How Have You Cut Cost?

Does anyone actually save money? I feel like that is all I hear; “I hope you’re saving your money” or “How much money have you been saving?” “I’m saving for this boat” or house or whatever. We’re all saving, but has anyone actually saved enough?

Maybe it’s just me but I feel like if I sneeze in public I’ll owe someone money. I’e become that cheap asshole who currently has one tissue in my tissue box. Why do I know I have one tissue left you may ask and great question! I put it back in the box a month ago and have been using toilet paper ever since. I figured why spend my money on tissues when I have TP. I also haven’t had any friends or guest over recently, hence why I’ve been able to keep the one tissue for so long.

I pay myself with every paycheck I get with the intention of “saving it” we time but in reality I find myself transferring it all back out of my savings l just to pay all my bills. I’ve gone back to those Easy Mac/ Ramen dinners like I had when I first moved out and it has made that much of a difference financially. By just doing that I saved damn near two hundred dollars on groceries. I’ll finally be able to use all that extra money to go to Costco and buy some tissues in bulk. Apparently is the better way to buy.

Saving money is impossible, is anyone good at it?

Bad Dates

I’ve had my fair share of dates through the years. I feel like they can all be simply placed place into two definitive categories; they’re either good dates or they’re either bad dates. At this point in my life it’s hard to say whether or not I’ve had more of one or the other, but either way they’ve all been moments that have led me here today.

In my days of dating I’ve learnt one thing for sure and that is that day dates never tend to end well. The only time they have ever worked out for me or in my experience is when you’re on a date with someone that you’re actually in a relationship with. And even then it’s not guaranteed that things are as serious as they seem.

For instance, I met this girl for drinks before she had to go meet her friends for dinner one day. It had been this girl I was crushing on back in the day and didn’t care if I met her for coffee first thing in the morning, I was around to meet her whenever she told me. We met locally for lunch, tossed back a few drinks, and hit it off better than I think either of us expected. The half hour she originally penciled me into her schedule turned into an hour and a half of us together. She pushed whatever plans she had later to keep the night on with me.

We took our date from the bar back to my place so we could enjoy every last second we had together. I didn’t know when she had to leave and I wasn’t going to bring it up. She was here and I was in no position to complain about what was going on. To this point in the afternoon our date has checked almost every box on the “good date” column off. The only box I had checked off on the “bad date” side was the fact that we had a day date.

I knew it was going to come to an end shortly with her other plans and I figured we had enough fun together that we would be able to do it again. Maybe in a more formal date matter than just meeting for a late brunch. There she was putting her clothes back on in my room as I lay under the covers asking her what her plans were for the rest of the night.

In a moment of weakness and vulnerability she slipped up and told me that she had dinner plans with her boyfriend in an hour. There were no friends she was pushing off to go meet… It was her significant other. She had no intentions of showering, no intentions of changing her clothes or adjusting her makeup, she was going from my bedroom straight to his and I felt terrible. This poor guy has no idea that when he goes to kiss his girl all over that night that he’s getting all of my sloppy seconds… fresh.

That was what solidified for me. you can never trust a day date. If it was a real date you would be going out with her friends or at night with her when people normally go out for dates.

What’s Your Snapple Fact?

I pretend to be smart, pretentious if you would. I watch documentaries and recite everything I heard from them as if they’re my own “fun facts” for days. It’s not me being smart in any sense of the way. The only thing I’m doing I’ve proved is how well I can retain information for about a week long. Hence why I’ve been able to do so well on tests in school.

My girl thinks she’s slick. I won’t deny that she is far more knowledgeable when it comes to cooking and vegetables in general, so I tend to listen to her when she speaks. If she thinks I need to cut up another piece of garlic I’ll believe it, if she thinks I need to add a little more sugar, you can bet your last dollar I’ll be adding some sugar. I’ll stump her with stupid dumb facts that you’ll never need to know while she fills my brain with cooking advice turning me into a Master Chef.

She’s slick, but she’s not smart enough to sneak any ole “fact” by mean. Yeah I’lltake her advice with cooking stuff but when she tries to slip some random facts about animals or history I have to fact check them. I’ll admit every now and then she throws me for a loop and wows me, but not anymore.

Just the other day she insisted I buy these yellow kiwis because she heard they were “healthier for you.” This was her forte, if she said they were healthier for you who was I to question her. It was a fun fact I planned on using the next day at work… once. That night her late night snack wasn’t ice cream like it always is but instead it was that yellow kiwi she was so passionate about. Something she couldn’t help but reiterate it.

