Worky worky? Not so much...

So I tried to post an entry using LifeCast, but, well…



…as you can see by the little spinner in the lower right corner of the screenshot, posting has been taking a little longer than normal. 3 hours longer than normal. In fact, the posting is still stuck in LifeCast. I pray for the day that MarsEdit comes to iPhone…because even thought LifeCast is free and all, it leaves a lot to be desired. Such as successfully posting my lame entry. *Sigh*

It's been a long day. I'm going to bed.

I could have driven home faster

Single Rider Tour 2008 — part six in a series

So you may recall that when I ended my last post, I was waiting to board my flight home. My flight was scheduled to originally depart LAX at 6:00 p.m. but Air Traffic Control up in San Francisco had issued a ground stop, or something like that (I'm not up on all that fancy-schmancy flying lingo). Well they ended up getting us on the plane by about 6:45 p.m. and within minutes of sealing the door and pulling away from the gate we were informed that SFO was re-issuing the halt for all inbound flights. How long were we going to have to wait? SFO wasn't saying.

There we sat, on the tarmac, watching our satellite TV (when it was working), and waiting for the green light to get home. I should mention that this was my first time flying Virgin America and I just so happened to be one of the first people to be seated in their brand new "Main Cabin Select" class of seats. How was it? I'll post a review of it in a few days. But overall I really have to say that Virgin America has the nicest planes; they don't smell like stale coffee and vomit yet.

Around 8:30 the captain gets on the PA system to let us know that SFO isn't giving them a clear answer as to whether or not the ground halt has been lifted, but even if it is, there are a bunch of other flights that waiting to land so they have plenty of other flights that are due in before we can even think of taking off. The waiting continues. While many other travelers are starting to freak out about the delay, I remain calm. It makes no sense in a situation like that to get all worked up. ATC doesn't feel it's safe for planes to land, and I appreciate that decision because I know they're doing it to keep me alive.

An hour later we finally get confirmation that we are cleared for departure and being taxiing to the runway for takeoff. And then, in a twisted moment of deja-vu we get word that we're being ask to hold. Again. At this point, even I'm getting restless. And I'm getting worried that my car, parked at the San Bruno BART station might be towed as my long term parking permit will expire at midnight.

We finally take to the sky around 10:30. We land smoothly about an hour later. By midnight I've claimed my luggage and wearily head to the SFO AirTrain to take me to the transfer station to catch the BART train back to my car. I arrive at the station to find that the BART station gates are closed and the station is closed. Crap. I'm totally confused as the BART website indicated that the train I needed would be running into the early morning. My only option is to take a taxi to my car. But getting back to the terminal would prove to me trickier as the AirTrain that would normally do that was taken offline for the night and the SFO facilities people gave me bad instructions on how to get back to the terminal. An hour after I've landed and I'm still no closer to getting to my car than when I first landed.

A $20 cab ride later I'm finally at my car. It's 1:30 a.m. and I've still got an hour long drive home ahead of me. And laundry after that. But, I'm alive. Though I'm not sure I'll be mentally alive at work in a couple of hours.

Is America F'd? If you're a graphic designer, you already know the answer.

A word of warning for those with virgin ears (and eyes). This post (both text and the embedded video) has the word fuck in it. Don't worry, it's completely justified.


America Is F*cked.......(Graphically at least) from Jess Gibson on Vimeo.

Basically this is labeled an opinion piece, but seriously, when the opinion is so categorically true, it's really a fact. A sad fact of how much some people are willing to pay for crap design, and that it devalues and discredits designers that really do deserve the big bucks. Are we as American's becoming ambivalent to Wal-mart quality design? Yes. Do we care? Apparently not, because as long as we pay top dollar for it, we must be getting our money's worth, right? I won't even answer that because the reality is far too depressing.

If you'll excuse, I'm going to go stab myself with Illustrator's knife tool until the Pantone 1795C bleeds into the gutter.

[via CreativeBits.org]

Scam artists…Fear my gay wrath!

This is Part 2 of my "I'm so in a gay rage right now!" post. If you haven't read the original post where this story began, you probably should read it now or the rest of this won't make a whole lotta sense to ya.

Yes I had no idea how deep my sweet li'l mom had gotten herself into this scam. But as we kept talking, I quickly learned it was even worse than I had imagined. Turns out the site link she had given me was her second online store, her first is what you can see below.



Mind you, it's tons prettier and more professional looking than the first site she had directed me to but it's still nothing but page after page of banner ads that was marketed to my mom as an online storefront. At this point I was speechless. Not only was one group of scammers after my mom, but there's a second set as well. (Just tonight I learned that the prettier site above cost her $7000. Good thing I had just parked my car or I would have driven off the damn road in shock.) Depending on the website being designed, it's not unrealistic to pay about $100/hour for quality work. Looking at the two sites my mom paid for, I simply can't see anywhere close to her getting her money's worth. As a designer myself, seeing this happen makes me physically ill.

