I'd like to acknowledge in the first sentence that even thinking about writing a blog is as close to the gay/metro realm as I'd like to venture. The fact that I actually started one has me checking my undies to make sure everything is still in place and still beautiful. Well, it's equal parts there and beautiful. So all is right in the world. Holla.
Anyways, I fancy myself the creative type and have realized fairly recently that sitting in a cubicle for 9 hours a day doesn't really tickle my creative pickle. So that's what brings me here. I have no idea how frequently I'll be updating the site. Like most things I try to add to my life, like getting the gym or drinking fewer than 15 alcoholic beverages per week, this will probably be a fad that lasts through this post and then one more rant about how much Mitt Romney kicks ass two days from now. I encourage feedback. So if either of you reading this blog want to leave a comment, please feel free to do so.
I'll try to limit profanity as much as possible. Cock. Balls. But most of you know I have a bit of a potty mouth at times. And don't be fooled by this post, I'm way too fucking lazy to capitalize letters in all future posts. So grammar nazi's save your energy.
Likely topics for posts will be random tidbits from the day, my take on relationships or politics, and any random funny shit that happens to me or has happened to me in the past. I'll try to limit the politics talk because overall it's pretty fucking boring and Rush and O'Reilly cover that shit almost as well as I could. Plus, I really don't care what you think unless you think like me. So you don't really care what I think. If any of my friends are included in my stories, I'll use fictious names or won't use names at all to maintain anonymity. Hopefully I won't hurt anybody's feelings, but when this shit takes off like the Rocketeer there's going to be some anonymous peeps who know I'm talking about them. Knowimsayin?
For entertainment value, I'll be a little more mean-spirited than I am in person. But enough disclaimers.
I'm a little nervous about putting myself this out there in case I ever go after a job with the FBI. And I'm only half-kidding. I'm considering that. I can see how the interview would go:
Mr. (MyLastName), thanks for coming in today. Before we get started I just wanted to let you know the status of your background check. Everything came back fine but there was that blog you had back in '09. Nobody ever read it so it shouldn't be an issue, but at one point you wrote quote, "Cock. Balls." without any apparent reason. Do you mind explaining that?
To polish off the first blog I'll tell the story that many of you have already heard in person. We'll call it The Hammerhead. However there's an update to this that most of you haven't heard.
The Setting: Baker Street Sugar Land
The Characters: Me and my co-worker friend Matt, Hammerhead, random bartenders
The Plot: Me and Matt meet up for drinks after work for a tad late happy hour. I think it's a Thursday night. Fast forward to today, and I haven't seen Matt in about 2 years and I only knew him for about 8 months, but he's easily one of the 10 funniest people I've ever met. We're a couple of drinks into the night when Hammerhead makes eye contact with me and makes a B-line straight at me. She's about 5'10", maybe 180 or so. Pretty big girl but certainly not morbidly obese. But her eyes are a good solid 4 inches apart, Hammerhead shark-style. She's got fiery red hair and looks like she knows how to p-a-r-t-y. And of course that's not a good thing. She's obviously a few drinks further along than Matt and I, because she grabs my arm and murmers something to me like "oh my god you're so hot."
Now despite my rugged good looks, this sort of thing doesn't happen to me frequently, so I don't know exactly what to say to Hammerhead. I try to brush her aside gently-yet-decisively by giving her a "Haha, gee thanks. That's nice. Well, we're going over there."
Hammerhead isn't having any of it. She comes after me like she has scurvy and my cock is a packet of Emergen-C. Matt's wingman efforts are worthy of a Purple Heart this night as he tries to shake her off with every manuever in the book. We try the we're gay route, we have girlfriends route, we're not interested route, the get the fuck away route. But there is blood in the water and Hammerhead is onto the scent.
I finally get her to leave us alone by saying politely "Hey me and my buddy haven't seen each other for a while so we're just trying to catch up. I'll come by and we can talk at the end of the night." She takes the bait and does her thing for the next couple of hours.
The lights came on for last call a couple of hours later. By this time me and Matt are totally shitfaced and have all but forgotten about Hammerhead until she makes one last hurrah. She walks over to us and says "Can I ask you guys something..."
And before she could finish Matt interrupts with the meanest thing I've ever heard someone say to someone's face...
Yeah, you're fucking UGLY.
Immediately after saying it, Matt is crouched over the bar laughing so hysterically he's got tears in his eyes. Well, this is terrible and Hammerhead looks ready for a fight at this point so I try to salvage things by saying,
I don't think you're ugly at a...
Then SPLASH! Her 3/4 full Jack and Coke is all over me. It drenches my shirt. It's splattered all across my glasses. It's all up in my hair and inside my ear like I just got shot with a Super Soaker a-la 1994. And I'm laughing so hard a couple of drops of pee escape.
Not only has this never happened to me, I've never seen it happen to anyone at any bar I've ever been to. And that's a shit-ton of bars. I mean this shit is straight out of a shitty RomCom starring Meg Ryan. Meg Ryan wouldn't be the one throwing the drink of course. She'd see it happen at a bar and write about it in her advice column for some Cosmo-style mag. And we'd hear her take on the story via voice over.
Hammerhead swims off and I look over at the bartenders who are laughing like it's the funniest shit they've ever seen. Two years later I can't go to the bar without one of them asking where my girlfriend is. Who, Hammerhead? That ain't my bitch knowimsayin.
Adding to the Saga, this New Year's Eve I go to a random bar in the Heights to watch my girlfriend's gig and who's serving me my drinks? Lo and behold, it's Hammerhead. What an odd twist of fate. After several rounds I run into her on the way to the bathroom and I say rather non-chalantly to avoid vag cheese in my beer, "You know, you threw a drink on me once. That was fucked up."
She proceeded hug me, kiss my cheek and apologize.
I'll always wash that cheek again.