All Natural

I’m not really a cologne guy. I haven’t worn any sort of that spray stuff since I was in high school playing fifty in the mornings. All I do is apply my deodorant in the morning and let it just ride out. If my natural stench comes out then it comes out. I’m Italian, all I’m going to smell like is garlic and onions and if you use the bathroom after maybe some asparagus.

When I’m out in public all I ever smell like is sex, alcohol, and weed. Nothing has had more precedence of my smell than the cannibas. You’ll only smell the others if you get close enough to me but you’ll smell that Mary Jane as soon as I walk in the front door.

It’s completely arrogant of me to be stinking up every place I step inside. No one wants to smell that shit while they’re inside a restaurant eating their dinner. I get it, it’s rude, but sometimes it does work out in my favor. Before I go into any restaurant to pick up my food for take out I always take one more hit of that devil’s lettuce ahead of going inside.

I’m always going to be an asshole that walks into the restaurant, reeking up the place, ruining everyone’s meal. I don’t just do it to be a dick, I do it because it helps me. Do you know how much quicker I get served now rather than those times when I actually cared about other people and wouldn’t show up smelling like I just came from a Wiz Khalifa concert?

As soon as I walk in wearing my fresh cannibas for men cologne, they greet me immediately hoping to get me in either a corner booth outside away from everyone or finding my take out order so I can get out of the restaurant ASAP. Right when I saw I’m here for a pick up my food is miraculously always ready for me. They even throw in some extra fries for me just because you know.

I hate cologne but if I wear any cologne it’s always Cannibas for men. It seems to always work for me. It makes me new friends, new connections, and gets me my food quicker each time I’m out. I guess that’s why I never wear cologne.

First To Last

Things aren’t how they used to be. I used to be the first person she would show anything to. If she wasn’t sure about what outfit she wanted to wear she would send them all to me asking for MY opinion on which one looked best. She gave me the exclusive first look. Every time she took a cute picture of herself or when the lighting hit her just right, I got all those pictures sent to me over text before she put them on Snapchat, or Instagram, for everyone else to see. I was always first.

I thought I would always be the first. The first one she wanted to tell a story to, the first person she wanted to see when she had a second to herself, and the first person she wanted to see each and every morning to start her day. I thought we had all of that. I thought we were the first people in each other’s lives to know everything about each other.

We used to be something special. We had that real thing that everyone dreams about. We used to be the one shining light in each other’s lives. Our days used to start and end with us locked in each other’s arms. Now look at us. I get up and go to work as you’re coming home ready for bed. Never able to find time to talk to each other. All those nights she been going out looking like the girls of my dreams and I never once got to see her.

I went from first on her list to last on her list in the span of a few days. Once we got back and settled in it was like we had no more time for each other. We weren’t how we used to be. I iced to be the first person she wanted to talk to and she was the first person I always wanted to see. Now we only we’re just someone we used to know.

The Long Way Home

Last week was the first time I really went out since I’ve moved back home. And by going out I only mean going to our local watering hole. I haven’t made it all the way into the city yet. But that night it didn’t matter, it was just me and the guys drinking our bar dry. You couldn’t ask for a better night out.

It was perfect until those last two vodka red bulls I ordered that I didn’t need. My body could have done without them. They were exactly what sent me over the edge, gave me the spins, and prevented me from being able to call a ride home like a normal person. I had the spins severely and the only way I was able to slow them down was by walking. So walking I did.

It took me damn near three hours for me to get home that night. In case you’re wondering, a three hour walk equates to almost six miles of walking. I won’t lie to you I didn’t walk the entire way home. I had called two uber rides that took me two blocks each before the world started spinning and I had to get out. I’m grateful for them at least helping me cut down my time slightly. Eventually I made it home, went straight to my bed, and passed out before I could even get my jeans off. I didn’t remember anything after those last couple vodka red bulls I had. My bed was spinning and all I needed was to sleep.

I slept for almost ten hours that morning. It was perfect. Perfect that is until I went to do my laundry the next day. My pants from the night before somehow ended up on my floor but that was it. The shirt and belt I was also wearing last night were nowhere to be found. I spent the first two hours of my day ripping the house apart looking for them.

So if anyone sees a Batman belt or a white and red v neck t shirt on farm street please grab it for me. It’s actually the only belt I own.

P.S. If I saw you that night I’m sorry I don’t remember. Let’s just pretend like I still haven’t seen you in years and we’ll catch up for real when I’m in a more coherent state of mind.

