I've been at My place for almost two months now, and I am unable to deny one uncompromising truth: I miss living at my parent's house.
Psych!!!
I love being on my own. The freedom, and luxury of walking around in my underwear is amazing. The only person who habitually views myself in my disrobed glory...suffice it to say that she enjoys the sight.
That being said I live in the ghetto. At first I thought...nah this is no different than my home in the chats...not high class, but not bad. I am past all such delusions. I live in the hood. Here are a few reasons that have brought me to this unassailable proof.
Transportation
I am not above taking the bus. Back in my single days, while many guys killed themselves financially by purchasing these vehicles...I was quite happy to tell any girl walking that I was rocking a bus pass. Granted, I always shaded it with environmental consciousness (let me tell you girlies have a soft spot for a man who treats his mother well, why not Mother Earth?). Everything is all about the way you say it. Like Martha Stewart always says, "Presentation is everything". Boys, listen to that waspy bitch, the girls do.
The reason I believe that I live in the hood is not that people are too poor to drive so they take the bus, but rather that when I wake up and take the 7:30 bus to work, I can always get a seat.
I am the middle stop on the line to my metro (French-Canadian version of the subway), which means that most people in my town either don't work typical 9-to-5's, or rather that they don't work at all. They're either drug dealer's...or clientele.
Also, and this is a more humorous indication of the G-Level (ghetto level) of my town. There are a great many grown men who drive bikes...not as a leisurely activity, but as a primary means of transportation. Ghetto!!!
Child Rearing
First of all, I understand that every now and then a guy is in a dry spell, so he goes for the less attractive girl..everyone needs a slump-buster. But in true ghetto style, I can't walk down my block without seeing 2 things. 1) 3 liquor stores and 2) an ugly chick with a brand new baby, and who is pregnant as all hell. Only in the Ghetto are ugmos prime real estate. My Girly loves it that I live here, because she is absolutely certain that I would never approach any of the "females" (and I use that term extremely loosely, cuz god-damn) that live near-by.
I can't even begin to describe how many 6 year-olds there are hanging about outside of my place after 10, how evident the shotgun is at the corner store, because the Korean guy that owns the place (another ghetto warning bell) is sick of little hands stealing everything that isn't behind the counter (and some of the stuff that is, the sneaky buggers).
Also if you're chain smoking while pregnant with your third child while the other two still in diapers force feeding them marshmallows for supper because they scream bloody murder when they're in the presence of a vegetable (it doesn't matter if they're 3, and still can't string together a sentence), odds are you can forget saving up for college money, you had better save up for bail.
Location Location Location
It's true that my place is newly renovated, but the place next to me is still vacant, and the door has been kicked in (by the police or a rival drug dealer, I have no idea). I am a boy, so I care more about satellite reception than I do about interior decorating. Much to my girlies horror, I have put up a bed sheet to cover my Bay window. In the most ghetto proof of them all, one of my neighbors, a kind toothless old drunk black man, complimented me on my choice. He said the flowery motif added a natural flair to the building. It took me a few minutes to realize that he wasn't insulting me, the glint in his good eye showed that he was really genuinely happy to live next to such a high-class young man.
So when we go out to the bar, I'll yell out Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! Unless it's any other day than the 1st or the 15th...cuz then no one has their welfare money.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
The New Porn
This is something only a few guys will understand. Most guys are dating a girl who isn't really into sex, so they have to hide the fact that they watch porn. It's like Daddy's alcohol habit...everyone knows he does it, but no one talks about it. Also it's all your fault.
In my case, this is not a problem. My girl is a little deviant, so she doesn't care that I watch porn, as long as I'm not stealing any activities that could be better "spent" with/on her. She watches it too, and the rules apply both ways. When she's not around, it's cool to play ball, when she's around, I play with her.
The New Porn though, is videogames. She knows I play them, she knows I like em, but she gets this weird face whenever I play around her. So i've taken to not playing while she's around, hiding the last vestiges of my lingering nerdiness from the old days. This wouldn't be a problem, except that we're together all the time, so I don't have that much time to hit the sticks.
