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Madonna "Fever" |
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Hey Mr. DJ. Put a record on, I want to dance with my... D-J.
Aloha. It's been quite the fucking week, let me say. Of course I am already ashamed it's been a whopping eight days since we last met... but in my defense, let me say I would've updated the other day had I not been out of town. See, look at me already making excuses for myself. "I drink alone because it's perfectly normal to just need time to myself to relax!" <3 bargaining with myself and the people that bargain with themselves. Sigh. I really need to work on not intro-ing my DJ entries with references to psychological disorders. I swear I'm working on it.
My God, so watch me realize I have Alzheimer's as I try to think back to a week ago. I'll do things in reverse order for once... especially since it's the holiday and we're all out of control already. Saturday night I went with Sarah to her cousin's lakehouse in Michigan... we spent the night there when we arrived, and the next day we swam and drove around in jetskis and innertubed and all that. Also, there was naturally a wonderful cast of relatives and family friends at this place. My favorite of the bunch, you ask? That had to be the friend of the family who said things like, "Are ye quazy?!" in New Yorker accent... and he seriously referred to his daughter as "Little Goil." When did Archie Bunker become friends with the Geoghegan family? Have to say, a few of the people at this house (and there were a lot of people) were kind of... determinedly aggravated the whole time. There was not one thing that wasn't grounds for yelling. It reminded me of Tiffany and my godmother's family... how there always has to be someone getting yelled at. With this family, I seriously wanted to say, "Look, the boat didn't get scratched after all, and at the end of the day you will all still be millionaires. Chill." Speaking of this family being millionaires, the lakehouse was gorgeous and huge. The deck on the lake had three or four tiers... it was like being at the Magic Kingdom of Michigan. They also had a wide assortment of boats and sea-doos. All very pimp. I had a really good time, and Sarah and I ended up leaving semi-early back for home because we didn't want to have to go home early the next morning. My favorite parts of the day had to be the jetski rides, the ridiculously unsuccessful attempt at "tubing" (in this case, me clinging with what little upper body strength I have to a piece of plastic with a handle on it... as my legs dragged on the water), and just Candice's company. Candice, Sarah's cousin, is... well, she's a blunt, bratty, funny babe. She's the kind of person who says "Shut up" really well. Some things you just can’t be taught.
And on Monday, July 4th, I worked from 9-2:30, and that culminated in Stephanie, one of the Customer Service people, officially finishing her evolution into the world’s most dynamic cunt. When I cashed out at the end of my shift, I realized I hit “cash tender” instead of “check tender” at some point during the day. I felt already bad about that, but then Stephanie apparently needed to go through my entire roll of journal paper to find the error or something. Worse yet, she once again decided it was time to be a condescending bitch, and she goes, “Let me tell you something, Louis. When there’s an error… you need to tell me right away.” Of course when I made the error in the first place, I didn’t realize I’d made it, and also, Stephanie wasn’t working yet. Moving on, Stephanie continued, “Thank God I found this woman’s receipt of yours. You see, (giggles), I’m very good at what I do.” I was so infuriated about how condescending she was being that I just said to her as she re-calculated all my figures, “You know, I understand you may be good at what you do, but I also have to say I don’t appreciate you talking to me in such condescending tone.” She half-regarded what I said, and she muttered as she continued to calculate receipts, “I’m not talking to you in any [condescending] way.” Then honestly, bitch, look me in the eye and tell me it. If you’re supposedly “really good at what you do,” then why do you communicate with others in such a fake, immature way? Why is your “friendliness” so conditional? Why do you even need to assert that you’re “good at what you do”? Christina Madden was present during our little scuffle, and she didn’t say anything,… not that I expected her to, but I guess I wonder what she thought of it all. She doesn’t really talk to me that much, and she’s not very inviting, which is kind of sad to me because she seems nice… but she had to have seen how ruthless Stephanie was being. Anyway, after that frustrating, terrible half hour, I went home and kicked back with some Date My Mom on MTV. It was a “gay guys” edition… and when the guy picked his date, they started making out right there in front of their moms. Also, throughout the show, the guy picking a date would say crass things like (as he rode a mechanical bull on one of the dates), “I’m gonna ride your son like this!” Okay, not even the sluttiest straight person on Date My Mom would make such gratuitously vulgar remarks. It makes me sad (and a little ill) that gay people feel like they need to shove their sexual desires in the face of the mainstream… it seems so reactionary and over-the-top. Meanwhile what it does to gay people is distract them from why they even want to be with other guys in the first place… you want to be with someone because you love them, not because you want to win out over an adversarial mainstream. I know that casual homophobia in the mainstream is a nightmare, and it can be an especially stifling thing to gay people… but that doesn’t mean gay people should be gratuitous for the sake of “fighting back.” Can’t say it’s not a tempting thing to do, though.
