Vegas Loose Ends

Well as I have had a little separation from Vegas and been to work for a solid day, I remembered a few interesting details and tidbits that I wanted to write down before I forgot:

1. I slept on the floor each night in Vegas. Now, I am not complaining in the least because my bedmate, SwB is a big dude like myself and there was just no way for us to sleep in the tiny bed at Caesar's.. And actually it was not that bad except for the hip pointer that I now have... (not sure that was interesting but I am just warming up)

2. It rained on the last day in Vegas and I mean it did not just rain for ten minutes as the storm lasted a decent 8 hours or so. It also included lightning which in the desert with nothing else around is pretty amazing. (wish I had a digital camera)

3. I saw Pete Rose while I was in Vegas. Now the thought of seeing Pete Rose in Vegas makes me laugh even as I write this mainly because for those that do not know, he was banned from baseball for gambling on the game. Something that he denied at the time but has now admitted. As a result, it was good to see that Pete has done everything he can to demonstrate that he no longer has a problem. I just wish I had caught him in the Sportsbook betting on the Reds.

4. Finally, if you are having a bachelor party in Vegas, try to get one dude in the party who does not look like Elephant Man. While in the pool in Vegas, my group saw one of the ugliest bachelor parties ever. Sadly, this criticism is why I will be forever single since I judge people too often... But come on, they could have rented somebody for the weekend.

5. The computer cost me five bucks a minute to use while in Vegas. Never question my commitment.

My Own Damn Bed

Is where I will be sleeping tonight... I finally arrived home from Las Vegas this afternoon at 3 PM after spending from 9 PM to 3 AM last night at the airport in Las Vegas attempting to survive an ironic... rain delay... It seems that while I was in the desert, back here in the East, God decided to give Noah a second chance to build that ark and unleashed monsoon season. As a result, instead of getting home at 5 AM on the East Coast, I arrived home at 3 PM....Other than that the flight and everything was great and this time when we landed in Newark, applause was acceptable since we all deserved a pat on the back by arriving home.

NOW, I must sleep...

The Final Countdown

Well it's the last day in Vegas and I am ready to get the fuck out of dodge. I finally made it downtown last night to Fremont Street and the Golden Nugget Casino where I basically ate the casino's lunch....meaning I won... So as long as I do not sit down at a table before I leave I stand to be up for the trip, 300 dollars or so... a great take....

All and all Vegas was a blast... not sure when or if I will come back but I had a great time with a great group of people..

Till tomorrow and the big apple...

Groundhog Day

As previously stated, I have been to Vegas four times in the last three years and each time right around this point i.e. Day 4, I hit the wall and want to go home. And this is exactly what has happened today. I am still enjoying myself, but I am ready to come home.

More importantly, for the first time probably ever, I am ready to make some simple but life alteringly effective changes. I don't want to talk too much about right now because:

a) I am paying to type this entry.
b) Talk is just that, talk. Action is what I need, not talk.

BUT these changes are very real and I am very serious about them.

Strangely, my buddy, Savage, whose blog appears in the links to the right, appears to have had a life-altering event in the wee hours of this morning. Read it. Our society is going to hell in a handbasket.

As for a quick rundown, here are two Vegas stories:

1) My group, who bills ourselves as the US National High Five Team, went to the hottest club in Vegas called Pure, which is owned by a group of famous athletes i.e. Andre Agassi, Steffi Graf, Shaq and Rich Gedman. Anyway, the club is located in our hotel and basically requires the donation of a kidney to gain admittance or be a hot hot girl. Since I value my bodily organs and have not had a sex change, my chance along with the other male members of the group had a snow balls chance in hell of getting in. BUT in Vegas, everything has a price... and thus, after paying some dude 75 bucks to cut the four hour line last night, our group found ourselves roof top at Pure overlooking the Vegas Strip... All and all it was a great night and the club was amazing.... not sure though if it was worth the coin.

2) Before, I went out last night, I realized that my flight back was for the wrong day in that I was supposed to come back Monday evening instead of leaving on Sunday evening as I planned. As I have already said, I am pretty ready to get back to the City, and thus, the thought of ONE MORE NIGHT was less than desirable. Thankfully, the good people at Continental squared everything away this morning, and I am now good to go, although I had to spend an additional hundred bucks (on my own credit card) to switch the flight... SO it's all good.

