Six Months... And Counting!

Enough apologies. I will start writing about the trip to Portland... ish. Me and the BF were scheduled to fly out to Portland on our sixth month anniversary. I showed up at his house promptly at around ten or eleven in the morning. Our flight was not until two in the afternoon but the BF likes getting to the airport two hours in advance. Just in case. I was still early enough that we had a chance to go out to brunch and to exchange gifts. I know, six months does not seem like a gift day but, at that moment, it was the longest we had been together and we felt the occassion merited presents. I won't bore you with the details of my present but will tell you that I received a beautiful decoration owl. If you think there is something out there that would say happy six month anniversary better than an owl, you obviously don't know me that well. Anyway, around noon, we headed over to the airport so the adventure could begin.

Before the adventure can begin, I must inform you of a small situation that happened a few weeks before the trip. I think I have mentioned before that the BF travels a lot for work. Because of that, he was able to book the two flights for a very, very, ridiculously low price by using points. On top of that, we had decided to get a rental car while we were in Portland and he was able to get one at an incredibly affordable price thanks to points too. At this point, I felt like I was taking advantage of his generosity. That's why I decided to pay for the hotel. I figured it was the least that I could do. We were looking around for hotels near the area where my friends live. There was a local hotel called Aladdin Inn within half a mile of my friend's house. This, to me, seemed ideal as the closer to my friends the hotel was, the better it was for me. We tentatively decided on that one but we didn't book anything. A few days later, I was talking to the BF on the phone and he informed me that he went ahead and booked a hotel. I asked which hotel and he said he had booked a different hotel about five miles away from where Hillary and Zeke lived. I was a bit upset. He thought I was upset because of the price difference since the new hotel was a chain hotel and about fifty bucks a night more expensive. I told him that it was not the price, or at least not just the price, that upset me but that he would make that decision without consulting me. He said that the other hotel looked shady, which it did, and that he felt safer at the other one. I told him that that was all well and good, but he should have let me know beforehand instead of going behind my back. Why do I tell you all this? I have a point, believe me. I will make it later.

Back to the begginging of the adventure. We got to the airport and I let him take care of all the details about getting the tickets and going through security. Btw, I hated going through security. It felt invasive... and not in a good way. I mean, I had to take my shoes off, and I don't like doing that, and I didn't even get a patdown. It was very disappointing. The airport was kind of boring but that changed the minute we had to board. I started getting a bit nervous as I had only flown once before and I did not really remember it that well. The BF gave me my boarding pass and told me that they were going to scan it at the gate but to hold on to it. I said ok. I am following him and I see that they are taking the board passes and not just scanning them. Before I get a chance to ask him about that, he hands his pass to the attendant and walks down the gate. At that moment, I figure I might as well just hand over the pass since everyone else is doing so, but I still had some misgivings. I come to find out that the reason the BF left me behind was that Zeke had asked us to bring his guitar to Portland and the BF was letting me carry it on because he was not sure if it qualified as a carry-on and he did not want to deal with that. I was not happy when I found out about that. Fortunately, guitars apparently qualify as carry-ons because there was no incident. We have a seat and get ready for take off and I am decidedly more nervous. The BF has pulled out a book and is attempting to read it. I say attempting because I keep reading over his shoulder and asking questions and just generally bugging him. He then tells me that he hopes I don't get motion sickness as it tends to happen to some people. At this point, I am very grateful that he informed me, a confirmed psychosomatic, of this little detail as I was sure to get motion sick now. The plane started taxiing and I get even more nervous, not to mention a bit nauseated, so I ramp up my rambling conversation and intrusion into his book reading. I am debating whether or not my life should be flashing before my eyes but I can't quite decide. I felt the way I feel when I am being carried up the first big drop of a rollercoaster and all I can hear is the chains clink as I ascend higher and higher. In the midst of my panic, the BF turns to me and plainly and clearly states, "I am never flying with children." I am not gonna say that I was happy with that comment but, let me tell you, anger does wonder to calm your nerves. I focused my gaze on an open window and just enjoyed the view while I worked on slowing my breathing and calming down. I still think I did great on the flight for a guy that does not like heights and has control issues, regardless of what the BF said.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. I took out my copy of 1984 which I was trying to finish. I failed at my attempt to finish it but it kept me busy even if it almost put me to sleep. After we landed, we got into the rental car and we started driving towards the hotel. I am so grateful we live in an age that has GPS. I did notice though that the address the BF put into the GPS was not the address for the hotel we were staying at. Here's where that second paragraph comes into play. I had asked Hillary and Zeke if we could meet Thursday instead of Wednesday so that I could spend the anniversary with the BF. They had agreed and that is why the BF booked the hotel without tellling me. He had booked the one that was five miles away for the rest of the stay, but he had gotten a hotel in downtown Portland next to the river for that first night. It was really romantic, actually, which made me feel a bit bad about giving him such a hard time before.

We checked into the hotel and this is the view out our room window,

Forgive the glass glare, or, enjoy the BF's selfie. Whichever caption you prefer.

It was a very beautiful sight. That night, when I got up to have a drink of water, the moon was reflecting off the surface of the river and shining upon a white boat. It was a very pretty sight and I thought of taking a picture but then decided that I would just go to bed and keep that image to myself. I am selfish like that.

That evening, we went walking around Portland and my aversion to bikers and runners started, but more on that later. At that point, I was not bothered by the bikers yet. We found this pub and decided to have dinner there. We walked in and saw what I imagine heaven would look like if it existed.

That wall contains more than 600 different kinds of bottles of liquor. As I said before, heaven!

 It was supposed to be an authentic Irish pub, and the menu informed us that it holds the world record for the biggest Irish coffee. I ordered me some sheppherd's pie that closely resembled Mexican ground beef stew and had vegetables in it that I had never heard of before or since because I just spent ten minutes trying to remember what vegetable the BF told me was in it and I can't remember it. I think it was rhubarb but I want to say that's wrong. Regardless, it was ok and had freaky vegetables on it. Afterwards, we walked along the waterfront and saw one of the drawbridges rise. I asked the BF to take a picture of it but he was too slow and looking elsewhere and he missed it. Drawbridges aren't quick, mind you. He was just really focused on something that he thought was a boat but turned out to be a pillar for one of the other bridges. He IS smart, y'all. I don't know why I felt the need to write that but I think that sometimes I paint a less than flattering portrait of him. It's just that it's the blond moments he has that make him special, not shortbus special mind you, and funny and that I share with you.

After that, we had a few drinks at the hotel bar before retiring early as it had been a long day and we had to meet with Hillary and Zeke the next day. I shall stop for now as I don't want to write all about Portland in a single post and because I only have twenty minutes to edit this before it posts. Talk to you all next week.

Procrastination Continuation, or, The Good Night

So, I know I should be writing about my trip to Portland before I forget but I have a feeling that writing all that will take forever and I just haven't had time to sit down and start writing everything. However, this post will not be a last minute post like the last two have been. I actually have a story to tell this time and I am writing it a couple of days in advance. Now, the story I am about to tell may not be the greatest story but I am sure it will do. Before we get to the actual story, though, I will give you some background.

