Tag Archives: sloth

That’s What You Get for Waking Up in Vegas pt1

25 Jun

Sunday April 29, 2012

(I’m putting dates in because, well I’m a slacker and want to have some idea of when these events actually occured as opposed to when I’m posting them)

GO! GO! GO! This vacation actually started Thursday. I didn’t want to work, TOGA was stressy, and he also needed new clothes since he dressed like a salt-and-peppered 16 year old in an old man body. That last point is important because he hadn’t gone real clothes shopping since the last time his mom made him and he asked for my help. Playing dress-up with a giant Ken doll? What girl WOULDN’T say yes to that!!

I left work early Thursday (I’ve been doing that a lot lately…bad employee), we went shopping (got him to, if not buy, at least try on some awesome stuff…grey skinny jeans, mmmhmmm), and we washed the shame of neither of being as in shape as we’d like with $1 mixed drinks at Phat Katz (yes, that is a real bar’s name).

Friday, after showering off the hang over I drove back down to MA, not to go to my real job, but at least get a few dog walks in for my part time job. Sloth came over that night and helped me continue liver preparation for sin city, but I woke up the next morning way too early and fighting a cold.

OH FUCKING NO!!!

I refused to be defeated and suffered through a long, grueling day of work. It figured one of my busiest days would be while I was sick, stressed, and still needing to pack.

Sunday was not much better and instead of being drunk on the plane, psyched to be on my way to the city I have referred to my personal Mecca for years, I was tired, pressed for time, and missed my train. I was saved from one of the loves of my life who drove me to Logan on super short notice where I somehow still managed to check in, get through security, and be sitting at my gate with time to spare.

I had a lay over in New Jersey . Stupid TOGA and I make a great pair since this was the first time we realized we had the same lay over and were taking the same plane to Las Vegas. Plus side – we figured it out and spent our lay overs together. Negative side – my seat was in the bowels of the plane and his was close to the rich people, a situation which could have been avoided with better observational skills.

Moving on. First sign this trip was going to be epic: We are waiting in line to get on the plane with the rest of the cattle, and there are these three people behind us looking rather confused, talking amongst themselves. I overheard them and answered a couple questions no one could come up with the answers to. Sometimes I’m a ice person. They were very appreciative and we all started chatting while we waited. One of the women was very interested in mine and TOGA’s relationship and asked him if he was gong to marry me in Vegas. We started giggling as she had unknowingly stumbled into an inside joke (there were bets being placed on whether or not we would get married or one of us would kill the other back home) and we made a polite joke about it. The woman proceeded to tell TOGA that he was crazy if he didn’t marry me because I had “a very calming presence and great child-bearing hips.” I wish I had a picture of his face so I could save that look forever!!

She then told us that we shouldn’t have some cheesy fake Elvis impersonator preside over the nuptials, instead we should ask “Wayne” when he walks by and do it on the plane. Both of us were a little confused and assumed this woman was drunk, high, or plain crazy, but as I gave my boarding pass to the attendant at the front of the line a man and a woman walked up the Premier Seating line to board. They made TOGA wait to allow these people through, damn first class douche bags! I looked over and did a double take because this particular first class douche bag looked extremely familiar. TOGA got through and while waiting behind this duo to board, I kept turning the facts over in my mind. All of a sudden TOGA whispered, “I know that guy from somewhere,” and all of a sudden the pieces fell into place. WAYNE FUCKING NEWTON!!

I tried to inform my cohort secretly as the woman obsessed with getting us married was still right behind us, but he was not on the undercover bandwagon. She noticed his realization, and proceeded to tell Wayne Newton that TOGA and I were getting married. BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

One 5 hour plane ride away from LAS VEGAS!!!!!

Magic….the gathering…and dismantling

7 Mar

I was going to write a post about the card game magic…

Then I decided just to post this video and put a short, vague reasoning under it.

I got into this game for a bit due in large part to Sammie, HB, and Sloth. Before this summer it had never been more than a concept I didn’t understand and only nerds played. I stand by the fact that mostly its nerds that play (myself, being a closet nerd, included), but its not half bad. DON’T EVER VENTURE INTO THEIR WORLD, but playing the game is ok (I’d post a link to my friends one blog post I actually got to read to reinforce that point, but I only have it in am email).

