#one of our friends referred to it as ''white girl daycare''

[roseband]

now i have to spend the next year explaining to my fiance that tokyo disneyland/disney sea is a non-negotiable and we're REQUIRED to spend 2 days there

[lostinthe-pines-blog]

Pain Can Heal

One-Shot Story about Chris x MC dealing with Chris’s past abandonment and loss from his father and how it affects them now. 

My September 10th “Loss” addition to @i-dream-so-i-write ‘s September Fanfic Challenge ( @choices-september-challenge)

NOTE: This is a fictional story based on Pixelberry’s Choices App. *The Freshman books. I am not affiliated with Pixelberry nor do I own the rights to their original characters.

Late June, light breeze and a burning sun; not as bright as it would be in the following months but still burning like a growing fire. It didn’t matter how many years had past June would always haunt Chris. As the eldest sibling in his family he was the only one with a distinct memory of this month. Even now, with kids of his own late June hung over his head.

Looking crossed the cotton white sheets he saw her, the woman he’d fallen for, literally. Almost 12 years ago on the quad he’d bumped into the hazel eyed, auburn haired novelist he didn’t know he’d been dreaming about. He can remember every fight and every touch with her. He knows her every move and aspiration, even still in her thirties she wanted to take on the world. She inspired him.

Sometimes he still felt his heart skipped a beat just looking at her, and even more so these days. He loved looking at the forming smile lines and wrinkles that mirror his own as age became them.  In his two beautiful children he saw her come alive. But with late June looming over his head the thoughts and memories fell back to his childhood.

Chris had been trained on the streets surrounding his house, he’d learned every house every neighbor and every route home from his elementary school. Summer had just begun, he’d be going into the fifth grade in the coming fall and he fully intended on making him and his misfit friends the kings of the playground. They needed to take advantage of the jungle gyms and allowed recesses before they were stolen from them by the growing of age. He road his bike around the blocks waving to Mr. and Mrs. Prince the elderly couple who’d given him this bike when their own grand kids had grown out of it. As he approached his house as the sun began to fade he admired the home, it was small but it was his. Chris loved his life, the cares and worries of the world had yet to sink into him, but they would. Sooner than he thought. Looking up his driveway he noticed his Father's old red truck missing, strange but not enough to worry him. He ditched his bike near the front steps of his house running inside quickly. There was a tone in the air that even a child could feel.

“Mom, I’m back” he called kicking off his dirt covered tennis shoes. Not noticing the many shoes now missing from the pile behind the door. He noticed his little sister, almost one years old sleeping in portable crib, most of his friends had mocked their sisters but he loved his. She was small and gross with her screaming and spitting. He was fascinated by her. Continuing his walk through the small entryway he heard a noise that his innocent and young ears should never have had to hear. The sound was chilling the cries of his mother, the noise was laced with pain and tears as she screamed not knowing her eldest had entered. The sound unfamiliar still startled the young boy as he wandered to the kitchen finding his mother, head in her knees sitting against the light tan wood and rusting hinged cabinets.

“Mom?” he asked again, he’d only seen tears like that come from the infant in the next room. The eyes that loved him, the eyes that tucked him in at night were now tear stained and red staring up at him shocked.

“Christopher!” she spoke startled through her shaking breath, Lily, Chris’s mother had her own emotional past. She’d become good at hiding her pain, only showing it when completely necessary. As she saw her son she also saw him, she saw the man who only hours ago had left her life, forever. She wiped her tears quickly pushing back the anger that her ten year old had instilled in her with nothing but the features of his face. She knew he was not his father, and her current state was not a sight her son deserved to see. She stood quickly hiding her emotions though her legs felt like broken twigs. “Chris, I’m sorry… How were your friends.. I..” she trailed trying to find a perfect excuse for why she was sprawled out on the kitchen floor.

Chris would learn a lot about growing up and what it meant in the coming months but for right now the only reference he had for what he was supposed to do in this moment was the memories of his siblings as infants. When they cried his parents would hug them, so his small and growing mind did just that. He ran over to his mother hugging around her stomach where his height had landed him, he closed his eyes squeezing tight and hugging her to stop the crying as she had when he was younger.

“Good morning” The weak sound of MC’s voice spoke as the familiar greys of her eyes met with his own. Chris had taken a business trip for two weeks and last night had been his first night home. He longed for her warmth every single day, he couldn’t imagine walking away from her as his father had his own mother.

“It’s June 26th” he spoke letting the blues of his eyes fade darker with is tone, this pain of loss what something Chris would never shake. Not as a 15 year old, nor as a college student and now as a parent he still questioned his father's actions.

“I know.” MC said pulling her hand from the covers of the bed and placing it gently crossed his cheek. “And you’re Christopher Powell.” she smiled “You’re a father, and a husband and you have a wife who does not fear you. Your last name does not belong to him, it belongs to us, to the Powell family you’ve created”

“We’ve created” he corrects her softly.

She shows her white teeth now moving closer to kiss him softly as she pulls away her face winces with a sharp pain.

“MC?” Chris asks worried now, but his face softens when her pain turns to laughter.

“Guess our baby is awake too.” she smiles taking his hand his her own and placing it on her stretched abdomen. “Only a little over a week before she makes her appearance, a family of five, do you think we’re ready?” she jokes.

“More than ready.” he lies with confidence, ever since she’d told him she was pregnant last fall he’d worried more and more about his family's history.

Frank Powell was a father of 3, two young sons and a bouncing baby girl. The families around the block admired his masculinity. The young Powell lovers had made a life for themselves in the backstreets of Maine. He worked every day for his family and Lily too. She’d been teaching piano lessons and tutoring the kids from neighborhoods far richer than her own. Frank would come home at the same time every day, and not a minute later. He’d kiss his wife first and then his eldest son moving next to the truly neglected middle child and ruffling his hair. It the final months before he left he’d add a tickle to the infant girl usually wrapped in his wife's arms. There was no sign of straying, no sign of unhappiness. Frank had become very good at hiding his doubts, fears and emotions.  But one day, he snapped in more than just a mental way. It was years before Lily told her son the full truth behind the events of June 26th. But Chris as an 18 year old readying himself for college life was old enough in her eyes to know now...