Back to the pool.

Quick Fix

Just got back from six hours at the pool and had to vent. Apparently the management at Caesar's does not find it necessary to hire competent staff people since our waitress Valentina chose to approach us at best, once an hour and to take atleast another 45 minutes to get us our orders. I understand that this place is packed but service sufficiency is what casinos are all about and I cannot imagine that they endorse her inability to actually perform her job. With that said, I drank enough that I am currently considering a nap in order to make it out tonight...


And even though I am pissed, there was one highlight from her service when Valentina approached us with our first bucket of Coronas (cans) and the following conversation ensued....

V: Would you like some more? (thick argentinean accent)

Note: She has just delivered us five full Coronas for two people.

Us: No, we are okay, we will just drink these..

Her response was priceless...

V: Such big boys SO LITTLE CANS...

I am not sure what that means but I have a feeling she just tried to offer us something that is not on the official menu.. and yes, if you do not understand any of that neither do I.

Anyway off to shit, shower, and shave...

Oh before I forget.. Celine Dion is the main performer here at Caesar's and has some crazy contract that makes it impossible for her to ever be poor or for the entire country of Canada to be poor. As such, her face is on all of chips here... Anyway, the first night of blackjack playing, Dave, the gambler, invoked a NO CELINE rule, which basically means that everytime we play any form of game, we demand that each player flip over any chip in front of them so that her face is not showing. Currently, every table we have played at has resulted in all players and dealers making sure that Celine's face is on the felt... Which proves that no one loves Celine Dion while Germans love David Hasselhoff.

A man, a plan, and a mechanical bull

Well here it is a little later than yesterday and a little bit more of my soul depleted. I had an interesting go of it last night with the gambling. Basically, I went up big and then lost what I had gone up on. The House never loses, remember that...

As for the rest of my evening... here is the rundown.

1. Cigar bar-- Caesar's is a fucken monster of a casino and in said casino, there is a cigar bar. Last night my buddies and I hit it up and managed to meet a couple of "connected" individuals who are casino hosts at big money casinos in Vegas. (names will not be mentioned since I want to live) Needless to say, if half of what they said was true, these individuals live some of the craziest lives I have heard about replete with lap dances from Paris Hilton and the tossing of Cuban Gooding, Jr. from their establishments... Oh and the cigars were good along with a drink called Hemingway's Epitaph containing rum, something, something, and drunk...

2. The New Frontier-- probably one of the shittiest and oldest casinos on the Strip, but they have a mechanical bull in their country bar. Needless to say, we hit up the bull and the bar last night and had an incredible time. I did not ride due to a recent hamstring injury but watching some of the talent made the night most enjoyable... although at times, the songs reminded me of her. But I managed to avoid a breakdown... hopefully, I can keep that trend up but I am not making any promises...

Finally, in Vegas, everyone is selling something. A perfect example is our cab driver last night that not only offered us a trip to a gentleman's club but also Asian whores... I am not sure why we looked like we needed Asian whores but the Asian Prince (our cabbie) figured we needed a solid...

Sorry this post is a little dull and slow but I am hitting a rut and a bit tired... I will make best efforts to rebound tomorrow.

Back your bets and always cover the come line.... (that's craps people)

One Hour Limit

As opposed to the 15 dollar limit at most blackjack tables, the above is the amount of sleep I got last night. Just to help my readers, here is a bit of advice, trying to kick a bad drinking habit is not to be done in Vegas as this place oozes booze. I knew that.. and I am prepared to be judged or stoned to death...

Anyway, I am writing slightly drunk and semi-full at 9:23 AM Vegas time after trying to get some sleep at 6 AM... Trying is the key word since some members of my party failed to return to the room until 7 AM and then proceeded to wake me to go to the pool... As such, I am not a rested or happy camper... But here are a few things I wanted to chime in with about this trip...

1. Played Blackjack, Roulette, and Craps last night and I am currently up 20-25 dollars... and since I wrote that I will soon lose all of my money, my soul, and any hope of return from this hell hole.

2. The theme "What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas" is actually a commentary on how no matter how hard you try to remember, the excess of booze and limited sleep makes that concept an impossibility.

