Last night, I went to Bridge Lounge for an office party/fund raiser for NO/AIDS. At this party, I had the privelege to meet an absolutley wonderful couple. They are in their seventies and will be celebrating their 50th anniversary in two months. The two of them are absolutley amazing. They are so full of life and still see the world as a place that is at once frightening and yet filled with endless possibility.

The thing about that truly amazes and touches me is the fact that they lost both of their sons to HIV/AIDS. In the two hours that we talked, they recounted how difficult that period in their life was. They went on to explain to me how NO/AIDS is actually one of the things that helped them get through that period. And it wasn't the actual support they received from the agency, but rather the people they met and how they found themselves part of a wonderful community of caring people who were out to make a difference.

To say the least, I was blown away. I don't think I had totally realized the full impact of the work that I am doing. It made me feel so good to know that the work I do can be so powerful.

 
Let's just say that decadence was at once both enjoyable and irritating and leave it at that.

Of course, after my extended weekend of debauchery, I am now instantly thrown hurled back into work. There's only two weeks left until the NO/AIDS walk, so I will probably suffer a breakdown sometime before that. Or at least pull out the majority of my hair. See you in two weeks.

 
I just love the fact that while the Archdiocese of New Orleans and a certain Reverend seems to be hellbent on putting an end to Decadence, there is a letter from the mayor in Ambush welcoming everyone to the city.

 
Believe it or not, I am still alive. I'm just overworked (self-imposed) and going a bit crazy. And to top things off, the car died. It was going to happen sooner or later so now I guess was as good of a time as any. Of course, now I have to buy an new car with money I don't have.

Needless to say, this blogging "hiatus" will probably last a bit longer.

 
What I Learned On My Summer Vacation

1. Farm raised and corn fed makes for some very hot boys.

2. There is an Osama bin Laden condom. (Why it exists, I can't explain.)

3. There is actually a musical genre combining christian music and barbarshop quartets.

4. This musical genre seems to be quite popular on Northern Alabama radio.

5. When advertising a large flea market with many shops, it is wiser to pluralize the word market than the word flea.

 
Last night I got to experience a little of Columbus gay nightlife. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. We went to Wall Street, which seemed to be the place to be last night. All I can say, is that they raise em right up here. Them farm boys is hot.

In other news, I tried to go to the Wexner, but unfortunately, it was closed for remodeling. So instead, I went to the Urban Outfitters across the street and took advantage of their current sale.

Not much else exciting has happened. I've seen so many apartments, I could scream. And the agents who show them to us just keep getting worse and worse. One girl actually said, upon us telling her our zip code was 70001, "Now that's a zip code! How'd you get such a great zip code?" It was an example of when perkiness goes bad.

 
After 15 straight hours in a car (and a brief monsoon in Kentucky), I am alive and well in Columbus, Ohio. Tomorrow brings apartment hunting with a friend (for her, not me) and hopefullya trip to the Wexner Center. Other than that, I am just looking forward to the fact that I am off of work for five days. It's a much needed break.

 
In all of an hour, I embark on my journey to Columbus, Ohio. Wish me luck. I'm sure I'll need it

 
Much of the previous 72 hours has been an expeience that I don't feel comfortable blogging about.

However, I came to discover that karmic retribution can be a good thing. Yesterday I was offered a position, albeit temporary, with the NO/AIDS Task Force doing member coordination for the upcoming NO/AIDS Walk.

And by the way, Thursday is Dining For Life. You go out to eat, and it helps raise money. What could be easier?

 
I just found something interesting on Michelle's site and it irritated me so much that I thought I would go on my rant over here rather than take up space in her comments. Apparently, MTV has decided to ban the new Foo Fighters video Low. Their claim is that there are two scenes which are "too risque." Apparently, Dave Grohl and Jack Black dress up in women's clothes in one scene, and lay on the floor and tangle their legs together in another, implying sex. And there is also spanking.