“Senior year wasn’t easy to you but I think you came out on top.” Lily spoke as she spread a thin layer of butter crossed an only slightly burnt piece of toast. The breakfast she’d made her son everyday since the first day of kindergarten. “I can’t believe you head off to Hartfeld next week.” she spoke laughing through the pain that it caused her. “Mom, I’m only 6 hours away and I’m going to call you at least once a week, probably even more.” Christopher spoke taking the breakfast from his mother, he wasn’t foolish he noticed the tone changing in her over the past few weeks. He knew that he looked like his father, that his blue eyes haunted his mother for the rest of his life. He was aware that him leaving would bring back unwanted memories, the scars on her heart were aching with the idea of it. He didn’t realize the details being unveiled to him as their conversation continued but he almost believed he was living in that moment, seeing things the way his mother had seen them...

Lily had started to notice her husbands attitude change over the course of the past weeks, he became more tidy and quiet. He’d been cleaning and organizing all his things like he’d never done before. She didn’t want to question it, figured it was the result of stress from work. Regardless of his change in behavior he still seemed overjoyed at the sight of his children, especially his youngest, his perfect newborn girl.  When Lily woke on June 26th that year she didn’t expect at all the events of the day. She tied Chris’s shoes and sent him off on his bike for the day, he was supposed to be meeting with friends a few blocks away. She trusted him to make his way back in time for dinner. Her youngest son, the recent 5 year old was always dropped off at Daycare by his father before work, so when his room was empty she knew right where he was. She was going to be home almost completely alone just her and little Josephine who’d been a refreshingly calm child compared to her older brothers. She planned a trip to the grocery store which ended up tuning into running countless errands and taking hours out of what was supposed to be a relaxing day.

When she arrived back home she was shocked to find the red pick up truck in the driveway, she’d fallen in love inside that truck, it’d created so many happy memories for her and today it would unknowingly create the most painful of her memories. So shocked to see it there mid day she didn’t even acknowledge the back end full of boxes.

“Frank?!” she called, “What are you doing home?” she quickly placed Josephine in her crib and searched the house for her husband. Turning to climb up the stairs she saw him at the top, two large suitcases in hand. Her heart sunk in that moment, she began to notice things missing from her home, but nothing that was hers. She swallowed hard the dryness of her throat like sandpaper. “Going away on business?” she questioned, knowing she was wrong.

“Lilian.” Frank said flatly, it was almost disconnected, he’d never called her Lilian not since they’d met, she’d always been his Lily Flower. “I’m leaving.” he spoke stepping down the stairs not thinking twice about pushing past her. But Lily wasn’t weak, she was stronger than most women, it’d been what Frank found most attractive about her. Lily was quick to block the bottom of the stairs. Her voice shaky and hard now.

“Why!” she yelled letting denail set in, as her stages of grief began.

“The family is better off with out me. I’ve made my choice Lilian, move.” Frank spat back at her, showing an unfamiliar anger in his eyes.

“No! We’re a team, we work through things, we have three kids what am I supposed to do? You’re leaving me with them alone! What kind of man does that make you?!” she screamed now rambling in her panic, her face only inches from his own.

“I’m half the man you deserve, half the man these kids deserve.” he said his head hanging low as frustration built in him. “Now move I won’t ask again.” he voice dark.

“I won’t. I can’t” Lily responded and she wasn’t lying her body and mind in shock she felt as if she was trapped where she stood “I love you.” she said softly in a last a desperate attempt to keep him with her.

“I no longer can say the same.” he said his familiar blue eyes now black with regret. Something in him was different now and he used it against her, pushing her harshly aside as she banged her body into the banister. The harshness of the force had him touching her in ways he’d never done before, his hands that were full of hate and would leave bruises on her for weeks reminding her that the husband she knew was gone forever.

Losing her balance at the attack of his hands she fell to the ground watching him walk out the door, she came too soon enough to watch his red truck leave forever, to watch the memories of her college years in the bed of that useless medal fade away. She collapsed to complete nothingness on the floor of the kitchen where she’d stay for hours before the best man she knew, -no matter what his age- came to save her.

Chris listened to the hidden secrets of that day, he’d never felt so sorry for his mother before, he’d always known her to be strong and independent since then. But he’d never known that she carried injuries with her that were more than just mental. “Are you going to be okay?” Chris asked.

Lily knew her son, she knew family was the most important thing to him and that he would give up everything he’d worked for just to be with them still. She was sad to watch him leave, to watch him grow. But she knew he needed to go. Tears pooled around her eyelids at the end of her story as she nodded to her strong son “Yeah.” she smiled as her squinting eyes let the tears spill over. “We’ll be okay Chris, we’ll certainly miss you but we’ll be okay.” Lily said turning to nurse her coffee as she had for so many mornings before.

MC saw through the lies of her husband, but didn’t dwell on them. June 26th was not the day to dwell, it hadn’t been. Not since she met him, she’d made a point to make every June a celebration of how far he’d come. Of the accomplishments he’d made without the need of a father. “I love you Chris.” she smiled now sitting up in bed just in time to meet the small face peeking through the door.

“And what do we have here…” Chris asked sitting up staring back the small blue eyes walking toward him. His eldest, Claire. The little girl who softened his already soft heart. The two of them shared may traits, his sandy blonde hair and his bright blue eyes. While the soon to be middle child shared the traits of his mother.

“Good morning!” the seven year old beamed climbing up onto the bed and finding her rightful place on her father's lap. “Hows my little sister” Claire smiled at her mother placing her hands on her large stomach.

Chris could help but chuckle at the sight of it, it wasn’t because it was funny by any means. It was sweet, to sweet and his laughter had come out of his pure happiness. He quickly wrapped his strong arms around his daughter. A girl who’d inherited the sarcasm of her mother.

Dramatically she reached for air gasping, “You’re choking me!!” Claire screamed with laughter “I can’t go on!” she laughed as the tight arms around her turned to tickles. Her playful yells filled the air of the entire house, and it wasn’t long before her 4 year old brother Gabriel joined them on the bed.

