Old Money and Loose Morals… Pt. 1…

22 04 2010

I know it’s been a considerable amount of time since I’ve written anything. To my fans. I apologize. To people who are new to this blog (assuming there are at least 2 people who stumbled upon this blog based on some pretty messed up search terms, which I have a feeling I’ll blog about some other time) welcome and I hope you enjoy.

I’ve decided that I’ll be trying to write more about my life and it’s current happenings, but have realized that nothing has really been going on. Yes, I’ve had my fair of drama and some ups, and even some pretty decent downs, but overall life has been essentially status quo.

Which, brings me to this particular event in my life.

You see, a couple months ago, my grandpa unfortunately passed away. It was expected and was a relief to my family because he had been fighting for so long. Fast forward to the end of February when my grandmother made a visit to our house. It was her normal hard of hearing catch phrase repeating visit that I didn’t think much of. Until she handed me an envelope. Inside was a check for a substantial amount of money to which I hurriedly tried to return saying I couldn’t take such a thing. She responded that it was indeed from my grandpa. Apparently he had stashed some money away for all his grandchildren. After wiping my eyes free of dust that had built up in the room, I hugged my grandma and said thanks. Inside the envelope was also a note… “Spend it on something fun.”

I know my grandpa. I loved my grandpa. He was awesome. He was also a prankster, a joker, and didn’t take life to seriously. Aside from a tinge of racism and loving fox news my grandpa was a great man who loved life, and wanted his grand kids to do so as well.

With that, I took a couple days to think about what I would spend the money on, and it hit me. I called up RPG in Boston and asked what his ticket situation was like. And sure enough…. within minutes, I had booked a flight and had Opening Day tickets to Red Sox v Yankees at Fenway park. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt that this would be just the type of fun my grandpa had in mind. (Even if he was an Angles fan.)

Morning of my flight came, and I had to board a plane by 730 am so an early wake up time was in store. I had packed my bags the night before and went to sleep. 5 o’clock rolled around and I made my way to the airport.

As I made my way through the security line, I began unraveling in my head what exactly I had packed and what exactly I had put it in. In my travel bag I had packed all my clothes for the journey and a small Victoria Secret shave kit bag, that I had once procured from a girlfriend who bought me Very Sexy the men’s cologne from Vicky’s. (Which by the way does smell amazing, women flock to it, however, with that being said, telling any female what fragrance you’re wearing and where you got not only raises questions, but seem like it completely emasculates you at the same time. Not a winning combo friends.)

So anyway, inside my VS bag was all my toiletries one needs for a trip. They were all placed neatly inside plastic bags just like the FAA wants me to do. If you haven’t been to the airport recently, you know now that all liquids need to be removed from your bag and scanned separately. Which is really not a big deal. And then, it dawned on me. While I removed all the liquids it left only three items remaining in the bag to be scanned through… they were indeed, my razor, my toothbrush, and a condom. (It should be noted that this is the only condom that I didn’t throw away almost an entire year ago. There is no greater indication of how your sex life is going, then writing about the same unused condom from a YEAR ago.)

That’s right. Security Agent Rose, at 6:15 am on a Thursday morning not only got an idea of what was ahead for the weekend, but she knew my intentions as well. Rose looked up from the screen and asked “Where ya headed?” To which I replied “Boston.” She gave me a quizical look that almost wanted to reprimand me right there in the terminal. I took this as a bit of an insult, looked her right in the eye and replied….

“I’m looking for old money, and loose morals. Good day.”

I would like to tell you she laughed, but she didn’t. I re-packed all my stuff and headed down to board my flight. I had prepared my self for the direct flight by stopping by Barnes and Noble the night before and picking up some books. #1 was Everything is Wrong With Me by Jason Mulgrew. #2 was The Lost City of Z. and #3 was Silver.

Now, I don’t do a lot of shilling out for things on this blog. I feel I like things. You like things. We all go about our business. However, this is a rare occasion. You see, Jason Mulgrew has written a blog for many years. Many of these years I have followed his blog and laughed. And cried (not really that’s for pussies.) Questioned my life existence and over all enjoyed most of his works. So when I read that he was releasing a book, I knew this would be the perfect time to, not only read it, but hope that one of his hot female blog readers would see me reading it, and we’d strike a bond, and I’d be sitting pretty in the Mile High Club in no time.

The Mile High portion of the previous paragraph, sadly, did not come to fruition. However the reading of the entire book on my flight did. And I gotta say friends… it was AWESOME! It was some of the funniest stuff I’ve read in a long time. I like to think I’m funny, (and if you’ve read this long I’m assuming you may too) but sometimes I feel my humor pales in comparison to what was published in this book. At one point, on a plane I was crying I was laughing so hard. Which, I’m sure was awkward for the dude next to me. Like I said, if you enjoy my humor, you’ll love this book. Go get it.

