job? Is it really part of our life like that? Or is it just a vehicle to other kinds of happiness? Does it matter what I do from 9-5 of every day of my goddamned life? Or can I just use that money to set up model trains or collect coins or whatever the hell else middle aged men hobby at. Can I be happy being the secretly tattoed accounts manager at some whatever business? Living my real life in the evenings and weekends? Or will it eat my soul. chomp chomp chomp.

Alas.

Looks like I'll be getting a new car in the near future. Suggestions? Another concession. I used to drive these 'bombs.' I loved them, I loved having a car that made me happy. I would drive around just to drive, smoking cigarettes, changing CDs, brooding, laughing, dating - living what I wanted to be my life in these ridiculous cars. Then I kinda grew up. Small concessions here and there. I drive a "new car" now. At least it is fun to drive, fast and exciting. Maybe that's done too. Maybe my next car will be a Nissan Sentra. I don't like it. I know it is childish and immature, but I love my car. I hate my car, but I love my car. Maybe I can just switch from loving performance to loving practicality and fuel mileage. Ugh, I don't want to grow up.

It Pours

If the shit flows downstream I am at the bottom of the waterfall right now.

Anyway.

I'm reading, and reading. I am beginning to think I am at a disadvantage here as far as life experience goes. First off, let's get the great authors of the 20th century out of the way - I am not an alcoholic. Second let's take care of all these current writers. I am not some tortured soul with some sordid childhood. My parents are still together, I never got bullied too badly, I have had girlfriends, I didn't spend my childhood friendless and listening to records. I am no wallflower, I have no pathos to mine for the good of my writing.

I could easily invent one. I could write the story of some tortured soul and tickle all the kindred spirits whose lives aren't as hard as they wish and think.

Or maybe I'm on to something. Maybe I could write something that people can actually relate to. Maybe most of us are this social middle class. We aren't all lepers and we certainly aren't all homecoming queens.

We all got it coming, kid.

Photo credit: http://www.lomography.com/homes/digouturblueeyes

Everything always looks so dark in nighttime fisheye pictures. Right over my shoulder is some gaping maw black abyss. How metaphorical!

I've been ramping up the reading lately. Getting me stoked to write something on my own. These somewhat poorly written faux memoirs are right up my alley. I can somewhat poorly write a faux memoir! Exclamation points abound. Only one was completely sarcastic.

I am officially looking for a job. I am doubtful I can find one that matches the freedom of my current job's pantslessness, hopeful that I can improve on the financial standing of a Chuck E. Cheese manager.

Time to put on my big boy pants and do this. I don't want to fall asleep watching DVD reruns of futurama and wake up 10 years in the future singing a Talking Heads song. I am still confident I can get a job that won't steal my soul. I'm not talking about some namby pamby touchy feely nonprofit job either, that's not my bag. I just want something that makes me feel productive and utilized. I am a man with skills! A skilled man! I don't want to be an account manager or alphabetizer. Also, rich would be nice.

Truth Bombs

I don't know how people with blogs keep their friends.

The stuff that would make for legitimately interesting blog posts would certainly piss off the only people that read my blog, my close friends. Maybe I need to be widely read before I can start spilling the beans of the crazy shit that goes down in my life and my friends' lives.

I understand that bitching about strangers in a restaurant isn't exactly gripping or hilarious.
I was talking about this with my friend last night. Well, he was drunkenly yelling at me to write down the actual horrible shit I say and have been through. Writing about last night would probably make a pretty interesting entry, but I don't think writing about the drunken exploits of 33% of my readership would be a good idea moving forward.

Maybe some day I'll write about the embarrassing love triangles and cuckolding of terminally ill people and horrible shit I say about people I know - omelets and eggs and all that.

Master Plan

Here's the plan:
Start blog.
Be charming and prolific.
Write short story/novel.
Be published.
Profit.

Not seen: Work jobs, develop soul crushing ennui

I hope that my current job editing/proofing articles with the absolute worst, mind boggling grammar has yet to affect my personal style. I mean, a book written by someone who seems like they don't speak English and runs everything through a thesaurus with no understanding of what they are trying to say might be entertaining, but I don't think I have the stomach for that.

I've written things in the past. I've written good things in the past. I've written things that were performed, published, praised and enjoyed in the past. I am older, wiser and have way more funny stories now. I've shrugged of my teenage angst which stretch inappropriately into my early twenties. I still think too much and read less than I'd like and you'd suspect. I have had suspicions that my self-important assholery could find a perfect outlet in blog form.

I saw a woman wearing her shoes on the wrong feet today, it reminded me of you.

I suspect I'll write a little about the things I enjoy, and a lot about the things I hate. I mean, hey you can like all the same crap I do, but I'll really be impressed if our hate venn-diagrams overlap. I'm channeling Bukowski, Camus and Thor.

likes:
Baseball
Sneakers
Beard
Beef n' Carb diet
Rock
Roll
Sharks

hates:
Everything else