“Did you know that yellow kiwi’s have almost double the amount of vitamin C?” A more concrete fact than just saying they’re healthier so I had to believe. I was not in position to question her the first time she brought it up and now hearing her use numbers and nutritions facts, I had no reason to disbelieve it.

Circle back three hours later, after she went to bed and I finally made my way to the kitchen to shut off the lights and see the kiwi’s container sitting on the counter. In an act to preserve their ripeness for her, put the cover on the package, and went to put them back in the fridge.

I opened the fridge and had to move the eggs out of her way to make room for her fruit when I finally saw the label for the first time. It read; “Yellow Kiwis, nearly twice the amount of vitamin C then a regular kiwi.” in big bold letters you could read it from across the supermarket. I’ve been bamboozled.

There I was believing that all these things she was telling me were things she learnt on her own. Things she knew. I had no idea that she was just spending another thirty seconds longer than me reading a label on a box finding something obscure to mention. This whole time I have given her credit for teaching me something new on her aspirations to become more knowledgeable, just to be utterly and completely disappointed to see that she was only reading to me the labels in our fridge.

The only good thing that has come from all of this disappointment and heartbreak is now I know exactly what I can get her for her birthday. It seems like all she needs is a 365 day calendar with a new fact every day so she can be as pretentious as I am, wowing all of our friends with a stupid fact that no one even cares to know about.

Me V.S. Me

This is the year of checking off our goals. We’ve all had plenty of time “having fun” with life. We’ve had our chances to travel. We’ve had our moments living in a land far far away. We’ve had our hearts stolen, falling completely in love before, only to have our hearts broken in the end. We have been through this game of life and although we may still be kids at heart, we have matured, and it’s time to grow up.

We’ve seen enough in our lives to know exactly what it is we desperately desire. We all know exactly how to build the home we’ve always dreamt about. The happy life we’ve always envisioned is right there, now more than ever, for our taking. It’s no longer you vs the world. Now is the time of you vs you.

If you want to live that luxurious life like they do in the movies then go after it and get it. No one is going to give it to you nor will anyone be willing to help you until you make a name for yourself. If you want to have that family waiting for you at your house, a house that you call home, then go find that someone to love. Go find someone that gives you a why to all of the things you do in your life.

We are past the point of playing all those childish games (excluding Yahtzee, Jenga, and Uno of course.) It doesn’t matter who has their two cents to throw at us or how much slower or faster someone else may be making their dreams a reality than us. It’s about us. Nothing comes overnight. It’ll only come to us if we give it our all and chase our dreams and never settle for less.

2023 is our year. Opportunity has been knocking on the door, our dreams are calling off the hook waiting for us to answer, and all we have to do is let them in. Our passion is what drives us, our happiness is what defines us, and we’ll make our dreams a reality. This is our year.

The Best Way To Spread Christmas Cheer, Is Singing Loud For All To Hear!

How old were you when you found out that Santa wasn’t real? Was it from an older cousin accidentally spilling the beans or from some bully at school that ruined the folklore for you? Were you one of those kids who found out themselves and shattered everyone else’s dreams or keep it a secret so they could believe another year longer? I was of those kids who thought he out smarted his parents and found out there wasn’t a guy sliding down chimneys deliver my Christmas gifts… it was my parents.

After confronting my parents about the randomly locked room we had in our basement strictly in the month of December, we thought it was best that I kept this secret from my younger brother for a few more years. That day I found out Santa wasn’t real was the day I took it upon myself to spread all the Christmas cheer I could.

Since the unveiling of good ole Saint Nick, I have taken the reins of Santa Clause around my family. Year after year I would be the one all dressed up in the Santa suit for all the kids. I’d yell out, “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas.” sounding just like I was the big guy himself. I’d have to sneak away from the party, slip into my Santa suit like I was Superman, and go hand out gifts to everyone as if I was Oprah.

This year, since everyone was older, I figured that my Santa Clause tradition was over. It was the first year I didn’t have that responsibility and I was enjoying myself. My drinks were stronger and the joints were fatter and I was relaxing. In a way I never have before. Damn was it short lived though.

It was immediately after I made myself a fresh mixie my sister asked me if I was ready to wear the suit. A question I clearly wasn’t expecting to hear, but I could’t let my family down. The Santa Suit only fit me and there was no way we were going to have a Christmas without Santa.. not on my watch.

I slipped out from the party, stuffed a pillow under my red coat, and snuck out of the back door to ring the doorbell of my sisters house. Instantly my cousin opened the door, acting all surprised like they never seen Santa before, eager to let me inside. I bellowed out my best, “Ho, ho,ho,” and proceeded putting on the show I always have.

