Why is Sarah Silverman considered so funny? And.......GO!

A Little Stray From The Norm

I thought I would type mellowly about a few thoughts right off the top of my head. Call it an outlet. I received some good news today. The news had me in a great mood all afternoon and evening. I then contacted a key-note person from my past. I female to be exact. Probably the wrong decision, but she always made me feel good, and I had been wanting to reconnect and contact her for such a long time. Her response was not quite mutual. The response I received was more or less that everything her and I had ever done was in vain. And I quote:

"I don't hate you. I hate what I was with you. You were just a mistake.... [What was I? she asked] A lying, cheating, slut. It hurts to say that, but it is the truth. I've faced it and am still facing it but I'm become better than that, better than what we ever were. I've grown past what I was when with you, far past it. I told you that I didn't want to be your friend as I don't care to be that kind of person anymore. I don't have your number and I ask that you delete mine if you still have it. Don't contact in anyway, shape, or form. No calls, texts, emails, Facebook, anything. I wish you best. Have a good life."

My heart sunk. How I understood it, we had split on good terms, and I don't recall any of our relationship being that as she portrayed. I still responded by saying, I don't agree but either way, I am happy if she feels better about herself compared to what she believes she was. I added that I would still like nothing less, nothing more, than to be good friends and that she may contact me if she likes. I don't expect that to ever happen again. I loved this woman. I love this woman, differently than before. I love her as a friend that will always be there. This is a curse to me.

After said conversation via the world wide inter-web of information, I was still expected a call from another female from the past (and once again present), but a more friendly candidate than female A. Her and I met literally years ago now, and I enjoyed her company from day one. That being said, I can't remember if she reconnected us, or I reconnected us, but either way we have been conversing quite profusely by way of text message viz cellular device. Her and I have found a friendly companionship of sense, and we were going to have what I believed would be a lovely verbal chat this evening. Something has come up.

To say the least I am disappointed. I felt excited, delighted, intensified incitement, thrilled, titillated, and all around stirred up, that I would have a conversation with said beauty and have a chance to swallow in my pride and talk about her, not me. Instead I am once again left with my mediocre chilled room, with a laptop, good music, a bottle of chilled water, and my cold, lonesome, G.I. twin-sized bed.

I feel tired, but not tired enough. If I were to lay down my head to sleep, I would lay awake for a good hour or so at least thinking of everything. The possibilities of my past choices, had I made different choices. Thinking of my life and how I was a better person in my past, only with the aid of alcohol, and that I can go days and nights without the poison now. I would think that I could be more productive than lying here feeling sorry for the lonesome path that I am now involved with. I would think about tomorrow morning, picking weeds with a Sergeant Major and a Major; whether that task should be handled by any of the the three of us I still do not know. I would think about her hair, her eyes, he smile, he obvious excessive cute personality that I love so much. I would think of female A and the crazy nights we had; starting with the first night in the down-stairs of her grandparents with sleeping bags and the fire place. I would think of my joyous moments; my sad moments.

I believe by typing this I am doing just that; thinking of everything. It just so happens it is easier to organize your thoughts if you type or write, instead of lay in a bed and just think. Just tonight I have came up with God's overall plan of action:

"Let's make everyday shit, no matter the positives, there must be stronger, more prevalent negatives."

Really God? I mean really? I can't tell what the deal with this place is. I can't tell what is up, what is down. I look around and see bullshit.

Some may say I am just bitching, and to grow up and suck it up, drink water private, drive on. Well fuck you. I want to know why females can own our hearts so easily, even as friends. How can they own us to the point where it is near impossible to hate them no matter what they say or do. Are men's hearts that weak? I like to consider myself of above average intelligence, in specific topics in the least, but I will be the first to admit that female rule is not on inevitable, it has always been; and I have no idea why.

As I lay down to sleep, I am sure all these thoughts will come back to me. Maybe Jack Johnson will carry me out to another, more comfortable, state of mind.

A Day of Shopping at the Three-story GAP and the Day I was Sexually Assaulted by Jared.

Note: This blog may not be suitable for all persons. If you are offended easily, too fucking bad. I fight for freedom of speech, and I'm here to speak it.