The real problem though, is the fact that I don't even want to play that much. After along mind numbingly boring day at work, I need like half an hour or 45 minutes tops, to blow things up, and shoot people in the head from a ridiculously long distance while jumping from the top of a tower. After I have that out of my system, I usually just want to fu...hug the shit out of her.
Wow, I really don't have any problems in life.
In my case, this is not a problem. My girl is a little deviant, so she doesn't care that I watch porn, as long as I'm not stealing any activities that could be better "spent" with/on her. She watches it too, and the rules apply both ways. When she's not around, it's cool to play ball, when she's around, I play with her.
The New Porn though, is videogames. She knows I play them, she knows I like em, but she gets this weird face whenever I play around her. So i've taken to not playing while she's around, hiding the last vestiges of my lingering nerdiness from the old days. This wouldn't be a problem, except that we're together all the time, so I don't have that much time to hit the sticks.
The real problem though, is the fact that I don't even want to play that much. After along mind numbingly boring day at work, I need like half an hour or 45 minutes tops, to blow things up, and shoot people in the head from a ridiculously long distance while jumping from the top of a tower. After I have that out of my system, I usually just want to fu...hug the shit out of her.
Wow, I really don't have any problems in life.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
How...civilized?
I have been having some seriously weird ideas lately. Yesterday on my way home I was thinking about the perils of music superstardom, and later that evening I got onto the civilised forms of dining etiquette. My girlfriend god bless her, is still in the mindframe that everything I say is either pure comedic gold, or divinely inspiring, from the mouth of god himself.
This might be a slight exaggeration, but let's say that she's really into me, which is always a great confidence booster.
In any event, I got to thinking, who ever thought that eating with a fork and knife was more civilized? I mean, for millenia, the Pharaoh at food with his fingers. Due to his position as God among men, his very touch blessed the food so that anything touching his lips was sacred. In certain parts of the country, touching your food before eating it is seen as a taciturn way of showing pleasure...or at very least it was an affirmation before all that this food is viewed as clean.
Not so in "The Western Civilization". Where we live, we have much more class. We tear the flesh of our dead animals from their bones with miniaturized tridents, sawing and rending the flesh in smaller pieces with a blade. Once we have dessicated the pre-mutilated limbs of our hunt, we stab the pieces again with these skewers (more politely referred to as Forks) and pull the meat directly from the point with our mouth.
Am I the only one who sees this as being slightly barbaric?
This might be a slight exaggeration, but let's say that she's really into me, which is always a great confidence booster.
In any event, I got to thinking, who ever thought that eating with a fork and knife was more civilized? I mean, for millenia, the Pharaoh at food with his fingers. Due to his position as God among men, his very touch blessed the food so that anything touching his lips was sacred. In certain parts of the country, touching your food before eating it is seen as a taciturn way of showing pleasure...or at very least it was an affirmation before all that this food is viewed as clean.
Not so in "The Western Civilization". Where we live, we have much more class. We tear the flesh of our dead animals from their bones with miniaturized tridents, sawing and rending the flesh in smaller pieces with a blade. Once we have dessicated the pre-mutilated limbs of our hunt, we stab the pieces again with these skewers (more politely referred to as Forks) and pull the meat directly from the point with our mouth.
Am I the only one who sees this as being slightly barbaric?
Monday, June 18, 2007
It must suck to be...
A musician.
Not just any musician, because frankly, most musicians barely scrape by in which case it doesn't suck fro them to be a musician, it sucks for them to be poor. No, at this moment I firmly believe it sucks to be a famous musician. The reason for this is because they are forced to tour in order to promote new albums, thus drumming up the sales to warrant the lavish trappings of fortune and fame.
This means that they have to play the same damn songs day in and day out for the duration of a tour. Also they have to be interviewed in every city, where they are inevitably asked the same questions. The problem with this, is not that it is boring, but because they have to seem like they are answering these questions for the first time, they have to seem genuine, otherwise it won't sell. Basically they have to lie. I wonder if the sophomore curse isn't simply a subconscious effort on the musicians part to thwart their future touring, thus allowing them to remain genuine, if not obscure.