My gay rage had mutated into a gay wrath. These assholes are going to pay. I told my mom — now quite overcome with regret and embarrassment upon realizing that she'd been scammed — to calm down and that I was going to look into this other company and then get back to her. Turns out this other company had actually contacted her first and set up the site, and then the she was contact by a second company who convinced her that the first company was run by untrustworthy people and convinced her she'd do better with them, which is how she ended up with that ugly-ass site from the first part of the story. Well I used my interweb research skills to be dead-ended because the first company used a proxy registrar to set up their own company's domain, and tracing them would be very difficult. At this point it was suggested that in addition to contacting her bank and the credit agencies, that she also contact the attorney general for advice on how to get all of her money back. I called her back and she with a crushed spirit said hello. I had her write down her "tasks" and tried to give her a bit of a pep talk as I was rushing into a meeting. She said she'd do what she could and to call back over the weekend when we'd have more time to talk.

During the meeting my mind kept drifting to my mom's predicament. I honestly considered at one point the scenario of hopping on the next flight to where these company's were doing business from (conveniently in the same metropolis) and confronting them in person. Then I remembered that I'm one of the least intimidating people on the planet so I put that in my back pocket as a "plan b."

Over the weekend I did a little more sleuthing to see if anyone else had fallen for this same scam. I've never heard of it before so for all I know it's something that's just starting. I wouldn't be surprised if they're trying to target seniors because of their lack of actual knowledge of how things work on the internet. My theory is that these scammers would want to do as little work as possible so they'd probably cut corners and just use a template for all of their victims websites. While I couldn't find a similar site to my mom's ugly site, I did find one that was nearly identical to the pretty site. Take a look for yourself.



I don't know if I should be thrilled or worried that I could think like a scammer in my sleuthing. I'll sleep better if I reason that it was just a solid use of logic and psychology. Anyway, I called my mom back tonight to get an update on how she'd come on her tasks, and give her the newest information I had found. She kept beating herself up for letting herself be scammed. I told her she shouldn't blame herself, and that what's done is done and now we need to focus on fixing it. She 's ready to tell them to keep whatever money they've spent and just give the rest back. I told her that's not an option, she needs to have all $12,600 returned but it could be a lengthy battle for it to happen. If the attorney general is a dead end (as I suspect they might be) I told her we need to go to the media, local and then national, and get them involved on bringing attention to this new type of scam…like 60 Minutes or Dateline. Yes I know it's sensationalistic journalism at best, but hell, if it might help my mom get her retirement fund back, and prevent other's parents from getting conned, then it'll be worth it.

Tomorrow morning she's going to call the attorney general for advice. We'll figure out the next steps after that. Something tells me this ain't close to being over anytime soon. And I've still got "plan b" in my back pocket. Stay tuned…

I am so in a gay rage right now!

First things first. How much would you pay someone to design an online store where you can sell name brand merchandise, never have to ship or receive anything yourself, never have to handle billing or purchasing, but basically just sit back and watch the "unlimited income" flooding in?

Hmmm… You seem skeptical.

Now, what if I told your website would be professionally designed to look like this, using the latest in design technology:



Interesting! You seem more skeptical than before. Let's continue.

And finally, what if the person cold-called you some random weeknight offering you all this for a "small" one-time investment. On your credit card. And he needs your 3-digit security code from the back of your card to process the payment. Oh, and your social security number for the W9 form. And just a few other personal bits of information to verify your identity.

If you're not yelling, "It's a scam! He's trying to steal your money and identity! Hang up…HANG UP!!!" at your computer display, you're probably my dear, sweet, innocent, naive mother.

Bless my mom's heart, she thought she was making a sound business decision to aide in her retirement years. But she's barely only been online for two years now — and only email at that — so how was she to know scams like this exist or that she could be taken to the cleaners. She only watches Christian satellite broadcasts, so she's not seen the countless Dateline and 20/20 and nightly news stories about identity theft and internet scams out there. Plus, looking back over my whole life, she's always been trying out the "get rich quick" and "earn unlimited income without lifting a finger" schemes that have come along over the years. She's an enteral optimist, where as I, having watched all this happen over the years, am very much not an optimist.

It wasn't until Tuesday night that I learned about my mom's new venture. I was driving when she told me so I couldn't exactly look at it right then or the rest of the conversation would have been decidedly different. And by the time I got home after 11 non-stop hours at the office, all I could do was nuke up some corn dogs and fall asleep while eating them. After years of watching her get rich quick efforts come and go with little collateral damage, I wasn't as worried as I should have been. It wasn't until Wednesday night that I remembered what we'd talked about an I logged on to check out her business venture. The moment the page started loading banner ad upon banner ad my heart sank and I wanted to vomit. Someone had suckered her into thinking pages of banner ads was an "online storefront" and she didn't know any different; she's never bought anything online before. Heck, I don't think she's even googled once!

