Cat Eyes

This isn't the story people voted to read, so tough titties. It has more to do with creepy stuff & Halloween & such as. Also? It's a true story of something that happened to my mom.

When my mom was a little girl, she noticed that above the bedpost near her head there was a pair of what appeared to be cat eyes looking down on her; the more she looked, the more she felt comforted. But as she got older, she began to see the eyes less & less. However, they still followed her as she moved from Raleigh (where she was born) to Rocky Mount (where she moved when she was 12).

Child Mommy

Once she became an adult, she didn't see the cat eyes anymore. She got married & moved to Atlanta where she began teaching. But then out of nowhere, she came home one day to her husband kicking her out & demanding a divorce. This prompted a move back home. As she struggled with the divorce & depression, the cat eyes returned. But this time, the eyes weren't as comforting. They had a yellowish tint to them, & had a more sinister appearance. After a while, as she began to overcome the obstacles & started dating the doofus that would eventually become my father, the eyes lost their power over her & eventually they disappeared altogether.

Post-cat eyes Mommy

I don't know if all of you's guys believe in spiritual stuff, but my parents & I do & we firmly believe that there was some demonic hanky panky going on up in this piece.

Also, this story is a lot better when told rather than written.

Where I Was

This title has two meanings.

The first is in regards to why I haven't posted or commented in almost 2 weeks. I honestly just haven't had much of anything to talk about. On top of all of that I've been ridiculously overwhelmed by school. In fact, I'm currently in Virginia until Friday because I have to do in-class training for a class I already took in Florida. But they wouldn't take the credit. I'm not bitter.

But anyway, that is something of a segue because the next part of this post is about 9/11. Because of course.

It's kind of funny because exactly 10 years ago today I was in Virginia on a family vacation with my parents. In fact, it was one of our last vacations we ever took. Not because my parents divorced or one of them died. No, we just never went on vacations. But that's another post entirely.

ANYway. My story about 9/11.

I was 15 & still home schooled. My parents & I had gone to Williamsburg because I was a nerd, loved history, & loved seeing underpaid actors dressed in humiliating outfits even more. Our plan was to just do the Colonial Williamsburg thing for most of the week. My dad & I might go to Busch Gardens at some point. And on September 12? Oh, on September 12 we were going to go to Washington D.C. 

On that fateful morning, I woke up at exactly at 9:00am. My first thought? "Oh! 'Regis & Kelly' is on!". So I turned on the TV to see what wacky hijinks those two were getting themselves into that day. Only when I turned the TV on...it was Bryant Gumble talking & they were showing video from New York of some buildings smoking. What the hell? I went into my parents' room where they were watching HGTV & told them to turn on the news. Then we all just watched the rest of everything happen in complete shock. After both of the buildings had fallen & things had sort of calmed down my parents decided to go to Colonial Williamsburg (I think they were trying to protect me in case something else happened) where my mother was in tears a few times when she saw patriotic things.

As the week progressed, I became more & more irritated. Those terrorists were so selfish, ruining my vacation. I almost threw up one night while watching the news & they showed a video of people falling out of the Towers. Disgusting. It's still imprinted on my brain.

And I still haven't been to Washington D.C.

Uncle Harold Died

A few weeks ago I got a text from my mother that my great-Uncle Harold had died.

I was quite surprised, seeing as the last time I saw him he seemed totally fine. I've kind of always thought he was a turd & a half, but still...dying sucks.

My mind immediately went back to the last time I saw him, which was a little over a month ago at a family reunion. We didn't speak, of course. That's par for the course for us. We spoke a little bit back in March when we were all dealing with my grandfather dying. But that isn't the norm. I'm not one to hold a grudge generally, especially if the slight wasn't directed at me, but he really screwed my dad over. Back in 1999-2000, my dad was the music minister at the church he grew up in (still attended by my grandparents & other assorted relatives). But Uncle Harold had my father, who was his nephew, removed from the position. I'm not sure of the reason, other than he was trying to get control of the church. And guess what: he ran that church right into the ground. It's now one of those black churches with four different names in the title like Father of Grace Deliverance Tabernacle or some shit.

Ahem. As I was saying, I don't generally hold a grudge but that really pissed me off. You just don't do that to family. At least not to close family. But after that whenever I'm around him I keep my distance. But unfortunately at the last family reunion in June I couldn't avoid him due to the circumstances. I had taken a leak & as I was exiting the stall, Uncle Harold was coming in. We didn't speak. I saw him sit down on the toilet. I washed my hands super quickly & ran out of the bathroom. And that was the last memory I would ever have of my beloved Uncle Harold.

That is until my mom texted me back & told me it was actually my great-Uncle Harold on her side of the family. False alarm!

Birthday Story 2

For my 21st birthday, I was in Rocky Mount for the summer. As I've mentioned before, I began drinking when I was 20 so it didn't really matter to me much; besides, I didn't have any friends in Rocky Mount so I had no expectations. Plus! My birthday was on a Sunday in the south, which meant that most places were going to be dry (no alcohol served, because God only cares what you do on Sunday).

My dad had already moved to Toccoa for his job, so my mom & I went to their church. At that point, I still had a smidge of a relationship with some of the youth/young adults at the church so I asked some of them what they were doing after church as far as lunch. I told them it was my birthday & I would like to go somewhere. Well, they would only go to lunch at Golden Corral (a buffet). I decided that wasn't going to be my birthday lunch so my mom & I went to Chili's. It was as good as Chili's is going to be. Especially without alcohol.

