This Is My Life And Its Ending One Minute At A Time

So I haven’t drank in two days. I know to some a big “so?” just popped in your head. Let me see if I can explain this for you. In the last year and say, two months, the most I’ve gone without drinking is a day. Now, that doesn’t mean I drink everyday, in a given week I probably drink four to five out of seven days. This is the first time that I can recall in a year where I’ve gone two days without drinking in a row. Let me explain something else, its not from lack of wanting to drink, believe me, I’ve been wanting to drink the entire day. Since I got up all I’ve wanted was a fucking beer.

Its funds…its why the entire day today I left my apartment once, for cigarettes. The rest of the time I’ve watched “Sons of Anarchy,” “House,” “Heroes,” “Castle,” “Lie to me,” and Primal Fear, done four loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, and picked up my room. I literally cannot do any extra driving except what it will take me this week to get back and forth to work. I can’t go out to drink. I can’t even go drink at work because my tab is already too high. I may at some point even run out of cigarettes. But wait…it gets better.

My next paycheck I may not even have enough to pay rent. Once the boss takes out the tab that I owe him. What does that mean? I have to find someway to pay rent, put gas in my car, cat food, and cigarettes. Why do I keep saying cigarettes you ask? Because if I can’t fucking drink I damn well better be able to smoke. I have a feeling I am going to be a rather gigantic fucking dick these next two weeks, and its only going to get worse. Be prepared for some angry/hate rants on Pajiba. I really need to find some way to make some extra cash. The last thing I ever want to do is go to my parents and ask them for the money…I have a feeling I will have to though. FUCK.

On a weird side note. All I’ve been thinking about today is writing. I always wanted to try and get a novel published but the more I think about it the more I think I could probably go for a collection of short stories. Those are the only things I seem able to really write lately and maybe all it will take is for me to get published to try and tackle that larger issue of writing a novel. Who knows right? Its not just the book though that I’ve been thinking about, I also have some poetry stewing itself around in my brain. I’ve got one working around about life in general, I have another on depression, and I have another about that Jibette.

Speaking so much of Pajiba. There was a thread awhile back on the Deadgirl review. Now I remember I got in a rather large argument with people on there about the use of the rape scenes. Mainly a lot of the women on the site seem to be extra-feminist. I should have realized this earlier. Its also been noted on the site that most of the women have college educations, or, for the most part, are of above average intelligence. This usually, while not always, denotes a woman who is a feminist. Well the argument on that one I can understand, even if I don’t agree with all of their perspectives. Although I do think I lost figgy because of that thread. I noticed she took me off of her friends list on facebook…guess there also goes my chance of ever making it on the EE again. Doubt she would want to put someone she obviously dislikes on there. I don’t even really know what I did. I wasn’t trying or even attempting to be rude/ugly/or hateful on that thread. Anyway…on to Polanski.

I’m just going to say this…you do the crime, you serve the time. It doesn’t matter if it’s the next day, a year later, ten years later, or fucking thirty years later. All you need to know is that if you rape a 13 year old, drugged or un-drugged, consensual or un-consensual, its fucking rape. Its called statutory rape of a minor. If someone commits murder and runs…thirty years later you are still fucking guilty of murder. There is no time off for good behavior…no time for being a celebrity…no time for having money…no time for having to stay out of the fucking country. You ran you goddamn coward. To me that is no better or worse then someone who kills themselves before letting the cops get to them.

So now what am I going to do tonight? I can’t drink. I have to conserve my cigarettes. I’ve pretty much watched every goddamn show I watch over the course of a week. With the exception of “Glee” on Wednesday, and football on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Oh wait…that’s right. I don’t have cable. So the only place I can go watch those is at a fucking bar!

Goddamnfuckcuntshitballfuckjesuslickingballsniffingbilljoebobblowing.

I could keep going, but I doubt you would want to read a whole fucking page of that shit.

I suppose I could always write. Maybe pump out one of those poems I was thinking about. I could always watch a movie. Then again…I’m going to be up till nearly 5am anyway on the fact that I can’t sleep and I most assuredly cannot sleep sober. Not to mention I’m still waking up everyday at 9am for no fucking reason. Or that for the last week I’ve been having really vivid dreams. You know the type of dreams where you wake up only to realize you’re not actually awake so you wake up again? Yeah, except imagine it being. Dream-Wake-Dream-Wake-Wake-Dream-Wake-Wake-Wake-Oh wait, no I’m finally awake. That’s some fucked up dreaming. By vivid I mean vivid. As in whole conversations, I can remember things that I was eating, even what they fucking tasted like. Some of em have been good dreams, the majority have been bad, a few “really” bad. Not nightmares either, because I fucking love nightmares. More like shit that could actually happen to me.

