October Always Sucks

For as long as I can remember, October has always sucked the big one for me.  Whether at the time in my life it's a break up, someone passes, I get horrible career alterations, or I'm failing horrible in my studies, October always seems to be the month that tragedy strikes in.  The only thing different about this year was that I decided to embrace the suck and laugh at it. As best I could. 

Due to some job changes, and living changes, I'd gotten myself in that position that apparently everyone in life goes through- doggie style. Or in layman's terms, royally screwed to the point you're just takin it from behind from Life.

Doing as the struggling hard workers do, I've been doing everything in my power to keep my head up and myself afloat, making other drastic changes like my career and moving in with a friend. Easier tasks like that.  But right when I think I can't take it any longer and think that maybe some burdens are being lifted Life is all, JK LOL UR DUM and decides to go ahead and throw one more thing my way. This time involving the police.  We all know how much I despise piggies.

Let's go back a little to the core of this problem- I drive a '73 Beetle named Gladys. Classy. I know.  Well, in a trooper that old, they tend to wear down on some things. Like brakes.  I've tried to get them fixed before but... eh. Never mind that story.  The important piece of information here is that the brakes are shotty at best.  If I come to an easing stop, then we're gravy.  But if you want me to slam on the brakes at a last minute stop?  Best believe the brakes aren't listening and we're blowing through the stop light whether you want to or not. 

The brakes have been especially temperamental the last couple months.  It's cool. I mean, you know, it's not but what choice do I have? I don't have the kind of money to fix them. I know my baby better than anyone. I know when she'll stop and when she won't.

Which brings us to the story now, and why after all these years October still sucks. 

I was driving on 90- that's the main highway that everyone uses. It goes all along the Gulf coast beach and takes me straight from my place to my work which is about a thirty minute drive.

I was a good fifty feet behind the truck in front of me.  With these brakes, I take no risk. You won't catch me tailgating anyone.

Most people speed through at yellow lights, am I right? Bet your ass I am.  But not the ass in front of me.  See, when he saw a yellow light, he thought it would be a shmantastic idea to go ahead and stop.  My little Gladys didn't think it was such a good idea.  Now given only a matter of seconds to think while driving in the left lane I went over my options quickly.

A. Veer into the right lane and smash into the cars next to me.
B. Hit the truck in front of me.
C. . . ..  hhehe.

Mount the curb on the median and drive in the sand.

Welp. Only one of those options involved not causing a collision.  Let's mount this bitch.

That's exactly what I did, still applying breaks like it was a piano foot pedal, I mount the median and the car goes about fifteen more feet, barely missing the palm tree in the middle, before finally stopping in the sand.  I was about nose and nose with the truck stopped at the light.  He rolls down his window so I reach across to the passenger window and do the same.
"Are you okay?" He asks.
"Yeah. My breaks went out and I didn't want to hit the back of your truck."
"Well that was sweet of you!" He says. I nod, then the light turns green and he takes off like nothing happened.

WHAT THE EFF.

So I'm in the median laughing hysterically, put my blinker on and try to merge back into traffic.  Gladys goes about a foot and then sinks further in the sand.  Damnit Gladys.

I keep laughing at the situation and get out of the car. I check out the vehicle. Yeah. Yeah she's in there pretty good.  Ballsack.  I get back into the driver's seat and start to think. I call my work and tell them I'll be late.  I sit in the seat a little bit longer, looking at the time, and I call my friend who's just now getting off work. 
"Tokeennn?"
"Yeah what's up?"
"What are you dooooooing?"
"Just clocked out. What you need?"
I explained my predicament.
"I'll come push you out."

This man. Is my rock.

But somewhere in there as I'm waiting I stop smiling. I get this overwhelming feeling of everything that's going on in my life and this had to be the fuckin cherry on top.  I start crying. Then I call my mommy. She doesn't answer so then I go from sappy to pissy in an instant.  That was when I noticed the inevitable blue and white vehicle coming up behind me.  The lights flash on.  Now I'm not pissy. I just give up.  Piggies are assholes. Piggies are nosy and twats and have never helped me when I needed.  I'm ready for this fuckin fine. I already see it.  Just one more thing I can't pay for.

I get out of the car and look to the po-po- he's actually smiling.  A really handsome guy, as a side note, but this guy is almost about to laugh.  I smile back, a little confused. Finally, he says, "Alright. I'll bite. What's the story?"

I giggle a little myself. Not really what I expected him to say. I explained the story. Either hit the car or hit the curb. "Well you did the smart thing," He said. UHHHHWHHHHAAAAAT??? I was baffled.  "Do you have someone coming to get you out?"
"I have a friend that said he can come push me out."
"With his hands??"
"Yes?...."
"Oh no, you're gonna need a tow truck for this one. Look how deep it is in the sand. And this is rear-wheel drive isn't it?"
"Yeah... okay. Fuck. Well. Now you're gonna make me call the ex."
"Uh oh," He says, "Good luck."

This guy is actually pretty cool. As he goes to his car to talk on his walkie thing, I whip out the phone. My ex had this roommate that worked at this auto place and blah blah blah, I know. Never call the ex. I know.

That was a big fat ass NO anyway. I look to the cop and Token calls me, telling me he's almost to me.  I tell him he probably doesn't have to because the po-po doesn't think it's pushable. 

"Well, I can call a tow truck out here and he can pull you out."
I look at him with a little worry, "Seriously dude, if I can be frank, my brakes have been shotty like this for a couple months now. If I don't have the money to fix them, there's no way in hell I have the money for a tow truck."
"Oh don't worry about that," he says, "I'll put it on our tab.  Tow companies love it when we call them.  They know they get paid and if they make it here quick enough, we keep them on our list of companies we call regularly.  Since you didn't hit a car and your car doesn't have any damages, you don't even have to file a report for this. We'll just get you out of the sand and you can go about your way. I can even take you to an auto place if you want. No charge."

The hallelujah chorus sounds.  Finally. I get a damn break.  "I seriously have to get to work so an auto place isn't necessary, but the rest sounds good."  He looks at me quizzically, "Not necessary?"
"I mean I can't pay for it when I get there for the breaks remember?"
He shakes his head and has a truck called in. By this time, Token is walking up and I give him an embrace.  "I told you you didn't have to come!"
He shrugs, "It's cool breh breh, let's see what we can do."
The po-po informs him it's really soft sand.
"But if you're really gonna try, I'm getting this on camera."
He runs to his dash in the cop car.
Token and I are laughing.  I get in the driver's seat and gas it up, he pushes. She gets half a foot up and sinks in a deeper sand pit.  I cut the engine and step out again. 
The cop tells us he has to get a picture of this before I go because this has to be one of the funniest things he's seen. Tells me it's great it's even a Beetle too.  While we're waiting for the truck to come, I ask him about other crazy shit he's seen in his job. Then he starts to tell us about crazy drug users. Something about a chick trying to swim away from him in a mud puddle. Classic stuff.

The truck comes and my mum finally calls back.  Back to reality. Life sucks and I tell her how so. She gives me some encouragement and I start walking to where my car is being towed to on the opposite side of the road in a clearing safe from traffic.  Token gets in his car and follows me.  I walk through a little grassy patch to the car... and when I get out, my converse and work pants are covered in those little spiky bur plants or whateverthefuck they're called.  I'm not even mad. I can't get mad. Today blows ballsack. 

I walk up to the cop and he tells me I'm good to go. He looks at me feet, "What in the world-" he chuckles a little, "You're just having one of those days aren't you?"
"Yes. Yes I am. Thanks again... you're probably the nicest cop on the coast. He smiles, "Get those brakes fixed."

Never asked for my insurance, my license, my name. Nothing.  You know damn good and well that legally he shouldn't have let my car back on the road knowing it's a potential hazard.  But sometimes rules are meant to be broken. For those of us who can't always afford to follow the rules. 

Token followed me to work to make sure I made it there safely and by the time I got there, everyone at work was convinced I died in a wreck.