Adding insult to injury, not only was she scammed into thinking she was joining the exciting world of online shopping and about to make an endless amount of money, but the website looks like shit! Professionally designed my ass, the little link in the bottom of the page pointing back to an online website creating tool proves that it couldn't have been. I've seen better design MySpace pages, and that's saying something. Adding to the nausea was a growing sense of panic and anger…I was feeling the onset of a gay rage. I spent the next 4 hours into the early morning researching as much about the perpetrators of the scam as possible and figuring out how to tell my mom without her thinking I was just dumping on her good idea or making her feel like a fool.

On Friday morning I'd gather as much information as I could and just decided I'd just ask her questions that would lead her to figure out she made a mistake and then help guide her on what to do next for damage control. I had no idea that how bad it really was.

I'm getting all worked up into a rage again so I'll post the rest of this when I've calmed down enough to type without breaking the keyboard and grinding my teeth. Stay tuned…

Guess what I've been doing in the shower!

I'll admit, I didn't come easy at first. But after hearing about it on the radio I just had to give it my best effort. The first couple days were almost painful; it just didn't feel natural or even right. I wanted so badly to tell someone about my experimentation, to see if they've tried it before, but didn't in fear that I might jinx myself and never fulfill my goal. After a couple weeks of careful and conscience effort it started to become enjoyable, and finally just a regular part of my morning routine. What can I say, it feels good! But I still kept it a secret. Actually, I did mention it to Betty midway through my third month, and she was very encouraging but also understanding why I hadn't told anyone. Now, nearly five months later, I'm ready to come clean, so to speak.

I've been successfully practicing the art of the Navy shower! Why? What were you thinking it was? Oh, well now that's just dirty…

I didn't tell anyone sooner because a cookie told me not to, and I'm not one to go against the advice of a fortune wielding dessert. And while I could do a bit better — extra long hours at work has me all tied up in knots and it's taking more mental fortitude not to slip back into the old "Hollywood shower" ways — and conserve even more water, I'm still proud that simply by turning off the water when lathering up or brushing my teeth (yes, I'm one of those people, but I multitask by conditioning my sexy mullet at the same time) or shaving has saved over 1500 gallons of water in the past 60 days, an average of a little over 25 gallons a day! Unfortunately my water company charges a hefty flat service rate with a tiny metered fee on top of that so even though I cut back 33% on my daily water use I'm really only saving a little over $2 each month. But knowing that I've saved that much water already by simply changing a small part of my routine has me wondering how else I could be saving water. Or electricity. Or fuel.

Sure, all the big company's these days are touting about how "green" they've are because it's a buzzword in the media right now. I don't buy it. It's all for show. I bet none of the execs in these "green" companies would ever think to turn off the water while sudsing up. I may not have an MBA from Harvard, or drive a flashy $100,000 car, or make multi-million dollar donations to offset my carbon emissions, but at least I've taken the first step to actually live green in my own life. Well, a little more green. Baby steps, ok?

By the way, I won't even tell you how long it took I spent looking at iStockphoto.com for photos of sailors in showers. But diligence pays off…and I'm all about sharing the wealth, all $2 of it. Enjoy! And when your done, don't forget to take a Navy shower.

Five of a kind…a shitty hand indeed

Angel is a cheater. How do I know? He played a fifth deuce card tonight on the area shag. My gut instinct is to just roll up the carpet and put it in storage until Angel gets shipped to the land down under. What's keeping me from doing just that? The fear that he'll turn his pooper on my very white furniture and I have a sneaking suspicion that concealing skid marks from a kitty — or skitty marks, as only I would actually refer to them as — would be rather difficult if not impossible. Maybe that answers my question about whether or not to get a pet after Angel leaves.

Oh great and wise blogowebospherenet…what's a guy gotta do to correct this recent recurring behavior and keep kitty from krapping on the karpet? I need your help!

He dealt me another deuce.

Apparently my friends are the only ones thinking that my last few posts have been a bit on the overly "deep thoughts" side. And not the funny "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy" kind. Angel, the feline I'm kitty sitting has taken it upon himself to provide me with new "content." Unfortunately this content is in the form of a deuce on my carpet. While I haven't been keeping an official tally of how many deuces this makes—I'm not exactly a card counter from MIT—I'm pretty sure we're at +4. I'm baffled by his fondness of playing the deuce on the shag carpet, as it would seem to be the exact opposite of his litter box, but maybe that in and of itself answers the question. I've been very good about making sure his litter is as clean as a litter box can be checking it before I leave the house in the morning and then immediately upon returning home and once more before going to bed. But tonight baffles me because he had minutes before used his litter box to tinkle in, so why, moments later would he decide that he should dump a massive deuce on the carpet? And why does he seem so damn proud of his action? Needless to say the moniker Angel is once again proving to be anything but. Hopefully we're now out of deuces in the poop deck. You're not going to hear me say shuffle up and deal, that for sure. Here's hoping he'll only be playing high cards from here on out.

