There was a certain sense of excitement at Steak-Palace last night.
I was really looking forward to hanging out with the boy after work, and not for the usual reasons. I was excited to see him and find out how his week has been. I was surprised to see he was just as excited as I was.
It is no secret that I like him, even though he has inquired several times, I usually just laugh it off or quickly change the subject matter. There are plenty of reasons why he is probably not a very good choice for a lover: He's very young, into the perception that everyone has of him and is still dating several girls.
That should have been more then enough reason for me to turn and run away in the opposite direction—it wasn't.
After several beers and the usual small talk, we made our way back to my place to smoke some greens and get some sleep. Cut to staying up until 4:30 in the morning laughing—no sex. That's right, six dates, and no sex... this is unusual enough in the straight world, never mind the land of the gays.
I suppose it is for the best anyway, young and virile is great in theory— but sometimes just a little too hard to invest in.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Morning Glory
This morning I awoke to a composed Italian man rushing around late for a yoga class, and a severe headache. Why does one drink so often turn into several and a shooter? Why did I see it fitting to consume a twenty ounce steak, potatoes, and ice cream for dessert?
With the help of painkillers, the crazy man playing the bongos in my head silenced, my face lost it's redness and I started to piece the night back together in my head. Luckily I was on the home front, so I was spared the ever beautiful walk of shame.
There is nothing quite like making your way home after a night out on the town. I would like to think of myself as a champion of said walks, I now carry sunglasses in my bag at all times.
I remember one morning a few years ago, I woke up at Mr. Whomever's, collected my things, ran some of his expensive pommade through my hair and called my friend, I was NOT making it home on my own. My head was pounding, my stomach was turning and I was in dire need of advil, he apparently thought that painkillers were bad for your health, over-priced Vodka however, is now apparently it's own food group on the nutrition chart.
My friend shows up, post bikini-wax, bright eyes and bushy tailed, well not so much bushy tailed anymore, but you get the picture. Ready to conquer the day, she informs me of the few errands she has to run on the way to my place, pausing only to laugh at my misfortune.
Cut to three hours of being carted around the city on a sunny summmer's day. After the grocery store, pharmacy, and carwash (yes the bitch thought it was a great time to clean the car, and even found it appropriate to vaccum the floor mats, while they were still in the car), we made our way to her father's house so she could pick up some old magazines for her next collage.
Her father couldn't even look me in the face as I stood in the hallway leaning against the wall with giant sunglasses stuck to my head.
It was on that day I decided that my late-night rendezvous encounters should always see me ending up at home before 5 am.
With the help of painkillers, the crazy man playing the bongos in my head silenced, my face lost it's redness and I started to piece the night back together in my head. Luckily I was on the home front, so I was spared the ever beautiful walk of shame.
There is nothing quite like making your way home after a night out on the town. I would like to think of myself as a champion of said walks, I now carry sunglasses in my bag at all times.
I remember one morning a few years ago, I woke up at Mr. Whomever's, collected my things, ran some of his expensive pommade through my hair and called my friend, I was NOT making it home on my own. My head was pounding, my stomach was turning and I was in dire need of advil, he apparently thought that painkillers were bad for your health, over-priced Vodka however, is now apparently it's own food group on the nutrition chart.
My friend shows up, post bikini-wax, bright eyes and bushy tailed, well not so much bushy tailed anymore, but you get the picture. Ready to conquer the day, she informs me of the few errands she has to run on the way to my place, pausing only to laugh at my misfortune.
Cut to three hours of being carted around the city on a sunny summmer's day. After the grocery store, pharmacy, and carwash (yes the bitch thought it was a great time to clean the car, and even found it appropriate to vaccum the floor mats, while they were still in the car), we made our way to her father's house so she could pick up some old magazines for her next collage.
Her father couldn't even look me in the face as I stood in the hallway leaning against the wall with giant sunglasses stuck to my head.
It was on that day I decided that my late-night rendezvous encounters should always see me ending up at home before 5 am.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Neuroticism
Those who score high on neuroticism may experience negative feeling such as anxiety, anger, or depression. People with high levels are emotionally reactive to events that would not affect most people with reactions that tend to be more intense than others. They are more likely to interpret ordinary situations as threatening, and minor frustrations as hopelessly difficult. My score: 103.75 %
What's yours?