I have a tendency to enjoy the darker side of human emotions. It doesn't make much sense to most people but it does to me and that is all that matters. It's actually kind of hard for me to get depressed because, as soon as I realize that I am depressed, I get excited about it which alleviates the depression. I still try my hardest to be be depressed as I believe that the whole gambit of human emotions are to be experienced and, dare I say, enjoyed as they are what makes us human. Along these same lines, I tend to enjoy when things go horribly awry. I don't like the middle ground as I prefer the extremes. Things either have to go perfect, or near perfect, or terribly wrong for me to enjoy them. If only a few things go wrong, it just ruins it for me and I get annoyed. However, if nothing or everything goes wrong, I tend to enjoy it. Point in case, a few weeks back the BF and I were going to watch a movie. That's not relevant so don't pay it any attention. Before the movie, we decided to have a bite to eat. We were not too hungry so we decided to just go to Subway. Now, my favorite Subway sandwich is the foot-long meatball sub on jalapeno cheddar bread with pepper jack cheese, olives, a little bit of onions and Parmesan cheese. You don't need to know all that. All you have to know is that I like the meatball sub. We arrived at the Subway closest to the movie theater and the BF, being a gentleman, let me go first. Mainly because I don't let anything or anyone stand between me and my food. It was a Saturday night which apparently is a slow night at Subways because there was only one employee. I ordered my sandwich and the sandwich artist, their preferred title, informed us that this was his second day on the job. He asked me if I wanted my sandwich toasted and I answered with a resounding, "Yes, please." I know that does not sound resounding but believe me when I tell you that it resounded the way I said it. He put my sub in the toaster oven and he started making a second meatball sandwich for the BF whose choice had been influenced by my own. The toaster timer went off. I looked at the sandwich artisan but he did not seem too concerned by it as he continued making the BF's sub. The toaster timer went off again and a creeping suspicion that something was off spawned within me. The sub virtuoso did not seem at all concerned though so I chalked it up to my paranoia. When the Subway handicrafter finished fixing the BF's sandwich and opened the door to the toaster to switch subs, we noticed that mine had been burnt. The poor guy got all flustered and apologized about the burnt sandwich and offered to make me a new one. I happily agreed and he started making a second sandwich for me after he put the BF's sub in the toaster. This is when he realized that he did not have enough meatballs to make another sub. Unfortunately, this was after he had already spread marinara sauce all over the bread. He apologized one more time and I just told him to make me a different sandwich that would go with marinara sauce. At that point the toaster timer went off but the sub creator's attitude towards that ringing bell continued to be very blasé.  I helpfully pointed out that the timer had gone out and he replied that the oven would stop heating by itself. Seeing as to how my first sub had burned I insisted that he open the toaster door and we found the BF's sub crisper than was expected but, thankfully, not burnt. The sandwich maker then asked if I wanted my new sandwich toasted and I replied with a kind, but emphatic, "No, thank you." At this point, I could tell that the whole situation was unnerving the BF. The sandwich artiste had already finished making the BF's sandwich so I asked the BF to find a table, which wasn't hard to do on the nigh empty diner, and to get our drinks while my sub was finished. With the BF gone and my sandwich completed, the sub composer/cashier/only employee proceeded to ring me up. I handed over my card and when I got my receipt back I realized that he had overcharged me. He had charged me for three drinks and we only really needed two what with the free refills and all. At this moment, I could not feel worse for the guy if I tried. He had a few other people waiting to be helped and he did not know how to fix my ticket and, when he tried calling his manager, his call went to voicemail. He kept apologizing and offering me some cookies in exchange for the drink price. I just smiled, declined his cookie offer as we really did not want any cookies, and instructed him to just give the extra drink to the people waiting in line behind us. He thanked me with a sheepish lopsided smile of relief and hurried over to help the next customers. I grabbed my sandwich and headed over to the table the BF had chosen and sat down. He looked up at me and asked me why I was smiling and I told him that I had really enjoyed my Subway experience. When he asked me why I told him that it was not because it made me feel superior, it's not that at all (really!!!), but because it reminded me that people were still human and that we, as humans, can cause hiccups and disrupt even the most streamlined designs that scientific management can throw our way. In a way, it reminds me that mistakes are what makes us human and they remind me that we are alive. I don't think he really quite got it. I think he usually thinks I am crazy and just goes along for the ride because it is easier than arguing with crazy. But, there is a method to my madness, or, at the very least, I have to believe that.

Why did I tell y'all that story? Was that the whole point of this post? Maybe, but no. Not at all. We are just getting started, so, buckle up. The reason I mentioned that story is so that you can maybe understand my frame of mind yesterday night which could possibly be considered a very bad night. It all started with a horrible week. It had been a terrible week at work. I was actually having to work and I am a strong believer that my current employers are paying me enough to show up everyday and work every once in a while, but I am not getting paid enough to actually work all day, everyday. So, last night, after I got off work, I had a plan. Let me set it up for you bullet point-style,

• I was going to go to the store after work to pick up some wasp spray as they were building a new nest right outside my door.
• I was going to go home and change into shorts and a t-shirt in order to go into the very hot shed and look for a post-hole digger Dad wanted and that Sister would take to him on Friday.
• I was going to spray the wasps with the recently acquired wasp spray.
• I was going to have some dinner.
• I was going to do dishes and clean the kitchen.
• I was going to clean my room and bathroom.
• I was going to take out the trash as Thursdays are trash day which I made clear in a previous post.
• I was going to take a shower.
• I was going to watch an episode of Supernatural.
• I was going to go to sleep.

I had everything planned. I had even planned a bowel movement but figured I would leave that out of the list for the sake of decency. The best laid plans... though. At first, it started out smoothly. I went to the store and bought two cans of wasp spray. One to use that day and another just in case I they decided to build a new nest again. I would have made a great boy scout since I am always prepared except for their whole anti-gay agenda of course. I also bought stuff to make sandwiches because that sounded good for dinner. I even bought some bolillos, a type of Mexican bread, and some avocado. I digressed from the plan a bit, but I had to have something for dinner so I did not feel that bad about it. Usually, it is when I get home that I abandon all plans I have made for the evening and end up just watching TV. Not yesterday though. I got home and, since I was not hungry yet, decided to change and head out to the shed. I grabbed the keys to the shed and locked the door behind me. I, however, failed to grab my house keys, a mistake I realized the moment the door clicked shut behind me. I don't have an extra key. I used to have a key hidden outside but we changed our locks about a year ago and I never hid another copy. My first instinct was to panic. Then I realized that the Old Man should come back soon. The time was around 6:30 pm and he can't drive in the dark so he should be home before sunset. With that in mind, I decided to head to the shed to get the post-hole digger. The temperature yesterday was over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It was a lot hotter inside that shed. On top of that, and despite the many wonderful qualities Dad possesses, being organized is not one of Dad's strong points. He tends to hoard stuff, which has worked to our advantage before, but without an organizational schematic, that shed, to continue quoting The Big Bang Theory, was a swirling vortex of entropy. Scratch that. It was a sweltering, fever-inducing, blister-creating swirling vortex of entropy. In Dad's defense, he did have all his shovels and long-handled tools in the same area in the back. In Dad's offense, if that is how you say it as I am not clear on the correct terminology, there was no clear path to them. At one point I was stepping on a lawnmower while straddling a bicycle and using a crutch to try and move the handle of the digger within arm distance. Needless to say, a misstep would have been a very painful, and dangerous, development. After about fifteen to twenty minutes of acrobatic feats the likes of which I never thought myself capable of achieving, I was standing outside the shed with the post-hole digger in hand. I felt accomplished. At least I did until I remembered I was locked outside of the house. Then the wait began.