Does anyone have any suggestions, short of sewing up his poop shute, on how to reverse this increasing pattern? I'm getting worried that he's going to start pooping elsewhere, like my hard-to-clean furniture.

97…98…99…

I'm either referring to the slooooowly increasing number of posts as I'm on the doorstep of the magical milestone of my 100th post, or it was the rapidly increasing number of shots I was taking last weekend at the Old Mission of San Juan Bautista for Betty's weekly Photo Project. Unfortunately it's not looking promising that I'll be out shooting anything for the most recent "texture" project. Oh well, next week's "household item" project should be a snap…especially since the weather won't be as much a factor.

But getting back to the 100th post, it's coming very soon, most likely on the one year anniversary (another milestone in the blogging world from what I hear) of this site. And with it, a little bit of a surprise for fans of this blog…all 3 of you. Like the writers of Lost, I gave some completely disjointed clues that will all add up to what I'm hoping is a big payoff. Keep in mind a "big payoff" from where I come from is getting an accidental extra taco for free in your number 4 combo meal from Taco Bell. So yeah, as they say in the corporate world, just wanted to "level set expectations." By the way, using corporate speak does not make you sound smart or professional, it makes you sound like a pretentious asshole who is trying to cover up that they don't know what the hell their doing. You're verbal camouflage ain't working, honey, and everyone knows it and talks about it behind your back. Deal with it.

Wait, got a little side tracked…sorry 'bout that. Here's a sampling of the photos from last week's (and, finally, my first) Betty Photo Project. Click on through to Flickr to see all of them and enjoy! Or not. Whatever, I'm going to Taco Bell.

www.flickr.com GKRpix's Week 9 Photo Project for PhotoBetty photoset

Going out with a bang whimper

It's over! NaBloPoMo! 30 days! 30 posts! I was planning a big, elaborate, posting to celebrate sticking it out for a full 30 days, even during the times I had only my iPhone to rely on... on the damned Edge network no less.

But then I read L'il B's post, and fuck if she didn't totally hit the nail on the head. Guess I'd been feeling the same way, but didn't want to admit it.

Now I'm home, watching "Chuck & Buck", feeling like shit (my cold has returned and it's pissed that I tried to dismiss it), eating a piping hot quart of hot and sour soup to soothe my aching throat, typing this final post for November... for NaBloPoMo. I guess I should feel some sense of accomplishment, but really I just feel mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. And after all, I didn't cure cancer, or fix global warming, or even rescue a cat from a tree (for the record there's no such thing as a cat stuck in a tree, they're just trying to get away from annoying people and come down when they get hungry) ... I just textually vomited the contents of my brain once a day for 30 days in a row. No big whoop.

Will I stick with it? Yes, but not every day. Everything in moderation, right? Besides who wants to read the equivalent of the dry heaves?

Well, I'd love to stay up until it's officially not November any more, but I've gotta shit to do in the morning. And posting here isn't on the list. GKR out!

Oh, and kudos to Sara over at Moving Right Along for the kick-ass "mission accomplished" badge.

---

Worst thing about today: Sickies again

Best thing about today: Duh! You read all that drivel at the beginning, right? WTF?! What do you mean "I skimmed it." Lame...

The Nanny Diaries, GKR Edition

Well now I understand why I was invited on this trip; they needed a cheap babysitter. I know I should just be thankful to be on vacation at all, but this hasn't exactly turned out to be the vacation I was hoping for. I'm doing my best to go with the flow, but for fuck sake, my time is not by own which excuse me if I misunderstood, but isn't that the very definition of a vacation?!?

Don't get me wrong, I love my nephew but he's at that age where he demands CONSTANT attention, and frankly he wore my name out long ago. "Uncle Kenny! Kenny! KENNY!!!" Sheesh! Give it a rest, kid. No wonder my sis wanted a break, and thank god I'll never have kids naturally. Parents out there, you are either braver or stupider than I ever gave you credit for in the past. My sis is one of the brave ones, as it takes brains to con me into doing her bidding.

Ok, I can barely read the screen if my iPhone as it is covered with sunscreen as I type this "live" from Hanauma Bay. Sorry, still no wifi so still no photos.

Who needs a concert when you could be working a 15-hour day instead?!