Find the silver linings in life, people. Even when life sucks, the good things are there. The friends to help you smile, the job to be thankful for, and sometimes even the people that give you just a small break when you need one. Shout out to the po-po. You just won.

URKA!!

I don't think there was ever a time where I "became" crazy. I think I was always just crazy and attracted other crazy ass people. This particular story goes back to freshman year in college.  I lived in a dorm that my friends who came to visit always referred to as a hotel because it was super nice.  One that you needed a prox card to get in the front, and it was four roommates that lived in a suite and shared a living room. It was nice.

I was brand new.  Didn't know a soul in Bumfuck, Wyoming. Not that it mattered much, I've never been bad at making friends. My first three roommates were awesome. Inviting me home with them for family dinners, inviting me out with their friends- they were all local, so it was easy for them to adjust to the college life and knowing where to go and where to be.

But this story is all about a little lady I called Urka. She was probably the coolest warm welcoming to Wyoming that I could possibly have.  She was crazy, happy, loved random trips to places, and loved a good laugh.  We'd gone to basketball games together, she was there for me when I had my first breakup, we shared music tastes, and just an overall blast. 

Then there was that man. Her man. The new man.

You see, her and this guy started dating that year.  I wasn't ever too fond of him, thought he was a royal tool most days, but being the friend, I was at least kind enough to tolerate his presence.  As long as she knew I wasn't particular on him, I'd said my piece, and no need for more. 

But then the man moved away. To a different college. Awesome right?

No. No it wasn't. Because since her dude now lived in Denver, CO, that meant she was gonna go see him.

She didn't wanna go alone.

She knew that there were no other crazy bitches around to take that eight hour road trip.... but me.

You know I didn't say no! I mean come on, a road trip?? Spur of the moment? Heeellllll yeahhhh!! 
Little did I know....



Anywho, so she wanted to go the weekend of Valentine's Day. No big deal. Not like I had a man I needed to be with.  Fuck it, let's go see see Urka's dude in Denver.  She goes on to tell me that she's never taken such a long trip before by herself. Wish I could say the same.  I've always gone everywhere by myself. So I know that having a travel buddy would make time fly and feel a little safer. 

We started out our trip by going to Dairy Queen. We bought an ice cream cake.

We bought. An ice. Cream. Cake.

You know we had to finish that son of a bitch before it melted.  So there we are bright eyed and bushy-tailed, screaming at the top of our lungs for the first couple hours because of our crazy sugar high. We made little videos on our phones about us eating entire cakes. It was classic. We were delirious.

Hours and hours of singing, dashboard dancing, and little heart confessionals, we finally role up in Denver.  Her dude comes and lets us into his dorm and we meet some of their friends that are hanging out in their room.  We were pretty pooped when we got there, and had plans of going out the next night- Saturday night of the Valentine's Eve, so it wasn't long before I was shown to my couch where I'd be sleeping and Urka and her dude disappeared into his room.  He showed me where everything was- remote, movies, all kinds of fun stuff.

So there I was, laying on the couch. Wide awake.  Decided to pop in a DVD... The Mighty Boosh. Someone had great taste in their cinema.  I'm a few episodes in, and from one of the roommate's doors pops out a tall sexy lookin' somethin that makes me stop for a second....

Guys. You're not the only ones. I don't give a shit what you've been told by all your gal pals or your lady friends. We lose our concentration too!

Y'all, his daddy was black and his momma was greek. They made a pretty. Ass. Baby. Light coloured cocoa skin with big ass brown bambi eyes... Phew. Take a breath.

He is going to their little kitchenette for a glass of water or something.

"Hi." He says.
"Hey." I muster out, complete focus on the telly. Trying my damndest anyway.
We make small casual conversation.
"Long trip huh?" He says.
"Eh, wasn't bad. I can't sleep now."
"Yeah, I couldn't either. So I came out here."
"Care to watch some Mighty Boosh with me?" I suggest.
As if he just noticed what was on the screen, he raises his eyebrows, "Oh you know what this is?"
"Yeah. One of my favourites."
"Yeah, mine too! It's my box set."
I just smile, and motion to the couch.
"Oh, right, well no I better not. I have to be up early in the morning." Something about his college classes or something. He has to be super professional and dressed up for it.
"Well if you change your mind I'll be out here."

I can't even remember where the conversation went or how it even happened, but homeboy ended up staying out there all night with me.  Something was mentioned about Kung-Pow and then he got super excited. First we were quoting the entire thing from memory, then he goes into his room and busts out the DVD. First we watched the actual version, then we watched the hidden special edition of "What they're actually saying." Talking all night about school and the two love birds in the room next door.

Turns out not all pretty boys are douche bags. This one had a fantastic personality too.  For a moment there I thought to myself, awesome. That means this trip will be bearable. I won't have to be the third wheel maybe!  We see the sun coming from the crack in the window. He looks at his watch, "Holy shit. Did I seriously pull an all nighter? Can't say I've ever done that before." Wish I could say the same.  "Well I gotta go get ready for the gym. You wanna come with me?" He asks.  I scoff for a second, "Oh you're serious? Uhm, no. No thanks. Not really a fan. Plus I don't exactly have the attire. "You can borrow some of my clothes."
Thu-thump.
Thu-thump.
"Uh, no that's fine. I'll probably still be watching some Mighty Boosh. Maybe even go to sleep finally. Haven't decided yet.
"Okay, that's fine." He runs off into his room to change and reappears shortly.
"You sure you don't want to come?" He asks one more time before exiting.
"Yeah yeah get out of here!"
He smiles, and leaves their suite.  That smile.

I finally get some sleep, and open my eyes about an hour later when he's coming back in the room. I throw the cover over my face, not sure how ragged I'm looking at this point.  Some amount of time lapses while I'm sleeping and eventually the love birds emerge from their cave.  The roommate isn't in his room anymore.  "How'd you sleep dude?" Urka asks. "Pretty good. Just a few hours." She nodded her head, understanding I never really slept.  "He must be in class this mornin," Her man said, lookin a little confused like he wasn't normally gone so early. I explain that he had a meeting with a board or something like that and he'd be back in time for lunch with his parents.  He just kinda looked at me dumbfounded.  "Oh. You talked to him before he left?" He asked.
"He stayed up all night. Watched some movies with me and stuff."
They both just look at each other. "Thiiiiibbbbbssss...!" Urka said, poking.
I could tell I was blushing. "Shut up."
We took showers and got ready for lunch. 
The roommate came back in at that time, and Urka's man says, "Dude what you doing for lunch?"
"I told you this, my parents are coming here. I'm going to lunch with them."
"Oh. Well what are you doing tonight?"
I interrupt his roommate and rattled off his schedule for the next two days.
He just smiles, shrugs, and points to me, confirming what I'd just said.
"What the hell man? She's only been here one night and she's already replaced me as your best friend!"
"No, she just listens when I tell her something," He responds back.
I just smile smugly on the couch.
When he leaves again and Urka's man goes into his room, Urka starts tellin me, "Ask him to go with us to the club tonight! Then you can have someone to dance with!"
"Nah, he has to be up early again tomorrow mornin and I already kept him up all night last night haha."
"DUDE come on! I'll see if my man will put in some words!"

The day went by pretty slow. Just chillin at the dorms all day. Then night came aroung, Urka and I put on our sexy outfits and it was time to go downtown to dance! We find a parking spot an walk a bit of sidewalk to the entrance.  We got carded and had X's on our hands because we were still under age.  Didn't matter. This place was still bumpin.  It was elbow to elbow in there. Men a plenty. Dancing was a must.. it was so crowded and so much fun!!

Would have been more fun if the roommate would have came out.  He was so tired because he was busy all day and I'd kept him up the previous night, so I understood he wanted to sleep.  Besides, finding a dance partner was never hard for me.  I just kinda made my way into the crowd.  Within the first minutes, the Arabs had found me.  Turns out they love redheads.  This guy was probably ten years my senior if not more.  He was a decent enough dancer- had rhythm- then started talkin that smack.  So I nicely let him down, by telling him I had to go meet my girlfriend at the door. 

