So do you hate me yet?

That's the question that was asked of me on Friday afternoon, after my phone rang and I stared at it for what seemed like a light year. Why? When certain phone numbers don't come up as phone calls but mostly as a text message, you tend to think something bad is about to happen. Sorry, but with where I am in my life, that's how that whole thing works.
It's always good to talk to certain folks, and I'm certain anyone that reads this stuff on a regular basis hasn't had me rush them off the phone. But the rest of the people that call me? C'mon now. Let's be real here. I really don't have the energy to put on a smiling face (shadup, I have one!) and tell them that I'm doing fine. While I do laugh a lot at how things have unfolded in the past few months, there are moments that flat out ka-rush me. I just try to do my best not to show them. Why? Because no one can fix what is broken. You just have to learn to deal with certain things, whether you like them or not. Please, tell me I'm wrong. I'll even listen with an open mind and an open heart.

I'll get back to my conversation on Friday, after I give you some other news...

I received a lovely little post card from a company telling me thanks, but no. Hey, maybe that takes more thought than a form email. I doubt it, since it was a form post card, but still. It's the thought (?) that counts.

I have the potential to get a writing internship for a sports website. Keep your fingers crossed that I can read, comprehend, and follow the directions. So far, 2/3 of the assignment is done. Once it is completed and posted, I'll direct you there, believe me. Along with that came the revelation from a friend on Friday night that I should probably stop watching and following sports. Uh, do ya think they know me at all?? If I could get a job writing I'd be more than fine. I'd like to think I know a bit about sports, even hockey and college football. The position is for a paying internship, I'm more than fine with it.

I still have folks looking out for me. And for that, I am grateful. Others can piss and moan that nothing is happening for them, but I am and will be forever thankful that my peoples look out for me. I woke up one morning last week to 3 different people saying they may have something for me. To me, that means I must have done something right. Now, as much as I appreciate all this help, I firmly don't think one of these things is going to pan out. Why? Well, it's been over a year, and I think I've earned the right to be a little more than skeptical. How would you take it?

One of the things I have had a bunch of time to think about, a lot, is to ask you, dear readers, of how honest you would like me to be? I know, it's probably swirling around your head right now-"He's held back? Oh dear Lord!" Relax, my head isn't going to split open and have mini-Bill Maher, mini-George Carlin, mini-Bogart amongst others just brawling out on my laptop. (FYI, not Bill Maher in the liberal sense-far from it-but in the sense to piss people off). It's just something to think about, and feel free to get back to me.

My weekend was tame, relatively. Friday I had some laughs, but also had an acquaintance from high school try to hang out with my 'regular' Friday night crew. It did not go well. You might recall a few weeks ago I stated I blew my stack at someone. That would be the high school acquaintance. I had been dodging him for well over a week, mostly because I'm not in the mood to deal with drunks who somehow think because they have 'street smarts' that somehow disqualifies honest to goodness reading of a few books. Add to that the lovely joy of the circular argument (why anyone would try to reason with a drunk person is far beyond my cognitive abilities), and you can understand, maybe, of why I've been ducking this guy. Well, lucky me, he was at the normal hangout spot. And he joined my Friday night gang, an older group of guys. I'm the youngest by 4 years, and this group can go up to 53. They're all good guys, old school types. We mesh well. It's usually nothing but a ball-bustin' session all night long, with a little bit of business thrown in. Sorry, I have no desire to go clubbin', not that I did when I was 21, either. Wouldn't you know it, but the acquaintance invited himself to hang out with my motley crew, and proceeded to attempt to be combative on every level. Ever been at a table and looked at someone and thought, "Dude shut up, you're coming off as stupid"? That is my Friday night in a nutshell, until the acquaintance was politely called an asshole by two people (shockingly, not me) and then 2 hours later figured out he should go. Now, we weren't friends in high school. We knew each other, ended up at some parties together, but we weren't buddies and didn't run around together. Any suggestions to avoid this crap again would be appreciated, other than my normal way, which involves swearing, a comment about reading more than the Sunday funnies, and the always pleasant sign-off of 'Go Fuck Yourself'. I'm trying here.

Saturday was spent helping set up for a buddy's surprise birthday party. Let's find someone else who can get to a liquor store, buy booze and then go to a grocery store and pick up various items and be back, on a Saturday, in 25 minutes. G'head, I dare you. The other really funny part of Saturday was the fact that I developed a shadow that wouldn't shut up. The shadow was in the form of a 16 yr old guy who looked 30. Seriously, in worse physical shape than me. When I was 16, I was mean and relatively lean, at least before blowing my knee out. Not this kid. I got to learn about some ignorance (ah, racism what a lovely crutch to the dumb you truly are) and high school 'relations', which I'm still trying to scrub out of my head with steel wool. And of course I got to see a picture of the girlfriend. It is true, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. In a word, Yikes! In another couple of words, "honey it's called the sun, go out in it, you're lacking Vitamin D....zombie!" The real joy was once the party started, this damn kid wouldn't leave my side. I moved, bam, there he was. In the words of Pops, go light somewhere. Fantastic, just what my life needs, an audience of a 16 yr old who thinks I'm 'cool'. Yeah, 34, unemployed and I live with HotDog Neck and the stankiest dog known to mankind. Outstanding, I'm someone to emulate. Talk about low expectations in this kid's life. I'm not down on myself, but I'm trying to be realistic. If I'm your idea of cool, get a new idea. I'm only myself, I ain't that special. Other than my Mom thinking I'm cute, I am not exactly setting the world on fire here. Eventually he had to leave (whew) and I got to hang out with the birthday boy and his family. He's done really well for himself, and I hope he's happy with how his life is turning out, because I'm very happy for him.

Sunday was spent doing virtually nothing. Until I got dinner at another friends' house just because he had to pick my brain about football (and I don't want a job BS-ing about sports? Ha!). Hey, you can pay me in grilled chicken, macaroni salad and grilled veggies 6/7 days a week. All I have to do is talk football? Done and done. Any damn day of the week. Oh, and the homemade banana bread with chocolate chips didn't hurt, either.

Now, back to the title of this post. Do I hate her yet? I'll never hate her. I am not particularly fond of how things are, but they are out of my control. And hate is a strong word. Hate is reserved for those that have earned it. How do you hate someone who makes you smile? Makes you shake your head? Can make you confused, happy, goofy, slightly aggravated and stupid all at the same time? It is what it is. And in all honesty, I don't think about it that much. I can't. I have to focus on whatever it is I'm doing, be it writing this blog, thinking of ideas for my script/manuscript, my comedy and if I'll ever get the stones to get back up on stage, or even this God forsaken job search.

And that's about all I have to say for now...


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