Over the past two days I've worked about 30 hours. While fighting a cold. I've got only 2 days to finish three weeks worth of projects before I have to travel. I'm exhausted. Beyond exhausted. I feel numb. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. Numb. So numb it hurts to my core, and then goes numb again. The only thing I can feel is the shooting pain in my neck that right now is making it impossible to turn my head to the right. While driving home I turned to look over my right shoulder to change lanes and nearly got into an accident when the pain made my eyes go blurry. I'm falling apart.

I'm so disappointed with myself. Tonight marked the second time in the last 6 months that I choose to give up an after work personal social outing (no, not a date) because of work. If I can't find a way to balance work and home, I'm never going to survive another year (let alone another 5) at work. Maybe it's time to explore what else is out there. Who am I kidding, I don't have time to. I think the problem is that I have a hard time saying "no" to assignments. I honestly believe that saying no would kill my career options (yeah, I'm in one of those situations). So I just take on the work, knock it out, nearly kill myself in the process, and rinse and repeat. It's just a fucked up situation. A fucked up cycle. Since I can't expect the other parts of the equation to change, it's up to me to change. Which is pretty much their expectation anyway. How the hell did I make it 5 years? Oh yeah, employee stock plan. I've only got myself to blame.

An upbeat posting? Not tonight...

…I've got a headache. Can you blame me? Carlos decided to lay into me with demands and criticisms and all the while I'm standing there in the living room holding the ingredients of the dinner I was trying to cook after a long day at work. What a self centered self-serving asshole. He wants everything exactly his way and exactly when he wants it. Anything that does not meet those standards will be criticized. Fuck that!!

Wait a second, that raises a good point. I guess I'm partially to blame for his recent behavior after being so generous and supportive with him in the past, But holy shit, the cunt* really comes out when there's no more free         . That vile persona is here way to often. He's not the person I used to know. He's not a person I want to know. Right now, I'm deeply regretting ever attempting to rebuild our friendship.

Remember when I wrote that I wasn't sure if I should spare his feelings or give him honest feedback? Well fuck his feelings (since he doesn't give a crap about mine), right now I don't care how miserable he thinks his life is, I deserve to be treated better than that after all I've been through and done for him. His drug and alcohol use is only making things worse. And I don't need that kind of crap in my life right now.

Sorry no upbeat content tonight. I just got home after getting a couple hours of air (thanks, Ricky) and don't have it in me to post another, um, post.

*Not to be confused with Cuntessa.

The three kitties have turned into one ginormous elephant in the room.

Ok, let's get the mega-sugary syrupy part over and done with, here's the additional pictures of the kitties. God, they were so sweet and we had really bonded. The pictures were taken while I was on my way to the Humane Society. Logic and reason had to prevail if the kitties were to have any real chance of survival. I've been thinking about them all day. And even though I was the only one to have taken care of them—at all—in the brief time they were in our company, both Carlos (who played with them for a few minutes before abandoning them because he wanted to go to his room) and T-Snake (who never ever saw them) had gotten the idea that adopting the kitties was a good idea and done deal. It was while I was cleaning up the copious amounts of shitty kitty crap that the reality of being a pet owner kicked in. Reality is a bitch.

When they came home from dinner T-Snake burst into the house giddy with the (never confirmed) notion that he was going to get a kitten or kittens. For the next 45 minutes there was a lot of back and forth (I'll spare you all the mind numbing and illogical details) and T-Snake was doing everything in his power to manipulate the outcome into his favor of getting a cat. He kept claiming that he's very qualified for taking care of pets, having raised more than any of us. I believe what I see and nothing I've seen him do would indicate he's capable of such a responsibility. I could not in good conscience entrust the tender fragile life of one of these rescued kittens into the care of someone who doesn't even do his share in cleaning his own litter box (aka: bathroom) or bedroom—the same bedroom whose stench still makes be gag when I walk by when the door is open—but was not mentally able at the time to put get that point across without possibly insulting him. OK, I can hear everyone out there saying in unison, "but you fucking own the house, and it's your right to take a stand." And you would be right. To be fair I wouldn't entrust the kitten(s) lives in my own hands right now, either. None of us are realistically able to make that kind of commitment right now. But I digress.

Ultimately I had to play the landlord card and say "no pets" which I thought—as any logical person might—would end the conversation. It did not, and even though Carlos said he respected my judgement and decision, it started to feel like I was being made out to be the bad guy. Hell, I'd rather be the bad guy and do the right thing, than then nice guy by doing the wrong thing. When I tried to—on eggshells, as to not bring out Carlos' close-minded defensive persona that's become such a frequent visitor—address the fact that I had tried stop the "house meeting" before it started and avert the 45 minutes of pointless round-and-round, Carlos started doing what he always faults me for, he began talking over me and interrupting me. And then when I asked if I could finish what I was saying, he cut me off and said "Wait, let me finish." The double standard that has become a growing roadblock in our communication over the past year finally broke me. I snapped. And they were not ready for what I told them next; the new elephant in the room.

