i’m really attractive.

Or something. It’s a possibility that people just assume my pockets are lined with crack, i have no idea.I just like to pride myself.

However, let me share a few examples.

I was at a bar with  a guy who was mildly interested in me. I was in mid sentence about, possibly the most boring subject ever, how people don’t claim their tips properly…and BAM

he pounced.

literally…i was mid-sentence and then someone’s lips were on mine.

fast forward to  a couple weeks ago. I was hanging out with an acquaintance, we were at his place, i met his mom. We were in his room, sitting on the couch, i was drinking water (c’mon people…not even gin)

He took my glass, set it down…and BAM

He pounced.

…do you get the trend? I’m getting pounced on….a lot. Seriously, there have been three other occurrences of this.

Clearly, I am taken aback.

Also…a co-worker just recently found out that I’m single. Last night, he texted me.

“Wanna fuck and not make it awkward?”

…um, WHAT?!

No…I want it to be as awkward as possible. Plus…if i were to take him up on that offer, it would be INCREDIBLY awkward not matter what i did.

what the hell people? do i give off some “single pheromone?”

Speedle and I broke up.

I’m not going to go into detail, but…it was pretty amicable and we both saw it coming.

Regardless, I told Willimu about it via text, and this was one of the responses i recieved.

Willimu: shit, did you keep the instructions to your heart?
Self: it didn’t come with any…it was on clearance and had a tag that said “irregular”
Willimu: oh shoot. maybe we can find some new drivers that will work. what version are you using?

This is why i love my friends.

Alright, I don’t want to go into too much detail, but here’s the gist of what has happened in my life since my last post:

• I got fired. [meh]
• I got hired. [...meh]
• I have since trained at my new job. [I am now authorized to serve you food and alcohol! spooky!]
• I have almost finished playing Final Fantasy 8 [something I was never previously able to accomplish. Screw you Sorceress Adel! I just killed you! Bitch!]
• I have developed an unhealthy obsession with Squall. [The main character of FF8]
• I. almost, perpetually smell like Mexican food.
• Sometimes…I taste like Mexican food. [yes, this has been tested. Speedle told me so this very morning.]

So yeah, that’s what I’ve been up to.

Let’s see, I feel like i should include something funny…hm…

Ah! A recent conversation between co-worker’s:

L: So, I was with my boyfriend…Who’s Asian! Like YOU!
Self: …I’m not Asian.
L: What!? I thought you were Asian!!!
Self: Yeah, um, no?
C: We ALL thought you were Asian…
Self: Nope…definitely Mexican and Native American.
Manager: [just walking around the corner]
Manager: what? You’re not Asian?
Self: …I checked “Hispanic” on my application…

This continues to be an area of concern for most of my co-workers. Especially since some of them know that I can speak [some] Japanese.

Anyway, that’s about it for now, just letting you know I’m not dead.

P.S. Speaking of dead…ZOMBIES.

Speaking of Zombies…ZOMBIE PORN.

Speaking of zombie porn…GAY ZOMBIE PORN!

If you’re ever in the mood for a seriously FCUKED up movie, you need to see Otto; Or, Up With Dead People. It’s…really bad. Like, almost excruciatingly bad. The only good parts are:

• little girl gets slapped by angry german woman.
• main character eats dead rabbit on side of road
• zombie orgy [in which there are cut scenes of raw meat being cut, as well as a leg being gnawed on]
• zombie having sex with a corpse’s stomach [in which you see a REAL boner, going into a stomach hole]
• deleted scenes of zombie orgy [which is…well…a true gay orgy. And you see EVERYTHING. blow/hand/rim/etc jobs, anal, and cum shots! and raw meat! and severed legs! what more could you want!? TELL ME!!!!

Oh shit…I’b thick. I’b tho thick. I can’d dop deezing.

This…kind of sucks. My voice sounds like Barry Manilow if he were wearing that nose cap that Rudolph’s dad made him wear to hide his red nose.

Essentially: I sound like Henry Kissinger.

Needless to say, taking phone calls at work has been an absolute blast

Phone: rrrrrrRRIIINNNNGG!

Self: Good bording, dis is Jeddy, how cand I help you dooday?

Caller: Um, well. I got a bill and I was won-

Self: HOLD OD! Jud a bidute, I…I – I *SNEEEEZE*

I’m waiting for the gale force of my sneezes to either fling my two monitors at the wall, or to propel me backwards until I am no longer in the office. Or I’m expecting proboscis like strands of mucus to leave my nose to cold-heartedly send people to collections. Seriously, after watching so many Mucinex commercials, I don’t doubt that MY mucus has the power to do this.

I actually find those commercials incredibly unsettling. I’ll agree that Mucinex is a fine product, however, the thought of my chest being a quaint bed and breakfast for boogery people really kind of skeeves me out.

…less than the kraken like monster I’ve convinced myself is living in my sinuses.

Regardless, I haven’t written about Valentine ‘s Day, yet.

Originally, we were planning on going to X/O, an Asian restaurant. I love eel, and I knew that they had a great broiled eel dish, plus, Speedle had never been there. We didn’t make a reservation, but we weren’t planning on heading out to the restaurant until 8:30-ish anyway, so figured it wouldn’t be a big deal.

X/O ended up being kind of busy, but it didn’t seem THAT bad. We stood at the front, waiting for the hostess. She finished…whatever she was doing (I firmly believe that she was just doodling and avoiding eye contact) and ran off! Ten minutes later, she returned to the host stand. She turned to a man that had already been helped, and asked if he needed anything.

Hostess: May I help you? (to Helped Man)

Helped Man: Nope! I’m all set!

Self: Hi! You could help US!

Hostess: [glare that is meant to incinerate]

Hostess: [with a tone of voice that is reserved for the people that murdered your family]

Hostess: …how?

Self: um…a table? Chairs? I don’t usually just stand in the fronts of restaurants.