We were only doing this whole Santa gimmick for my youngest cousin. Turns out we underestimated his smartness. Instead of being flabbergasted like a kid normally would be at the sight of Santa, he was yearning to interrogate me. I could see it in his eyes as he sat on my lap. He wasn’t there to talk about Christmas gifts, or whether or not he was on the naughty or nice list. All he wanted to know was; “What kind of imposter I was and where is the real Santa?”

He knew that Santa doesn’t just go around ringing doorbells to hand deliver gifts. This is the same guy that slides down chimneys to deliver present while everyone is sleeping. He knew that Santa wouldn’t be able to waste his time on Christmas Eve to stop and hangout with our family specifically. This kid could see through every hole in our story and was exploiting me.

I passively pushed him off my leg, passed out the last gift to my much older cousin, and dashed through the door like I was Blitzen. I striped down from my Santa outfit, back into my Christmas finest, and made it back to the party before my cousin finished opening his gift.

It was like he could feel my eyes piercing him and he dropped his gift to approach me before he finished opening it. He asked me where I was, knowing damn well I was missing from the party while Santa was here. He knew what was going on and I had no way of talking my way out of it. All I could do was give him something else to think about, “Listen kid you gotta think of it like this, I’m not saying I am or aren’t Santa Clause, I’m just saying you’ve nerve seen me and Santa Clause together at the same time. Where was your Uncle tonight anyway?”

He walked away with his mind in a pretzel. I either completely ruined Christmas for him or got another four years of him still believing in good Ole Saint Nick. I guess we’ll find out next year.

Wrong Place Wrong Time

My boss isn’t the brightest bulb in the shed. He has his quirks just as everyone else but then there are these things he does that make you scratch your head. Sometimes he’ll get material ordered to his house instead of the job site like it’s some sort of Christmas gift. I guess it comes with the stress from the holidays.

I wouldn’t say he’s lost all of his marbles but I would admit that he has a few screws loose in his head. I mean it takes one to know one and the other day solidified it for me. Apparently he caught wind that some have been milking things at work and it struck a nerve with him. So much so he called me first thing in the morning to let me know he was coming out there.

Usually he just comes out to the jobs to bring us what he accidentally sent to his house. This was the first time that I knew of him coming out to “set the record straight.” I was intrigued by his choice of words and neglected to warn the rest of the guys he was coming. I figured this was going to be my little show to watch.

It was just before we were about to break off for lunch when he pulled up to the job site. There he was parking in the middle of the entire job site like he owns the place. I saw him through the window and went downstairs to help the guys move the plumbing material in our way to work.

My boss just happened to come at the worst time. There was no electrical work going on… which is exactly what he pays us to do. Instead we were using our time to move the plumber’s mess. Fortunately the plumbers weren’t complete assholes and were helping us. My boss, seeing first hand all of his money wasted on us moving boxes, set him off.

“What is this telephone company? I’m not paying you guys to all be hanging out like this.” It was the deepest I ever heard him use his voice. The worst part was he wasn’t generally yelling. He picked one guy out of the crew moving boxes to set an example off. He went on this whole spiel about how when they’re on his job they’re expected to work just as hard as we would if it was their own. Just in a little more R rated version than I’m paraphrasing. He was letting it rip to this guy. The only thing was that this guy didn’t work for us.

My boss spent ten minutes yelling at this plumber, who was helping us move his material, instead of tearing one of our guys a new one. I had to go back to working upstairs, unable to keep my composure. This poor dude was helping us out and then all of a sudden got cussed out for no reason. The plumber was so fed up with all the bullshit his company was putting him through, moving boxes and shit, our boss yelling at him was the last straw. The dude packed up his tools and quit on the spot. Maybe he should have been an electrician.

My Place My Bathroom

I love my new apartment and this isn’t a story about me gloating, talking about how glamours the home owner life is because honestly it sucks but that’s besides the fact. Having my own room, my own closet, and finally my own bathroom has been life changing and is exactly why I love my new place.

There is just one little hiccup about my place; the one bathroom that I say is finally my own is actually the only bathroom I have in my place. I’m not a lying calling it my own, it’s just I have to share it with any and everyone that comes over to my place. Which is no issue to me, I’ve shared a bathroom my whole life, just never a bathroom that is in the same room as my kitchen.

When I leave for work, typically I don’t get back home for another ten hours. Just to preface this, I’m the type of guy that can’t go to the bathroom without baby wipes. So when I get home from work the first place I need to go to is the bathroom. You can’t do what I held in for eight hours at work in a bathroom that opens up to your kitchen.