Ditch The Kids And Enjoy Your 4th

I must admit I’m sort of a people watcher. I can find complete bliss in simply sitting on a park bench or sitting at the bar by myself. I eavesdrop on conversations, I sometimes stare too long at what people are doing, I’ve seen and heard things that no one should ever have to hear. So this is my confession. It’s a fresh start from here on now isn’t it?

While I was down watching the fireworks this family of four (including the parents) were about two people behind me looking for their friends who evidently were right in front of me. I could hear the people that I could see in front of me loud and clear while I could only faintly make out what the people behind me were saying.

All I knew was that they were looking for one another. I could hear one of them ask a question while the other answered behind me with a yes or no. They were getting anxious and started talking loud enough that I could hear their whole conversation.

Which may lead you to ask, “Troy why didn’t you help them find each other?” Great question; I didn’t help because I could hear their conversation… If I said something to them it would have been creepy enough for me to enjoy the rest of the fireworks in the back of the paddy wagon. I couldn’t be their Robin Hood.

So I let things play out naturally. I felt their kids brush by me and immediately see their friends in front of me. I took a sigh of relief, happy that they finally found each other and we all could enjoy the fireworks. The only thing separating this family from their picnic spot and their other friends for the show was a four foot fence.

A fence their middle school kids, I don’t know how to tell how old kids are, do we go by age or grade? Regardless, both their boy and girl hopped the fence no problem. I turned around to see what their parents were going to do, there was no way they were going to attempt to hop the fence. I saw them both looking at each other and without saying a word simultaneously wave at the parents hosting their kids as if, “We’re gonna walk around.”

Just like that they left their kids with some parents I wasn’t fully convinced they knew. I think it was just some people their kids knew, but that was it… I guess enough to deem them safe enough to leave their kids with. I didn’t see their parents for another forty five minutes. They didn’t get back until the moment before the finale started. They got there and literally introduced themselves to the strangers that had been watching their kids.

I couldn’t believe it. These people found someone that knew their kids, dumped the responsibility of watching them on those parents, and then proceeded to pound a couple shots at the bar and smoke a joint. No trust me I’m not judging. It’s just I have that exact same scent, I knew it as soon as I smelt it. I thought to myself, maybe having kids isn’t so bad. Based on how well these parents seemed to have things under control I figured they must have taught at least one of them how to drive a car. So they at least have their D.D. to get home.

It’s Supposed To Be Easy

Typically it’s pretty straight forward placing an order over the phone at a restaurant. Usually the hardest part of the whole ordeal is deciding where you and your significant other are craving. Once you get through that fight it’s smooth sailing from there. You just call up whatever restaurant you picked, tell them what you want, and then in about twenty minutes you’ll be face deep in your meal. Easy.

For some reason whenever my brother and I call to order food it’s never that simple. Just the other day we called our taco restaurant with a hankering for some tacos. This guy answered the phone, said he was ready, giving us the green light to tell him our order. As soon as my brother started rambling off his order the guy stopped him abruptly and told us to wait a second for him to get ready…

We were silent for about thirty seconds waiting for him to come back to the phone. Finally when he did, he answered the same way he did before telling us he was ready for our order. My brother ordered whatever salad he has been craving for a month now and then started to rattle off what he wanted for a desert. Before he could say his next item the shushed him from the other side of the phone.

He told us he needed to go ask his boss if they made whatever salad my brother ordered off of their menu. He didn’t say hello when he got back on the phone, this time he came back yelling into the phone excited for us that they actually had the salad, “Yeah we have that salad coming right up, anything else?”

So my brother finished giving this guy his order and instead of handing me the phone so I could tell him my order, he kept the phone knowing damn well that if that guy heard another voice he would be completely discombobulated. Neither of us were convinced this guy was actually going to give our order to the chef but he told us it would be about half an hour until it was ready. I needed to see if he got it right.

I fully expected to show up to the restaurant and our meal to be messed up. I left the house with nothing but thirty dollars to waste on a dinner I wasn’t confident about. Even knowing what was going to happened it still sucked when I got there and our order was nowhere to be found.

Our order was an order they had no idea they needed to make. As I was waiting there for someone to help me I noticed they didn’t even have anyone answering their phones. It just kept ringing off the hook for the entire eight minutes I was there waiting. I mean I saw it all first hand, none of the employees answered the phone.