I'm rather lost on why they would ban this video. The issue of dressing up in drag, or scantily clad, for that matter, seems pointless. Foo Fighters have already done this before in their Learn to Fly video. Also, we see a man dressing in drag in Christina Aguilera's video Beautiful. Not to mention that they repeatedly have had members of Real World and Road Rules often perform this as a challenge, or as part of their jobs. In fact, when MTV came to New Orleans for Mardi Gras one year, they had a contest where they selected one guy and one girl to dress in drag. As for the spanking issue, Madonna did it years ago (like 1992) in her video Erotic where she spanks the writhing bodies with a riding crop. And please don't get me started on something on MTV being to risque. There's Britney in her infamous stripper outfit at the VMA's, Christina in a thong in Dirty, numerous videos which do nothing but glorify the ass, and how many times have we seen the folks on Real World and Road Rules getting naked and hooking up. Some how seven hot twenty-somethings naked, drunk, and writhing in a hot tub (somehow this seems to be in every apartment, wonder why?), is not risque, but Dave Grohl and Jack Black spanking one another is.

What really confuses me though is why they have chosen to ban the video outright. In the past, they will often either ask the artisit to edit the video (i.e. Mystikal changing Shake That Ass to Shake It Fast) or they will just relegate the video to late night rotation (Cher's Turn Back Time or Prodigy's Smack My Bitch Up). I am curious if their choice to ban the video is the air in which all of the questionable scenes are presented. If it's Jack Black and Dave Grohl, then all of the scenes are obviously done in jest. Maybe the network feels that homosexuality shouldn't be mocked and that is why they have chosen to ban it. Of course if that were the case, Tom Green would have to be off the air, as would a host of their other shows.

Or then again, maybe it's all a grand scheme for the Foo Fighters to be able to sell their DVD of Low, which is set to be released next week. Funny how a video being banned tends to boost the sales of such things.

 
Infallible Truth #603

Anyone who has their name printed on their truck in Old English letters, inevitably has the same tattoo somewhere on their body.

 
Now here's a real enticing want-ad, found under the vague heading of "Professional"

BORED PROFESSIONALS & SKILLED WORKERS. Ever consider joining an ecovillage with spiritual emphasis & helping to change the world?

Since when is joining a cult considered a career change?

 
I know that I am probably going to hell for that last post, but I figure I am headed there anyway. At this point, I'm just trying to get a good seat at the bar.

 
You know who scares me? the people on the Atkin's Diet. Actually, that's not fair. It's only those who have crossed the fine line from dieters to cult members that really bother me. They are like the Jehova's Witnesses of diets.

They come into the coffee shop and will always insist, not merely ask, that their coffee be made with half and half or whipping cream and that no bread come with their sandwich. These are not unreasonable requests, by any means though. It's when we run out of half and half or accidentally, god forbid, make their sandwich with bread, that things become difficult. These seemingly normal people become spreaders of the Atkins gospel. They have to inform you that they are on the Atkins diet, why they're on it and how it has helped them. Then comes the invite. "You really should try it," they say.

Yes, I know that you are losing weight on it, and that everyone from Matthew Perry to Minnie Driver to Catherine Zeta-Jones to Julia Roberts have had success on it. Congratu--fuckin--lations to them. I haven't joined the Church of Scientology, so what makes anyone think celebrities and some random stranger are going to make me choose a diet that I have to adopt for life?

I know another great way to lose a lot of weight fast, take some barbituates and drink kool-aid.

Note: I think that there may be some merit in exploring a link between Scientology and the Atkins diet. It's too perfect of a fit. Maybe Dr. Atkins was some kind of L. Ron Hubbard disciple. I think it's worth looking into.

 
Earlier this evening, I went out briefly to celebrate surviving the 18 days straight I just worked. I step in the bar only to find it dimly lit, music churning in the background and hearing grunting, panting and barking. No I didn't go to Rawhide or the Phoenix, I went to the Bridge Lounge. It's a rather quiet bar down Magazine Street. Tonight, though, was dog night.

As soon as I walked in the door, I had two dogs "wrestling" practically on top of me. It soon became clear that they were not playing, but rather looking to get some. One dog, began performing fellatio on the other. He apparently liked it because he lifted his leg to give the other dog better access. And that was before I had walked more than five feet into the bar. Tonight I managed to witness puppy blowjubs, anal sex and even some watersports. It was a giant puppy orgy tonight at the Bridge Lounge. If your dog ever has a hankering for some doggy lovin', feel free to take it to the Bridge Lounge on Tuesday nights. It's like Rawhide, but without the one drink minimum or cover.