Alright enough with the shilling out… (and ps, if you didn’t like it, deal. It’s my fucking blog I’ll do what I want.)

I touchdown into Boston and a gorgeous day and was quickly picked up by RPG and whisked off to his Alumni Association first Thursday event, which really is just a bunch of people who went to college and now have real jobs, come back to get bombed at. Which as I vaguely remember my college days is the only reason Thursdays existed anyway. The drinking began at roughly 445pm. Please make note of this. I filled RPG in on the goings on around the great Northwest. How so and so is married, and how so and so is having a kid, and how so and so is still a slut (that’s right chick in my Communications class I’m calling you out!) After some time RPG’s friends with real jobs started to show up and the general merriment was under way. Drinks were flowing conversation was great, there was even some dude selling his special musical instruments that he brings to all the events.

This is also where I met KC. Now, I had only talked with KC a couple times before meeting her. At one point there was discussion on me potentially moving to Boston. KC told RPG that she indeed had a room to rent, and at the time, it was something I highly considered. KC and I chatted a bit, and she gave me the go ahead that I could indeed move in AND I could have threesomes. I felt like our friendship was going to be long lasting. (Let it be known, that while I was allowed to have threesomes had I moved in, KC is way to classy for these types of shenanigans, and I would have to procure the 2 other girls for said threesomes on my own.)

Also, let it be known that during this time, there were a LOT of Jack and Cokes being had. If I had to venture a guess… I’d put it at around 7. Rough estimate.

We left the shindig to make our way to another bar. We knew the night was coming to a close, and seeing as it was still a Thursday, people had jobs to do in the morning. However, RPG was like fucking Lewis and Clark blazing the trail to the next bar. And so we went. Went to a place right near RPG’s condo, found a seat at the bar, and attempted to give our livers sclerosis right then and there. I’m not sure at what point I decided this, but I had begun to drink straight Jack with just some ice cubes. Not one of my wisest decisions, but after say 6 more of those, things got a little hazy. And by hazy I mean completely fucking black….

If someone were to say, “hey, I’ll give you a million dollars if you can tell me A.How you got home that night? and B.Who you called that night? I’d really be out a million dollars, cause I would have had no clue. (Most these answers came to light the next day… )

Speaking of the next day, it was about this time where I thought I had lost my iPhone. Again. Yes you read that right I would have been 2 for 2 on trips to Boston and losing an iPhone. I awoke in a panic realizing I had no idea where my iPhone was. I scoured the apartment. I looked for the electrical outlet I had used last time and it wasn’t there. This is apparently where the cold sweats began. With my quick thinking I raced to my bag to see if the charger had been left in there, along with my iPhone. Apparently not. The bag was without cord or charger or phone. Fuck. It was about this time that I made one last ditch effort. I completely removed all the sheets from the bed only to find that right about where my groin area would have passed out all night, was exactly where my phone was. Which lead to a couple conclusions. #1. I wasn’t drunk texting or dialing. #2. Drunk me was smart enough to put it in a safe place. #3. I spooned my iPhone all night long. You’d think I’d be ashamed of #3, but I’m not. Not even at all.

After that whole ordeal with thinking I’d lost an iPhone again, I quickly realized my motor skills were a bit off. Really off, actually. It took roughly 5 minutes with my diminished brain capacity to realize that I was indeed, still drunk. And not just a bit boys and girls, I’m talking speech slurred, got the spins, not ready to face the day drunk. My apologies to those of you on the west coast that I texted so early in the morning. In addition to the spins, and slurred speech, math was apparently lost on me as well.

I got up, poured myself a glass of water, and essentially waited for RPG to call to finalize the itinerary for the day. (What this sentence should have really read was…. I got up, found myself a couch pillow, drank some water and watched Khloe and Kourtney Kardashian for 3 hours straight. However, I felt that sentence was a bit to emasculating. However, I top that 100 times over later in the weekend.)

To Be Continued…

Until Next Time

Email Me
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com

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Gym Rat, March Madness, Job Hunting…

24 03 2008

So as it turns out, I’ve officially gone one full week with going to the gym. It’s pretty crazy I know. I never really thought I’d have it in me to do so, but low and behold I’m knocking out mile after mile. I surprise even myself sometimes.