The restaurant wasn’t playing music. The only sound you could hear was the phone ringing. I was standing there patiently waiting for someone to come out and shut the phone up but it kept on ringing and ringing and ringing. It wasn’t until a customer finally got up from his table, answered the phone to tell them no one was there to answer the phone but continued to take their order and write it down on a piece of paper and give it to the chef in the back.

Where was that guy when I called? We must have called when some kids thought it would be funny to take our order and never put it in. Needless to say we found our way to the Golden Arches and stuffed our face with McDonalds. I’m not complaining.

2AM

Our last night together was our hands down our worst night together. It was the first time we slept in separate beds since our first date. I was upstairs in mine staring at the ceiling all night long while she was downstairs in the guest bedroom with only her blanket, pillow, and a naked mattress.

Every other night we shared together would at the very least fall asleep smiling at one another before we went to bed. Even if she was pissed at me, it was how happy we were together that made us so magical, it didn’t matter what happened we would always find a way to smile together before we closed our eyes to fall asleep.

My favorite part about our time together was that I always got to wake up each morning next to her. For me it’s never been about who I spend my Saturday night with, all I cared about was spending my night with someone who I wanted to wake up next to each and every Sunday morning with.

But on our last night none of that happen. We both woke up the next morning alone and confused oblivious to the fact that this was our last moment together. We had this fight that boiled over from the bar back to the bed and into the morning.

It was the first time we didn’t fall asleep next to each other smiling. It was the first time we didn’t get to wake up the next morning holding one another. We spent our last night together sleeping in the same apartment. Which breaks my heart because together we found that real thing and we didn’t get to enjoy it up until our last second.

Our night alone was like a goodbye before we even knew it. Maybe we’re only chapters in each other’s story. But the way things ended between us will forever leave a sour “what if” kind of taste in my mouth.

She is someone I will always wish I got to say goodbye too. We had something real, something pure, and it’s something I will never forget. It’s just a things had to end the way we did for us. Together her and I found nirvana. Together it was like all of our dreams became our reality. I don’t think either of us thought we would end as abruptly as we did.

She will always be one of those “what if’s” I’ll be thinking about until the day I die. I will always wonder what if we actually got to say goodbye to each other? Would we still be together? Would I be able to actually sleep at night now? Who knows what could of happened? All I know is that it is never easy to say goodbye, even if you think you can handle it.

Back In My Old Room

It’s bittersweet moving back home. I’m going to miss the life I created for myself down south of course, but I’m ecstatic to be back home with my family and friends again. Emphasis on the family part, because of them I didn’t have to rush to find an apartment to live in. I could move right into my parents basement.

But saying it out loud now is kind of embarrassing. I couldn’t let myself be that thirty year old guy living in their parents basement. The only other thing I could do was to move back into my old room… with my brother. It would be just as if we were kids again. We could push our bed together and have our fall off the bed matches, we can see who can make the most socks into their sock drawer, and if we want to get crazy we can even get ourselves some bunk beds.

As long as I can find a way to prevent myself from living that cliche in my parents basement I’ll be happy. I’d rather not be that creepy thirty year old that lives in his parents basement. I’d much rather be that dude who still shares a room with his brother.

I think it sounds a little classier if I word it that way. The way I see it I have three years and two floors until that day comes and so until then I’ll be bunking with my brother.

P.S. With my luck now that I’ve said this, I wouldn’t be surprised if I wind up in my parents basement in a few years.

Eight O’clock Treat

It was my first week back home in a few months and I needed to make up for all my lost time I’ve been missing back at home. I had nothing to do that day but sit by the pool, work on my tan, and enjoy some ice cold Bud Lights and all things legal thanks to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Being home that week and having no plans were truthfully the best plans.

My dad and brother were working all week and had errands they had to run after work naturally. So I was essentially home alone. It was just my dog and I partying at the house all day until they got home. Her and I have been loving our time together initially, but it didn’t take long until we started going crazy. I can only be still for so long you know.

One night they both got home early so we all hung out on the deck. Then in the middle of conversation they both got up. My brother had a baseball game he had to go to and my father had to run out. It was my first week back home and it’s like I’m spending more time with my dog than anyone else. I wasn’t totally complaining either, I missed her the most anyway.