On another plus note its like 59 degrees here right now, or 15 degrees Celsius for you Canadian fuckers. I got the windows up in my bedroom so I can let that cool air in. When your roomie leaves the thermostat at 80/26.6 degrees and you have no fan in your fucking room. Yeah.

I was watching that season opener for “House” tonight and it made me think of something. I still have pictures of my x on my laptop. I want to delete them…so many times I have wanted to, but every time I look at the pictures it just brings back the memories. I also have some…ummm…really good pictures. Anyway, the episode tonight made me want to do it again. Made me want to delete them. I just don’t know if I can bring myself to do it. I know what I should do. I should delete the pictures (ala Forgetting Sarah Marshall) change her thing on facebook to where I can’t see any of her status updates or posts, and just move on. Moving on is hard to do though. Even after a year. Even though I know she has, fuck, she’s engaged and they have a house together. Did I mention he’s a fucking midget? There's the nice little couple engagement ring pic.

See…I have a picture of her balancing a coke can on her ass…a coke can. Then there is the one of her dressed all goth in the car. The one of her topless with black tape over her nipples.

FUCK it, fuck it, I just did it. I didn’t even check to see if I have them saved anywhere else. On a USB drive, on a disk, fuck it. Now for her facebook.

Goddamn’t…see…why do I torture myself? I just saw that the date for their wedding is the day they first started dating which is fucking two weeks after we broke up.

Goddamn’t!! Fuck! Hold on.

Ok…I’ve now hidden her status updates. Now the only time I will look is with some sort of fucking morbid curiosity that I know will happen eventually and I’ll get pissed off all over again.

Shit…what I wouldn’t give for some fucking weed and a large bottle of Jack right now.

I Think My Mind Is Slipping

Man, I feel like I got ran over by a dump truck, set on fire, then pissed on to douse the flames. Seriously. I woke up today (after an insane night of drinking) with a cramp in my calf muscle that still hurts now. I have a skinned knee from where I fell down drunk two nights ago. My other knee and elbow are bruised and I have no idea how that happened. My head hurts (think hangover), my lungs hurt (think smoking a new pack of cigarettes in three hours), and for some reason my shoulders are sore as fuck. I feel like I’m falling apart.

On a plus side I got a Dawn of the Dead on DVD, I’m reading A Practical Guide to Racism (slow read, not really a page turner just something to read when you’re taking a shit or in-between commercials) and its my weekend. I say “my weekend” because its my days off from work today and tomorrow.

Of course, that may not be my job for much longer. I was supposed to have a job interview on Saturday but due to weather I wasn’t able to meet up. Its working at NTB. My brother in law works there and he wants me to get a job as a night driver. Mon-Thur 9pm-7am. Why would I want it? I am really, really fucking tired of being broke. It’s a pay raise from $10 to $13 an hour. It’s a guaranteed 40 hours a week. I get Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off. Did I mention I will literally be making double what I make now? I have $19 bucks to spend for the whole goddamn week. $19 bucks. I might as well be fucking homeless, they make more money then me.

I’m missing the Jibette. She took a trip this weekend. I know that’s retarded, but I look forward to chatting with her. As I’ve said…highlight of my day.

I’ve been wanting to write, can’t seem to do it, can’t seem to get anything to flow. I couldn’t even write a blog last week. Every time I came home from work I would want to write one, then I couldn’t. Weird. I hate writers block. Even though I was able to write recently I’ve still had a block for over a year now. I wish there was some cure for that. I’ve tried music, movies, books. I’ve tried exercising, going outdoors, staying inside. Nothing fucking works. Bullshit.

Ahhhahahaha Zombie Baby. I love it. Have you ever noticed how good of an actor Mekhi Phifer is? I wonder why he doesn’t get more roles. Then again, I wonder why he doesn’t get better roles. Even his little part in Dawn of the Dead was fantastic, he plays crazy well, think O. Well, I guess not so much crazy as he plays a person who snaps well.

I have no idea what I’m going to do tonight. May go over to the parents house for a minute. I don’t think I’m going to go to the bar. I hate going out when I have no money, it just pissed me off. The lack of funds means I also don’t get to go see Pandorum and it would prevent me from seeing Zombieland if my dad hadn’t already asked me if I want to go. That was nice. Otherwise I would have to wait a week before I’d get to see it.

I guess I’m done now.