We went back to the house & my mom started nagging me to try to hang out with ANYONE I could find, just so I wouldn't be alone. I tried another guy at the church, but he didn't want to do anything so I said, "Fuck it" & went to the damn mall by myself. When I got there, I bought myself some clothes for a present (I had already gotten stuff from my parents & grandma). Then I went to Blockbuster (ha! Old school) to rent something but couldn't find anything. Drat!

So then I went to my grandma's house & watched Disney Channel.

Happy 21st to me!

Birthday Story 1

It's my birthday week, so every day this week I'm going to post a story about some past birthday extravaganza or whatever. Since I don't have much time today I'm going to write a short piece about my one & only surprise party.

When I was 15, I was well aware of the fact that I didn't have many friends (I had literally 1 friend). As my 16th birthday approached, I told my mother that I wanted a surprise party. She said ok. Well, that was easy.

The day after my birthday was a Wednesday which meant I had youth group at church. As my dad & I were heading there (my mom was already conveniently there) my dad took a wrong turn "accidently". I thought it was really stupid, but I sometimes think my dad is stupid so it wasn't THAT big of a stretch. We finally got to the church & my 1 friend Cooper was there. He kept talking to me & talking to me & trying to distract me but I hate being late so I pushed by him into the youth room. That was when I saw my mom, my youth leader, & about 5 other youth group members just...in there.

I ruined the surprise.

.....surprise......

On top of that, my mother didn't tell anyone in advance so hardly anyone had shown up, nor did I get any presents. At least she tried.

But hey, it's better than how my ACTUAL birthday had been the day before. I had gone to driver's ed, then gone to Raleigh for a terrible counseling session, followed by Olive Garden where I almost immediately had an allergic reaction to something & my father had to literally carry me out of the restaurant because I couldn't walk.

That Time I Almost Got Kicked Out Of College

I've alluded to this post a few times, & now it's time for y'all to experience the wonder.

Are you ready?

It was literally a day before Spring Break my second year at Toccoa. I was driving down the main road with Ij (short for Italian Job, a name Alexa gave him because he looks Italian but he isn't) when he got a call from his hysterical girlfriend, LL. Apparently, she had been called to meet with one of the deans of the school because someone had read LL's Xanga in which she wrote about a get-together at The Mayor of Creepsville's house where there was some alcohol consumed; that person then printed off a copy of the post & gave it to the dean. Since we attended a school that rewarded this kind of behavior. Drinking was a big no-no regardless of age or whether or not you lived on campus. The most common form of punishment for such a heinous activity was a crap-ton of gratis (which, as I have mentioned before, is like community service around campus), suspension, or expulsion. So obviously, LL being really upset was understandable. I felt really bad for her.

That is until about 2 hours later when I got a text from Christian, who was currently the SGA president: the dean wanted to speak to me. Shit. I still had about an hour left of my shift (back in the day when I was a host at Applebee's & thought working lunch was good), & that entire time I almost had an anxiety attack. I had no idea whether I was going to be forced to testify LL or anyone else, or whether I had been thrown under the bus as well. Either way, I hurried over to the school after work to go ahead & get it over with...

Now, the dean is a reasonably nice person. He has a very... calming demeanor. I sat down & he told me how he had already spoken to LL about her Xanga post, & then went into reading quotes from it. This was when I learned that LL included all of the names of the people who had been at the party (of which I was included). Now, I can understand why she would think it was ok to put our names. I mean, it was 2008 & homeslice was still writing on Xanga. Nobody had been reading that shit for years. But seriously?! You're going to post on a public forum that anyone can read that you had been drinking & include the names of everyone there? Idiot.

The kicker? I didn't even drink that time. I wasn't even going to go because it was at The Mayor of Creepsville's house (THAT'S going to be a fun post...) but I had gotten in a fight with my dad (who I was living with at the time since he was working in the same town I went to college) & left to hang out with Ij. I stayed maybe an hour & smoked one cigarette. And all of this crap was happening to me.

Sometimes I make really bad choices.

I explained all of this to the dean, who didn't seem mad at all. I didn't like that. I need the other person to react one way or the other so I can react. I obviously don't do well making my own choices. He was just really quiet. And that's when I started talking...running my mouth about how I thought I had a drinking problem because I would physically feel pain if I didn't drink. How it ran on both sides of my family. How I could just drink & drink & be drunk but not stop or get sick.

Jesus.

That was when the entire mood of the meeting changed. Now he wanted to fix me. Well, at least I didn't think I would get kicked out anymore! So there was that. He decided to have weekly accountability meetings with me to make sure I was overcoming my plight as a potential alcoholic. I thought that wouldn't be so bad. But then the mood changed to one slightly more ominous. This was when the dean wanted me to tell him who Ij was (only his first name was in the Xanga post). I didn't want to do it. I really didn't want to be a snake. But I knew I had no choice because it would potentially get me in more trouble, plus the fact that I knew he probably already knew. So I told him.

He talked to Ij later that day, as well as the other 3 guys involved (The Mayor of Creepsville, a ginger kid that may not have any functioning brain cells, & the guy who died earlier this year). They set up a meeting for all of us to get together after Spring Break, & basically all that ended up being was the dean & another dean telling us why we were wrong for drinking & The Mayor of Creepsville trying to debate them. While everyone got involved for the most part, I kept my mouth shut.

I was surprised, but none of us got suspended, expelled, or at the very least gratis. It was just really odd how it all worked out, especially when we were basically completely screwed. In fact, there was a group of people who got busted for drinking around the same time & they all got a lot of gratis & weren't allowed to play on their respective sports teams for the rest of the year. I know they may have been held to a higher standard, but I was really involved on SGA & the dean did mention that I may need to be removed if my behavior didn't change. But that was that.