3. Moms in Bikinis-- there have been several and each time they have been followed by two or three children who want to end their lives with embarassment. I am not opposing their right to wear such pieces, but why do they hate kids?

4. Back waxing is far less painful than a tattoo, but I can definitely see how someone could take a swing at their waxer at some point... It is the ultimate tearing off of the band aid irritation...

Finally, I apologize for any typos, spelling errors, or inappropriate sentence structures, I am drunk... Go fuck yourselves...

I am in there like swim wear.

Back Waxing and the Pool

I have landed... and checked into Caesar's Palace...I figured I would give a quick post to update the trip so far. The flight was smooth and the weather is gorgeous... It was a weird flight since I traveled solo due to the recent downfall of my existence... and as such, I flew the friendly skies with a 300 pound smelly dude as my row mate... not exactly ideal...

One bone of contention about the flight.. what is up with people clapping when the plane lands successfully? Isn't that what it is supposed to do? I mean is this supposed to be a miracle? I expect to land safetly so please hold the applause for something that warrants it.

As for Vegas itself, I have already lost a couple of bucks and plan to find the foo foo drink lady as soon as I get done typing. I am here for the next nine hours by myself since my other friends do not arrive till 10 this evening. As such, I have scheduled a back waxing for three o'clock and yes, I HAVE COMPLETELY LOST MY MIND... but I am in Vegas so why not...

Updates hopefully to follow throughout the weekend if I am still able to type.

Off to See Caesar!!!

So when you start to feel glum and want to spend time with people that have no souls, you head to Vegas. And that ladies and gentleman is where I will be for the next couple of days fulfilling my yearly tradition of sun, fun, and unnecessary expending of government green. This will be my fourth trip in three years and I almost want to start planning for next year.

The funny thing is that I really do love Vegas and truly, I do not love it for those cheezy perks like whores, cocaine, and whores... I mean I have done those things while there... Okay maybe not but I did go to a strip club there once and we did hire strippers for my buddy's bachelor party who turned out to have extras for a price. In retrospect that had to be one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me in that I found myself having some coked out stripper asking me if I wanted to sleep with her for 500 dollars. I think I may have just given her that scared look an elementary school boy gives a girl who tries to kiss him. (I love to think my parents read this with horror each day that I post, but in truth, I am just happy that the four people that I know read it with horror.)

ANYWAY, I am off to Sin City tomorrow at 9 and will spend most of the time at the pool getting a bitchin' tan and drinkin' some fine foo foo lady drinks. I will gamble and lose but in the end, I will just be happy that I am away from all of this for a little bit. I need this vacation more than I can ever state and hope to come back with a plan for all that is fucking with me. Some would go to places of inspiration like France or Italy to cultivate their own personal world plan, but instead, I go to Vegas... I never said I was perfect... DON'T JUDGE ME!!!

Hipster Profiling

Recently, my friends and I had a brief discussion about the lunacy of the newly invoked random bag searching policy that the NYPD has started here in the City. At that time, I stated that this was a topic ripe for discussion in this forum but that I did not want to write about since I figured every hipster with a keyboard would be screaming about HOW AWFUL THE POLICY IS and HOW THEIR RIGHTS WERE BEING VIOLATED, etc. etc. etc. In reality, they should be more concerned about how the NYPD may find their three pounds of marijuana or that bag of coke stealthy stashed up their poop shoot. (yeah I said poop shoot, fuck off, it's nine in the morning) As such, I was not going to throw my hat into this forum but like with everything in my life, I changed my mind.... But only for a limited purpose...

Before I explain that purpose I would like to blame Chuck Klosterman for the remainder of this entry. Chuck is a pop culture guru and writer who has written Williamsburg favorites like "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs" and the recent, "Killing Yourself to Live." I like him because he has this uncanny ability to interject everyday observations of the human race into his writing no matter how unrelated this observation seems as you read it and then make that observation unquestionably relevant.

As a result, the reason why I blame him is that on the G train the other day, I was quietly reading his most recent book and thinking about this specific ability. And then in reaction, I started to look around the train in order to people watch and I could not stop. (For the record, I wish this blog had footnotes so that I could write these random thought somewhere else besides in my actual entry. I also wish that I had Tommy Lee's penis and could dunk a basketball but what does that have to do with the price of cheese? And I don't even like corn.... But back to the point of this random interjection, people watching or gawking or drooling is done by everyone in this City of ours and so blatantly that no one even seems to mind or notice it anymore)

Anyway, I proceeded to do exactly the same thing (people watch) when I transferred to L train. Note: a transfer in this situation means that I am a lazy fuck because my transfer is for one stop which is completely unnecessary and instead is easily walkable.