Reflections of a Sober Drunk

Some people joke about being an alcoholic and they are not. Some people are an alcoholic and joke that they aren‘t. Some people are alcoholics and admit it. I used to think I was an alcoholic but according to the Drug&Alcohol counselor that I had for my “almost” DUI (I blew under the legal limit so they dropped it to a reckless driving) I’m just a drunk. See, lately that has been confusing me, am I a drunk? What exactly is a drunk? Is that worse then being an alcoholic or better? Its kind of like when I went to the doctor one time and he told me, “You’re not obese, you’re just fat.” I remember pausing for a second and then asking him if that was a good thing, he replied back, “Well, its better then being obese.” So…is a drunk not as bad as an alcoholic? I don’t know. If you’re wondering how he classified this let me do my best to explain.

Alcoholic’s need liquor to survive, they are the type to wake up in the morning and add some whiskey to the morning coffee. They are the type that will have killed a bottle before lunch time. The type that need it everyday. Me, I use alcohol to cope. Its my way of self-medicating my depression. Since I’m depressed 90% of the time I drink 90% of the time. However, in a given week, I’ll go 2-3 days without drinking. Those days, are my good days, the days I’m not depressed. Hell those days I may even be happy, I just try and consider myself normal.

I’ve noticed lately though that I tend to black out pretty much every time I drink. Not large gaps of the night, just small gaps. Say for example last night, I don’t remember any of the conversations at my friends house. I don’t remember leaving. I just remember being at my friends house having a good time and drinking, then being at my place cooking something to eat and going to bed. I think its gotten worse since my last birthday. You don’t even want to know what I drank my last birthday. Fuck, I don’t even remember my last birthday. I remember the beginning of the night. Going to Sidelines and I think I had three pitchers of beer (by myself) and three shots of Jim Jones. When I got to Bullfrogz I remember having a Jaeger bomb, then the bartender made me this fucked up shot that he set on fire. I remember looking at my friend after I took it and going, “What does my breath smell like?” That was it. He said he watched my face drop right after I said it. From reports, I drank another pitcher of beer and had around fourteen shots. So…yeah. Anyways, I’ve been thinking about that lately. I also realize how much money I spend on alcohol. It’s no wonder I’m broke.

So yesterday on Pajiba they got into a discussion of zombies. I kind of realized that I am way too obsessed. No really, its borders on psychotic. I was arguing with TK on his wall over on facebook and realized that even I sounded insane to myself. Is it wrong to have a battle plan? Is it wrong to already know what you’re going to do step-by-step? I actually don’t think it will ever happen (how could it?) but I want it to. Oh yes, I do. I want to be able to say my geekdom/nerdom actually saved my life. You know what would also be fantastic. If you consider all the nerds that would survive what would the next generation of people be like after we all started breeding? Would we have like super smart kids? I’d like to think so. The only problem would be the male to female ratio. Arguably you would think that not very many women would survive. Its been proven that women have a hard time killing someone (yes, even undead I think they would have a hard time killing their little brother). However, its also been proven that while men are more likely to pull a gun, women are more likely to pull the trigger. So what does that say? We always see in movies that there aren’t very many female survivors. So the men always go after the few women that are left (think 28 Days Later). I just hope that considering I don’t have very many women that are interested in me that I am interested in, that it would change during a zombie apocalypse. Who knows.

Originally women wanted the Alpha Male, now that has kind of gone to the opposite. I don’t know how many women I see with men that the woman couldn’t kick the guys ass. When did we go from the male protector/provider that women wanted to more of the opposite. Now I see a lot of women that are the protector/provider. How many friends do you have that the woman makes more money then the man? Now go back even twenty years and tell me if that ratio was anywhere near the same.

I still think I should have been born in the thirties. I think I fit the look of a 50’s man. Tall, broad shoulders, barrel chest, dark hair, olive skin (when I actually go out in the sun). I wouldn’t know how to classify my looks exactly. I don’t consider myself attractive, then again, how many people do? I have been classified as handsome though. So, what would that make me? Tall, dark, and handsome. See? See? Wrong era, this fucker right here. Now it seems girls, or at least the ones I am interested in, like guys who look like heroin addicts.

Woah…did I go off on a fucking tangent or what? I totally skipped my original intent of this blog. Ok, my original point. In case you can’t tell from my facebook, my blog, shit even Pajiba, I kind of have a thing for a Jibette. Only one in particular.

We chat a lot, about everything. We have a lot in common, she has even said that sometimes I say the same thing she was going to say before she says it. You know, that whole completing someone’s thought? I really like her, like probably too much. She won’t give me her phone number…let me tell you why that’s a good thing.