In the end, I distanced myself from that group. LL left school at the end of that semester. I continued to keep my distance from The Mayor of Creepsville. I also avoided the dead guy because he was an ass. The ginger? We never really hung out much anyway. Ij ended up getting kicked out the next year because of alcohol (& because The Mayor of Creepsville sucks).

I ended up going about a month without drinking, until this horrible night when Ij & LL had sex in my dad's bed. I also continued going to the accountability meetings until I realized that all the dean wanted was to use me as a narc since he knew that while I didn't hang out with people much, I knew a lot of what was happening with people. So I quit going.

And Spring Break? It was decent fun in Daytona until I kind of realized that one of the only reasons I was invited was because I had a car. Assholes.

Great-Grandfather? You ARE The Father!

So this is one of the posts I was going to do a month ago but didn't. I figure now is as good a time as any to get write it.

Back in January, I had stopped by Aunt Norah's (as you know, not her name) house to drop off some tea I get from work that she likes. We were just sitting in her living room talking about our family & stuff that happened before I was born, when she mentioned Donna (not her name). "Who is Donna?" I asked. "Oh, you haven't heard?" replied Norah. Of course I hadn't heard. My parents & I are almost always the last people in our family to hear about anything. But as it turns out, most of us didn't know. And what didn't we know? This....

My great grandfather (the father of my grandfather that just died) was apparently loose. There was already speculation back in the day that he fathered one child out of wedlock (who for some reason was already part of the family & grew up with my dad & his siblings. While it was never proven, it was heavily assumed because of rumors & the way she looked. I have no idea who this lady is, which isn't surprising because we have a tremendous family.

Anyway, a few years ago this new woman (Donna) approached my grandparents & told them that she thought she was the half-sister of my grandfather. D'oh! She was no stranger to them, having been a regular at the restaurant where my grandmother used to waitress. They only said something to a few of our family members, & surprisingly were able to keep it all pretty hush-hush (those people can't not gossip. Even if it's about themselves). Anyway, Donna's possible-half-brother Edward (not his name) wanted nothing to do with her because he was a turd & holier than thou. But he died a few years ago & she's slowly been feeling more comfortable.

Anyway, I went to see my parents (this was when I still lived with Skidmark & was making almost daily visits back to Rocky Mount for my safety) & asked my mother about Maybe-Great-Aunt Donna. She had no idea what I was talking about, & immediately texted my father, who responded with, "WHAT?!" So there was that. Later that night, my father called Norah, who gave him Donna's contact information. My parents then met with Donna & her husband, & encouraged her to get a paternity test & become more involved with everyone.

Then all of the crap happened with my grandfather. The second day I was at the hospital the week his lung collapsed, I went into the waiting room & was shortly joined by a lady I had never seen. I figured she was a friend of the family or some relative I had never met (or hadn't seen since I was little). Well, it turns out it was Maybe-Half-Great-Aunt Donna. Well, hey there! She asked me some question & we figured out we were there for the same people, & we both got really excited when we realized who the other person was. After reuniting with my grandmother, I got to witness the introduction of Maybe-Half-Great-Aunt Donna with her maybe-half-sister Lucille (not her name). They got along famously, & they even look similar. Then some of my cousins began trickling in. In a funny turn of events, the ones that came to visit had never heard of Maybe-Half-Great-Aunt Donna (which made me feel awesome for knowing something before them). It was really funny to watch their faces as they realized what was happening.

There was some awkwardness, though (because of course). One of the things I haven't mentioned was that Donna is literally half a month older than my dad. So she is the same age as one of her nephews. Yup! Another awkward moment was when she hugged my cousin Maria (not her name, duh) & told her she was sorry about her mother. Maria's mom (my aunt Mary [her real name, because she's dead]) was murdered in 1986. I found out at this point that Donna had known since the 70's that she might be part of our family but just learned about us through other channels. I also learned that my great-grandfather was a cop, to which I said, "Well, obviously he did a whole lot of serving & not a lot of protecting" (only Maria heard me. She laughed but it was still awkward if you understand what the meaning behind it was).

Since then, I only saw Donna one more time at the hospital right before my grandfather died. She was in his room with my grandmother, & she was saying her goodbye. It was really tough on her because she had finally started to get the family she'd always wanted & now her possible-brother was sedated & on a ventilator. She was trying not to cry, & told me after we left that what kept her strong in there was seeing me since I had been so supportive of her the other day. I also had noticed when she was about to start crying & gave her tissues.

Apparently she was at the visitation & funeral, but I didn't see her. She wasn't at the burial. But the next week, after everything that had happened, the paternity results came back.

Maybe-Half-Great-Aunt Donna was officially Half-Great-Aunt Donna. Holla, Half-Great-Aunt Donna!

And that's how I inadvertently gave us a new family member, just because I asked some questions & got a ball rolling.

What Happened A Few Weeks Ago

So I know I've already said what happened 2 1/2 weeks ago, but now comes the time when I actually blog about it.

My grandfather died.

Despite us not being close, I was still sad. Watching someone you've grown up with disintegrate like that...it's tough. Here is what happened....

Papa had been in really crappy health for a while. Having been a smoker since he was 7, he eventually had to quit a few years ago because of his emphysema. He also was prone to strokes & aneurysms. A few years ago the doctors thought he may have lung cancer, so they did some biopsies. This routine continued for a few years: maybe cancer! Oh wait! No, it's just scar tissue!