The Old Man has a cell number but I did not want to disrupt his evening with my stupidity. I went back to the porch and, being careful to avoid the wasps, had a seat in a white plastic chair and started waiting. I realized that I may have to cut my to-do list down depending on what time the Old Man made it back. I figured I would still be able to get the wasp nest because that way I could spray it after the Old Man went inside and that way he would not be exposed to the harsh chemicals. The bottle even recommended that one spray in the evening when the wasps are less active. I figure I could at least get that done and then get at least some of the cleaning done. While I was waiting, I decided to play Candy Crush Saga. I refuse to play anything on Facebook as I refuse to get on Facebook much anymore. Also, I know how annoying it can get to keep getting requests for lives and stuff of that sort so I decided to play it solo. What that means is that at the end of every section, you have to pass three specific stages to unlock the new section. Each time you pass one of the stages, you have to wait twenty-four hours to play the next one. I was in the middle of one of those twenty-four hour periods so I started playing from the beginning again trying to beat my own scores. That kept me busy for about an hour. Yes, an hour. Bear with me, I still have a ways to go. Next I decided to text people whom I have been meaning to contact but hadn't had time. I had time now. I had nothing but time and about forty-five percent battery left. Well, I got to catch up with some people and I did not hear back from a few others which made me question whether or not I should keep their numbers. I have not decided yet. After another hour had passed, I looked around and noticed that, although there was still some light, the sun had set. I decided to give in and call the Old Man. Unfortunately, he did not answer. I figured I would give him a few minutes and call him back. At around 9:00 pm I called him again. This time, he answered. When I asked where he was, he had no qualms in explaining that he had found a boil in his fundillo, as he put it, and he was at the hospital. If you did not follow that link to the Urban Dictionary definition, the word he so eloquently used is crude Mexican slang for "butt". Point being, he was going to have to spend the night at the hospital. I told him about my predicament and he said that I could come by and pick up an extra key he had. I was now faced with the daunting task of finding a ride to the hospital. I called Sister but she didn't answer. She sent me a text saying that she would call me back in a minute. I texted back telling her to make sure to do so. Well, it was after nine at night and I had ten percent battery left and there was only about a fifty percent chance Sister would call me back. I decided to look online for locksmiths but then changed my mind because I don't want to know how easy it would be, for someone with the know-how, to break into my house. I decided to start walking to the hospital, as I only live about two miles away, and hope for the best. I figured, worst case scenario, I would call a taxi and pay them once I got into the house. I started walking and I thanked my lucky stars that I was wearing a white shirt because most of the way I had to walk did not have a sidewalk and I had to walk on the shoulder. I remembered from my Driver's Ed class that, if you had to walk on the side of the road, it was better to walk on the side of oncoming traffic. The reason for that is that you can see a car coming and have a chance to get out of the way if the driver fails to see you. Despite the fact that I had very low battery, I was texting Preggo while I walked. When she was caught up on the whole situation, she said she was sorry I was having such a bad night. The problem was that I was not having a horrible night. I was quite happy in fact. Almost euphorically actually. I tried to explain it to her but she replied by saying that she did not understand me but that it did not matter as it was part of what made me special. Luckily, fifteen minutes and a quarter mile into my journey, Sister called me back. I answered and asked her if she had a key to my place and she said she didn't. When she asked me why I was asking her that, I told her that I had been locked out of the house for about three hours and was currently walking towards the hospital to get an extra key from the Old Man. I think at that point she was kind of exasperated with me. She kept asking me how come I had not told her that earlier. I said that I had called her and that she had texted me saying that she would call me back so I was waiting for her to call me back. She then informed me that being locked out for three hours was an emergency and that I should have texted her back informing her of my situation and that she would have come sooner. I was not aware that being locked out was an emergency but I am glad to know that for future reference. Actually, I thought being locked out was a very stupid, thoughtless mistake but to each their own. Sister and Brother-in-law (Bil) came to pick me up and, after a failed attempt to jimmy my door open with a Starbucks gift card, drove me to the hospital. BTW, I was very glad to find out the house could not be broken into using a five dollar Starbucks gift card. If there was a silver lining, that was definitely it. When we arrived at the hospital, Sister told me to tell the Old Man that I had gotten a ride from a friend so that he wouldn't go into long health explanations. I walked into the hospital and was immediately reminded of the horrible state I was in. I was wearing blue basketball shorts, a white undershirt, gray dress socks, and slip-on blue plaid shoes. To say I was embarrassed to be seen in public like that is an understatement. It did not matter that there were people dressed worse than me at the emergency waiting room, this was probably the low point of the evening. I arrived at the Old Man's room and was careful enough to knock before I entered to give him enough time to become decent. It did not matter though. He was wearing a hospital gown but we all know that those things don't close in the back and I got an eyeful of old man tighty-whiteys. Scratch what I said earlier, this was definitely the low point of the evening. He grabbed his wallet and handed me a spare key. It was not the house key. I told him that and he insisted that it was. I told him that it looked like a car key and that is when he remembered that he had made a copy of his truck key. He dug into his wallet one more time and fished out two more keys, one for his P.O. Box and the extra key to the house. I tried to leave as soon as possible, just as my sister had instructed me, but was unable to extricate myself from the room without first hearing about how they had given him a shot in the buttocks to numb them and that then they had lanced the boil and squeezed a whole bunch of pus out of it. As bad as hearing that was, it still did not take the low point of the evening prize from the earlier exhibitionist show.

The rest of the evening was uneventful. I made my way back to Sister and Bil and they proceeded to drive me back to my place. I gave them the extra key for them to keep in case of future "emergencies." as they called them, as I know I am careless enough to lock myself out again. After they left, I made myself some dinner and sat down to watch Supernatural as I ate. It was eleven o'clock at night, my whole plan was shot to hell (pardon my French but it seemed appropriate), but I had had a very pleasant evening. As near perfect as I am, I like having these kind of nights when I am reminded of how human I still am. Ironically, as much of a misanthrope as I am, I do cherish when my humanity shows up unexpectedly. I know this is not a perfect story, but that is why I like it. I am tired of perfection. Humanity is imperfect and it is time we let our imperfections shine through. I am getting off my high horse now. 'Til next week.

A Few Random Thoughts

This week's post will probably be very short, but I have a very good reason for it. I will be going on vacation on Wednesday and I am still not ready. There is so much stuff to do, mainly because I have procrastinated but there is no point in assigning blame, that I am starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. I will be going to visit Hillary and Zeke in Portland, Oregon. I am very excited about it, I think. I don't show excitement well. It will be cool to visit Portland and to see if it is anything like Portlandia portrays it. For those in the know, I am very worried that when I am done packing I will forget to put a bird on my suitcase. Cacao! (It means something, I promise though it may be more of an inside joke.) Since I still have a whole lot to do, I will attempt a random post. I apologize it for it in advance as I know that my attempts in the past have not gone so well. Anyway, here we go...

• The way I ended that sentence made me think of when Noodle says "Here you go" in the song 19-2000 by Gorillaz.
• Yes, I go on tangents like that quite often.
• Point in case, I lost like fifteen minutes from the first bullet point to the next because I started looking up Gorillaz and whatever new music they have out. 
• I am actually listening to them right now. 
• About the vacation, I will take a plane for the first time in my life and I am a little bit nervous.
• I just lied to you in the last bullet point. It will be the second time I fly but the first time I was fifteen and it was right after my brother passed away so I don't remember it well.
• Plus, this will be my first time flying after 9/11 and, again for those in the know, my middle name sounds kind of middle eastern-y and that is of concern to me.
• If I had one, I would wear a sarape or sombrero so that it will be clear to TSA officials that I am Mexican and not middle eastern.
• And, more importantly, I am definitely not a Muslim. As an atheist, I can't stress that enough.
• I really want to avoid going through any invasive searches. I have only been frisked once and it was only nominally fun so I doubt that something more invasive would be more fun.
• Not to disparage those that would enjoy it. I mean, to each their own.
• The BF is coming on the trip and I am kind of worried that he will be bored as his sense of humor and mine differ greatly and Hillary and Zeke share my sense of humor. I can just see Hillary, Zeke and me in laughing fits and the BF just looking at us with a tilted head trying to figure out what is wrong with us.
• That being said, I am glad he is coming. If nothing else, he will help with the flight anxiety, if there is any.
• Also, Wednesday will be our six month anniversary so it will be a reason to celebrate.
• Something else that worries me, and this may be TMI but I often over-share anyway, is the bathroom situation. I always been uncomfortable with bodily functions and I will be sharing a hotel room with the BF for four and a half days.
• I know that should not be a big deal but I am childish about somethings. For instance, I hate the word "fart." I don't find it funny and it makes me uncomfortable.
• On a different, and quite less disgusting note, Preggo sent me this pic a few days ago,

  

  She sent it with the caption, and I quote, "Memories :(" 

• I know that the picture itself means nothing to you, but that was the park where I sat for three hours hoping to hear from my parents the time they left me in Odessa. 
• I am glad to finally have  a pictorial reminder of the time my parents taught me that I should not expect them to not leave me 300 miles from home.
• I think I had it coming, it's been three years now so I don't remember it, but did it ever open my eyes.
• It wasn't all bad though. I like to believe that I am stronger for it.
• On a sadder note, that was the last time I saw my then best friend Jenny as she gave me a ride home after a took a bus to Abilene.
• There is a wasp nest outside my house and I went to buy wasp and hornet killer yesterday so I feel pretty butch about that.
• Now I am kind of scared of using it and being stung so any butch feeling is gone. I will get it done though. I just don't know when.