And I'll tell you what that elephant is…tomorrow. (I'm such a tease!) As an added bonus, I'll share with you the deleted content that didn't make it into tonight's big reveal. Think of it as a blog post with bonus features!

Has the fat lady sung? No, still not me

I may be festively plump from sitting in a cube 60+ hrs a week, but I certainly ain't no lady.

Ok, a brief update on the past 3 weeks:

T-Snake did NOT get back together with Cuntessa. Hope can be found in the little miracles of life.

I broke things off with Francisco. Without going into too many details, it turns out there is such thing as the Pink Mafia. Who knew?! And while at first I thought it was kinda cool, it got a little more real than I was comfortable with.

The housemates and I have embarked on a Extreme House Cleaning Extravaganza™. Actually, since I never took a cleaning deposit from them, or a security deposit, or any kind of deposit come to think of it, I've asked them to complete a list of cleaning tasks or pay a $250 special assessment to cover said tasks. It's been a bit of an learning experience, mostly for T-Snake who has apparently never had to clean. Anything. Ever. He actually started dusting the banister by hitting it with a pillow. Yes, he had a pillow fight with the banister. The banister won. The boy needs to lay off the bong and start learning the basics of self survival. OMG, and I'll spare you the details of his logic behind what kinds of paper should be put in the recycling bin. Nutshell version: a cantaloup knows better.

.......This just in....... the word "crunk" has just been added to the dictionary, according to the nightly news. Society is hopeless. .......We now return you to your irregularly scheduled rant..........

Last night the housemates and I went out for sushi. Only because it was sushi did I let myself get talked into going though I really just wanted to stay in and make dinner and watch a DVD. The last time we went to this particular sushi restaurant, Carlos and T-Snake got a bit hammered doing pseudo sake bombs and got a little lax about not belching while eating. It was pretty embarrassing and I don't think they fully realized how much attention they were drawing from the other diners. Last night ended not only in a repeat performance, but with Carlos and I getting into an argument because in his drunken state he only hearing what he wanted to hear. I'll spare you the details, but essentially it was a matter of apples to cinder blocks…two completely different topics but he was not listening to what I was actually saying. AARRGGH!!! It's so frustrating talking to talk logically to someone who's been drinking. After I dropped them off at the house, I hit the road and drove around for several hours into the wee hours of the morning. Probably not the best thing to do with the high cost of gas; I used 3/4 of my tank.

This is become an recurring issue between Carlos and myself and I'm completely exhausted by it. Between frequently drinking and smoking pot, I no longer want to be around him, which is quite a contrast to the past 7 years. He's increasingly critical of what I do in my own house, and becomes bitingly defensive when similar actions are noted about him. T-Snake tends to exacerbate the problem by egging Carlos into smoking out with him, and then the self-centered, single-minded thinking intensifies. All those "you're a different person when you smoke pot" PSAs on TV are based in reality no matter how corny they come across. While I've hinted at putting the house up for sale and getting a place of my own here on the blog, I've never told them. And while Carlos might read this, I no longer care. I think the fat lady has indeed sung (and yes, that's the best "fat lady opera singer" photo I could find on iStockphoto!) because I'm so utterly over this situation that I'm finding myself spiraling into a depression because I can't sell this place and find a new place on my own fast enough. Actually, I've already visited a couple great 1br/1ba condos and lofts that I can afford and have been consulting with an RE agent, but the timing is just not right. There's a lot of work that needs to be done on the house to bring it up to market standards and it's a daunting challenging for one person to do it alone. The boys are renting from me for way below the rental market rate (they're only paying 17% of what I pay each month), yet there's this increasing sense of entitlement, that I should be the one buying furniture they want for the house, that I should provide them with cleaning supplies, etc. I'm so fucking tired of it. If I could afford to keep this place by myself I would ask them both to move on. And while an easy option would be to just get new roommates, I don't want the added responsibility of being a landlord, nor do I want the constant worry that keeps me up at night that they might set the house on fire, or in some other way, significantly damage the house. The stress is too much to bear sometimes. It's times like these that I question my decision to stop drinking.

Special thanks to Betty and Becks (I hope I'm being consistent with my aliases here, it's been a looooong time since I've posted) for keeping me as cheery as possible.

Well, that was therapeutic. OK, I'm tired of all this negativity and I need to go to bed as I have to give Betty a lift in the morning.

Gridlocked

Sort and bitter, this post will be just like I like my men.

Though I do, at times, seem to have magical powers at my disposal (though to anyone who is even the least bit tech savvy, it's not magic but basic know-how at work) the one thing I can't do is predict how bad traffic will be any given hour of any given day. I tried to take a correspondence course from Miss Cleo to develop my physic and future-seeing abilities, but it turns out that was all a scam. If I was physic I could have seen that coming. Ah, the classic catch-22 situation.

