Adrift in New York

This thread is kind of like a Simpsons episode because at the beginning you are going to wonder how in the hell it ties into the point, but just trust me that it does.

I worked from 9 to 6 today, and it is the rare opening shift that I work about once a month. My father picked me up downtown at about five to seven, and we prepared to go to the house where my brother was hosting a barbecue for the basketball team that he is coaching. I arrive at my house to a group of 17-year-old boys who laugh at my jokes. Hooray!

I feel like hot shit because I am wearing my new Hugo Boss suit, but I change into casual clothing and mingle with the kids and their parents, then accidentally poke my brother in the eye. Good times are had by all.



But I cannot help but feel stangely nostalgic! Perhaps it is because it is 75 in Minnesota, and it may as well feel like summer, and at the risk of sounding maudlin, I have not had an enjoyable summer in my life since three years ago, the summer of 2005, when I cashiered at Walgreens and foolishly THOUGHT that life sucked since my three closest friends at the time were living in China, San Diego, and Iran, but in retrospect it is where I grew, not to mention the emotional affair I had with the boy from Texas whose name I still randomly hear when the wind blows.



After the barbecue is over I prepare for an emo walk with my iPod, complete with recently downloaded tunes like "There Is" by Boxcar Racer. As I have made it about half a mile I am approached by my best friend Erin McCloskey from her Ford Taurus just as Mariah Carey is blaring! We venture to Jake's Sports Bar and Grill, my father's home away from home, but the bartender he hates is working, so we go to the Village Pub instead.



Long story short. My father meets us there and we meet up with the pub's owner, whose son is currently living in Los Angeles and doing improv and OH MY GOD LET'S ALL BLOW SMOKE UP HIS ASS and hey you know buddy I could have been something too but now I live with my parents and work at the mall, and Erin goes home because she has been feeling ill for the past ten days but knows it is karma ever since April Fool's Day when she broke up with her boyfriend as a joke and made him cry (yes, in her mind this was hiliarious), and while my father is outside smoking I reunite with Sue, who was a teacher's aide when I was in middle school and would wake me up during math class!

Here is where the conflict ensues. Sue has me talk to Julianne, an acquainance of my father's who ran for City Council the same time he did (they both later lost to the incumbents who have continued to fuck over our fair city, but you can't be bitter forever). Julianne once asked me to baby-sit her twin daughters but later found someone else. I have never really talked to Julianne. She is apparently a bitch when she is drunk.




"My daughters are scared of men," she explains. "But they probably wouldn't be very scared of you."
"Yeah, I'm not like The Hulk...." I downplay in a voice so SUE KNOWS I AM PISSED.
Sue sympathizes with me and Julianne goes to smoke with my father. Upon their return, my father and his cursed weak bladder go off to pee. Julianne returns to Sue and me (who have been having a WONDERFUL! conversation) and I do not know where my father is.

"Where is my father?" I cry.
"Oh my god," Julianne scoffs. "Could you be any gayer?'
"Um, so back to the big dick I was sucking," I immediately respond, and Sue playfully slaps me, and I will never know if this was because she was genuinely offended or to downplay the moment.
"Your father is peeing," Julianne says.
"Well, he has diabetes," I say.
"Really?????" the women gasp.
"Well, Type II, nothing serious," I say.



My father comes out of the bathroom. The women grill him on his diabetes. He is pissed.

"I would appreciate if you wouldn't air my dirty laundry," he says later in the car. "I don't air yours." WELL, MY DIRTY LAUNDRY CAN'T BE TOLD FROM MY VOICE, DAMMIT.
"Well, I was trying to change the subject," I defend. "Julianne made me feel bad."
"Yeah, I smoked with her," my father said. "She was like 'did you know your son is gay?' and I said 'yes, we've known forever'."
"Well, I'M SORRY," I continue. "I was feeling attacked and I wanted to change the subject. Apparently I chose the wrong topic."
"Yeah you did," grumbles my father.
Now I feel bad. And sober, despite the five vodka drinks I had. Ho hum.

