Howdy Ho. How is everyone? Great.
This week I moved from eastern Raleigh to way-way-way west Raleigh—I can literally see airplanes flying into and out of the damn airport. The move was frustrating and I haven’t had access to cable television, so I decided to go ahead and take a vacation. I didn’t work, I barely messed with my Facebook page, and I even stopped paying attention to politics.
Since I’ve been out of the loop, there will be no satire this week. I do have a vague idea of what’s been going on. From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, Newt Gingrich participated in a gay orgy at some ‘French glitter convention,’ Maria Shriver had a lesbian affair with an illegal alien / maid that Arnold had hired, and President Obama wants to give Jerusalem back to its rightful heir: Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.
Other than that, I have no clue what the hell is going on. So anyway, this week’s post is going to be a casual, self-centered blog post with absolutely nothing substantive to offer. So unless you know who I am and give a damn, there ain’t nothing for you here, so pEaCe OuT!
Hell on Earth
This week has been hell on Earth for me. Anyone who thinks Frank and Marie Barone are annoying has clearly never met my parents. They flew into Raleigh to assist me with the move, which was nice of them, but they almost drove me to commit suicide. Mayhaps I love ‘em and all, but damn they’re annoying. They’re the type of people who follow every single rule to a tee, and I find that to be exceedingly annoying. Rules are meant to be broken; that’s my philosophy.
Anyway. I’ve been depressed all week long, but I am slowly starting to feel a little bit better. It’s difficult, though. I had been living in the Capital Boulevard area since 2005, and I had been residing at my previous residence since 2009. I feel homesick, out of place, and awkward. My parents replaced my computer desk, which I had been using since 2005, and just dealing with a new desk is killing me inside. But I have no other choice at the moment, so I guess I just have to learn to live in this new world!
What bugs me the most though is that I had to give up on my preferred taxi company, not to mention my barber. I’ve gone from a welcome greeting (“Hola, Muchacho!”) to an uppity salutation (“Top of the morning to you. How may I assist you on this lovely day?”). And even worse, I’ve gone from Darnell the former convict turned barber to Chuck the former married guy turned homosexual ‘hair stylist.’
I’m Living With A Conservative
Yes, ladies and gentleman, I am now living with a conservative who watches Fox News, believes in small government, and whose dogs listen to Rush Limbaugh. I shit you not; his dogs are as far right as a pair of bitches can possibly be! However, the guy himself is insanely liberal on social issues (his dogs not as much), which I find quite ironic, what with the perfectly timed release of this Onion column: Fiscally I'm A Right-Wing Nutjob, But On Social Issues I'm F**king Insanely Liberal. And oh, he used to have cats, so I have a perpetual runny nose. I HATE CATS!
…. but not as much as I hate conservative dogs!
Well, Hello There!
The Brier Creek area is teeming with athletic enthusiasts (e.g., bicyclists, joggers, and people who actually walk their dogs), hot-as-hell white women, and old people. I don’t care too much for the latter, but I’m loving the other two. It’s nice to not be the only runner in the area. And even nicer is the opportunity to lay my eyes on such beautiful beauties!
There’s a really attractive, young chick at the gas station who is cute beyond belief. She’s kind and always wears a beautiful smile. Unfortunately, she has tattoos and the last time she read a book was probably in highschool—assuming she’s a graduate. Even more unfortunate is the fact that her tendency to over-smile at desperate guys like myself got me envisioning us married with kids!
Don’t get me wrong, because I haven’t forgotten about my crush. I never spoke to her in person, but I know quite a bit about her courtesy of research. I know that’s creepy, but I can’t help it; hell, 90% of the work I do involves research. Regardless, I know she teaches children and she loves to read—which indicates a big heart, motherly instincts, and intelligence—and that she also a down-to-Earth, humble aspect to her.
Sadly, I’ll never have a chance to talk to her. Living next to her gave me an opportunity, albeit a small one, in that there always remained the tiny chance that one day we’d stumble into each other and then stumble into a conversation and well, maybe one day stumble into a relationship. That opportunity is gone now, however, so I guess I have to find somebody else to capture my heart.
I’ve been trying the online game, but it’s bloody difficult. I have the courage to attempt o flirt with girls I like online, but I don’t have the social knowledge necessary to establish a meaningful conversation. I try, damnit, but nothing works. If I try to keep it serious, they get bored. If I try to be funny, they don’t take me seriously. And if I try to be romantical, they get creeped out. God f**king damnit… why must YOU PEOPLE be so damn difficult to communicate with!?
Loaded by Willie Geist
Willie Geist’s new book, ‘Loaded,’ is actually quite funny. I feared that it would be corny and boring like ‘The Parliament of Whores’—which includes no whores, prostitutes, or sluts, though for a second I thought I had discovered a picture of Martha Stewart in a bikini; it turned out to just be my bookmark. To my astonishment, the book has turned out to be fairly entertaining, though certainly not as much as a novel.
Time to Get Signed
Though I respect and admire Willie Geist, I kind of resent the fact that the process of writing a book is so easy for him. All he has to do is call his publisher, explain his idea, and then write it. For the average Joe Schmoe, the process is far more complicated. Most turn to self-publishing, but that’s worthless. Rarely do self-publishers garner any sales, let alone even a semblance of written success.
The only way to make it as a real writer (and that doesn’t include freelancing) is to get signed, much like a rapper gets signed to a label. Personally, I don’t want to be a petty freelancer for the rest of my life. I have what I feel is a brilliant book idea that tackles the life of someone with a mental illness from a completely new and revolutionary perspective. I don’t know how I’m going to do it and when it’s going to happen, but I hereby pledge to get signed.
I know some people are thinking, “Give up your stupid dream and get a real job, you worthless prick,” but they can go straight to hell. I have a deep respect for 9-to-5ers (e.g., teachers, scientists, truck drivers, whatever), but that is not the life for me. I have something important to say, and I intend to say it. It may take a year, 5 years, or 20 years, but I’m not one to give up. My inspiration? All the brilliant, talented youths out there getting signed every single day, whether they’re dancers, rappers, or writers.
My message to those still struggling is this: Never give up. Keep working and paying your bills, but never stop hustling. Brian Williams hustles (he said so on the Carson Daly show), so you should too!
I bet you didn’t know that Brian sings backup for Jimmy Fallon. Yep; dude is a HUSTLER, son!
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That’s it. I apologize for this post being so casual and badly written, but I’m suffering from a major case of fatigue and exhaustion courtesy of cat allergies. It sucks, but what the hell can I do besides hustle hard and raise the money necessary to get back to northeast Raleigh, where the hustlers at!
Northside Raleigh STAND UP!
Anyway. I’m up out this bitch. pEaCe
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