Why would they hate playing their own songs...you might ask. They created them, and have had strong feelings involved in the making of these songs. And while I agree with you, I am drawn to the plight of the good parent (I say a good parent, because frankly bad parents aren't worth mentioning).
A good parent wants a child. they dream of a child and do their best to be the people who would make good children. They take their time while creating the child, making sure it is created with passion, love, and attention. When the child is brought to fruition, they take the time to mold them, caring for them in their fledgling moments, making them into entities that are important and noteworthy on their own, but also an integral part of a harmonious whole. Even down to their own. I have seen potential parents combing volumes of names, lexicons of appellations, to find the call sign, that will define their crowning achievement.
I have seen these same people want to tear out their own hair when the child is teething. It is not that they don't love their child, but having to repeat this poor thing's name over and over wears on them. It is the worst part of parenting, having to repeat the simplest lessons, over and over again. Repetition breeds contempt.
So today i think it would suck to be a musician. I'm not saying I wouldn't take a few million to do it, but I don't think it would be a walk in the park to do it.
Not just any musician, because frankly, most musicians barely scrape by in which case it doesn't suck fro them to be a musician, it sucks for them to be poor. No, at this moment I firmly believe it sucks to be a famous musician. The reason for this is because they are forced to tour in order to promote new albums, thus drumming up the sales to warrant the lavish trappings of fortune and fame.
This means that they have to play the same damn songs day in and day out for the duration of a tour. Also they have to be interviewed in every city, where they are inevitably asked the same questions. The problem with this, is not that it is boring, but because they have to seem like they are answering these questions for the first time, they have to seem genuine, otherwise it won't sell. Basically they have to lie. I wonder if the sophomore curse isn't simply a subconscious effort on the musicians part to thwart their future touring, thus allowing them to remain genuine, if not obscure.
Why would they hate playing their own songs...you might ask. They created them, and have had strong feelings involved in the making of these songs. And while I agree with you, I am drawn to the plight of the good parent (I say a good parent, because frankly bad parents aren't worth mentioning).
A good parent wants a child. they dream of a child and do their best to be the people who would make good children. They take their time while creating the child, making sure it is created with passion, love, and attention. When the child is brought to fruition, they take the time to mold them, caring for them in their fledgling moments, making them into entities that are important and noteworthy on their own, but also an integral part of a harmonious whole. Even down to their own. I have seen potential parents combing volumes of names, lexicons of appellations, to find the call sign, that will define their crowning achievement.
I have seen these same people want to tear out their own hair when the child is teething. It is not that they don't love their child, but having to repeat this poor thing's name over and over wears on them. It is the worst part of parenting, having to repeat the simplest lessons, over and over again. Repetition breeds contempt.
So today i think it would suck to be a musician. I'm not saying I wouldn't take a few million to do it, but I don't think it would be a walk in the park to do it.
I'm ready to retire
It's official...after being on the workforce unofficially for 7 years, in an officially recognized "career", I am more than ready to retire. I did a dry run recently; people call it a vacation, but since I didn't actually go anywhere, and just did the things I couldn't do while working (i.e: drinking, sleeping in, getting tattoos), so it was much more like retirement than an actual vacation.
I wasn't sure if retirement life was for me though, because after a week spent in an alcoholic haze, I had forgotten what work was like. I was reminded this morning at 6:30 am. You see, one of my anathemas in life is alarm clocks(I have many as I am a pretty cut and dry person. I either love something or it is the bane of my existence...grey areas are for pussies).
I am of the firm belief tht human beings are anaimals, and that anything that detracts from that is inerently wrong. This means that I would ideally eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I am tired, and wake up when i am no longer tired. North American buisiness culture is not designed for this style of life, what with it's long hours short deadlines and preset lunch and break times.
I got to work, on time (necause even though I am against the early hour of work, I am also a punctual person), and was immediately assaulted with 2 weeks worth of catch up work. You see it turns out that running away from your problems doesn't solve them, they are going to be there when you get back, and they usually bring a few friends along for the ride.