I joined a gym yesterday. It happened by complete accident as I was only there to do a Body Works class with my best friend Erin. We had half an hour to kill and ended up talking to the director, who happened to be in a shirt and tie and laughed at some of my jokes. How could I resist? Besides, I always had excuses to not join a gym and have realized that, expenses be damned, I have to stop using them. The director explains to me that on Monday I will be meeting with a personal trainer. In my head, I hope that my trainer is a five-foot-tall girl named Mindy who will be firm but sweet and won't make me feel bad for not being able to lift more than 15 pounds.

"Uh, your trainer's gonna be Jason," the director says. "I don't see him right now. He's the tall, blondish guy."
"Jesus Christ," I mutter to Erin.
"Oh, there he is! Come say hi!" the director says. No, I do not get the five-foot-tall girl named Mindy. I get Jason the hulking muscle god. I will spend all of Monday alternately trying not to be embarrassed and trying not to blush. Jason got more of my jokes than the director did, though. Also, Body Works KICKED MY ASS. So much for my goal of "getting my shit tight."

I had a customer today who used to go to Stout. He looked like a million bucks and I looked like a bus hit me. He acted like he didn't know who I was. Maybe he didn't. But I could not help but feel that he was judging me behind his perfection. I was not a rock star or anything, but I cannot help but feel that this is not where I am supposed to be. However, I will not be returning to New York City until I find a bag of money or actually finish my damn book, whichever comes first.

On the way home from the light rail, two girls from work and I were discussing our colleagues. In other words, gossiping. Whatever. When you spend 47 hours a week at the same place together, it's what you're gonna talk about. This lady in front of us said "I'll bet her ears are burning", and then thirty minutes later she asked us what store we worked at. I ignored her but should have told her we worked at Macy's.

I am going back to school.

It is two more years. For a degree I don't even know I want.

I want to act. That was fun. They said I was good in Brooklyn. "You have a lot of talent," she said. I wish I would have been awake then. I am trying to stay away from the "ouldves", but Brooklyn College and that whole New York City thing sure does have a lot of them. Could've would've should've. Or if's. Lots of if's. If only I had not been depressed for nine months BEFORE I find out I was going to Brooklyn College. Y'know. That kind of stuff.

I run into people who went to Stout when I am at work. Today a boy came in and he stared me down, like he knew me from somewhere but wasn't sure how. He was never that nice to me anyway, and I know things about him, like the time he slept with one of my friends while she had a boyfriend.

I'm allegedly doing comedy. Like actually gonna DO IT AGAIN. I haven't gone up there in a year and a half. I am worried I will bomb.

I got my heart broken. It was very surprising when it happened and I never thought it would ever happen to me. I mean, it did in tenth grade when the boy I liked said "I like women" but that is different. This time it was by someone who liked men, too. He stepped out of my life for several months and when he did he told me he was in AA and sober for 72 days. I wanted to be happy for him but instead I just got confused. Should I go to AA? But then if I go to AA it will only be another thing that reminds me of him and it will just make me sad, and when I am sad I usually drink but I am not going to drink tonight because it is Monday and I think I am going to drink tomorrow and Wednesday and you just have to balance these things.

Then I thought empty sex would make me feel better but I couldn't go through with it because I kept thinking about other people, so instead I took a cab home at 4:30 in the morning and gave him a fake phone number, and maybe it wasn't the nicest thing to do because he was begging me to stay the night, but I just couldn't get myself to do it. Also, SO MUCH HAIR.

I am waiting to push a button and for everything to make sense.

The following are things I'm crazy about this week:

1. THE OSCARS

I'm a big Oscar nerd yet I never win my Oscar pool (this year my father won with 19 correct -- I only had 13). I had the privilege this year to participate in the Supporting Actress Smackdown over at StinkyLulu.com. While Penelope Cruz was the unanaimous vote (myself included), I was glad to read all the kind words about Marisa Tomei, as I thought hers was a very subtle, nuanced performance. 'Twas a good time.

2. KIEHL'S EYE ENERGY CREAM



You can get this stuff at Nordstrom. I have been using it for the past two months and already look noticably less like I've been punched in the face. I realize the best way to combat dark circles is to get more sleep, drink less alcohol, drink more water and exercise, but what fun is that?

3. CALIFORNIA DREAMIN

Next week I am going to visit Los Angeles with my friend Diva! I am planning to wear a T-shirt that reads Tan and Buff the entire time.

