Well now... since I've gotten so many emails from my adoring readers complaining that I haven't written anything a couple of days... here you go.
I forgot how much sitting home all f'ing day sucks. I mean, if it were summer, I could walk down to the Park Ave Deli, sit outside with a sub and a beer with the rest of the unemployed, pseudo intellectual, goatee growin', really small glasses wearin', tie your hair in a ponytail rubber bandin', backpack slingin', smoothie drinkin', non-showerin, people that I can't stand. But I can't. It's not summer. The Park Ave Deli is closed... some dude bought it and is opening it up later this year. But to address my original point, sitting home all day sucks. I actually got up at a decent hour this morning... I think it was around 8:15AM... don't get too excited... it wasn't my idea, but rather the idea of Tom. Who's Tom you ask? Tom is the telemarketer that called me on my cell phone this morning at 8:15 AM and woke my lazy ass up. Since when can they call you on your cell phone??? What was that all about? Needless to say, I thanked Tom for his wakeup call, rolled over and tried to get back to sleep but to no avail. Dammit... now I have a whole day to kill.
I guess it's good that I was up that early... I promised a friend that I would do my laundry today. I've been saying since Monday that I was going to do it the next day, but there was a wandering band of street punks huddled outside my door just waiting for some tall, skinny geek to come out of the corner apartment with a laundry basket and detergent so that they could jump him, knock him out, take his Lance Armstrong bracelet, pillage the aforementioned corner apartment, and make off with his life savings of $84.73. So, you can see the pickle that I was in. Obviously safety is my concern here. The good news is that I looked out the peephole and the street punks weren't there today. My guess is that they got Josh first and that satisfied their bloodlust... at least for today.
What really sucks is that I have 3 cigarettes left... which ultimately means that sometime today I'm going to have to bundle myself up like an eskimo with poor circulation, go outside, use a metal detector to find my car, brush more of that white crap off, and drive to Wilson Farms for smokes. Maybe I can make the remaining smokes last until like 5:00, so that I can move my car and get cigs in one fell swoop. That would be a feat. It would be an especially triumphant feat, considering that I'm now down to 2... my ex just called. That's a whole other post, and I'll get to that.
My new boss called yesterday... she's going to pick me up at 8:00 on Monday morning so that we can head out to Buffalo to pick up my company car. She seems pretty cool, and it's also pretty cool that they're just tossing me the keys to a brand new vehicle that I'm supposed to use for pretty much anything, including personal use. The only thing that I'm worried about with the new job is that there's someone in the new office that's all gung-ho about the company, the product, her kids, or whatever. There was one of those in my old office. I could not stand this woman. Every f'ing day it was this broad babbling on about how great she was and what an awesome company it was to work for and yada yada yada. This person... oh man. I can't even find the words. I just want to break into her house while she's sleeping and crack an ant farm over her head so that the ants lay eggs in her scalp and she has to shave her head, and when she walks down the street all the kids in her neighborhood point and laugh and call her anty anty scalpy scalpy. That'd teach her to have a positive attitude.
I think I have a new thing that's pissing me off, and it's MTV's "Real World." I hate this show with a f'ing passion. What they do is take 6 of the biggest moronic crybabies that they can find, stick them all in a posh downtown apartment, provide all their food, utilities, decor and whatever, and just film them for a few weeks. Ladies and gentlemen, that is about the farthest thing from the real world that you could find, on TV or anywhere. Ya wanna see the real world? Come live with me for a month. Come with me into my wonderful world of work, taxes, French bread pizzas from Wegmans, diet vanilla Pepsi, $20 hair cuts, $6/pack cigarettes and psycho ex's. That's the real world my friends, I just don't have a video crew... yet.
Sorry to take that sidebar, but I had to get that off my chest.
Good news... I found my Todd Snider album. If you've never heard him, I highly recommend picking up an album. He's got this kind of comical, story telling style. Good stuff. The following are the lyrics to one of his songs that's "hidden" on the Songs from the Daily Planet album. It's at the end of the album, about a minute after the last song ends. It's not a separate track, more of a trailer on the end. Pretty funny.
Hey, hey, my, my, Rock 'n roll will never die. Just hang your hair down in your eyes, you'll make a million dollars.
Well I was in this band going nowhere fast. We sent out demos but everybody passed. So one day we finally took the plunge... moved out to Seattle to play some grunge... Washington state, that is. Space Needle, Eddie Vedder, Mudhoney. Now to fit in fast we wear flannel shirts, we turn our amps up until it hurts. We got bad attitudes and what's more, when we play we stare straight down at the floor. Wowee. Pretty scary. How pensive. How totally alternative.
Now to fit in on the Seattle scene, you gotta do something they ain't never seen. So thinking up a gimmick one day, we decided we'd be the only band that wouldn't play a note, under any circumstances. Silence... music's original alternative. Hell, that's alternative to alternative... roots grunge!
Well we spread the word through the underground that we were the hottest new thing in town. The record guy came out to see us one day, and just like always we didn't play. It knocked him out. He said he loved our work. He said he loved our work but he wasn't sure if he could sell a record with nothing on it. I said, "tell 'em we're from Seattle." He advanced us two and a half million dollars.
Well they made us do a video but that wasn't tough because we just filmed ourselves smashing stuff. It was kinda wierd because there was no music, but MTV said they'd love to use it. The kids went wild, the kids went nuts, Rolling Stone gave us a 5 star review, said we played with guts. We were scorin' chicks, takin' drugs, then we got asked to play MTV unplugged. You shoulda seen it. We went right out there and refused to do acoustical versions of the electrical songs that we had refused to record in the first place. Then we smashed our shit.
Well we blew 'em away at the Grammys show by refusing to play and refusing to go. And then just when we thought fame would last forever, along come this band that wasn't even together. Now that's alternative. Hell, that's alternative to alternative. I feel stupid... and contagious.
Well our band got dropped and that ain't funny 'cause we're all hooked on drugs but we're out of money. So the other day I called up the band, I said "boys I've taken all I can, shave off your goatees, pack the van... we're going back to Athens."
More good news, the 3rd and 4th loads of laundry are now officially in the dryer. I'm thinking I could probably dig up a few more quarters and finish off virtually everything... nah, small steps. I also promised this friend that I would clean my bathroom, but I'll save that for another day when I'm particularly ambitious... not today... I don't have enough cigarettes.
I think I'm done for now... got some serious folding to do.
Until next time...
R
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Respect the potter... Al would've.
I will say one thing up front here... this is going to be a short post. There's a couple reasons for that... one, a friend told me that I should wait for tomorrow to write because I'm tired, it's late, and I've had a couple cocktails, and two, it's pretty late and I don't really have a lot to say. I didn't do much of anything today, so I don't really have a good take on anything.
Regardless, here goes. Josh, my next door neighbor came over tonight after doing his second job. That's right, his second job lets out at 9:30PM on a Monday night. So, around 9:45, there's a knock on my door... I know before getting off the couch exactly who it is. I don't think that I've written about Josh since I started this thing, and I feel pretty bad about it... so maybe it's time that I give him his just due, or due diligence, or whatever you want to call it.
Across the hall from me, dwells a soul that is truly a free spirit... one of the nicest people I have ever met, and one of the most honest and "real" people I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. His name is Josh. I call him "Kramer." If you have ever seen an episode of Seinfeld, you will know exactly what I'm talking about. He's textbook Kramer... the guy that knocks on your door out of nowhere, comes in with a good take on whatever you're dealing with, has a couple beers, and calls it a night. Every time he comes over here, we'll just sit and talk about virtually nothing. However, that "nothing" conversation always blossoms into so much more. There's conversations about women, about relationships, about his job and mine, and pretty much anything under the sun that you would want to talk to someone across the hall that drinks your beer and smokes your cigarettes about. Was that considered a run-on sentence?