So that is a quick synopsis of what's been up with my life. If I don't win the lottery soon, I have 42 more years of work before I'm allowed to retire for real.
Someone please buy me a drink.
I wasn't sure if retirement life was for me though, because after a week spent in an alcoholic haze, I had forgotten what work was like. I was reminded this morning at 6:30 am. You see, one of my anathemas in life is alarm clocks(I have many as I am a pretty cut and dry person. I either love something or it is the bane of my existence...grey areas are for pussies).
I am of the firm belief tht human beings are anaimals, and that anything that detracts from that is inerently wrong. This means that I would ideally eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I am tired, and wake up when i am no longer tired. North American buisiness culture is not designed for this style of life, what with it's long hours short deadlines and preset lunch and break times.
I got to work, on time (necause even though I am against the early hour of work, I am also a punctual person), and was immediately assaulted with 2 weeks worth of catch up work. You see it turns out that running away from your problems doesn't solve them, they are going to be there when you get back, and they usually bring a few friends along for the ride.
So that is a quick synopsis of what's been up with my life. If I don't win the lottery soon, I have 42 more years of work before I'm allowed to retire for real.
Someone please buy me a drink.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
There isn't enough girly shit in my apartment
I am fucked up y'all. I spent the better part of the day preparing to clean, while also thinking up things to write about. I came to two conclusions:
1) Im funnier when trying not to be funny. If I force it, it sucks balls. I will do my best to write daily, some things will be funny, most will not, because Im a pretty serious dude, or at very least I have deep thoughts about shallow subjects.
2) I can't wait for my girlfriend to move in with me. Forget about the fact that Im fucking cheap and spending half on bills as I usually do seems like a good idea. I did some basic math, and combined we make almost 80 G's a year. I haven't graduated college yet (unless my work mandated contract asks, in which case I totally did), but 80 thousand dollars a year= me being debt free and on a beach effin soon.
It's more for the fact that after I did get most of my cleaning done, I realized that my place looks like shit. My nicest furniture was either hand-picked by my girlfriend or given to me by her. She has been in her new apartment for like 1 fucking week, and it already looks 5 times nicer than mine. I have throw-pillow envy.
She has a bit less than a year on her lease, duing which time I will subtly convince her that moving in with me is not only the best option for her, and us as a couple, but actually the only option she has. This will include: Flat out asking, insinuating, offering, begging, pleading, demanding, manipulating, bribery, extortion black-mail, roses, cash, sexual favours, the lack of asking for sexual favours, a ring(?), two rings (for her ears), or just sitting on a chair that is too big for me, kicking my feet and looking lost (don't ask me why this works, but it's cute as all hell, and I can make her do anything when she's in that mushy frame of mind).
I would figure that this is obviously all a joke, and that while I wouldn't mind shacking up with my Girly, I won't do so by any duplicitous means. I want to clarify this, because I don't need another repeat of last week's fiasco (look in the archives http://toinespot.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-stupidmouth.html)
There you haves it, I never thought I'd settle down, and here I am impatiently counting down the days. Lucky me!
1) Im funnier when trying not to be funny. If I force it, it sucks balls. I will do my best to write daily, some things will be funny, most will not, because Im a pretty serious dude, or at very least I have deep thoughts about shallow subjects.
2) I can't wait for my girlfriend to move in with me. Forget about the fact that Im fucking cheap and spending half on bills as I usually do seems like a good idea. I did some basic math, and combined we make almost 80 G's a year. I haven't graduated college yet (unless my work mandated contract asks, in which case I totally did), but 80 thousand dollars a year= me being debt free and on a beach effin soon.
It's more for the fact that after I did get most of my cleaning done, I realized that my place looks like shit. My nicest furniture was either hand-picked by my girlfriend or given to me by her. She has been in her new apartment for like 1 fucking week, and it already looks 5 times nicer than mine. I have throw-pillow envy.