4. THE SINBAD AND JAKEY SHOW




I have ventured into the world of radio and our fourth show is tonight! Stemming from the message board of wrestlingobserver.com, the Sinbad and Jakey Show is a rather eclectic mix of pro wrestling, pop culture, message board gossip and whatever callers want to discuss. The show is not at 11:30, not 11 as the original border says.

5. CHANNING TATUM



Because some things never change.

For this new feature in this underused blog, we will look back at recent events in my life that aren't as dramatic as I think they are. Certain names and identifying details have been changed, but everything else is true ...


Like sands through the hourglass, so are




The Gays of Our Lives

Sponsored by Bod body spray and Kiehl's Eye Energy Serum

Previously on Gays of Our Lives:


My friend Diva was in town, and after exchanging Christmas presents we went to a gay bar downtown -- it's always our place to go because if I bring that girl anywhere else downtown I will have to spend the entire night cock-blocking. Diva is the best person to go out with because she dances but doesn't drink, so I get to be wasted but save money on cabfare. Also, Diva went to Justin Morneau's wedding the night before and is instantly cooler than I will ever hope to be.

I don't know if you've ever been to this club, but it's a pretty big place and they have the drag show/Retro Bar upstairs and then downstairs has the dance floor (house music), a really small dance floor for current stuff, a big bar and then this kind of hidden bar that's by the ATM's and vending machines. It is downstairs in which Diva and I meet Ryan.

Ryan is the bartender, about 5'9", but relatively jacked. He was wearing a green PUMA T-shirt and had nice dimples. We first saw him when asking him where coat check was because I am retarded and don't understand there's a whole nother hallway in the joint. At some point he mentions having a boyfriend and my ears perk up because bartenders in gay bars are a lot like guys in gay porn; just because they're there doesn't mean they're actually gay in real life, and it's not a give-in that they are.

Ryan: "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Jakey: "Hells no!"
Ryan: "Why?"
Jakey: "I'm shallow as hell and I'm not looking."
Ryan: "Why are you shallow?"
Jakey (makes awkward flexing gesture)
Ryan: "Huh?"
Diva: "He likes jocks. And muscles."
Frank: "Do I have big enough muscles for you?" (he sooo does)
Ryan: "I'm not that shallow. You just have to laugh at my jokes and be able to put up shelves."
Ryan: "I like to laugh. I'd put up your shelves."
Jakey: *blusssshhh*
Ryan: "A lot of guys like the opposite. I like short skinny white boys." (this makes sense except Ryan is white)

Diva and I continue going all over the club -- the drag show and bathrooms are upstairs, and every time I get a drink I get them from Ryan except for my first one which is from the bartender who always wears Affliction T-shirts. At midnight in the bathroom I am putting on concealor.

"No one saw me do this," I announce. Who the fuck is going to judge? There's a drag queen pissing behind me.
"Jakey?" I hear someone ask, and it's Ricky Stevens.

A month ago, Ricky Stevens added me on Facebook. We went to high school together but he was a bit younger than I am. I responded to his friend request because I am a Facebook whore, whereas I'm beginning to wonder if Ricky is an actual whore. He went and got one of those "sexy" photo shooots, and oh my god, it would make Gaysian, my original high school nemesis, blush. Do not type in his name to get his profile picture. You will have post-traumatic stress disorder. Also, his profile is all about gay gay gay gay gay and he claims that 'he has been out since he was 12 years old', so I guess we're just gonna forget about that day when I was working at Walgreens and he was buying Tracey Bregman a bouquet of plastic flowers and a card in hopes she would be his girlfriend. Yeah.

Of course, any anger I have for Ricky didn't exist at that moment, and he introduces me to his friend Dom, who is tall and I think is handsome but Diva later informs me that I must have had vodka goggles on (and it's true because at this point I noticed Ricky has gotten a little thicker in the good way and if he wanted to make out at thatmoment I probably would have. I AM SUCH A SLUT). Ricky tells us that he dances in his underwear at this club and at another one a few blocks away.

"Diva used to do that!" I offer.
"Diva!" she yells.
"Oops," I say, but in Diva's defense she only danced at classy joints and never removed her panties.

We go back to Ryan's bar for round .... seven? Christ. I drink way too much.
"So can I have your number?" Ryan asks. I refuse, but Diva gives him mine.
"You're cute" he texts me.