Cuntessa is officially bat-shit insane

Ok, more time has passed since the incident and I finally feel that I can write about it without it jinxing things.

Thursday, April 19, marked the day that proved to us just how nuts T-Snake's girlfriend truly is. Here's what happened, as told to me via various sources.

T-Snake was standing by for the start of a school event he was participating in. An event that he was totally excited about. Costumes were involved, so who wouldn't be excited? Minutes before the excite was to begin, he gets a call on his cell from Cuntessa. It seems that her car conveniently got a flat tire and she wanted him to come and put the spare tire on. Mind you, Cuntessa is at times more butch that I and even yours truly has changed a flat tire more times that I'd like to remember. Long setup short, he said no. Cheers to him for not being so completely pussy whipped.

Flash forward to the end of the event, where Cuntessa storms up to T-Snake backstage and demands and apology and that they talk about what happened and "things." I'm guessing "things" means their relationship. And by "relationship" I mean an abomination against all that is right and lovely in the world, because that's what it is. </rant> He says something to the effect of "hells no, I don't want to get into this here and now… I'm having a good time (without you)." Obviously this is not going to go over well with someone of Cuntessa's demeanor and she furiously storms off.

Flash forward, again, to the after party at a local pizza joint. T-Snake and his classmates are having a good ol' time socializing and whatnot when Cuntessa bursts through the doors and, still storming, marches up the T-Snake and demands that they talk about the issue immediately, the fun time he's having be damned. He declines and she flys over a table (seriously!!) and punches him square between the eyes. Jaws drop. Blood flows. Silence falls. She leaves. Holy shit, did that just happen?!

T-Snake got off lucky, his glasses absorbed most of the force otherwise he might have a broken nose to explain to friends and acquaintances. Yes, his glasses. She punched him in his glasses. He did nothing to cause that reaction from her. She's is just that fucked up a person.

When I see him the next day, I ask him why he has Band-Aid™ brand bandages on his face (pulling off an Oscar™ worthy performance) pretending not to know. He recounts some of the incident and I, in faux-disbelief, reply that I'm surprised he didn't press charges and have her arrested for assault. He looks at me with those puppy-dog-naive eyes, a smile growing across his unshaven jaw line, and says, "Really? I can?" Ah, to be that simple-minded again. I'm a little worried as to what will become of him when he is out on his own one day. But I have to give him credit that he rationalized that having her arrested might cause her to go even more mental and do something of pure evil to him in retaliation. Or worse… to the house! I'm pretty sure my insurance doesn't cover acts-of-bitch.

When Carlos asked him if this meant they were "finally" broken up, T-Snake sarcastically replied, "What do you think?" Mind you, it's hard to tell what to think as the previous times they've broken up they've been back in each others arms within a week. So, yeah, we simply weren't sure. Now enough times has passed and it's beginning to look like this time the breakup has stuck for good. Carlos and I are thrilled. A celebratory party is in the planning stages. Fuck you, Cuntessa. We're all better off with you out of our lives.

Random Queeriosities - April 23

My apologies for the delay in any sort of posting over the last week. Between work, the new guy, drama with T-Snake and Cuntessa (oh, and it's juicy so you know I'll fill you in later), and a family event back at the folk's trailer park, I've been a tad busy. And since I skipped RQ last weekend, I feel compelled to make up for it tonight. Like Palmolive, I'm been literally soaking in them! Two weeks worth…

Q 1. How the hell am I going to pull off an orange and pink color scheme for GKR 2.0?

Q 2. What do you mean our family name is actually Turkish?

Q 3. Las Vegas weekend or 3-year old nephew's birthday party?

Q 4. How much longer until we have to put dad in a nursing home?

Q 5. How much longer can mom keep taking care of him before it wears her down completely?

Q 6. The new guy is really awesome, but why is he being so elusive about what he does for a living?

Q 7. Should I care?

Q 8. Can I trust him if he can't openly answer what seems to be a simple question?

Q 9. Will T-Snake get back together with Cuntessa after what happened last week?

Q 10. Will Cuntessa really flip-the-fuck-out and do something to fuck with the rest of us?

Q 11. Can anyone recommend a good hitman to take Cuntessa out before she tries to take us out?

Q 12. Since the family name dies with me, would adopting a child to keep the family name alive for at least a few more generations be a horrible thing to do?

Q 13. Why is it so challenging for str8 guys to be friends with gay guys?

Q 14. How accurate is a cookie's fortune when it comes to planning your future?

Grindtownhouse

That's much too cleaver a title for this post. But oh well, I'm wrapping up my Bloody Mary tilt and don't really care.