All of this watching got me to thinking that the NYPD is going to have one hell of a time searching bags prior to passengers getting on the train if they focus on the people who utilize my subway lines. For example, on the train back home that day there was this dude who we will now call Suspect A. Suspect A was wearing a Salvation Army quality tailored suit (brown i believe) and the required aviator sunglasses to match. He was also decked out with a fresh new haircut and a smug look of judgment planted on his face. And then to top it all off, he was carrying a lampshade. Now clearly, he had probably purchased this lampshade in the City. And even more clearly, he probably bought it at some cheap retail store or in true retard form, upped the fucken ante and purchased it at an over-priced antique store.

Regardless of where Suspect A purchased it, the point is this, Suspect A was the least suspicious looking person on my train as my train ran the gammet from the homeless to hippest. In fact, he looked completely normal for where I live. And that is why this new policy is a fucken farce, because no matter what we do and who we search, there is no way to tell who could be carrying a bomb or whatever and who could not be. The reality is that if someone really wants to blow my ass up like Jenna Jameson during a gang bang, they are going to do it.

And that is why I hate this policy because it is another band aid measure to combat the "war on terror" implemented solely to make joey from the Bronx and rosemarie from Brooklyn feel safer when in fact they are no safer than they were before the policy existed. Sadly, I do not necessarily have the answer to making ourselves safer although I think alot of it has to start with a better intelligence network that acts not for political gain but for the sole purpose of protecting the citizens who fund it. But until then, we are left with New York City's Finest trying to determine if Suspect A is a potential bomber or just another dude who spent way too much on a lampshade.

Do You Wake Up Early On The Last Day Of Your Life?

As a disclaimer, the subject of this mornings entry is not because I want to kill myself nor do I intend to but more due to the fact that I am up at 6 in the morning. As a result, while showering, I started to wonder if you wake up early for your own death meaning to a suicidal person is the events of that day so important that they actually get up early to prepare for it. I doubt it, but it would be cool if they did.

I woke this morning because I cannot take my life anymore. Last night, I did the usual.. smoke some... drink more.. and then pass out... But during it all, I managed to find out that my ex girlfriend has gone back to her old boyfriend from college and that caused me to wake up as soon as I tasted daylight. Needless to say, I am pretty fucked about it. Mainly because I do not understand why I cannot ever be happy with another person and why I am such a great launching pad for women to find the loves of their lives.

I mean there have been minor incidents like this throughout my life, but more importantly, the two biggest relationships I have ever have with the ex and a former high school girlfriend have at their ends resulted in that person finding eternal happiness shortly after they end their relationship with me. This phenomenon leaves me to believe that I must drive these individuals to search for anything better. And makes me think that I in turn will never find that happiness.

Hence, I am up at 6 in the morning sobering up while despising myself.

Harry Potter and the Asian Scrub

I need to call myself out before I crash for the evening. A couple of blogs ago, I criticized a woman who was watching that artist jump off the museum in Chicago as his comment on the 9/11 attacks. Her comment on the event was:

"It was fabulous," said Darlene Schuff, 56. "I just wanted to be a part of it. It's a happening."

And then last Friday night, I found myself heading out to purchase Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince and thus participating in a "happening" that "I just wanted to be a part of." And while, in my mind I can see a clear distinction because I just really wanted to read the damn book as soon as possible, I also understand that in a way, I criticized this woman for wanting to experience a happening. And thus, although I also think that Ms. Schuff probably finds herself at many a happening these days when she is not teeing off at the club, I have to acknowledge that my previous post now wreaks of hypocrisy.

As a result, Ms. Schuff if you are out there, please feel free to come and challenge me a Bloodsport-esque battle till one of us says, "Uncle!".

It's the least I can do.... BRING IT BITCH!!!

Donkey Punch

First and foremost, this blog has nothing to do with the aforementioned Donkey Punch. Although, if you ever want to really get in good with a lady, just let her know that by the end of the evening you hope that you can give her a Donkey Punch topped off with a Cleveland Steamer. I am not speculating about the success of this tactic, I am practically guaranteeing it. I mean ladies love when you assault and degrade them during the same bout with intercourse.