Seattle is known as a city with great treasures and locales that provide the most avid shopper with a sense of "I might actually never need to shop anywhere else, ever." The fact is, anything you need, or want, to buy in the world you can find a store for in Seattle. There are multiple downtown malls, and neighborhood galleries of stores, and street vendors at neighborhood farmer's markets. Every neighborhood in Seattle has a farmer's market with a plethora of goods; everything from bread, to soap, to clothing. Each neighborhood holds their farmer's market on a different day, providing citizens with a farmer's market everyday of the week; and providing the vendors at said markets a full time job. Along with these farmer's markets are the random shops that can be found on any given street or alley. Most of these are small businesses that have their own style and pizzazz. Yes, pizzazz. A number of these stores cater to a small percentage of the populous, as they cost an arm and a leg for every single pot, rug, pair of gloves, or incense holder. Only the top of the scale of citizens can shop here, as most people living within the city live off $10 an hour. On the other hand there are many very affordable shops that cater mostly to females (personal observation). Of course that being said, Seattle, second only to San Fran has a large population of homosexuals. My point being a lot of the males of Seattle, specifically Capital Hill, have no issues shopping at said shops.

On that point, I can move right into the Three-story GAP. Downtown Seattle has multiple malls, and multiple, multi-level department stores; Old Navy, Nordstrom Rack, and the infamous Three-story GAP. Yes I will keep calling it the Three-story GAP. This GAP is a great store. The street level is that of women's fashion, and perfumes, and under garments. There has not been one-time of entering that store in which I have not seen a beautiful woman cruising that section. The lower level is for that of babies. Yes, babies have an entire level to themselves at this GAP. This is because Seattleites are known so well for procreation right? Uhhhh, no. Anyways, if you take the stairs up from the main level you enter the male domain, the male penthouse, the…..men's section of the GAP. This is where my story of the Three-story GAP takes place.

I believe it was October. I entered the GAP this day to buy a new winter coat. In fact, more like a winter coat, as I didn't really own one before this point. I was greeted by an overly flamboyant, loud, man-like person. Note I tell this story in the positive, politically correct manner possible. I instantly stated what I was looking for, but that I don't need any help at this time, as I am just looking. I am willing to receive opinions on if clothing looks good, but when actually looking for a specific item, I like to look. I found a jacket that suited me, and that I could afford. Again I was on a budget; I had alcohol to buy that night with my good friend Brit. I can't waste good money on something like a good, warm winter coat, when I could buy more shots of Jameson. That would just be illogical. So now I just needed to pick the right size of the coat to make me look even more sexy with my emo scarf and black billed beanie. Yes, I know my style kicked ass back in the day. So I started trying on the coats in the mirror. The same salesman, Jared, decided he would be my mirror. No literally he walked over and said "I'll be your mirror", with a heavy lisp nonetheless. I was polite and decided he might be able to help me, just to make sure the jacket looked good. Then I was sexually-assaulted.

He touched me in multiple ways that made me uncomfortable and really didn't necessarily help with the sizing of a jacket. I am not a homophobe, but I am also not homosexual. It was not welcoming. I just wanted to buy a fucking winter coat. It wasn't like he cupped my privates, but all that was needed for the coat with a little shoulder tug or sleeve measurement. When all was said and done, I was disgusted with this Jared. He was what I call a fag. Too flamboyant for his own good, and decides that every male in Seattle is gay and will like him assaulting them. I mean what is the deal with that? I have plenty of homosexual friends, who are great, nice people, who know limits and don't ever over do it. They are males; they act like males. It just so happens they are gay. I have no issue with them; same for any of the lesbians that I have known personally. There would never be a time that any issue would come up. So to restate, this fag Jared, acted like what some call a fairy, and not only annoyed the shit out of me, but was completely unprofessional trying to hit on me. Unfortunately, after years of living on Capital Hill Seattle, I still cannot deal with this level of homosexuality. If I ever move back to Seattle, I think I might need to wear a wedding ring to save any future occurrences of this behavior.

That being said, I never had more than a completely harmless one-liner here and there when out at bars. Those one-liners are in a twisted way flattering. That means that a gay male in a city full of gay males, likes what he sees. Now if I could only harness all that positive energy and get women to do the same.

By the way, I know I'm not gay. I don't need to be gay; Jared has enough gayness for 6 billion people on earth. Jared knows he's gay and decided he would share is level of gayness with everyone else, including random customers. How comfortable would you be in this situation?

I couldn't judge my time in Seattle as great but that is only because everything I would judge would be biased. Have a good day.