When we leave I text him to have a good night and he says "you as well". Later he asks me what I like to do when fucking around. Because I am a slut I reply making out and geting picked up and he replies "really? that's cool." We make fake plans.

WEDNESDAY

Ryan calls at 7:30 in the morning and 7:45 in th emorning. I sleep through it. He calls again at noon and I answer it, still waking up. He asks if I want to fuck around at 2 AM, and I say I can't, cursing the fact that I don't have my own car or my own uptown apartment. However, Ryan still has a boyfriend and I am not oging to be the other woman because that is just asking the world for bad karma, like today when my father dropped me off at a green light and I told the old man honkkng at us to fuck off. I was punished by having to overhear a conversation on the light rail between a bunch of high school kids about Twilight.

SATURDAY

Ryan texts me while I am watching the Golden Globes and asks if I am going out tonight. I say no, again cursing the fact that I live at home and not a fancy uptown apartment. I ask if he is working tomorrow and he says yes. Foreshadowing!

I remember when he first spoke your name
And I tried so hard to play it cool
Kept downing the vodka like it was water
God knows I wasn't gonna be a fool

But I twisted my hair in knots
Kept staring at the ground
'Cause truth be told I can't compete with you

You're just a nineties baby
(nineties baby)
Young cute and insecure
Yeah I used to be just like you
You never know your beauty 'til it fades away
You never know your greatness 'til they take it away
You're just a nineties baby

I don't care what he thinks of you
He's gonna add you to the discard pile in time
I hate myself for what I think of you
Shouldn't hate you, you've not done a crime

To be mature it's jealousy
He sees me in one way but you in another
And I gotta take a bow or just duck and cover

You're just a nineties baby
(nineties baby)
Young cute and insecure
Yeah I used to be just like you
You never know your beauty 'til it fades away
You never know your greatness 'til they take it away
You're just a nineties baby

It's gonna be hell today
It's gonna take a while
But it's gonna be okay
Soon I'll be able to smile
Again

Yeah yeah
I used to be you
Young cute and insecure
And deep down I'd love to be you
Young cute and insecure
But you're just a nineties baby
Nineties baby
You never know your beauty 'til it fades away
You never know your greatness 'til they take it away
You're just a nineties baby

I think I'm going crazy.

The oddest things set me off.

Instead of being obsessed with my own lack of productivity I think I should finally be productive.

I think I picked the wrong week to stop drinking.

I'm going to write. Because I have not written in forever and maybe that is why I have been so anxious lately. I have so much going on in my head and I kind of put it away but it's still there. I really SHOULD be doing yoga but my lazy ass does not want to go back to the basement. Okay then.

It's not a race.

This is what I keep telling myself. Ever since I was 20 I have been convinced I am too old to go after my dreams. I have dark circles under my eyes and all of a sudden that means I don't look 16 anymore. No, what it does mean is I have to cut back on drinking, and I am thinking that I am gonna go three weeks without it until Julie's sister's birthday in a few weeks. I was looking at my journal from the New York year the other day, and I had this big epiphany, like, WOW, I was definitely an alcoholic in the sense of the word. I had no friends when I was in New York. I had voids to fill. I filled it with a liter of vodka a week.

I don't hate my job. The schedule kind of sucks, but that's retail. I mainly work in the men's fitting room where the men look like models and I get to take their rejects. I don't want to be there forever, but in this recession, a job is a job and I'm lucky to have it.

I am going back to school in June. It is a community college in downtown Minneapolis. We shall see how it goes. My plan is to get an Associates Degree and somehow that is gonna let me move back to New York, on my own terms. I don't want to obsess about time, but my goal is to be there by the time I'm 25. If I cut back on the drinking and keep using Keihl's Eye Energy Cream, available at Nordstrom for $29.97, I will look 21 and no one has to know. It's gonna be okay.

This month my father and I have seen Gran Torino and The Wrestler. Good flicks. Next month I will be taking part in the Supporting Actress Smackdown at stinkylulu.com, so I have three more movies that I for sure have to see before Oscar time.

For the past few weeks I was immersed in a pseudo love triangle with an attractive bartender and a kid who I went to high school with that I don't even want to talk about because when I do I became very angry and hateful. I will see the bartender in three weeks and I'm trying not to obsess about it. I don't care who he plays board games with, but if he has played board games with this kid he cannot play board games with me.