She has a bit less than a year on her lease, duing which time I will subtly convince her that moving in with me is not only the best option for her, and us as a couple, but actually the only option she has. This will include: Flat out asking, insinuating, offering, begging, pleading, demanding, manipulating, bribery, extortion black-mail, roses, cash, sexual favours, the lack of asking for sexual favours, a ring(?), two rings (for her ears), or just sitting on a chair that is too big for me, kicking my feet and looking lost (don't ask me why this works, but it's cute as all hell, and I can make her do anything when she's in that mushy frame of mind).
I would figure that this is obviously all a joke, and that while I wouldn't mind shacking up with my Girly, I won't do so by any duplicitous means. I want to clarify this, because I don't need another repeat of last week's fiasco (look in the archives http://toinespot.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-stupidmouth.html)
There you haves it, I never thought I'd settle down, and here I am impatiently counting down the days. Lucky me!
Monday, June 11, 2007
Random Paranoias
I am a pretty weird guy. They say you are at 8 who you'll be at 80, and if so, that is not a pleasant thought. When I was a little boy, I was no9t very popular. I didn't have many friends, and the ones I did, were not true friends at all. It is in this atmosphere of solitude and betrayal that I developed a few of my charming, and not so charming personality traits. They say admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, if so, hopefully I am on the mend.
I am neurotically paranoid.
If I call someone's cell phone and they don't answer, I immediately feel like they are screening my calls.
If I make plans to go out that fall through with someone twice in a row, I am convinced they want nothing to do with me.
If I walk by complete strangers and they happen to laugh, i am convinced they are laughing at me.
I tell jokes constantly to avoid having people laugh at me directly, as opposed to the things I say.
If I say something that i don't believe to be overly funny (a lead in joke to a funnier punchline) that gets an over-exaggerated amount of laughs, I see the person either as a sycopnat, or as someone who is laughing at me. Both are extremely undesirable.
These are just a few of the random insecurities I have been thinking about lately.
I am neurotically paranoid.
If I call someone's cell phone and they don't answer, I immediately feel like they are screening my calls.
If I make plans to go out that fall through with someone twice in a row, I am convinced they want nothing to do with me.
If I walk by complete strangers and they happen to laugh, i am convinced they are laughing at me.
I tell jokes constantly to avoid having people laugh at me directly, as opposed to the things I say.
If I say something that i don't believe to be overly funny (a lead in joke to a funnier punchline) that gets an over-exaggerated amount of laughs, I see the person either as a sycopnat, or as someone who is laughing at me. Both are extremely undesirable.
These are just a few of the random insecurities I have been thinking about lately.
Friday, June 8, 2007
My Stupid...Mouth?
Man I am a fucking idiot. You know how I used to hit on people randomly, basically anyone that moved? This was an animal instinct. The goal was to throw my nets out as far as possible, so that I had a better chance of reeling someone in. Now that I have landed the right one, I can stop using this method (also I can stop using fishing metaphors). This apparently is easier said than done.
You see, I have always been a rather flirtatious guy, joking around on the bluer side of life. Well I got into a fuckload of trouble yesterday because of it. I was speaking to a friend of mine yesterday, and was joking around about how she had missed her chance to be with me, because I was more than happy witht her girl that I am with (for those of you keeping track, me and Girly have been going strong for going on 4 months now). So far so good, right? I made it abundantly clear that I was taken, and too bad for her. Next I proceed to say if ever I was in the mood for some extra-relationshiop action, I'd give her a ring. Now I'm kind of fucking up right? Upon retrospection I would be inclined to agree, except that I knew what was going on in my head at the time. I know how unlikely this is to happen. It would be like saying whenever I grow 9 inches and learn how to sink a jumpshot under pressure, i'd go sign up for the NBA, I suppose it can be viewed as a truthful claim, but it is so fucking unlikely, that it has to be seen as a joke.
This by itself would not be a problem, except for the fact that I am so unworried about these claims that I kept my msn window open, where my girl just happened to see everything that was written.
After the drag-out fight where she up and left my place while telling me that she didn't even want to look at my face (of course I had no idea why she was upset at the time, maybe I should have stopped what iw as doing when she walked in from work, but im on vacation and was entertaining a buddy of mine, also I was on a breakaway with Crosby on Xbox360).