The family was picture perfect, something from a book or a movie. They were happy, an emotion that the two parents had been certain to instill in their kind hearted offspring. Gabe jumped up and down despite the hesitation from his mother, Chris’s strong arms wrapped both of the rambunctious children up squishing them together. When he released them they all sprawled out on the bed. Claire’s hand landing near her mother she pulled away quickly shocked by the change of texture in the sheets, before looking to her father.

“Mom wet the bed!” she mocked playfully.

Chris looked over to MC who now wore shock in her eyes as she held her stomach, a smile wiped crossed her face as she knew the hours to come would be long. “It’s time.” she grinned nodding to Chris “Family of five here we come.”

“Everyone off the bed!” he yelled as the children scrambled to the thick carpeted floor. “To your rooms, go change go! Go! Go!” Chris instructed them “Operation baby sister is in full swing.” as the kids ran to their rooms he watched as his beautiful bride climbed from the bed. It wasn’t long before he was on his feet and at her side.

MC wasn’t in any discomfort yet as her water had only just broken. She’d done this twice before, she knew how to listen to her body. She was completely calm but found it comical again how worried and unaware her husband was now and had been with the two children before.

“June 26th?” she laughed taking his hand tightly in hers.

“June 26th.” he smiled in return.

This day would no longer hold loss and pain for him. He would no longer have to think about the abandonment and selfishness of his father. Late that evening almost on the turn of the date to the 27th he and MC welcomed their newest child into the world. Even through her tears, sweat and pain MC was happy. She was happy for her family, for her husband and for the day that her sweet little girl had decided to arrive. Chris had been clear since learning the sex of the child that he only had one name for her. Lilian. MC didn’t fight it, she thought it was truly perfect. 

[prorevenge]

You mess with my cat, I'll bury you.

Sit back, this ended up kinda long.

TL;DR: Shitty coworkers let my cat live in filth for a week while I'm out of town, I get one demoted and crush the others life into dust.

I like to think I'm a patient man. I'm hard to anger, my coworkers say they haven't seen me angry in the 2 years they've known me. I have firm boundaries and as long as you don't cross any of them I can let anything go.

One of my boundaries is don't fuck with my cat.

This story is about 2 of my coworkers and me, and happened the winter of 2013.

So I worked at a veterinary hospital as a vet tech/kennel attendant, and coworker 1 is a kennel attendant(KA) coworker 2 is the kennel lead(KL). KA is the one who comes in to take care of the animals, KL is in charge of overseeing everything boarding and kennel related. They both crossed that very simple boundary.

I went away over Christmas since I lived in another state from my family, and while I was out I left my cat to board at work(one of the perks is free boarding). I trusted my coworkers would take care of him even if it was a top 2 busiest weekend of the year.

So, I set up his cage the night before I leave. He's a shy boy so i set up a tent with very distinct blankets(one is bright green, the other has rocket ships). I kiss him bye, and am on my way. I enjoy Christmas with family, candy and fudge, and other things unrelated to the story, and come back 6 days after leaving.

It's late when i get back, so the hospital is already closed and everyone has gone home. We all have a key so I swing by because I miss my cat and want to take him home.

What I am greeted by when I get to him is those same blankets, the white rocket ships now slightly tan/yellow damp with urine, old desiccated pieces of shit and smears on the wall, and a very stressed cat that smelled like pee. We're talking 6 days worth of filth. All they did was put in more food and change the litter box as far as I could tell.

I saw red.

KA, the attendant, was scheduled to take care of the animals that holiday. KL, the lead, had been there 3 different days I was gone, including the last 2. Figuring out how to destroy these people became the only thing i thought about.

I'm scheduled to work the day after I get back, and KA is there. I don't look at her all day, as it's the only way I could contol my emotions. My blood is still boiling thinking about my boy who I'd had to bathe the night before(much to his chagrin). The sight of her makes that primal part of my brain reserved for beating the shit out of things starts to burn and makes my muscles tense.

(Now some important backstory here is that KA is kind of terrible at her job. We were kind of friends since she was the only one who wasn't shitty to me when I first started. Whenever I'd find something she messed up, I'd gripe to myself but I'd fix it. She did some write-upable shit on a regular basis. I never did anything because KL was already aware and working on her so I figured 'eh, none my bidness.')

I decided against violence and figured I'd let my manager handle it. At first, I just told him about the condition of my cat and kept the rest to myself. He agreed it was unacceptable and said he'd talk to her. She denied everything, said she'd changed my cats bedding every night, that he didn't get all of it in the litter box(unfortunately true, 12lb cat[not fat] aiming at a box made literally for kittens). Basically said I lied to my manager, to my managers face without batting an eye. I gave her the chance to own up to it because that would've come with punishment enough.

My manager told me what she said, and her blatant bullshittery poked the dragon that was already awake and pissed. I told him she's fucking lying, I work in the kennel too and not to mention I know my cats shit well. He believes me, and I not so subtly point out that if she pulls this shit on an employee pet, what has she been doing with the lot of random boarders? Manager thought it was a good point, and asks me to keep an eye out for mistakes and let him know what I find.

The next day, I was in the kennel alone without her, and I began to document every single thing she did incorrectly. Remember me saying how crap she was at her job? She left me a treasure trove of shit to dig up.

To name a few of these nuggets, every single animals cage was filthy, like multi-day filthy like my cats was, two dogs had had their medications switched for the whole week, there were copious amounts of shit left in the yard(big no-no, spreads parasites and disease), and not even her documentation and charges were entered correctly. It was a trainwreck that took me the whole morning to get back to an acceptable condition.

There was material here to get her enough writeups to lose her job if she had been perfect before, and she had already been disciplined a couple times for other shit she pulled. I gather it all together and bring it to my manager, who is horrified and says he's setting up a meeting with me, KA and KL, and him to discuss it all. He encourages me to hold my temper and call them on their bullshit at the meeting. Until then I hadn't even considered KL's complicity in this bullshit, but I immediately realized there were 2 people on my wrong side. KL was not as horrid at his job as KA, he was old as hell in a demanding physical labor position. I figured what he'd got coming will be enough so I could aim everything I'd got at KA.