So we have a couple of beers, and a couple of Josh's friends call him on his cell... pretty much for the same reason that I enjoy talking to him so much... he's got a good take on everything, and there's no bullshit... just a flat out good kid, whose innocence and honesty are so sobering that you'd think that you just spent 10 years in AA (not to knock AA at all... I have a friend that's going on his 2nd year of sobriety and I couldn't be more proud of him). Please don't think for a second that I feel that innocence and/or honesty are bad traits by any stretch of the imagination, but rather honorable traits that I wish more people I dealt with had. I love having the priveledge of having him live across the hall... I think that he. more or less, grounds me.... that he brings me back to reality and gives me a taste of what it's like to be in his shoes. Don't get me wrong... I don't want to say that he's some poverty-stricken loser... he does what he loves, and does whatever it takes because he loves what he does. I have an enormous respect for that.
Not to get off the "what a good guy Josh is" tip, but here's the story. We were watching TV, which pretty much consists of him drinking my beer and me flipping channels, when we came upon some show where there were a bunch of people carrying a casket... pall bearers. Immediately it sparked a response in me. A few years ago, I was a pall bearer for one of my best friend's dad. To be as candid as I can, I didn't like it. Honestly, I felt too close... like I was carrying someone that I cared about so much that I can't put it into words, to someplace where I knew I would never see them again. I felt like the grim reaper. I felt like I was putting that person somewhere that would be so final, so conclusive, and such an end to such an animated life that my doing this was only hurting one of the few people outside of my family that I do, in fact, consider part of my family. I hope that if he reads this, that he knows how important he is to me, and that I do love him like a brother. I pray that my carrying his father to his final resting place brought some solace and comfort to him, and that he knows how much I cared for and respected his father. I also hope that if he somehow happens to stumble upon this post that he knows that he has the most beautiful daughter that I have ever seen, and that I can see so much of his mother and father in that little girl. He recently had another one, and I'm sure she's gorgeous, but I haven't had the pleasure of her acquaintance just yet.
To get back to my original point, I had mentioned that I said to Josh that I didn't like being a pall bearer. He was very quick to retort with, "why not?" I told him the whole story that I talked about earlier, and he had what I thought was a great response. He said that there's no greater honor than laying someone down for the last time... someone that you loved. He followed that up with something like, "if it were you, would you rather have someone that you barely knew carry your lifeless body?" That kind of made me think... and I think he's pretty right on with what he said. If it were me, yes, I think I'd like to have my best friends carry me to where my body would forever reside. Prior to this conversation, I didn't give it a second thought... I didn't really care. What that little pottery teacher from across the hall said both made me feel good about the whole carrying one of my best friend's father thing, and about my own mortality.
I think about my friend's father a lot. Not just so much about the funny stories that I've told about a zillion times, but about how much he cared about and loved his son that was 3,000 miles away at school... about the times when we went to dinner or played golf and he wouldn't hear of any of us paying for anything just because he knew that we were important to his son. There was nothing that he wouldn't do for any of us "kids," just because we were friends with his son. Back when I lived in Jamestown, every now and again, me and the rest of our little clique would go and visit my friend's father from time to time. Regardless of what time of night or day it was (usually night), he was always thrilled to see us. I have to believe that it brought back the memories of when we shared times with him and his son, and the joy he took in watching his son grow into what he eventually became. To take a quck sidebar here, his son, one of my best friends, is now a Vice President of one of the biggest banks in the world, has a lovely wife, and two wonderful daughters. I know that his father is looking down on them right now, wearing his driving cap, light blue short-sleeved striped golf shirt and khaki pants, screwing a Merit cigarette into his lips, yelling at that great bartender in the sky for a shot of Old Grand Dad, and he's smiling.
I've got a ton more that I could write about my friend's father... let's call him "Al," but that's another post. For now, that's all I'm going to put in print about "Al" and my friend. I could literally go on for hours on "Al" stories, but I'm going to call it quits for tonight. Besides, I'm wearing out the backspace key on my keyboard.
The only thing that I'll leave you with is that the next time you're out with some friends, and one of those friends happens to be someone like me that just happens to buy a shot or two, and you're looking for something to toast to (pretty standard fare in sunny Jamestown), I ask you to raise your glass and say, "this one's for Al." I know he'd appreciate it, and I know that he'd buy you one back.
Until next time, friends and neighbors... as always...
R
Regardless, here goes. Josh, my next door neighbor came over tonight after doing his second job. That's right, his second job lets out at 9:30PM on a Monday night. So, around 9:45, there's a knock on my door... I know before getting off the couch exactly who it is. I don't think that I've written about Josh since I started this thing, and I feel pretty bad about it... so maybe it's time that I give him his just due, or due diligence, or whatever you want to call it.
Across the hall from me, dwells a soul that is truly a free spirit... one of the nicest people I have ever met, and one of the most honest and "real" people I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. His name is Josh. I call him "Kramer." If you have ever seen an episode of Seinfeld, you will know exactly what I'm talking about. He's textbook Kramer... the guy that knocks on your door out of nowhere, comes in with a good take on whatever you're dealing with, has a couple beers, and calls it a night. Every time he comes over here, we'll just sit and talk about virtually nothing. However, that "nothing" conversation always blossoms into so much more. There's conversations about women, about relationships, about his job and mine, and pretty much anything under the sun that you would want to talk to someone across the hall that drinks your beer and smokes your cigarettes about. Was that considered a run-on sentence?
So we have a couple of beers, and a couple of Josh's friends call him on his cell... pretty much for the same reason that I enjoy talking to him so much... he's got a good take on everything, and there's no bullshit... just a flat out good kid, whose innocence and honesty are so sobering that you'd think that you just spent 10 years in AA (not to knock AA at all... I have a friend that's going on his 2nd year of sobriety and I couldn't be more proud of him). Please don't think for a second that I feel that innocence and/or honesty are bad traits by any stretch of the imagination, but rather honorable traits that I wish more people I dealt with had. I love having the priveledge of having him live across the hall... I think that he. more or less, grounds me.... that he brings me back to reality and gives me a taste of what it's like to be in his shoes. Don't get me wrong... I don't want to say that he's some poverty-stricken loser... he does what he loves, and does whatever it takes because he loves what he does. I have an enormous respect for that.
Not to get off the "what a good guy Josh is" tip, but here's the story. We were watching TV, which pretty much consists of him drinking my beer and me flipping channels, when we came upon some show where there were a bunch of people carrying a casket... pall bearers. Immediately it sparked a response in me. A few years ago, I was a pall bearer for one of my best friend's dad. To be as candid as I can, I didn't like it. Honestly, I felt too close... like I was carrying someone that I cared about so much that I can't put it into words, to someplace where I knew I would never see them again. I felt like the grim reaper. I felt like I was putting that person somewhere that would be so final, so conclusive, and such an end to such an animated life that my doing this was only hurting one of the few people outside of my family that I do, in fact, consider part of my family. I hope that if he reads this, that he knows how important he is to me, and that I do love him like a brother. I pray that my carrying his father to his final resting place brought some solace and comfort to him, and that he knows how much I cared for and respected his father. I also hope that if he somehow happens to stumble upon this post that he knows that he has the most beautiful daughter that I have ever seen, and that I can see so much of his mother and father in that little girl. He recently had another one, and I'm sure she's gorgeous, but I haven't had the pleasure of her acquaintance just yet.
To get back to my original point, I had mentioned that I said to Josh that I didn't like being a pall bearer. He was very quick to retort with, "why not?" I told him the whole story that I talked about earlier, and he had what I thought was a great response. He said that there's no greater honor than laying someone down for the last time... someone that you loved. He followed that up with something like, "if it were you, would you rather have someone that you barely knew carry your lifeless body?" That kind of made me think... and I think he's pretty right on with what he said. If it were me, yes, I think I'd like to have my best friends carry me to where my body would forever reside. Prior to this conversation, I didn't give it a second thought... I didn't really care. What that little pottery teacher from across the hall said both made me feel good about the whole carrying one of my best friend's father thing, and about my own mortality.