The age old trick.  It's what nice girls do. Instead of throwing a hand in the face or tellin them to fuck off, you simply throw a wrench into play. A fake girlfriend. Fake boyfriend. Bathroom break. Leaving. Whatever. Just use the excuse.

Now in this place, it was big enough and packed enough that I left the amoeba of people and entered in from a different side without problems of running into the same guy.  I have no idea where the other two were but at the time didn't care. I was all about dancing  and just cutting loose.  I soon found myself dancing close to them.  Then there was this adorable giant. Rhythm. Tall. But had no idea how to approach a gal. You could tell. So he was dancing close to me and a couple other gals when one of them grabbed my wrist and grabbed his and made us dance together. Neither of us cared. It was just the vibe.  About a few minutes of the close proximities, and the polite giant asks, "Can I dance with you?"  I thought it was adorable because we were already dancing together I thought.  After I nodded my head, he put his hands around my waist. AWwwwwwweeeeEEeee he asked for permission.  Modern. Day. Gentleman.

That's how the night ended.  Polite giant. Dancing. Then when I was walking off, he asked if I was from here. I had to tell him I wasn't with a resounding no.  He smiled, told me to have a good evening and a good life. 

The next day was just hangin out at the place.  Debating on heading back early or late because of the snow storm we knew was coming.  We took pictures old school on a Kodak camera in their living room before we left.  Then the guys walked us back to the car.  The roommate had burned me a cd with the 500 Days of Summer soundtrack on it.  Still to this day is my favourite.  We said our goodbyes and see-you-laters. The trip home was as epic as it was on the way there.  Driving through Denver in rush hour traffic. I was driving. In a big ass truck. Winning. 

Got home and still to this day is one of my favourite road trips to reminisce about.  Oh, and for the curious inquirers, yes we facebooked each other a bit after that. Still keep in contact.

And as for Urka and her man?  You'll be happy to hear they just got married this summer.  Cheers y'all, and congrats. :)

Worst. Day. Ever.

Given that this happened about two Aprils ago, I think it's enough time distanced to calmly talk about my worst day ever. I don't have a lot of bad days. I'm a freak of nature that turns frowns upside down.  One individual killed my day. My months. Possibly the next three Christmas's. That's how bad this pompous jackass was.  Let's start with a little background that lead up to this atrocious day...

We met at a dealer's school. Classy, I know.  He'd seen me on my lunch break a few times and decided to give me his number, telling me we should hang out sometime. Harmless. Sure.  About a week later I text him for some company, had me meet him at his favourite bar.  I didn't do it on purpose, but it happened to be our first meeting was on Valentine's Day. Whatevs, I don't celebrate that anywho.

Meet him there, jokes ensue about V-Day, the night ends. Asks to take me out for breakfast a couple days later or whatever. Can't quite remember. Go out for breakfast, viewed some art places, la la la, all over very nice, but I just didn't click.



So by the actual second date, I was very upfront and honest. I wasn't feeling it. Thanks but no thanks, don't wanna date. Very nice. Have a good day.

Then shit just got all fuggin weird. He's all Oh yeah that's cool, well I'll talk to you in a few weeks, month or so when I think I can be your friend. I'll need some time.

That was the actually seemingly normal part.... I didn't give shits either way. He was nice. No click. I was honest. Only two dates, you know? And I mean very very clean dates. Like a, no-don't-walk-me-to-the-door-thanks-for-dinner dates.

As promised, a few weeks later he hits me up for coffee. To fast forward this part, I'll tell you it was a weekly thing. Always optimistic for a different outcome, but always ending the same to where I stopped answering texts:

Coffee is normal.
Would start talkin about some other honky I could give two shits hearing about.
Continue that conversation into some weird "oh but you didn't wanna date me though" talk.
Continue into some ... weird... guilt trip for not wanting him? The fucks I know. 

This guy thought he was top notch because he's always been a dealer and made his thousands and comes from money or some shit and moved to the dirty south because who the fuck knows the reasons...(my language doesn't get better from here...) and thinks that because he can buy shit means he can get any girl he wants.

I've never been rude to a human unless they gave me reason, and even then I've had the patience of a monk. This man would not stop badgering me. You wanna play a cock showing game, mine's bigger. Every time.

So yeah. I stopped answering texts.  It stopped a couple weeks... then I got the text. Why Oh Why didn't I avoid it like the plague...

Him: What's up?
Me: Just got off work.
H: What you doing tomorrow morning?
M: Relaxing. Haven't had a day off for two weeks. I'm gonna stay up til six then sleep in.
H: Wanna go to breakfast with me?
M: Day off. Sleeping in.
H: Come on! I'll treat!
M: No thanks.
H:Okay, I'll hit you up later tomorrow.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

Letting that man still know that I existed for that weekend was a mistake.  Responding was a mistake. A Christmas ruiner.

Because the next morning...
I did not get my sleep in day.
I did not get my day off.
I did not. Enjoy. My life.

At about fuggin ten that mornin I get a phone call. Not looking at the caller ID, I pick up and hear that voice. That VOICE. EFF.

"HEY!" So fuggin obnoxious, "Where you at?"
"Home. Sleeping. What?"
"Guess you haven't been getting my texts. Well since you ditched out on breakfast, how about you take a drive with me to New Orleans?"
"Fine. In the afternoon."
"Come on! It's already ten! I'll give you an hour." 
GIVE me an hour? Mo'fuggah I will cut you.
"Fine." And I hang up.
Why did I even agree, you may be asking. See I have this problem with getting rid of people. Too nice to scream at the ignorant but still bold enough to call them fuggin ignorant. Well. Used to have this problem.

I get up. Throw on some shorts and a button up. No need to impress- it's just a drive. I might be able to enjoy some fresh air. I remember my electric bill is due. Having an hour to spare, and knowing I already took the total ten minutes it takes for me to get ready for the day, I drive down to my power company to pay said bill. Not even thirty minutes after Pompous called the first time, he calls again,
"Where are you?"
"Paying bills. Why?"
"Well hurry up! I'm waiting at your place."

Hurry? Waiting? Mo'fugga I have another thirty.

"Uhm, why? You're early."
"I wanna get driving! We're wasting daylight!"
At this point I have no idea what he's talking about. We live an hour outta Orleans, and I can't possibly understand why we would run out of daylight. It's just a drive, right? He said a drive right? There and back? Maybe a scenic tour of the town? Ohhhhhh little ginger. So naive. So. So. Naive.

I take my sweet ass precious time driving home, contrary to my normal Indy 500 style of driving.  I get there and Pompous is already getting outta his car and headed to my door like a damn puppy. Y'all, this man is 9 years my senior. When he met me, he thought I was his age. A common occurrence, older men and myself.  I don't think I've ever met such a man that acted like such an arrogant child.

Walking to my door, he announces he has to use the loo before leaving. Good boy.  Then, I'm grabbing my purse with my ID and shit in it just in case- you know, because everyone gets in the swing of bringing their ID and cell with them- and as I'm walking out the door, Pompous grabs a green tea from my fridge. My last green tea, in fact. Knowingly.  Ass-wipe, we ain't cool like that for you to be jacking my last tea. Especially since I'm a broke bitch at this point. Hence working non-stop.

My broke factor is very important later as well. Keep it in mind. 

We get into the vehicle.  I'm looking rather tattered. Probably had been a few days since I'd showered, knowing me. Damn sandals. Booty shorts. If I was gonna be stuck in a car, I was gonna be comfortable.  About thirty minutes into his psychobabble, he pulls up to a gas station, needs gas.
"You wanna pay for the first tank?"
"No." I said promptly.  He invited me to go on a drive with him. Why the fuck would I put money in his tank?
"Suit yourself." Gets out, puts gas in, gets back in the car with a bottle of water. Only took a few sips of my last tea. I'm pissed. Bastard. Tea stealing bastard.