What's the human equivalent of shooting fish in a barrel? Because this girl had already dug herself such a hole it was incredible she hadn't been fired already. She didn't do her job, she was stealing clients from the clinic by offering to petsit for cheaper instead of offering boarding(explicitly against our contract, fireable). She had been leaving 30 minutes early leaving the shit condition I'd had to deal with. And I knew all of this.

The day of the meeting rolls around, and KA and KL are blissfully unaware when manager calls us into the office together. We all sit down and manager begins to explain what the meeting is about. He was a fucking boss and we prearranged to give KA one more chance to own up to my face and leave out the rest at first. He had asked me how far I wanted to take it, I told him I had a lot of dirt. Let's let KA dig a deeper hole first so I can use it all.

She denied it all, swore up and down she had taken care of my poor cat properly. I graciously gave her the benefit of the doubt, saying ok I believe you did clean like you say, but then how did you miss this dried up piece of shit? She said my cat must've been dehydrated. I say "oh, well you documented he'd been drinking well all week, why would he be dehydrated?" She says it might have been just from the last day. She wouldn't just admit it... So I give my manager the look, and he tells her "ok so you took care of the cat, what about all of this?" And he pulls out my stack of evidence I'd collected.

KA's face paled. KL had been silent up to this point and starts trying to apologize on KA's behalf, saying it was a busy week and things slip through the cracks. I called their shit, saying I had been able to handle as many animals as she had had to a higher degree of cleanliness than the 2 of them could accomplish, so busy was not a valid excuse.

We went over every single sin KA and KL had committed for the past 3 days, individually and in depth with discussion about each one before moving on. As we worked through the stack, manager wrote up KA for every single offence that warranted it. By the end of it she had 6 writeups(3 to get fired). She was sobbing, saying she couldn't afford her kids daycare if she didn't have that job. My manager very pointedly told her he had never seen someone with such terrible job performance in 30yrs, and if she were worried about her kids she would have done her job better.

KL was written up and removed from his lead position, and KA was given the option to quit before she was fired.

The end.

... hah! No it isn't. This is ProRevenge, not GirlOnlyLostHerJob. Oh no, there's so much more.

Remember how she had been stealing clients from the clinic? She had built up quite a large client base, and had told me some weeks before she was about to quit her job and petsit fulltime since she hates her job sooo much. Plus when she returned her key after quitting, she made sure I knew the crying was fake and she was planning to put in 2 weeks in the next couple days.

At the clinic, we still saw all of those same clients she had skimmed all the time, and plenty of them asked what happened to KA. Manager told everyone we should tell the truth, since we had a petsitter we referred to and KA was not it.

For the next few months, we saw so many faces twisted into expressions of disgust, contempt, betrayal, worry when we told them why KA was no longer there and why they should reconsider letting her watch their pets. Literally dozens of people. Anyone who has tried to petsit or do yardwork for a living before knows how hard it is to build that client base. KA had a decent one, which we absolutely destroyed.

After a while, she texted me saying I was a piece of shit who was destroying her and her kids life and she couldn't afford daycare anymore. She went from 2 or 3 petsitting gigs a week(about 300 dollars a week) to maybe 1 a month. I told her to fuck herself and blocked her number, and haven't heard anything since. Bitch.

Don't fuck with my cat.

Updates:

Edit for those saying I'm a shit human for letting this go as long as it did: KA and KL cleaned sometimes, just not enough for my standards. KA had only been there a few months and it was her first big girl job (yes, kidS at 20yrs old), and there's a small learning curve. I figured it'd be ok for a week and was poor as shit at the time so options were thin. Until that week, i was there constantly cleaning to my standards so didn't know how bad these 2 would really let it get. Protocol said lead is informed of performance issues before manager, and as i mention he was aware and KA had already been written up a couple times. I was done when i realized just how far they'd let it go so i went over KLs head right to manager because they clearly weren't handling the issues at all. Even if my cat wasn't affected, I would've done the same, he was just unfortunately there because i had to go out of town. In hindsight i wish I'd said something sooner, but workplaces have rules and i was young and tender, and didn't know it was that bad until then. But yes I'm a terrible person who abuses animals, gets people SWATted, I'm pompous and arrogant and only care when things personally affect me and my cat. You're right, reddit!

Edit 2: I'll take this opportunity to give some advice on how to pick a good kennel facility. Always, i mean ALWAYS, ask to take a tour before leaving your animal. Dont schedule an appointment, ask to go back randomly. If they try to say no, say you dont feel comfortable leaving your pet without an idea of where they're staying. If they still wont, and even a manager denies a tour, take your business elsewhere as they probably have something to hide.

If you do get a tour, here are some things to look out for. Check water bowls for grime and dirt. Some pets are messy, but if a good number are dirty, it's a big red flag.

If the kennel smells strongly of some kind of air freshener, be wary and look around for messes. A good kennel attendant will smell pee and clean and replace things until they get rid of the smell; a bad one will spray some animal odor eliminator and cover it up.

Make sure everything looks organized, properly labeled, and has some kind of system to it. Cluttered storage and unclear labeling is where so many mistakes come from; make sure they take those little things seriously, or something big may slip through the cracks.

Finding a good clinic and good boarding facility can be difficult, but they do exist. And just like you wouldn't want you or your child going to a shitty doctor or daycare, I don't want anyone taking their pets to a shitty veterinary clinic!

(source) (story by Amesa)

[metaldragoon]

