Comedy Story: You Can Leave My Life

I am not ever going to change who I am at my core. The restaurant menu at the core of my soul has no room for modifications, alterations or the mixing of unrelated menu items into one chef's nightmare. My menu cannot be changed for women, friends or loud mouthed Baptist preachers. They can all believe that I'm going to Hell, what they believe doesn't matter. How you are perceived doesn't matter when it comes right down to brass tax. I know what I've done and who I really am, that's all that matters. When I tell you that I want to marry the real life equivalent of the character Ada Wong from the Resident Evil series, you know that I'm a crazy person. But I am a crazy person that I can live with.

I am a repellent for liars and fakes that can't tolerate knowing what they are. If you want someone who will cater to you and your fragile ego then I'm just not the guy. I tell the truth about myself, I'm not going to then turn right around and buy the bullshit that you spout about yourself. Being friends with me when you are like that is like having an insatiable appetite for McDonald's breakfast while also having positively no tolerance for stomach pain. It's just not going to work.

I am really very much alone in my walk through life. Alone when being with someone means being able to tolerate bullshit. I've already had experiences with the best people out there. I remember what it was like when I didn't have to listen to drunken blabbering at 2am from some alcoholic broad that thinks she takes care of an old woman that doesn't need her. How do I know that one doesn't need the other? Well the old lady kicked the young lady out for six months. If you take care of someone, but they don't need you for six months, then you don't take care of them. I took care of my grandmother for 3 years and if I would have left her for 6 months, at any time, she would have been dead when I got back. That's just how dementia works. You can't lie to me and if you do, and then I find out about it, then you won't lie to me again. I've already known the best people, and they don't do that shit. 

I do have an understanding of what makes people tick and I know what makes me tick. If you can't tolerate someone who operates with that information and is willing to say it all out loud, then I am not for you. Being with me is like adding a full bottle of angostura bitters to a caramel macchiato. If you don't know what angostura bitters taste like, well they are bitters. So they taste a bit bitter and that is what I am. If you're a caramel macchiato then you don't want bitter in you, period.

Yes I hurt feelings all the time, I have been called evil, I've been slapped, punched, knocked out, spit on, attacked with knives and shot at. I am hated by some people. But I don't care. I can live with myself and that's all that matters. I am a guy who can start out on a mission to make myself a delicious Belgian waffle and end up googling how to treat 3rd degree burns from mishandling my coffee machine. My clumsiness has nothing to do with what I've been talking about here, but my hand still really fucking hurts.

I will never change, when I'm shot or stabbed to death or whatever it is, I won't go into that last good night ashamed or embarrassed by the way that I've lived, because I was honest. It would be far more likely that I would drink myself to death on accident. That last line makes me hope that my mother doesn't read this material. All that I have done, I have done it my way. If tomorrow I was convinced that apple butter makes the best hair gel, I'd probably not live and die by that one small aspect of life. But I would need some serious proof to refute my belief about apple butter as hair gel. I would also need someone to test the new theory for me as I am bald. The point of all this rambling was to make someone out there laugh. But also to remind any of those that thought that a few mean texts or a slap or punch or whatever you thought would end me, will not end me. You can leave, I don't care. People want to be around me, there will never not be more of those people. 

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Shot Glass thought: Making Time for Sublime

The way world is, we never have enough time for much of anything. When you have to constantly bang your head against the never yielding brick wall of disappointment which is life, you learn to manage your spare time accordingly. Life can't be changed, time cannot be infinite, we just have to live as we do and find a way to tolerate it. But he most beautiful thing that I need to make time for is heroin. Just kidding, I need to spend more time lying on my bed with my headphones on, just listening to Nessum Dorma radio on Pandora. That music is so beautiful and transcendent of what I usually take music to be, that it sometimes makes me cry. Imagine telling yourself that you need to take a break for a few minutes. You put the headphones on and start the music and in a few minutes you're nearly weeping from the beauty of the sounds. It's an odd experience. It reminds of once when I saw a girl speak at some kind of high school function. I wasn't in high school, I was there supporting someone else. The girl got up and it became apparent right away that her being allowed to speak was done for the irony of it. A lot of people were chuckling and murmuring to themselves about how bad she was. I had to get up and leave because it was destroying me on the inside. The opposite experience of that is lying on my bed listening to Andrea Bocelli. It is so right, so perfect and beautiful that it is overwhelming. I hope that bitch eventually got the help she needed in a speech therapy class or she made one friend that would tell her the truth. Either way, I should take more breaks to make time for the sublime.