The alcohol makes me honest…too honest. Were she to give me her number I would likely text message myself into stupidity. In fact, I should really probably have all electronic devices removed from my ability to use them when I’m drunk. For example, last night I sent her six messages on facebook…six fucking messages. Who does that? Rather then showing her how much I like her the only thing I’m accomplishing is making myself look like a fucking crazy loser. I know this, I see this, and yet I have not foot in mouth disorder, more like fucking finger foot disorder.

My hands are honest. I can tell you something in writing ten thousand times better then I can in words. I’ve always been like that. In person when I first meet someone I am shy and quit. Online, I’m me, I’m fucking free. I’m free to say what I’m really thinking, I’m free to say what I’m really doing, my goddamn balls grow to the size of fucking bowling balls. Not to say I don’t have balls in real life, just not the balls that interact with females. See, there I go, off on a fucking tangent again.

A few weeks ago I told myself that I wouldn’t chat with her or send her any messages. I told myself I was starting to look obsessed and that I would just wait for her to send me something. I lasted two fucking hours…two goddamn hours. I saw her online for two hours before I started chatting with her. What the fuck? Seriously? I’ve never been like that, never, ever. I’ve literally probably had like over thirty hours of conversations with her online. I don’t think I’ve even talked to girlfriends that much. I know for a fact that I haven’t ever talked to one for ten hours straight. We’ve had two ten hour chat sessions…I shit you not. I guess one of the biggest things is I can’t tell how much she actually likes me. I know the obvious answer would be of course she does why else would she chat with me for ten hours at a time. However…I see her online and she never sends me a message first. She won’t give me her phone number. She doesn’t really compliment me.

I know that she has had some seriously, seriously fucked up things happen in her life that I can’t, nor have the right, to get into on here. I know she needs time, and time to heal. I just don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t like not knowing what I’m doing. I keep waiting for the day to get online and realize that she's chunked me off her friends list.

S.S.D.D.

I should be working on a story right now, I told ashes if she gave me a story idea I would write it. Well, she gave me one, and while the story is floating around in my head I haven’t started actually writing it yet. Why? I don’t know but I’m going to go with a lack of sleep. I was up all night last night. First the Steelers game then absinthe with some friends. I think I went to bed around five this morning and then I had to be at work at eleven. I haven’t been sleeping well period, I keep having interrupted sleep. I don’t know why either, I usually sleep like a fucking log.

How about that Steelers game by the way, talk about a fucking piece of shit effort. How many times was Big Ben sacked? The interceptions? The retarded fumble? The penalties? Jesus, that game fucking sucked. Considering it was a team that won the Superbowl last year and another team that maintained the longest undefeated streak last season. What the fuck was that happy horse shit? Great way to start the pro season off right huh?

So today is obviously 9-11. I’ve seen some others have posted stories of what they were doing at the time. I was in college, then went to a friends house. I have nothing great to tell. I don’t even really recall feeling that many emotions. I did know a guy at school who was flipping out because his dad worked at the World Trade Center, but I found out later that his dad had actually called in sick that day. I don’t know why I actually thought about 9-11 today. The last couple of years it always slips my mind.

I’m supposed to be going to the bar tonight. It’s a friends birthday. I don’t feel like going though. I mean, I know I’m going to go, I just don’t want to. I have no money. I would rather just sit my ass at home and sulk.

True story. I’m feeling pretty depressed today.

I’m watching Disturbing Behavior. I haven’t watched it in awhile…it’s a fantastic piece of crap. I forgot the cast that was in this motherfucker. What’s even more impressive is that for an actual high school movie the cast is around a decent age. For example:

James Marsden ---25
Katie Holmes---20
Nick Stahl---19
Katharine Isabelle---17
Chad Donella (UV) ---20
Ethan Embry---20 playing Marsden’s older brother
A.J. Buckley (Chug)---20
and how about Julie Patzwald with her little role of the crazy girl?

Not to mention it has one of the best lines from any movie…ever…“We like our metal heavy, our Marlboro’s light.”

Guess I'm going to get off this now. I just felt like writing something.

Well...

