I Hope They Don’t Reopen

About a month ago I was introduced to this banging Asian restaurant down the street from my place. I can’t get enough of it. Maybe like three or four times a month I find myself calling them up to place my same order for pickup. They always answer immediately, like after the first ring. I’ve never once called them and heard it ring twice. They’re always open.

The other day when I drove by the plaza it was in was being torn down for construction. I was appalled, completely without warning, without even a sign, or anything announcement they started demolishing one of my favorite restaurants. It looked like the only thing that was still open in that plaza was a Dunks. When I got home that day I had to call and see if they truly closed.

I got this sudden hankering to have their food at least one last time. Like knowing that this could be my last time ever eating them. That was if they were still actually open. So I called them, and just as the sun rises every morning, they answered the phone immediately. I promptly ordered what I always do and started walking towards my favorite restaurant. I had my doubts about whether or not they were open but when they took my order, took my card information, and charged me for my food, I was ecstatic to have their food one last time.

But when I got there I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was outraged, I was mortified, and most of all I was standing there hangry and speechless. I tried to open the door to get inside and it was locked. I peeked through the window and saw a ladder and a couple of job site tool boxes sitting on the floor. I could feel my heart crumble and could hear my stomach screaming from inside of me.

My favorite restaurant no longer existed. They closed down before anyone could even get their last meal from them. Worst of all, they still kept their phones active. Those assholes are breaking hearts left and right, answering phone calls, taking peoples money, just to leave us at their empty restaurants doorstep, starving, and disappointed. My favorite restaurant hastily became my least favorite restaurant… ever. I was disappointed in them. They didn’t deserve my business anymore after the stunt they pulled. Hell they don’t deserve anyone’s business after this stunt they pulled.

I hope that when they relocate they lose all their customers. No one should be giving them any business anymore. I just can’t believe they took twenty two dollars and sixty seven cents from me. They just lost a steady mostly revenue of at least a hundred bucks a month.

Ex Boyfriend

She was cooking dinner at my place that night. In the rush of leaving her apartment she left a few ingredients she needed for dinner. I was sent back to her house to retrieve those items so we could have a perfect meal together. Since she was already nose deep into the cooking process it made sense for me to go.

I grabbed my backpack, slipped on my crocs, and headed onward to her place. My headphones were blasting and I was lost in my head the entire walk to her place. When I crossed the street, I could only stop and look. I had no way of listening if a car was coming when I crossed the street to her place. I was too busy getting down to some old school J Biebs.

It didn’t dawn on me until I stepped foot into her apartment complex… her ex boyfriend still has keys to her place. I have a tendency of being a bit too pessimistic sometimes, so before I even clicked the button to call the elevator to take me to her floor I was already stressing myself out. “What if he happens to be in there tonight, of all nights? What if I open the door to him on the couch?” I was freaking out.

Part of me was kind of hoping that the elevator would get stuck so I wouldn’t be able to get into her apartment. I psyched myself out by thinking about the off chance that he’s going to be at her place. I honestly was thinking that it would be so much better being stuck in the elevator. Tragically the elevator opened up to her floor and I was left to go into her apartment, grab the four things she needed to have a perfect meal, and hope that I wouldn’t encounter the old boyfriend.

I found her key within her overly decorated key chain consisting of mace, a whistle, and too many keys that did nothing. I unlocked the door and got me inside. Immediately I turned on the lights, looked in the bathroom to see if anyone was in there, checked her bedroom to make sure no one was in there then and ran to the fridge where the one thing I could remember was. I saw one of her containers that she needed on the counter, threw it in my backpack, and called it quits. I got out of there as soon as I could. I didn’t want to cross paths with him that night.

I got back to my apartment essentially empty handed. There were four things she asked me to get and one of those things she specifically needed for dinner that night. I forgot it obviously, I only got two of those things. I instantly upset her with my empty backpack and rightfully so. I mean she chef’d up this whole meal for us, set the table with a plate full of food for us, and waited for me to get back with her before she ate.

I don’t think I have ever seen her more disappointed than I did that night. She asked for one thing and I couldn’t even do that for her. I messed up… big time. I guess the moral of the story here is; if there isn’t anyone hiding in the closet, or in the shower, or under the bed, there probably isn’t anyone out there looking to whack you. So take your time and get everything she asked for. You’ll know if you need to rush out of there.

