B365V2.101 - One of those blogs I didn't want to write

As I sit here this isn't the blog I wanted to write.  Hell it wasn't even a blog I had planned on writing.  I had a couple different ideas pop into my head about what would be next, but then life got all kinds of, "screw you, I have other plans."

You see in the above video a couple of people, those people it turns out are my aunt and uncle. My aunt Carrie had entered a contest a while back and as part of the contest you were to let your best friend and if you won, then they also won.  She picked her husband (my uncle for those of you who struggle with family trees and such) and as luck would have it they were chosen as two of the winners.  

People who have been around my page before, or even over on Facebook, may be familiar with that video, I posted it when they first won, today I am posting it for a far less impressive reason. I got a call today at work that my uncle passed away last night or early this morning and I was pulled to the video to get one last look at him.  He and I had just spoke at my cousin's graduation party about a month ago.  We talked about baseball and football and next years family reunion, and never in a million years would I have thought it would be the very last time I would see him.  

My uncles are the types of men I aspire to be, not that we all have the same interests and what not, but their dedication and loyalty to their families in definitely inspiring.  I mean to be married for over 40+ years (mind you my grandparents were married for over 50 as were my great grandparents) and I wonder if that level of commitment hasn't skipped a generation with me.  Hell if I date someone longer than a month it is cause for celebration around the Matt household.  Bud was one of those types of examples of the man you hope to be someday, God knows that type of role model wasn't my father.  

So it is a sad day around these parts and as hard as it is for me I am sure it is much harder for his wife, children and grand children.  I don't even know how my mom is taking this, or if she is mentally capable of processing just what has happened.  I talked to her on the phone today and it was as depressing as all of our conversations have been of late.  So there is that monkey wrench to deal with over the next couple of days as well.  

Not that I beg for comments on my page, but I am going to put this out there anyway.  If you have never commented on anything on my blog before, do not use my grief as an invitation to do so now.  If you can't hang out with me during my best times, I don't need you commenting on my worst times either.  I don't need a bunch of "so sorry for your loss" posts after this simply because it is being typed out of some sort of social obligation, on this end of things it would come across as shallow, tacky and meaningless.

B365V2.100 - Drigged, Dragged, Drugged

It all began back in 5th or 6th grade, I am not sure quite which year in school I was in at the time.  Perhaps this is an early indicator of Alzheimer's, who knows.  But our school received a new student, one Robert Walker.  As time and years would pass Bob became one of if not my closest friend in school.  We did nerdy things together (before being a nerd became so trendy).  We held personal political debates at our lunch table in the cafeteria, we both were way active in student council, so much so that we were both selected to attend the National Association of Student Councils conferences in 1986 (Oklahoma City) and 1987 (Buffalo).  We both signed up to receive religious mailings from the Worldwide Church of God and its wacko founder Herbert W Armstrong. The mailings consisted of their attempt to convince people that the Catholic Church was actually the church of Satan.  We did the morning PA announcements together at school.  And our senior year we were co recipients of the Elderton High School Outstanding Leadership Award.

Bob would go on to take classes at IUP, I wanted to be away from home (if an hour away can be considered away) and went to Pitt.  Bob would go on to get married (one of those moments where I was in a tuxedo from blogs past) and I remember the post card I got from him announcing that he was getting married, he mentioned her breasts and the fact she was Catholic.  Apparently those Worldwide Church of God books didn't sink in.  Perhaps Satan lurked in her breast, I do not know,  I just know that they moved to Phoenix and the marriage fell apart.

Meanwhile back at the ranch my life was in a flux of sorts, I had reached one of those horribly comfortable points where I was working and making enough to pay my bills, my boss and co workers were cool, but I wasn't really moving forward.  I was working at The Attic, a bar/restaurant/pool hall in Oakland along with my roommates.  Nights would find us closing the bar down, leaving at like 3 or 4 am then going back to our place where a bunch of people would smoke weed and watch Star Trek until some ungodly hour.  One of my roommates was a dealer, every night consisted of them smoking away his profits.  He was basically dealing to pay for his habit.  While I tried it a few times, weed never did anything for me, save for give me a headache, so it wasn't really my cup of tea.

Anyway I get an unexpected call from Bob one day, he is coming back to the area and wants the meet up.  Of course I am cool with that, but then he drops the bombshell.  He wants to do cocaine because he has never tried it (neither had I at that point) and he wanted to do it around people he could trust.  So if ever I lead you into a life of debauchery, you can blame it on my trusting face.  Bob asks me if I could arrange this on his visit.  Ahem, I am living with a drug dealer, arrangements can be made.