 
I love our Sysco rep, in a charater study sort of way. She sounds like a constipated Linda Richman and looks like Harvey Fierstein in drag if Hellen Keller picked out his clothes.

 
Last night was the end of an era, so to speak. Yesterday was the last night of the Shim Sham. I have spent many a night here, and have many fond memories of it. It was only appropriate that their last night be "1984", their most popular night, and the one that first attracted me there.

The Shim Sham went out the only way it could. With block-long lines to get in and a club filled to capacity (and then some), it went down in a blaze of glory. Even though beer became scarce and the air-conditioning stopped working, no-one seemed to mind. We celebrated death in the cliched New Orleans way, with a celebration. There was no mourning and sadness until the doors were permanently closed. Prior to that, it was a party that no one should have missed. Sweaty bodies, in various states of undress, packed the dance floor. People were buying water just to have something to pour over their heads and cool off. The floors were slick with spilled drinks and sweat and it was virtually impossible to move from where you were standing. In some way, that only fed the energy of those there, not dampen it, as it would have in any other situation.

So the Shim Sham is no more. Which begs the question of what to do now that it's gone. Sure the theme nights have been farmed out to various other clubs, but it can never be the same. And maybe that's for the best.

 
I had an incredibly good job interview today with these people. Its for a position as a coordinator of special events. So anyone who has any left over luck can send it over my way. I should know by the beginning of next week.

 
Thank you for keeping your promise.

 
Happy Birthday to James. And while I'm at it, congrats on graduation. And thus begins my whirlwind weekend of graduation fun. One on Saturday and another on Sunday and nothing but parties and fun in between. Hopefully I won't get sick this year like I did for mine last year.

Of course all of this graduation hoopla does not come without some self-reflexive thoughts. A year ago Sunday, I graduated from college. I decided that I would take a year off to enjoy life a little before throwing myself back into school. And as much as I may have bitched about life in the past year, it really wasn't as bad as I made it sound. I did get to travel a bit.(albeit, mostly to just one country. But I did go to three different cities there.) And it was nice not having the added pressure of school to deal with for a year. But as the rejection letters from grad schools began rolling in, I am realizing that I may be taking another year off. Which is fine with me, to be honest. Because while this year was somewhat relaxing, it was also a rough one at times.

This year off has helped to solidify my decision to go to grad school. I realize that's where I belong right now. And it has nothing to do with the horrible job market or the fact that I miss acting like an undergrad. I can honestly say, that I miss school. I miss doing research and writing papers and being in a classroom. I miss having in-depth discussions about a novel or semiotics. I miss the academic part of college. I can't help but feel like I've gotten dumber in this past year. My friends and I never seem to have anything really intellectual to debate. We all make this comment from time to time. We just feel braindead. And it's not like we don't read or watch film, but none of it seems that important any more, at least at this point in our lives.

So, hopefully, it's off to grad school I will go, eventually. Then I will have to fake my death and sell crafts in Tahiti in order to avoid my student loan debt. Well at least all my friends will have a place to come visit then. Of course, like him, it's not something I am going to want posted in my alumni magazine (especially since that will prove that I only faked my death).

 
I love going to Wal-Mart at 2:00 in the morning. For one, it's the only time I am even willing to step into the place. Plus there's always something interesting to see. Last night I stopped on my way home to get some cough drops and medicine. As I get into line, I notice the items the man in front of me is purchasing:

a bouquet of flowers,
a mothers day gift set with lotions, bath puff, etc.,
some very nice hand towels with a floral pattern,
and two packages of adult diapers.

I sure hope his mother had a lovely day today.

 
I again have a viable internet connection and a working computer so the blog is back is business. So as a celebration of this fact I am going to bitch about my day.

I wake up early to pick up James from work so that he he can get to his thesis defense on time. The plan was that I would bring him to school and back and then wander around the quarter for a little while. Not so much. Instead, I arrive, park my car and within all of five minutes, I see that it is being towed. Apparently today was street cleaning day and I was in the way. So a cab ride and $100 later I have my car, and James and I are speeding off to Tulane so he won't be late. Then after he gets done, due to a miscommunication, he gets a ride with a professor to work while I am trying to find him on campus. Only to have to go back to Good Friends anyway because all of his stuff is still in my car.