I think about my friend's father a lot. Not just so much about the funny stories that I've told about a zillion times, but about how much he cared about and loved his son that was 3,000 miles away at school... about the times when we went to dinner or played golf and he wouldn't hear of any of us paying for anything just because he knew that we were important to his son. There was nothing that he wouldn't do for any of us "kids," just because we were friends with his son. Back when I lived in Jamestown, every now and again, me and the rest of our little clique would go and visit my friend's father from time to time. Regardless of what time of night or day it was (usually night), he was always thrilled to see us. I have to believe that it brought back the memories of when we shared times with him and his son, and the joy he took in watching his son grow into what he eventually became. To take a quck sidebar here, his son, one of my best friends, is now a Vice President of one of the biggest banks in the world, has a lovely wife, and two wonderful daughters. I know that his father is looking down on them right now, wearing his driving cap, light blue short-sleeved striped golf shirt and khaki pants, screwing a Merit cigarette into his lips, yelling at that great bartender in the sky for a shot of Old Grand Dad, and he's smiling.
I've got a ton more that I could write about my friend's father... let's call him "Al," but that's another post. For now, that's all I'm going to put in print about "Al" and my friend. I could literally go on for hours on "Al" stories, but I'm going to call it quits for tonight. Besides, I'm wearing out the backspace key on my keyboard.
The only thing that I'll leave you with is that the next time you're out with some friends, and one of those friends happens to be someone like me that just happens to buy a shot or two, and you're looking for something to toast to (pretty standard fare in sunny Jamestown), I ask you to raise your glass and say, "this one's for Al." I know he'd appreciate it, and I know that he'd buy you one back.
Until next time, friends and neighbors... as always...
R
Monday, January 24, 2005
I blame tuna fish!
My first day of my week of being gainfully unemployed... hmmm... what to do, what to do. So far today, I've gotten my mail, eaten some pasta, taken a shower, and sent a text message... not necessarily in that order. I think I might eventually get really motivated and make it to the couch for a few hours of Playstation. I know, it's tough not to stop reading now... the raw, unfiltered excitement of my life grabs your attention like a runaway train full of puppies and lollipops, but I'll try to bring it down a bit.
I re-read my last post just a few minutes ago, and someone had posted a comment. It said that "wisdom is revealed through actions, not words." I think I like that.... a little too Confucious-esque for my tastes, but I do like the point that this person's making. Not in the jaded, cynical, sarcastic way that I would typically respond to something; if you know me, you know that I would typically rip any post that remotely disagreed with whatever rant of midless babble that I throw up on this thing... but I thought that was well put. I'm going to write that again. "Wisdom is revealed through actions, not words." I think that's very well said... kind of like when you learn something through lecture (I'm thinking a classroom setting here), I don't think you really retain it until you can put it to practical use. I think that's why I always did well in math... the teacher would tell me/us/the class how to do something, demonstrate it, and then have us work out some problems on our own. Now granted, I hated pretty much every math teacher that I ever had, but I actually did learn a few things. My sterling GPA should reflect that. Ever notice that it's really hard to express sarcasm in print, by the way?
Seriously, though... enough of the complimentary monologue praising someone else's comment, I'm going to babble a little more on my own thoughts.
There is one thing that's bumming me out today... I have virtually nothing to do. I guess that's the price you pay for having friends that are actually employed. Yes, I know that I've been unemployed for exactly a day, but I'm going stir crazy here. Voluntary unemployment... never thought I'd see the day. When I got laid off from a former job, it was kind of a blessing... beginning of summer, the company isn't doing well... yada, yada, yada, but quite honestly, I felt like such a loser. To have a company tell you that your services are no longer required makes you feel like such a chump. The worst part of it wasn't that I was no longer working... it was more that when I would meet someone and they would ask me what I do, my standard response was, "nothing." I would then have to say, "I just got laid off... my position was eliminated."
Why is it that everyone, myself included, feels the need to justify and qualify anything that's not going well? Why can't we just say something like, "I'm not working," instead of, "well, I'm not working because my position was eliminated because the company is poorly run and because my boss was a moron"? I think it's much more satisfying if you take accountability for putting yourself in that situation. I'm not real big on excuses because I think that you really have to assume responsibilty for whatever actions or decisions you take/make. This is the reason I have a hard time with that, "everything happens for a reason" philosophy. If everything happens for a reason, that gives me the idea that I'm not in control... that no matter what I do, whatever happens was therefore, supposed to happen. Now, this may seem fairly elementary, that you should be accountable, but think about it. How many times has some moron at work done something that screwed over a bunch of people, delayed a deal, added time to a project, forgot to set the timer on the fries, and then proceeded to spray a virtual deluge of excuses on why he didn't do whatever it was that he was supposed to do. This pisses me off.
I touched on this before, but in my old office (the job I just left), there are people in there that blame everything, everyone and anything for why they're not successful in their chosen profession. "Oh, the economy's bad and no one has any money." "I can't even say 'hi' without them saying that they're not interested in whatever I'm selling." "This is a horrible time of year to try to sell anything." What-f'ing-ever, people. I don't mean to sound like some sort of sales nazi, but, for crying out loud, you've been doing this for 3 months now, coming in every day claiming that you have 12 appointments for the week, and not selling a single f'ing thing. Take some responsibility. Maybe you could have done some things differently. Maybe you should shave off that fledgling pseuso-rock-star-half-goatee thing off your chin. Or maybe, just maybe, you should just accept that this thing isn't for you. There's no shame in that... we all make bad decisions. I, for one, am guilty of that sin many times over.
The point that I'm making here is to just be accountable. Don't blame your mother for you not being able to commit to a relationship. Don't blame your neighbor for you staying up until 4AM drinking tequila and then having a five alarm hangover the next day and being worthless at work (I would never, ever do anything like that). And, lastly, don't blame a stupid fundraising company for you breaking your hand because they sent you 1,750 lbs. of sample material that you tried to move out of your two bedroom apartment and then puched one of the boxes that you thought was empty (again, I would never, ever in a million years do something like that). That's just silly.
So that's the rant for today. I apologize if it's a little "holier than thou," but again, this is my blog, and I'll have a God complex if I want it... at least just for today. So there.
Gotta run, that game of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas isn't going to save itself.
Until whenever...
R
I re-read my last post just a few minutes ago, and someone had posted a comment. It said that "wisdom is revealed through actions, not words." I think I like that.... a little too Confucious-esque for my tastes, but I do like the point that this person's making. Not in the jaded, cynical, sarcastic way that I would typically respond to something; if you know me, you know that I would typically rip any post that remotely disagreed with whatever rant of midless babble that I throw up on this thing... but I thought that was well put. I'm going to write that again. "Wisdom is revealed through actions, not words." I think that's very well said... kind of like when you learn something through lecture (I'm thinking a classroom setting here), I don't think you really retain it until you can put it to practical use. I think that's why I always did well in math... the teacher would tell me/us/the class how to do something, demonstrate it, and then have us work out some problems on our own. Now granted, I hated pretty much every math teacher that I ever had, but I actually did learn a few things. My sterling GPA should reflect that. Ever notice that it's really hard to express sarcasm in print, by the way?
Seriously, though... enough of the complimentary monologue praising someone else's comment, I'm going to babble a little more on my own thoughts.
There is one thing that's bumming me out today... I have virtually nothing to do. I guess that's the price you pay for having friends that are actually employed. Yes, I know that I've been unemployed for exactly a day, but I'm going stir crazy here. Voluntary unemployment... never thought I'd see the day. When I got laid off from a former job, it was kind of a blessing... beginning of summer, the company isn't doing well... yada, yada, yada, but quite honestly, I felt like such a loser. To have a company tell you that your services are no longer required makes you feel like such a chump. The worst part of it wasn't that I was no longer working... it was more that when I would meet someone and they would ask me what I do, my standard response was, "nothing." I would then have to say, "I just got laid off... my position was eliminated."
Why is it that everyone, myself included, feels the need to justify and qualify anything that's not going well? Why can't we just say something like, "I'm not working," instead of, "well, I'm not working because my position was eliminated because the company is poorly run and because my boss was a moron"? I think it's much more satisfying if you take accountability for putting yourself in that situation. I'm not real big on excuses because I think that you really have to assume responsibilty for whatever actions or decisions you take/make. This is the reason I have a hard time with that, "everything happens for a reason" philosophy. If everything happens for a reason, that gives me the idea that I'm not in control... that no matter what I do, whatever happens was therefore, supposed to happen. Now, this may seem fairly elementary, that you should be accountable, but think about it. How many times has some moron at work done something that screwed over a bunch of people, delayed a deal, added time to a project, forgot to set the timer on the fries, and then proceeded to spray a virtual deluge of excuses on why he didn't do whatever it was that he was supposed to do. This pisses me off.
