My hatred for blogs, and the shoe story
Let's be clear about one thing before we get right down to it. Blogs are gay. i think the idea that these online message boards are the future of information sharing is a bunch of hogwash and i hope i'm dead before they completely take over. But, and i'm all about my "but's," i'm bored and mildly pissed off because i bought and broke a skateboard in a single day, eventhough i pretty much suck at the sport and little junior high school kids run circles around me at the commons. To top it all off, i have to work the backshift at the hospital all week (if you seriously believed the millionaire bit, you've been reading too far. stop now), and that is seriously going to cut into my most highly coveted drinking habits. And since yelling at people has never got me anywhere, i need a place to vent. And alas, here we are.
But of course, i doubt a single soul will read this little rant, yet i'm still compelled to push on. Contrary to popular belief, i've never really held with any degree of esteem what others think about the products of my brain. i'm social only when alhohal is involved; otherwise, i'm pretty damn hard to get along with. and i'm not the sharpest crayon in the box, either.
Let me take you a few steps into the shallow recesses of my mind. one day last weekend, i was an hour late for work. i ran out of my apartment without smokes or money, equipped only with a brutal hangover. Luckily, i work about three blocks from my building, so i came back on my first break and decided to hold the elevator with my shoe. Now, i've done this before because i routinely lose things (or at least i think i do, especially when they're in my jacket pocket, or my hand), and the elevator takes for-fucking-ever. So there I was, racing through my apartment looking for lose change and bills to purchase coffee and cigarettes, only to return to a set of three elevator doors - all closed. And, of course, the next elevator that comes isn't the one holding my lonesome shoe. Begrudgingly, i put on my new kicks and was off. But i haven't seen the lost shoe since.
It gets worse, but i have "some" pride.
In other news, i got booted out of Tribecca the other night because i gave the doorman, an old highschool friend, a "hard time" for not letting me in for free. i simply raised my hands up in a questioning jesture when he said i had to pay, to which he replied by saying, 'pay the fucking lady.' Now, i used to smoke mad gange with this dude when highschool classes were in session, and we've met up to shoot the shit many times since. The fact that he made me pay the measly $5-cover really didn't bother me, since he let me, and friends of mine he didn't know, many times before. What fucking got me was that he was so damn rude about it.
The bar was packed to the tits, and dancing combined with shots made me gasp for air. So out i went to smoke a fag and try to talk some sense into my old highschool friend. But he wasn't havin it whatsoever. I can understand that one can grow weary of handing out freebees, but did he really need to start snapping his figures all over the place and yelling weird shit like, 'i know you could probably kick my ass, Reid, but i don't give a shit"??? First of all, i'm five-foot-nothing and my arms are a little bigger than twigs. Second, I was trying to talk some sense into the dude, not start a fight. Blargh.
Anyway, now that that's out, i think i will be as well.
But of course, i doubt a single soul will read this little rant, yet i'm still compelled to push on. Contrary to popular belief, i've never really held with any degree of esteem what others think about the products of my brain. i'm social only when alhohal is involved; otherwise, i'm pretty damn hard to get along with. and i'm not the sharpest crayon in the box, either.
Let me take you a few steps into the shallow recesses of my mind. one day last weekend, i was an hour late for work. i ran out of my apartment without smokes or money, equipped only with a brutal hangover. Luckily, i work about three blocks from my building, so i came back on my first break and decided to hold the elevator with my shoe. Now, i've done this before because i routinely lose things (or at least i think i do, especially when they're in my jacket pocket, or my hand), and the elevator takes for-fucking-ever. So there I was, racing through my apartment looking for lose change and bills to purchase coffee and cigarettes, only to return to a set of three elevator doors - all closed. And, of course, the next elevator that comes isn't the one holding my lonesome shoe. Begrudgingly, i put on my new kicks and was off. But i haven't seen the lost shoe since.
It gets worse, but i have "some" pride.
In other news, i got booted out of Tribecca the other night because i gave the doorman, an old highschool friend, a "hard time" for not letting me in for free. i simply raised my hands up in a questioning jesture when he said i had to pay, to which he replied by saying, 'pay the fucking lady.' Now, i used to smoke mad gange with this dude when highschool classes were in session, and we've met up to shoot the shit many times since. The fact that he made me pay the measly $5-cover really didn't bother me, since he let me, and friends of mine he didn't know, many times before. What fucking got me was that he was so damn rude about it.
The bar was packed to the tits, and dancing combined with shots made me gasp for air. So out i went to smoke a fag and try to talk some sense into my old highschool friend. But he wasn't havin it whatsoever. I can understand that one can grow weary of handing out freebees, but did he really need to start snapping his figures all over the place and yelling weird shit like, 'i know you could probably kick my ass, Reid, but i don't give a shit"??? First of all, i'm five-foot-nothing and my arms are a little bigger than twigs. Second, I was trying to talk some sense into the dude, not start a fight. Blargh.
Anyway, now that that's out, i think i will be as well.
posted by Southwick | 6:26 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home