I am going to try to write more in here because I miss blogging and the commmunity that follows. I have been in such a weird mood lately.

This year sucked.

So did '07.

So did '06.

And in '05 I was young and stupid and was convinced it sucked.

Sigh.

A) Go to http://www.musicoutfitters.com

B) In the search box, enter the year you graduated from high school. Get the list of the 100 most popular songs of that year.

C) Italize the songs you liked, strike through the ones you hated, and bold your favorites. Do nothing to those you don’t remember or don’t care about.

*I forget how to strike through, so I'm just going to underline the ones I hate instead. And because I'm so bored, I'm going to make comments when I want to!

1. We Belong Together, Mariah Carey
This song was my jam! It was my freshman year of college, and I had just sort of gone through that first "lost love" thing (in retrospect it was all bullshit). I would play this album full-blast and you would simultaneously hear the doors in the dorm hallways shut.

( Read On )

Stolen from the delightful Anna

1. Name:
2. Birthday:
3. Place of residence:
4. What makes you happy:
5. What are you listening to now/have listened to last:
6. Do you read my LJ?:
7. If you do, what is particularly good/bad about it:
8. An interesting fact about you:
9. Are you in love/do you have a crush at the moment:
10. Favorite place to be:
11. Favorite lyric:
12. Best time of the year:


Recommend:

1. A film:
2. A book:
3. A band, a song and an album:


Plus:

1. One thing you like about me:
2. Two things you like about yourself:
3. Put this in your LJ so I can tell you what I think of you.

OK, so I'm just going to ramble in here because I don't write enough in here and I think writing is good for you, except for yesterday on the light rail when I had a notebook with me and I was writing my thoughts and I ended up writing "MY LIFE IS A WASTE" in giant letters.

I've made a lot of stupid choices in my life and I have to learn to move on so that I can make good choices in the future, but I also have to fotgive myself for making such stupid choices. If I am to believe that I was depressed for two years (which I was), then that is to believe that I was mentally ill. And I'm not saying that as an excuse to end all excuses -- after all, I could not commit murder or a bank and be released on my own recognizance upon telling police that I'm depressed -- but I am saying that to pat myself on the back a little bit. I wasn't Jakey ***** when I was in New York. I had been depressed for nearly a year by the time I was there, and then upon arrival I was like, "OKAY, CITY OF 8 MILLION! OKAY, COMMUTER CAMPUS WHERE I KNOW ABSOLUTELY NO ONE! WELCOME ME WITH OPEN ARMS! FIX ME!"

It didn't work that way. See, when I was a freshman at Stout, I was scared shitless, too -- but I was also naive, confident, and I put myself out there. I won the ThinkFast Trivia Challenge. I was in a sexually charged, provocative play. I floated around, and while I gradually did find my own posse (Season One of The UW to my most loyal readers), I still made sure to find friends and acqutiances from various groups.

I know if that Jakey had been in Brooklyn College, he could have made it. He would have tried out for the acting program in April, and either enrolled in that major if he made it or found another one to embrace. He would have finally been able to study something he had great passion for, and he would have excelled. Again, I'm not saying this to justify the fact that I had a great opportunity and completely blew it, nor to excuse the fact that I completely wasted $16,000 of my mother's precious pre-recession money; but I'm saying this to let myself down easy. I wasn't there. I wasn't myself. I had been broken, almost sleeping, for a very long time.

Of course, this does nothing to change where I am now: 22, living with my parents, working a 40-hour-a-week retail job, all talk and no action. I am also a disgusting hairy beast and can't afford the laser removal, but that is neither here nor there. I am gradually learning that the only person who held me back all these years was myself (and I always knew that, deep down), but I can only achieve my goals if I forgive that person first.

Today I went to the US Gymnastics Team Tour at the XCel Energy Center! We had floor seats because I rule at TicketMaster. I was going to go with my friend Erin but she rolled her ankle while crossing the street downtown (I still think it's karma for not voting in the election), so my mom and I went with my Grandma! I AM SOOOO COOL. Okay, who was there?



Shawn Johnson is absolutely adorable! I just want to put her in my pocket and feed her bread crumbs. We all loved her even though she is from Iowa.