Now I don't know what the current market of cocaine is, or how much we had back got for our investment but I think we had gathered up like $100 for this enterprise.  And my roommate secured the cocaine needed as well as a little inhaler type thing, so rather than us being rank amateurs cutting lines and trying to snort it off of a bunch of obscure surfaces, this thing you just tapped out a "bump", then held it up to your nostril and inhaled.  The wonders of modern technology indeed.

Bob comes to visit, he borrowed his parents car and made the drive from their place to Pittsburgh.  We met up and decided to go drinking, so we went to The Attic, where I knew there would be a good chance we wold drink all night for free.  And my roommate was there, with the cocaine, he was working the door that night.  We get to the bar and take the elevator up to the third floor which was an abandoned bowling alley (which would be the future home of Club Laga for those into that scene) and proceed to try our hand at being junkies for a night.  We each did like one or two bumps, came back downstairs, had a couple of drinks, then went back upstairs and did a couple more.  We came back down again and a girl whose name I can't remember was hanging out in the bar.  I will go ahead and say it, she was all kinds of into me and really, what's not to be into anyway.  I did not feel the same way about her, so Bob and I snuck out again, went upstairs and did more coke, came back down and this euphoric feeling washed over me.  It was like a realization of a long lost fact, I looked at Bob and said, "you know, it doesn't matter how much I drink tonight, there is no way I am getting sick."  It was a really bad realization to come to (though it was ultimately true) because the rest of the night I drank with reckless abandon.  I imagine the feeling is similar to when someone tries to shoot Superman with bullets.  So I go to the bar to get us another round of drinks and I turn around and Bob and this girl are kissing.  Now I am really feeling like Superman because now I am dodging bullets as well.

Upon me discovering this bit of tete a tete with tongues, she comes running up to me and starts apologizing.  Now there are some things  about me and alcohol, 1) it can make me very sleepy (though under the influence of cocaine that is greatly inhibited), 2) it hampers my sexual performance and 3) it acts as Sodium Pentothal.  It was this third thing that kicked into gear as she was doing her mea culpas and I blurted out, "I really don't care."

Bob and I go upstairs again and finish off what was left of our purchase, then we make our way down to the second floor and a club called  "The Upstage".  I believe it was one of their quarter draft nights, and yes the female followed us down to the club.  I walked up to the bar to get us more beverages and the thing about the Upstage was behind the bar was all lined with mirrors, so you could see what was happening on the dance floor behind you while you were at the bar. So as I place the drink order and the bartender goes to get it I look up at there is Bob and this girl swapping spit again, so to speak.  I was laughing uncontrollably at the bar, I got our drinks and turned around and again was met with h a line of apologies from her, which got my "I really don't care" response again.  We eventually made our way back upstairs to The Attic, where we closed the bar and eventually decided to leave.  Now I knew there was no way Bob could drive home in his current state, I assumed that he would be crashing at my place and then heading home the next day, but he ended up going home with the girl from the bar.  Okay fine, I am going to go home then and trying to burn off some of the extra energy I have.  I get back to my place, I couldn't sleep, I may have made something to eat, I can't recall and it was about 8 am before my buzz was starting to wear off.  Then the phone rang, Bob was calling in a panic, "My parents car was stolen."  I told him to relax, I would come meet him and we would go look around the area where he parked the previous night and see if we couldn't locate it.  So I go and meet him and he points out where he parked, right in front of someone's driveway.  I said most likely the car wasn't stolen, it was towed.  A call to the impound lot later and we had solved the case of the missing car of the parental units.

Now we have to get to the impound lot, which was located in the Strip District in those days, we hop a bus downtown and another to the Strip and that is when I get the lowdown on what happened while I wasn't sleeping.  Apparently they had fooled around in a way that Herbert W Armstrong would disapprove of and afterward she makes the startling admission to Bob that she doesn't even like sex.  Now I am dying in the bus and I blurt out, "you mean you are paying $200 to get a car out of an impound lot because you had sex with someone who didn't enjoy it, a prostitute would have been cheaper and wouldn't have told you how awful it was afterward."

Now I know drugs are bad, mmmkay, but my first time doing coke became a fun, memorable, awesome, time.  It came with drinking and dancing and all kinds of fun feelings and moments that if I could bottle it up and sell it I would.  Cocaine was a gateway drug all right, a gateway to one of the funnest nights I have ever had.