I think I shall end this post now. Once again, I apologize for it but I do think it is better than nothing. I mean, it even has a picture on it so what else could I have done to make it better? Plus, it's 1:37 p.m. right now and I have yet to have something to eat so I need to take care of me now. Hope you all have a great week. I know that after two days of work my week will suddenly get way better.

I Am Learning, Little by Little Mind You, That I Am Human.

Before I get into the details of my humanity and all, a quick update on last week's post. Yes, I am still a vegetarian. No, not for much longer. I will actually be giving it up in two days. You may be asking yourself why while raising your hands above your head exasperatedly. Well, there are several reasons. The main one being that of the three people that started in July, I am the only one still doing it. It's a lot more fun being a vegetarian when everyone else is doing it and you have someone to commiserate about the fact that you have to pay the same amount for a dish with four sides and no entree even if it is not as fulfilling as what everyone else is getting. Another reason for giving it up is because I am going on vacation to Portland in a week and a half and I want to be able to enjoy my vacation without having to worry about what to eat. Also, I am starting to eat meat a week in advance of my vacation so that my stomach gets used to it again and to avoid any episodes as I know I will be stressed enough by the travel alone. Other than that, I did enjoy my little forage into vegetarianism. I do believe sometime I will be able to do a permanent transition to a vegetarian diet but that may just be wishful thinking.

On a different note, they have changed my work duties, however temporarily, so I am unsure if I will have time to type this from work as I used to do it in my down time. It's not really good news though. Duties have been added to my schedule and I will even have to spend time away from my desk but there will be no pay increase and I am already frustrated with the way things are being handled. Since I am unaware of how much down time I will have, I may have to start writing from home. What will this mean to you? Nothing really. I will still try to do a new post every Monday. However, the length of the post may be considerably shorter to allow me time to go about my daily life, i.e. watching TV, drinking and such. Anyway, enough with the intros and on with the main point of this post.

So, after much thought and consideration, I have arrived at the conclusion that I am human, after all, with human emotions and everything. You may be wondering why my humanity was up for discussion but I am not a typical human. Especially when it comes to emotions. Yes, it is possible to bring me to tears but it's not through typical means. A good poem, recently W.B. Yeats Easter, 1916, a good movie, Fernando Leon De Aranoa's Princesas, or a good song, Stavesacre's Gold & Silver, will have me bawling like an infant. Yet, the tale of someone's misfortune or death just revs my brain into overdrive trying to find the most hilariously inappropriate comment I can make. I am often accused of being heartless and when that happens I often have no more recourse than to shrug my shoulders and agree with my accuser. It's not all great though. It does bother me that sometimes people don't tell me things because they are afraid that I will make fun of whatever they are going through. They don't understand that I am totally capable of exercising restraint and, though I will make light of the situation, I know when not to do it in front of them. I guess some people will always find a way to make everything about themselves though.

I have no idea where my callousness comes from so I will simply have to blame Medea. She was never really expressive of her emotions and I guess I learned from her. I remember that when I was a kid and used to hug her she would ask me what had gotten into me and if I had dreamed that she had died again. Most of the time, she was right as I would only hug her if I had a particularly vivid dream in which she died and when, upon waking, I was glad to see that she was still alive. However, that gladness was short-lived by her abrupt reception and accusing remarks of how I did not appreciate her unless I thought she was dead. Thus I learned to not express any emotion that may be seen as weakness and preyed upon. I called this living.

I have recently realized though that, even if I don't acknowledge them, the feelings are still there if buried deep within me and so strange to me that I almost do not recognize them when they dare surface. Two such cases happened a few weeks ago and they all happened due to the amazing person that is willing to put up with all my quirks, the BF.

The first one happened on a Tuesday. I don't remember exactly what was going on. I think he was in town but for some reason we had not seen each other in a while. We had talked daily but only for a few minutes because we both had things to do. On Tuesday, we talked as soon as I got off work but once again we had to cut the talk short for some reason or other. We always said we would talk later, but I knew that he would not call back til the next day. After I finished dinner and while I was watching TV and with no good reason for doing so, I called him. When he answered, I had nothing to say. I really had not thought it through. Nothing had happened since we had talked earlier and I found myself telling him that I had called him because it seemed like we had not talked enough even if I had nothing more to say. He gave a quick laugh and said that I had called him because I missed him. I immediately recoiled at his accusation because missing someone is something that I just don't do since it seems a sign of weakness. After all, I don't need anyone because I can take care of myself. I balked at his arrogant assumption and told him nothing could be further from the truth. The subject was then changed and we ended up talking on the phone for about an hour. While I was falling asleep that night, I was still thinking of his accusation that I missed him. I realized then that he was right. I was missing him but I did not recognize it because I have never really missed anyone in my life. I live a pretty independent life and I stay in touch with the people I want to stay in touch with when I want to stay in touch with them. I do not even miss my family. I feel more comfortable when my parents are here because my mom cooks and I know they are all right, but I never have the desire to call them and just talk to them. In fact, since they are in Mexico, I have to remind myself and force myself to call them once every two weeks. I was not aware that I could miss someone and, at first, was embarrassed that I could miss someone. I felt weak and stupid for letting someone influence how I felt. Thankfully, the second case which happened two days later changed my perspective.

Two days later, we had started making plans for the weekend. I was planning on spending the weekend at his place. We had been texting plans back and forth all day but when I called him after work he told me that the plans had changed. See, the BF has a dog, puppy as he likes to call him as he dislikes the word "dog," named Diesel. Since the BF travels a lot for work, he leaves Diesel with a friend of his that also has a dog, Nora. Therefore, whenever the BF is in town, he has to take care of two dogs, puppies, as they keep them together. That however is not important. What is important is that he told me that his friend was coming into the Dallas area for the weekend and that he was going to stay at his place so that our plans had to change. I felt an uneasiness at that moment but chalked it up to the fact that I don't like it when plans change. I told him that it was OK though because we could change our plans to accommodate his friend easily. I was not aware of anything unusual until the next morning when I woke up and remembered what I had dreamt. The BF's friend has a name that can easily be seen as unisex. I don't feel comfortable revealing his name so let it suffice that, in my dream, the BF's friend turned out to be a woman and that, upon meeting "her," my mind was put at ease. It took me a minute to realize that I was jealous. I have always stated that I am not a jealous person, but I have never really had a relationship, so I did not know for sure. In this case, the BF has a friend that shares with him his animals and love of animals and whom I never met and I was a little bit jealous. I was not even aware of it on a conscious level but, obviously, subconsciously I was troubled by it. Now, I have always maintained that jealousy is pointless but I should amend that to say that "excessive jealousy" is pointless. As things stand, I don't begrudge the BF having friends, but it is nice to know that I care enough to feel some jealousy as long as it does not affect the relationship.

I was super excited that I was jealous, to say the least. It was then that I realized that if being subconsciously jealous of the BF was a good thing, missing him was a good thing too. I told my friends at work about my new discovery as soon as I got to work and they were surprised and were the first to say that I may be human after all. I was elated for the rest of the day and told the BF the good news as soon as I saw him that night. He was not as excited about the new developments as I was but I don't think he understood how monumental these changes were. They kind of re-defined who I was which is not easy as I try to be a very self-actualized person. Also, I had proof that I was a person because persons miss people and get jealous. He still did not quite fully grasp why I was so excited kind of like he does not understand how I can enjoy being depressed. He's got a lot to learn about me but the good thing is that, apparently, so do I and I can't wait to find out what else there is to learn. I am a scholar after all.