NASTIA is really good but one of her routines was to that AWFULLL song "Butterfly Kisses", that really creepy one about the dad and his daughter and how he hates that she's growing up, and you can listen to it thinking it's a beautiful song about Christian family values, or you can be me and think that it's about a Joe Simpson who is obviously in love with his own daughter. Uggggh.



Shannon Miller is still doing the tours. She won a medal in Atlanta! I was at the Atlanta games but didn't see gymnastics because we didn't have that kind of money. Instead I saw softball and baseball, and my father is on some Australian blooper sports reel because a softball was pretty much in his lap but he had binoculars so he couldn't tell and it bounced off his crotch and some other bloke caught it. *Sigh*



Does anyone remember Blaine Wilson? He competed in '00 and '04 and during one of those years he did really bad and they kept cutting to his sister crying in the stands, and they weren't happy PhelpsMama tears but like upset, sibling, "Why are you sucking so bad??" tears. He was very good tonight, though, and if you Google him that boy has done more shirtless pictures than Marky Mark.



The Hamm Brothers were there! They both got injured which is why the US Men's team was all rookies. They did a routine to "Stronger" by Kanye West and it was really cool, but their voices still creep me out, and I sound like Sarah Palin when I talk.

Anyway, gymnastics isn't a "gay" sport. You don't have to be gay or a girl to enjoy it is a legitimate sporting event or, in this case, an exhibition of athletic talent. These people work insanely hard and have insanely bangin' bodies that will just make you depressed. My point is that my buying expensive tickets and getting great seats to this show have absolutely nothing to do with "cute boys" or whatever.




By the way, I LOVE YOU JONATHAN HORTON! I was so mad when the guy from the Gophers team dissed your Oklahoma! I still cheered when you missed that one landing! I loved that you were the only male gymnast to get his own solo routine and I was cheering the loudest! I love that you're a year older than me and that way I don't have to feel like a total creeper! It was so weird this afternoon because you had your shirt off the entire time and I was sitting next to my grandmother! I know you don't swing my way and if you did you would probably end up with someone who looks like Justin Spring anyway, but next time you're in town we should, y'know, go to a Twins game or whatever it is that .... guys ... do! You were my favorite Olympic athlete to watch this summer not because of your adorable Texas drawl or your admittedly bangin body but because while you were all of rookies and dreamers, when the cameras let us in you were always the one cheering the most and the loudest and trying to keep everybody positive even when things weren't going so great, and I felt that it was you that most exemplified your team's spirit of having hope and belief and never giving up and I think I need a drink of water!

I no longer work at Walgreens in the ghetto, having moved on to a classy department store at the Mall of America where I get to wear a shirt and tie and talk to ladies while their boyfriends are in the fitting rooms trying on expensive jeans. While I am excited about this new venture, I feel I will miss my North Minneapolis roots. I feel bad that I didn't write more about it in here because I did have a lot of great regulars and hear a lot of great stories, but I think I was so focused on the negativity, that I was 22, living at home and working at WALGREENS, that I couldn't sit back and be present and enjoy it for what it was. Once I started thinkig positive, I got a better job and my driver's license. Funny how that freaky Oprah shit works every now and then.

[b]I will miss:[/b]

*Dolores, the lady in the Hovaround who would come in saying "HI BABY" and almost be late to get to her medication because she was too busy yapping at the Laundromat.
*Coffy, my 60-year-old best friend I made there who is moving to Nebraska to be a CPA for her mother. Coffy has been widowed for 30 years and her father was a boxer and her life seems so much more interesting than mine.
*Leroy, the blind man who was rude to me the first time he came in, but he was later very nice, and if you ignore the fact that he always called me "Ma'am", I felt we got along quite nicely.
*Does anyone remember the time I bitched about the lady who called me a gay-ass cashier? It turns out she was high on meth that night, because every other time she came in she was very cordial.
*Phrases like "Imma pop you on your booty", because I don't think I will be hearing that at the department store.

[b]I Am Torn About:[/b]
*Suzanne, the Jessica Alba lookalike in pharmacy who denied my Facebook ad. On my last day she was like, "Awww, we never got to hang out" and in my head I'm just thinking FUCK YOU SUZANNE IF WE WERE FRIENDS ON FACEBOOK YOU COULD WRITE ON MY WALL AND MAKE PLANS WITH ME, and she said she shops a lot at my new store, and while it's unfair to say that Suzanne would have turned me straight and we'd be getting married, she certainly didn't help.