The other day I had to hold my shit. There friends at my place and I couldn’t let loose the way I needed to in front of them. Not only would they smell what was emptying out of me but they would hear me. I had a greasy lunch and it was ready to come roaring out.

I didn’t think about it once. I told myself I couldn’t shit in front of all these people and held it in. Three hours later when they all left, I raced to the bathroom to do the deed. I sat on the toilet for twenty minuets and nothing happened. What once was ready to fall right out of me if I bent the wrong way has now solidified inside of me.

I no longer had to use the bathroom anymore. It wouldn’t come out. It hasn’t come out. Here we are three days later, two chipotle meals in and I still haven’t been able to let loose. I don’t care if there are people at my house next time I have to go. This was my home, if I need to go the bathroom I’m going to use the bathroom.

I Don’t Think I’ll Be Going Back Anytime Soon

I’m the furthest thing from a strip club guy. It’s never been my cup of tea and honestly I don’t think it ever will be. I was lucky enough to make it out of the club alive after my first time being inside one, slapping all of the dancers ass’s on stage in a place that is forbidden. I was lucky to walk out of there on my own. I prefer more of a physical connection with someone, which is why I’m not a fan of the clubs. I want that real thing, that thing were you can hold hands and smack each other’s ass with no problems. You can’t have that kind of relationship at the strip clubs.

Essential strip clubs are like some of those fancy art exhibits. You’re only allowed to look with your eyes and that’s impossible for me to obey. I’d rather spend my money on a night out with dinner hoping to get lucky than blowing it all at the club just for some eye contact.

But when my buddy was getting married and they invited me to go to the club with them I couldn’t say no. Regardless of how I felt about them I had to be out there with the boys. I cashed out a couple bill for some ones and followed their lead inside. We vibed at our table being treated like stars all night. Some of the guys were blowing their money in the back but I wasn’t interested in that. I was more concerned with how these girls lived their lives in this fast lane.

Instead of asking them for a dance when they walked by I’d interrogate them on love. “Do you believe in love, or “Can you be a monogamist?” and even “Have you ever been in love before?” The only reason why I started spending my money that night was so my conversation didn’t have to end with the dancer while she was hanging out with me.

The best thing that happened that night was that we left our table and headed for the stage. If we were there all night I would have been kicked out for causing the girls to lose money by hanging out with me. We took our whole party and surrounded the main stage with cash in our hands, eager to throw it all for whoever came out next.

At least they did. All I cared about was finding whoever was curating the playlist blasting through the place. The unwritten rule about being at the front of the stage slipped my mind. If you’re standing there you’re basically obligated to throw your money. I was too busy dancing and vibing along with the music. I didn’t throw a single dollar.

The dancer took notice of me ignoring her as I danced with myself. She took it personally and asked me “Aren’t you going to throw some money for me baby?” I heard what she said but I didn’t care. I wasn’t there for the girls. I was there to have a good time and that was it.

“Here…” I proceeded to give her about half of the cash I had. “How bout I dance for you this time and you throw the money at me?” I closed my eyes and didn’t realize I became the only person dancing inside the entire club. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Drinks weren’t being poured, girls weren’t dancing, and money wasn’t being thrown, not even on me.

I changed the whole demographic of the club. The bouncer was the first to react to me and before the dancer could throw any of my money back onto me I was being tossed out of the club like a dollar bill. My friends enjoyed the rest of their night inside as they should have. I waited outside for them with all of my money still in my pocket (minus the forty dollars I gave the dancer to rain on me) and had the epiphany that the strip club is no place for a guy like me.

Deja Vu

I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve had Deja Vu. I recognize something in the real world that has happened or was there in my dream countlessly. Just the other day when I was walking through the basement of this new job we started, it had this same eerie feeling I had in a nightmare. It was the exact same sketchy basement that shook me awake from a nightmare about a week ago.

Which is why my latest nightmare is kind of alarming. I was in a lucid dream, working in the basement of my house, relaxing the only way I know how. (Yeah I’m that kind of nerd that dreams about work) Everything was perfect, I was blasting music, working diligently, and feeling a sense of satisfaction as I was nearing the end of the job.

It felt like a perfect dream. A dream I couldn’t wait to transfer to the real world. Hell I would love for this project to be done in my basement. Unfortunately in my dreams things were going far too well and we know things never go well for me. Almost simultaneously as I started listening to the little voice inside me saying that, the drill I was using to get through the stud, locked up, kicked back and smacked me square in the face with twenty volts of Milwaukee power.