I touched on this before, but in my old office (the job I just left), there are people in there that blame everything, everyone and anything for why they're not successful in their chosen profession. "Oh, the economy's bad and no one has any money." "I can't even say 'hi' without them saying that they're not interested in whatever I'm selling." "This is a horrible time of year to try to sell anything." What-f'ing-ever, people. I don't mean to sound like some sort of sales nazi, but, for crying out loud, you've been doing this for 3 months now, coming in every day claiming that you have 12 appointments for the week, and not selling a single f'ing thing. Take some responsibility. Maybe you could have done some things differently. Maybe you should shave off that fledgling pseuso-rock-star-half-goatee thing off your chin. Or maybe, just maybe, you should just accept that this thing isn't for you. There's no shame in that... we all make bad decisions. I, for one, am guilty of that sin many times over.
The point that I'm making here is to just be accountable. Don't blame your mother for you not being able to commit to a relationship. Don't blame your neighbor for you staying up until 4AM drinking tequila and then having a five alarm hangover the next day and being worthless at work (I would never, ever do anything like that). And, lastly, don't blame a stupid fundraising company for you breaking your hand because they sent you 1,750 lbs. of sample material that you tried to move out of your two bedroom apartment and then puched one of the boxes that you thought was empty (again, I would never, ever in a million years do something like that). That's just silly.
So that's the rant for today. I apologize if it's a little "holier than thou," but again, this is my blog, and I'll have a God complex if I want it... at least just for today. So there.
Gotta run, that game of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas isn't going to save itself.
Until whenever...
R
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Maybe you could do me a favor...
So here we are, back again... sunny frickin' Rochester, NY, and there's roughly 984 feet of snow on the ground. Notice that I said "roughly," so that's really just an estimate. Know what I hate most about the f'ing snow? Lemme tell ya. I f'ing hate having to trudge out there at 5:00 every day, except Sunday of course, to brush all that white crap off my car, just about break my f'ing hand (again) getting the lock open, using a f'ing crowbar to get the door open because of the ice, climbing in, turning the key that's now turned to some sort of ice-shiv in my hand, starting the f'ing thing, turning on the defrogers, front and rear, getting back out of the block of ice that is now my vehicle, using a f'ing hammer and chisel so that I can see out the damn window, brushing more of that slop off the hood and onto me (yeah, that's smart), and moving the whole f'ing mess to the other side of the street. If the cops in this town weren't all pretty much the Hitler Youth Movement of 2000 and beyond, I wouldn't even bother... but they are, so I do. That, my friends, is the biggest pain in the ass on the planet. "Yeah, no, I don't have off street parking, but it won't be a big deal... besides, the rent is really attractive." Yeah, ya know why the rent is so attractive? Because what you're saving in rent, you have to make up in snowshoes... I now own 26 pairs, in every color of the rainbow, mind you.
But whaddyagonnado? You gotta do it, or you pay the price. Go through all that crap so that you can live to park another day. Yes, I've had my share of parking tickets, and yes, I've had my car towed... which sucks out loud. I hate those people... just go trolling around town, looking for someone who's an inch too close to a fire hydrant, then towing them 20 miles away and charging them $100 the next day to get their own car back... if that isn't extortion, I don't know what is. Biggest hose job on the planet, but that's a whole other posting that I'm sure I'll revisit.
I guess that's kind of my mantra... do it or pay the price. I won't say that it's my mantra by choice, it's really more of something that's been thrust upon me. Well, on second thought, not just me (I'm not that special), but I think that's pretty much how it works for everyone; in business and in life. Think about it... if you're at work and you don't send out a contract to a customer, punch the clock on time, add up your tips, zero out your register, or whatever it is you do when you do whatever it is you do, there is a price to be paid. Same thing in life... if you don't make that phone call you said you'd make, pick up your buddy at the airport when you said you would, or go break into a friend's house to make sure that the water was still running so that the pipes didn't freeze and burst... there is a price to be paid. Decidedly, a different price than in the professional world, but a price just the same. The thing is... we all do it. We all make those decisions every day. Is it the fear of the price that we'll pay? Is that why we do the things we do, or is there another reason? Don't expect me to post the answer here... I don't know it. It's really more of a rhetorical thing.
I think that when you boil it all down, it's just how you're put together. I don't really think that when you actually initiate an action, you're not considering the consequences of if you don't do it. They say that for every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction, but who really thinks about that? I had a friend that asked me to pick him up at the airport not too long ago... I said "sure." I didn't think about, "well, what if I say sure and then don't," or, "what's the consequence if I just tell him to go screw," I just did it... no big deal.
I sincerely think that I've been blessed with a group of friends that, for the most part, do the same thing... just react and do what's right. I once heard that after you do someone a favor, that you're in a very powerful position... that when someone thanks you for doing something, you should exercise that power for the future... that you should say, "you're welcome, and I know that if I needed a favor, you'd do the same for me." I don't think I like that... I think that puts a real damper on the fabric of society. Essentially what that says to me is that you only do favors because you can get something out of it. Maybe using the phrase, "fabric of society" is a little melodramatic. Maybe something like, "superfluous interaction of homosapiens" is better. Nah... considering that I'm not really sure what "superfluous" means, and I could be taking that way out of context. Regardless... sorry to sidebar, by the way... I think it's just about who we are. I know that was a long way to go for that, but again, it's my f'ing blog and I'll ramble if I want to. So there.
So that's it for tonight... gotta run... there's a snowbrush that's expecting me.
Ciao.
But whaddyagonnado? You gotta do it, or you pay the price. Go through all that crap so that you can live to park another day. Yes, I've had my share of parking tickets, and yes, I've had my car towed... which sucks out loud. I hate those people... just go trolling around town, looking for someone who's an inch too close to a fire hydrant, then towing them 20 miles away and charging them $100 the next day to get their own car back... if that isn't extortion, I don't know what is. Biggest hose job on the planet, but that's a whole other posting that I'm sure I'll revisit.
I guess that's kind of my mantra... do it or pay the price. I won't say that it's my mantra by choice, it's really more of something that's been thrust upon me. Well, on second thought, not just me (I'm not that special), but I think that's pretty much how it works for everyone; in business and in life. Think about it... if you're at work and you don't send out a contract to a customer, punch the clock on time, add up your tips, zero out your register, or whatever it is you do when you do whatever it is you do, there is a price to be paid. Same thing in life... if you don't make that phone call you said you'd make, pick up your buddy at the airport when you said you would, or go break into a friend's house to make sure that the water was still running so that the pipes didn't freeze and burst... there is a price to be paid. Decidedly, a different price than in the professional world, but a price just the same. The thing is... we all do it. We all make those decisions every day. Is it the fear of the price that we'll pay? Is that why we do the things we do, or is there another reason? Don't expect me to post the answer here... I don't know it. It's really more of a rhetorical thing.
I think that when you boil it all down, it's just how you're put together. I don't really think that when you actually initiate an action, you're not considering the consequences of if you don't do it. They say that for every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction, but who really thinks about that? I had a friend that asked me to pick him up at the airport not too long ago... I said "sure." I didn't think about, "well, what if I say sure and then don't," or, "what's the consequence if I just tell him to go screw," I just did it... no big deal.
I sincerely think that I've been blessed with a group of friends that, for the most part, do the same thing... just react and do what's right. I once heard that after you do someone a favor, that you're in a very powerful position... that when someone thanks you for doing something, you should exercise that power for the future... that you should say, "you're welcome, and I know that if I needed a favor, you'd do the same for me." I don't think I like that... I think that puts a real damper on the fabric of society. Essentially what that says to me is that you only do favors because you can get something out of it. Maybe using the phrase, "fabric of society" is a little melodramatic. Maybe something like, "superfluous interaction of homosapiens" is better. Nah... considering that I'm not really sure what "superfluous" means, and I could be taking that way out of context. Regardless... sorry to sidebar, by the way... I think it's just about who we are. I know that was a long way to go for that, but again, it's my f'ing blog and I'll ramble if I want to. So there.