According to Dottie, I Am a Whiny Little Bitch

I am not sure what my stance has been on swearing on this blog. This is at the front of my mind considering what the title of this post is and because I will have to use the word "bitch" at least a few times during this post. I do know my regular stance on cursing. I do not believe words are inherently good or bad but that it is our usage of them that assigns them a moral connotation. That is, however interesting for me, not relevant. I looked through the settings to see if there is anything that would indicate that this blog contains profanity but the only option I saw was one that asked if it contained adult material. I don't consider curse words adult material so I chose the "no" option. Thus, it will be up to your discretion whether this blog is appropriate for you and yours. I will not use profanity lightly but I do believe it has a place in our culture and, in instances where it is relevant to the story, I will not shy away from its usage.

All that will come later though. First, I want to keep talking about the wonderful weekend I had. Why was it wonderful? Well, it's mostly because of a single person, the BF. It all started Saturday when I arrived at his house so we could ride together to the wedding. We had not seen each other in two weeks because he travels a lot for work and, even though he had been in town the previous weekend, I had been sick and was unable to meet up with him. I got to his house and he was ready. This is important for two reasons. First, it shows that he is dependable to be on time. Second, it shows that I was running late and thus am not dependable to be on time. When I walked into his house, he announced he had something for me and unceremoniously presented me with this;

Note that the patriotic motif was the BF's and not mine as I consider patriotism to be a granfalloon.

That star-spangled emblazoned key that he gifted me grants me access to his house. I must say that I was moved by the gesture. Especially since earlier in the week, two days earlier to be exact, I was talking to Preggo about how I am a horrible boyfriend since the BF had asked me to help him put out his trash on collection day since he was out of town and I had forgotten. Twice. I had forgotten two weeks in a row. I told her that, in my defense, I had asked the BF to remind me and he had not done so because I was sick. I still felt bad about it, though. I also told her that I did not know where his trash cans were. Preggo asked me if I did not have a key to his house. I replied that I didn't and that I wasn't sure when and if I would get one. Cut to two days later and he is giving me a key, however gaudy, to his place. That right there put me in a good mood.

I was nervous about the wedding as the BF hadn't really ever seen me in a social situation. Plus, I was planning on drinking and he had not, and still has not, seen me drunk. I am taking it one day at a time. After all, easy does it. First things first, I want him to get to know me before I can scare him away with drunken antics. For those of you who noticed; yes, I used three of the slogans used by AA to refer to my drinking. Thank you for noticing as I only knew two and had to look up a third. It was hard work and I hope it pays off. If you read last week's post, then you are aware that there was an hour wait before the ceremony began and that I get antsy easily. I kind of felt bad for the BF because, when bored, I become very childish and immature. I went as far as to send him a text, even though he was sitting right next to me, asking him to entertain me. When he responded, I replied with a text saying that I was busy and would text him later. I found that funny. I also kept asking if I could go get some water and I even started making up illnesses, i.e. fever and stomachache, to see if he would let me go for a walk. He was unyielding and I had to sit there for the whole hour and I was not too happy about that.

As I may have mentioned in last week's post, I don't remember and I am too lazy to go back and re-read the post to make sure, I knew more people at the wedding than I expected to know. Therefore, at times I felt like I was neglecting the BF. I apologized to him in case I did while we were driving back to his place and asked if he had fun and if I had embarrassed him much. He said he had fun and that he had only been embarrassed when the honeydew incident happened. I would explain the honeydew incident but, if you haven't read last week's post, maybe this will serve as incentive for you to go back and read it. The BF did point out though that he was surprised at the ease with which I talked to people that I had told him that I strongly disliked, not to say hated. I had told him in the past that I was a very good hypocrite but he had never seen me in action. He also said that he was surprised that I introduced him as my boyfriend. I explained to him that there were two reasons for that. The first was that this was an event attended by people who were not my family, they were co-workers and friends, and therefore knew that I was gay so I felt comfortable presenting him as my boyfriend. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I wanted to make sure the co-workers knew who he was. If you remember, he had bailed out on me once for a co-worker event and they had taken to calling him "the imaginary boyfriend," implying that I had made him up. I had to put a stop to that and show them that he was real so it was almost a requirement to introduce him as my boyfriend.

When we were getting close to his place, we noticed that a cop was driving behind us and, about a block and a half from the BF's house, he pulled us over. It was very entertaining because the BF freaked out. See, I have failed to mention that he has been having problems with some back pain. To alleviate the pain, he has been taking over the counter medication. He is not a fan of "western medicine," as he calls it, and follows the instructions on the labels to the letter. At the wedding, even though I had many glasses of wine, he only had one glass of wine and nursed it all night long. I thought he'd had two glasses and kept telling him he'd be okay to get a third. I came to find out, while the cop is checking out his license in the patrol car, that the BF was relieved that he had only had one which is a lot fewer than I had. I mean, when the cop asked if we had been drinking, I gleefully raised my hand and cheerfully announced that I had, at which point the BF just pointed at me and said that he had been the DD (designated driver for those not in the know).  Luckily, the BF only got a warning since the reason we were pulled over was because one of his headlights was out. He was still freaking out about it though and I had to explain to him that a warning was nothing more than the cop justifying his time by explaining that he had pulled over someone with a headlight out.

I know you're thinking that everything so far sounds perfectly pleasant and you would be right. We got to his place, had a few more glasses of wine and went to bed. It was the events of the next morning that are alluded to in the title. As I mentioned before, the BF travels for work sometimes. He had just gotten back on Friday and he was flying out again on Monday so I knew he had errands to run. I also knew that he had to meet a friend of his at ten thirty in the morning and would be occupied for the rest of the day. Now, I am not a morning person. I used to be. When I was a senior in high school, I would get up at six in the morning every day even though I did not start getting ready for school until seven. It has been a long time since then and I have become more of a night owl. The BF, on the other hand, considers getting up at six thirty sleeping in. So, he got up at his usual early time and I decided to get up with him as I would not see him for two weeks once he left to meet his friend. We got up and had some coffee. I then suggested going somewhere for breakfast but he said he had to do some things first before he left the house. Apparently, I still looked very sleepy because he added that I should just go back to bed and take a nap/finish sleeping. I was tired so I went back to bed and promptly fell asleep. I felt him moving around the room a few times and considered getting up but I was very sleepy. Plus, it felt like I had only been in bed a few minutes every time I heard him and woke up. When I finally decided to get up, I looked at the clock and it was ten fifteen. I must explain here that along with not being a morning person, it takes me a while to fully wake up and become the wonderful person that people know and love. Point in case, if my sister ever happens to wake me up when she calls me, she knows to hang up and wait for me to call her back in about ten minutes or the conversation won't go well as I will be very upset for no reason. Okay, keep that in mind as I tell you what happened.

I woke up and saw what time it was and had this sinking feeling in my stomach that the BF had left without saying good bye. I stumbled groggily to the kitchen and looked out the window to find his truck was gone. I am not going to say I was mad, but I was upset. I wasn't going to get to see him for two weeks so, in my head, he should have woken me up to say good bye. Because I was upset, I got dressed very quickly, grabbed my stuff and went to my car. Once I was in my car, I called him. He answered in a very happy tone and asked me how my morning was going to which I very drily replied with a simple statement. "You left." He did not say anything to that so I added that he left and that he hadn't said good bye. He said that he did not want to wake me and I told him that he should have. He then asked if I had eaten the breakfast he had left for me in the fridge. I told him that I hadn't opened the fridge because I left as soon as I found out he was gone. He informed me that he had gone out that morning and purchased some stuff for breakfast and left it for me in the fridge and told me to go back inside to get it. I told him I was already down the road and did not feel like turning back. At that point, he arrived at his friend's place to pick him up so he had to let me go and we hung up. I thought about the fact that he had bought me breakfast and that it was a nice gesture but I was still upset that he had not woken me up before he left. A few minutes later, while I was still driving back to my place, he called me and asked me not to be upset. I said that I wasn't upset but that I was sad that he hadn't said goodbye. He then asked if I had seen the note he left me. Apparently, he had left a note for me on the floor in the entrance from the bedroom hall to the living room. I saw a piece of paper in the ground but I figured he'd dropped something and did not pick it up and read it because I did not want to be nosy. He had actually written two notes as he had left one when he went to buy breakfast, in case I woke up then, and he left one when he left to do what he needed to do. When he told me that, I knew I was being difficult, but I still felt a little slighted.