Hostess: [rolls eyes]

Self: [considers smacking with a raw fish]

Hostess: half hour.

Hostess: [walks away]

Self:…hmph…

Speedle: That. Little. ****.  [rhymes with punt, shunt, and runt]

Self: …Wanna try The Bull’s Head?

Speedle: Sure!

So we walked out, and started heading down the street. On our way, we saw another swanky joint called Tre Cugini. Neither of us had been there either, so we checked out the menu. The cheapest meal was in the lower $20 range…a little to rich for my blood, but…it was a holiday! Right? Special Occasion?

Didn’t matter though, they were booked.

FINALLY we made it to The Bull’s Head, and I fell in love with the place all over again.

We were sat immediately.

Our appetizer was out in five minutes.

Our dinner was out in an appropriate fifteen minutes after that.

The food was simply amazing. I had a duck breast with a blackberry Chambord sauce, with asparagus and mashed sweet potatoes. Speedle had fried perch with creamed spinach and rice. He also had a margatini (a weird blend of margarita and martini…go figure) while I stuck to a classic dirty martini. It actually ended up being the perfect meal, the portions were just enough to fill us up, but not need to take anything home. The atmosphere was cozy and intimate, but not impersonal to other customers.

The prices were quite reasonable as well, for what we ordered.

I was so afraid it was going to be an awful Valentine’s after the runt at X/O…but it turned out wonderfully.

*SNEEZE*

Right, and hey…readers…all….two of you. How ya doing? You are equally good looking. Buy me food.

So a lot has happened in the past twenty four days, but I probably won’t write about all of that. It would take far too long, and be far too boring. I’ll offer a few quick highlights though:

6^th Month Anniversary

Speedle and I celebrated this the last time I updated. It…didn’t quite go as planned. We hadn’t really made plans, but I figured we would do SOMETHING. I didn’t really think Speedle could FORGET, considering the week prior to the date we were both all “Guess what Tuesday is?” (usually I would respond with “uh, the twentieth?”) So, I got out of work and started to head home, but Speedle asked that I go to his dad’s house. I walked in the door and found him (a) in pajamas (b) surrounded by magic cards (c) unbathed and (d) kind of finding the magic cards more interesting than me. I mentioned our anniversary and got a reply of “Just a sec, I’m trying to build my green white deck.”

What. The. Fuck.

Luckily, I’m amazing at guilt tripping people and relaying my annoyance through passive aggressive behavior. I loudly asked his sister “Hey Speedle Sis! Guess what today is!?”

“uh, the twentieth?”

“right! AND our six month anniversary!”

“Awww…you should do something!” This sort of smacked Speedle in the face, and he began to apologize profusely, promising me we would do something special the next day. This resulted in an amazing sushi/eel dinner at Marado, my favorite sushi place, and the location of our first real date. Then Framboise and wine and a movie back home. Everyone saw “awww”

Job = HEADDESKBAM

With my old manager quitting, and a new CEO, things have been hectic. I’ve also started taking phone calls from patients. Which has been…interesting.

Self: Wow…it looks like you guys were cutting it pretty close, it looks like your insurance ended the day after your husband was seen at the ER.

Caller: …That’s because he died.

Self: oh, um. Sorry? I guess…that would, y’know, explain it.

Caller: I should hope so.

I’ve had to work hard at resisting my natural urges to lie. I’ve had to bite my tongue when I realize I’m about to pick up the phone with a fake accent. However, I’ve given in just a few times. An older lady called, and I was just sick of her calling me “young man.” SERIOUSLY. It was “well, young man, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do young man! Young man, do you know blahblahblah young man?”

I finally just stopped her and said “ma’am? I’m thirty-seven. I’m not a “young man.” “

Don’t judge me for lying to old people. You do it too.

Yesterday, the new CEO and I played Macguyver with a leaky coffee maker, scissors, tape, a plastic bowl, and a garbage bag.

CEO: You don’t even know who Macguyver is, you’re too young.

Self: What!? I so know who Macguyver is!

CEO: Don’t lie to me, you’re far too young…

Self: Am not! I used to watch it when I was little! With my grandpa!

CEO: hah! With your “Grandpa”  [as an aside, she did not use air quotes, but you could hear them in her voice]

Self: Yeah…he used to watch it, so when I was with him, I would watch it…then he died.

CEO: …”then he died”…that’s really a great way to end a story, Jesse

Self: well…I didn’t have much reason to watch it anymore, after that.

Can someone please give me a crown, for being the king of awkward? Also, I want a scepter. And possibly a national holiday.

So, that’s about it for highlights of the last 24 days. Now, I want to move onto something that happened last night. It’s…odd. Curious, even. One might even say queer [oooo foreshadowing! Spooky!]

Hokai, so it was kind of a typical Thursday night at the bar…only, not quite so typical because Jayda was buying ME drinks. And Greg (who, for his privacy, we will call…Greg) was better tolerated because we were having one of those big political/religious/don’t talk about this at dinner conversations.

So there we were, all debatey and drinky and good, when someone I thought I knew walked by. I stared at him (not out of attraction, mind you, out of confusion) and even did a blatant turn-around in my chair. I eventually just walked up to him, and he shouted my name before I even got to his table.

Turns out it was my Jellybean.

Backstory! (imagine there’s twinkly music and everything’s becoming mirage-like)

So, back when I went to a place called college, I lived in the honors dorm. (As Willimu so kindly put it, last night: with all the smart kids!) So did Jellybean! Long story short (too late) we used to study together all the time and he’s my jellybean and we both forget what my nickname is, and once we went to discussions and he got a milkshake.

He always identified himself as straight but comfortable around us gay folk. So…I didn’t think it was that weird that he would be at the gay bar with his gay friend.

Being the nice boy that I am, I offered to buy us some shots to toast our reunion. We started to head to the bar, and I asked him what he liked… “I like THIS” he said, while squeezing my ass.

…hm.