So that's it for tonight... gotta run... there's a snowbrush that's expecting me.
Ciao.
Friday, January 21, 2005
The gut shot
What can I say... it's done, it's over... I quit my job. Much to my surprise, it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. I really thought that my boss would give me some long pitch about how I hadn't given the job 100% or a fair shot or whatever. He was actually very cool about it. Not that I thought that he would be a dick, but I think that he had the attitude that I had made up my mind, and that there was really no point in arguing. He did ask a few questions; why, what, when... yada, yada, yada... but I think he knew that my mind was made up. He was obviously disappointed, and said that he was very surprised because I was performing very well and had every confidence in me. To be honest, that was nice to hear, and I thanked him for his candor and compliments.
Why is it, that no matter what decision I make, even if I know it's the right one or it's for my own good or whatever, that I always wind up second guessing myself. It seems like I always have a hard time with that. Is it human nature? Maybe, maybe not. Buyer's remorse? I think that's more the case. I hate to leave something that I knew was good, that I had no malice for, in order to pursue something that I'm pretty sure is going to be better. Maybe it's the gambler in me, or maybe it's that "hunter/gatherer" menatality that has been instilled into my psyche since the beginning of time, in which case I can blame leaving good jobs and good relationships on some caveman that died a zillion years ago. I'm going with that.
I've always believed that your choices are half chance. The reason I believe this is that if someone, anyone had all the answers and always made the right choice, there would be virtually no conflict in the world. All you'd have to do is call some "answer guy," and say, "hey, answer dude, do I get rid of this broad and go out to find something else, something better, something more compatible, or do I stay right where I am because this is the best fit for me?" Well, if the answer guy were one of my friends, the standard answer would be, "get yourself a bottle of tequila, a hooker, and a prescription for penicillin, then stick it out with the first broad." I'd like answer guy to have a more definitive answer than that. I guess that's what makes life, love, and human interaction so interesting; that you never really know the outcome of anything until it happens. That's why I love sports. I know that's a great segue analogy, comparing leaving a job to leaving a woman (or man or whatever the case may be) and ultimately to sports... yeah, that's what I do. But I'm not getting into the whole sports thing now... promise.
Anyway, back to my point, and I do have one. Essentially what I'm getting at is that if you're presented with an opportunity, I think you have to go with your gut. Unfortunately, there is no answer guy... not yet, anyway... but rest assured, somebody somewhere is working on it. When I moved to Rochester from Jamestown, it was an extremely difficult decision. I was leaving the town I grew up in for 24 years, a great group of friends, my family, and I was also leaving someone very special behind. The thing was, that if I didn't leave, I never would have known what I would have been missing, and right now I'd probably be writing about that whole "ignorance is bliss" thing. Ya know what? It turned out for the best; I'm still close with my friends, I'm actually closer with my family than I have ever been, and the someone special that I left behind is doing great. I'm sure she agrees that we're much better off friends than the path that we were headed down. I know at the time that I broke her heart, and for that I felt, and still feel horrible when I think about it, but I went with my gut and I think it turned out for the best. Where was that damn answer guy then? Maybe I'm the answer guy. Nah... I couldn't be the answer guy... I'd have better hair if I was the answer guy.
So that's the rant for today... going with the gut. That's all I got. Until next time... this is random answer guy... ciao.
By the way... heading to Johnny's Irish Pub (www.johnnyssmokefree.com) tonight (just about the best bar in Rochester). John Akers is playing and always draws a great crowd... very talented acoustic and piano player with a great voice. Check him out sometime if you've never seen him. Now there's an answer I can be definitive about.
R
Why is it, that no matter what decision I make, even if I know it's the right one or it's for my own good or whatever, that I always wind up second guessing myself. It seems like I always have a hard time with that. Is it human nature? Maybe, maybe not. Buyer's remorse? I think that's more the case. I hate to leave something that I knew was good, that I had no malice for, in order to pursue something that I'm pretty sure is going to be better. Maybe it's the gambler in me, or maybe it's that "hunter/gatherer" menatality that has been instilled into my psyche since the beginning of time, in which case I can blame leaving good jobs and good relationships on some caveman that died a zillion years ago. I'm going with that.
I've always believed that your choices are half chance. The reason I believe this is that if someone, anyone had all the answers and always made the right choice, there would be virtually no conflict in the world. All you'd have to do is call some "answer guy," and say, "hey, answer dude, do I get rid of this broad and go out to find something else, something better, something more compatible, or do I stay right where I am because this is the best fit for me?" Well, if the answer guy were one of my friends, the standard answer would be, "get yourself a bottle of tequila, a hooker, and a prescription for penicillin, then stick it out with the first broad." I'd like answer guy to have a more definitive answer than that. I guess that's what makes life, love, and human interaction so interesting; that you never really know the outcome of anything until it happens. That's why I love sports. I know that's a great segue analogy, comparing leaving a job to leaving a woman (or man or whatever the case may be) and ultimately to sports... yeah, that's what I do. But I'm not getting into the whole sports thing now... promise.
Anyway, back to my point, and I do have one. Essentially what I'm getting at is that if you're presented with an opportunity, I think you have to go with your gut. Unfortunately, there is no answer guy... not yet, anyway... but rest assured, somebody somewhere is working on it. When I moved to Rochester from Jamestown, it was an extremely difficult decision. I was leaving the town I grew up in for 24 years, a great group of friends, my family, and I was also leaving someone very special behind. The thing was, that if I didn't leave, I never would have known what I would have been missing, and right now I'd probably be writing about that whole "ignorance is bliss" thing. Ya know what? It turned out for the best; I'm still close with my friends, I'm actually closer with my family than I have ever been, and the someone special that I left behind is doing great. I'm sure she agrees that we're much better off friends than the path that we were headed down. I know at the time that I broke her heart, and for that I felt, and still feel horrible when I think about it, but I went with my gut and I think it turned out for the best. Where was that damn answer guy then? Maybe I'm the answer guy. Nah... I couldn't be the answer guy... I'd have better hair if I was the answer guy.
So that's the rant for today... going with the gut. That's all I got. Until next time... this is random answer guy... ciao.
By the way... heading to Johnny's Irish Pub (www.johnnyssmokefree.com) tonight (just about the best bar in Rochester). John Akers is playing and always draws a great crowd... very talented acoustic and piano player with a great voice. Check him out sometime if you've never seen him. Now there's an answer I can be definitive about.
R
Breaking up with the boss
So here it is... 10:39 PM, Eastern Standard Time... the night before my last few hours at my current company. In a way, it's kind of a bummer. I've only been there two months, they've treated me pretty well, and spent a good chunk of change on me for training, but I guess that's the risk you run when you hire someone; that they won't be an inconsiderate tool that's going to milk you for a couple month's salary and ditch when they have a better offer.
What's going to suck is when I go in there and hand my boss my letter of resignation, he's going to use every weapon in his arsenal to get me to stay. I get it... he's invested a lot of time and money in me & my development, and he's looking for a return on his investment. I get it, makes sense, and I'd do the same thing if I were in his shoes. The thing of it is that I'm not unhappy there; it's really just dollars and cents (or sense, I'm not sure how that cliche is supposed to sound... I guess the latter is more profound, but I really don't care). The money thing, the benefits thing, the company car thing... all good things... better than I have now.
Does it sound like I'm trying to justify leaving? Does it sound vaguely like I'm trying to validate my decision to move on? Well, maybe that's because I am. I honestly feel bad, and like I've been lying to them for the last week... because, let's be honest here, I've been getting paid for doing pretty much nothing for the last 5 days. I hate feeling like I'm screwing these guys, probably because I am. Then again, the other side of the coin is that when I got laid off from a job that I really liked back in March of '04, it wasn't a personal thing, and my former boss told me that he felt like he was screwing me (figuratively, not literally... otherwise I'd be retired by now with a nice sexual harassment settlement), but the company had to lose some "redundant overhead." Said company has since laid off another 124 people that were "redundant overhead," and also lost a huge customer that was contributing $8.5M/year to their bottom line. But, yeah... it was a good idea to get rid of me. Ever notice that it's really hard to express sarcasm in print? I did, just then.