Can I just go back to bed and pretend today never happened?

 
Just so everyone knows, I got to see Bob Dylan live yesterday, and for free.

That is all.

 
I know I haven't written in a while. Life's been crazy and I am being worked to death. And I also went through a break-up. With who? Some tall dark and handsome stranger, you might ask?

No. It was a realtionship that was inevitably going to end from the beginning. It was probably the age difference if you ask me. I mean, she was three and I am 23. My computer and I have finally parted ways. I think she may have found someone new through a peer 2 peer program like Kazaa or Win MX. And when she realized that she couldn't be with someone new and was tired of being with me, she just up and committed suicide one morning. She probably thinks she left me devastated, but I have news for her, I'm trading up for a newer model. So there, bitch.

So, sometime this weekend a new computer will be purchased and hopefully I will have lovely, sweet, computer and internet access again.

 
Want to ensure your place in hell? Go dress up jesus for Easter. Personally, I like the outfit with the sundress, hat and pumps.

 
During my recent trip to the coffee savanna, I encountered a pack of another interesting species, one which is quite abundant.

Self-Important Customer
(humanus cellularis)

This species is very easily identified by the growth on their ear that resembles a cell phone. The alpha males of the species often will only sport an ear piece sized growth. To this creature, the idea of waiting in line is preposterous. They deserve to be helped immediately, which they often make abundantly clear to the barristas and other customers around them.

They have adapted so well to the cell phone-looking appendage, which makes them slightly deaf, that they have developed their own sign language when ordering. Unfortunately, they are the only ones who actually understand this language. The less mature of the species typically are not fluent in signing their order and simply expect everyone to be able to read their lips. This is a chracteristic not only of the partial deafness, but also the fact that they would never deign to speak to a lowly barrista or other service personnel.

Their larvae exhibit many of the same traits, except they trade business attire for trendy Abercrombie clothing.

Both are easily defeated by the barrista making a point to ask as many questions as possible, and never all at once. Rather, stringing them out over a long period so that the phone call is regularly interrupted.

 
Everyone must go and visit Dionne Warwick's Cosmic Peephole. It's scary how right she can be sometimes.

According to her:

I have a decaying human head in the refrigerator vegetable crisper. (which, while true, is really redundant, because where else would I have a vegetable crisper but in the fridge.)

I sport a high-security chastity belt to match those sensible shoes. (I think she may be right about this as well considering how long it has been since I've had some good lovin'.)

She also said that:

Brain Dead Senior Lady has a vast personal collection of bodily fluids in test tubes -- and is adding a ladle of fresh mucous to it now. (Which would explain why she always smells like pee.)

[via Rhinoceros]

 
In my quest to explore the coffeehouse biome, I received some field notes on three species from a lovely blogger who is much funnier and dead on than I could ever hope to be:

Fat Cow
(Orca Slobitus)

- Each order takes 10 minutes
- might as well give them EVERYThing.
- They always sweat. A lot.
- They lick their lips in greedy anticipation of the treats to come.
- Have a knack for balancing several plates at the same time, and can negotiate their way around crowded dining rooms with surprising ease, given their huge girth.
- Like to bond with Barrista's/Service personnel - so that they don't get laughed at.

Brain Dead Senior Lady
(Grandma Forgetus)

- Can't complete order on their own
- you try to help - they get all cranky.
- Carry more shit in their purses than the 8th Battalion brought to Iraq.
- Smell like pee.
- Want extra napkins.
- Often accuse staff of ripping them off.
- Forget why they're there.
I also have to add that they tend to take forever unpacking their purses to find their money. Typically, this means that their belongings and purchases will be spread all over the counter preventing anyone else from being able to order. This is an attempt to mark their territory. Also, they always complain that it's too cold inside, whatever the thermostat may read which supports the belief that they really are cold blooded.

