I wish I was rich like Howard Hughes was; I'd lock myself in a luxury suite at a nice hotel and let the descent into madness begin. I'd probably even blog about it for awhile, until the insanity-drool shortcircuited my laptop.
Why am I in such a state? Every morning I wake up at an hour traditionally reserved for farmers and garbage men. I sleepwalk through my pointless monkey job, come home and release my bile via my blog, and watch television shows that remind me I no longer like television.
When I go out, which is increasingly rare because I have the cash flow of a nursing home pimp, I'm either ignored by women, which I'm used to, or as a new hellish social wrinkle, I inadvertently frighten Asian tourists. That's right, because I'm 6'6" and a big boy, Asian tourists scurry from me like I'm Toddzilla and I'm there to destroy their town. It does wonders for my self-confidence when Asian strangers take my picture like I'm a walking tourist attraction. My only consolation is knowing a cab driver charged them two-hundred dollars for the fifteen dollar ride from the airport to their hotel.
Another recent development that makes me want to burrow underground and live with the mole-people is the assumption from strangers that I speak fluent Spanish. Several times I've been approached by someone who starts speaking Spanish at three-hundred words a minute. I'm from the South; I can't understand English spoken that fast. Since I'm a freakishly tall, pasty-white cracker with light brown hair and green eyes, why would anyone immediately assume I speak Spanish? I don't expect a tourist in town for the weekend to speak my language - I'm not some twat from France - but leave me alone, please.
Finally, the debate in my head rages on about whether to stay here or move back to Louisville. I finally decided it doesn't matter because either way I'll regret my decision forever. I'll quickly dub the city I chose an open sewer while anointing the rejected city the greatest metropolis ever inhabited by mere mortals. I've already romanticized Louisville as a Southern bohemian utopia, when in reality I had issues with the place when I lived there, not the least of which was the city's unfailing habit of doing everything half-assed. If I decided to move back there, I would wax nostalgic about Las Vegas and its 24-hour party atmosphere, even though, like I said, I never go anywhere.
Please, no comments about how middle-class white American males have no right to bitch. No shit, of course we don't. My white boy guilt weighs more than I do, so I don't need a lecture.
I'll be back on Monday with more forced frivolity to entertain and amuse. I'm sure once I shove a few unhealthy meals down my cakehole I'll feel much better.
Why am I in such a state? Every morning I wake up at an hour traditionally reserved for farmers and garbage men. I sleepwalk through my pointless monkey job, come home and release my bile via my blog, and watch television shows that remind me I no longer like television.
When I go out, which is increasingly rare because I have the cash flow of a nursing home pimp, I'm either ignored by women, which I'm used to, or as a new hellish social wrinkle, I inadvertently frighten Asian tourists. That's right, because I'm 6'6" and a big boy, Asian tourists scurry from me like I'm Toddzilla and I'm there to destroy their town. It does wonders for my self-confidence when Asian strangers take my picture like I'm a walking tourist attraction. My only consolation is knowing a cab driver charged them two-hundred dollars for the fifteen dollar ride from the airport to their hotel.
Another recent development that makes me want to burrow underground and live with the mole-people is the assumption from strangers that I speak fluent Spanish. Several times I've been approached by someone who starts speaking Spanish at three-hundred words a minute. I'm from the South; I can't understand English spoken that fast. Since I'm a freakishly tall, pasty-white cracker with light brown hair and green eyes, why would anyone immediately assume I speak Spanish? I don't expect a tourist in town for the weekend to speak my language - I'm not some twat from France - but leave me alone, please.
Finally, the debate in my head rages on about whether to stay here or move back to Louisville. I finally decided it doesn't matter because either way I'll regret my decision forever. I'll quickly dub the city I chose an open sewer while anointing the rejected city the greatest metropolis ever inhabited by mere mortals. I've already romanticized Louisville as a Southern bohemian utopia, when in reality I had issues with the place when I lived there, not the least of which was the city's unfailing habit of doing everything half-assed. If I decided to move back there, I would wax nostalgic about Las Vegas and its 24-hour party atmosphere, even though, like I said, I never go anywhere.
Please, no comments about how middle-class white American males have no right to bitch. No shit, of course we don't. My white boy guilt weighs more than I do, so I don't need a lecture.
I'll be back on Monday with more forced frivolity to entertain and amuse. I'm sure once I shove a few unhealthy meals down my cakehole I'll feel much better.
24 Comments:
Are you okay? You sound bad..and this isn't in jest, is it?
Dena,
I love your new profile pic. It makes you look like a cool anime character. It is hotness.
Thanks for the cyber-hug. I needed it.
No, I'm not joking around. I'm a little depressed, but I'll work my way through it.