In September, it came back as being 100% positive that he had lung cancer. None of us knew really what was going to happen as far as treatment or prognosis, so all bazillion of us in our family tried to just be around as much as we could (give or take a few).

Then, in January, he decided to have a surgery that was not highly recommended. In fact, the survival rate was only about 10%, given his current state of health. But that dipshit went ahead & had it done. You can pretty much tell where this is going.

He did survive the surgery. Oh yeah guess what else: IT WASN'T CANCER! Lovely. Anyway, he was resting up at Duke for a few weeks. I even went & saw him, which is more than any of his 9 other grandchildren did during this time (granted, most of them live over an hour away & the majority of them are married, have kids, or are druggies with no mode of transportation). He seemed really out of it, & he looked like complete crap. Which is expected, being in the hospital & everything. While I was there visiting, the doctor even said that he could be sent to a nursing home by their house for his rehabilitation process! Joy!

However, while at the nursing home, his chest tubes wouldn't drain. His food would also go down his windpipe, so he had to get put on a feeding tube. Eventually, he had to go back to Duke. A few days after being released from Duke, his lung collapsed at home. My grandmother called my aunt, uncle, & cousin who live on the same property to come over, & then called 911. He coded in the ambulance but was revived by the time he got to the hospital. Once there, he was sedated & heavily drugged.

The day after that was when I came into the picture again. I had a few days off from work so I went home. I practically lived at the hospital, being there almost as much as my grandmother (who wouldn't leave). This whole time he was sedated, but supposedly could still hear us. This whole thing became somewhat of a family reunion for everyone, as family emergencies are prone to do. Aside from a few people (grandmother, aunt) we all knew what was going to eventually happen. As I told my mother when I headed back to Cary, "See you in a few days."

And I was right. That Sunday the doctor met with my parents & all of my dad's siblings & their spouses. That was when it was confirmed that my grandmother was going to have to make the call when to take the ventilator out because he could not stay as he was. I came back that day & just hung around the hospital & drove around with some of my cousins. Monday was basically the same. However, Monday night was bad for him & my grandmother decided to have the ventilator taken out Tuesday evening, so everyone could be there.

My family is huge, so we completely overtook the waiting room. Everyone was really anxious, but still in good spirits. The doctor said that it would only take a few minutes, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. It took forever. To the point where it seemed like he may bounce back & my grandmother started getting excited (it was so painful to watch). Everyone left except for my grandmother, my cousin Joey (not his name), & me because it was getting so late.

Eventually we tried to sleep, & then around 3:30am there was a call to the waiting room & my grandmother hurried up to the ICU. I followed a few minutes later, not wanting her to be by herself. The nurse told me that it probably wouldn't take much longer, so I called Joey & my parents (who live close to the hospital). Joey called his mom, too. The two of us went into the room with my grandmother & we all cried & held hands. My parents showed up so I stepped out because I was so emotionally drained. A little while later Joey's mom came, too. A few hours later my mother left for work (she took a half-day) & Joey & I got some breakfast at Cracker Barrel. Then we tried to sleep again, which was fail. Around 9 I had to peace out because my body was going numb. I passed my mom going into the hospital as I was leaving, & wished her luck. Two hours later she called me to tell me that he had died.

I'm not going to lie: I was kind of pissed that I hung out at the hospital all that time & he waits to die when I'm gone. Asshole.

My dad (who had already started planning the funeral with his only responsible sibling, Aunt Norah [not her name], her husband Tom [not his name], & my mother) got everything rocking & rolling. My cousin Amber (not her name) & I went through pictures to make a slideshow. A slideshow I basically got no credit for because while I found most of the pictures, Amber scanned them & put them on the disc. Whatever. It was still fun. I'm going to post them all later.

Overall, the service was crap. There was Southern gospel sung by some of my relatives. There was the pastor barely being able to make it through a complete sentence without stumbling over his words. There was also the pastor turning the funeral into a plea for everyone to accept Jesus into their hearts not just so they can spend eternity with God, but to do it so you can see my grandfather again. I am serious. He also said that babies cry when they're born because they see what kind of world we live in & want nothing to do with it. I say it is because they're naked, cold, & have a bunch of people pulling on them. I'm right.

I was a pallbearer with 5 of my other male cousins (there are actually 7 of us but 1 was in the process of moving back from Florida & couldn't make it) & let me just say that that junk is HEAVY. After the mausoleum portion, we went to my grandparent's church (where we have all of our Thanksgiving family reunions) & had a very nice meal where everything had pork in it. Because we are Southern & Everything Must Have Pork.

P.S. I don't eat pork.

I went back to Cary that day but on the way there I went to see my grandmother (she lives on the way). She was there alone & just seems lost. We just sat there & talked a while, & it was nice. Eventually my parents, Uncle Rob (not his name), Aunt Norah & her husband, Aunt Norah's first husband, & Joey all came by. A few hours later I left & just relaxed at my place.

Everything is back to normal, basically. My mother said that my grandmother is really lonely & doesn't want to change the sheets because they smell like my grandfather. It's going to take time, but she's a resilient old bird & has a bazillion people who will be there for her. My father, on the other hand, hasn't cried once. He wasn't close to my grandfather either & seems to be compartmentalizing. So my mother & I are kind of waiting to see what will happen with that.

Sorry this was such a long post. There was so much to say, & I just didn't feel like dealing with it right after it happened. Also, sorry about any typos. Don't feel like proof-reading.