I laughed it off. My straight guy friends do that sort of thing all the time…don’t yours? Ok…they might SLAP my ass, but a squeeze? Interesting.

Shortly after the shots, he told me that he considered himself leaning towards straight, but a little bit bi. “So you’re a top, then.” I blurted out. He simply nodded.

Ok, weird, but…whatever. Good for him.

After dancing a bit (…he was not a good dancer, he did not get that queer gene…also, he was handsy) we went to a table and sat for a bit. He then told me, what could possibly be, something very flattering…

“I neverever would have even considered myself as bisexual until I met you. If it weren’t for you…I don’t think I’d even look twice at any guy…I mean, I think about you at least once a week. You’re just…so smart, and talented and…you’re just a BEAUTIFUL man.”

Then he planted a slobbery kiss on my cheek.

After further questioning, I learned that the most he’s done with a guy is make out. However, if I had been open to the idea back in school, he would have been all over me.

But…I was weirded out. Seriously. Should I have been flattered? I’m still not sure whether or not I should have taken it as a compliment.

What do YOU think, dearest reader?

p.s. Willimu! The Guy That Cuts My Hair was there last night…he thinks your cute. Want his number? I has it!

Friday, immediately after work, I had to attend a wedding rehearsal. I abhor wedding rehearsals, but…this was a necessary ordeal, as I had signed up to be the piano player, at this particular wedding. Unfortunately, there were several key spots in the wedding, and the only thing I was told was “I want Canon in D when I come down the aisle.”

Awesome, great. Whatever.

Anyway, as we started figuring out the timing of the music, we ended up deciding that I would play Ave Maria while all the bridesmaids and groomsmen came out (note: I, at this point, had never played Ave Maria in my life). Then I would play the first two pages of my modernized Canon in D as Rebecca and her father came down the aisle. After the vows, I would play a chopin nocturne while the unity candle was being lit. Then I would play the traditional wedding exit music as they left. (something I haven’t touched since my brother’s wedding last year)

We thought we had all the timing’s down.

We were wrong.

Saturday, I played, for about an hour, while everyone got seated and situated. I was told I could play whatever I wanted, but I kept it to flighty romantic stuff. Think, Debussey’s Arabesque.

The cue came to start playing Ave Maria (I spent an hour the night before learning it, it was quite simple, so trust me, it didn’t sound bad at all) I realized, as I was nearing the end, that I would finish before they would. I managed to start back over to the introduction and improvise a decent ending.

Then came the Canon. Apparently…Rebecca was frickin’ READY TO GET MARRIED! Because she FLEW down the aisle, and made it to the altar by the time I got to the second page.

Enter: Improvised ending number 2.

During the lighting of the unity candle, again, I got to the top of the second page of the nocturne, and had to improvise a THIRD ending.

I played enough of the wedding march to get them out of the chapel, and then went on to play the full version of Canon in D.

Unbeknownst to me, the new couple decided to come back in, and greet EVERY SINGLE PERSON at the wedding. I sighed, finished the Canon, and then proceeded to just play the theme, and variations, as background music until they were all done.

I know, I know…I’m making this sound like I did a horrible job, and it was a mess of a wedding. But it wasn’t! I promise! I actually did really well! It was just hard on my poor nerves, having to be on the edge of my seat and wait for all these cues. The fact that I could only see bridesmaid’s backs didn’t help much either.

Anyway, it worked out well, and I was congratulated and praised several times.

I don’t think I’m the most astounding piano player of all time, but I do think that I’m a natural at it. I wonder if this makes a difference in the way it sounds? I can’t really tell. But if YOU want to hear ME play, go to my myspace music page! Just…please note…those recordings are actually quite old, and I couldn’t hear myself playing. My friend didn’t have all the right cords for me to actually monitor what was being recorded, so it was all done by touch.

Anyway!

We then headed to the reception! Open bar! Whooo! The reception was held at a country club (big money). I couldn’t say too much for the DJ, but the rest of the reception was nice. Dinner was salad, followed by roast beef, with redskin mashed potatoes, and green beans. Dessert was either chocolate cake with mystery frosting (I didn’t try it, I don’t know what it was) or carrot cake with a cream cheese frosting, and coffee.

Then more open bar.

If you haven’t notice, all of my weekends sort of blur together. Honestly, it’s not because of poor recollection, it’s because I’m usually quite busy. I probably sleep less on the weekends, than I do during the week.

Sunday, was the Miss Drag Queen of the Year pageant, in which Alexandria was participating. He did an amazing job, and looked gorgeous (I’ll post a picture someday, but…I’m not kidding…he looks very very much like a pretty pretty woman in drag. He…really doesn’t look like a boy….at all. It’s unsettling sometimes) and did an amazing job.

Unfortunately, he didn’t win. He didn’t even place. However! All the contestants had to vote on who they thought would win. Apparently Alexandria got the most votes, so he won a little certificate and gets free entry in to the pageant next year.

Now we move on to Monday.

I actually DID make it to work on time (I think) but ended up having to leave early, due to a uh…medical…emergency. See, my gums have been kind of sore the last couple days. I was about to schedule a dentist appointment, but that meant I had to fish out all my insurance paper and see who had been assigned to me and blah blah blah. Regardless, I hadn’t done it yet.

But I was sitting at work, typing and being a model employee. I was kind of…y’know, sucking on the inside of my mouth, and tonguing at a couple of the sore spots….when I felt something like…tear? At first I thought “oh! Maybe I just had some food or something lodged in my gum, and that’s why it was sore! I think I had popcorn the other day…I bet it was just a kernel. Hmm…I taste blood, well, that’s fine…I’m sure it’s just from pulling out the food…”

So I got some paper towel, and returned to work holding the paper towel to my bleeding maw.

Two hours later, and several blood soaked paper towels, I thought that something might be wrong.

I walked into my manager’s office.

Self: uh…hiiiiiiii

Manager [not turning]: Hey Jess…what’s up?