PS this Alex Day kid is not only hilarious and adorable, but talented as well.

Idiots in Love – A case study of Wizard and Sammie

5 Mar

** I wrote this post in two parts. The first I started a few months back when I wasn’t in a very good place about the ordeal. Since then things are a bit more settled, less strings are left untied, and I have found a place of acceptance for what things are…here goes.

I don’t know what it is about love, but I have met very few people that are able to be smart about it. The mix of hormones, endorphins, flowery language, and finally having our narcissistic need for attention met creates a dangerous melting pot that, if we aren’t careful, can quickly turn from the warm fuzzies to singeing self-deprecation. I can only truthfully say I have been in love once. Mini-romances and minor flirtations aside, real, honest love, is life-consuming. It takes up every waking thought, seeps into every minute detail, until you have formulated a life in which you are constantly waiting for those next precious moments to be shared with the person you have made your end-all-be-all. Then when it ends, you physically feel an empty chasm in your chest that makes everything seem dark until you can fill it with brick and mortar and swear to yourself you will never let yourself fall so easily into the delirium again. Only, we always do, and most of us do it willingly.

You would think a woman would be the reason this procession of thought has come upon me. And although I will freely admit I see this train crash of amorous events happen more often in the land of estrogen, today’s homily on the pitfalls of affection sprouts specifically from the male half of a couple I have taken nearly a year to observe and (as I often do) analyze. For the sake of this case study and to maintain confidentiality, we’ll name them Wizard and Sammie.

Sammie, who also happens to be my estranged roommate (which may explain any negative bias I may have, although I promise to at least try to stay neutral), had been Wizard’s girlfriend for six years (with a short break a couple years back if I remember the story properly). Recently, approximately six weeks ago, they called a “break” in their relationship. This of course crushed Wizard who, despite explanation, did not truly understand the reasoning behind this turn of events. I of course know both sides given my situation, but from his perspective, he was told Sammie needed to work on herself and that she could not do that within the bounds of a relationship.

In the background, Sammie was trying to deal with her guilt around having feelings for another man, “Sloth,” whom she had met the previous year briefly, but then over the summer, had seen socially on multiple occasions. Sloth did not have a flattering reputation within the group, but he had certain skills which the other gentlemen he hung out with valued if I understand it correctly. Sammie and Sloth had an instant connection and began spending time together more privately. I bet you can already see where this is going, especially when I mention that sobriety was not always a factor in their dalliances.

One thing led to another and Sammie was dealing with the guilt of kissing, rather heatedly, Sloth when she called the break between her and Wizard. Being “single” and dealing with confusing feelings towards Sloth only increased the ante leading to a scandalous affair of both the heart and the flesh (despite the pledge Wizard had made to never return to her if she so much as touched another man while they were separated).

I hope you are beginning to see my pickle. Being the roommate, I was privy to information no one else could know and sworn to secrecy, but being Wizard’s friend made it difficult to balance a neutral stance while being supportive. Not to mention the complication of remaining in contact with Sloth. He was a conundrum I was determined to unravel.

I have never claimed to be perfect, nor will I ever hold hope of being so. Maybe in a way chronicling this tale for you is my way of trying to find redemption. Whatever the case, after nearly a month my conscience and my loyalty were stretched to their limits. My head was full to bursting with information I had to very carefully navigate in conversations with the three players in this game. Over and over again Sammie sealed our conversations with vows of secrecy. I complied, not because I believed what she was doing was honorable, mostly I detested it, but I cared for her and we do foolish things for our friends. That is until we reach our breaking point.

A football game, apparently, was mine. The beer in mason jars more than likely didn’t help matters. I met up with Wizard and Mr. Big in Foxboro to watch our beloved Patriots at Toby Keith’s. Mr. Big was feeling generous and bought me several rounds of drinks during the course of the game. We were having a great time and the party didn’t end when the game did. Long, somewhat embarrassing, story short, the night ended with me and Wizard sobering up in my car, not silently. For most of the night I had avoided the Sammie conversation, but alone, in such close proximity, with my friend in need, I couldn’t help myself when he introduced the subject.