Note: For those of you who read the above and actually thought I was serious are: A) Seriously drunk or B) Dumb like Dude Fuck Dumb.

Note: Dude Fuck dumb is what my friends and I used to say the stereotypical jocks would say to each other when discussing the vocabulary and conversation content of the stereotypical jock.

For example:

Jock 1: Dude!!!
Jock 2: FUCK!!!

It is all truly clear, isn't it?

Anyway, I figured I would drop a blog for the homies this evening since for the first time in a long time, I have nothing to do on a Friday night and have actual free time. So here is the update...

Note: Make sure you read the following with your pants off...

First, my trip to Chicago was an unbelievable success. As stated, I traveled with my closest friends in the whole world. I mean these are the people that I fight with for five minutes and then just laugh at whatever we were fighting about. But as stated the trip was great as the drive both ways proved to be painless and the wedding itself was amazing. If I did not state this before, the wedding was an Indian wedding, and as a result, the ceremony itself was so beautiful and chock full of symbolism. Afterwards, the reception introduced me to a new category of dancing, Indian Dancing, which involves levels of sweating that I did not believe were humanly possible. I personally think that this saved each of us from being horribly hungover for the drive back. Plus, Dizzle got some nookie which proves he is not a gay faggot. (not that there is anything wrong with that)

Since then, I have been trying to actually have a summer, which has included a trip to Jones Beach and a bonafide summer picnic party which is written about by Savage. (see my links) Further, I started to train for my second marathon in October...

And thus for now, I am out like you read about...

It's 800 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses

Well dear readers, tomorrow, I start a little road trip to the windy city known as Chicago, the land of Cubs, Bears, Bulls, and Perfect Strangers. My buddies and one wife are renting a van to make the 800 mile drive to a wedding in which two of us are participating members and as a result, will be dressed in traditional Indian garb.

Now, some may say that the thought of driving to Chicago from NYC seems ludicrous, but actually, this decision was not made after a case of beer or a week long meth bender, it actually was decided upon because the plane tickets to get to Chicago hovered around the 300-400 dollar mark for the last six months. Since each of us is now at a various level of poor, driving seemed like a realistic option especially when we are saving upwards of 200 bucks a person.

AND if it sounds like I am still trying to rationalize this entire trip in my own mind, you are absolutely correct. Mainly because the only other road trip that I made with certain members of the group traveling to Chicago has forever been labeled by me as the ROAD TRIP FROM HELL. The trip occurred after my freshman year of college when one of my buddy's, Gerg (name changed to protect him), asked me and a couple other friends if we would be interested in going to see U2 at Ben Franklin Field in Philadelphia, PA. We all agreed but of course, there was a catch, we had to pick Gerg up from Ithaca, NY, which meant that we had to drive from Southeastern Connecticut to Ithaca and then onto Philadelphia. Now, I will not bore you with the details, but in the end, I believe we left for Ithaca three days before the concert and managed to make it to Philadelphia right when U2 hit the stage. Thankfully, the drive back only took two days. So that is the context in which our present trip is being framed in my mind...

I hope that this does not become the sequel to the ROAD TRIP FROM HELL, but everybody loves a sequel... So tomorrow, I depart, and I will be keeping a diary the entire way, I am going to try an hour by hour affair which will probably drop off to a daily recap... now back to packing.

Sports Update

So I know that it has been a long time that I have posted minus the marriage depression blurb that I just threw out to the world... So I figured that I would give my faithful readers a little more bang for their proverbial buck... As a result, here is my latest opinions on my favorite topic in the world.... the world of sports...

1. The Red Sox-- ok the Red Sox for some reason or another found their magic from last year. I mean minus this evening where I believe they are going to lose, they have won their last seven games in a row. And they have done it by hitting the living shit out of the ball and with dominating starting pitching for the most part. All of this is without Schilling. And now they find themselves in first place. I think that for the Sox to have a successful season they need to win the division this year and make it to the World Series. I mean why not! The White Sox may be ok but I think the Sox can put together a stretch and not those guys out of the AL spot for the Series.