When I was younger, I was really excellent at most athletics.  Not the best sprinter, but I still represented my school in the 100M and was unbeatable at 400M, 800M, 1500M, and high jump.  I played on the best school for soccer and basketball, and while I would never say I was “sociable” I was still surrounded by friends.  That was only until I was 10, so you might attribute to physically maturing at a faster pace than most kids, since I was also the tallest to go along with the fastest and most athletic.  My parents were starting to split up, they never officially divorced until I was like 14 but at around 8 they started living separately with small stints of living together again, and so I was mostly a daycare kid but I was with one of my best friends there and the only kid as athletic as me, though fortunately for track day he was a year older than me so I never had to compete against him.   My mom decided to get back in to teaching once I turned 10, which she had stopped since she was pregnant with me to take care of me, which I feel like makes so little sense because she worked at casinos and stuff until like 2 AM so I never saw her anyways, but, digressing, she found a full-time position.  Some desolate northern town where it reaches -50 and it’s a 4 hour drive to the next town.  I honestly was quite okay with the idea of moving.  I feel like most of my friends had moved and i was like cool, sick of being the lame-o with 40 year old parents and only lived in one house.  Also, being in a tiny town with no competition and training for sports all my life, I was like a whale shark in a fish tank, destroying all school records for my track events, and I feel like success never really mattered even, it just felt nice.  But each year there, being that it’s winter for about 7 months a year, and, weird of an excuse as it may be, the bugs and mosquitoes there are... so aggressive, it’s either too cold or I’m going to be choking on bugs and scratching my self of all my bites or getting bitten by fruit flies.  The sun is so affected by seasons, it’s dark at 3 PM in winter and sunny until 2 AM in the summer.   The point of these excuses is just that I lost my athleticism.  I am still above average, I guess, but I was slower than the year previous each of my 3 years living there.  People never ragged on me about it, I guess they just assumed I didn’t care was the reason, but I knew I just wasn’t as good as people anymore.  Kids that didn’t even play sports could keep up with me.  This is not very pitiable, but after losing all my friends from moving away, to lose my athleticism took it’s toll. My dad moved away from that northern town as my parents were officially done trying to be together, and I moved with him because I don’t know, I guess again it just felt exciting to be somewhere new.  I feel like as a kid all those complaints still didn’t really bug me, this is just looking back at the things that made me.  We moved in to some apartments, and while I would say I really enjoyed my time there, I guess this would be when I started having “depression.”  I never really felt like that’s how I felt.  My dad would work 3PM until midnight, sometimes I’d see him before he’d go to work, he’d make me dinner for me to eat later, and then I’d be by myself, playing computer games and listening to music and talking to lots of people online.  I’d make sure to go to bed around 11 so he wouldn’t know I stayed up, maybe have a little cry some nights because I don’t know, that just felt relieving, which of course it is, but whatever.  I lived about 20 minutes from school, so I’d walk myself to and from basketball practice and soccer was on the weekends so my dad would drive me there, and outside of that that’d be the only time I left the house unless my dad wanted me to go grocery shopping or something.  Something about my dad is that he is... stoic? completely unemotional? I don’t know.  I love him, and think he’s great, but he is not one for talking to his son about anything at all.  He disciplines me on the important things of life and is very reliable, but I feel like there’s no joy in his life or joking around, which I guess I just felt was normal since he was my only real contact.  I guess that’s why I liked being online so much.  I could be emotional and talk about things and be silly without thinking I’m disappointing my father, since he has no idea what I’m doing. I started having a lot of ankle problems, which I feel like honestly didn’t really affect my life, it just meant I missed time in sports, and eventually in Gr. 10 my knees started to go, which came to me giving up sports in Gr. 11 because the pain of practices just became too much and coaches weren’t willing to let me just use that as an excuse to only play in games.  Gr. 11 I moved with my mother who once again moved to some tiny remote town and I followed her, this time definitely under the influence of her emotional instability and feeling guilted about that.  I feel I really hit my low there, as I talked about with my injuries.  The town didn’t even have a soccer team and our basketball team was a joke anyways before I quit.  I was weighing about 250, I still feel like I was pretty athletic, but my knees would give out on me even just walking.  I feel I’ve always had this “pushing my body to extremes” from childhood that I’ve never adjusted to, because in my head I know I can work harder than anyone and succeed because I’m more athletic, and eventually they’ll give up, but they don’t because I’m not more athletic and it just destroys my body.  Maybe my adrenaline rush is just stronger than others because I feel like coughing and being completely out of breath, knees stinging and it being hard to walk because my feet are throbbing was just regular after a game but looking at it now I’m like there’s no way other people dealt with that.  Anyways, I don’t know, I’m just trying to say it was a very low point.  Ever since I heard Caitlyn Jenner talk about how all she did was train for the decathlon and football and everything when she was younger as just being referred to the “great distraction” for her transgender thoughts, which she didn’t understand and just thought were wrong ro something, I’ve found that pretty relatable.  Sports to me were the same things, a way to not be thinking about everything shitty about life.  Without that it was pretty much thinking about is killing my self worth disappointing my parents and making them think they did such a shitty job of raising me? Because that’s not what my suicide is about, and I don’t want them to blame themself, but I know it’s impossible to not.  That was basically my saving grace.  I’d also become pretty infatuated with a girl who I’d been friends with for about 3 years or so.  I know she didn’t like me back, as I had told her my feelings and she told me hers, but there’s always hope that she just hasn’t noticed what there is to like about me yet.  Looking back I feel like a “white knight nice guy here’s my fedora” fucking loser, but I like to also think I was a lot better than that too.  We were best friends and basically all my life was just typing to her and attending school.  My general sadness became directed towards her not liking me, because I always felt that yeah I’m a loser but I know I’m just in a bad spot and I have a lot of potential to be great... and for the person closest to me not to see that or be attracted to it when everything about her is attractive to me was really like a crushing blow to any kind of comfort I would have found in her.  Of course, she still was a great comfort but y’know, you go to bed alone and have insomnia and it’s hard not to focus and drive yourself down this negative road of how pathetic you are. I don’t know, Gr. 12 got a lot better as I moved back with my dad and got in much better shape and actually wasn’t afraid to express myself in English and actually got above C-’s in class.  My dad was living with another woman who’s now my step-mother and her son, who served as a wonderful little brother for me.  I still was a shell hiding in my room at home, but at least I’d have someone in person to joke with instead of devoting it all to my best friend with whom I would throw my emotions up and down on the roller coaster of my mind.  The year went by fine, I played more basketball and soccer and football.   I wasn’t the best, but I was still good I guess My dad, cold as he can be, had no interest in taking care of me past school, so the day after I graduated I moved away to my mother, where I stayed for a few months before moving with my friend in Winnipeg.  I went thinking one, she’s the only good thing in my life so I’ll at least be happy there, and two, hey, most people online “overrate” them self so it can be hard to be attracted when there’s that doubt, maybe the in-person version of me is what she’s been missing out on and I can still make her love me! Naive, of course, but I lived there for a few months.  It was good, but unfortunately I just wasn’t able to get a job and frankly I don’t know how the fuck people figure it out at that young of an age where they just get good jobs or apply to all the right things for post-secondary.  I moved back to my mom’s place, but she had moved in with her then-boyfriend, so I lived in her house she owned as just like an actual tenant, alone in a basement suite.  Those were some very cathartic times, I had a job as a dishwasher with 4 days on 4 days off, 6 hour days, so it would just be me doing absolutely nothing for 4 days until I worked.  Art, or talking to my friend more, drawing a bunch and reading and stuff.  Forming an obsession with Depeche Mode and anime.   Anyways, after moving away from Winnipeg, you know, it was really clear she wasn’t ever going to love me, I mean, it was probably plenty clear objectively a long time ago, but to the blinded fool that is metaldragoon he still always had hope.  But you know, I tried my best, showed her everything I was, and all I would do is cry all the fucking time about it and be miserable so to me I just decided I can’t be friends with her, ‘cus this is killing me.  I don’t remember what I said, but basically just said I didn’t want to talk to her.  I feel cutting her out made everything grey in life, I honestly didn’t get sad anymore, sure I’d cry here and there, but for the most part I didn’t feel negative because I wasn’t trying and failing, but not trying didn’t bring much happiness either.  It was an interesting time in my life, maybe a couple years, where I just wanted to exist and do whatever I did with my life back then.  Playing old games. Eventually I moved out of my mom’s and in to my aunt’s, got a job and moved out there to a basement once again, and lived there for I guess about 6 years.  That’s when I got in to Tumblr, a nice grey place for my grey existence, mindlessly reblog and eventually I got in to GIF making and I got praise for work, even if it waesn’t really “praise” but let me tell you a fucking like or a reblog on a GIF is some real juice and I became pretty devoted to that.  I’d just come home from work, scroll through my entire dashboard, and watch anime just to make GIFs of it.  Fa’ years!  Eventually I started befriending fellow GIF-maker unit-02, dishing out hot GIF tips with her, but of course no one can dish hot GIF tips without getting to know eachother a little better.  Eventually we started really talking the way I hadn’t talked in a long time, and it really felt great to have someone like that in my life again, and it’s gone so much further than any kind of relationship I’ve ever had with anyone.  I told her once I’ve never felt like I was truly the single most important person to anyone before, and it’s true and really quite... I don’t know how to put it better than extremely lame, but, quite a good feeling. Anyways, that’s basically my life.  I wanted to explain all that just to kind of not find a good way to talk about what I wanted to.  Over the last four years, I’ve started working full-time, 40hr weeks.  I’m married now, for almost a full year, and doing okay in life.  I own a house that costs me a lot of money and I make more money than I was ever thinking I would.  But the problem is, work has robbed me of self-reflection, it takes up so much time, I just don’t have time to think of things, sad or otherwise.  I’m married now, I always have someone who wants to talk with me, so even on the free times I did have to think about things, there’s someone there “for me” which is, of course, good, but it prevents me from delving in to my true mind.  I just want more freedom in life again, and all that negative shit that comes with it, I want it back.