Self: can I weave an doe do duh clidic?

Manager [still not turning]: Leave!?

Self: uh….yuh

Manager [should really turn, but hasn’t]: NO!

Self: pweeeeease? I’b bweeding adot fwom my mouf…

Manager: [turns] [notices blood saturated towel hanging from my “mouf”]

Manager: What’s WRONG with you!?

Self: I duddo! But I’b been bweeding for duh dast doo hours!

Manager: yes! GO! GO TO THE CLINIC, NOW!

Self: Danks!

And then I left! As I was walking out, I noticed another manager in the front conference room giving me a dirty look (for The Receptionist’s sake, her initials are AG) (for everyone else’s sake, The Receptionist and I don’t really like this manager. She’s kind of a b!tch most of the time, and always yells at me for being in the lobby ON MY BREAKS) She looked pretty disapproving of the fact that I was leaving, so…as I walked outside past the window of the conference room, I turned my head in her direction and spit out a solid red stream of blood.

I don’t really know if she saw this, due to the mirrored glass and such, but…I really hope she did.

I made my way to the urgent care center, where they admitted me immediately. (apparently coming in with a blood soaked towel will get you in faster) I went through all the registration rigmarole and then sat on the cot, stuffing my face with gauze.

The doctor came in and…basically did nothing. He put on some gloves and shoved his fingers in my mouth, poking here and there, asking me “does it hurt when I doooooooo THIS!? *STAB!*”

Well, yes doctor…it does hurt when you jam your fingers into my gums.

He then told me I should:

- See a dentist (I had been planning on it, thank you.)

- Call my dentists TODAY (again…I would have gone to him if I didn’t have a copious amount of blood coming out of my mouth)

- Swish salt water around my mouth (…I told you I had already been doing that, doctor)

- Take Tylenol for discomfort (again…really?)

- Maybe go see my general practitioner (…k)

He did nothing to help the bleeding, but…eventually it slowed down due to all the gauze.

Then he gave me a prescription for Penicillin, which is sure to be a rocking good time.

Everything’s much better today, I’m not in too much pain, and I’m not bleeding! The gums behind my top front teeth are still sore and a little swollen but…I will be seeing a dentist soon.

That trip to the clinic ended up having a co-pay of FIFTY FIVE DOLLARS. WTH? For some guy to poke my gums, I have to pay FIFTY FIVE DOLLARS?!

Oh well. I get reimbursed through work.

And now…we’re on to today.

Today is a very special day.

Not just because Obama is now president. Albeit, this is a wonderful wonderful thing.

Today is the six month anniversary of Speedle and me being Boyfriends! I decided, a while ago, that we should have a celebrity couple name. So, in the styles of Bennifer and Brangelina…we are Jesshea.

(Speedle’s real name is Shea (like…shea butter) and mine is Jesse. Sheasse just sounded dumb, granted, Jesshea isn’t much better. But ALL celebrity couple names sound dumb so, whatever.)

I’m sure I’ve said it before, somewhere on this blog, but I don’t really care to be called ‘babe’ or ‘baby’ or ‘hon’ or ‘sweetie’ or…whatever. I believe I’ve also stated that Speedle has a tendency to call EVERYONE by these names.

Usually, if I witness him call someone else by one of these pet names, and then immediately call me by the same one, I’ll nag him.

He would always shoot down my suggestions, because he wanted to come up with his own. I would usually shoot down his suggestions, because they were either a childhood nickname (which just sounds weird, coming from the person you sometimes have sex with) or they were ridiculously vulgar.

For a while, I was “darlin[g]” (the g was optional) which…I really didn’t have a problem with, and kind of liked. I mean, other than the south, you don’t hear “darling” that often.

Now, he’s slowly starting to settle on “brown eyes.” Admittedly, I don’t really have a problem with this either…in fact, it’s slowly starting to grow on me.

He’s always told me that my eyes were one of his favorite features on me. I don’t see what’s really all that special. I mean, they’re dark dark brown, almost black. I have an epicanthic fold, which makes me look asian. In direct sun light, my eyes are almost a golden brown, and in dark dance club lights, they have a “weird glowing sheen” (this is what I’m told by others, I have yet to witness it, but it’s present with or without contacts. Maybe I have some pigment that reacts to the blacklights, I do not know.)

Obviously, I call him Speedle. (rarely in real life, but sometimes)

But yes! We have been a couple for six months!

Hopefully, in four years, we’ll be celebrating our 4.5 anniversary, and the continuation of Obama’s presidency.

This post contains talk of bodily functions, sleep talking, and Twilight. Reader discretion is advised, due to the graphic nature, and general touchiness of the aforementioned topics. (Also, there may be some talk about work)

I finally had my 90 day review at work. I’ve actually been employed at this company for just over a year and a half, but the 90 days is from the time I switched to this position (read: Liaison, ooo! Fancy!). Apparently, I have been in this position since September 09, 2008. This would, of course, mean that my review came about a month late.

Regardless, I had the meeting with my manager and all went well. She actually didn’t have anything bad to say about me (minus that whole “excessive tardiness, lately, but the employee has already been spoken to regarding this subject” thing) I might be getting a raise, and some new job responsibilities.

But…I was thinking about my actual job performance and…this is just about how my day breaks down:

9:30am: Clock in. This may really be anywhere between 9:30am and 10:ish am. Possibly 11:00am.

AFTER-I-CLOCK:INam: Login/turn on my computer. For the rest of this, we will pretend I came in on time. You really do have to use your imagination to picture it. The Receptionist will attest to this fact.

9:32am: get tired of my computer loading so sluggishly and get some coffee and water.

9:42am: finally get logged in. Open Outlook and Internet Explorer.

9:42am-9:57am: Check both work and professional email

10:00am: Start working. Ponder what happened to the last three minutes.

11:15am: Finish all required daily work. Wonder what I’m going to do for the fifteen minutes until my break.