2. The Yankees-- BLOW-- and to be honest, I am almost more interested in their day to day struggles than I am with those of the Red Sox. Mainly this is because at any point as the Yanks lose more and more, the Boss is bound to just lose his shit and fire the entire club. Truly this is what I am hoping for or atleast I am hoping that they simply disband the ball club realizing that their whole existence was a mistake. I am not kidding.

3. The UConn Basketball Team 2005-2006-- This team is on the verge of real problems or they possibly could be already there. I mean they have already lost Andrew Bynum to the NBA. And now, it appears that their two PG's recently decided to engage in some extra-curricular activities by allegedly stealing campus computers. As a result, it looks like me and my buddy Greg will be re-enrolling at UConn next year and handling the rock for Jimmy C. Atleast AJ Price did not almost die last year so that he would want to make sure that he did everything to win next year... OH FUCKEN WAIT....

So that is my recap... I hope the C's do not draft a douche bag tomorrow night... and that some American wins Wimbledon... and of course, I hope for World Peace and the end to world hunger...

oh yeah and that MTV plays a music video in the next 24 hours...

Marriage Is What Brings Us Here Together

So this weekend I went home to the lovely confines of Southeastern CT to attend a friend of the family's wedding. This was a guy who is younger than me but is now married and just bought a house. Next weekend, I will be heading to Chicago to attend another wedding of a friend from high school.

Marriage is an amazing thing to me because in my own life, I seem so far from that point. I mean I have loved and been loved but in my life, it appears that there is something that prevents me from taking that next step to the altar. Instead of being able to progress to that point, I either freak out when someone actually cares for me or I manage to allow my own personal demons take control of my life so that the one who loves me no longer sees the person that they fell in love with. And all of this makes me wonder if I will ever be the one who gets to stand at the altar or as I see it on the waterfront and devote myself to someone else.

Another to My List

So I don't know if you read about this guy, but apparently on Tuesday in Chicago a performance artist renacted the images of business people falling from buildings during 9/11 by jumping over thirty times from the roof of the Museum of Contemporary Art. Now, while I have many problems with this whole project, I understand that he is free to express himself and how 9/11 made him feel so even if I don't agree with him, I will not attack him here.

What really bothered me about this whole performance was the quote that I read from an apparent onlooker:

"It was fabulous," said Darlene Schuff, 56. "I just wanted to be a part of it. It's a happening."

Now, I will concede that I do not understand alot of art that is out there. But I am fairly educated, and even still, this quote BLOWS MY FUCKEN MIND... I mean ok maybe what he was doing in her eyes was fabulous... cause I guess renacting people falling from buildings to their deaths is fabulous... I guess... And I can understand someone wanting to be a part of something, I mean I always wanted to be part of organized sports and now that I am not I want to be part of that again. I mean we all like friends. And yes, I also guess that this would be happening... I mean how often do you get to watch a guy pretend to be someone who died on 9/11 but simply does not have the balls to go the whole way so he uses a cable and then repeats this action 30 times.

No wait, none of that is true because that quote does not even make sense in the context of what the artist intended to convey with this piece. From his own words, this was a cathartic way for him to deal with the strong emotions that 9/11 created inside of him. By extension, this was not an act of joy rather it was a way of dealing with inspired pain.

However, this woman did not get the memo on what he was trying to do here. Instead, she and most likely her artsy friends decided that this HAPPENING was a fabulous experience that she needed to be a part of. (her words not mine) Now, I was not in New York City on 9/11 but I know people that were and pretty much the overwhelming tone that I get from these individuals is that in NO WAY, SHAPE, or FORM was this any type of event that anyone wanted to be a part of nor was it fabulous. I am also fairly certain that none of those words were ever used by any onlooker who watched men and women leaping from the Twin Towers to their deaths.

Granted, what happened in Chicago was a performance piece, and it is possible that this woman is a fan of the artist. Clearly, this is the rational explanation for her quote, but even still, why would you say something so idiotic. I mean even if she is a fan of the artist, I am sure there was a better way to articulate what she was feeling at that moment instead of sounding like a drunk socialite who has nothing better to do than spend weekends at the club and weekdays attending these types of events that she needs to be a part of...

Actually that is probably exactly who this person is... and now, she is on the list.

