peanut butter lover.

we’re all preparing for something “greater than.”

i feel like i’ve gone through a lot of changes in the past couple of years..thought i found myself when i was lost..thought i found a home when i was only renting one of those cheap motel rooms where you pay by the hour, and there are mysterious stains on the mattress, and the whole room smells like hot dogs. thought i found waldo, but it was really that other dude with the same sweater, minus the hat.

it’s starting to feel different. it’s starting to feel like i’m building a team. we’re all doing lunges and warming up our hammies so we don’t pull something. i feel like i’ve cut through the second-string and i’m running with the starting line-up.

it’s nice to feel..nice. furthermore, it’s nice to feel nice as myself – not a version of me, not me on my best-behavior, not me “lite.” just me. it’s nice to be around people who not only allow, but encourage that.

i don’t think most people really know what they’re looking for. sure, there are certain things that everyone aspires to have – friends, family, financial security, a vibrator that will bring you a post-coital sandwich, etc. – but i don’t think most people have any fucking clue what really makes them tick. people are so concerned with image and status that the shit that really makes their heart beat comes in second. fuck that. beat, i say. beat.

a change is a-comin’. and hopefully, if i’m lucky enough, i will be too..immediately followed by the delivery of a pb&j.

always read the fine print.

i’m too smart for this shit.

“thank you for calling rip-off cell phone accessory store/porn account management scam. how may i help you?”

i get paid to lie to people. i get paid to lie and/or be cursed out at any given moment. it really does a number on my psyche and overall positive attitude. i can’t stand lying. i’m not a liar. i’d rather tell the truth and be hated for it than lie just to appease people. but that’s what i do. i lie.

we sell these products for new and up-and-coming cell phones online. when we add a new phone to the accessory list, it’s usually somewhere between one and three months before we’ll ever even get the products in. well, people place orders right away thinking their product will ship out the next day. sometimes, if we already have the items in stock, this may actually be the case. this is like a one-in-twenty shot. if the phone or products haven’t been released yet, we will sometimes list an availability date beneath the product description. however, customers can order the product without ever having to see that date by clicking “add to cart” from the main menu. it’s deceptive, but it’s there. just as our “no refund on shipping costs” and “5% banking fee used to process refunds” is there in the terms and conditions. but who ever actually reads that shit?! i spend my days being someone who i hate.

furthermore, we receive our products directly from the manufacturer (whom we often undercut the price of). the manufacturer can change the availability date of any given product at any given time. okay, fine. but who gets the wrath of the angry customer when she or he has called three times about a cell phone case she or he ordered two months ago, has already been charged for, and has had the availability date changed three times for? the answer is me. my boss encourages us to “just tell them something.” meanwhile, he drives a mazaradi.

then there’s the porn thing. people sign up for a “free three-day trial” or a “$1.97 three-day trial” depending on how old their account is. i don’t necessarily feel as bad about this stuff, because if you’re going to enter your credit card number online to watch porn, you’re a fucking buffoon. um, hi. redtube. anyway, if they don’t cancel their account within the three-day trial period, their credit card will accrue monthly charges of either $44.93 or $39.97 on a monthly basis until the account is canceled. some people understand this concept and read all the fine print thoroughly, but most just want to get their spank on and overlook the details of our “trial membership.” i’ve had some people call that have had accounts with us for over a year and have never known it. oh, you want to be refunded for all of those months you never used the porn account you didn’t know you had? sorry. we can only issue up to three months of refunds. and that’s only in the case of identity theft or fraud. tell you what..i’ll give you one courtesy refund of the most recent charge. wow, i feel great about myself.

now we have this new thing. it’s this energy drink powder stuff. it’s disgusting. people sign up for a seven-day trial of it and receive seven packets of the powder. well, just like the porn thing, if they don’t cancel during the trial time, they’ll automatically become a member after the first seven days and be charged for, and shipped, 30 packets a month. i guess one would notice a 30-day supply of energy powder at her or his doorstep every month, so it’s not as slimy, but it’s still a scam. furthermore, we don’t even have this shit in stock yet. my boss tells me that if anyone calls asking about it, tell them it’s coming in tomorrow. if they call tomorrow, tell them it’s coming in the next day.

i need a shower to wash away all this shame.

i know it’s rough out there in this economy, and i do feel lucky that i even have a job, but it makes me sad to think that because money rules the fucking planet, people are forced to be pieces of shit. hooray! i can pay my rent and keep my lights on! sure, i have to be a complete asshole to do so..but at least we have dvr, right?

i am not anti-work. not in the slightest. i love to work. but i love doing work that helps rather than harms. i love doing work where i can express my creativity and use my brain. i love doing work where i can problem-solve and make people’s lives better. i don’t love doing work where i am a filthy, emotional punching bag.

i’ll leave that to the lawyers in the world.

accidentally on purpose.

i’m pretty o.c.d. when it comes to germs and overall personal hygiene. i am a compulsive hand-washer and nose-blower. and sometimes i wipe my ass so hard after i shit that i make it bleed. i’m not proud of it, but at least i’m poo-free.