I had brought CDs because he suggested it. Not that good music lasted long... he said we should "rorate" which entailed listening to a couple songs off one CD I brought, then listening to his.... rap.

I appreciate good music. This particular rap was not it. Not only was it shitty, I had Pompous big ass white boy screaming the lyrics half assed into my ear. Maybe he thought it was cute. Maybe he knew he was annoying. Maybe he has downs. Maybe.

Either way, I wanted to jump ship but at the time I was still relatively new to the area, not really knowing a lot of people and the few I did know, I didn't know their dedication to a ginger that wanted to jump out onto the freeway into the possums and raccoons rather than sit there and listen to the Tubby MC Fagsalot.

Somewhere in that drive he asks if I had a time I needed to be home.
"Seven?" I said, not understanding how we could possibly be driving for that long.
"SEVEN? Maybe TEN!"
"Dude, I have a friend's show to get to. I told him I would show up at eight. I'll need time to get ready."
"Well why didn't you say so before we left?"
"I didn't think it was relevant. You just said a drive. How fuggin long are we driving for?"
"Haha ohhh well you know, a drive, a walk, let's wander!"

So. We get to Orleans.  He starts talking about parking at Harrah's because they're the best or some shit..Exqueeze me? Parking? That means stopping? He reads the sign and looks disgruntled, "Ugh, parking for more than four hours here is twenty dollars? Well. We'll worry about that later."
"Uh, why are we staying more than four hours? More than two?"
"Well I was at least hoping to gamble while I was here."

See. I can accept that. Sure, he didn't tell me, but gambling, fine. I can stand in an air conditioned place for a little bit while he gets his rocks off. But that's not where it stops. Oh no. Not at all. May the wrist slitting begin.

We walk into the casino and it's gorgeous- go up a floor, explore the carpet- simple. Until he leads me outside.  He wants to go to Bourbon Street.  I look down at my sandals and booty shorts and I'm not happy. Sandals are not walking shoes. When you have thunder thighs like mine, booty shorts are walking shorts either. Too much rubbing. Fuck. I wanna go home. I never should have come. Someone kidnap me and hold me for ransom because I feel it would have been a lot more enjoyable at this point. But no. No ransom. No kidnapping. Just horrible shoes. Shorts. And company.

We go on Bourbon Street and my stomach starts to grumble.  Lunch. Fuck I haven't eaten and I'm surrendered to this cow for who knows how long.  I'm a broke bitch and I just wanna get off Bourbon and onto the main strip where I know I can afford subway. He insists we get plastered. Momma ain't got that kinda money, but being a lady I don't say so. I just mention I don't quite feel like drinks on this afternoon and just want food. Of course he pops into every damn bar outlet on Bourbon, falling for the women who insist he take shots from their tits, then 'blaming me' for him drinking so much. Finally we get to some little food place just barely off Bourbon. Still out of my price range, but fuck it. He isn't budging and I'm hungry.

When we're inside he keeps asking if I'm paying for lunch.
No.
Appetizer?
No.
Alligator tails?
Fuck off.
RELENTLESS.

We get done with lunch and he still wants to go out to all the bars. He is lead by women and alcohol, I am lead by the sweet sounds of music... there was a band in particular I could never forget. Well, not so much the band more than the tenor sax player.  The stage was inside but very open to the street, where the sax player stood.  His solo was so beautiful I literally began to cry.  Probably but a few years older than myself and it brought me back to a time I played a little jazz. Then the bastard tries to ruin my moment with his want to go to the next place.

Go fuck yourself with something hard and sand-papery. If I'm going to be on Bourbon I'm going to enjoy myself and let the sax man mesmerize me.  And he does.  Our eyes lock as he's playing. Gives me a nod and a smile while he's playing. Mm. Dark chocolate smiles.

When he has a break I let him know I'm an appreciator, a former bari player. He smiles and thanks me. 

Pompous ushers on, and eventually I cop enough of an attitude and tell him I'm going to be late for my friend's show that he finally gives in.  He mosies on to the car which at this time is about two miles away.  My feet are angry, my legs are so rashy and sore, I give no fucks and am high tailing out of the streets and into the casino to where out car is parked... I know he knows he's pissing me off by now. He's taking an extremely long time. I want to punt small animals.

We get in the car and get all buckled in, it's already eight. I'm livid. Good thing I lied and told him it was so early, knowing the concert didn't start til ten. Still time. But it was super rude and shitty on his part to keep me so long. He starts the car, grabs the parking ticket from his dashboard, looks at it, and tosses it in my direction, "Guess that's your's". I want to cry. I barely had a spare buck to spend twelve fucking dollars on lunch let alone a fucking twenty dollar parking ticket. I swallow my tongue. Can't afford a fucking taxi home. I better shut up on this one.  I bite the bullet and pay for parking. 

On the way home he tries to make small talk about how 'great' the day was and wishes he could have stayed the night.  Trying to knock away my terrible mood, I try engaging in conversation.  "Yeah, one day when I have a spare couple hundred, I think I'd like to come here and blow some money on Bourbon. Could be fun."

The next sentence that came out of his mouth is what sent me into a boiling inner rage. So hot that the devil himself would have crossed his legs.

"Well that's exactly what I wanted to do today. I brought seven hundred with me to blow for the weekend. Oh well I guess."

I slowly turned to look at him all Emily Rose style, "What?" I said barely in a hiss.
Composure. Composure.
"Yeah! I wanted to get out of town, blow some money, and have fun!"
I couldn't hold it.

"Then why the fuck did you throw a fit about me paying for gas? And lunch? And the fucking twenty dollar parking ticket?"

I thought the last statement was the worst. Nope. It was this next one.

"Because we're not dating. You can't expect me to pay for everything."

WHAT THE EVERLIVING HOLY TITS ON A CRACKER MONEY IN THE HOLE OF A WHALE YOU MOTHER FUCKING TWAT SCUMMING SON OF A RATS ASS PIECE OF.....

But I said none of that. Quickly following he asked me if I wanted to take the scenic beach route home or take the freeway straight home.

"Take me home. You're already making me late."
"Making you late? You're the one that was watching the sax player. "

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE!

But that's not what I did. I wanted to start crying. I wanted to go all Collumbine up in there with only one witness to worry about. 

The drive was less than enjoyable. I got home and bastard asks me if he wants me to wait outside while I get dressed so he can take me. I let him know he's not invited. Then huddle into my place, rage showering and changing.

So. That's what this trip was about. Because. We're not. Dating. I see you, you fat fuck.

After that, he kept texting me for the evening, wanting to meet me at the show. I got short with him really quick, insisting I was trying to bang the drummer.  His mood went all "I have money" super quickly.

You can't buy me off. 

Moral of the story? Sometimes we lesn't be optimistic. Sometimes you really can't just be friends with someone after only two dates. Sometimes maybe laying into someone is better than holding your tongue for the sake of their feelings.  Because in turn it will completely ruin you if you don't fucking say something to the pompous twat who's single for a fucking reason.

Happy Father's Day

I grew up without a father.  There really isn't any more plain of a way to say it.  Whenever Father's Day comes around, however, I've never felt left out, or even angry at the fact. 

Over the years, I've always been invited by friends to go on camping trips with them and their dads, or do something with my other friends who also didn't have fathers.

This year, I'm so very far away from all of those friends I've been very grateful to have in my life at this time of year,  but I'll be doing something different- I'll be doing an ode. 

This is an ode to all of the men in my life- father figures, fantastic boyfriends, and even best friends who have stayed by my side- who have kept my strong, shown me what to look for in a husband, and molded me to the strong woman that I am today.  No names to be mentioned, because you all should know who you are, but rather a random collage of memories of anyone who has shown me the least bit of respect, kindness, or a grand gesture of affection.