All the important years of my life I’ve been depressed, and it’s what makes me who I am.  I want happiness, but I want to be the real me, more.  A man of self-reflection and deep-thinking.  Instead I barely pay attention to conversations because I have too much other shit I have to deal with, and I don’t even have shit to deal with, but my mind is just melted or something with all the shit I have. For now I tell my self to keep grinding, and eventually I’ll have everything and I can stop and return to who I was, but that’s a lot of time and who knows if by then I’ll ever be able to recover who I was?

[imnoexpertblog]

Masks on Masks on Masks

3/24/18

Goooooood morning, loves! Tomorrow is Friday and then the weekend is here. What a wonderful thought. What are you all doing for Memorial Day weekend?! Fun stuff? Baby (my man) and I get Nugget (his 4-year-old son) on Sunday so we will just be doing family things for the day. I do work third shift for the holiday so I will have to sleep Monday morning into the afternoon while Baby has off. That also means Nugget won’t be going to daycare so the boys will have the day to spend some quality time together without s’mom. They probably think girls have cooties anyway so I’m sure they won’t mind. Maybe if they are gone for a while I will wake up a little early for some me-time to do some pampering masks.

Mask 1) Face. Some of you may know I sold Mary Kay VERY briefly a year ago. The product that was all the rage when I was a consultant was the Clear Proof® Deep-Cleansing Charcoal Mask and trust me, it deserves the hype. This stuff is seriously unlike any other mask I have ever used or even seen on the market. Charcoal is known for its magnetic and purifying abilities so it makes perfect sense to use it for clearing your pores. This mask is set apart from the rest because it visibly pulls the oils and impurities from your skin. You can actually see it happen as the mask dries. Apply to clean skin (I apply with a clean, liquid foundation brush for even coverage), leave on for 10 to 20 minutes to allow it to dry. Rinse off with warm water. I use it when I notice my skin is more oily than usual or I want to pamper myself, but it can be used one to three times a week. It runs for $24 and mine has lasted me for almost a year. It’s basically paid for itself by now. If you use it every week, it won’t last you that long but it really does go a long way. Seeing all the junk come out of your skin is so satisfying! It makes me feel so fresh and so clean, clean. (If you didn’t get that reference, I’m not sure we can be friends).

Mask 2) Hair. I know I talked about coconut oil for your hair in my last beauty blog. It’s pretty quick and easy, but when I have more time on my hands and extra eggs in my fridge, I make a hair mask for myself. Eggs are known to be great for hair because of the protein and nutrients in them. I found a pin that explains why eggs are good for hair. “Protein nourishes the hair roots, which encourages growth. Fatty Acids give your hair a natural glossy shine. Potassium heals dry, damaged hair. Vitamin A prevents hair breakage. Vitamin D prevents hair loss and balding. Vitamin B12 promotes hair growth. Calcium promotes hair growth and is important for proper absorption of vitamin D.”  Depending on how long and thick your hair is, you will need 1 to 2 eggs, ¼ to 1 cup of milk, and 1 to 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil. Don’t forget a shower cap to cover your hair! Use the white if your hair is oily, use the yolk if your hair is dry. Just use the whole egg if your hair is neither. Whisk whatever part of the egg you need, and your milk and EVOO, add a squeeze of lemon if you have it. Work the mask into the scalp and massage into hair starting at the roots, going all the way to the tips. Cover your hair for 15 minutes with a shower cap. When you go to rinse and wash this egg mask out, don’t use hot water. You don’t want to cook the eggs into your hair. That sounds ridiculous but it’s real LOL. Use cool or cold water to rinse as much out as possible, then wash with shampoo and cold water until you are egg-free. They recommend doing this once a month. Your hair will love it, I swear!