“Don’t Get Married”

Us tradesmen live a simple life. We all get up for work each and everyday before the sun rises and sweat our balls off at work by seven am. We grind all week, looking forward to the weekend so we can finally get away from all the other guys at work that simply just breathe and annoy us by the end of the week. All to be excited to see everyone back at work again on Monday morning like we’re all each other’s best friends.

On paper, most of the tradesmen you talk to seem to be living their life, at least the life I keep dreaming about. They have a home to call home, a wife that I presume is the love of their life, and some kids to help them give them purpose to all the madness in this world. Like they all seemed to have a reason to get up each and everyday and go to work. Some of the guys got lucky. They found someone that makes them feel safe and made their fairy tales come true together.

It’s something I epitomize having one day in my life. I see all these men having a home they can call home. The same one I’ve always aspired to have and for some reason I can’t understand, they all hate it. Most guys on job sites are miserable. So much so that almost everyday, they remind me, a single kid, to never get married. If only I had a dollar for every time I heard that. It’s hands down my least favorite three words that anyone can put together.

Believe me, walk on any job site and you’re bound to hear four or five people complaining about their home without even having to ask them a question. Some people just go off and start rambling about how much they’d rather be working than at home dealing with their family. I just can’t wrap my head around why these guys are so unhappy with their lives. Not for nothing, they all have everything that I have spent my whole life dreaming about. How can they be so pessimistic?

I guess that’s why they call it settling down. People just find something that feels safe enough so they call it quits on chasing tail and finally “settle down” with just someone. I can only assume that they just felt like it was time for them to have kids and gave up on all the going out finding something real to build off of and took what they could get. They “settled down.”

I hate that name for it. Settling down… sounds like you’re content with a third place trophy. Maybe some people are satisfied with the bare minimum. They’d rather Just have someone to hangout with, rather than someone they want to hangout with. Call me crazy but I’m not that kind of guy. I’d rather spend my life alone than forcing myself to waste time with someone I don’t care about. Nor would I want to raise a family in such a plastic, broken home. I’d rather be alone than have to fake some sort of love like that.

I want it all or nothing, in no way am I ever going to settle down. I’m going to get married to the love of my life, someone that I can’t leave in the morning for work without kissing goodbye, someone that I stay up with all night because I can’t get enough of her. My home is going to be built strong, one that I can truly call home, one that I get excited to go to after work each and everyday.

I won’t ever settle down. I’m going to find someone to love for the rest of my life, something real, something that I’ve always dreamt about. When I find that I won’t be settling down, I’ll just be starting my journey.

Stealing Clothes

Personally I think it’s wicked attractive to see a girl wearing my clothes. By all means wear my sweatshirt, steal one of my t-shirts, and might as well toss on some of my sweatpants as well. I love that shit. Wear all of it and get over here and cuddle with me please

There is only one thing that has always and will always continue to baffle me. It hasn’t mattered if it’s a girl I’ve only known for one night or if it’s a girl that is just as crazy about me as I am crazy about her, they always seem to find a way to pick out my favorite clothes. Each time one of them grabs a piece of my clothing they somehow manage to always find the ones I don’t want to live without.

Initially I thought they kept grabbing my favorite clothes because I only wore my favorite clothes. Every time after I did my laundry, my favorite clothes would be on the top of my drawer. I then had this epiphany and made a change. I’ve started tucking away my favorite clothes, the ones I can’t live without, in the bottom of my drawer in hopes to preserve them.

You’ll never guess what happened next. These girls started digging through my draws, evidently searching for my favorite clothes to wear, finding the ones I love to put on. Somehow all of them find my favorite clothes at the bottom of my drawer. Even the ones that have only been to my house for a night.

It’s like they have this sixth sense of theirs. They can walk into any place, find your favorite clothes to wear, and steal them from you. Like I said, I have no issue with them wearing my clothes, I love that shit, but I can’t tell you how many of my favorites I have lost to these girls.

Some girls whose names I won’t ever remember are out there wearing some of my t-shirts as if it’s their own right now. They wear it knowing damn well they stole it from me. Some girls are out there wearing shirts of mine that I only wish I had now for this someone to steal. Some girls out there causing this huge hole in my wardrobe, stealing all of my style, that I can’t fill.