After tasting some blood and holding my face in agony for a few minutes I was able to shake myself back to life. The blood had slowed down but kept on leaking slowly. It was too much for me to ignore and keep on working so I had to race to the bathroom to clean my face and wash out my mouth.

Then the nightmare officially started. After cleaning my wounds, when I pulled my head up from the sink, I saw a face in the mirror I haven’t seen in fourteen years. It was still me of course, just like it was back then,my front tooth was chipped in half.

The tooth I chipped way back when playing dodgeball has finally broke again. After all those years of sports, fights, and smashing my face with the drill before has never chipped my tooth. Of course now, when I no longer have dental insurance, I have this horrific nightmare. For the first time in fourteen years I saw my tooth chip again.

This is a dream I can only hope never becomes a reality. I know It seems like I’m always asking for a lot, saying, “I’ve been dreaming of this or that all my life” but I’ll rescind all of those dreams just as long as this dream never happens in real life. I don’t want this to ever be a Deja Vu.

Guess What Troy Drank?

My least favorite game to play is; Check your bank account Sunday’s. I may have mentioned this before but I’m only good for about forty hours a week. Once work is done I’m officially through with work. I won’t even answer the phone unless it’s my family calling. After I collect the paycheck on Friday for donating my time to a company for the week, I go out there and enjoy every bit of it.

How I spend each weekend is an enigma. I never make any plans so there are some weekends I stay home and actually save all that money they give me for work. Frankly, that never happens. I’m lucky if I save enough money to buy groceries for myself come Sunday afternoon. Hence the name of the game I loathe the most. I continuously dig myself into a whole each weekend spending my entire paycheck never seeming to get ahead. I guess that’s why I’m stuck working so much.

Which happens to be the perfect Segway to my coworkers favorite game; What did Troy drink this weekend? I don’t believe them but according to the guys, I tend to reek of whatever alcohol I spent the weekend drinking each and every Monday. I stroll into work late on those mornings anticipating their heckling. I would always hear them yelling before I would ever see them; “Hear we go guys clear your nose, he’s coming this way.”

Some weekends it’s Vodka, more often than not it’s beer that I’ll smell like. But if I’m feeling a little freaky on the weekend it can even be tequila they smell in the morning. Regardless of what it is I drink, the odds are based on how happy I am when I leave work that Friday. Sometimes they know it’s going to be a beer weekend. They’re never prepared for those tequila weekends and truthfully neither am I.

So if there is anyone else that wants to enjoy making fun of this life I live by all means reach out to my boss. I think this weekend is plus one fifty for vodka Redbulls, minus fifty for whiskey, and plus three hundred for tequila any which way. Reach out to the boys from work if you’re interested.

I Don’t Like Them Tall Folks

I don’t consider myself tall by any means. I’m barely 5’12” and I only tell girls I’m 6’ tall so they don’t immediately brush me off when I meet them. I’m the type of short guy that you would lose in a crowd or in the mall. It’s because of that fact that I consider myself as part of the short crowd rather than the taller one.

Truthfully, I’d rather be in the short king crowd. Those giant people are complete assholes. They think because they’re so tall and tower over all of us that they can walk all over us. They don’t even look where they’re stepping, not giving a shit if they step on any of us along their way.

Those gentle giants aren’t so gentle. They’re ruthless. They talk over us, they stand in front of us at shows, and have no consideration for any of us that are below their altitude. I can’t think of any of those human skyscrapers that I like or can even tolerate. And that’s coming from a short fellow that has, an Andre the Giant, type as a brother.

Just last week I was at this show for an hound a half waiting for the main performer to come on. I was ecstatic when they finally did. I had a spot with the clearest vantage point of the stage. Then this J.J. Redick looking dude, stumbled into the concert late and planted himself directly in front of me.

I couldn’t see anything but the back of his head. My night that was full of such a magical, euphoric rush was instantly changed to emotions of irritation and aggression. I became combative, a feeling I have always been able to tame, and called this douche out for standing in front of me.

In a surprising twist of events, he countered my volatile temper with compassion and cleared his path for me to stand. Instead of becoming a new foe he became an ally of mine. He made me want to make a change. He made me want to be a better person. He was a guy that has been living so high and still has time for us little guys down here.

That’s when I realized that there are decent people out there. He made me want to be a better person. I think I’ve outgrown the short kings that I have been a part of for so long. It’s time for me to make this world a better place and claim to be 6’ like I truly am.

I love tall people.