Hey folks.
Alright, so nobody reads this. So it's like me talking to myself, which I'm actually pretty good at. I've got to get to work at 1pm, but I figured I'd do this because I had forgotten how much I enjoyed blogging. Here I go;
I might have a new writing job, but I have this lingering feeling that this guy is not as legit as he seems. Sure, he has a website, and it seems pretty well organized, but he wanted me to be a writer, which I was more than happy to do. But now I'm finding that I have to do other things that I don't know how to do. He is making me design a page...Which works out nicely because I have no idea how to design a website. Oh and someone showed up before him on google, so I had to call his web host and ask why that happens. To my shock, it's based on how many people click on the site, and his was not at the top of the list, believe it or not (I hope you realize that entire sentence was said with eyes rolling and the most high school sounding sarcastic tone I can muster).
Oh, and in the meeting we had the other day, he said that he would stand up for us in a fight. When getting on board for a job as a writer, the idea that I might get into a fistfight doesn't usually jump into the equasion. He did go ahead and show us scars anyway. None of the scars had a story behind them, we were just supposed to be impressed. He talks a good game, and has my buddy, Steve McNasty completely seduced by the disco lights and pretty girls. He's a sucker for those pretty girls, but who can fault him.
Here's the part where I stray from that topic I was just talking about and then got bored with...
I was at a bar after work a few nights ago with Steve McNasty. No, that's not really his name, it's his alias and I figure the internet is scary enough to hide identities, that, and I love aliases. Anyway-story; I'm sitting at a table with McNasty and his buddy and two other guys. One knows me, I'm sure I met him and just didn't care so I forgot about him. I didn't catch his name all night so I used "dude" and "bro" to replace the fact that I didn't care what his name was. The other guy was wearing a bright yellow reflective jacket, apparently he worked with electricity, which is terrifying because this fellow was not the brightest guy I've run into. The server comes to the table, and if I had to give a number to her looks, she was probably a 9. Oh hell, I'll give the girl a 10, she was cute and funny.
"What can I get you guys."
Everyone but me orders the cheap beer. My turn;
"Yeah, I was really in the mood for scotch, but I want something stronger. Can you put swords in it?"
"I can get you swords, but they might be pink, think you can handle it?"
"Handle it? It's my favorite color."
She smiles and walks away. I like a bartender that's friendly enough to give you a hard time, makes the whole bar experience more fun, makes you keep your wits about you. Waiting for my drink, I look around and realize that I'm not nearly as gangster as the other white people in this bar. The idiot in the reflective jacket points out that they are "wiggers." I tell him that I know this already, and then he informs me that they are called "wiggers" because they are the white version of the "N-Word." I inform him I was already aware of that. He was really not at all hesitant to use the "N-Word."
The server brings my drink, with two swords in it. She informs me that it's so I can have imaginary sword fights with them. I smile and thank her, and immediately imagine how sweet those sword fights are going to be. Then my shiny yellow neighbor nudges me mid-sip, he has something important to ask me;
"How much would you pay me to tell he that she has great tits," Yellow Redneck inquires.
"Is calling you creepy a form of payment? Because that's about all you'll get from me. Poor girl doesn't need you hassling her," I say, looking at the pink plastic swords, reminding myself how awesome they were.
"I'm gonna do it."
At this point I stepped outside, and the white people dressed like idiots (gangsters) are about to have a fight. So I step back inside. About two hours have passed and I'm still on my first drink. I realize that I'm actually not having any fun. So I head home and hit the hay.
I'm beginning to think that I'm not into the bar scene in this area, it's like they want to be the big city bars, but it's all townies. Problem is, I need to get out every once in a while and that's really my only choice. I want Cheers to be real. They had adventures and calamity, I just see the people I went to highschool with. Ah well, thanks for listening guys, you're the best.
-P
(DISCLAIMER: I know you didn't actually read all of that.)
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