[b]
I Will Not Miss:[/b]
*Everyone else had Hovarounds, those automated wheelchairs that zip by, and if you see the infomercial it shows all the old people at the park and it's kind of like a horror movie because I always think they're gonna end up attacking the city like a bunch of zombies, but anyway this one lady did NOT have a Hovaround, she had a manual wheelchair, and she bitched about EVERYTHING.

OLD LADY: "What did that bread ring up as?"
ME: "$2.00, on sale."
OLD LADY: "Two dollars? Oh .... that's so expensive."
ME: "...Yeah..."
OLD LADY: "Can't you make it so it's *not* two dollars? And can you triple bag it and tie it to my chair? And that cart needs to be out of the way. And why is the bread so expensive?"

*People asking me to make change for a $20, in singles, because Walgreens is also a bank if you haven't heard.

*People paying me $20 in change.

*Fuckin' douchebags, man. I butched myself up so hard for this gig. I lowered my voice three octaves, started dropping my s's and g's, but the one time I use my real voice is the one time I get shit on for it. Thankfully my manager kicked the guy out, and I got a thick skin, but at least now that I am selling menswear if people think I'm gay it makes me seem credible instead of threatening

I got my driver's license today.

I don't want to brag, but how many 22-year-olds do you know with a driver's license AND a job?

Oh, hear me out, you guys, it's not like I denied Newports to someone two days shy of being 18 (although back when I worked in the 'burbs where police departments send in undercover agents every week, those fuckers were TRAINED to screw you up).

But I did prevent two pimply-faced 16-year-olds from Robotripping. I'm neither stupid nor judgmental. If they had bought, say, ONE bottle of cough syrup containing DXM, and then maybe some candy, and a magazine, and, I don't know what else, baby suppositories, I'd have thought nothing of it, ignored the "IS CUSTOMER OVER 18" prompt, told them to have a nice day.

Alas, they purchase two things of Mountain Dew Amp and TWO bottles of cough syrup with DXM. I asked for ID, they didn't have it, and I denied them their cough syrup. I don't know why I overthought this the way I did. Perhaps it's because:

a) I watch Intervention and there is no doubt in my mind they were going to Robotrip. As Judge Judy would say as she pointed to her forehead, "Does it stay stupid here?"

b) I am so against Robotripping out of sheer snobbery. When I was 15, I was doing vodka pulls with the pastor's daughter, tripping down the stairs and telling her parents how much I loved Jesus. I did not need to raid the drugstore and score some Robitussin to get drunk.

c)Mountain Dew Amp? Really? I drank that once and I had to pee every three point four minutes.

I've decided that I really miss New York. I always did, but these past few days have been especially bad, and it's not just because 10,000 investment bankers are going to lose their jobs and I feel almost ... responsible? Like I left before things got really shitty. Kind of like how I left Minneapolis 48 hours after the bridge collapsed.

I'm not as depressed as I was the past two months, and for that I thank Walgreens in North Minneapolis. My colleagues work themselves to the bone, and they sincerely make me laugh every day, and 95% of the customers inspire similar sentiments. So of course it makes sense that I'm leaving that job in two weeks to take one at the Mall of America so I can wear a shirt and tie (it was a job offer that came out of nowhere, and my decision was mainly financial; in a way, I feel like TNA Knockout Gail Kim, likely to return to WWE solely based on money). I think I will like the new job, but hopefully I can practice pinning shirts at home, because I have the fine motor skills of a four-year-old.

Diva and I always planned to move to Los Angeles. Do I still want to do that? Perhaps the reason I want to go so bad is because it's unknown to me. But in a way, New York was, too. Yes, I was there, but I wasn't there and able to be young and free; I was young and trapped, confused, lonely, depressed, jaded, a hopeless alcoholic. And while I don't regret going there, I certainlny feel that in three short words, "I blew it", and while I tell myself that that's okay because I learned from it, it doesn't take away the fact that I'm 22 years old, doing nothing to get to the fine arts career I *want* to have, and living with my parents. All I know is that a year from now I have to be living in another state to truly be happy, and I have no idea how the hell I'm gonna do that.