I'm actually in a good mood despite the fact that I have $1 in the bank after getting paid yesterday, I have less then a half a tank of gas, and only a quarter pack of cigarettes to last me the rest of the week. I should be wanting to kill myself. Anyway, last week I had a really horrible day, terrible. It was last Thursday and I have to work Thursday nights, well, the closers have not been doing what they are supposed to do so rather then get out in 15 minutes it took me almost an hour. I was pissed, I made a huge mess that I then had to clean up (because of the other closers) it was just a bad day. Then, as I get in my car to leave I check my facebook on my phone and see this as the first status update.
bored...missing Brian who's at work...blah... on a happy note~putting new music on iPod!
That was the x (yes from over a year ago) and it pissed me off even more. Why, well, that was the guy she is now engaged to...that was the ipod I bought her for fucking Valentines day.
Anyway, I'm over it. I've found someone that makes me happy. Even though I've never met her. Weird huh?

My So Called...Fucked Up...Life

Where to begin…where to begin.

I’m sitting at the hospital at the moment. My sources were apparently incorrect. I thought my sister came here this morning to be induced, its seems she’s been here since 6 last night. In that case…this baby is being a little asshole. Which means I may like him already. She's getting a C Section as I post this.

I hate hospitals. After my dad’s quadruple bypass heart surgery (which involved me taking him to all follow up doctors visits as well), my mom breaking her neck in the car wreck (which involved me taking her to all follow up doctors visits as well) and then my mom’s eye surgeries (again, doctor visits), I think I’m fucking done with hospitals. No, not think, I am done with fucking hospitals. Hopefully for a while anyway. That was all in a like six month span by the way.

So last night it seems I tried to burn the apartment down. Now, I know I hate my life but I don’t think I would want to kill my roomie in the process. It appears, after coming home from the bar, that I wanted to eat some mac&cheese. I say appears because I don’t remember. So, I got it going, got the noodles in there, then passed out. I was woken up by said roomie bitching at me holding a blackened pot in front of me. With the obligatory, “You could have caught the fucking apartment on fire.” I got up off the couch I had passed out on, walked into my room, and passed out again. I looked at the time though, if I was to guess the mac&cheese had been cooking for 4 hours. That’s some well done food huh? The whole apartment smells like burnt popcorn. I’ve had a scented candle going since I came home from work.

Two things to go along with that though.
One: I don’t know how many times I’ve come home from the bar to find the roomie passed out with the stove or oven on. Do I wake him up to tell him? Or do I turn it off and go to bed. I’ll let you guess the answer to that one.
Two: Instead of putting the burnt pot in the sink…to subside the smell a little bit, he just left it sitting on the stove. Thanks for that too.

His fucking double standards are driving me nuts. Like when he picked up the apt and put my hoodie that was sitting on the table in my bedroom for the cats to lay on. Yet left his clean clothes that had been on the couch for around two weeks. Thanks dick!

On to the other topic on my mind. So Monday night I go out with my friends, as usual, to Sidelines. One of the girls there, A, has a crush on me but I’ve told her before that I wasn’t interested in her. She’s simply not my type. She is a taller/bigger girl and while she is very attractive, I like em tiny. I explained this to her. Well, she has been having a rough spell and she makes the passing comment that she wishes she could just cuddle with someone as she slept. It’s a known fact that I’ve been lonely…so I volunteered. I wouldn’t have minded a good night sleep cuddling with someone. As we were going to sleep I started rubbing her back and her hair. I was doing this because I thought I would be nice…swear to god…I thought it would help her go to sleep. I was trying to comfort her. She, it seems, took it another way and started messing around with me. Most uncomfortable moment of my life. I didn’t want to…alright that’s a lie, when it started I found it interesting but after about 5 minutes I didn’t even respond to her. If, you’re a guy, you would understand if you managed to not get an erection to a girl that was naked on top of you. So, I just got her off as quick as I could…she offered sex…I turned her down. After that all I wanted to do was run away, get the fuck outta the building but again…I’m nice…and I didn’t want her to feel bad. Fuck…fuck…shit fuck cockcrowing butt fucking piece of ass crap. That was terrible. Terrible. Even worse, she left marks!

I guess the reason why I feel so bad is that even though I have no chance with a girl (she has flat out pretty much told me that), I’ve, in a way, given her my heart. I haven’t been flirting with other girls. I haven’t even really been looking at anybody else. So in a way, in some goddamn stupid fucking retarded way, I feel like I cheated on her. What the fuck is wrong with my goddamn head? I hate having a heart. Really, I do. I wish I was like “Dexter” ya know…cut off from emotions. You would think I would have learned my lesson after all the x’s that have fucked me over and just shut down. Actually, I guess just being fucked up is what is wrong with me. I’ve never even met the girl who is taking my heart. Hahaha. I have however talked to her online twice for over 7 hour sessions. That’s not even counting little chit chats. She doesn’t even live in the same state. I am fucked up huh?