Somewhere out there someone is wearing my high school trade t-shirt that I was hoping to hang on to my whole life. Someone is out there wearing my favorite sweatshirt that I wore almost every night when I went out. Truthfully it just sucks knowing that they’re all out wearing my favorite clothes instead of me. Clothes that I can’t live without.

My First Trip

It was the last thing on my mind that night. All I wanted to do when I got home from work was relax on my couch. I had no intention of going to see a show on a Wednesday night. But when the girl who you’re crushing on ask if you want to go out with her you bet your ass I say yes to her. I can be easily persuaded. Her company was all I wanted and live music was just a bonus.

I had no intentions of getting as wild as I normally would at a show… It was still Wednesday night. Then she asked me one simple question, “Do you wanna do a tab?”

“Oh no not tonight” reminding myself that it’s still a Wednesday night. I wanted to say yes, but knew I should say no. She could see me contemplating it in my eyes. Which was exactly when she gave me her puppy dog eye’s back to me and asked me again if I wanted to go on a trip with her, and I couldn’t help but to say yes.

There we were in the back of an Uber, on our way to see Willow at her concert, with a piece of paper under our tongues dissolving for the entire car ride to the show. Once we arrived we swallowed what was left and headed inside. I felt fine initially while we were inside, but when the first act came on and they dimmed the lights and the music started blasting through the speakers, I realized we were there together. We were rolling together, she was surrounded by my arms in front of me, smiling just as goofy as I was just to simply be there together dancing.

It was a feeling I have never experienced before. I felt lighter, I was there in the moment appreciating every little light and smile that was at the concert. I was dancing with my hips on the girl I was crushing on, following her rhythm to whatever song whoever was playing.

I was lost in her essence, I was hypnotized by the stage lights, and couldn’t contain how gitty she made me feel. The entire night it felt like it was just her and I and whoever was on stage was playing for us. We were lost in the moment together without a care in the world. Proving again that when you’re having fun time flies. It felt like the quickest concert I’ve ever been to. Before we knew it it was over but we weren’t ready to call it quits.

In a way of refusing to let our night end so abruptly, we walked for twenty minutes together under the city lights back to our neighborhood. It was the most beautiful walk I’ve ever had. The way the city shined on her face seemed to enhance every aspect of beauty. Her smile sent chills down my spine that made me shiver. The way she was smiling back at me I couldn’t help but stare. The way she was grabbing my hand there was no way I was ever letting this go. Together we got lost in the clouds. It felt like we messed around and wondered our way onto this euphoria together.

We got back to her place and that was when I realized I haven’t just been tripping out with her but I’ve been tripping out from her all night long. I had been to her place before but tonight was different. Walking in there that night with her was like we were walking into our own little nirvana. It was just her and I and it seemed like the rest of the world was non-existent to us. We got lost with each other.

Everything that night back at her place was perfect. Neither one of us rushed our hands, our lips kissed gently, and our hands touched each other’s skin only softly. Our kiss ignited this flame inside of us. Neither one of us could take our hands off of each other. That night we got tangled in the sheets lost in the sixth dimension.

The whole night was perfect. Never have I ever been any higher in my life. We connected together on a deeper level than we already were on and in a way I never have before. Maybe it was just my first trip with that something real.

Green Lights

A few months ago I drastically changed my mind set. Instead of continuously reminding myself and accepting the fact that I had bad luck and would never catch a break, I started thinking optimistically, regardless of how my days go. When my day hits a speed bump, or is thrown a curveball, I don’t curse the world and complain about how much things suck like I used to. I’ve been practicing taking a deep breath and only worry about the things I can control.

I’ve only recently been able to ignore the little things that normally set me off and treat them like it aint no thing. I don’t fall into a dark hole when things don’t work out with someone I liked or when I get the shit end of the stick. I started forcing myself to accept the things I can’t control and enjoy everything else that I can. I’ve learned that all I can ever give to anyone or anything is my best and purest intentions, everything else is out of my control.

It has been the only difference I’ve made in my life and it’s made all the difference in the world with my life. I’ve found myself smiling bigger than I ever have before for a million different reasons rather than finding one reason to hate the world. I’m surrounded by family and friends that love me for the person I am today. I have a roof over my head and can afford to feed myself dinner each night. If I can do all that on my own, what the hell do I have to be upset about.