Friday morning I found myself waking up just a little bit early to make sure I made it to the gym and downtown to watch some March Madness with my friends. First game on tap is Gonzaga, and of course I have them to win. Ever since I was back in college and the girl I was dating at the time was good friends with some of the players, I have been a fan. Of course it didn’t hurt that that was the first year they went really far in the tournament. The team of Matt Santangelo, Casey Calvary, etc etc…

Anyway, so I proceed to the gym knowing full well, that if I get my workout done I’ll be home by halftime, shower, then on the Buffalo Wild Wings. So I find a treadmill crank it up, and look above to find a television with the game on it. When low and behold I get nothing!!! Stupid Obama was in town talking about something and they didn’t have the game on! WTF??? Who does that? What political leader in their right mind would pre-empt March Madness? I mean, he filled out a bracket. Wasn’t he concerned of the outcome? Did this not affect the outcome of his office pool? Seriously. Frustrating.

Obama finished his speech and the game returned, and all was well with the world. Aside from the shooting pains in my calf muscle. I finished up my work out, got all dolled up, and went down to BW3. My timing in my head must have been off, because I ended up listening to Gonzaga lose at the buzzer on my car radio. How dissapointed was I. Not only did I miss the game, I had to listen to them lose and crush my bracket just a little bit more. Which ultimately brings me to my next point.

I hate March Madness.

Well I don’t hate it. I mean I do, I just, wish it didn’t leave me feeling so empty. I’m reminded of Matt Damon’s character Mike in Rounders. You know the scene in the beginning where Mike knows he’s won, he’s a sure bet, and Teddy KGB sucker punches him in the gut with pocket Aces?? That’s pretty much how I feel by Sunday afternoon. Sucker punched in the gut, cause I know some friend of mine’s girlfriend is the one cleaning up our Bracket competition. All because she thought “Davidson Red looks good on me.” Son of a bitch.

I’d go more into depth on the whole bracket situation, but I’m pretty much done. At this point my saving grace is UCLA, North Carolina, and Memphis. But with my luck, they’ll all lose. Needless to say I won’t be that interested in the “Madness” until the championship game.

I’ve still got a lot of time on my hands, becuase I’m still looking for a job. And you know what else I hate…. pretty sure you all saw it coming, that’s right looking for a job. I seriously hate it. It’s good to know that I’m trying to find a job during a period of really shitty economy. That’s awesome.

Seriously though. I think one of the things I hate the most is a cover letter. What is the REAL point of a cover letter. I mean I get it’s purpose, to lobby for a job, to make yourself look better. But in all reality it’s just 3 more paragraphs that are more than likely going to expose you for the faker you really are. Cause in all honestly how many of us bend what our “experience” is to “job requirements?” I know I do. And I guess I have to really. Telling people in the real world exactly what I did isn’t easy with a little one page resume. And trust me when I say having Music Director on your resume doesn’t actually lend itself to to many opportunities. So with that, I decided to write a cover letter informing potential employers just how freakin awesome I am. More than likely, this will not work.

Big news though. Red Sox (and all of baseball) opening day is Tuesday morning at 3 am. Diasuke Matsusaka starts things off against Rich Harden of the Oakland A’s. I’m really kind of nervous though this year. I know we have a great group of really talented players, but I’m pretty sure the kiss of death came when I logged onto ESPN.com this morning. There it was on the front page no less. Baseball experts have picked the Sox as the “favorite” to win this year.

Ugh.

If you’re a real Sox fan you’ll already know that this can’t really bode well for our team. We’ve seen stuff like this before. We’ve never wanted to be the favorite. We like surprising people with our hard work and heart (04). We like overcoming odds, we like fighting and clawing our way back for the win (07). Most of all We Sox always, ALWAYS, have trepidation in our heart, because we know in a single fleeting second we can see it all crumble before our eyes. I spent all of last year keeping my mouth shut when we were 14 games ahead in the AL east. I kept my mouth shut when we were down 3-1 in the ALCS. I kept my faith at an all time high at every one of those pivotal points and I was rewarded. Now, I feel as if the black curse of death has been placed on my beloved Sox. Apox on you ESPN! APOX ON YOU!!!!!!!

But, wether or not the Sox are in first or in last, I will always be a proud member of Red Sox Nation. Go Sox!

Lastly, in keeping with my love affair of movies, I got some really great ones from Netflix this week. Michael Clayton, No Country For Old Men, Cashback, and some others. I just want so say that No Country, and Michael Clayton were as good as the nominations that followed. They were awesome. No Country was an amazing thriller with unforgetable characters provided by the Coen Brothers who are fantastic! Michael Clayton had a stellar cast that brought this intense drama to life. I highly reccomend both movies! Cashback… eh. It was alright.