I fuckin’ rule man.

May 20, 2009

Apparently I’m a self absorbed ass hole.  Today at work this happened.

[female co-worker] – “your single right? why don’t you ask her out?”

[me] – “she’s not cute enough”

[female co-worker] – “you think every girl in the world wants you don’t you?”

[me] – “yes”

[female co-worker] – “your an asshole”

[me] – “yes”

This is not my fault people.  I blame my mother.  Every day before school she would tell me that I was very handsome.  What little boy does not believe what his mother tells him?  Am I to think that the person who gave me life (and saved it many times) is a liar?

… Well, I should tell you that this is a woman who, when I was a child would tell me that “The Man” would come take me away if I miss-behaved.

Can you fucking believe that??  There I was like 6 or 7 thinking that my mom was just gonna let some fucker come take me away to god knows where to do god knows what to me.

*shudder*

I’m convinced that is at least part of why I have  such a  self destructive personality. Or something like that…

Anyway, I’m really not that conceited, but people in relationships just get ridiculous sometimes when it comes to being single. They act like us “singles” have some kind of disease.  They always want to “set you up” with someone.  AKA cure you of your single.

I’m doin’ great people!

I do what I want when I want, by myself.  I eat dinner whenever I want, alone.  I don’t have to wait because someone wants to share their day and nice thoughts with me (who wants that?).   I can drink all this wine solo.  The walls of this 70 year old house never talk back (except all night long because I live, practically alone, in a haunted house with lots of EMPTY rooms)…

Wait.  What was I saying?  I forgot cause I just spent that last 15 minutes sobbing.

Xanax.


Toblerone Tuesday

May 5, 2009

Today was Toblerone Tuesday.

Explanation: For a couple of months the deli in the building i work in has been stocking mini Toblerone candies at the register.  This meant nothing to me at first.  Everyone knows wheat the Toblerone candies are, but no one realizes it.

toblerone-chocolate-522042_800_418

Mostly you see this shit at airports in big triangle  boxes.

Anyway, this kid that I was training brought some on a Tuesday and said  (in all seriousness) “Toblerone Tuesday bro.”  And it changed my life.  Since  then I’ve had at least one Toblerone treat every Tuesday.  And! I am in the process of locating their head of marketing and sales, because that person needs to know that this is Toblerone, and it’s “Not just for airports anymore”.

Not bad right?

So, I was drunk this whole post.


Lunch with Pops.

May 2, 2009

Today I’m going to have lunch with my old man and his partner JL (read: gay couple, that is relegated to referring to themselves as if they do business together).  My Pops is has this celiac thing.  That means he is allergic to any thing that has gluten in it.  WHAT THE FUCK!   No bread, pizza, or pasta. This a nightmare for anyone, let alone a 100% Italian guy who grew up in a bakery.  As if this isn’t difficult enough to plan for (finding a restaurant that takes this seriously is very hard) his colleague JL is a vegetarian.  They are impossible to cook for (F.U. I can cook some stuff).  I think they just have lettuce in their fridge, maybe some salt for spice.

Anyway, Pops and JL are just about the kindest most genuine couple you have ever meet.  Hanging out with them is kinda like watching one of those Bob Ross painting shows: very pleasant, kinda boring, but you keep watching. This is hard for me to handle cause I pride myself on my “lowbrowedness” (it’s a word now baby!), and loud obnoxsious nature.

I still can’t figure out where I came from.

So, we’re going to a gluten free restaurant in the Village where I will taunt my dad the entire time with stories of pizza and rigatoni.  In turn he will not let me go hang out with my friends unless he can come.  When I was in high school he would let me use his car.  Every time he would get into the car with me and my Friends and say “Where we goin’ gang!” with a big shitty smile on his face.  This made me want to die, but my friends (all high as a kite) loved it.  I’m still friends with all of those kids so I guess it didn’t hurt my “rep” as bad as I thought it did.

After some wholesome family time I will go drink my face off till I wake on a park bench somewhere on the island of Manhattan at 6am.

What can I say I like to make him proud.