smack my bitch (of a roommate) up

After my pleasant evening out with Scott, I expected to come home to some sort of chaos. Alex had decided to go out to JR's this evening. This is a fun equation that I am very familiar with. Take one socially awkward gay-boy, throw in a low tolerance for cheap booze and give it a twist of self-medication of prescription pills and weed. This gives us the end result of an apartment that is torn apart, a stereo turned up as high as it will go, and said gay boy passed the fuck out on his bed with all the lights still on. Good times.

When I got home, I saw that the TV was on as I opened the door. What I was not prepared for was the aroma of weed that would beat me about the face as if I owed it money. I walk into the living room to confront Alex for smoking outside of his room. Much to my surprise, Alex was not alone. No, this isn't surprising in and of itself. What was surprising that the TWO, count them 1-2, guys were not illegal latin immigrants. Holy white boys Gayman!

I located Alex, nearly passed out, on the couch. I said to him, "So, we smoke in the living room now?" His response? "Oh, I wasn't aware that this room belonged to your friend". He is so fucking lucky that I didn't walk over there and slap that shit-eating grin right off of his face. Instead, I walked back out of the room and started fuming. A few calls, and some aggressively folded laundry later, his friends left. As soon as the door shut behind them, I went to Alex's room to talk.

I knocked on his door and he told me to come in. He was already in bed with the lights off when I came in. I told him that I did not appreciate the way that he just disrespected me and to never do that again. He, of course, has no clue what I am talking about. I tell him why I am pissed and his response, instead of an apology, is to say that he has tolerated Nick staying on our couch for the last two months. First of all, this has not one fucking thing to do with Nick staying with us. This has everything to do with you showing ME no respect whatsoever. I have said from the day that we moved in together that I didn't want ANYONE smoking in the house. If he was going to smoke weed, I wanted him to do that shit in his room with the door closed. For a long time, he followed that and respected my request. Recently, he has been lax in that though. Not any more.

You see, I still have to live in this apartment after you move out in ten days. Please try and respect me and the fact that I will continue to live here even after you move out. His weird sense of logic then assumes that I am pissed that he had someone over to the house. Actually no. I couldn't care about that. In fact, I am happy that your awkward ass was able to make some equally freakish friends. That just means that you will be bugging me that much less when you want to go out.

I know this may come as a surprise to some of you reading this, but I really can't fucking wait for him to move out. November 29th and 30th cannot get here soon enough.

all that jazz

Tonight I went on date number two with Scott. We went to Blue's Alley to see Maynard Ferguson, the jazz trumpeter, and it was fantastic. I was absolutely floored by how amazing he plays and the notes he can hit. It really made me miss playing the trumpet myself. I played the trumpet for eight years, from late elementary through my first year of college.

Some days I really miss that artistic release, but then I remember that I could never be bothered to actually practice and am over it. I definitely enjoyed the atmosphere and the amazing musicians that accompanied him. I will have to keep my eye on the paper and see if any other good musicians are coming through town.

The date itself went well. We met up an hour before the show and chatted over some drinks. We have plans to see each other again after Thanksgiving, so we'll see. Now, a completely different story is what I discovered when I got home. That is forth-coming in another blog. I refuse to sully this post with the negative energy and profanity that is about to spew from my fingers.

like it or not

Today marks two weeks until Alex finally moves out of the apartment and out of my every day life for good. I really can't wait to be rid of him. Each day I go home and it seems that his mere presence is enough to infuriate me. I just need for him to be gone. Every little thing he does annoys the shit out of me. I cannot wait for him to live on his own and to see what a slob and a train-wreck he is to live with. It will be interesting to see what his place looks like with no one to come along and pick up after him.

Sure, I shouldn't be picking up after him right now. But, my OCD does not permit that at all. I can't stand it when the kitchen, bathroom or living room are a mess. The next two weeks are going to be a real test for me. As he starts packing up all of his shit, the apartment is going to an absolute mess. It is just a few more weeks though. I just need to keep telling myself that.

So, in my absence, Nick and I lived like rock stars for a week. We went out almost every night for at least a drink or two. No one can say that Birthday Extravaganza was dull. A few quick highlights from the week of festivities. Everyone's favorite seems to be me sneaking out of JR's into a cab because I knew that I couldn't do one more shot. Classic me moment.

By far, the best moment though was when my dad referred to Chris as she. Hilarious. I know that each of us looked at each other and fought off laughing. I can't wait for Chris to see the picture of him passed out on the couch.

Saturday brunch at my parents was also a big success. After a ton of food and drink, it was amusing for Nick and I to open our presents in front of everyone. Especially when one of my presents was the "Mr. Right When You Need Him" doll from my mother. As I pulled it out of the bag, I was thinking, do I pass this around or what? After all, Dad is sitting right there and who knows if he knew about this or not! Oh well, fuck it.

My family has also welcomed Nick into the family with open arms. My mom proudly referred to him as her adopted son at the Miss MD Pageant. Quick side note, my sister was fucking robbed of the crown this year. Eventually I'll post some pictures of her in her gown. There is no way that other girl was half as good as Lindsey was. Whatever.

I have been really withdrawn lately. I may not seem it, but I have been. I think that part of it is from the incredibly intense books I just finished reading. In the last two weeks I have read "A Million Little Pieces" and "My Friend Leonard" both by James Frey. If you haven't read AMLP yet, do yourself a favor, get off your ass and go read it. I can't tell you how intense a read this is. It is unreal to think that it is all true and that all of that happened to just one person.

After reading those two books, it helped to put a lot of things in perspective for me. The most ironic part of it all is that I ran into Travis (aka the recovering addict) while I was reading AMLP. The book covers the six weeks the author spent in rehab for drug and alcohol addiction. Of course that got me to thinking about Travis and the demons that he was battling. Then one day on my way to metro, there he was standing in front of me.

The conversation was definitely awkward. I did make sure to ask if he got his cell phone through the mail. He told me that after he left my parent's house, he went and checked himself back into a 28 day program. He said that being on their farm brought back a lot of memories from growing up on a farm in the midwest and it was too much for him to deal with. I told him not to worry about any of it nor to apologize for anything. I was just glad that he went right back into rehab and didn't spiral even more out of control. So glad that I did not even try to pursue that train-wreck any further though!

I feel like there are big things coming for me in my life. I have no clue what yet, but it is just a feeling that I have had lately. I think it is partly because my life is so routine and, dare I say it, boring, that something big must be coming. Please let it be that dream job of Janet Jackson back-up dancer making seven figures. Don't hold your breath kids.