So I finally laid down "the law" as it were and explained to the housemates that we need to clean up our act. More specifically T-Snake needs to clean up his act, but so that it wouldn't come off as we were ganging up on him, I included all of us. He really didn't seem that excited at the prospect of having to keep the bathroom clean. BIG SURPRISE there, huh? No was he very thrilled to be reminded that, according to the lease, he was responsible for cleaning the carpet in his room once a year. To be honest, I was surprised at the carpet cleaning clause myself, I don't remember adding it, but can't remember if LawDepot.com had it in there by default. Either way, it's a good thing and is long overdue.

To make it as easy for the roomies, and the minimize excuses, I bought all the cleaning supplies they'd need to keep the bathroom "three-star hotel clean." T-Snake was trying to get me to downgrade it to Motel 6 or lower quality, but I held my ground. He tried to convince me that he's lived in far dirtier conditions and didn't mind. Yeah, his bedroom! Str8 boys can be sooo gross. Fortunately, Carlos was in agreement with keeping the bathroom clean which helped to keep T-Snake's moaning to a minimum. I just hope that Carlos doesn't become the sole cleaner of the bathroom.

We'll see how it goes. Anyone want to start a betting pool?

I have yet to tackle the specific issue of T-Snakes funky room. And by funky I mean it smells like mix of hell, death, and weed. I really hope that steam cleaning the carpets will help. I'm not expecting much. Ultimately it's a matter of changing behavior, and that's far more complicated. T-Snake only wants to do thing his way and puts up noise or just plain drops out when things don't go his way. Case in point…

Last night Carlos and I had set up the previous week as the night we would go see Grindhouse, the Rodriquez/Tarantino double-feature homage to exploitation/b-movies, and at the last minute, Carlos wanted me to invite T-Snake. Confused by such an oddly timed request (we had about an hour to get to the theater) I asked and unfortunately T-Snake said yes. But he wanted to go out to a steak dinner first. We just weren't going to have time to go before the movie but planned on hitting up TGI Fridays afterward. We had a video to return on the way, per our original pre-T-Snake plan. T-Snake was adamant that we get food first and return the video later. Logic only exists for T-Snake when it's in his favor. He was pissing and moaning about not going out for steak and a martini (the fucker added a martini to his list of injustices when we were on the freeway) all the way up until the movie started. This morning Carlos and I compared notes and cemented our realizations that T-Snake is completely self-centered and does not stop to think about others whatsoever.

And his behavior is the same around the house. T-Snake doesn't stop to consider how he impacts life here. And he sure as hell doesn't stop to consider how the actions of Cuntessa impact us. Someone that self-centered will be hard to get better behavior from. The entire meeting he just had this look on his face and body language of, "Fuck, don't you realize that you're asking me to participate in cleaning?! You're being a dick by asking me to do stuff I have no desire to do because I'm a coddled OC-raised brat." So having a one-to-one conversation about how he maintains (or doesn't maintain the room he's renting is going to be reeeeeally interesting. It will no doubt become a huge debate and excusefest. And that'll be before I bring up Cuntessa's not being welcome in the house. Then it'll just become ugly.

I can't even begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to not having to deal with roommates anymore. Patience… patience… patience… all in due time.

For those looking expecting Random Queeriosities this week, guess what… I really didn't have many unanswered questions nor queeries from the past week. Shocking, no? There's still some unanswered stuff from past weeks, though, so feel free to look back at the list and see if you can offer some sage advice or stabs in the dark at them. Sorry to disappoint. If you're lucky, I'll have a really fucked up week and you'll have some real gems to ponder with me next week.

What Dr. Sauza told me…

Today was one of those days that you look back on and go, it made my week worth it. And yet at the same time you still end up fighting off the same disappointment, anticipation, regret, truths, deceptions, loneliness, serenity, and disappointment (what? I used that one already? Well it goes double!) that continue to get the better of you. So really, maybe it didn't make it worth while after all…

Being at a crossroad is—and I apologize upfront about the downerness of this post—never easy. And it's a real bitch when you've made that all important decision and get blind sided by a friend in need and your heart tricking you into reconsidering. Back to square fucking one. Looks like this past weeks Queeriosities will be pretty substantial.

Tonight Dr. Sauza told me to listen to my heart. I'm not sure I can do that… pretty sure it's broken.

You know what? I think I'll get a second opinion from Dr. Cuervo. He's a bit more in-your-face and sometimes harsh. But then again, he did show me how to block users on chat so maybe he's not all bad. He made it clear that I need to weed out the fair weather friends who rob me of my self worth and time.

(You know what? I don't think I should write after so much counseling with those intoxicating guys.)

Sometimes I wish certain people didn't know about this blog… that would make certain topics so much easier to talk about!

I know I promised a heavy duty session of going all bitchcakes on my visit to the 'rents last weekend… maybe I'll have gumption to get to it this weekend. After taxes. Sadly, that's how I roll.