Your son is hopelessly gay"
She told my father

Before this was said
I found her delightful
The 43-year-old local
Who bought me a drink

My father
The father of the hopelessly gay son
Later informed me
That she had five kids by five different dudes
And said she was the C-word
And said he never used the C-word

My father is not a saint
He was not always nice to me
When I was nine years old
In love with a boy named xxxxx
And letting everybody know about it

Then I got depressed at 13
And his light bulb went off
And he realized that having an alive gay son
Was better than having a dead son

This is the same man
Who saw me in a Caryl Churchill show
Complete with monologue about anonymous blow jobs

This is the same man
Who literally bled putting up my loft freshman year
As I had no athletic skills to offer

This is the same man
Who signed all my tardy slips senior year
Telling me 'someday you will find someone who loves you for you'
Wrongfully assuming my laziness was about a boy
The thought still counts

This is the same man
Who will always fight for me

"She said your son is hopelessly gay"
he told me in the truck
I said I was sorry
He said not to worry
I now wonder what to feel

In the movie in my mind
I move beyond Jake's Sports Cafe
Alas
There is no such thing as a successful lazy person
Ironically
I learned that from Walgreen's World Magazine
Time will tell

Yesterday, Wifey and I went to the Minnesota State Fair, where you can get anything deep-fried and on a stick. Before that we stopped at my work to get my paycheck. They begged me to work a few hours. I aid no like a selfish asshole, then later bitched about my check being less than my last one. After going to the bank, we were on our way to the fair, despite the fact that I realized I had not brushed my teeth. GROSS! Thank God for listerine strips.

Erin wanted to go to the Education Building, where I felt like a dumb-ass since I am a two-time college dropout. Still, we enjoyed the plethora of free crap, such as a free Bill of Rights fan from the ACLU people, a free Joe Mauer poster from Minnesota Health Services, and a free pamphlet from the Jewish History people. Of course, Erin lost the bag later in the day, so there went my plans of talking to my Joe Mauer poster on rainy days, as well as Erin's plans of using the cutting board we won in another building for playing Porktionary.

Then we were off to the L'Oreal booth. They had a red carpet on the way in and I was sad that we didn't have a camera between us. I felt kind of ugly in there because we were in line waiting for the L'Oreal Gays, but then one of them gave me advice and free conditioner samples, and then I felt happy again. Yes, we lost the samples too. On the way out, a L'Oreal Girl complimented my 'Tough Guys Wear Pink" shirt. I LOVED THE L'OREAL BOOTH. I wanted to stay there forever.

We met up with college friends of Erin's and went on rides. I swore a lot. Overall, I was in kind of a lousy mood because I was way too boy-crazy yesterday, and while it is always in a G or PG-rated way, I am so close to being that creepy old guy, even though I totally used Nair today.

I am going downtown to a lounge tonight, first shift tomorrow be damned.

I don't write in here anymore, and that is sad, because even if no one is reading it anymore, I still feel like by not journaling anywhere I am not admitting to myself what my life has become, and that is not good.

Walgreens doesn't suck. I don't want to work there forever, and I am not paid enough money to ever be able to leave my house on my own, but it helps to pass the time. I *love* my co-workers, especially Coffy. She is 60 years old but looks 40. She has been widowed since she was 30. Her father was a professional boxer. I want to just sit and listen to her life stories and her advice about life and love.

My friend Diva, who is usually flakier than a box of shredded wheat, got accepted to a fashion school in Los Angeles, and that means that I should be making plans to get my ass out there. I am taking three driving lessons in three days next month and then the epic road test. By the way, I am 22 and not 16, but you would never know it. I have also been obsessing about losing my babyface, which is why I am now moisturizing like crazy.

I seriously think I have carpal tunnel from that fucking cash register.

Everyone is like "Oh, I heard you were doing stand-up" and I don't have the heart to say "I only did open mikes and haven't done it in almost a year".

I just want to go to the bars with all of the young attractive people and I already feel like I'm too old. At 22 I have allowed myself to feel like a creepy old man.

I have to stop thinking about how much of what happened is so unfair, because the only reason things were unfair is because I lst them be. I hope "be" is not a preposition.