Thoughts?
The night was spent at Steak Palace assisting in providing the city with red meat and booze. I swear that it's Jesus' second stop on his Return to Earth World Tour, right after the Circus Circus Casino. I have never experienced so much debauchery, and it gets worse; it seems the norm. Oil and Gas "professionals" letting loose like it's some sort of frat party or recess depending on if it's dinner or lunch.
I have never laughed so hard in my life. Some servers get really pissed off about having demanding customers... I fucking love snotty customers... especially over the 'really nice 10 percenting cheapo's who mean well.' The snoots always have some kind of personality disorder, desired social status and addiction not to mention a platinum amex. It's the perfect storm when I'm putting on the dinner and a show. You can't be rude to really nice customers, it's poor form, even when they start with the requested menu modifications and 10 % tips, they will be the first to file a complaint, the fuckers.
The rude ones never want to suggest that they were being an asshole in the first place, so you simply have to stay within the boundaries... I try not to roll my eyes directly in eyesight of all of the guests, but I make sure that someone at the table notices, "he just rolled his eyes, did you see that?" PRICELESS.
If it's a table of 6 or more, always make friends with several of the prettier women, one man and one ugly chick, love the ugly chick, romance the ugly chick. Don't waste all of your time with the host of the party. It's a waste of valuable time, they already want to take all of the credit and are willing to pay for this 'experience.' And if you start the one-man show for them, they will all of a sudden be directing it, and to HELL with that.
Maybe I will become a psychologist/hooker, I apparently fair well when getting paid to fuck with people.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Dating
THE PERSONAL AD:
Single, gay male, masculine in thought, but very excitable. Looking for like-minded man 19-30, for late dinners, red wine and vacations. Please like to cuddle, but be able to give me space when I desire.
I usually know my fate in any social situation, I can tell when someone does not find me entertaining, I can tell when I have said too much and I always know when I have offended someone. I am never scared of pissing someone off or "waking someone up," but one thing I have yet to understand is the rule-book of dating.
The demise of any relationship is always a sad affair, but it can so easily turn from sad to pathetic.
I have a habit of building people up in my mind when in actuality they are train-wrecks I should have seen coming.
I can change him, he is only playing hard-to-get, it's all just a test.... lies lies lies.
Do I call him or text him back immediately? Do I let him choose the restaurant and wine? Do I pretend to be interested in topics that I so obviously am not down with? Expending all of that energy wondering if he is the one that will sweep me off my feet can be exhausting, and usually leads to me wondering if I am supposed to be living in this crazy city after-all.
Entering relationships with an "all or nothing" approach usually leads to me feeling frantic when I first wake up in the morning with a stoner's smile, a smoker's cough and drunk's passion to include the full shot of Baileys in my tiny cup of coffee.
Why do we care whether or not he likes us back? Why is it so easy to fall in love and not the other way around? I was once encouraged to list the things that I want in a lover, and upon review I realized that I usually lower my standards due to the fear... the fear of being alone.
The crush: That guy who catches all of my attention just by being in the same room as me. He is generally good-looking, charming and educated. I start to play out the situation in my mind and before you know it I all all but cooked with desire and the mind-games begin. In my life the brain-fucks should be an Olympic event.
The Usual Suspects:
a) Mr. Has-his-shit-together: Finished with school and loans paid off in full. A nice condo downtown and a well-paying job in which he helps other people. The end result "I don't think this is going to work out, we are clearly in separate places in our lives."
b) The Kid: Figuring out his place in the world, asking questions and open to most situations.. the breakdown: "I'm not ready for a commitment, I think that I need to figure out more about myself, it was great while it lasted, cheers."
c) Mr. Mirror-image: He loves to travel, keeps a journal and always provokes conversation, he is disassociated with his body and has regrets mixed with anxiety. The breakup is always a disaster, and not just crying and talking to your best friend until three in the morning, this is a vodka induced, drunk dialing, facebook-creeping, weed smoking marathon of pathetic. Game Over & Restraining Order.
Single, gay male, masculine in thought, but very excitable. Looking for like-minded man 19-30, for late dinners, red wine and vacations. Please like to cuddle, but be able to give me space when I desire.