Anyway... back to my point. Never mind, I don't think I have one. I guess you could equate this to a breakup... both parties are just cruising along, it's going well, and then one decides to jet because they have a better offer. It's not a personal thing (well, I guess it really is, but I'm going for substance here). It's more that you have to look out for yourself. I know that the "grass is always greener," but when it's painfully obvious that you'll be happier someplace else, regardless of how good things are going, then you have to move on. Case in point... one of my best friend's parents got divorced about 10 years ago. Did they have a good marriage? I thought so, but what did I know... I never really talked to either one of them about their marital bliss. Did they seem happy? Sure, as happy as someone who's legally bound and contractually obligated to another individual could be. Are they both better off now? Absolutely. Was my friend upset? Sure he was, for about 5 minutes. The reason I say that is because this is what he told me; "Rich man, they'll both be happier, and that's all I really care about. This isn't about me." Truer words were never spoken, and I think that's the attitude that I have to have tomorrow. Honestly, we'll both be better off... both me and my boss. If I stay, I'll always wonder what would have happened with that other, higher paying, company car having, better benefits giving, cooler job. Also, my boss is going to be better off because... well... never mind, I guess he won't really be better off... he's getting screwed. Oh, wait... no, I got it... he'll be better off because I would be unhappy and it would reflect in my work, subsequently and ultimately costing the company money. There... how's that for justification? See? It's a good move for both of us.
It was tough to type up that letter of resignation, because I really do wish both him and the company the best... they're new to ultra-conservative Rochester, so for a new business to come in, they're going to need a little luck. I do think that they'll succeed, but unfortunately they won't have me to thank for it. Bummer.
So there... I justified and validated as best I could. I don't really feel any better about it, though. It's for the best. It's a good move. It's the right thing to do, both personally and professionally. I feel happy. I feel healthy. I feel terrific. There, I said it. Now it feels better... well, kinda.
Wow... so the next time I post, I'll technically be unemployed. There's a certain dignity to that... just the fact that it's by choice, and I called my own shot. There... that's all I needed.
Now I really do feel better... or maybe it's the tequila talking again.
Until unemployment... that's it for now. In the immortal words of Jimmy Buffett (my hero), "drink it up, this one's for you... it's been a lovely cruise."
What's going to suck is when I go in there and hand my boss my letter of resignation, he's going to use every weapon in his arsenal to get me to stay. I get it... he's invested a lot of time and money in me & my development, and he's looking for a return on his investment. I get it, makes sense, and I'd do the same thing if I were in his shoes. The thing of it is that I'm not unhappy there; it's really just dollars and cents (or sense, I'm not sure how that cliche is supposed to sound... I guess the latter is more profound, but I really don't care). The money thing, the benefits thing, the company car thing... all good things... better than I have now.
Does it sound like I'm trying to justify leaving? Does it sound vaguely like I'm trying to validate my decision to move on? Well, maybe that's because I am. I honestly feel bad, and like I've been lying to them for the last week... because, let's be honest here, I've been getting paid for doing pretty much nothing for the last 5 days. I hate feeling like I'm screwing these guys, probably because I am. Then again, the other side of the coin is that when I got laid off from a job that I really liked back in March of '04, it wasn't a personal thing, and my former boss told me that he felt like he was screwing me (figuratively, not literally... otherwise I'd be retired by now with a nice sexual harassment settlement), but the company had to lose some "redundant overhead." Said company has since laid off another 124 people that were "redundant overhead," and also lost a huge customer that was contributing $8.5M/year to their bottom line. But, yeah... it was a good idea to get rid of me. Ever notice that it's really hard to express sarcasm in print? I did, just then.
Anyway... back to my point. Never mind, I don't think I have one. I guess you could equate this to a breakup... both parties are just cruising along, it's going well, and then one decides to jet because they have a better offer. It's not a personal thing (well, I guess it really is, but I'm going for substance here). It's more that you have to look out for yourself. I know that the "grass is always greener," but when it's painfully obvious that you'll be happier someplace else, regardless of how good things are going, then you have to move on. Case in point... one of my best friend's parents got divorced about 10 years ago. Did they have a good marriage? I thought so, but what did I know... I never really talked to either one of them about their marital bliss. Did they seem happy? Sure, as happy as someone who's legally bound and contractually obligated to another individual could be. Are they both better off now? Absolutely. Was my friend upset? Sure he was, for about 5 minutes. The reason I say that is because this is what he told me; "Rich man, they'll both be happier, and that's all I really care about. This isn't about me." Truer words were never spoken, and I think that's the attitude that I have to have tomorrow. Honestly, we'll both be better off... both me and my boss. If I stay, I'll always wonder what would have happened with that other, higher paying, company car having, better benefits giving, cooler job. Also, my boss is going to be better off because... well... never mind, I guess he won't really be better off... he's getting screwed. Oh, wait... no, I got it... he'll be better off because I would be unhappy and it would reflect in my work, subsequently and ultimately costing the company money. There... how's that for justification? See? It's a good move for both of us.
It was tough to type up that letter of resignation, because I really do wish both him and the company the best... they're new to ultra-conservative Rochester, so for a new business to come in, they're going to need a little luck. I do think that they'll succeed, but unfortunately they won't have me to thank for it. Bummer.
So there... I justified and validated as best I could. I don't really feel any better about it, though. It's for the best. It's a good move. It's the right thing to do, both personally and professionally. I feel happy. I feel healthy. I feel terrific. There, I said it. Now it feels better... well, kinda.
Wow... so the next time I post, I'll technically be unemployed. There's a certain dignity to that... just the fact that it's by choice, and I called my own shot. There... that's all I needed.
Now I really do feel better... or maybe it's the tequila talking again.
Until unemployment... that's it for now. In the immortal words of Jimmy Buffett (my hero), "drink it up, this one's for you... it's been a lovely cruise."
Thursday, January 20, 2005
The last night in Sin City
Hmm... well, I looked at an earlier post that I wrote, and it got me thinking about the last Vegas trip, and that it's only 111 days until I visit that amazing city once again. The last trip was the best trip ever, for a number of reasons. Unfortunately, the best one didn't happen until my last night there, and I wound up missing my 6:30 AM flight because of it... nevertheless, I'd do it all over again.
On the last night of the last trip, me & my comrades decided to go have dinner at Harrah's... pretty awesome; it's all outside, with a stage and dance floor, blackjack tables, and stands outside where I got a really cool cowboy hat. ;) Regardless... after dinner and about 984 margaritas, a couple of us decided that it would be a great idea to hit the dance floor. I can't dance. Period.
So anyway, after the margaritas convinced me that I am Prince, Michael Jackson, MC Hammer and Kid 'n' Play all rolled into one, to the dance floor I staggered. So there we are... 3 guys from New York that have had way too much to drink, standing on the edge of the dance floor, watching. I don't know what made us/me believe that we would immediately be acosted by hundreds of bikini models that were just aching to see us... but that didn't immediately happen. Oh yeah, I remember what it was that made me believe that... might have been the tequila. Regardless, there we are, pretty much just looking around and looking desperate (well, not that desperate), and I saw her. Her who, you may ask. Lemme tell ya.
Her was a beautiful blonde sitting at a table next to the dance floor whose eyes met mine like Kyra Sedgwick's met Campbell Scott's in Singles (great movie, by the way). I stared at her from about 10 feet away for what seemed like a solid half hour, although that could have been the tequila thing again. The cool thing was that she stared right back. Now I'm sure it was only a second or two, but in my mind, on that night, at that bar, in that city, wearing that hat, it was a solid half hour. At this point, I did something that I would never, ever (well, maybe once in a while) do. I think it was the perfect blend of an 80* Vegas night, a cowboy hat that was making me feel pretty bad-ass, and just the right amount of tequila that made me do what I did. I walked over, I think I asked her to dance, grabbed her hand, and led her to the dance floor. We stayed out there, dancing pretty close for a couple of songs, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. Now, again, I must revisit this; I can't dance. Period. But at that moment in time, I WAS a backup dancer for Britney.