11:16am: catch up on emails, Myspace, and Facebook messages/notifications.

11:19am: start reading either blogs, or random news articles from Google News

11:30am: go on first fifteen minute break. Smoke one or two cigarettes.

11:45am: come back inside. Wonder what I’m going to do for the next…six hours and fifteen minutes.

12:17pm: concede to boredom, and ask managers for “more work please!”

12:30pm: finally get more work. Contemplate actually doing said work or not.

12:37pm: Break down and start random work because I am so EFFING bored.

1:30pm: second fifteen minute break. Smoke one or two cigarettes.

1:45pm: spend next fifteen minutes at the front desk, chatting with The Receptionist(s).

2:00pm: wander back to my desk. Slowly pick at work. Check personal email more times than is possibly necessary.

2:45pm: stare vacantly at computer

3:13pm: realize how long I’ve been staring at and alternately clicking windows/scrolling through documents.

3:14pm: ask a manager a question that they can’t easily give me an answer to so it looks like I’ve been busy trying to solve it. I probably really don’t know the answer to the question, and they don’t really either…but I spend a lot of time pretending to find solutions before I feel like I can go them, so I sound like I at least tried.

4:00pm: go on half hour lunch. I don’t really eat at work, so…some more “free” internet time and a couple of cigarettes.

4:30pm: depending on the late manager, surf internet until I leave, or pretend to work for another half hour.

5:00pm: definitely surfing the internet pointlessly.

6:00pm: Clock out.

This is also mixed with excessive trips to the bathroom, excessive trips to the front desk to chat, and excessive trips to refill my beverages (I always have coffee and water at my desk. At ALL times.) Also, I mainly update this here blog, while working. If I’m tired when I get here, I’ll usually do it during the AM hours, if I’m awake when I arrive, I’ll do it in the PM hours when I’m out of all my random works. I’d say I’m a pretty exemplary employee, wouldn’t you?

In the last two days, I actually haven’t surfed the internet as much. Because I was reading a book. While working. I finished that “book” today. I say “book” because it was (a) downloaded from the internet, so it’s really not a book, (b) only a partial draft of the book, because it will never be published. It was leaked out on the internet before it was completed, so the author decided never to finish it. (c) um…it wasn’t really a book.

I’ve been reading Midnight Sun while simultaneously working. It…actually was easier than it sounds. I not only completed a ton of work, but also read the entire thing in one and a half work days.

This whole work/reading thing brings us to all three of the forewarned (definite)(work was not definite, but I figured it would be) topics: Twilight, Bodily Functions, and Sleep Talking.

I’ll start with bodily functions.

Remember how I said I always have coffee and water at my desk? Well, today…I’ve actually been drinking them. Constantly. As soon as one cup of either is finished, BAM! Back to the kitchen for more! My bladder hates me right now. HAAAAATES me. I have been to the bathroom at least twice an hour, all day. SERIOUSLY.

Now, that’s enough about that.

(except, and I have to share this because I’m Just That Way, my urine smells like coffee. I’m sure my blood tastes like coffee. Come bite my neck, vampy!)

This leads us to Sleep Talking and Twilight.

After Speedle and I saw the movie of Twilight, he became interested in the books. In fact…we had to IMMEDIATELY go and buy the first book (I had read all of them, but only owned the last two.) Speedle then debated whether he would read Twilight first, or Needful Things (Stephen King). He decided to read Needful Things, and lend Twilight to his mom.

When he finally started reading it, he became a man possessed. It’s almost all he talks about, he keeps asking me questions, and trying to get me to spoil the book for him. He asks questions that I cannot answer, and no other reader could. A typical end to our evening entails me sitting on the couch, and him curled up next/on/under/with me reading.

He started reading Breaking Dawn last night (the final book in the series). I went to bed, shortly, after he started reading. I wanted to get to work EARLY (which…ended up being 9:30am). Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke to:

Sleeping Speedle: BREAKING!

I jumped, slightly startled, and then tried to see if he was awake or not.

He was not.

Self: What babe?

Speedle: mmfrglb. Mmmdwn.

Self: Breaking what?!

Speedle: MMRGRFLB.

Self: Breaking glass?

Speedle: no…mmrrwlb mff

Self: Breaking bones?

Speedle: nuhuh…mmrrrrr hmmmm

Self: Breaking UP!??!

Speedle: NO! [exasperated sigh] Breaking DAWN!

Self: [sigh of relief] What about Breaking Dawn, babe?

Speedle: mmmmmmmmvvvvvaaaampires

I asked him a few other questions, but only got mumbles and murmurs from then on out.

I, myself, rarely sleep talk. The most recent incident, I fell asleep on the couch.

Speedle: Jesse? C’mon! let’s go to bed…

Self: mufflleeremmp pm nodda looooooom (or something, I don’t know! I was asleep!)

Speedle: What was that?

Self: NO!

Speedle: no, what did you say?

Self: I don’t wanna sayyyyy

Speedle: why not?

Self: mmmmm cuzz you’llllll make fffffUN of me.

And then I woke up. I’m glad I never repeated myself. Even Sleep-Jesse knows when to keep his mouth shut.

The time before that, no one was there to witness. Well, Speedle was, but he was in a dead sleep. I actually woke myself up, sleep talking.

I came to, angrily pointing at my cat, Leo, and shouting “FUCK the dictionary! It just thinks SO GOD DAMN SMART!”

Apparently I have a problem with Merriam-Webster and all the knowledge and words the dictionary knows.

Oh look  at that! It’s almost time for me to go home!

Holycrapihavetopeebye!

This is most likely due to the fact that neither of us really like to work, at work, so she’s probably sitting up front and pulling her hair out from boredom. Typically, we draw each other pictures and amuse ourselves with reading blogs, checking Facebook, and generally goofing off.

Somehow, this has gone almost completely unnoticed by our supervisors.

So I’m going to display some of the artwork that I have created while bored at work.

But first! I must tell you tales of the weekend!