Chick On Speed
(Anorecta Amephetimus)

- Not nearly as cool as the Band of same name.
- Mumble orders at the speed of light - and then, get really loud.
- Average weight :: 54 lbs.
- Finding money on their person turns into huge, embarrassing MAJOR FLAIL.
- Actually - turns out they don't HAVE any money.
- Look horrible…but they don't know that.
- Never eat; just want coffee; shocked that they can't smoke within establishment; really - all they want is the bathroom key
- everything else was just a "clever" ruse to get the bathroom key…..need the BATHROOM KEY!!!

And I have another to add:

The Hoarder
(Borderlinus Kleptus)

This species tends to need a lot of stuff. It is a widely held belief that they are a member of the rodent family, due to the fact that they hoard things in a manner similar to squirrels and rats, and they all smell the same. They are easily identified by their large purses which are not-so-covertly filled with sugar packets, creamers, and whatever else they can get their hands on. If caught, they will simply use tell you that they couldn't get to the grocery and assume that you won't mind.

A variant of this species is not interested in actually taking the materials. Instead they are identified by a disproportionate amount of paraphanelia in comparison their purchases. For example, if one of these creatures were to purchase a medium iced tea, they would take no less than 28 sugar packets to their table where they would only use three. Or they might need eight napkins two forks, a knife and three spoons in order to consume a cup of soup. Also noted for their inability to pick up behind themselves.

 
If patient enough, one is lucky enough to observe the always annoying, yet potential jackpot known as:

The Tourist
(humanus kitschus travelous)

The Tourist is an amazing breed that is the subject of many current studies do their abiliy to ask an infinite number of questions, despite the stupidity of the questions. Often known to ask directions to places less than three blocks away. They are easily identified by their tacky clothing, cameras, large maps and fanny packs. Baristas and other Service Industry Workers are their key prey, often falsely displaying every ounce of stereotypical "local color" the Tourist expects to see in order to obtain large tips. This species is easily warded off by prominently displaying the phrase, "If it's tourist season, why can't we shoot them?"

 
In my trips to the coffee house jungle, I have encountered many different species, though none were so irritating as the:

Cheap Bitch
(humanus thriftus)

Despite the name of this creature, it can be found it both male and female forms. It is very abundant due to the fact that it has no real predators. Service Industry Workers (SIW) often threaten it, but rarely do they prey upon it, due to their instincts to be nice to everyone, even if it is fake. The Cheap Bitch is easily spotted in the wild by their addiction to change. They often pay their bill with exact change and leave no tip or on the rare occasions that they do not have exact change, they will pick the quarters (and in rare occasions dimes) out of the change received before leaving a tip consisting of pennies and nickels. Many will use the excuse that they have laundry to do, but SIW's see through their lies when they drive off in their BMW's. This species can be observed at all hours of the day. They are identifiable by their ability to hold up lines so they can find exact change. Ironically, they are often unable to do simple math.

 
Today, in the world of coffee house ethnography, we take a look at the:

Skim Nazi
(humanus contradictus)

The Skim Nazi is the well known cousin of the Decaf Nazi. It shares many of the same traits such as the screech as the repetitive asking if it's skim milk. However, the Skim Nazi can be observed at almost any time of day or night. The most identifiable aspect of the Skim Nazi is the sense of humor that they think they posses. Often, after being assured that their beverage is being made with skim they will ask for whipped cream or chocolate to be added to the beverage. The more daring types will even ask for a dessert such as cheesecake. Typically this request is accompanied by the comment that they got their drink made with skim so that it would balance out the "extras." This remark is always followed by a chuckle. Often the Skim Nazi is under the impression that:

a) They are the first person to ever use this humorous line of reasoning and the barista is sure to laugh out loud at their creative wit

b)This remark, is in fact so witty, that a barista never grows tired of hearing it and it. Actually, it brightens their day to be regaled with such humor.

Sadly, both lines of reasoning are wrong, and the Skim Nazi's humor can be easily squelched by the eye-rolling of the Surly Barista.

 
I have decided that rather than hating my job and bitching about it, I am going to treat it as an ethnographic mission, where I study the phenomna and species that can be found at my place of work.

The first study I have conducted is that of the Decaf Nazi.

Decaf Nazi
(humanus decaffeinis)

This creature is characterized by incessantly asking if their beverage is decaffeinated. Typically they will ask a minimum of four times. They can mainly be observed during early to late evening. Rarely seen at night. Easily identifiable by the screech in their voice. Close cousin to the Skim Nazi.