Anyway, that day was further topped off by the fight I got into with mom at dinner. I was talking about how my Uncle Jim in Rome sent me a letter while I was at Iowa near the beginning of the schoolyear, and my dad went, “Did you write him anything back?” Truth is I didn’t even think to write Uncle Jim back, but I replied, “No, I guess I didn’t know what I’d say.” And then my mom, in all too typical contemptuous fashion, remarks, “Thank you?” And from there I argued with her about her talking to me like I was an incapable, selfish moron. Thing is, I don’t deny my selfishness. However, I do fucking contest how bitchy my mom can be about it… especially since this woman was the most selfish thing on two legs when she was my age. Sometimes I think she doesn’t have as much faith in me as I hope she does, and that makes me sad. During the fight, she of course decided she was the offended one, and then she went and sat out on the doorstep for an hour and a half. It was ludicrous. I was really upset too, so I just left the house and took the big-ass van with me. Where did I go, you ask? The Bahamas? Rome? The Mall of America? Close: Subway.
So I visited Rachel at Subway… and we had the idea to make Puppy Chow and get a movie. So because Chipain’s was about to close and because Stephanie was still there (chatting with Rafa no less), we went to Jewel to get supplies just before running to Blockbuster where we ran into… gasp… Erin McGurk! She was as shimmery and bouncy as ever… as a matter of fact, upon my arrival into the store, she jumped right into my arms… blockbusting all over the place. We chatted with her for awhile, and she treated us to a pre-released copy of Million Dollar Baby. We told Erin to call us when she was done with work, and so Rachel and I set off again for her house. We made the Puppy Chow… and it was the gooiest bowl of delicious I’ve eaten in at least a week. With our party mix made, we sat down to watch the feel-great epic Million Dollar Baby. At the end, Rachel sure was crying, but that was pretty justified considering what a tremendous film it was. It’s hard to really want to love a movie that’s so hyped as wonderful, but the thing is, there’s no bones about this film being awesome. It’s just the way it is. Everyone’s fantastic in it (though actually, I think Clint Eastwood was a little typically hard-edged. It was nearly a stereotype, though he ended up being a powerhouse of the film as well). Heart Hilary Swank so much. She’s the real deal, unlike, say, Angelina Jolie, who spends the majority of her films and life mugging for the camera. The movie ended up being about something entirely different than what I thought it was going to be about… all I’m saying is don’t let hype kill this movie for you. Enjoy the damn thing. After the movie, Erin and her boyfriend Steve Suarez, an LHS alum from 2003, played Cranium with us. Sure they won. It don’t even matter. Rachel and I took them on in Guesstures afterwards and pulled a come-from-behind victory that’s already being written about for Hollywood. My scarecrow impersonation was pretty wonderful… after all, my astute partner Rachel guessed I was imitating Jesus. Scarecrow… Jesus… fucking synonyms. The night ended after Erin and Steve boogied out, and Rachel and I browsed the very boring online world for a little while. Went home after that, went to bed, woke up today, and so far everything’s low-key. So low-key that, again, I can’t think of things that happened last week. It was mostly a lot of typical hangouts…until last Wednesday night, that is.
In reality, it wasn’t a big deal: just a ridiculous deal. As I’ve stated before, I’ve been chatting recently with this guy named Scott from Iowa. Well. The both of us threw caution to the wind last week… and he came down from Iowa to Lemont. His first words to me on the phone when he arrived were, “You guys have a lot of churches here.” My parents and most of my brothers weren’t home on Wednesday evening, so Scott got to hang out under the cover of darkness. The both of us aren’t pretending what we’re going for is anything more than sexual, and our reactions to each other upon first seeing one another showed that. We’re friendly and conversational with one another, but the point of all the talking seems to be, “Well… this is nice until we get around to doing it again.” He had a really good time while he was here, and he actually slept over a night (cute keeping that from my parents… I just flat-out told Mark what was going on because the sitch was so ridiculous). Scott’s cool to talk to… but I don’t know how I feel about the sexual aspect. Not that it wasn’t fun… because it was. Scott knows what the fuck he’s doing. It’s just that I don’t know if I miss going at it so much as I miss actual sensuality with someone I care about. Big fucking surprise. I guess maybe the thing with Scott can happen more at Iowa. In the end I’m not sure how I feel about it. Throughout his staying at my house, the ordeal felt like too much preparation for too little payoff. I’m just not the one-night stand type or something. Maybe it was just this situation. Whatever, it’s over, and I have yet to call back Scott. Should get on that.
Much more Chipain’s work happening this week… meaning much more Stephanie, I hope! If more drama with her goes down, I’m fucking writing Georgia a note. No one should be talking to me like that at my damn workplace. Especially not a 3’2 yappy dog-slut like Stephanie. I swear to God if you put “dog” before any typical insult word, it becomes twice as funny. “Dog-cunt,” anyone? “Dog-fucker”? There is too much beauty in the world, I swear it.
For now I’m out… Mark just got his brand new iPod in the mail, so I have to spend the next eleven hours of my life being jealous and crying. Still have yet to patch things up with Mom… and I want some cookies. Don’t know what the plan is for tonight, either. Also, I will try (TRY) to get back here less than a week and a half from now. It is incredible that we are already more than half way through summer vacation. I am going back to Iowa in a month and two weeks. If that. There’s so much more squirt-gun fight mania to be had in the meantime, however. And I’m after your ass.
Turn up the A/C… on life. Xoxo, you metaphor-loving thang,
Louis.
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