Baby told me that he wants to start stretching before bed. He’s been lifting pretty hard at the gym and stretching will help his sore body for sure. Since he said that, I have been stretching before I sleep every morning after work. I do it to relax my body and my mind but there are many reasons to stretch; promoting good posture and circulation, relieve sore muscles, increase flexibility, relieve stress, avoid injury, etc. You don’t have to stretch before you sleep, necessarily. Stretching can take place in the morning, during lunch breaks, after work, before a workout, whenever! There are different stretches for different goals, and they are easy to find on the internet. I used this article for some ideas on pre-bedtime stretches. I’m not a yogi by any means (a person that is well-versed in yoga) but I would love to get into it. It’s been something I’ve been wanting to try for years now, I just haven’t quite gotten there yet. These stretches just might kick-start me into doing it, though! If you know any yoga poses or terms, I do Happy Baby Pose, Bridge Pose, Rag Doll Pose, and a side stretch of some sort. These were compiled into a list to help you fall asleep faster and I think I can agree that I do fall asleep easier and quicker after stretching. I’m glad I started doing this because I am having a harder time sleeping now that the temperatures are increasing and the fact that I’m sleeping during the hottest parts of the days. I’ve always been sensitive to heat, especially when I am sleeping. It keeps me awake and makes me really queasy. I know what you’re thinking, “Turn on the damn air.” I would, but the air conditioning unit is on the other side of the apartment, in the living room. None of that cool air even comes close to our bedroom. And not only that, but I have to keep the bedroom door shut to drown out most of the noise from our neighbors. So, turning on the air is such a waste unless we are utilizing the living room. These stretches seem to be helping me on warm days, though! Here’s a little collage of pictures from when Nugget wanted to do yoga with me back in January. Isn’t this the cutest?!

With the sudden heat, going Keto, and shark week around the corner, my body has been struggling lately! My hormones are crazy, too. Baby deserves an award for being so understanding and patient with me. I love him so much. I wouldn’t say I’m terrible by any means, but I have had my fair share of mood swings this week. Keto Flu and PMS is a crappy combo. I thank my lucky stars I have such a supportive counterpart in my life. It’s rather easy to take things personally when someone is in a bad mood, but all he does is calm my storms. I always tell him I appreciate him and that I’m grateful as heck to be with him, but I hope he knows how much I mean it. I don’t believe two people need to be exactly alike or completely opposite to work out, but I really love how he makes up for some of the things I lack. There’s a quote from a movie I just made him watch that says, “I make him lighter, and he makes me.. heavier, somehow. In a good way. Does that make sense?” Baby squeezed my hand and said, “That’s us!” He being the one to make me lighter, me making him heavier. That tugged on my heart because he was right. I love that about us. Nothing is going to be perfect all the time but I can say confidently that he is perfect for me. After being with such different people for as long as I was, I can see why they weren’t for me and why Baby IS for me. I will never take that man for granted because I’ve never been treated so well. Even when I’m cranky as all hell. I just have to remember in the heat of the moment, in the middle of the mood swing, I have the best stress reliever in the world. Him. We will end the week with some entertainment, so look for my next post in the next day or two! Talk to you guys soon!

[tarot-tatas]

Ink Stems (4/?) Nozoeli Florist & Tattoo Artist!AU

Read it on AO3 Chapter Four: My Beat

Sorry, lack of update because I have a life. 

My Beat - Oreskaband Chapter’s under the rug

The last thing Eli wanted to do on a Saturday was go down to Bibi, fix the temperature control cube and thaw out Maki. Nico was terrified at how silent Eli was the entire time the blonde reset the cube as per its instructions and opened the door to release Maki from her icy prison. “Guess who’s on cleaning duty next Tuesday,” Eli glared at Nico, who froze in horror. Eli didn’t do anything else in the shop. She fixed everything then stormed out in a huff, annoyed that she had to go to the shop on her day off. “Nico, for god’s sake,” Eli hissed through her teeth, fists clenched as she walked down the street back home. - Eli slammed the door behind her upon entering the apartment. “So is Maki-chan no longer a popsicle?” Nozomi asked from the bedroom. She had been lounging there for the entire day, drawing up designs as usual. “Nico’s going to become toast instead,” Eli snarled, taking off her jacket and storming into the bedroom. Nozomi chuckled and turned down the volume from her docking station. “Maki-chan will have to take care of her.” “Those two!” Eli stuffed her jacket onto a coat hanger and shoved it into the wardrobe. “It’s as if they don’t use their common sense!” “Guess it had to happen sometime,” Nozomi mused, tapping her pencil against her lips. “They’re like some kind of comic relief! It shits me! They are my employees for my business, not an entertainment troupe!” Eli continued to go on and on about how unprofessional Nico and Maki were at times while she paced around the room. “How can they even be engaged to be married when neither of them can function properly for five minutes?!” Nozomi closed her sketchbook, knowing it was time to stop the Russian whirlwind from destroying the apartment block in her anger. “Maki-chan and Niccochi are an odd couple,” she started, peering at Eli slowing down. “You forget they’re a couple because of how they act,” Eli spat and turned on her heel. Nozomi chose this moment to swing her legs over the bed and stand up. She walked towards Eli, her socks silent against the carpet. “They may not be ideal, but none of our friends are,” Nozomi’s voice was soft as she stood in front of Eli, looking up at the steaming blonde. “Kotori-chan and Umi-chan are an odd couple, just like Rin-chan and Hanayo-chan, and Niccochi and Maki-chan. Honoka-chan has always had odd partners, but everyone loves each other for who they are,” Nozomi leaned in to kiss Eli’s nose. “Just like how I love Elichi for who she is.” Eli immediately went wide-eyed as a dumb grin curled onto her lips. Nozomi always had a magic charm to calm her down. Warmth spread through her body as Nozomi cupped her left cheek. “My Elichi is an oddball too, but that’s who she is,” Nozomi chuckled, enjoying the blush that burned across Eli’s cheeks. “N-Nozomi,” Eli pouted and folded her arms, but did not resist the tattooed thumb that was stroking her cheek ever so carefully. “Our friends are always odd, and that’s why they’re special, just like how you are special,” Nozomi gently leaned in to kiss Eli gently on the lips, and enjoyed the hum that came from the taller woman’s throat. “Well…” Eli mumbled against Nozomi’s lips quietly, barely audible even as she slowly shut her eyes. “You’re probably the oddest one out of all of us.” Nozomi grinned against Eli, and gently tapped her cheek. “That’s me.”