After we hung up, I called my friend Hillary so she could tell me that I was wrong. Unfortunately, she did not answer. I decided to call Dottie then since I needed someone to tell me I was being spoiled and stupid. I knew I was wrong on some level, but I was not fully awake and I needed someone to set me straight. Fortunately, she did. After hearing what had happened, she said;

"Carlos, get over yourself. He was trying to be considerate so stop whining like a little bitch."

When I articulated my surprised over being called a "little bitch", she responded;

"I meant to say "big bitch" but figured it would be nicer to use "little" instead. You need to apologize to him though."

As much as I respect Dottie and her no-nonsense approach, and because I wasn't fully awake yet, I took her advice with a grain of salt because I still felt my point had some validity to it. When I talked to the BF later that day, I did apologize and explained that I was not fully awake when I talked to him and thanked him for being so considerate. He asked me if I was mad and I reassured him that I wasn't so everything worked out in the end.

However, the next day, still trying to find a leg to stand on, I decided to share what had happened with Preggo and some other co-workers. This did not work out to my advantage. Among the many things that they told me, I was instructed to make it up to the BF for the way I had behaved and was told that I needed to appreciate having such a wonderful person in my life that is willing to put up with all my b.s. I talked to the BF about it that evening and told him what I had been told and that, although I was not gonna make it up to him as I still think I had a little bit of reason for acting like I did, I was apologizing one more time. He deserved at least that and that was as far as I was willing to go.

I guess the whole point of this post is to acknowledge that I have it very good with the BF and I should be thankful for him. Yes, he does not understand sarcasm and most of my jokes fly right over his head, but he more than makes up for it by being so caring and considerate. Also, he told me to write something good about him as he felt I was being too mean. So... here it is. I said something nice. Take a picture (screenshot) of it because it doesn't happen often. On a serious note, I am glad to have the BF in my life and I hope to have many more stories to share with you all about him.

Apparently, My Wedding Etiquette Is Subpar

Last week, I tried to write a random post in order to have a back up in case of unforeseen illness in the future. Unfortunately, my record for writing random posts clearly shows that I am incapable of doing so, or, at the very least, doing so in an entertaining manner. I still have the failed attempt saved and I may use it if I ever am in dire need of content to publish. You will recognize it by its title, "This May Be an Exercise in Futility." Luckily, I will not be posting that this week as I had a very eventful weekend. I am thinking I can actually get two posts out of it. For one, it will help me have content to write about for two weeks. Secondly, splitting the weekend into two will help me have two shorter posts instead of a very long one which should help with those who complain that my posts are too long. I am, of course, talking about the BF even though I am not even sure he reads this. Thirdly, concentrating on one topic may help make the article more focused instead of the convoluted mess it usually is. As the title to this post indicates, I will be concentrating on the events surrounding a wedding I attended Saturday.

I have known this wedding was coming up for some time, as evidenced by the fact that I mentioned it in the last post. This may have something to do with the fact that I have known the bride for about eight years and that I currently work with her. I have known the bride, let's call her Nikki, since before she started dating her now-husband. I mention this to establish how long we have known each other and hoping it explains some of what happened at the wedding.

The first problem I had with the wedding, and no it was not that gay people can't get married yet, was that Nikki explicitly told me I could not wear jeans. The last two weddings I attended, one of which she attended with me, I wore jeans. They were nice jeans that I dressed up with a button-up shirt and a vest so it did not look bad. However, this time she explicitly told me no jeans. I must add that there was a guy at the wedding that wore cargo pants and a polo shirt so jeans would have looked a lot better and a lot less sloppy than that. I ended up wearing just slacks and a black shirt with a tie that I bought the day before because I did not like any of the ones I had. I looked ok, but was not totally satisfied with the end result. At this point I will interject that I know I had talked about taking a picture at the wedding but I was not about to take a picture when I was not truly satisfied with my attire. At one point I noticed that everyone was taking pictures with the bride and I had to ask if that was a requirement because I really did not need that wardrobe choice to be saved for posterity. Needless to say, I did not take a picture with the bride. I figured I did not want one and she already had too many so she wouldn't miss it.

Because I have known the happy couple (that just sounds cliche, doesn't it?) for a long time, it turns out that I knew a lot of the people at the wedding. I had dragged the BF along so that I would not be by myself and in the end I felt like I neglected him as I kept running into people I knew and talking to them, whether I liked them or not. I talked a lot that evening. I talked from the minute we sat down for the ceremony til the minute I climbed into the passenger seat of BF's truck. It wasn't all my fault though. I had to talk to keep myself entertained sometimes. For example, despite my better judgment and despite my Mexican upbringing that has taught me never to be on time for anything, we arrived at the wedding ten minutes early. Now, you may not know me, but ten minutes is a long time to wait for me. I am not impatient, at least I don't think I am, but I do get antsy easily and sitting still in a ceremony hall communicating in hushed whispers while trying to behave and not criticize people is not my idea of fun. Thus, I kept turning around to talk to people and asking how much longer it would be until the wedding started. The wedding was supposed to start at six o'clock but it did not start til ten minutes to seven. Now, if you remember that we got there ten minutes before the appointed time, that means that I had to sit and squirm for a whole hour. I am just saying that, despite my best intentions, I ended up criticizing some people and annoying others just to keep myself entertained for that long. Thankfully, the ceremony was short and we were served wine the minute we made it into the reception hall. I have said it before and I will say it again, wine makes everything better.

Finding a place to seat at the reception was also nerve racking. There were only six seats per table and there were more than six people I wanted to sit with. There was the co-worker group and the people I have met at previous parties. I ended up just sitting with the BF, two friends of the bride and two people I did not know. Thankfully, the people at the table did not find me annoying. I daresay that I was very entertaining but, as much as I like it, wine can be deceiving. If nothing else, I had a good time.

So far, except for the talking a lot, I felt like I was behaving in an appropriate manner. Unfortunately, I can't be trusted to behave for extended periods of time. Especially not when I am around people I feel comfortable with. Everyone was lining up for the buffet so me and the BF decided to go congratulate the newlyweds before lining up ourselves. When we got to their table, Nikki was talking to someone else so I said a quick congratulations to the groom while waiting. I thought about giving him a hug but I decided we were not that close. I probably did not need to tell him that aloud though but hindsight is 20/20.  While we were waiting, the servers brought the new couple their dinner plates. I would describe the dinner but that is not of consequence right now. What does warrant mentioning is that after saying congratulations to the bride, and informing her that I was not giving her a hug either because it was awkward, I mentioned that her plate looked good. You may know where this is headed but don't get ahead of me. I will get there. So, I mentioned that her plate looked good and she asked me, politely, if I wanted to try anything. I found this a bit odd but we have shared whataburger egg taquitos after a night of drinking so it did not seem too inappropriate. Still, I declined by saying that I would just get in line and get my own plate. I guess that should have been the end of that but she asked me if I was sure and told me that I could try something if I wanted to. At that point, I looked around her plate to really ascertain myself of its contents. Even I knew that it would be inappropriate for me to take the piece of chicken from her place but I noticed that on the side there was a piece of honeydew melon. I told her that, if she didn't really mind, I would take the piece of honeydew. She told me to go for it... so I did. Upon clarifying that my hands were clean, I picked up that piece of melon and ate it only to look around and find that the BF had deserted me and that he and Dottie, one of my co-workers whom he'd just met, were standing in the buffet line pretending that they did not know who I was. I thanked the bride for the fruit and excused myself so I could stand in line and get my own plate but, apparently, I had crossed a line. I kind of understand that what I did may be considered inappropriate but the bride asked and shouldn't the bride get anything she asks for on her wedding day? That is why, even though the BF and Dottie acted as if they were embarrassed by my actions, I maintain that I did nothing wrong. Especially since I am not a particularly big fan of honeydew, I will eat it if it is there but I won't go out of my way for it, and I ate it because it was the least obtrusive item on her plate. See? I am a little bit considerate.