Now I could have been upset by the fact that she read my personal messages. She sure as hell felt bad for it, but I'm not. This is simply because I don't view anything in my life as being too personal for her. I have no secrets, I'm a good boy.
All this to say that it sucks, because one stupid conversation, taken out of context has fucked everything up. We're still together, she came back later that night, we went out for iced cream, and watched CSI. Now though, I can never have a female friend over alone, without her freaking out. This is cool because I don't have any female friends, but if i did, it would be ruined. The problem is not even that she's insanely jealous, it makes perfect sense, if I was in her position, i'd feel the exact same way. Thge problem is though that I said something dumb that messed up the little trust charm i had going. She says she forgives me, but she doesn't forget. I've seen her watch a movie, and then re-watch it four days later and not remember a lick of it, so im hoping she does forget. This is probably wishful thinking though.
Oh, its another social casualty
Score one more for me
How could I forget?
Mama said think before speaking
No filter in my head.
Oh, whats a boy to do?
I guess he better find one soon
Oh, and sorry for being away so long, I'll do my best to be back. I appreciate all the hate mail asking me to write back. Also the more subtle, "I'm so disappointed"s, you guys are going to guilt the fuck out of your kids, and when they resort to drinking to drown out your voices, they'll still hear me yelling,
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! And I'm taken!
You see, I have always been a rather flirtatious guy, joking around on the bluer side of life. Well I got into a fuckload of trouble yesterday because of it. I was speaking to a friend of mine yesterday, and was joking around about how she had missed her chance to be with me, because I was more than happy witht her girl that I am with (for those of you keeping track, me and Girly have been going strong for going on 4 months now). So far so good, right? I made it abundantly clear that I was taken, and too bad for her. Next I proceed to say if ever I was in the mood for some extra-relationshiop action, I'd give her a ring. Now I'm kind of fucking up right? Upon retrospection I would be inclined to agree, except that I knew what was going on in my head at the time. I know how unlikely this is to happen. It would be like saying whenever I grow 9 inches and learn how to sink a jumpshot under pressure, i'd go sign up for the NBA, I suppose it can be viewed as a truthful claim, but it is so fucking unlikely, that it has to be seen as a joke.
This by itself would not be a problem, except for the fact that I am so unworried about these claims that I kept my msn window open, where my girl just happened to see everything that was written.
After the drag-out fight where she up and left my place while telling me that she didn't even want to look at my face (of course I had no idea why she was upset at the time, maybe I should have stopped what iw as doing when she walked in from work, but im on vacation and was entertaining a buddy of mine, also I was on a breakaway with Crosby on Xbox360).
Now I could have been upset by the fact that she read my personal messages. She sure as hell felt bad for it, but I'm not. This is simply because I don't view anything in my life as being too personal for her. I have no secrets, I'm a good boy.
All this to say that it sucks, because one stupid conversation, taken out of context has fucked everything up. We're still together, she came back later that night, we went out for iced cream, and watched CSI. Now though, I can never have a female friend over alone, without her freaking out. This is cool because I don't have any female friends, but if i did, it would be ruined. The problem is not even that she's insanely jealous, it makes perfect sense, if I was in her position, i'd feel the exact same way. Thge problem is though that I said something dumb that messed up the little trust charm i had going. She says she forgives me, but she doesn't forget. I've seen her watch a movie, and then re-watch it four days later and not remember a lick of it, so im hoping she does forget. This is probably wishful thinking though.
Oh, its another social casualty
Score one more for me
How could I forget?
Mama said think before speaking
No filter in my head.
Oh, whats a boy to do?
I guess he better find one soon
Oh, and sorry for being away so long, I'll do my best to be back. I appreciate all the hate mail asking me to write back. Also the more subtle, "I'm so disappointed"s, you guys are going to guilt the fuck out of your kids, and when they resort to drinking to drown out your voices, they'll still hear me yelling,
Cheers! First round's on...anyone but me! And I'm taken!
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