Working in Worcester

On any given day in the city you will double-take and question if your vision is going, if last night's booze has worn off and if you really just witnessed what you saw. Today was not different for me. While walking back from grabbing a hummus wrap, a man on ol' school Huffy almost ran me into the middle of Main Street. Nothing outrageous there, however, as he passed by I heard him yell, "Jim, why don't you got any clothes on." Sure as shit, here comes Jim, a stout man in his early 40s with long hair on the sides but bald on top, walking on this early winter afternoon in a t-shirt with flip flops. You know the type. You can almost smell them before they approach. I felt sad for a moment, wondering if our friend was poor and couldn't afford appropriate attire for a New England day. The emotions dissolved quickly when Jim passed by, providing me with the opportunity to check out his fancy red toe-nail polish. Stunning, really, and those ten toes deserved to be seen.

Now, in high school, my friend Tim past out and awoke with red fingers and toes, created using a permanent marker. It was fourth of July weekend, and let me tell you, the boy looked fantastic in his sandals, smoking cigarettes the next afternoon. The color was a hit. Sorry Tim. Our friend Jim, on the other hand, has no reason for sandals today leading me to believe he just wanted to share his sexy feet with the world. Thank you Jim!

A Way with Words

After a Saturday night spent at the bar with Stephen and drinking shots with liquor-induced friends, Sunday was tough. Asprin cured my symptoms, but Steve mixed vodka and redbulls with white russians. His belly was not happy throughout the entire day.

Deciding to leave Steve in a fetal position on the couch to play poker out in Webster, I threw on sweats, a hoodie, a scarf, gloves and my uggs. Since his car is a stick, I awoke him to move his car out of my way. He looked at me and said, "You look like the Salvation Army threw you up." Nice guy, huh. Jerk.

Placed 7th out of 12 players. I couldn't catch a hand and had a re-raiser to my left up until the two tables merged. Sucked.

Another Birthday is gone

Another year older. The age hit me at first, but I have grown OK with it. I am blessed. I have a home, a man who loves me, two parents to annoy and love me, and grandparents to worry about. Life could be much worse and is for many. Why complain about a number?

Traveled to BU's Agganis Arena this week to see the So You Think You Can Dance tour. After getting lost for 2 hours, we hit traffic, traveling one mile per hour. Awesome. Our dinner-in-Boston became a slice of pizza inside after missing 30 mins of the show. Oh, and we were raped by the parking attendants. Full-day parking is $8. Event parking is $25. Sounds fair, fuckers.

Gay Men Do It Best

Met my parents at Applebees last night. Yup. A chain restaurant that sucks, but that is where they had not only a gift card to use, but also a coupon for free shooter desserts, which literally arrive in shot glasses. Way to splurge owners of Applebees!

The man serving the table next to us was heterosexually challenged. Sweet as pie, just gay. I left my seat in search of the Ladies Room when he offered the, "grand tour." I said sure. I followed this man around the first turn around the booths and as he asked (with a lisp), "Are you looking for Applebees Car Side Servie or the Ladies?" Following behind him with a smile of satisfaction across my face, I answered, "the Ladies." This was service at its best. Some servers do not even smile after a joke. Along comes a queen willing to accommodate a peasant on her way to turn wine into amonia. He was fantastic! Seconds later we came to a door, labeled Ladies no less, and he turned with his arms out to his side and chanted, "So thus is the end of our journey," followed by a deep bow. Without hesitation I jumped a small step back, smiled widely, and began clapping loudly. Together, this stranger and I shared a deep belly laugh. That moment defines what life is about. As much as I love laughing with friends, enjoying a sincere laugh with someone foreign is a great feeling.

It is not that I hate everyone around me today,

it is just that I am very annoyed and no one around me seems to have any happy tales to share to make things any better. This is the longest week of my life, and I even stayed home ill on Monday. Weaning one off of Dayquill and Nyquill sounds easier than it is.

Stick a knife through my heart, because I suck.

My grandfather had his prostate scraped out and while my grandmother and I were waiting for him to come out of surgery, we ate an early lunch at the cafeteria inside of the Worcester Medical Center. Great building for those of you who have not yet had the chance (or unfortunate accident) to see it.

Since the hour was 11:30, breakfast was wrapped up and only a few lunch items were available. Because the hospital had its air conditioning on (summer and necessary), my Grams wanted hot coffee and a hot sandwich for warmth. What was on the menu at that moment? Your choice of a fried chicken or a fried fish sandwich, fresh from the freezer! Nummy! I chose chicken, Ruth chose fish.

The conversation spoken in between our bites led to the fact the since Gram stopped driving, my Gramps drives her nuts. She then looks up, holding her square fish sandwich with both hands and says, "this is a treat for me since grandpa won't eat out because of his shaking hands." My heart sank into my belly and I digested it. I no longer deserve a heart as I realized at that moment what a horrible granddaughter I am. Additional lunch dates outside of a cafeteria setting are in my future.