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Shot Glass Thought: Get to Know Yourself

Sometimes the best way to deal with stress is to do something that you thought you didn't need anymore. I do not mean opiates. I mean that I was never that great at basketball at all, but sometimes I still need to just go bounce a ball and swish a few shots in order to get my mind right. Sometimes it takes a while to swish all the shots needed in order to right the mind. But it's worth that bit of time. In a sense, when I revisit basketball I get to feel that childhood fascination and hope for what the future could hold. I thought I would be in the NBA if I just worked hard enough. Nobody but life could effectively make clear to me how unlikely that was going to be. I don't have the genetics, the skills or the want to to make that sort of thing happen. Instead of telling kids that they can do anything that they can dream of, which is total bullshit. We should teach them how important it is to get to know yourself. For example, I was not getting enough sleep when I was about 19 but I kept on working really hard on several different things I had going in my life at that time. A member of my family said that I shouldn't worry about the lack of sleep and that I should work even harder. So I did, and I almost completely lost my mind. I went to go shoot some hoops at the local gym and I saw a young Michael Jordan warming up in the gym. MJ was young before I was born. I also had fictional characters from my childhood following me around. So the point of this shot glass is get to know yourself because you might be related to fucking idiot.

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Shot Glass Thought: Commitment is Not My Problem

Some people like to go on long walks or worse still, hike. I like, prefer and insist on short walks. That has a lot to do with the ever deteriorating ligament damage in my ankles, but also it has to do with time. Long walks are like almost everything in life, a commitment that I am not willing to make. I won't be inspired to be romantic with a date just because we spent 2 and a half hours sweating in the woods together. That would be like if I developed an all encompassing obsession with engineering after tying my shoes and realizing that Back to Future told us the shoes would tie themselves by now. Maybe it's not exactly the same but it would still be a huge commitment that I would not want to make either way. I've had plenty of female teachers and male for that matter, tell me that if I committed to my work I would be just so much better off now. A lot of those teachers were art teachers. If commitment is all it takes, then how come there has never been a female Michealangelo? Where is the female Da'Vinci? There hasn't even been a female Basquiat. So if you take history seriously, you might think that the commitment issues aren't on the male side of things after all.

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Short Funny Story: The Barman Doesn't Leave You in The Dark

I like the look of my own face. It's a good face honestly. It looks best when it's smiling and tending bar/serving does put a smile on my face. Where else can you make bank by helping people have a great time? I don't care if both my knees blow out and they have to wheel me around behind the bar, if I never make it in comedy, I'll just keep tending bar!

But back to my face. I have a big nose and "piercing eyes". They have also been called psychotic eyes but those were the words of some psychotic bitches that I have since left behind. (No I haven't been reading your emails, I asked you to please TURN OFF ALL CAPS) Many people feel a bit put off or excited by my gaze and why not? I'm a total stud. I'm the bartender dude, the lifelong mission of every cool guy is to be the cool guy that hands out alcohol. By the standards of many a cool guy, I'm already as cool as I could possible be. Thanks to the modern marvels of depression meds, I'm also a happy cool guy too. But being behind the bar and on pills doesn't mean that I've forgotten about the abyss, it just means I moved it to my spam folder even though I know that it contains a perfectly valid bill that I don't intend to pay right now but certainly will have to later.