The first memory that always pops into my head when I think of what I'd want my father to be like, or even the future father of my children, is when I was still in high school.  I was over at my youth pastor's house.  His son, only about 2 or 3 years at the time, was crying.  Almost inaudibly, it was understood he had a problem with his ear.  Having already given him medicine,  my pastor starts to draw bath water for his son, hoping the moisture would soothe him.  The boy started crying even more, and had worked himself into such a frenzy about his ear ache, he started to heave.  Instantly, his father picked him up, set him on a chair to stand on next to the kitchen sink, and bent him slightly, rubbing his back, "It's okay buddy. You'll be okay. Just puke it up in the sink."  I stood by, not having much interaction with children, and unaware of what to do but look to my youth pastor with sympathy and ready to help. "He'll be okay, it's common for kids his age."  His son still crying, stopped vomiting into the sink long enough for his father to ask him if he was gonna make it to the bath. He shook his head, sniffled a little, and quieted.  He was picked up and brought to the bathroom. No yelling. No frustration.  He understood his son couldn't help being sick.  He wasn't angry he threw up on the carpet, just wanted his son to simmer down and feel better.  Patience.

The next memory comes from an old boyfriend, the 'highschool sweetheart if you will' and he was just that.  Everyone loved him.  You couldn't catch him on a bad day.  We were all but fifteen years old.  He was borrowing his parent's car for the day to take his gal out.  About mid-afternoon, I suggested that I drive.  I can't remember the reason.  "Are you gonna be mad if I don't let you?" He asked. I just shrugged and smiled. "It's not my car. Why would I be mad?" Like a Chinese fire drill, he was in the passenger and I was in the driver's seat. "Seat belts," he minded.  We were heading out to the hills- a different part of town that was nothing but dirt roads and houses that had miles of yard between neighbours. It was relaxing, driving up and down those dirt roads as we came to a fork in the road. I was going to drive the straightest fork, and go left.  "Go that way," he'd said quickly.  I thought he meant to turn right.  My mistake.  Brakes don't work too well on dirt roads, and the right fork was much too sharp.  On these roads, you had to stay on them or off a cliff you went.  The ass end of the vehicle spun too far behind us- off the edge of the road we started to go. Our saving grace was a rock that caught the back wheel before going off the edge completely down the hills. When the car fully stopped, all I remember is him saying in almost a panic, "Are you okay? Are you okay??" I just looked at him in shock.  I knew I fucked up hard core.  "Look at me, can you get out of the car on your side?"  I look, and see the drop of land. "I dunno." I grabbed for the handle and opened the door slowly, dropping myself out of the car, and climbed up to the road.  He did the same, being on the side where the road was still close. At that time, a truck was driving by and he flagged it down for help.  Being in the north, every truck has some sort of towing device whether it be a rope, chain, or lift.  When he pulled the car out I was relieved but still had adrenalin going.  On the way home, him driving of course, he kept asking if I would be okay. Until now, our secret.  "I'm so sorry," is all I could get out, tears starting to stream. He smiled at me, almost half a chuckle, "Hey, it's my fault. you were going the right way and I shouldn't have said anything.  The car's okay, you're okay, I'm okay. It's not a big deal." "I almost ruined your parent's car!!" He smiled again, "but you didn't."  Kindness and forgiveness in it's purest form.

In my college days, I'd started drinking. Not heavily, but the occasional party, as per the college experience.  One weekend I was at the house of the man I was seeing at the time, ten years my senior. I'd always been mistaken for older than I ever was.  Watching a movie and coming to the end, I felt the mister coming on too strong.  In my drunken state, I wasn't ready for such things and called the only other person I could.  My other friend, also some years over me, showed up at the door. I was giggling and happy he came, but my mister wasn't, asking why the hell I invited him.  He stayed for a little while until it was too late. He didn't know which dorm was mine at the time to bring me home, and knowing I couldn't go home with him, he asked if I would be okay staying with this guy.  I giggled, shrugging it off. He waited until my mister went into his kitchen, then he grabbed me by my face, and said "Hey. I need you to sober up for a split second and remember this conversation." I stared at him intently, doing my best.  "I need to go home. I have class in the morning.  You call me again if you need help okay?" "Suuuuuure," I giggled. " Hey. Ginger. I mean it." He pulled my face to his to make sure I was listening.  "If he puts a hand on you, call me. I'll come get you. You know better than this."  The mister walked back into the living room.  I stopped giggling. Took note of the situation. "Yes sir."  He announced leaving, and I had no more problems that night.  A great friend to this day, he wasn't interested in taking advantage of a drunk girl, nor was he about to sit back and watch it happen.  He stayed til I sobered a little, making sure the mister knew his place.  Respect.

I had a friend once that had gotten married and was three months in when I'd met him.  He was unhappy.  He married her thinking it would change her opinion about him, to convince her that he really was loyal.  That he really cared about her, but in the end it was her own self destruction and lack of self confidence that destroyed the relationship from the get go.  And even though he called her every day to convince her he loved her, she didn't believe him.  Even when he opened up to me, telling me he liked me, wishing for someone as relaxed and easy going as myself, he ended it by saying that he was married, and even though it's hard, he'd always be faithful to her.  It was the last time I saw him but I understood.  To be with a woman he loved and to prove to her day in and out he was in it for the win, he let go of a friendship because he didn't want it destroyed or tainted.  I'm still not mad.  I only hope now that she sees. Loyalty.

In non-specific instances, I've always had the men who've had my back in shitty relationships- telling my I could do better. Deserved better. Could have any one I wanted and not to settle.  Encouraging me in my wild careers and dreams.  Taking risks and joining me on my crazy rendezvous'. Men that can speak before the act- talking things out before throwing punches.  Not just the men in my life, but in the lives of the few female friends that I have.  Taking them out for dinner.  Standing up for them when another man steps up on them. 

To be specific, more recently, I was out with my gal and her man, and all the other party people we invited. On our way out the club on the top floor, we heard screaming from the lower floor.  My bestie's man was the first to scope it out.  Girls fighting. Dragging each other by the hair.  Their friends trying to break them up, and as soon as the fight ended, they were scrapping again, no security to be seen.  Next thing you know, some random man steps in and grabs one of the women by the throat in a choke hold. "HEY! You don't put your hands on a woman like that!" And my bestie's man goes flying in, getting the guy off the gal.  Even though he didn't know the female, or the situation, he still knew right from wrong and knows that women shouldn't be handled like that.  Even if every one else was standing by.  Bravery.

This post is also an ode to the men who stand up for themselves. Then men who don't let their women walk all over them and also request respect when they dish it out.  For years, single or taken,  I've always been in the club dancing on whoever and wherever I pleased.  Your man, my man, your woman, my friend, your momma, your cousin- they were on the dance floor and they were mine to posses.  The men I dated didn't care.  They knew I was loyal and didn't care to acknowledge when my waist was being held by another man on the dance floor. Until recent.  For the first time, I had a man tell me he was walking out.  Though I was dancing with a friend, he was still a male, and still someone unfamiliar to the gentleman.  I walked outside the club with him and took him to a quiet street. "His hands. I can't have someone else put his hands on my woman like that." It wasn't that he didn't trust me, he had enough self respect to not sit back and watch someone else dance with what was his.  I think I can actually say I'm with someone that gives a shit about what I do.  An easy going spirit, fun, but territorial when he needs to be.  I respect him so much more for it.  Heart. 

So many more men to acknowledge on this Father's Day, but so little space to write.  To my good guys out there, don't stop fighting the good fight. Nice guys don't finish last, push overs finish last.  Nice guys don't get the shitty stick, pigs putting on a fake facade playing nice guy get the shitty stick.  Live life with your heart, and you'll find a gal living life with hers.  Be careful with the women you treat, because one day you might end up with a woman who once had a man that treated her like you did a woman of your past.  Happy Father's Day, not just to fathers, but to future dads, and all of the kids like me without dads who turned out alright too.

Blind Baby

My whole life, I've not been able to see much, if anything, out of my right eye. I never saw it as a problem.  I guess in the theory of you can't miss it if you never had it.  I was under the assumption my mother knew this about me, as I assumed it was the same for everyone. 