P.S. I didn't include the part where my parents (& to a degree Aunt Norah) got in a fight with one of my cousins because it's really stupid. Like so stupid that I didn't realize it was a real fight for a little bit despite the fact that I was standing there for almost the whole thing.

P.P.S. I also forgot to include where one of my uncles showed up to the funeral drunk. He didn't act it, but you could smell it.

New Posts Are Coming

Remember back in the day when I posted on here semi-regularly? Well, those days are coming because my current situation is about to be over.

I seriously have so much to write about that I'm expecting to do about 3 or 4 in a row.

A Piece Of Lent

So, to those of you not versed in the Christian tradition, we are now at the beginning of Lent. What is Lent, you may ask? Well...that's a good question.

Having grown up the son of a Methodist minister, I always remembered hearing it mentioned but because I was so young I never participated in any of the "festivities." Those festivities being the sacrificing of crap for Adult Jesus.

Once my parents & I started attending more...charismatic churches (not Pentecostal Holiness. No one pretended to be an animal & not everyone prayed in tongues) it wasn't mentioned as much. Then I went to Toccoa & it was mentioned a lot more (but I didn't sacrifice anything because screw that).

Then last year when I was in college, it seemed like everyone & their mother (not my mother though) gave up something for the 40 days leading to Easter. Not me, though! But that is a thing of the past.

This year, I have decided to "celebrate" Lent. So for the next 40 days, I am giving up cussing.

Yes, that's right.

Katie is giving up chocolate (& possibly white bread). Most people give up food items, electronic stuff, & that kind of junk. But not me! I'm taming my tongue (that's what she said).

The reason for this is primarily because I cuss way too much. I think it makes me sound uneducated & ignorant. That isn't to say that I'm against cussing. Far from it! I think it's hilarious when people cuss. But this is just something I myself need to rein in. This has been something I've been meaning to do for a while now, so by piggy-backing it with this hot mess, it might make it easier since everyone will be miserable at the same time.

A guy from my small group (sort of?) is joining me in this endeavor. I had a successful first day, but he did not. Go me! I told him that we are allowed to cuss if they're song lyrics. We are also allowed to cuss in another language because English is the official language of God & the only one He respects.

Why do I have a bad feeling this won't last long at all?

Edit: So, I was having my friend David read this as soon as I posted it. He noticed a typo. Guess what I did? Well, let's have the screen capture tell the story...

...................it's going to be a long Lent, folks.

The Story Of My Move

Remember back when I was living with Skidmark? And remember that time I moved with little fanfare? Well, here is the story of the move. There really isn't much to report but I figure that since my time living in The Porn Nexus (t.m. Caleb) was a bit epic that I need to at least include the resolution.

After toying with the idea of moving since about a month after I moved in with Le Skidmark, I had started to actively pursue housing leads. I had checked out a place in December that was less than a mile from my job. It was with a guy from my church (who I had never met but I knew people who knew him), & it was pretty nice. I was just incredibly hesitant to accept it because I'd be losing a lot of space, it was more expensive, I'd have to actually move, & I wasn't sure I trusted my new roommate. Not that he gave me any reason not to trust him. But just after my past roommate experiences (My Giant, Skidmark, Really Conservative Guy) & life experiences in general (Bi-Sexual Wiccan, Truck Driver, Mexican Stalker, Other Stuff) I had trust issues. Understandably.

Well, after I found the blood splatters on the bathroom mirror (& on the faucet knob) I decided that enough was enough. After dilly-dallying & trying to coordinate everything, I pushed the move up a week.

I wish I could say it was really dramatic, hilarious, or tragic. I really do. Because that isn't as boring as this. But (un)forunately everything went well. Skidmark took the news well, & even had an ad for my replacement on Craigslist the day I told him (replacement has since moved in).

The only thing to note is that I told him that the reason I was moving was because "certain behaviors" made me uncomfortable & that it might be a good idea for him to tell future roommates so they weren't thrown into this whole world without knowing. He apologized for me being uncomfortable. And the day I moved we didn't even say goodbye. We did speak, but I can't remember what all was said. It doesn't matter anyway.

I had to switch out my beds though. The bed I had while living with Skidmark was a full, but my new room would have been a lot more cramped if I had used it. So a switch was made with the bed I had used while living in Toccoa with my dad (a twin). While switching the beds (& dropping off other random items that I didn't need), my mother made a new best friend in Amaris, a girl from my small group. They seriously talked the entire time the guys (including me) were moving the stuff.

So here I am. I've been living here for a month & a half. It's been great so far. I actually spend more time out of my room than I do in it. I have my own bathroom, so any blood to be found has an obvious source (oh wait....).

Ruh Roh

It is pretty common knowledge that I'm not exactly the most graceful human on the planet. In fact, I've referenced this fact a few times in the past (most notably in this story). Well, this post will just be about some of my "greatest hits", if you will.

1. When I was a toddler, my parents had put me to bed & were in the other room. They heard a loud crash & me screaming. I had somehow managed to fall out of my crib.

2. It was Easter Sunday, 1991. I was 5 & dressed like a dapper little gentleman. We lived next door to the church my dad was the pastor of at the time & somehow between the church & our house I fell in a puddle & was completely covered. My dad didn't find it as humorous as my mother did.

3. When I was in kindergarten I was going to participate in a Walk-A-Thon fundraiser. During practice for it (I have no idea...) I fell & pulled a muscle in my leg so badly that I couldn't walk for a week. If I remember correctly I mentioned this incident.

4. When I was 8 I tried to see how far I could jump off of an end table. Definitely didn't get very far & dented an antique lamp.