 
In the past 4 days I have had eight different people come to this site looking for homemade tattoo gun plans. (And I am sure that by typing this that number will only increase.)

Let me just say that I know nothing about this topic and actually urge you to have your tattoo work done by a professional.

Or, if listening to reason just isn't for you, you could just go buy the plans for $10.00 at this guys site.

 
I love living in New Orleans where the weather is schizophrenic. Yesterday it was sweltering and today it is 55 degrees. Could someone explain that to me?

 
I had pretty much decided to avoid talking about the war on my blog. And up until this point I have been successful. That was until I read this post at Michele's blog.

Apparently, there was an incident in Montpelier, Vermont where teenages were screaming things like "baby killer" and "murderer" at a woman in the National Guard, and then proceeded to throw rocks at her.

Now, I will be the first to say that I am opposed to this war. I think that our decision to unilaterally attck another country is a poor one. And even more, the idea of setting up a democratic government in the center of the Middle East is ludicrous.

But that in no way makes me want to throw rocks at a member of the armed forces. These people have it bad enough. Many of those fighting in Iraq joined the Army to help pay for school. Believe me, this isn't exactly the trade-off they thought they were going to make for an education. And for those who chose this as a career, it's not any easier to go half-way around the world and leave their friends and family behind to fight a war in the middle of the desert. While we can say that it will be an easy war or we will have minimal casualties, soldiers know better than anyone else, that the chance is always there that they might not make it home.

I am fine with anyone hating the war for any number of reasons. And I totally support war protests. But don't take it out on the armed forces. It's an asinine and uninformed method of protest, that's not going to get you anywhere.

 
Is it wrong to go to a St. Joseph's Altar and cruise boys? Is it even more wrong to go to a gay bar afterwards to get your drink on becaue the box wine just wasn't doing it for you?

 
I have found that it helps make work a little more tolerable when I show up buzzed. That's why I made a point to get my Irish on at Parasol's today before going to work.

Of course, being Italian/Sicilian and not at all Irish, the celebration I am really interested in is on Wednesday, when I will be consuming food in near dangerous amounts. But I only get the stuff once a year, so what the hell, right?

 
It's about to storm. The skies have darkened and the wind has begun to blow. I can her the rumbles of thunder getting even closer. And all I want to do is sit on my back porch and watch it pour and then fall asleep to the sound of rain pounding on the roof.

 
I have finally started hearing back from universities. When I called Concordia yesterday, they informed me that I had been waitlisted. Lovely. That means that they decided to not make a decision. I have to wait and see a bit longer. And of course, I have no idea what number I am on the waitlist because I stupidly didn't think to ask.

 
What kind of sign is it when your birthday begins by watching a member of the cast of Sesame Street Live strip at the OZ?

Yeah, that's what I thought too.

 
Cracked Out

Tonight, work was the weirdest it's ever been. It actually trumped the afternoon a woman brought us roadkill squirrel in the midle of lunch. "She actually told us if it had been a rabbit she would have "gutted it, cleaned it and made some stew. But you just can't get enough meat off squirrels.") But back to the present.

Saturday nights are usually very quiet. We typically get some studiers and a few couples coming home from a party. Tonight I had to kick out a large group of kids who thought it would be a good idea to make a collage out of live flowers and sugar on the table, using honey as adhesive. Then we get slammed because a horde of people left a wedding reception at the country club down the street. But the crowing moment was when two white trash girls come in.

One of the girls heads immediately to the bathroom while the other proceeds to buy an apple and a granola bar. This girl is completely tweaked out and can't stand still for two seconds. She is shaking worse than a parkinson's patient when she tries to pay with change. Finally, she joins the other girl in the bathroom, only to exit five minutes later reaking of men's cologne. Come to find out, they had been smoking crack in the bathroom. At the rate I have been going with work, I was honestly expecting one of them to OD in the bathroom, but no such luck. I think it may be time to find a new job.

 
It's really a shame that the weather we had today wasn't the weather we had for Mardi Gras.

(How sad is it that this is the first time since Mardi Gras that I have been anywhere near my computer? It's also dangerous seeing as how the people at hotmail have sent death threats if I don't check my mail soon.)