Early on Saturday, I dislocated my shoulder! How? I don’t know!

I was laying on the couch, with my arms above my head, and talking to Speedle. I went to put my arms down, and the left one…um, well…it didn’t go down…it sort of went, um, wrong. I don’t really know how to describe it, but all of a sudden, it was somewhere no human arm should go. I was able to get it back in it’s socket quickly enough, but the resulting pain was excruciating for about ten minutes. Now it’s just mildly sore.

I had to go to a bachelorette party, Saturday night. We all drank punch, and ate the food catered by Qdoba. Normally, I hate shower/bachelorette party games, but the maid of honor had actually organized something kind of cute. She videotaped an interview with the groom, where she asked 20 questions about his fiancée, how they met, anniversaries, etc. This video was then played at the party. She would stop the tape before the groom could answer, and Becky would have to answer the question first. If their answers differed (regardless of who was right or wrong) she, and one other person of her choosing, had to take a drink.

It was actually pretty funny. Their answers were either spot on, or waaaay off.

The party was going to relocate to a bar, but I had to go to a co-worker’s birthday party. This was held at a red-neck-ish karaoke bar. The Receptionist and I sat next to eachother, in hopes of preserving our sanity from the antics of drunk co-workers. One girl brought her boyfriend who USED to work with us. We’ll call him Hank.

Hank, apparently, had a pint of vodka in his coat, which he poured into his glass of coke. Hank was ALSO buying beer towers. Hank was also WASTED. And OBNOXIOUS. And all sorts of bat shit out of control.

He started yelling at the karaoke singers, dancing like an epileptic turret’s patient, and saying some of the most random things I’ve ever heard.

At one point, he turned to me and said, “Football’s some good shit.”

I replied with a sarcastic “is it? Really?”

He then proceeded to tell me exactly why he thought it was “good shit” and then started talking about the Cardinals, which then turned into little red birds attacking him.

I found it funny that he chose ME of all people to talk sports with.

He ordered another beer tower, and the two glasses that accompanied it were stacked together. In his drunken attempts at getting the two glasses apart, he slammed them down on the table. This did, in fact, work. However, unbeknownst to us, a shard of glass from the bottom of the top glass broke off, and was now nestled at the bottom of the bottom glass.

At some point I decided that Hank should be cut off, and I could help out by stealing some of his beer. I filled my glass and drank most of it up. When I finished, I noticed the glass chilling at the bottom of the cup.

“um, do you think that’s ice…or glass?” I asked, fairly certain that it was glass.

Naturally, I reached into the glass and pulled it out.

“yep…that’s glass. Sweet…maybe I can get some free stuff.”

Eventually I flagged down the waitress, and she decided that the next beer tower would be on the house. Now…I like beer well enough, but most of the time I prefer to drink liquor. Especially because a tower of Miller Lite didn’t really seem like it would hit the spot. As the waitress walked by again, I asked her “um, I’m not the biggest beer drinker. Could I just get a gianormous rum and coke instead?”

She told me “sure!” and went off to do her waitressy thing.

…my rum and coke? The gianormous one? Was the SAME….SIZE. It wasn’t gianormous at all! Apparently, instead of getting me something gianormous, management decided that paying off my tab would be equal and fair treatment. I did not complain.

Hurray free drinks and potential health hazards caused by drunken fools!

Now! Onto office artwork!

what normally happens after work

monotony

tesseract/hyper-cube

a work in progress

i has teh anger

a fun comic

drawn on post-its

now, all of these, except for the last one, were done completely in Microsoft Paint. No clip art was used…which shows you how much time i have on my hands.

There Receptionist! I updated! HAPPY!?!?

Anyway, Kevin was the only one to vote on yesterday’s list. He is one of the three reader’s, clearly. Willimu and The Receptionist are the others. I’m glad I can mildly amuse three people, but think of all the other possibilities! I could entertain tens of hundreds with my mediocre blogging! TENS!

But, I must appease my fan(s), so I shall now dig into the suggestion box, and pull up the one suggestion. Kevin stated it was a toss up of buildings exploding, or The Time I Got Thrown Across a Bar. I don’t normally go around blowing up buildings, and this was no exception. I really didn’t have much to do with THIS except for the fact that It’s very close to where I lived, and I frequent many of the places around it.

I mean, The Pita House has the best Falafel. Szechwan Garden has the best crispy duck. Yesterdog has the best chili dogs, Morningstar is the best 24 hour coffee shop that allows smoking, and and…so much! Hookah Lounge! Wolfgangs! All could’ve been DESTROYED. (…not really) Basically, the exploding building was one of the only buildings that I didn’t care about. Go me!

What I’m getting at, is that I don’t really know all the details, so go read THAT article. I was at work when it happened, but my house was just BLOCKS away.

This, of course, means that I’m going to write about getting thrown across a bar. Coincidentally, the bar that it happened in, is on the same street (and very close to) to the building that went boom. I tend to stay local, if you haven’t noticed.

One fateful night, shortly after Ewam turned 21, we decided to have a guys night out at Mulligan’s Pub. Mulligan’s is kind of a dive bar, full of metal-heads, emo kids, and scene-sters. I don’t think I ever quite fit any of those categories, but I find them endlessly amusing. Scenesters just love to get drunk and have deep pseudo-philosophical conversations. And I love to watch.

Regardless, they have $4 pitchers and some pool tables…sooo…we were all set. Ewam, DB, Machete, and I all sat a small table in the midst of the fray. It was a Friday night, so the bar was packed. I mean…PACKED. Sardines couldn’t even move. Waitresses were angrily elbowing people out of their way. Nearly every other word out of our mouths was “FUCK”

“FUCK there’s a lot of people in here!”

“FUCK! That guy just tried to sit on my shoulder!”

“FUCK you if you spill that drink on me…”

“FUCK! Where’s our beer?!”

…you get the idea.