OK, back to the story. So we're dancing away, and some song comes on that we didn't want to hear, so back to her table we go. My friends have now deserted me, so I'm flying solo... no wingman, no tower, no nothin'. Anyway, I sit down, and she's got two friends with her... for the life of me, I can't remember either of their names. I don't think I did two seconds after I heard them, but it didn't really matter at the time. I buy the table a round of shots, and I still cannot take my eyes off of this girl. We were talking back and forth like we had known each other for years. Totally comfortable, and fueled by tequila, back to the dance floor we went. Only this time, not for two songs, but for two hours, stopping only to rehydrate with more tequila. Did I have a lot to drink? Yeah, but I can still remember what that place smelled like, what kind of shoes she was wearing, and I can describe the horseshoe necklace that she was wearing, just like Carrie from Sex in the City. Stunning.
So there we are, me in my cowboy hat, and she in her necklace, dancing the night away in Las Vegas, when suddenly, the unexpected happens. What happened you may ask? I'll tell you what happened. Some drunk idiot (not me this time) decided to start some neanderthal-style shoving match with some other chicklet-lobed morlock. What resulted from that little altercation was me getting tossed over a table and slamming my head into the wall right next to the stage. Luckily, my dance partner was unharmed. When I did collect myself and get to my feet, I was all set to start throwing... I'm from NY and we're supposed to be assertive, ya know. All of a sudden, something came over me and I just stood there with my dance partner. OK... tradgedy averted, and back to the dance floor we go. To this day, I can still hear Beyonce's "Naughty Girl" resonating off the wall of the hotel that's standing next to us. Anyway, shortly thereafter, we decide it's time to go... but we can't figure out where. The logical thing at the time was to walk down the strip and go in someplace... it's Vegas for Chrissakes! At that point, friends and neighbors, we walked into an absolute dive. I have no idea what the name of it was... something like... geez, I have no idea, but I do remember that it was dark, smoky, and that some dude arbitrarily decided to start showing us pics of his kids... again, made sense at the time.
Because in my mind I'm now a Backstreet Boy as far as dancing goes, we order a couple drinks and hit the dance floor... oh my dear lord. This girl can actually dance... but again, I'm in N'Sync now, so I can too. Anyway, a few hundred Budweisers later, we head back to the hotel... it's getting close to 4AM, and I'm on a plane headed back to NY in about two hours. The smart move would have been to head back up to my room, pack my stuff, and head to the airport, but in the state of mind I was in, that wasn't the logical move... again, it might have been the tequila talking.
We walk into the hotel, sit down at the bar, I feed the video poker machine a couple twentys and order a couple drinks. The entire time we're playing, we're talking a little, and probably the dumbest idea ever pops into my mind... "wanna get married?" She laughs. "Come on, it's Vegas!" She laughs again, and reluctantly declines my offer. Probably for the best, considering I'm leaving in about an hour. By the way, she won $20 on video poker. Now, bear in mind, I haven't even kissed this girl, and I'm asking her to marry me. Call it the tequila talking or whatever, but I would have married her that night.
We're now done with poker, and decide that I should probably head out. I'm still pissed that I didn't meet her until my last night there. Regardless, we head upstairs, grab my stuff, and down to the lobby I go. She accompanied me down in the elevator, and I'm still wearing my cowboy hat... absolutely NO time to change before I left. As we stepped off the elevator into the lobby and the sunlight, I couldn't help thinking that there was a reason we went to Harrah's that night.
We said our goodbyes, hugged, and she kissed me... just outstanding. She had the softest lips ever, and I can't help but wonder what if. What if we never went to Harrah's? What if I didn't drink enough tequila to give me the guts to go up to a random girl? What if I didn't get tossed over a table and whack my head on the wall of the stage? What if she said she'd marry me?
It turns out that I did wind up missing my flight, and got to spend 6 hours on standby in the lovely Las Vegas airport... then a flight to Chicago, with a 6 hour layover, and then sitting on the runway in Chicago for 3 hours, and finally home to sunny Ra-Cha-Cha at 1:30AM... just a little tired, and unfortunately, the tequila has lost it's effect. Would I do it all over again... whack my head, act like I can dance, miss my flight, and spend an entire day on planes and sleeping in airports with a hangover that would make Dean Martin vomit? In a New York minute.
I can't remember many nights that can stand up to that one. It was virtually perfect. I hope she knows that, and how important she was to me. I just hope that someday when she's surfing the web, somehow she finds this and it makes her smile, if only half as much as it made me smile writing it.
On the last night of the last trip, me & my comrades decided to go have dinner at Harrah's... pretty awesome; it's all outside, with a stage and dance floor, blackjack tables, and stands outside where I got a really cool cowboy hat. ;) Regardless... after dinner and about 984 margaritas, a couple of us decided that it would be a great idea to hit the dance floor. I can't dance. Period.
So anyway, after the margaritas convinced me that I am Prince, Michael Jackson, MC Hammer and Kid 'n' Play all rolled into one, to the dance floor I staggered. So there we are... 3 guys from New York that have had way too much to drink, standing on the edge of the dance floor, watching. I don't know what made us/me believe that we would immediately be acosted by hundreds of bikini models that were just aching to see us... but that didn't immediately happen. Oh yeah, I remember what it was that made me believe that... might have been the tequila. Regardless, there we are, pretty much just looking around and looking desperate (well, not that desperate), and I saw her. Her who, you may ask. Lemme tell ya.
Her was a beautiful blonde sitting at a table next to the dance floor whose eyes met mine like Kyra Sedgwick's met Campbell Scott's in Singles (great movie, by the way). I stared at her from about 10 feet away for what seemed like a solid half hour, although that could have been the tequila thing again. The cool thing was that she stared right back. Now I'm sure it was only a second or two, but in my mind, on that night, at that bar, in that city, wearing that hat, it was a solid half hour. At this point, I did something that I would never, ever (well, maybe once in a while) do. I think it was the perfect blend of an 80* Vegas night, a cowboy hat that was making me feel pretty bad-ass, and just the right amount of tequila that made me do what I did. I walked over, I think I asked her to dance, grabbed her hand, and led her to the dance floor. We stayed out there, dancing pretty close for a couple of songs, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. Now, again, I must revisit this; I can't dance. Period. But at that moment in time, I WAS a backup dancer for Britney.
OK, back to the story. So we're dancing away, and some song comes on that we didn't want to hear, so back to her table we go. My friends have now deserted me, so I'm flying solo... no wingman, no tower, no nothin'. Anyway, I sit down, and she's got two friends with her... for the life of me, I can't remember either of their names. I don't think I did two seconds after I heard them, but it didn't really matter at the time. I buy the table a round of shots, and I still cannot take my eyes off of this girl. We were talking back and forth like we had known each other for years. Totally comfortable, and fueled by tequila, back to the dance floor we went. Only this time, not for two songs, but for two hours, stopping only to rehydrate with more tequila. Did I have a lot to drink? Yeah, but I can still remember what that place smelled like, what kind of shoes she was wearing, and I can describe the horseshoe necklace that she was wearing, just like Carrie from Sex in the City. Stunning.
So there we are, me in my cowboy hat, and she in her necklace, dancing the night away in Las Vegas, when suddenly, the unexpected happens. What happened you may ask? I'll tell you what happened. Some drunk idiot (not me this time) decided to start some neanderthal-style shoving match with some other chicklet-lobed morlock. What resulted from that little altercation was me getting tossed over a table and slamming my head into the wall right next to the stage. Luckily, my dance partner was unharmed. When I did collect myself and get to my feet, I was all set to start throwing... I'm from NY and we're supposed to be assertive, ya know. All of a sudden, something came over me and I just stood there with my dance partner. OK... tradgedy averted, and back to the dance floor we go. To this day, I can still hear Beyonce's "Naughty Girl" resonating off the wall of the hotel that's standing next to us. Anyway, shortly thereafter, we decide it's time to go... but we can't figure out where. The logical thing at the time was to walk down the strip and go in someplace... it's Vegas for Chrissakes! At that point, friends and neighbors, we walked into an absolute dive. I have no idea what the name of it was... something like... geez, I have no idea, but I do remember that it was dark, smoky, and that some dude arbitrarily decided to start showing us pics of his kids... again, made sense at the time.