I have people in my corner that help me realize things don’t suck, I don’t have the worst luck in the world, it’s only just a bad couple of minutes. It’s bad luck and negativity I’ve been attracting to my life. Since I’ve made the change I feel like I’ve grown substantially as a man. I have people that love me and someone I can spend each and every night with. I have no complaints. The only thing that has changed has been the way I choose to see things, and that’s made all the difference in the world for me.

Bank Account Roulette

I have this terrible game I play called, “Check your bank account Sunday.” It’s wicked fun to play from payday up until Sunday when you have to see the damage the weekend cost you. Those three nights after Thursday’s pay day are nights I keep swiping my card, enjoying myself, oblivious to all the money I’m spending.

Then Sunday comes around, like a day where I actually have to pay for something that’s a necessity, like food shopping, is when I check my bank account. I wasted the whole weekend swiping my card for three nights, I only hope to wake up on Sunday mornings with enough money in my account for me to put food on my plate.

Each week when I play the “Check your bank account Sunday” game it’s bad. I have no idea how I’m able to keep a roof over my head with the way I go out on the weekends. It’s at the point now where I tell myself that if I don’t ever check my bank account, then I won’t ever run out of money. It’s like one of those out of sight out of mind things where I won’t ever know how bad it is in my bank account. I’d just never check it. I’d be naive to the damage I was doing and kept swiping my card.

This game I play is exactly why I’ve hated Sundays. I’d be so disappointed in myself with how much money I’ve squandered on the weekends, I had to find a way to avoid the Sunday scaries. I hated this game I created. All of a sudden it clicked, forget about “Check your bank account Sunday’s”, the only day I ever truly needed to check my bank account was on payday.

It never mattered how much I would spend or overspend from week to week. I was still getting paid each week, whatever I spent or over spent over the past week was completely washed away on Thursday when I got paid again. Just to do it all again next week. As long as I don’t go out spending a stack each weekend I’ll be able to stay afloat, pay my bills, and no longer have to play “Check your bank account Sunday.”

I get paid on Thursday. It’s all good.

Kids Of America

I love Charlotte. It’s a drastically different world than the one I knew back home. Since I’ve been down here I’ve been living la vida loca. I spend my weekends making all the wrong decisions, staying up until the sun rises, and sleeping less on the weekends than I do during a work week. Down here, I’ve been able to do whatever I want whenever I want and I love it.

I’ve been eating ice cream for dinner and having way too much sugar at night keeping me awake all night long. One thing I’ve been down here is that there are no parents. Like parents are nowhere to be found. If you see a set of parents out, typically they’re only visiting their kids, they don’t live here. Us kids, we ran this city. Just like in the Jimmy Neutron movie. It’s like total anarchy down here.

It’s like heaven for kids down here, there’s a bar at every corner, breweries on each block, and restaurants scattered everywhere in between. We make the rules down here. It’s our world, they’ve had their time, but down here, it’s our time. For three years now I’ve been living on my time. I’ve had no one to tell me right from wrong, I’ve had no one to disincline me, and I’ve been having the time of my life. I love it down here.

I can walk up the down escalator, I can wear clothes that don’t match, and hang my underwear from the flagpole. There’s no parents… I can do whatever I want.

I’m Never Calling Him Again

I had just worked, twelve straight days and was restless for a day to forget about work and finally enjoy myself. I had no plans but to keep my Crocs on my feet, slug a few brewskis, and unwind with some R and R. Work kicked my ass that week and I was going to enjoy this weekend by having to wake up to my alarm clock for two days.

When I got home I called my guy and asked him to hook me up with everything I need to have a wild Saturday night. I went out that night, met up with some friends, and danced until my shoes fell off. I left the bar covered in sweat from busting way too many moves out there on the dance floor that night.

My friend and I got back to my place around 3:00 in the morning. A perfect time to cook pancakes if you ask me. We were up together until the sun came up that Sunday morning. We figured the morning Sun was as good a sign as ever to get to bed in hopes to get some sleep before the work week starts again.

We damn near slept through the next day. It wasn’t until maybe 2:30 that afternoon we finally woke up to my phone ringing off the hook. My phone never rings, and it hits me worse than my alarm clock does during the week. It was my guy, who I met before I went out, was calling me. I answered the phone mumbled “hello” and heard nothing but silence on the other side of the phone. I had to say what’s up again to see if he was there.