My coolness and face aside, I could never work another kind of job job after having handed out the alcohol. Sometimes the handing out of the booze is very stressful, especially so when there are a great many people and you have to do it very fast. But I can't ever see myself trading in the cocktail shakers for a company hat and retirement plan as the guy who cuts off the electricity when you don't pay your bill on time. I would try to apply the same friendly warm charm that I use to welcome bar patrons on people that would not ever want anything to do with me. I mean, I could get yelled at. Not a big deal for most, but I have my feelings and my ego to think about. I need to feel like I do a cool thing for cool people and being around me makes them happy. Putting people in the dark and cold would not accomplish that feeling.

How did I end up like this? You mean, perfect? Well I can't explain all that but drinking until you blackout for three years and then one day waking up to the worst alcohol induced anxiety imaginable has a way of molding you. Yes I hid in the bathroom from my roommates and was convinced that they might be planning to kill me, but what if they were? I would have been safe long enough to call the cops and be rescued. The preservation of my life is a boon to all. Plus, you don't know these guys like I do. You ever felt nervous like somebody might be watching you fap through your webcam? Well your instincts were right, because my roommates were the ones watching you. They are totally "not into that stuff dude" they just like to be were they shouldn't be. Like a ghost that haunts a house that he didn't die in. It's fucking weird. They might have been ghosts.

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Shot Glass Thought: Factory Worker Career Change to Massage Therapist

I want to meet people that have interesting career changes like factory worker for general motors to massage therapist. The thought processes of people who are able to change from one extreme to another and display adequate competency in either would be fascinating interviews. Or maybe they would bore me to death because I am expecting there to be a "Take this steering column and shove it, I'm gonna rub shoulders from now on." Maybe it went like "I always loved cars until I realized I could make the same living by smearing cream on naked women. That seemed like a pretty good deal." Let's say that it's a woman that wants to change from massage therapist to Ford motor maker. She'd say something like "Well smearing cream on wrinkly old men was okay for a while, but I got a bit tired of all the solicitation for sexual favors."

I've never had a massage and I'm not sure that I ever will. I wouldn't mind giving massages, but I don't want any part of me massaged unless it's my wang. No pda, if you're touching me then it should be leading up to something. If I'm touching you, it could be whatever I don't really care. Not like I'm going to develop feelings for you anyway. "Why are you such an asshole?" I don't really know...but you can leave now. "I could have left at any time, but I stayed because I care for you. Don't you see that??" Barf, barf, etc. It's been a few minutes now and I'm realizing that I'm definitely off topic. This could be cue to get back on topic but I think I'll just dip out here and have some depression ice cream. I prefer Oreo or orange creamcicle tubs to help divert me from the ever encroaching abyss.

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Shot Glass Thought: Pothead Warlords and Prostitutes

So we often hear that if you are smoking pot at a young age then you will likely take to more extreme and destructive behaviors later on. By that logic, I wonder if there has ever been a pothead that just smoked dope for a few years, did nothing with his life and then just became an international arms dealer out of nowhere. Because that would meet my definitions for extreme and destructive behavior. Have any potheads ever just weaseled their way into public office and started destroying almost everything they touch? Demonstrating a need and desire to serve only their needs and desires? I wonder how many potheads have been mass shooters? How many pothead serial killers are there out there? I can't say because I don't know, but there sure are a fuck ton of potheads in prison. I've never had a guy stagger out of his apartment at 2am to scream at me before he started puking from being too high. I left him in his puke, by the way. I hope you're not disappointed if you took me for the good Samaritan. I didn't flick him off either. I did try to think of a witty one liner for his situation but all I said was "ah well, yes now you are puking." When something that doesn't make sense happens I find it best to begin narration. I do know some basic whores that will have sex with someone for weed. But I think that's from being lazy, no morals having, entitled brats. But that's probably just my privilege speaking. I'm sure that I don't understand their situation or circumstances because I'm not a woman. But I would understand that after a couple years of that behavior they would likely have some kind of herpes. 

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