I always heard growing up that everyone had a dominant eye. Guess I didn't realize or even care to notice that didn't necessarily mean everyone was blind in one eye.

When I was younger, I remember doing eye exercises with my mum. I wore an eye patch over my "good" eye and followed her finger with my blind one. See, the doctors only told her it was a lazy eye. Said that the muscle needed strengthening and by doing the eye exercises when I was younger, it would learn to follow the other one. 

So now I have crazy independent muscle movement in my one eye.  They never said anything to her about my sight.

Even doing eye exams in elementary, I remember looking in the binoculars and they told me to look at the colour dots left to right, and the next row right after.

"Green blue blue, red yellow green, yellow yellow blue."
"No no, read them all the way across into your right eye hole too."
This time, when I was reading the colour dots, I put my left eye in the right eye hole to see the rest.
"No sweetie, read it with your left eye."
"I can't. I can't see it."

I remember the woman giving me a crazy look like I just told her I shit my pants or something.
She scribbled something on the paper and called for the next student.

Years later, when I was fourteen, I had an eye exam.  I hadn't had one in years but the doctors at the hospital insisted- I had a history of migraines. Once, so bad, that I ended throwing up stomach bile and getting two bags of fluid pumped back into me.  Wasn't until that little emergency visit that it was discovered it was the strain on my eyes. 

My mum signed me in and we waited until we were called.  I was checkin out the glasses that were lining the walls. I always wanted glasses. I was jealous of people that got to wear them.  Glasses for me are like shoes for most other women. Well. I do love my shoes, but you get the comparison.

When I was called into the room with the chair, my mum came in with me instead of waiting outside in the waiting room.  The doctor introduced himself, had a quick chat about when my eyes had been checked, and the problems I'd had. He turned off the lights and the exam began.  Starting with my left eye and covering my right, it was damn near perfect, reading the smaller lines with ease and without pause or strain.

Then he covered my left eye. A little squinting, as I always did in classes and church. Not that I could see anything even if I squinted, it was just a reflex.
"What's the smallest you can see?" He asked, referring to the chart.
"I can't." I said.
He changed the slide to something bigger. Nothing.
Bigger. Nothing.
"Well, this is the biggest we have for letters..." and he changed the slide to something that covered up the entire wall.
"I mean, I can tell it's a 'W' now, but it's not clear. it's still blurry."
He turned the lights back on and took the equipment away from my face. I saw it in my mothers eyes that she was mortified. I looked at her confused, remembering the eye exercises I did when I was younger. She knows this already. The doctor gets really close with some other equipment, staring into my eye.
He leans back, and hands me a black stick with a circle on it, " Hold this up to your left eye."
I did so, and he says, "Can you see how many fingers I'm holding up? Don't squint."
I stare for a minute. "No."
"Tell me when you can."
He comes closer and closer, and finally, "Well I can tell it's three but not that I can see it clearly."
"What about here?" He holds them right in front of my eye, almost touching my nose.
"Still blurry though I can tell you're closer.

"Well that explains your migraines," he says, taking the black stick away, "your left eye has been over compensating for your right. A lot. Glasses can help balance it out, though lenses wouldn't help your right eye vision. You'd need that corrected with surgery."

He grabs his writing things again, scribbles," I'll be back with more information about that. I'll send my nurse in with your prescription.

He leaves the room, and my mum looks at me, mouth gaping open. "Nicole.."
"What? Mum, I've had this my whole life. It's nothing new."
Tears well up in her eyes, "I didn't know you were damn blind! The doctors told me it was a muscle problem! No wonder you look at the floor when you walk around!"

"I thought everyone was like this? Doesn't everyone have a dominant eye?"
"Not everyone is blind!" I could see the panic of a mother.

Then she goes off about how it's her fault. Something about me coming out head up and my face gettin the shit beat out of it by her womb.

By that time the doctor has come back in, "Is everything alright?" Looking at my mum.
"I just didn't know she was blind. I would have done something before now."
He starts going on about corrective surgeries and the expenses and blah blah blah. I have it all tuned out. I was stoked I had the option of getting glasses. I was finally gonna be a cool kid.

Sarcasm highly noted. No child in their right mind craves glasses save myself.

My mum looks at me after he's done. "Well. What do you want to do?"
She was out of her right mind. I understand wanting to provide for your child, but those surgeries were out of the question. Far out of the budget.

"I've had these eyes all my life. I walk around just fine. Glasses sound good to me."
I could tell my mum was still upset that I didn't want more, but relieved I didn't.

"Okay, my nurse will take you out to look at some styles."

I jumped up out of that chair so quick. I instantly ran to the pairs I had been eyeing earlier.
"No," my mother said, "there will be no Drew Carey glasses in my house."
I was so bummed. So my first pair were little green wire frames. When I got a few years older I got some thick maroon square ones. Then I had my own money and there's been grey octagons, fire red rectangles, and fat ass black squares.. I still love glasses. And my migraines almost instantly dwindled to nothing as soon as I started wearing glasses at that young age.  I'll notice headaches now and again when I don't wear my glasses. My coworkers always fuss at me for it.

There have been other instances that catch people off guard that I'm blind.

In my senior science class, we were doing experiments with light and the dilation of pupils. A partner had to see how much the pupil grew when it was covered in complete darkness to when a flashlight was shined directly in it after. My partner did it on my right eye.

"Woah" He said.
"What's up?"
"It didn't move. Like it all. It isn't getting smaller."
"Oh, sorry. Didn't know that would happen. Try my left eye."
"Hey Teach!" He called over, "Check this out!" My teacher did the same experiment on my right eye. Same result.
"Oh. Did you know your eyes aren't responsive to light?"
"Probably just that one. I'm blind."
"Oh..."

Even at the DMV when I tried to get a Mississippi license. They wanted me to take an eye exam at the counter. Reminded me of when I was younger, "No ma'am, read it with your right eye."
"I can't. I'm blind."
"What in the hell you doin' drivin around blind?!"
"Been doin it since I was fourteen."
"You gotta have a doctors note. I can't give you a license!"
I started to walk.
"Wait wait I have an idea. Cover your left eye and try to read it."
Yes. Because had I known covering my left eye my entire life could cure blindness.

I stormed outta there.

And that children, concludes the story of why I have lived in Mississippi for two years and still have a Montana license.

Asian Goo Goo

Everyone has that one band/comedian/famouswhatever that they've been waiting to see. Sometimes years after they discover them, sometimes their life. I finally got to see mine. I've been waiting since the ripe age of ten, even before I knew you could actually go to concerts to see these people in bright lights.

Friday was a shit day.  It was supposed to be my day off, but being a loving employee for one of my three jobs, I headed in to slave some hard workin hours.  I didn't seem to be on my game and my boss seemed to hate every minute of it.  Maybe it was sleep deprivation. Maybe it was because I really REALLY wanted a day off. Three jobs, c'mon. The stars finally aligned and I didn't have to go to any of them? I should have known better. 

But. I knew what was happening that night. I had to stay strong. Fight the fatigue. WIN. AT. POTATOES. It's part of my job. Not important right now.

Five rolls around. I'm so tired and irritated I almost don't care. I barely say two words and roll out. I'm so drained. Hungry. People are blowing up my phone but I don't want to talk to them. I get home, smelling like food, and strip as soon as the door shuts so I can get a shower. Prepare myself for the night.

My night. The one I've been looking forward to.

Goo Goo Dolls.

Yeah I know, not necessarily a band anyone ever gets choked up on. Only a million hits of theirs hit top charts and they have the number one song of last decade (Iris) but no big deal. 

I have a very profound appreciation for this band.  The only band I can think of that has always been huge since the eighties and has managed to keep coming out with amazing music without swearing every other word, constantly talk about humping someone, or sell their music with the the whole worldly mantra of "sex sells". They sell. The purity in their voices, instrumental sound, and their overall humbleness. 

Most of all, Johnny Rzeznik has been my crush before I could even flirt. I remember the first time I heard Sympathy, one of their top hits. Later, Iris, on the radio.  The older I got, the more hits I heard from them, the more I decided they were the band for me. They sang about something different. Or at least in different ways.