We were cool for a while that night. She came outside to hangout with me every time I went out just to come back inside and cuddle up next to me on the couch. We were loving our night together. I thought things were going perfectly, we watched 101 Dalmatians, we watched The Secret Life Of Pets, like I know we had a good time together. About three quarters of the way through the Scooby Doo Spooky Island movie she started going batshit crazy. She became restless, she was running around the house, scratching at the door to go outside, and whimpering for who knows why.

I couldn’t figure out why she was acting crazy. I gave her more water, let her roam around outside, and nothing helped. Honestly she was starting to freak me out. It got to the point where the two of us sat in the living room for an hour and a half just staring at each other. I couldn’t figure out what was going on with her. I assumed she smelt an animal or something outside but every time we went out nothing was there. I refused to let her outside again. Instead we had our stare off.

She didn’t settle down until my dad walked in the door that night. The dog ran over to him more eager and more excited then she typically is when he gets home. As soon as I mentioned that she has been acting crazy he yelled at me, “well did you give her her eight o’clock treat?” Of course I didn’t. How the hell was I supposed to know she gets a treat at eight o’clock? I feel like that’s something they should have told me before they left me alone with her all night.

That’s when I realized that he loved her more than us. My dad remembered to give our dog a treat that night and couldn’t even remember to pick up my food for me on the way home. We don’t have to eat dinner every night right?

I’m Talking Bout Chi-Town

It was just another Sunday night in Chicago. But for us it was our last night visiting the city and the only thing we had planned was dinner with some friends. We had an hour to kill before we needed to start getting ready so we could make the dinner reservations. It was an hour we should have spent getting ready.

Instead we got lost in each other. It was just us in her friend’s one bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. I was sitting on the desk on my laptop writing about her while she was sitting on the bed staring at me. Neither of us could ignore our attraction towards one another. We could only fight back the urge to keep our hands off each other for so long.

Our lips met in the middle of her apartment, our hands found each other’s body, and without saying a word we knew we were going to waste that time together. We took full advantage of every second of that hour not letting our hands leave one another. We laid there in the bed together pending every last second together until we finally had to get ready.

When her alarm for us to change went off we already knew we were going to be late. We rushed to get ready, sharing the single bathroom each of us showering while the other was doing their hair. The reservation we were supposed to make was 8:30 and she didn’t get out of the shower until 8:15. We spent every bit of our extra time we had together and felt well behind schedule.

Neither one of us really cared. We were soaring on this high together. Our eyes barely left each other. I found myself sitting on the toilet fully dressed while I waited for her doing her makeup. I just couldn’t let myself be away from her. To us being late was no issue, everyone was there already they didn’t have to wait for us. We got dressed, twisted something up for our walk, and made our way to the restaurant.

When we got there and found our friends the waiter was just bringing out the bread and oil. Evidently we had impeccable timing. I couldn’t tell you what everyone was talking about at dinner. I just remember laughing with everyone else while they laughed. Most of the time I couldn’t hear the conversation or understand their inside jokes but still enjoyed every second of it admiring how beautiful she is.

It was less than an hour ago we were laying in bed completely vulnerable. She had no makeup on, I had my hair all over the place, and we were laying in bed naked together. All of dinner I couldn’t hear a thing. All I could think about was how soft her skin was, how perfect her lips fit onto mine, and how I couldn’t wait to feel her again.

We didn’t even order our entree and all I was thinking about was her. I wasn’t even hungry anymore. We were at this extravagant Italian restaurant with all of her friends and all I could think about was getting her alone with me again. She was my tour guide showing me this beautiful new city and all it has to offer and all I wanted from it was her. She could see in my eyes and we left dinner leaving cash for our tab while everyone else waited for the check.

That Sunday night in Chicago might have been my favorite night of all.

It’s All About Who You Know

It was just a small little job someone asked me to help them with on a Saturday. Apparently the electrician they had doing the work ghosted them and they just needed someone to get done ASAP, so they called your boy. It really wasn’t that intensive, all I had to do was install the lights and outlets in a newly renovated house.

Something that would normally take me maybe five hours to get done got dragged out to be all day. Since I was being paid cash, by the hour, I took full advantage of it. I got into that house, shut off all the power to the place, and got after it. Evidently I wasn’t the only one working in the house that day. About an hour later three guys pulled up to do the paint trim out painting on all the walls.