Put yourself in my shoes for a moment and look through my alcohol-clouded eyes. My friend, sitting in the car, heart in pieces, talking about his semi-ex-girlfriend and how much he loves her and hopes that he can find a way to stay with her. He trusts her, he tells me she’s told him everything, and even though it hurts, he’s just happy she hasn’t slept with this other guy. I know differently, and at first, its easy to let him believe this girl is being truthful because his heart is already hurting too much. But he keeps talking and something sets me off. I start thinking how deceitful this whole thing is, how despicable I feel for hiding the truth, for letting him believe she is worth his time. How do you care so much about someone, and hurt them so completely?

Before I know it, the words are escaping my lips and then they are there, out in the world. “You know she’s sleeping with him right?” Wizard just looks at me, and as he processes this information, I see his facial expression change from shock, to confusion, to rage. It’s the last one that scares me a little, makes me realize the chain reaction I have just put into motion. He jumps from the car, slams the door, and begins dialing. I know who he’s calling and I start to chase after him, I just want to fix it somehow, but he’s walking so fast and I can hear his voice rising. I know its too late, regret floods my mind, and I sink to the pavement as the tears start rolling down my face.

I don’t know how long I sat there, not long, but long enough to loose sight of Wizard. I start to run around Patriots’ Place, looking anywhere I can of where he might have gone. My phone is dead and I’m sure I look a little crazed when I finally decide to go back to my car. I wait. He parked near me so I figure he has to come back eventually. Again, I lost track of time, but eventually, I saw him, walking laboriously across the parking lot. I don’t know what words we exchange or how we said good bye, but I do remember him telling me he talked to her, how enraged he was, confusion tingeing every word he said.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

It’s been a few months since that moment. The drive home was filled with doubt and I began questioning myself, analyzing every minute leading up to that one. The series of events that followed were a shit storm of dramatic soliloquies, awkward tension, and the breakdown of trust. Sammie and I found a way to recover after that first blow to our friendship, but a short time later, another situation, related, but ancillary, shattered it permanently. I am too ashamed still to divulge the details. I take the blame for it wholeheartedly, but no amount of penitence can make up for it in her mind. We almost amended the situation at one point about a month ago, but I quickly realized the surface bond was not strong enough to rebuild the bulk of the structure back up. I may not be perfect, but she is a child sometimes, and in the interim of our breakdown, I think I realized some things I had overlooked. Roommates we remain, but civility is not always a constant in our world any longer.

As for Wizard, he remains the victim of the tale, but his naivety has since dissolved my empathy. He is still chasing after a dream I don’t think he realizes should be left to rest, but he’s in “love.” Sammie got just what she wanted, the ability to chase after other men, while still having her backup plan.

I’m not really sure how to end this without sounding bitter and disillusioned. Love is wonderful and sustaining when its healthy and mutual, but how often do we pervert it, fake it, or try to force it into our own little mold? Romance clouds our minds, but love isn’t logical either. How do we let our heart fly free when we might loose our heads in the process? To every risk there is a consequence, and pain sometimes walks hand-in-hand with pleasure. I guess I’m just hoping I can learn to walk the tightrope before I take my next leap of faith.

Sometimes I get drunk and write, well, stuff like this

4 Mar

I decided to write  post.

I don’t really know what its about yet, I figure that would materialize as I started writing.

It didn’t.

So now I’m just writing.

**Read this the next day, laughed at myself, thought others might laugh at me too.

Then I wanted to add something to make it slightly more interesting. So I took a picture of my wardrobe project that I wrote about before.

Update on that: the door is attached!!! Sloth came over (I’m beginning to feel guilty that is his codename, to do: consider changing to something cooler) last night and helped me put it on before I beat his ass in Battleshots (epic game, but word of advice use a sissy liquor). Problem – the bottom hinge is dysfunctional and refuses to cooperate. It wants to be like its siblings, but knows it belongs in a special place out in the country where it can live a life off the grid and running free.

Poor broken hinge…maybe we’ll fix you with ducktape, or gorilla glue.