5. During the summer of 1996 I was part of a soccer league. During a game I was (typically) not paying attention & looked up to see the ball coming immediately at my head. Definitely went down & when I opened my eyes, my dad was over me, along with some players, the referee, & the coach. I definitely got knocked-out for a little bit.

6. During another game I couldn't get out of the way fast enough & the ball hit me full force in the stomach. The bench was warmed by me for a while after that.

7. Age 14. Riding my bicycle around the neighborhood. Stood up to peddle faster when the right peddle slipped & the gripper things went into my leg. I was gushing blood & had to walk about a half-mile with a bloody leg. People kept walking by me, staring, & turning their heads. Assholes.

8. Another bike story. I stood up to peddle faster out of the driveway & sat back down, squishing one of my balls between my leg & the seat. Somehow, I made it back inside but laid down a while.

9. My first day working at Jersey Mike's I fell with a tub of mayonnaise. Of course, the tub broke & it went everywhere. Luckily it didn't get on me because I probably would have quit.

10. Second time I worked at the movie theater, I fell on my face opening a door. I turned the knob & just....fell. Into the lobby. Hmmmm.....

11. One time this old lady needed help getting back to her movie theater, having gotten lost while going to the bathroom. I told her I'd help her & as I turned around to walk out of the box-office, I walked face-first into the back of it. She just looked at me & said, "I think I'll be fine on my own" & went on her way.

12. When I worked at Jersey Mike's the second time, I sliced part of the tip of my thumb off on the meat slicer. My co-workers thought I cut myself so they cleaned the knife & not the slicer. Ooops. By the way, I still have an indention from my missing flesh.

13. Another time I spilled some juice & didn't clean it up immediately. Guess who then slipped a little while later & landed on the mat just next to it, thus scraping the crap out of his knee...

14. Same shift as above. Slipped & hit my head on the bread rack on my way down.

15. College in Georgia. Slipped & slid down a muddy hill on my butt. Right?

16. My nickname at Applebee's was "Dammit Andrew" for a reason. I was always spilling, dropping, breaking things. However, I only dropped a plate of food once, & only spilled a tray of drinks once. However, I was known to accidently knock into a fellow server & make them spill their stuff...

17. On Halloween 2008, I slipped at the end of the shift talking to Alexis & grabbed the dressing cart about 10 minutes before closing. Somehow only 2 dressings spilled, but I was covered in water & some dressing. I took the cart out back to spray it off with the hose. My manager didn't find it humorous until the force from the water hose made the dressing splash all over me. Then he said it was funny.

18. At the beginning of a shift I had to get milk out of the cooler for the bartender. I gave it a shake as I was walking up front & apparently, I got a jug that had already been opened & the cap flew off, covering me in milk. I smelled fantastic.

19. During a busy shift I fell down the steps of my section when a table tried to get my attention as I was walking away.

20. I wasn't super clumsy in Florida because I didn't do much of anything. I did trip a lot, though.

21. I've been going on a rampage at my current job, breaking & spilling everything in my path. Oops.

The Perfect Storm

Instead of finishing any of the homework that is progressively piling up & stressing me out, I have decided to share with you all a very special story.

When I was 14, I visited a Lutheran church with my friend Courtney. Growing up Protestant, we always used grape juice for communion, but those Lutherans know how to get it done. Granted, I only had a super small sip, but I knew alcohol & I would someday become friends.

While I worked at the movie theater (both times) & during my year in high school & tenure at community college, I was around people who drank a lot but I never partook. This wasn't necessarily because I thought it would be wrong. No, it was because I never got invited to anything where there was alcohol. Judging from how things played out later, maybe it was good I didn't discover the Magical Drink for a while.

January, 2007. I was 20 & beginning my 2nd semester at "real college" in Georgia. I had been invited to go to Florida by some guys (including Robyn, who visited me last summer in Florida) to go with them & visit another friend (Neil) who had transferred at the end of last semester. The whole trip was kind of wonky, with Neil & Robyn up each others butts, Dan constantly texting his underage girlfriend, & me just kind of there. There was a lot of drama going on back in Georgia & I was preoccupied with that hot mess.

Let me go on & put this out here: I've changed a lot since then. I was even more awkward at that time & more socially inept. Because of that, I was treated like a...pet? Does that make sense? It still happens some now, but not to the same degree. People treat me like I'm this retarded child who can occasionally do tricks (such as making inappropriate comments & saying ridiculous things) but can't really take care of himself.

Anyway. We had access to alcohol, because of course we did. In the course of about an hour, I had drank Skyy vodka, multiple Smirnoff Ice, Starbucks liqueur, Jack Daniels, & maybe some wine & beer. I don't remember that part. But needless to say, I was completely blasted off my ass. In fact, I was so drunk that I decided it would be a good idea to walk around outside naked. I then proceeded to go into the bathroom & announce that I was going to try to masturbate. My friends didn't like that so much, so they did everything they could to distract me from the other room. It worked. I was unpleased.

By this point, I was wearing underwear. That doesn't necessarily mean that I was wearing them correctly. There were pictures of me sprawled on the couch with my...friends just laying about. I also told Robyn I hated him because he had weaseled in my friendship with Neil (this wasn't the first time something like that had happened to me). I was a hot damn mess.

But guess what! I had nary a hangover the next day. Luckily, I never had another night like that again. Yes, there was another naked drunk night a few years later (connected to a drinking game) but I never again yelled at anyone or tried to get my wank-on while other people were around.