His tone of voice was like he was surprised to hear from me, “Hello?”

“What’s up man, what’s going on?” I was still half asleep and in no way wanted to talk to him today.

“No nothing just checking in man, let me know if you ever want to get buck wild again?” and then he hung up abruptly.

Never in my life have I had anyone, whether it’s a doctor or a drug dealer check in on me and make sure I’m okay after I take the medicine they give me. It baffled me that he called me. This guy called me for what, just to see if I was alive and could answer the phone? Am I not supposed to be alive or something? I couldn’t help but think there was some sort of hit on me or something.

I instantly woke up and started smiling. I figured I was lucky to have another day on this earth and spring out of bed. I don’t know what that guy’s game was or what he was trying to pull on me but there is no way I’m calling him back. I have never met a guy that cares that much to see if I’m alive the next day. He’s got something going on and I don’t care to be a part of it.

I Hate My Alarm Clock

There isn’t a more dreaded sound in the world than the piercing sound of the default alarm sound the iPhone has. I don’t care who’s phone it is, or what time of day or night I hear it, each time it shrieks through my ears and tenses up my entire body. It’s easily my least favorite sound in the world.

Monday to Friday I despise having to be woken up by my alarm clock each morning. I hate it so much that I have to set three alarms for myself. I still find myself hitting snooze prolonging waking up as long as I can. I know my snooze is set for every ten minutes but each time I hear it, even though I know it’s coming, it shakes me from whatever doze I was in and snaps me back to reality.

Don’t even get me started on when I hear it during the day. It drives me crazy that some people use it as an alarm for a meeting they have to jump on, or as few guys use it in the morning so they can remember to wake their wife up for work, and I know some girls that use it as a reminder to take their birth control. I don’t care how or why you use it but no matter when I hear that alarm it makes me cringe and damn near shit my pants.

I’ve always hated my alarm clock, just now it’s for an entirely different reason. It doesn’t screech me awake from my sleep and remind me I have to get up for work today. Instead my alarm clock is a tragic reminder that I have to get out of bed and leave the person that means the most to me laying in bed while I go to work.

It reminds me that it’s time to leave our perfect world we created together and snap back to reality and go to work. I hate it. It’s a daily reminder that I have to leave you in my bed and go to work when all I want to be doing is spending my entire morning with you. With no alarm clocks ringing. Those are the days I dream about. When I finally make it to the day that stupid default iPhone alarm ring doesn’t scare me anymore.

Take Me Back

Growing up can be wicked hard at times to say the least. Now that I’m actually an adult in the real world, I have no idea why I was in such a rush to grow up. It looked so glorious and seemed to be such a blast when I was a kid. Like being an adult was all I wanted, no rules, no one to answer to, it seemed like my own personal heaven. Shit was I wrong. Now that I’m an adult I realize how much of a fool I was. All I want to do is go back to being a kid again.

Take me back to those days when my mom would make the rounds to pick up all of my friends to go over to someone’s house. Those nights when we’d play manhunt, or ghost in the graveyard, or played Mario SuperStar baseball until someone’s parents finally made the rounds to pick us all up to take us all home. Those nights when the houses were filled with gatorades, party mix, and cheese balls as opposed to drugs, alcohol, and cocaine like it is nowadays.

I miss those days when I’d come home from football practice just in time for dinner. The table was set, the food was almost done, and I had enough time to shower before we all shared dinner at the table as a family. It was a time before any of us had cell phones, before people would eat in the living room in front of the tv, and before we all grew up and left the house we grew up in. Back when the world I knew was shrunken down to the size of my hometown.

Some of my favorite memories are from that summer when our whole friend group got new bikes for Christmas. We were old enough to be out on our own, we had our bikes and didn’t need anyone’s parents to drive us around, and spent our nights hanging out at the lake under the moonlit sky. Those nights when we could be out as long as we wanted and never had to worry about waking up for work the next day for work.

Ignorance is bliss. Isn’t that the damn truth. Take me back to the days before I had bills to pay. Take me back to before I had to make a decision on what I wanted to do with my life in high school. Take me back to the days when the hardest thing I ever had to do was to take the trash out from in the house when it was full. I had no idea how much I’d much rather be there than growing up so quickly being an adult and all.