At some point, my bladder finally started complaining about the eight dollars of beer that was flooding it. I headed to the bathroom, and did what one normally does. I started heading back to my table, but only made it six or seven steps before a man stopped me, and did the Time-Out-“T” with his hands.

“yo, dude! Timeoutimeoutimeout!”

Thinking that I might know him, I stopped, raised an eyebrow and said “yes?”

He started to reach out his arms, sort of like he was going in for a hug. Naturally (or not so naturally, I might just be an idiot) I assumed he WAS going in for a hug, and that I DID know him. I sort of stepped forward…and then he picked up by my underarms and threw me across the bar at the opposite wall.

Then Jesse went BOOM.

I hit the wall/counter and was on the ground. My favorite pair of jeans also went BOOM, when both knees tore open.

(To further prove my immense FAIL at proper reactions)

I picked myself up off the ground, and walked the several steps back to the thrower.

Self: um, that was really awkward…

Thrower: dude, don’t worry about it.

Self: but…why did you do that?

Thrower: nah, nah…dude…don’t WORRY about it.

Self: um, ok? Please don’t do that again…

Thrower: Nah, it’s cool. C’mere

Self: …?

He came at me again, and I started tensing my leg muscles in case I’d need to make an impromptu landing. But this time, he actually did hug me. I gave him the crazy eyes (O_o) and walked away.

I managed to make it back to my table with a minimum of being thrown, and sat back down. Luckily there was another pitcher. I poured myself a glass, took a sip, and then decided I NEEDED to talk about it.

Self: so uh…something weird just happened, on my way back from the bathroom.

Ewam: huh?

Self: um, some guy…he like, threw me? Across the bar?

DB, Ewam, Machete: WHAT!?

Self: yeah…he liked, picked me up…and well, threw me…into the wall.

Machete: Are you fucking serious?

DB: huh…

Ewam: WHO THE FUCK WAS IT?!

Self: yes I’m serious, I don’t know, and “huh” is right…why would he do that?

Ewam: I’m gonna go punch his teeth out

Self: I mean, seriously, why would you—what? Ewam…shut up, you are not. I’m fine.

DB: yeah…calm down. If that guy could just throw Jesse across the bar, he could probably punch your lights out.

Self: …are you saying I’m fat? DB, your girlfriend could pick me up and throw me across the bar.

Ewam: I don’t care how big he is! I’m could take him! Where is he? WHERE IS HE?

Self: …shut up. You’re not doing anything. I’m fine. I just want to know what possessed him to throw me. Like, was he standing there with his friends when I first walked by? I wonder if there was a bet involved like ‘dude, I bet you can’t throw someone across the bar’ “dude! I so can” “unnngh, well…he looks light enough, throw HIM!”

That is, of course, is the only reasonable explanation as to why someone would feel possessed to throw me. I never got my answers, and the remainder of the night was spent trying to calm Ewam down.

I kept telling him I was fine, but…apparently I wasn’t. As we left the bar, and I went down the first step, I almost went BOOM again. Apparently, in my failed landing, I had twisted my ankle. And had to limp the rest of the way home.

I have yet to be thrown at a bar again. But at least, now, I know to be prepared. Whenever anybody attempts to hug me, I have a brief moment of panic before their intent is clear. It’s sort of like my fear of handshakes.

I’m not AFRAID of handshakes, just…confused. I’m never quite clear on what someone intends to do when they extend their hand to me. It could be just a handshake, or it could be the Straight-Guy-Hug-Pat-Pat (this is what I have named it, and you know exactly what I’m talking about) or it could be some weird summer-camp secret hand shake a ma bob. There are endless possibilities, and you never know what you’re getting into until you take their hand.

This is why I try to avoid handshakes. Otherwise, I like to be the instigator so I can control the situation.

But I do wonder…how many other people have been randomly thrown across a bar, without some sort of premeditated reason? HOW MANY!?

I’m not sure where to start, so I’ll jump back to the stabbing incident.

Jayda and I had gone out for a typical night at the bar. We had fun, and ran into a bunch of people we knew, including one that was having a birthday. After the bar started to die out, we all decided to skip out to the Grand Coney (I used to be a cook there!) and get some breakfasty/greasey-after-bar food. When we arrived at the restaurant, I started to walk in, while Jayda held the door open for the next person. I was about to head through the next set of doors, when out of the corner of my…ear…I heard:

“dude! He has a knife!”

As I turned, I witnessed a gothicly (I know it’s not a word, shut up.) dressed man pull a knife out of some guy’s stomach (the one Jayda was holding the door open for) and quick run away. I finished walking into the restaurant, trying to tune out the yelps and squeals of gay men and sauntered up to some of the people I knew.

“So uh, some dude just got stabbed…”

“WHAT!?”

“yeah…he’s like, right there.”

Right on cue, Guy Who Got Stabbed walked in, he had removed his shirt, and I clearly saw the knife wound, and blood, and…some…inner organ thing poking out the hole.

Needless to say it was pretty gross. But in being the idiot that I am, I was set on staying and having a meal. As queen after fairy after ‘mo fled the waiting area…I continued to stand until the hostess was done calling 911. At this point Jayda ran up and grabbed me by the arm.

Jayda: Jesse…let’s just go

Self: but…food?

Jayda: No. We’re leaving. We’ll stop at McDonald’s.

Self: …but…coney? We’re already here!

Jayda: Yeah, but some dude just got stabbed!

Self: I know…he’s right there, and so are his intestines…

Jayda: right, which is why we are going. Now.

Self: but-

Jayda: NOW!

Self: FINE!

Then we went to McDonald’s.

As I’ve mentioned a few (read: several) times on this blog, I have no sense of fight or flight. In fact…I tend to lack immediate responsive emotion most of the time. I’m not sure what wires got crossed while I was being created. Something that should instill panic in a normal person, can happen right in front of me (or even TO me) and I just sort of stare at it blankly, like it’s TV. And it’s NOT! It’s fucking REAL LIFE. It doesn’t seem to matter much to me though. I’m sure that if I worked at some late night convenience store, and some one raised a gun to my face and told me to empty the register, I would just stare at them. Then they would shoot me because they would think I was either retarded, or that I had already tripped a silent alarm to the police.