Granted, the rest of the trip was complete mookie. I basically had a nervous breakdown the next night because of stress & feeling left out by the other 3 & almost killed myself. Then I told my dad about everything that happened & he threatened to cut me off financially (like from the $2,000 in my savings account that was technically in their name). It also set off a chain reaction of events for the rest of the semester that led to me almost transferring to another school.

But if nothing else, I learned that I love drinking.

Why I Want To Bring The Rage Onto Verizon

So here is the damn blog about my Verizon problems.

When we got cell phones back in the early/mid-2000's, my parents & I were all about some Altell. But when my dad moved to Georgia in 2007 for his job (conveniently "coincidentally" in the same small town I went to college) he began an account with Verizon. Once my contract was up with Altell, he put me on his plan for Verizon. Wonderful. I loved them. We had no problems, aside from the battery-life of my phone being shit after a while.

Then last year before I moved to Florida, it was time for an upgrade so I got the EnV3 (my mother had the EnV2 & loved it). I had a hard time adjusting to the keyboard & it had difficulty taking pictures but overall I was happy. Until it began turning itself off. I had assorted problems over the next year & it got to the point where I had to get a new one. Unfortunately, the issue with the camera was so bad that all of my pictures that had been transferred from my previous phone were forever lost. Some of those were 3 years old, & others had sentimental value (such as the last picture I got to take with my grandmother a month before she died, though luckily I put that on Facebook).

They gave me a new EnV3, but it wouldn't let me access my voicemail & also had my number as unavailable when I called people. They couldn't fix that, so I got a new EnV3. This one.

This one also turns itself off at will, but the problem right now is that the speaker is broken. I also have to slam the send & end button to get them to work. The alarm still works. I can still play my ringtones. But I can't talk on the phone. That is a problem indeed.

So I went to Verizon over by where I work. The employee said it was unfixable (but didn't say anything about the speaker) & that my warranty was up so I am S.O.L. I decided that this was a time to get my dad involved, since the account is in his name.

That was why I went home the other day. After the tire incident my dad & I went to Verizon. That was when we were told about the speaker. We were also told that I could buy a used phone but that was all I could do. I told them that honestly, this is their problem since it's my 3rd fucking phone in a year so obviously their product sucks. We also mentioned that we were thinking about cancelling our plan. Didn't do any good.

So now I'm stuck with a phone I can only text on, & whenever I can hear someone on the other end, their voice is incredibly distant & they sound like the teacher from "Charlie Brown" ("Wah wah wah wah wah").

I told my dad to write a letter to the C.E.O. I'm not going down without a fight. Especially if I can use my dad as a warrior & he can take the blows.

Why I Almost Brought The Rage At Wal-Mart

Since apparently my rage issues at Wal-Mart & with Verizon have become the talk of my blog (you guys are lame), that's what I'll write about next. First, Wal-Mart.

So I went home to get away from Skidmark & also deal with the Verizon issue. But on top of that, I needed to get new tires since they almost failed me on my inspection because the metal was showing in one of them (oops). So my dad set-up for me to get new tires at Wal-Mart. And I went.

As I drove around to the car section, I see that there is both a tire lane & an oil lane. The tire lane was blocked off so I got into the oil lane, hoping for some direction. That direction came in the form of a woman who mumbled so badly I couldn't understand her very well aside from her telling me I needed to get into the tire lane. I told her I couldn't pull over there, so she moved part of the barrier for me. I get in the tire lane. She then comes over waving her arms (way to be dramatic, precious) & tells me in a snotty tone of voice (I could tell it was snotty because she enunciated more than before) that I needed to park in the parking lot & they would come get my car. I told her in a slightly snotty tone (because I can't fully commit sometimes) that I was just doing what she told me, & she agreed.

Wait. What?

So she moves yet ANOTHER barrier so I can go park. I peel over there (which made quite the statement in a gold Ford Taurus [remember, it belongs to my mother]) & stomp my way inside. Every time I saw her after that I gave her an evil glare.

And almost everyone I saw looked like they had Down's Syndrome.

Verizon post will be separate.

Most Boring Post Yet? Perhaps.

I got pulled over last night because the car I was driving (belonging to my mother) had an expired registration & inspection sticker. I've been driving it since I moved to Raleigh because my Focus was on its last leg & my parents didn't want me to explode. However, they told me I didn't need to take care of anything until January. Turns out they were wrong.

I thought about it earlier this week about how I needed to get it done so I texted my mom, who told my dad, who texted me, saying it was actually December. Lovely. I have been working from early morning until late afternoon this whole week (until today) so I haven't had time to get it done. While I was leaving my small group at church I saw a cop next to me, & I knew what was going to happen.

And it did.

Luckily he was nice, young, & possibly flirting with me. I told him the truth, & that I was going to go tomorrow (today) & get it inspected. He let me leave.

I got it inspected today & passed. Accidently. He said he didn't mean to pass me since the metal was showing on one of the tires. Oops. So I got 2 new tires today when I came home to visit my parents.

I also almost brought The Rage on a lady who worked at Wal-Mart but that story won't translate well to blog.

I also realized that quite a few of the people at Wal-Mart today looked like they had Down's Syndrome on top of their typical slow appearances.

Also, Verizon can suck a fat one. That's a different post altogether.

Could this be my most boring, rambling post ever? Perhaps. I'm a terrible blogger.

The Time My Parents Were Almost Investigated By DCFS Because Of An Injury I Gave Myself

Ok, so the winner of the last poll was choice #1, which was the time I almost had my parents investigated by DCFS because of an injury I gave myself. Here is the story...........