I usually know my fate in any social situation, I can tell when someone does not find me entertaining, I can tell when I have said too much and I always know when I have offended someone. I am never scared of pissing someone off or "waking someone up," but one thing I have yet to understand is the rule-book of dating.
The demise of any relationship is always a sad affair, but it can so easily turn from sad to pathetic.
I have a habit of building people up in my mind when in actuality they are train-wrecks I should have seen coming.
I can change him, he is only playing hard-to-get, it's all just a test.... lies lies lies.
Do I call him or text him back immediately? Do I let him choose the restaurant and wine? Do I pretend to be interested in topics that I so obviously am not down with? Expending all of that energy wondering if he is the one that will sweep me off my feet can be exhausting, and usually leads to me wondering if I am supposed to be living in this crazy city after-all.
Entering relationships with an "all or nothing" approach usually leads to me feeling frantic when I first wake up in the morning with a stoner's smile, a smoker's cough and drunk's passion to include the full shot of Baileys in my tiny cup of coffee.
Why do we care whether or not he likes us back? Why is it so easy to fall in love and not the other way around? I was once encouraged to list the things that I want in a lover, and upon review I realized that I usually lower my standards due to the fear... the fear of being alone.
The crush: That guy who catches all of my attention just by being in the same room as me. He is generally good-looking, charming and educated. I start to play out the situation in my mind and before you know it I all all but cooked with desire and the mind-games begin. In my life the brain-fucks should be an Olympic event.
The Usual Suspects:
a) Mr. Has-his-shit-together: Finished with school and loans paid off in full. A nice condo downtown and a well-paying job in which he helps other people. The end result "I don't think this is going to work out, we are clearly in separate places in our lives."
b) The Kid: Figuring out his place in the world, asking questions and open to most situations.. the breakdown: "I'm not ready for a commitment, I think that I need to figure out more about myself, it was great while it lasted, cheers."
c) Mr. Mirror-image: He loves to travel, keeps a journal and always provokes conversation, he is disassociated with his body and has regrets mixed with anxiety. The breakup is always a disaster, and not just crying and talking to your best friend until three in the morning, this is a vodka induced, drunk dialing, facebook-creeping, weed smoking marathon of pathetic. Game Over & Restraining Order.
An introduction is impossible.
How many words could I really use to express who I am?
What's on my ipod? What do I want to be when I grow up? Where did I get this attitude from?
I am nearly twenty-five, and have no idea what it is that I was meant to do in this life. I like to drink and talk shit with my friends, I love wearing sunglasses and have a passion for controversy. I also tend to pop and fly off at the mouth at every opportunity. Currently I am waiting tables at a downtown steakhouse, where I get to deal with an insane amount of crazy people. Serving tables can be overwhelming and is defiantly NOT for the weak at heart. I have been blessed with plenty of amazing friends, and am single by choice. I spend the day working on the book I have been writing for a while now, and day dreaming. There is a boy in my life right now that I really like, and I am always in my element when I have some scheme up my sleeve.
Today I met with the magazine staff and was instructed by the lovely editor to start this blog. I don't know what I will writing about, chances are it will end up being an extension of my journal, maybe a random drunk post or two.
The confessions of an advanced drinker and over thinker begins today.
Thoughts?
What's on my ipod? What do I want to be when I grow up? Where did I get this attitude from?
I am nearly twenty-five, and have no idea what it is that I was meant to do in this life. I like to drink and talk shit with my friends, I love wearing sunglasses and have a passion for controversy. I also tend to pop and fly off at the mouth at every opportunity. Currently I am waiting tables at a downtown steakhouse, where I get to deal with an insane amount of crazy people. Serving tables can be overwhelming and is defiantly NOT for the weak at heart. I have been blessed with plenty of amazing friends, and am single by choice. I spend the day working on the book I have been writing for a while now, and day dreaming. There is a boy in my life right now that I really like, and I am always in my element when I have some scheme up my sleeve.
Today I met with the magazine staff and was instructed by the lovely editor to start this blog. I don't know what I will writing about, chances are it will end up being an extension of my journal, maybe a random drunk post or two.
The confessions of an advanced drinker and over thinker begins today.
Thoughts?
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