Moving on to New Year’s Eve!

Jayda and I crashed a party for a minute, and then went to separate bars. I dropped him off at his, and then proceeded to park in fucking Siberia to go to mine. Seriously, I should have just left my car at the party, it would have been a shorter distance. Parking, usually, is not a difficult thing in Grand Rapids. Sure, you might have to park a couple blocks away from where you’re trying to go, but you don’t have to park in the fucking RESIDENTIAL AREA to get somewhere DOWNTOWN. I am not bitter.

Most of the night went without a hitch. I kissed Speedle at midnight, hung out with Willimu (I kissed him several times (count: 3) but…he might repress those memories) and ran into an old regular customer of mine, from when I worked at Steak n’ Shake.

Old Regular Customer invited me back to his place, with some of his friends. I agreed to this, but warned him that I might need to crash on his couch if I got too tired and or tipsy. He assured me that was fine. We went to his house, and made fun of VH1 behind the music specials and had a generally decent time. His friends left, and I started to get comfy on the couch. Then he checked his work schedule.

“Fuck! I have to work at 6:30!”

“Shit man…that’s like…in an hour.”

“FUCK! I can’t…drunk…I gotta take a shower. You gotta go!”

“alright!”

I got un-comfy from the couch, and started searching for my coat. He walked me to the door, gave me a hug, and said “Well, give me a call, and then we can go out on a proper date.”

I suddently realized that I hadn’t mentioned Speedle at any point in the night, and that my attempts at friendliness could have been misconstrued. Also, in concurrence with my broken Fight or Flight, when I’m confronted with a something that doesn’t quite make sense to me…I some times blurt out words that could possibly be misinterpreted.

In response to his proposition…I ended up saying, sweetly “Aw, we’re NEVER going to go on a date”

His face immediately became that of Bruce Banner transforming into the Hulk.

ORC: GET OUT.

Self: I…didn’t mean…I—

ORC: GET. OUT. NOW.

Self: No, I mean, it’s that—

ORC: GET OUT! That just PISSES me OFF!

Brain: we wouldn’t like him when he’s angry

Self: hoooooookaaaaaay…yeesh…

And I left. I have yet to explain it to him, but I don’t much care. That seemed to be a pretty illogical response, even if I could have phrased my rejection better.

Um…wasn’t there something else life threatening that happened then? Oh! Right! Inadvertent shootings!

This year, was the first year that Grand Rapids had a ball-drop for New Year’s. I didn’t feel like freezing my ass off while waiting for a glowy ball thing to fall…so I did not attend. (note: this was why I had to park eighteen thousand blocks away from the bar). So…apparently, in celebration of the glowy ball, and the new year…some people fired their guns off into the air. Now…if I remember anything about physics, there’s this weird thing called “gravity” (10.2 meters/second/second!). Also, I think there are a bunch of old sayings like “what goes up, must come down.”

Can you guess what happened? Can you?

Right! People got hit by falling bullets! (at least it wasn’t frogs?) One person got hit two blocks away from the bar I was at. The other person got hit a block away from where I was parked. AS I WAS WALKING DOWN THAT VERY SAME ROAD.

Again, I was not very alarmed…and the sense of relief that it wasn’t me, or the sense of panic that it could have been me, never ever set it. Aren’t y’all jealous? I’m always calm during catastrophes! I’m broken!

Later that night, before I left the bar. I man shot a worker at a local strip club, and possibly a patron. Then he ran out and the police shot him dead. It was an eventful couple hours for the New Year.

With all of this craziness, you’re probably thinking that Grand Rapids is a dangerous area. But it’s not! I have never once felt endangered, or even remotely unsafe. I’ve lived in the downtown area for about 4 years now (moving nearly every six months)…I’ve even lived in the questionable areas, but this is all that has ever happened to/around me:

· Had the shack in my backyard (a permanent residence to a man named “scuba steve”) get drug busted.

· Had to call the police because a bum persistently tried to live in my basement.

· Had a landlady scream at me, “I THINK they would have told the HOMEOWNER if the hot water was going to be shut off!” to which I had to scream back “I THINK they would have notified the homeowner if the house was going to be FORECLOSED, too. But APPARENTLY you were unaware of THAT, too.”

· Been pinned to the railing of a porch while the person pinning me there was getting pummeled by the drunk-crazed house party guests.

· Peed in a bush and watched a drive by shooting.

· Had a bum hit on me.

· Watched a stabbing.

· Avoided falling bullets.

· Been screamed at by a crazy lady (the one on Fulont and Fuller!) that I’m a heathen.

· Been picked up and thrown across a bar (that…was actually a really funny story)

· Had a building 6 blocks away explode (which really has little to do with anything, I just felt it was noteworthy)

· Had a bum take his Jesus pamphlet back from me because I didn’t have any money to give him. (this is why you always use the “I only use my card” excuse.)

· Had my ex try and hit me with his car.

· Had random people try and join a party, and steal our vodka.

That might be it. Ok…that, um, didn’t help my point at all. I swear that I’m some sort of magnet for weird/scary occurrences. They rarely happen TO me, but I just seem to walking around with spherical waves of chaos emanating from me.

If you were my friend, these things could happen to you too! I promise! I actually consider my life to be pretty boring, but when I look at the above list…I have to imagine that these sorts of things don’t happen to normal people.

So! In hopes of not taking such a long break from blogging…I think you wonderful, and very good looking, people should choose from the above list for my next few posts! Otherwise, I will just refer to it when I’m out of material.

C’mon people! Vote! It’s like American Idol without the “yo dawg,” cracked out Paula, smarmy Simon, or annoying (and gay) Ryan Seacrest!