 
It's only 11:00 and I have already had a full day. At 5 after 10:00 this morning, I was awoken by the people from my bank calling, asking if I had written a $380.00 check to an Andre something-or-other. Realizing that I hadn't and shortly thereafter, realizing that my checkbook was missing, I was off to the bank to close my account.

All I have to say is that I am so happy that a stupid person was forging my checks. Aparently, he cashed a check for $250 this morning at a branch of my bank. Then, less than an hour later he went back to the same branch to cash another check. This time, someone had the presence of mind to ask him for ID, which he produced. Not only did he show them his ID, but he allowed them to photocopy it, before leaving the building without getting the second check cashed.

So now I have a new checking account and my bank actually has a photocopy of the the ID of the man who was forging my checks. Plus, because no one checked his ID or the signature file the first time, the bank has to give me back my $250. So I have officially had enough fun for one day. I think I'm going back to bed.

 
I know I haven't really written much in a while, but that is because every time I sit down to write a post, and I can only seem to think of one thing to write about. I just keep deleting them because they were about something I couldn't really get my head around. I think I finally have enough of a grasp of it to write about.

About four weeks ago, my parents who have been married for almost 28 years, split up. I have to say it didn't come as too much of a surprise, but it has managed to affect me more than I expected. My father told me he was leaving on a Wednesday. That Saturday he moved out. It wasn't until he left that it really hit me. I was suddenly very afraid. I could sense the fear in both of my parents, and in a way I absorbed it. The fears of what does this mean, and how can this actually be happening. Also I realized some of the practical things I hadn't thought much about like bills and morgatges and how this was going to work out financially.

The past month has been tough. I still live at home, but I work so much that I might see my mother twice a week. It's hard because while I am at work, all I can think about is her sitting at home alone, for the first time in 28 years. One of the hardest things is having to sit at a table with your mother and watch her cry and know that there is nothing you can do to help.

 
I am a bit confused about my job description as of late. I was under the impression that I was the night manager at a coffee shop. Apparently, my boss thinks I am a bit more than that.

Two weekends ago, I had to work with an 18 year old girl, who we were pretty sure was a drug addict. Judging from the "infection" on her wrist that was manifested that evening, I would say we were right. Also her behavior and appearance was that of a patron of a meth clinic.

Last weekend I had the pleasure of working with an 18 year old who informed me when we closed that she had to leave within thirty minutes. This was so she could get back to the homeless shelter before curfew and obtain a bed.

Tonight I worked with a 19 year old who had just found out she was pregnant.

So you can see my confusion. While I thought I just worked in a coffeeshop, I apparently am also a teen social worker. Lucky me!

 
Someone, urged us to meet him at Pub tonight, but when we arrived he was nowhere to be found. How suspiscious.

 
Just so everyone knows, when a coffeeshop, restaurant, etc is closing do not:

1. Assume you have the right to stay while they clean up around you.

2. Ignore the hint of being served in to go cups when you order 10 minutes before closing

3. Ignore the hint of having your table cleaned off 10 minutes after closing.

4. Take your sweet ass time leaving when asked to leave.

5. Talk on your cell phone, ask to borrow a pen, and then write a small novel on a napkin after you have been asked to leave.

6. Assume that service workers don't have lives or things to do after closing. While this may surprise many people, we do not exist solely to serve you.

**This rant brought to you by too much caffeine and rude customers**

 
To whomever came here looking for homemade tattoo gun plans, I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help.

 
Last night, to satiate James curiosity, I took him to some of the Metairie gay bars. Yes, you heard me correctly, gay bars in the suburbs. And yes, they were more tragic than you could imagine. I think what the bartender said here, probably sums up the whole experience:

"Well, it's kind of dead now, but just wait till about 10:30 when all the bowlers get done, and this place will be jammin."

Yes, he said bowlers.
Yes, he said jammin.
Yes, we left not long after.

 
Despite every attempt at procrastination, I finally got some photos up over here. Mostly from Vancouver, Toronto, and graduation. Of course, there is still a very large pile of pictures to still be scanned and uploaded.

 
I'm finally back home. I need a new liver, a hot shower and a warm bed.