After we got out plates, we sat down to eat and dinner was fairly uneventful. I mean, I did at one point had a piece of chicken on my lap and had to use my napkin to clean the sauce from my shirt, but that was an accident. Accidents happen to everyone so I am not taking responsibility for that one either. After all, I was just sitting there trying to cut a piece of chicken off when all of a sudden it flies into me and lands in my lap. I don't like wasting food so I still ate it and then I cleaned my shirt off but I don't see how any of that is my fault. You may say that it's my fault for now knowing how to use cutlery properly. I think I do pretty well considering that, growing up in Mexico, we sometimes only used a tortilla to eat instead of cutlery. If anything, I should be offended that their wedding was not culturally inclusive as it discriminated against those that use tortillas as cutlery by not having any tortillas around. I may be on the losing side of this one too, though.

I am happy to report that the eating of the cake went off without a hitch. Also, even though I had a total of seven or eight glasses of wine, I only spilled a little bit of it on the tablecloth and it was only noticeable because I was drinking Merlot and the tablecloth was white. Speaking of wine, I learned that wine is not the best of beverages to try to drink while dancing. Me and Nicole have gone to clubs many times. We have danced with our drinks in our hand more times than we can count and we are very proud of the fact that we have never spilled a drink. Now, don't be scared, as our perfect record of unspilled drinks remains unbroken. When it was time to dance, I was going to leave my glass of wine on the table. However, I saw Nikki take her glass of beer onto the dance floor and, you know, when in Rome... They played two line dances. One was the wobble, which I don't know how to dance, and the k-wang, which Nikki and I had agreed we would dance at her wedding. I jumped in at the end of the wobble and as we were walking off the dance floor the k-wang started. The bride and I lined up on the dance floor and, although some people tried to join us, we pretty much danced the whole song by ourselves. This is when the wine became problematic. The k-wang is a line dance that does not have a lot of down time. I wanted to take a drink but the movement kept the wine away from my lips. To make matters worse, I would end up exhaling into the wineglass and spraying my face with wine. Having a face full of wine does not promote good dancing so I kept messing up the steps. Also, I wish I could say that I sprayed my face full of wine only once, but that would not be true. I did it at least three times. The more I danced, the more I wanted a drink and the more out of breath I was causing me to exhaled more and spray more wine in my face which made me really want a drink thus becoming a vicious cycle. The good thing about the whole situation was that, even though I kept missing steps, everyone thought we did really well because no one else knew the dance. That is the benefit of practicing beforehand.

The rest of the wedding went of without a hitch. Especially since the bride and groom got "hitched" at the beginning of the wedding so the "hitch" was already done. I am sorry for the horrible pun but I could not help myself. If I could have stopped myself from typing that, I would have. After the line dancing, I went over to the table, wiped my face clean with my napkin, polished off my glass of wine and returned to the dance floor unburdened by any liquids. Having taking care of that, dancing went more smoothly and was more fun. There were no more inappropriate shenanigans that I can think of. Still, even with the few mishaps I have mentioned, I think it was a fairly successful wedding and I deem my behavior appropriate, if not stellar.

The wedding ended shortly after and we bid the newlyweds adieu. After that, I made sure to say hello and good bye to the bride's mother and to a few people I wanted to make sure I said hi to and me and the BF departed. We still had a long drive ahead of us and I would like to say that the drive went off without incident but that was not the case. However, that is fodder for another post.

Back From the Brink of Death With No New Knowledge to Show For It

It won't be apparent to you, dear reader, but it has been exactly two weeks since I wrote my last post. Thankfully, I had planned ahead and the staggering release of posts worked as planned so there will not be a week without a post. Why have I not written in two weeks? Have I done nothing new lately? Was I slacking and losing devotion to this blog again? How did Medea like her present? As the post title indicates, was I on the brink of death? And, most importantly, have I gotten a haircut yet? All of these answers, and more, shall be discussed on today's entry. Stay tuned.

So many things to talk about and yet I have so little space. I have already had people complain that my posts are too long, and by people I mean the BF, but brevity is not, has never been, and will never be my strong suit. Point in case, the previous sentence was unnecessarily lengthy and this sentence, which is doing nothing more than pointing out the obvious by focusing on the length of its predecessor, is not helping cut down my word count at all. In fact, that second sentence may have been longer than the first and thus it is definitely not helping me be more concise. I should end this paragraph right now. I think this paragraph is complete as it is. Yes, I quite like how pointless it is while at the same time making a point of the pointlessness of my writing.

Speaking of my writing, and more explicitly, of my editing, I feel I should apologize. As I said before, I wrote the last post over two weeks ago. Usually, I will write a post and revise, tweak, clean, and edit it a few days letter. Unfortunately, I was not able to do so with the last post and, upon reading it, found many simple mistakes that I cannot forgive myself for. However, I did enjoy reading the post. I know it is gross to be self-congratulatory but I thought it was a funny and entertaining post. Also, I got a comment from Anonymous and that is the first time I have gotten a comment on one of the posts since I started writing again. Getting that comment felt really good so I will overlook the mistakes this time. Especially since the reason I did not get a chance to edit it was because I was... on the brink of death.

Well, not really. I have been sick for about nine days now. I am feeling better so you can save your concern for people that really matter and that really need it. I appreciate if you were trying to be concerned but there is really no need. Thanks, though. After all, I don't think I was that ill.  It was just a cold/flu/allergies/strep throat kind of thing. What was it exactly? I don't know. I know that for the first 5 days I tried to get over it with just over the counter medication. I also know that over the counter medication was not enough. Luckily, right before I made my mind up about going to the doctor, I found some old antibiotics. Now, I am not going to admit online to self-prescribing old antibiotics in order to cure myself because I know better than that as I have been told the evils of self-medication and I am unclear on how legal it is. However, I feel better today than I did last week so praise whichever deity deigned do throw me a solid (that's still an expression, right? Because I am not sure where I picked that up from). Irregardless (I am unsure if "irregardless" is a word or not but I felt like using it) of why I am feeling better, I am just thankful that I am.  However, illness, and not a lack of devotion, did stop me from writing, or even editing, any posts so now I find myself needing to write a few posts in order to buck up my reserves once more in case of some unforeseen obstacle rearing its head in the future.

I had forgotten all about Medea's birthday until I read the stellar post (please allow me to indulge in self-adulation once more) I wrote about it. If I know you at all, which I probably don't as evidenced by the fact that the only person to ever comment since I started writing again was anonymous, you are dying to hear how the whole birthday celebration went down. Well, my sister bought a cake and I bought some wings and we had dinner. I, at one point which may or may not have been while singing Happy Birthday, uttered the words "happy birthday Medea." I am also happy to report that the hug situation was avoided and that my arms have not embraced my mother since December of last year after our fight when she stood there with her arms hanging listlessly at her side while I awkwardly clasped my arms around her bidding her adieu. So, all in all, it was a fairly successful evening. I feel I must point out, whether for the sake of the reader or for my own sanity or for posterity, that no acknowledgement was made of my gift and no thanks were given either verbally, orally or kinesically (by gesture or movement). However, this was expected so I am not too bitter about it. I would say I am just bitter enough.

The last two weeks have not been all bad though. I did go to my first bachelorette party ever. It was nothing to write home about. Fortunately, this is not home so I can write about it here. I feel I should have known it wouldn't be a good experience as I have a low tolerance for drunken women. This was exacerbated by the fact that I was wearing new shoes. Now, don't get me wrong, I love new shoes. I just wasn't expecting to be doing much walking and they are not quite broken-in yet. At the rate the breaking-in process is going, I am starting to think that shoes break-in feet instead of the other way around. I am not saying the night did not have its moments. Dancing was fun and my shoes were not killing me at all at that moment. The maid of honor fell while we were walking on the sidewalk and that provided me with a few minutes of hilarity after which my sadistic shoes reminded me of the painful reality that was walking in them. I also had the chance to have a drink with a leaf on it. Don't believe me. Fine, take a look for yourself.