About saving the world. About taking a break and sitting back and just being kind. About children who can make a difference but we need to say prayers for them so they actually can instead of being held back.

We can all bump and grind to the pussy/money/weed songs, we can all bang our heads to music that embraces our pain and screams lyrics with us, and we can all drink to the sing-talk about ... well who the fuck knows what that crazy bitch sing-talks about. Jack and coke. Fuck.

Seriously though, Goo Goo Dolls has always had an impact in the musical world. A chance to think about something new.

I'm getting into a bunch of different tangents. Back to the story.

I get a shower. Do the hair. Put on my war paint. Dress. Heels. I wanna look nice. Look my classiest.

Then I start laughing at what I'm wearing. GOO GOO DOLLS! ALTERNATIVE ROCK!! I'M DRESSED FOR AN OPERA!!

So I strip again, throw on my Chucks, plaid shirt, fuck up my hair, and now we're golden. Time for sushi.

*FFWD*

I roll up to the casino where they're performing. An hour early. People probably aren't rushing for this. Probably not a crowd waiting. But I am.

Elevator is quiet. I walk through the lobby. The casino. Take a right. Straight. It's all a blur. I am in a one track to get to the goal.  Line. Not too big.  I withdraw cash.  I know I'll be getting shit. My favourite band. How can I not?

Small talk in the crowd. I'm not surprised I look to be the youngest. This is an 80's band after all. Still timeless to me.  Name.

Name and Broadway. That's all I wanna hear.  I'm not thinkin they'll play songs that aren't a top 20. So those are the two I go in there wishing they would play.

They open the doors. A patient crowd. No one is rushing. Pushing. Not even at the tee and CD's table. I walk up to it as everyone is passing by. I want something now so I don't have to beat the rush out to get something later.  I remembered this from the concert I went to in Canada.

A light brown tee with pink and orange writing. I already like what I see. Buy it. Make small talk with the sales guy as he's not busy right then and there.
"So you get to tour with these guys all year eh?"
"Every time."
"You're so lucky," I say with a half-sided smile.
"Eh, it's just a job."
I look at him half crazed and shocked.
"Hey buddy, you wanna trade you hit me up!"
"I thought it was cool when I was twenty."

I mean. I understand selling tees for a living can't be too exciting, but you tour the world. With a respectable band. You have a guaranteed place to stay. What could be more perfect?

I smile and walk off.

I enter the venue. Big. But even the shitty seats are good ones. Not too big. I see a big arena in the center. Probably for VIP. Bastards. By the time I even got wind Goo Goo was comin here, I didn't even have the chance to get a VIP anything.

I hand my ticket to an usher. I don't feel like more small talk.
"Right there, miss." He points just a row up.
I smile and go accordingly.
Just people watching for the next hour.

The usual. Tipsy, happy women, men carrying beer, the occasional sexy Asian...
Then I saw a group of sexy Asians. They walked in front of my row and through a side curtained doorway to the right. Now I hated them. Probably more rich VIP bastards.

An hour later the lights went dark. A few bodies on stage began to move. Cheering ensued.  Then the bodies were lit.  A voice, "Yeah. So we're not the Goo Goo Dolls." Laughter throughout the room.

It was the Asians that walked past me!
"This is the second time we've had the pleasure of opening up for the Goo Goo Dolls. It's an amazing feeling. We're Run River North."  Lemme tell you... they were nothing short of amazing.  They were strings/ acoustic.

Six of them on stage.  The closest thing I can compare their sound to is Mumford and Sons.  Violins, small drums, beautiful and raw voices... that lead singer could wail. The lead gal had no strong stage presence but her voice rang through so smoothly.  Enough to make up for her very still body.

The night couldn't have started more perfect.  The ginger with yellow fever gets to see her favourite band and opening for them is the most beautiful site she could ever wish for. A Christmas miracle.

After their songs, the lead makes mention they were going back to their booth to sell their CDs and things and to drop by. I waited five minutes before making a move. So they could get out there.

When I got out there, a line, but one I could wait for. I knew the Headline wouldn't play for another 30 or so.  Creating tension.  I stepped up to buy a CD. I opened it.  "Sign it for me please?" They were very humble and happy to do so, thanking me and other fans for our support.   Fans were getting some of them to take pictures with them.  I waited for the perfect moment and asked them to all just squeeze together. A happy little Asian family photo. I return to my seat.  A couple to my left. A couple to my right.

Dear god, please don't let any of them be the type that sing. I came here to enjoy the music. Not to hear lyrics be butchered.

The lights dim again. Cheering. Bodies running on stage in the dark. I don't even remember the first song they played. I was in my happy place. My moment. Staring. Smiling. Eyes watering.  They finished the song. Johnny Rzeznik is talking. Talking. In the same room as me.  I see his face on the big screen next to the stage. I look from the screen to him. Talking into the mike. 

Never. Has a V-neck looked so good.
Never. Have camo cargo pants looked so nicely snug on a man's rear.
Rockin the Chucks. 
That signature hair of his- perfectly feathered and blonde.
That smile.
He looked as ever good as he did when he was young.

Sympathy. That's the second song they played. My eyes couldn't hold it in any longer. I began to cry, his voice so authentic.  So real. Untouched by synth, auto tune, or any other unnatural alteration of voice.  It was really him. 

More songs, more cheering, and then finally the lights change to a different pace, another voice stands out on the stage.  Robby Takac.

Now, for those who just like Goo Goo and aren't really huge fans, people are lookin at this guy like, Dub tee eff, mate? Because they didn't know that Goo Goo Dolls has another lead singer.

Now this guy, he's always looked like he belongs in some emo or screamo band.  Kind of a stocky guy, medium black hair...but his sound totally meshes with the band.  He has a very distinct and very unique voice.

He plays his song Smash from one of their older albums.  Now those of us who know who the hell this guy is get jacked! He has a certain energy to him. Very charismatic. Next he plays January Friend!! Being a January baby, I have a love for this song, also an older one. 

His voice like it never aged a bit. Hitting those high notes. On pitch. Jumping around on stage. What an awesome site.

The concert went on like that. Of course, they end the show with Iris. I smile. People all around the room are singing and I don't care.  It's the song that everyone loves. Their biggest hit. It's not one of my songs I came wanting to hear, but it will suffice.  They didn't play my songs, but I got to see them. Live. After all these years. So many shows passed and missed opportunities and finally. In my loved city.

The lights go dim as they say goodnight. The crowd roars, "ENCORE! ENCORE!" and no one is moving. The crowd in the arena is jumping, clapping their hands. The people in their seats, including me, are not moving.  A good five, ten minutes pass. They seriously aren't coming back. I didn't expect it, but we can all hope.

You see Johnny walk on stage, guitar in hand, "You know, it's crazy that we got this far." The crowd goes crazy, all members walking back on stage. "I'm gonna play one for you..."

No way.

"Our very first hit on the radio..."

NO you're NOT.

"This one is called Name."

I about shit myself jumping out of my seat. I didn't care. I started screaming with everyone else. 

Throughout the whole concert I was very quiet. Sat in my seat in awe. Didn't sing. Clapped on good occasion. Like the first time I saw a giraffe up close. I didn't do anything but stand in the awe.

I heard the first two plucks of that song and jumped and ran- ran down to the area where all the people were standing. Luckily the security guard knew me from going to the club there so much so all he did was wink.  I couldn't stop crying. My song was playing right before me.  Such a sad song, beautiful song, satisfying and relaxing song all at once.  Closer to his face, I still saw that Johnny could feel what he was singing.  His voice coming out still so very pure.

The song ends. He looks to Robby as the crowd goes insane and BAM! BUSTS OUT WITH BROADWAY!! The other song I was dying to hear!! Now the crowd is pumped, know the show is coming to a true end and everyone i jumping and clapping to the beat. 