The only hiccup was that they didn’t speak a lick of english. I tried to say hi to them, you know the usual, “Another day another dollar” kind of thing and all they did was laugh like I was Mitch Helberg. They had no idea what I was saying. So I proceeded to turn up my music and do my job. They weren’t working on the first floor so I attacked there first. Once I finished that in record time I headed upstairs.

One of the guys was upstairs painting the doors, so I started in the room opposite him. I wanted to stay out of their way as much as I could mostly so I could still listen to my music all the way up. I had the whole master bedroom to myself and finished the room in four songs. When I got in the second room, the one where he was working, productively instantly went down.

As soon as I got in the room he was working in, he said something to me in Spanish. I had no idea what he said, I could make out two words he said and they were; grande and gringo and he pointed to my companies logo on our shirt. So all I knew was that he was talking about this big white dude. I asked him to say it again and still processed nothing more than the protagonist being a big white dude I had nothing.

He saw the blank stare I had on my face and promptly pulled out his Google translate and started talking into it like there was no language barrier between us. I don’t know what it was, maybe my clothes smelt like last night, maybe I mentioned something about partying too hard while I was on the phone, I’m not sure what it was but something about whatever I was doing opened the door for him to talk to me.

He broke the ice with his joke about the big white guy that works for my company making fun of his beard. He had me hooked, I was all for whatever he had to say, even if I couldn’t understand it. His phone was telling me what he was saying and I was dying laughing. laughing needs no translation. After that we couldn’t stop talking to one another.

Neither one of us was working anymore. We spent the rest of our Saturday afternoon shooting the shit. I’m not sure if it was the vibe I was giving him or if he could sense it off of me but he knew I liked to party. Maybe it was our back and forth joking with each other, but I felt like I could be honest with him.

But I didn’t want to be too direct so I answered as vaguely as I could, “Oh yeah most definitely, especially on the weekends.” I spoke that into his phone, waited for it to translate my English to Spanish and when his phone said those out loud he instantly smiled.

It was clear to me that whatever game he was playing I became a part of. It was like he knew exactly the type of person I was without us even having a full conversation with him. He asked me if I had to work the next day and I said, “Hell no it’s Sunday.” He then asked me if I liked to party and I said yes, confused as to why he was asking again.

He then asked again “?Te gusta la fiesta?” Of course me being the person I am, couldn’t say no no matter how many times he kept on asking me. Of course I love to party. It’s one of my favorite pastimes. All of a sudden this guy transformed from friend into a businessman real quick.

His demeanor got more serious when he spoke into his translator, “I have a good connect with some good stuff. It’s $1,000.00 for an ounce for that yayo.” Of course when he said it in Spanish I had no idea what he was talking about. The only thing I understood was a thousand dineros for yayo.

I knew what dinero was and that was all I cared about. All I heard was an eighth for one hundred twenty five bucks was going to give me some extra spending cash for awhile. Just like that I became one of the biggest distributors for the cartel in Charlotte North Carolina.

So I guess if anyone needs anything let me know.

Worst Job Ever

There’s plenty of shitty jobs out there. I have a long list of jobs I would never do like; being a painter, a mover, or a plumber are some of my least favorites. Those jobs are dirty, physically strenuous, and honestly kind of boring. To each his own, but it isn’t something I could do for more than a couple hours.

After traveling for work so much and being limited to predominantly public gas station bathrooms, there’s a new job at the top of the list, someone that has to clean those bathrooms. I’m in and out of strangers’ houses all day long to fix their electrical problems and it baffles me how disgusting some people choose to live.

Which leads me to the poor souls that have to clean up after us filthy animals in the bathroom. I know I’m not always the cleanest guy in the toilet but that’s because of all the crap I put into my body. I at least have the decency to flush the toilet or not use the entire roll of toilet paper at once and clog the toilet. There are some disgusting people out there you don’t know the half of it.

That has to be the worst part of their jobs; trying to unclog the toilet so hard that no matter how hard they try to cut up the mess in the toilet or hit it with the plunger with that shit water spraying all over the place and not being able to fix it. Then it gets worse, they then have to lock the stall door from inside the stall and crawl under the door onto the floor they had just soaked with all the waste that was in the toilet, to get out from the locked stall. Just to put a piece of paper on the door saying “out of order” and calling a plumber to come fix it.

There’s many jobs I won’t do, but when I saw the bathroom attendant have to do that one day, I knew that had to be the worst job out there and I’m sorry. I know how gross us guys can be and for all of us, even those assholes who use all the toilet paper, We’re sorry.