There was this kid I grew up with - he was younger than me. Sorta looked up to me - you know. We did our first work together - worked our way out of the street. Things were good, we made the most of it. During Prohibition - we ran molasses into Canada - made a fortune - you father, too. As much as anyone, I loved him - and trusted him. Later on he had an idea - to build a city out of a desert stop-over for GI's on the way to the West Coast. That kid's name was Moe Green - and the city he invented was Las Vegas. This was a great man - a man of vision and guts. And there isn't even a plaque - or a signpost - or a statue of him in that town! Someone put a bullet through his eye. No one knows who gave the order - when I heard it, I wasn't angry; I knew Moe - I knew he was head-strong, talking loud, saying stupid things. So when he turned up dead - I let it go. And I said to myself, this is the business we've chosen - I didn't ask who gave the order - because it had nothing to do with business!
That quote, although mind-numbingly irrelevant, made me feel a little better.
move to canada man, no ones depressed here, who knows it could lift your spirits.... and the girls here:D
According to Tom Cruise, all you need is some vitamins and exercise to feel better. However, I think beating the crap out of Tom Cruise would make you feel better - so why not just imagine yourself doing that.
I don't think money makes life any better, but it seems like it might to those of us without it (me). I've decided I'm okay with being mildly happy (depressed). Some days are better, some days are worse.
Mostly I try not to listen to my grandma, she says "Everything will be okay, or it won't."
Green eyes?? Nice!!
Thanks to your hot tip, went into my local Organized Living to check out the going out of business sale. Even at 40% off, that stuff's way too expensive.
Know what you mean about leaving one place for another. Am in the process of making the same decision.
Hang in there, Todd :-)
Why didn't you tell me that you are 6'6 in your e-mail? I LOVE LOVE LOVE men that I can climb like a tree while I am naked. Tall is HOT.
You and I are DEFINATLEY meeting for many, many drinks at Pink Taco.
I am with independantgrl, tough out the growing pains and you will be fine. You are going to have the same issues in life no matter where you live. I think it is better to go through it anywhere but "back home". I moved back home after living away for 4 years and when I realized that dealing with that shit "back home" was worse then when I was away. There is something about moving back to where I grew up, that made me feel like a failure. I worked so hard to get away from there, so why did I want to go back?
Stick it out, I will be there in a month to help nurse you through it ;).
Wish there was something magical and all-fixedy I could say, but I've been in your situation before when I moved a couple of years ago. Come to Dallas. It's fun and welcoming, and Princess Steph and I will keep you entertained if we can.
If I ever get my financial house in order, I would like to visit Dallas. I'm a lifelong Cowboys fan. I'm actually going to a Cowboys-Chargers game in San Diego in September.
Blonde, don't hate me because of the Cowboys thing. We both love football, we'll just have to agree to disagree on the specifics.
I say pick a completely different 3rd city and go move there. :)
I am a HUGE Cowboys fan. Even though I am from Philly (which is anti-Cowboy country) I grew up on the Cowboys. No QB made my panties wetter then Troy Aikmen. Sadly, the Cowboys haven't been the same since my fave Coach Jimmy Johnson left town.
YNH, you are getting more and more perfect every time you reveal a little more about yourself *sigh*.
BTW, I visited Japan and they followed my brother and I everywhere taking our pics. You would have thought we were celebrities. We are both tall, blonde hair with blue eyes and that is not something they normally see, so they take pics of that. Don't let it bother you, you should be flattered. Do you knnow how many slide shows back in Japan we are all in?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Whatever you do, don't move back to Louisville. Just think of how close you'd be to Ohio and then you'd regret it forever! If Las Vegas ain't doin' it for ya, you could always just move someplace a little different. But at least in Vegas, you've got some distractions although from what I'm hearing from a friend who moved out there years ago, it's gettin more and more expensive to go out and have fun there.
What's even funnier is that here I am in Ohio and when I go somewhere and there are Hispanics speaking Spanish, they never come up to me and speak Spanish. But they'll go up to someone who looks as if they've just left Sweden an hour ago and start rambling on!
You should move somewhere else. Somewhere you've never been. Somewhere new. Somewhere that's not 116 degrees outside!!!
If you leave LV how will I do a table dance for you?
Ruben: I love spirituals. Bring 'em on.
Rachel: I'll definitely stay in Vegas until after the table dance.
Program Summary ABC-TV
At The Movies
6:00pm Sunday, July 17, 2005
Margaret and David take a look at Sin City, including interviews with Clive Owen, Jessica Alba, Roberto Rodriguez and Frank Miller.
LOL @ Ruben. Fun-ny.
T-Diddy, come back!
I must not be offensive enough if the best criticism I can get is some anonymous piece of human garbage telling me to "Get a life" like he's an extra on Miami Vice.
I'm not going anywhere, Dena. I usually take Sundays off.
Oopsy! I added this comment to the wrong post. My bad! Doubt if you'll actually be reading it here either. Ah, well. I tried.
Hey Todd, sorry if I offended. Every time I think of Vegas I wonder how a person of your intelligence could exist in such a place. Vegas, to me, equals Dean Martin, Buddy Hackett, Charlie Callas, etc. Taking it in, even with a goodly dose of irony, would be a colossal challenge I should think.
Louisville, on the other hand, I found quite cool, interesting, and filled with enough progressive thinking people to open these jaded eyes. Ample hipness to win a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker over.
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