i haven’t had sex in like three months. being a borderline sex-addict, or a “sexual predator” as my friend simon says, this is quite a long stretch for me. [1. not “sexual predator” in a knock-on-the-neighbor’s-door-and-warn-them-to-watch-their-youngsters-kinda way – remember: no animals, no children, no dead people. 2. “simon says.” ha.] i spend a lot of time alone at my job. all alone. sometimes during this alone time, i get horny. sometimes during this alone time, i may or may not watch porn on my computer. sometimes during this alone time when i may or may not be watching porn, the porn in question may or may not be targeted toward gay men. particularly black men. particularly down-low brothas.

speaking of, i’m really excited about subway’s $5.00 any footlong.

attention facebookers: i don’t care about your dog (unless she or he did something hilarious); your pregnancy (unless your fetus has magical powers); what you ate for breakfast, lunch or dinner (unless it was one of my favorite foods – which you will know by my “like”-ing of your status). also, please freshen up on your grammar rules. por ejemplo: “you’re” is a contraction meaning “you are.” “your” is a possessive pronoun. “to” is a preposition; “too” means “also.” for more help with this oh-so-tricky english language, click here. oh, and one more thing: the “look at yourself in the mirror and take a picture of yourself holding your camera phone over your head”-thing is tired. please put it to bed.

yesterday i got into a heated debate about gay penguins.

so i bought this pack of stride gum because the flavor is called “mega mystery” and i always love a challenge. i’m pretty sure it has cantaloupe in it.

if you had a “bone to pick,” which bone would you pick? i’d pick the coccyx.

sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. unless those words are “nigger,” “faggot,” or “republican party.”

fine. i admit it. i put the “ram” in the “rama-lama-ding-dong.” happy?

go give your mother a hug. she’s a good woman.

Hand-rolled cigarettes, ham facials and Heidelberg

2/11/09

11-something P.M.

The last night in Munich, I go to the pub in the hostel. I play pool with Chris the Swiss and Peter (“Peetah”) the Aussie. Talk to the beautiful bartender, Steffi. She seems happy to see me. The South African girl, Natalie, throws her pussy and hand-rolled cigarettes in my face. I take the cigarettes.

We all go to a pub a few meters down the street. We meet up with Australian Jack Black, who’s gay but won’t admit it. AJB becomes mildly obsessed with me. I talk to Stef some more. Flirt. She tells me she’s not into women, but gives me her e-mail address anyway. We drink. I get drunk. We walk home and witness an almost-fight taking place between Peetah and another guy. Apparently Peetah told this guy that he couldn’t speak German well, and this caused the guy to go all schizo. The guy threw ham in Peetah’s face. Ham. Like lunchmeat. It was awesome. I’ve never seen a hamming before. I think more people should express their frustrations with deli products.

I get home. Send some e-mails. Pass out.

HEIDELBERG.

Get in yesterday. Really cute place. Not much to do. Hostel is scary. Like scary movie scary. There’s only one toilet. And only one shower. Gross. But all the buildings are so quaint and old and gingerbready. Eat a fantastic meal. Drink beer. Interweb. Walk around a little by myself. Masturbate in the room with five other people sleeping there. Cum hard. Sleep hard.

Get up the next day. Shower. Already don’t feel well, and go outside with wet hair anyway. Walk up a steep-ass path to some castle ruins. Take photos. Tell the girls I would wait while they pay to go in to the new part of the castle. My cash is out, and apparently Germany does not except major credit cards. Think I will be waiting about twenty minutes. End up waiting two hours. Freeze my ass off. Fight off hypothermia.

The girls finally return, and we all go to eat. Finally have a doner kebab. Not exactly what I want, but delicious nonetheless. Nap time.

Have more bad dreams. I feel like there’s a lot of negative energy in this place. All the dreams that I’ve had here have been bad: zombies, stabbing people, breaking little kids’ legs because I accidentally fall on them, fighting with Nicole and Cass about London…weird shit.

I wake up from my crappy nap and take a walk to Philosopher’s Bridge. Take some more photos. Come back and eat potato soup.

Now I have gas. Can’t wait for London.

Pained pigeons and paying for poo

1/28/09

The re-cap began at 1:03 A.M. It’s probably much later by now.

THE TRAIN STATION.

Woke up at 7 A.M. Checked out of our hostel in Paris. Had to catch the train by 9. Realize the train is full. Can ride the first-class train at 1 for shit-tons of Euros, or wait for the 3 P.M. one. Opt for the latter. The train station is as cold as an Eskimo’s toe. Without wool socks. Is that racist? I mean, is “wool” still P.C.? Bought a very cool, very thick French magazine about fashion and culture to keep myself occupied. There were English descriptions of things next to the French ones. Thank God. Drank espresso and ate a croissant filled with chocolate. Smoked a cigarette. Took a shit in the water closet for .50 Euro. Quickly getting over my shitting-in-public phobia on account of necessity. Read. Went to a café that had small space-heaters to warm us up. It didn’t help much. Was shocked by the amount of pigeons indoors, eating discarded baguettes. Saw one pigeon with a hurt foot. Claw? Talon? Got a little sad. Ate a ham and cheese baguette and drank an Orangina for lunch. The drink tasted like watered-down 7-Up with a splash of O.J. Read more. Smoked more cigarettes. Had a double Johnny Walker Red on the rocks at noon. At least I waited ‘til noon. The server called me a boy and he a girl. That’s right, drink like a real man. Read more. Smoked more cigarettes. Waited…

And waited…

Ate a chocolate banana tart of some sort. Smoked. Shat again. Jesus, at this point, I had spent 1.00 Euro total…for poo! Finally boarded the train. Tried to sleep. Couldn’t. Wasted 6.00 Euros on a bagel that turned out to have god damn salmon on it. Felt sick. Trains. Reading. More reading.