I believe this drink qualifies as one of the 5 daily fruits and vegetables nutritionists recommend.

Boom, baby. You thought that it was gonna be a small leaf, didn't you? You were wrong. That is a... darn I forgot the name. The point is that is a martini made with cucumber vodka with chili powder on the rim and with, what I learned later was not a lettuce leaf, a big basil leaf in it. I must say that the leaf threw me off at first. That is until I realized that you did not have to eat it and could just drink the martini through the two straws without bothering with the leaf at all and everything was better. I must say that this was probably the highlight of the night. Other than that, driving a bunch of drunk women around, though I do it often enough, is not my idea of fun.

Lastly, because I have managed to answer all the questions I asked at the beginning of this post but this one, I will just say that I have gotten my haircut already. The reception has been lukewarm. The usual people have told me that they like my hair short and the BF told me that he liked my hair better when it was longer. When I accused him of not liking my haircut he stated, begrudgingly methinks, that he liked it but that he preferred it longer (insert "That's what she said!" joke in here). That was when I stopped talking to him for two minutes. I figured that was sufficient punishment for such a slight, and maybe even imaginary, transgression. You may be wondering, I will not assume to know you anymore since I established earlier that I didn't, why I haven't taken a recent picture then. Well, I have been sick and that is hardly the time to take a photograph of oneself. I have good news on that front though. I will be attending a wedding this weekend, yes it's the same bride from the bachelorette party so stop asking, and I hope to take at least one decent photograph so that I can update you on the continuing deterioration of my youth and looks. Thankfully, you don't read this for my looks or I would be screwed.

Mission accomplished. You are all caught up now. Feel free to commend me on how my picture-taking has improved as the picture of that drink up there is way better than the one of my mom's flowers. On top of that, I do believe this is a shorter post than some so maybe I am learning some brevity after all. I guess we'll have to wait and see what the future brings.

We Are Almost Caught Up... Just Bear With Me.

I am having a hard time starting this post because I am unsure about what to write. I lead such a lackluster life that there are few things to write about. A typical day for me entails getting up, going to work, going to lunch, going back to work, going home, watching TV and going to sleep. It's a pretty routine life. Every now and then I will switch it up a bit. For example, last night I watched four episodes of Gilmore Girls (I own all 7 seasons on DVD) but I also read a few short stories and listened to some music. Every now and then I will go to the movies but that is it. I rarely deviate from that format. I mean, if it ain't broke... right? Except that all this non-broken-ness leads to a life with few complications and it is such complications that are compelling to write and read about. I have no complications. Unlike Jay-Z, I don't have ninety-nine problems. I wish I had ninety-nine problems. It would spare me having to write a paragraph like the one you just read. I mean, this is no way to gain an audience. I need to provide an escape to your mundane lives (I'm assuming, of course) by providing a window into my exuberant and glamorous life, which I don't have. However, there is no point crying over my life, or lack thereof, so I should move on with this post.

In the last two posts, I have caught you up with what is going on with me and my family. The only thing left to discuss would be my social life. I now need to catch you up with all the goings-on of all my friends and my dating life. This should be a short post.

On the friend front, I am happy to report that I have fewer friends than when I started this blog (I'm being sarcastic, of course. Please try to stay with me as I won't always type an explanation). I am a very gregarious person so I talk a lot to a lot of people but I am lacking the connection one usually has with friends. I usually keep my friend list short in order to be able to provide each one with a personalized experience and be able to have more one on one time. I have never had more than 3 or 4 real friends at a time. Let me clarify here that when I mean friends, I mean people with which I will share anything and everything. I am sure that I know some people that will be offended that I don't regard them as friends but, in my opinion, if I only see you at work and hardly ever outside of it, we are more friendly than we are true friends. Then again, I am probably just being really picky like Kristen Wiig's character in Bridesmaids (which, if you haven't watched it, you need to watch it. Maybe not right now. Maybe you should finish reading my blog first and then watch it. Yes, watch it right after you finish reading the blog. You can thank me later.) when she is complaining to Melissa McCarthy's character that she has no friends and Melissa tells her that she does have friends but refuses to acknowledge and reach out to them. I really hope that made sense. The point is, I don't think I have any really close friends right now as I have had in the past. I was at one point going to read the book "How to Lose Friends & Alienate People" (which was made into a movie in 2008 according to IMDB) but decided not to as I really don't need help in that department. You maybe asking yourself how I have managed to alienate people being the charming and charismatic young man that I am. I would like to blame everything on stupid drunken nights of debauchery that are so shaming my mind has repressed all memory of them, so I will. It is not my fault at all as I am a charming and charismatic young man. Therefore, stupid drunken nights of debauchery are to blame for all of it. Yes. That sounds right. At least it makes me feel better. Then again, I have not alienated all of my previous friends. Some of them just up and moved out of state and I am fairly certain, about 95%, that it wasn't because of me.

It isn't all bad though. I still talk to my friends that moved to Portland, sporadically but it still counts. We have also had two Skype movie nights. A Skype movie night is when we choose a movie on Netflix and then get on Skype and try to watch it at the same time. So far we have watched Zombies vs Strippers and the 1969 Batman movie. We have a thing for B-movies as they tend to be hilarious. Moving on, I still have my Houston friend whom I have never met but often provides me with excellent advice and from whom I borrowed the ingenious nicknames for my nephews. I also have co-workers like Dottie, Heidi and Preggo with whom I share a bond deeper than just the co-worker bond. In fact, if we could only hang out more outside of work, they could probably be upgraded to friends. Unfortunately, they have families and thus busy schedules which leaves them with little free time. So, I am not as lonely as I made it sound in the previous paragraph. In fact, the only reason I often find myself drinking alone, is because I can't resist the call of a bubble bath while enjoying a few drinks and watching The Colbert Report. And, while drinking in the bath is extremely fun, it does give the phrase "drowning your sorrows" a different connotation.

On to the dating front. I am afraid that I don't have many stories to tell. I have mentioned some of my dating experiences in the past and they tend to not be that great. One could easily assume that I am either very picky or very unlucky when it comes to the dating world. Well, I guess luck has to run out some time, even if it is bad luck, because I actually have a boyfriend at the moment! What?!?! Me having a boyfriend?!?! It is so unlike me, I know. But, what can I say? I met someone who is a sucker for punishment and therefore enjoys spending time with me. BF, as he will henceforth be known as, even thinks I am good-looking and I believe him because he is a crappy liar. He is older than me by a few years and has his life way more together than me. In a twist worthy of Shyamalan's early work, The Sixth Sense or Unbreakable and not The Lady in the Water or The Happening, he is a political conservative whereas I have a heart. Fortunately, he does think I am smarter than him and that makes up for the political differences because at least we agree on something. He has told me, more than once, that he used to think he was smart until he met me. I don't need to tell you how much I love that. Especially if you know me at all and know how much of a megalomaniac I am.  We met around New Year's and have been dating for about two and a half months. To be honest, I am a bit wary of the relationship because we haven't had a huge fight yet. We have had small disagreements and he stood me up, sort of, one time but, other than that, it's been pretty smooth sailing and I am not used to that. I am used to turbulence. I am used to Life of Pi style storms that capsize cruisers and leave small boys to cohabit with tigers in a lifeboat. Although I was not the biggest fan of that movie, I hope you have seen it or that reference holds no water. I don't know how much more I can say as I don't recall what his response was when I told him I may write about him. Also, I don't want to jinx anything so I should really not mention anything more though I am pretty sure he will come up in the future.

I guess that brings us up to date on the major stuff. I will have to really start thinking about what to write next. I am going to have to start doing things and that sounds exciting. I am also sure I can reach into my past for some interesting stories to tide me over now and then. I may also re-start my "Reasons Why I Am Going to Hell" but, either I have gotten nicer or I am more numb to what I say, because I don't come across those as often as I used to. I also owe you a recent picture of me but I have not gotten my haircut yet so you will have to wait. 'Til next time.