How Much You Bench Biznatch

So I joined a gym, Maxim Gym in Williamsburg, to be precise. And I am not quite sure how I feel about it. From my previous blog on running, I hope that I made it clear that I really enjoy being outside, facing the elements, and exploring this City by foot. I have always hated gyms because I hate what I view as the gym culture, which mainly involves giant dudes who spend their days at the gym and are on workout number 6 for the day when I walk my out of shape ass in around 9 PM. Most of all, however, I hate lifting weights and using machines where you never go anywhere...

But I had to do it, I had to go to the proverbial dark side because in the last week, Brooklyn and the rest of New York has been hotter than some country in Western Africa as we have apparently decided that this year we will skip Spring and head right into the season known as Hell. I think back in the old days, this season was called Summer, but I still have to do some research on that issue. By the way, this rapid increase in temperature should serve as lesson to each of us to shut our fucken mouths and not complain as we all did a couple of weeks ago when it looked like summer would never come and it was cold. Sometimes, you get what you asked for and sometimes, Mother Nature straps it on and fucks you doggy style with no lube as she has decided to do in the last week. Live and learn people, live and learn.

But I digress.

As a result of this heat, I can run outside only at night or in the early morning around 5 AM. Running in the AM, however, is not an option because I wake up at 8 so there is no chance in that happening. Even with the night runs, I can only do this three times a week since my legs have decided that since I forced them to run that marathon in April that they are rebelling and remind me of this fact by having me endure some form of pain with every step.

And so tonight, I went to the gym for the first time in over a year and some months. And what I realized is that Williamsburg hipsters have one redeeming factor, they totally erase the potential for any form of gym culture neutralizing any of the problems that I discussed above. I mean sure there were a couple of dudes who had arms the size of my quad, and yes, when they thought I was staring at them, they appeared to snarl and lick their lips as if I was a juicy steak or atleast that evening's syringe. (Note: I stare not because I love, but mainly for self-preservation mentally calculating the amount of time to the exit and their potential pounce time). The majority of the gym goers, however, were normal run of the mill hipsters, who though covered with tatoos and piercings, wearing vintage t-shirts, and rocking the latest dirty haircut, just wanted to get their workouts in and be done with it. There were no egos, no pose downs, and limited testosterone. While this almost made me reconsider my entire opinion of hipsters (but not quite), it definitely made me realize that I will be back to my gym in the near future as I work to lose my own neck and bench more than you!!!

Repossessing My Own Anger

So clearly last week and the week before, some shit in my life went down. I will not get into the details since I respect and care for the other individual involved, but the brass tax of it is that I do not know what I want in life and thus consistently find a new way to destroy all that is actually good in my world. I have succeeded once again. I know that I will live to regret this and hopefully one day I will make it all good again.

This change of life of course has led me to reconsider all that I know in life and to re-assess how my own life is going. And to be quite frank, I don't like it. If you have read closely throughout these months each of the entries have consistently demonstrated another part of my life that I view as an imperfection. I am a hyper critical guy about my life and the way it is going even if I may doing just great in so many other people's eyes.

To me, I want to be something better than I am. I want to be an individual that never wakes with a hangover. I want to be the type of person that gets up on a Saturday and has run five miles before noon so that I have the rest of the day to take care of whatever is important in my life and still make time for a great dinner that evening. I want to not lose minutes and days due to boredom or laziness.

And you know what this is type of life is what I have wanted for years and every once and awhile and more and more recently on a weekly basis, I find myself lamenting my life choices and wanting to be something else. I want to change but then I never do.

And I guess, I wonder how, HOW do we make these seemingly easy and expansive life changes which are achievable and yet we do not want to put forth the effort to make them work. How is it easier for me to break someone's heart and yet still spend the weekend self-destructing?

I guess that is what I am struggling with right now... And if the answer calls you, let me know.

Then there was one

I don't want to post... I don't want to eat... I don't want to hurt anymore... I don't want to feel like I am six inches tall... I don't want to feel this empty feeling in the pit of my stomach... and i don't want to cry anymore...

I went to Tennessee... I had a great time... I came back.. and I fucked everything up... and now I am alone... as I was months ago... alone... as I will probably be until I am as old as my parents... alone...

Back to the days of being 27 year old son of bitch with a drinking problem... Great.

I wish there was more to say but I do not have the strength to write much more...