B365V2.99 - I'm thinkin, I'm drinkin

Well, I guess this is one way to pad my billable hours.  Standing on 4th Avenue waiting for a bus to the Waterfront, because we ran out of large envelopes in the office today.  This isn't a must have kind of trip, otherwise I could have asked Ed to pick them up, but because it is a work related activity you can rest assured it will show up on my time sheet.  Have to make that vacation money after all.

Just saw a very cute girl come out of the Standard Life building across the street.  I had considered moving in there a few months ago, my lease was expiring on my apartment and the thought of getting a downtown apartment a block from work does have its appeal, but there are to many crazy crack addled folks down here for my taste.  Who am I kidding, one is too many for my taste.

Well, on the plus side of things my iPad glass has been replaced, but it is still not working right. The touch sensor is off, I don't know if that is glass related ( i. e. The glass is to thick in spots or not level) or if it is a new problem with the iPad itself.  It is a problem I can work around, simply because I don't want to spend more money putting this one back in the shop, he'll any more money and I would have been better off buying a new one.  That s an expense I can table for the time being.  Vacation first, nice things second.

Okay I am on board the 57, now to take a 20 minute nap.  No need to be awake for this.

And so I slept, it was either that or listen to two people on the back of the bus talk about their kids.  It was on a need to know basis and I did not need to know, so I closed my eyes for the 20 or so minutes it takes to get to Homestead.  Funny thing about that though, one of our employees called off today, she claimed she was in the hospital because she had a miscarriage.  I can not ascertain the veracity of the claim, she didn't look pregnant but by the same token she wouldn't be the first 18 year old girl with a jobless boyfriend to get knocked up.  Reality has taught me there is no accounting for taste or common sense when it comes to relationships.  Best to keep my nose out of it.  Unless or until it gets in the way of the operation of my store, then it becomes a matter of doing what's best for business.

Our salesman from Full Circle came in today, he is 45 years old and just had a stroke.  After he left Ed pondered whether or not I was next on the list of heart attack victims.  Certainly I fit the profile, I am high strung, I smoke, I don't watch my diet, I come from a family of people with heart conditions.  So of course I laugh off the suggestion by saying it is impossible, in order to have a heart attack you must have a heart.

Not that this was the first time I have laughed off something serious at work.  There was the day a couple of years ago where someone beat the shit out of me outside the store and the first words out of my mouth were "Well, there goes another satisfied customer."

On board the 61 D headed home, I guess I can turn of the work meter now.  9 hours closer to vacation, and I got to run a personal errand in the process,  picked up some red onions, green peppers, poblanos and some tomato sauce for my chili.  I bought some cleaning supplies for ye olde apartment as well.

I should have looked to see what was playing at the movie theater while I was here, the last movie I saw was the Avengers flick.  Not that I am a huge movie buff or anything, but once in a while a movie provides a little escapism for a couple of hours.  And really when I get home there isn't much for me to do, unless I do make chili tonight.

Have you ever watched a TV show and made up your own back story for it.  Like for me there is the Dukes of Hazzard and my theory that Uncle Jesse was either a pot farmer or a pimp.  Let's be honest here, nobody  had a job in that family, they lived on a farm with no viable cash crop.  Daisy's job consisted of being a part time waitress in a bar with no customers, so Jesse was either growing pot or pimping her out.  Because they never seemed to lack for gas money to go riding all over the countryside.  Or, and this will scare all of the Republicans in the reading audience, they were living on welfare.  And what a fine job the social safety net did to, they had just as many jobs when the show went off the air as when it first started.  Hell Cooter at least had a garage but Bo and Luke never even filled out a fucking job application.  Just saying.

Okay I made it home and meandered to Uncle Jimmy's to have a few pops.  Or Yuenglings if you prefer.  I just didn't want to sit around the apartment all night and this seemed like a good alternative.  I have been talking to Mike, the owner and bartender tonight about football.  Still beats sitting at home.

Okay I bought a round for some regulars ( cue the Replacements song) but I am reaching the point where I should call it a night, before I say something I will end up regretting in the morning. The truth serum known as alcohol is taking effect now.

And suddenly the conversation in the bar has switched to girls with mustaches.  Whew for me and truth serum.  Never have I wished for a change in conversation more than that.

I made it home without bearing my soul, but then again if I don't have a heart why would I have a soul either.  Far better things for me to figure out than that riddle.  Good night.