WELCOME TO SWITZERLAND.

Finally we arrived in Interlaken, Switzerland. After 14 hours. Nice place. In the middle of nowhere, but nice. Went for a walk. Snow on the ground. Hooters is directly across the park from our hostel. Found a discotheque. Talked to a couple cute Swiss girls about the happenings of Interlaken. One told me the disco is “clo-zed” today, but open tomorrow. Did laundry. Praise Baby Jesus. I finally have clean underwear and don’t have to keep washing them in the sink. Yes, it happened. May go skiing tomorrow. Then dancing.

Saw on TV tonight one of those late-night GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS ads. Full on tits. Butts. Blow-jobs and vibrator-masturbation with tiny black strips over the cash ‘n’ prizes. Tiny.

I think I love Switzerland.

Adventure awaits…and so do my now-dry underwear.

Boom Boom Brugge

1/23/09

6-something P.M.

BRUGGE.

Got in yesterday-day after the train ride. The hostel is nice – much nicer than The White Tulip in the ‘Dam. This one is The Bauhaus. The bed isn’t more comfortable, but the blankets are. And cleaner. And friendlier. Not the blankets – the people. I’m drinking a beer with 8% alcohol right now…

So we got here, checked in, and immediately met Melissa from St. Louis and the crazy Brazilian girl. Cass, Nicole, and I walked around town a bit. Rainy. Cold. Went to the supermarket and got a salad, water, and pears. My body thanks me for the nutrients. Ate. Showered. Masturbated with the shower head. It’s hard to do because you have to constantly push the button on account of the water only staying on for ten seconds at a time. Got ready. Bridget, the 20-year-old Aussie, wanted to go out and dance. PERFECT. So, Bridget, Melissa, Cassidy, George (another Aussie – who has bad hair), Mel (the Canadian Army-girl – who is hilarious), and I did just that. Walked the crazy, confusing straats that change names randomly ’til we ended up at Cafe Pick. Boom, boom boom…

I swear, ALL of Brugge was in this bar. You couldn’t even move. Got a drink, saw a beautiful girl, and danced. Beautiful girl (BG) kept smiling at me. Cute boy comes up to me and asked me if I spoke French. I don’t. He told me in English that the butch girl with a mohawk and small boobs that he was with just got dumped and that I should go dance with her. Then I payed .30 Euro to pee. Jesus christ, I gotta pay to pee! I gave her .50 Euro.

I hopped up on stage and danced with Bridget. Then I danced with Mohawk/small boobs. Told Mohawk that I thought BG was beautiful. Mohawk told me that BG was straight. And seventeen.

I felt like a perv.

I danced with the girls anyway. There were six girls – all in the Dutch Navy. They taught me how to salute, and then we passed ice around to each other with our mouths. I got to kiss BG in a round-about way. The music thumped and our asses shook. There was a lot of American music mixed with cool Belgian shit. Good beats. They all told me their names. I remembered none of them. Kissed Bridget (or so I was told), kissed The Navy. They gave me cigarettes and bought me drinks. They made me feel like a rock star. “Everyone wants pict-cha wif youuuu!”, the blond non-English speaker spoke.

The coolest girl, H-something, and I talked and danced a lot. I gave the “thumbs-up-question-mark” to Melissa and Cass to make sure that they were alright. They were. Then Melissa and Bridget left. I said my goodbyes and kept dancing. I wasn’t ready to leave The Navy yet. I was having the most fun on this trip yet. And in Brugge! Who woulda thought?! I kept asking H-something if she wanted to make-out. She kept turning me down. They were getting ready to leave, and I knew H-something secretly wanted to kiss me, so I grabbed her and kissed her. It was really nice. Then I did it again. What a great night…

I exchanged e-mail addresses with H-something and BG. Got an e-mail from H-something today when I rented a laptop for 3 Euros an hour at the pub. Checked Myspace. Drank beer. Nicole is still sick. We’re just waiting for the “Happy-Dance Day.”

May go out tonight. Wanna check out the one-and-only gay bar in Brugge, but not sure yet. The wallet is getting sad, but Cass is up for it, so maybe I am too.

Threw away my digital camera last night. It’s dead. At least I have the memory card.

Paris tomorrow. Mel taught me something to say in French so the Parisians would like me: “Je shwa-zee Obama.” [I wrote it phonetically so I would remember how to say it.] It means, “I chose Obama.” The French aren’t fond of Americans.