It was around the 4th of July in 1993. I was less than a month away from turning 7. After having run errands as a family all day, my dad decides to give me a bath. I didn't really care one way or the other, & just viewed the whole ordeal as something to be tolerated. As he was drawing the bath, I got it into my creative brain that it would be a good idea to dance on the toilet. I put the lid down & started a'movin' & a'groovin'. Until the lid shifted & I felt & hit my head on the bowl.

That's right. I fell off the toilet & hit my head on it.

My dad, living in a constant state of confusion, didn't really know what had happened. My mother, who had been changing clothes, ran into the bathroom topless (I wasn't unconscious. Yet.) & yelled, "He's bleeding!" My dad said, "Where?" & my mom yelled, "His face!"

Sure enough, there was a big cut directly next to my eye that was gushing blood. My parents knew a nurse in town so they called her up to see if she could give them an opinion about whether or not I needed stitches. I was going in & out of consciousness, but I remember the nurses kids staring at me like I was a retard (duh).

It was decided I needed to go to the hospital, because no shit. I don't remember too much after that except speeding to the hospital (don't remember who was driving) & going into the bathroom at the hospital & looking in the mirror & being able to see bone. But apparently what happened that I don't remember was my parents getting the third degree about how I got the injury. The doctors & nurses couldn't believe that I would dance on the toilet. In fact, they were going to call DCFS on my parents because they were so sure that my parents had abused me. It wasn't until I semi-consciously confirmed the story that they backed-off & realized that yes, I am that weird.

And I still have that scar today. Some people think it's a dimple because as I grew up my face stretched out. But a few people know the truth.

God, I'm such a moron.

I Never Stood A Chance

My parents obviously hated me.

The Bisexual Wiccan

It was about a month after the whole court case involving Rummy was resolved & I was still working at the theater. About two hours before closing time was to arrive, this guy I knew, "Bobby," & his girlfriend came in. I knew Bobby because his ex-girlfriend & I went to church together & he worked at the grocery store closest to my house. Anyway, we started talking & the topic of their being Wiccan came up. I found the topic genuinely interesting, plus the fact that I was incredibly lonely, so we decided that after their movie was over & after I got off work we'd go to Dunkin' Donuts.

While at Dunkin' Donuts things started getting uncomfortable. Both of them started talking about my aura, which whatever. I don't really believe that stuff. But unfortunately, they believe it very much & were quite adamant that mine was purple (I don't even know what that means). The girlfriend had to split, but Bobby wanted to still hang out. I agreed. Since Rocky Mount sucks, there wasn't much to do other than go to a house. His house, to be exact.

By this point it was around midnight. His house wasn't too terribly far from mine so it wasn't super inconvenient. He said we could only hang out outside or in his room. His room happening to be in the basement. No biggie. What was a biggie, though, was that his walls were covered in pentagrams that were drawn in blood. And he had other Satanic things around there. Oh, ok.

He tried to get me to drink but I passed, because I was a good boy back then. We went back outside & he kept trying to scare me, flirting. We went back inside & sat on his mattress. Well, I sat. He laid down & kept trying to force me to lay down with him. I eventually did lay down, but didn't put my head on the pillow (that would have been too far). Then he started talking about having sex with guys at work & asking me if I had ever been with any guys. No, I said. Then the conversation turned to Wicca. He started talking about all of these ceremonies & rituals & what they meant. Then he wanted to try something...

Now, I know you're probably thinking he upped his game & put more moves on me, but that wasn't it. Instead, he held both of my hands & pushed his energy through me. And I will tell you something: I felt something. After that, I felt really weird. Around 5am (sheesh) I went home. Later that day my parents found out how late I had been out & they freaked, especially when they found out what happened. They gave me a curfew (I was 19 & had no friends) & called our pastor, making me go to a meeting with him.

Bobby kept trying to hang out with me but I wasn't allowed to hang out with him. It was so frustrating that the only option I had at the time to hang out with anyone & my parents ruined it. Though technically I ruined it by telling them what had happened. But they totally overreacted. While yes, it was creepy & yes, me going down into the basement was incredibly unsafe, I ended up being fine. It was actually a precursor to a whole bunch of crap that was later to follow i.e. me getting myself into really bizarre situations.

Bobby & I are now friends on Facebook & occasionally talk. I saw him last summer at Books-A-Million (Barnes & Noble's retarded cousin) & he seems to be doing...pretty crappy. He is a total pothead & works at a pizza place. And he's still very bi.

Some Thoughts

I've been home for the past few days. I needed to take a bit of a mental break from my smothering depression I've been feeling lately. It's been surprisingly nice. My parents have been very understanding & on their best behavior. It almost restores my faith in love. Almost.

There's so much I have to do for class this week & I'm not motivated at all. In the slightest. I really, truly think a break is needed. If I'm going into the helping profession in any capacity, I need to be more healthy & right now that's not the case. Maybe if I take a break I can truly appreciate what an awesome opportunity I have in being able to have this education. As it is, I feel like I'm half-assing my assignments & not even trying in the writing department. Most of the written assignments I've done I've written like a blog post. So that's not good. But then again, my professor hasn't given me any grades or comments back so who knows.

I was talking to Alexa the other night. We think we're in such a crappy place of life. We're still young & supposed to be enjoying life, but also have these weird responsibilities. It's like we're Half-Adults. But hopefully, HOPEFULLY things will start looking up. I can definitely tell a change in my mindset so there's that.

On another note, My Little Porn Star actually engaged in a minor conversation with me the other day as I was leaving. I was shocked, too. Granted, I initiated to tell him I would be out of town for a few days but he actually acknowledged I lived there. Progress!