Because in my mind I'm now a Backstreet Boy as far as dancing goes, we order a couple drinks and hit the dance floor... oh my dear lord. This girl can actually dance... but again, I'm in N'Sync now, so I can too. Anyway, a few hundred Budweisers later, we head back to the hotel... it's getting close to 4AM, and I'm on a plane headed back to NY in about two hours. The smart move would have been to head back up to my room, pack my stuff, and head to the airport, but in the state of mind I was in, that wasn't the logical move... again, it might have been the tequila talking.
We walk into the hotel, sit down at the bar, I feed the video poker machine a couple twentys and order a couple drinks. The entire time we're playing, we're talking a little, and probably the dumbest idea ever pops into my mind... "wanna get married?" She laughs. "Come on, it's Vegas!" She laughs again, and reluctantly declines my offer. Probably for the best, considering I'm leaving in about an hour. By the way, she won $20 on video poker. Now, bear in mind, I haven't even kissed this girl, and I'm asking her to marry me. Call it the tequila talking or whatever, but I would have married her that night.
We're now done with poker, and decide that I should probably head out. I'm still pissed that I didn't meet her until my last night there. Regardless, we head upstairs, grab my stuff, and down to the lobby I go. She accompanied me down in the elevator, and I'm still wearing my cowboy hat... absolutely NO time to change before I left. As we stepped off the elevator into the lobby and the sunlight, I couldn't help thinking that there was a reason we went to Harrah's that night.
We said our goodbyes, hugged, and she kissed me... just outstanding. She had the softest lips ever, and I can't help but wonder what if. What if we never went to Harrah's? What if I didn't drink enough tequila to give me the guts to go up to a random girl? What if I didn't get tossed over a table and whack my head on the wall of the stage? What if she said she'd marry me?
It turns out that I did wind up missing my flight, and got to spend 6 hours on standby in the lovely Las Vegas airport... then a flight to Chicago, with a 6 hour layover, and then sitting on the runway in Chicago for 3 hours, and finally home to sunny Ra-Cha-Cha at 1:30AM... just a little tired, and unfortunately, the tequila has lost it's effect. Would I do it all over again... whack my head, act like I can dance, miss my flight, and spend an entire day on planes and sleeping in airports with a hangover that would make Dean Martin vomit? In a New York minute.
I can't remember many nights that can stand up to that one. It was virtually perfect. I hope she knows that, and how important she was to me. I just hope that someday when she's surfing the web, somehow she finds this and it makes her smile, if only half as much as it made me smile writing it.
Work and nap time
So here we are... my next-to-last day at my current company, although they don't know it yet. I'm giving my notice tomorrow because I accepted a job with another company at double the base salary and a company car. It's not that I don't like what I'm doing now, it's really just a matter of dollars and cents. I almost feel guilty, because for the last couple of days I've been basically just going into my 8AM meeting, going to breakfast with some guys from my office, then going home, taking a nap, and watching TV for about 8 hours. See, when you're in outside sales, you can do stuff like that and get away with it. If I was going to stay with this company for a while, however, it would be a different story... but I'm not, so it isn't.
I also wasn't real thrilled to be in there today because all we did was sit down, have the managers say, "have a great day" in that oh-so-enthusiastic tone, and have the various idiots scurry for the copy machine to make it look like they're working. Pretty sad... again this is outside sales. What that means is that you GO OUTSIDE AND SELL STUFF!!! There are 3 or 4 clowns in my office that come in every day just pumped up beyond belief and more enthused than Paris Hilton with night vision, and haven't sold a single thing. These people have been there for 4 months and haven't made 1 sale. I've been there for a month, and I've sold 2 contracts. Tell me that you're honestly, truly, sincerely enthused when you work for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week for 4 months and have virtually every person you talk to say, "no." I find that pretty difficult to believe. Psychologists will tell you that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. If that's the case, I know a place in Rochester that is just begging for a psychological intervention. It's kind of funny... there are about 30 reps in my office, which are divided into 3 teams, each with their own manager. They're all pretty good guys, and they definitely know the business, but it is so painfully obvious that they're trying WAY too hard to be positive. They'll come up in front of the entire office and start cheering and waving their hands, and each one looks about as comfortable doing that as Stevie Wonder playing pool. Some people just can't fake it, and it's painfully obvious. Again, it's not that they're incompetent or don't know the business, but it's pretty transparent.
Anyway, that's it for now... have to clean my meager apartment and turn on the TV... I think I'm late for my nap.
I also wasn't real thrilled to be in there today because all we did was sit down, have the managers say, "have a great day" in that oh-so-enthusiastic tone, and have the various idiots scurry for the copy machine to make it look like they're working. Pretty sad... again this is outside sales. What that means is that you GO OUTSIDE AND SELL STUFF!!! There are 3 or 4 clowns in my office that come in every day just pumped up beyond belief and more enthused than Paris Hilton with night vision, and haven't sold a single thing. These people have been there for 4 months and haven't made 1 sale. I've been there for a month, and I've sold 2 contracts. Tell me that you're honestly, truly, sincerely enthused when you work for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week for 4 months and have virtually every person you talk to say, "no." I find that pretty difficult to believe. Psychologists will tell you that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. If that's the case, I know a place in Rochester that is just begging for a psychological intervention. It's kind of funny... there are about 30 reps in my office, which are divided into 3 teams, each with their own manager. They're all pretty good guys, and they definitely know the business, but it is so painfully obvious that they're trying WAY too hard to be positive. They'll come up in front of the entire office and start cheering and waving their hands, and each one looks about as comfortable doing that as Stevie Wonder playing pool. Some people just can't fake it, and it's painfully obvious. Again, it's not that they're incompetent or don't know the business, but it's pretty transparent.
Anyway, that's it for now... have to clean my meager apartment and turn on the TV... I think I'm late for my nap.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Know what you're hitting before you swing.
I used to work for a fundraising company, and they sent me a TON of sample crap. Well, yesterday, I decided to move all the boxes with the aforementioned sample crap outside to the trash. (Most fundraising crap is, in fact, crap.) During this arduous process, I tripped over my home gym... annoying as this was, I got pissed, so here's what I did. I looked for the closest thing to take out my frustration on, and punched a cardboard box as hard as I could. Now, I was under the impression that it was empty. If you can't figure it out, it wasn't. Turns out it was full of about 70lbs. of fundraising contracts. A trip to the emergency room later, I get to find out that I didn't fracture it, but apparently bruised it really bad according to the x-ray. So now, I get to wear this stupid soft cast for the next week or so... although it is a fashion statement. Yes, I do have my moments of idiocy.
Such a mess...
Why is it that I seem to be able to slide into a relationship SO easily, but getting out is arguably the most difficult thing on the planet? I really don't think that I'm that great a catch, but I have been viamently disagreed with a few times... well, several times. Of course, I'm speaking in generalities. Quite honestly, I wish my entire love life could be like Vegas. Now I don't mean that "love's a gamble" and all that lover's lament crap. I mean that in Vegas (the greatest place in the entire universe, by the way), everyone is there for the same reason; to have a good time. No one's looking to find a long-term thing, no one's looking for commitment, no one's looking for someone that would be a good provider (well, maybe for a couple of hours), yada, yada, yada. Regardless, the point I'm trying to make here is that I wish that in each relationship that I get myself into, that there were no complications... that both parties are here to have fun, but in a couple of days we're getting back on the plane and headed back to the solace of our cozy little corner apartments. No jealousy, no promises, and no regrets.
Now, granted, if I were in Vegas and hit a slot for a couple mil I might take a little time off from playing the slots at all. Same thing with the whole relationship train wreck; if I could just find one that would be the female equivalent of hitting a really big slot, I would, in fact settle down. I know it's trite, comparing the whole dating paradigm to a Vegas trip, but this is my blog and I can be stupid about some things if I want to.
Anyway, that's my take on that.
Now, granted, if I were in Vegas and hit a slot for a couple mil I might take a little time off from playing the slots at all. Same thing with the whole relationship train wreck; if I could just find one that would be the female equivalent of hitting a really big slot, I would, in fact settle down. I know it's trite, comparing the whole dating paradigm to a Vegas trip, but this is my blog and I can be stupid about some things if I want to.
Anyway, that's my take on that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