So perfect. Such a shit day turned into a night I won't forget.  Everyone left smiling, talking about what a good concert it was.

I'm not one to fangirl about things. I've seen a few celebrities in close encounters, seen lots of famous bands with decent music, and I've never really gotten overly excited, knowing the fact they're people like me.  I just can't believe I finally got to show my appreciation by buying a ticket and enjoying such a delightful concert. 

Mark that one off the bucket list. Next? Flight attendant.

GAAAY EVERYONE IS GAAAAY

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Take a Stand for Women

I live in a shit part of town, I won't lie. When I first moved to that little apartment, it was because it was the cheapest in town and within a 30 minute walk to my work if I needed.  Old management used to put in airmen and navy guys living around me, knowing I was the only female living in that section.  When new management took over, they really didn't think who was living where, they kinda just accepted anyone who had money and put them wherever space was available.

Over the past year I've grown to hate where I live.  Bum neighbours asking for rides, can openers, nonsensical conversations about things that keep me from getting to work on time.. just idiocy in the multitudes.  What bothers me most is I can't tell you how much more often I've seen the police in my little roundabout. 

The night after Christmas, Porter and I were chillin out max and building a puzzle when approximately 10:30pm I get a knock at my door.  I open the door and it's my neighbour lady, sobbing, covered in blood.  Without hesitation, I pull her in and lock the door and the latch. 
"Can I use your phone?" She musters out through thick mucus and snot.
I bring her to my kitchen sink, asking her what happened, and as I get a better look at her in the light, I can tell it was nothing pretty.

Her nose is without a doubt, busted.  Blood had been rushing from it for quite some time.  I see a big fist-sized pool of blood  on her shirt where her nose and mouth had been draining to.  I lift her freezing hands to the hot water which are also caked in blood.  I grab some towels to wipe her blood stained purse off.  Her hair is matted. 
I ask again, "Sweetheart, what happened?"
"I walked here," She started, her hands trembling under the water.
"We were at his sister's house, we'd gotten into an argument," and from the smell of alcohol on her breath, I could tell it was an angry drunk one. 
"He beat the shit outta me so I walked home. I been sittin out there for about an hour and he still hasn't come to let me in yet."
"You don't have a key?" I inquire.
"I haven't had a key at the last three places we've lived at." She looks over to notice Porter sitting on the couch and starts sobbing. 
"Do you want me to call the police?"
"No, could I just borrow your phone? I just want him to let me in."
I look at Porter concerned, he has a blank expression giving no persuasion either way. I hand her the phone once she dries her hands.
She dials a few times, drunk dials I guess, and finally a right number.
"Can you come let me in?" She says firmly.
I hear him on the receiving end but nothing audible.
"I just want to get into the apartment."  She hangs up on him.
"May  I use your bathroom please?"
"Of course" And signal her the way.
I get a call shortly after. It's the same number she has dialed. It's him.

For those of you well acquainted with me, I have a very low tolerance for this kind of shit.  The women that are nearest to me, by heart and within arms reach, I hold under my wing if I can because more often than not I'm the strongest thing between them and the man. Sometimes stronger than the man.

I answer the phone sternly. "Hello."
"Where's Angel? Who is this?"
"This is my damn phone, you called me."
"Well let me speak to her."
"No, you have two choices jackass, let her into the damn apartment or I'm calling the police."
"Fine you can call the fuckin police."

Alright.

I look to Porter. "You think so?"
"Yeah I think you should."

911, what is your emergency?
"Yes, I'd like to report domestic violence. My neighbour just came to my door covered in blood.
She asked for my name, I gave it. My address, I gave it.
Do you know where the male is now?
"No, this didn't happen at my place. It happened a few blocks away."
Is the woman still there with you?
"Yes ma'am, would you like to speak to her?"
I put Angel on the phone.
She tells them what she told me.  Two minutes later, police show up.  We live about a two minute drive from the station.
One of the cops gets all her information, then his age, race, and vehicle.
"He's not in his car, he drove off with friends. I'm not sure of the vehicle."
He looks to me and gets my information, "Want me to stay with you?" I ask her after I'm finished.
"Please do." She says.
"Has this ever happened before ma'am?" The cop asks, the second cop taking photographic evidence and calls in an ambulance on his walkie.
"No," She said as she looked down. I looked at her with a crazy face. I knew it wasn't true.
"We've been together eleven years. He's just drunk is all. I just want to get into my apartment so I can grab some things."
The cop looks to me. I just softly shake my head, a face of concern.
"Do you have any idea where he might have been headed ma'am?"
"No. I just know he's not at his sister's anymore."
He asked for her address and Angel complied.
By that time the paramedics came and checked out her nose. She refused to go to the hospital, "Can't nobody pay for that shit." She said.
"It really does need to be set, miss. You don't have to come in the ambulance with us but we highly recommend you get it checked out soon."
She nods her head.
The cop gives her some pamphlets about domestic abuse and woman care facilities. 
"If we can catch him within the next 24 hours, he'll go to jail and if not, all charges are dropped and there's really not a lot we can do from there unless you call us again. If you see or hear from him again tonight ladies, please feel free to give us a call."
I could tell the sincerity in this man's voice. To him, this wasn't just another call.  I could tell he was as bothered by this as I was.
"But sir, how will I get back into my apartment? I really just want to get in." Angel added.
"Oh well your maintenance staff will have to take care of that." He shrugged apathetically.
"I have the number," I remembered it saved in my phone.
The police leave and the guy comes to let her in.  All is quiet for about thirty minutes.

I hear Angel screaming from next door, "They're comin for you! The police are comin, so you better get away from here!" Then a knock at the door.

I know it's not Angel.
I look at Porter, then get up and grab my bat I keep behind the door.
Adrenaline took over and I swug the door open, bat ready.
He was already running to his friend's car before I even stepped out the door.
He gave me one last glance as I put the phone to my ear.

911 what is your emergency?
Hi I just called about the domestic violence? He was here.
I described the vehicle.
Okay we're sending someone that way.
"You really don't have to, he should be around your area by now. Send out the description."
I knocked on Angels door.
"They're comin for you! Leave me alone!"
"Angel! Angel it's me!"
She opens the door, "He was here! I locked his ass out!"
"I know I know, good deal, I called the police again."

Moments later the police showed up.
The cop walked toward us, "I told the receiver it really wasn't necessary."
"I know, but the train caught us," he explained, a discontent face appeared.
"We got the call but the train came through."
I understood. The copper station might be really close but the tracks are what divide us.
"Just call us if you see him again. We'll be on the lookout for his vehicle." He left.

"Girl leave his ass. You don't deserve this. I'll beat his ass with my bat given I see him again."
"I know girl. But I have to. I have no where to go. I can't have my kids here with me because of him. I don't have custody."
I refer back to the pamphlets, "Yes you do. anywhere is better than here. Do it for your kids."

About an hour after he left I got a call from him.
"Oh so you wanna call the cops on me bitch? Huh? You wanna start some shit bitch? Oh we gon' see. Yeah we gon' see. Stupid bitch." And hangs up.
I casually go back to my puzzle making.
"And?" Porter asked.
"It was him. Just threatening and stuff. But I feel safe with you here, I ain't worried," and flash him a smirk.
"I dare his ass to call here again. I dare him."



To wrap this up, no, they didn't catch him that night. It was the next day that his ass finally came back and starting packing things into the car.  I haven't seen her since then.  I do know that every time Porter comes around, no matter what the jackass is doing, he runs so fast into that apartment it's funny. Seriously, you threaten a white girl associated with a 6'5'' beast of a black man? Hell no. You're not winning anything.


Bottom line. If you know anyone who is in this situation, help. If they've been in the situation forever like Angel has, maybe all they need is that extra push. Stop feeling bad for them and start telling them what they need to hear. That it isn't worth it.  Not all 'Angels' in the world (so to speak) have a rock hard ginger neighbour to run to for refuge.  Not all Angels in the world have a man that will be a man instead of a puss that beats on her just because he can.  Report these situations, people. Make it known.