“So, the three of ya want matchin’ ink.” “That’s right! We’re gonnya commemorate living together before Maki-chan moves out and gets hitched!” “Shut it, Rin.” Nozomi chuckled from behind the counter at the three young women across from her. Rin, with a snapback and baseball jacket, had one arm of Hanayo’s shoulder and the other over Maki’s. Both looked rather nervous, with Hanayo fidgeting with her hands and Maki with her arms folded. “I’m not leaving anytime soon, you dummy,” Maki rolled her eyes and shrugged away with her nose up. “Especially since you got thawed out yesterday,” Rin smirked, “Nyabody wants to sleep with a popsicle, so Nico-chan has to wait.”

Nozomi continued to chuckle, and tapped the reference images with her fingernails. “Okay, this should be easy. Did you want me to do all of you?” “Just Kayo-chin and Me,” Rin jabbed a finger to her own chest. “I’m gonnya tattoo Maki-chan!” Maki and Nozomi exchanged a look. “Ya lettin’ ‘er?” “Just this once,” Maki went stiff. “And it’s going to be tiny...on my ankle…” “Maki-chan,” Hanayo fiddled with the pen Nozomi had handed and read through the form on the counter. She did so with the utmost care and precision so as to not have a repeat of what had happened last time. “It’s a tomato emoji.” “I-I know!” Maki snapped. “And you’re getting the riceball emoji!”

“And Rin’s getting the ramen emoji!” Rin slung an arm over Maki’s shoulder without a care in the world. The redhead rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the small grin that played at the corner of her lips.

“So, why are y’all gettin’ food emojis?” Nozomi asked Hanayo as she lay on the cosmetic bed with her eyes shut and glasses off. “Well, the three of us have been very close friends since high school,” Hanayo explained, breathing deeply as the tiny tattoo needle went through her hip. “And we each like different food which is set to our names in our phones,” The younger girl giggled at how silly it was, but Nozomi smiled and wiped away the excess ink. “I don’t think it’s silly,” Nozomi chuckled. “Didya know Umi-chan has the kanji for manju on her ankle in a pink circle?” When Hanayo nodded, Nozomi removed the needle and cleaned it. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with gettin’ whatchya loved tattooed on ya. I know someone who has a mighty fine tattoo of their favourite Pokémon, and they ain’t ashamed in the slightest.” Across the studio, Rin laughed loudly, making Maki cover her ears. “Nyahah! Yeah I know that girl!” “Do you have to be so loud?” Maki winced while sitting on another cosmetic bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. “Hey, I’m the artist here,” Rin mocking stuck her nose up. “I need all of the creative freedom I can get.” “You’re a pain in the ass flatmate,” Maki deadpanned, and winced when the needle in Rin’s grip went back into her skin. “Now Nyaw, Maki-chan, who’s the one with the pointy thingy?” Nozomi and Hanayo chuckled as the banter continued between the two. “By the way, Nozomi-chan,” Hanayo spoke once all the giggles were out of her system. “Honoka-chan and I were thinking about having you over to the daycare one day to do an art class for the children. I-I’ve been doing some, but I could be nice for them to see other styles of art…” Nozomi stopped tattooing and looked at the younger woman. “I-It’s silly I know! I’m sorry, forget I asked,” “Hanayo-chan, that sounds amazin’!” Nozomi smiled at Hanayo, moving the machine away and setting it down to change her gloves. “I’d love to come in and work with the lil ones, but I could only come in on Friday, since it’s my day off.” “That can be arranged, we have our drawing sessions on friday anyway,” Hanayo smiled and adjusted her glasses while Nozomi changed the needle in her tattoo machine. Dipping the grouped needles into the capsule of white ink, Nozomi could not stop grinning. It would be fantastic for her and the modified community, and change the stigma that tattooed and pierced people were not suitable for children. Nozomi smiled to herself, colouring in the white of Hanayo’s riceball and thinking about all the children she could inspire with her art.

“So the white roses would go here, then I’d put in the hydrangeas around the outside. Or, I could just mix the two together so you would get different pops of white and blue,” Eli scribbled and sketched on a piece of wrapping paper to show the two women standing before her the different ideas she had. Honoka was completely mesmerised by how fast Eli could work, being completely respectful of the wedding’s white and blue theme. However, Kotori was tapping a finger to her cheek. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Eli stopped sketching and smiled gently upon seeing the wheels turning in Kotori’s head. “Hmm…” Kotori pursed her lips and brought another finger to her cheek. “While I do love all of the ideas, I’m still a little concerned...It’s lacking ‘pa-zaz,’” “‘Pa-zaz?’” Eli blinked in confusion and looked at an equally puzzled Honoka. Kotori nodded, “Yeah, there needs to be more ‘pa-zaz’ or ‘dazzle,’ something that people won’t forget.” “That’s understandable, but I’m gonna need a bit more direction,” Eli answered honestly. Kotori was not just a customer, she was Eli’s friend, and Eli held the job of being the chosen florist for her friend’s wedding in the highest regard. “Well…” Kotori drawled and dazed off at a wreath of flowers hanging on the wall behind Eli. “Like that!” Eli followed Kotori’s pointed finger and turned to look. “That old thing?” A blonde eyebrow quirked up. It was a very old wreath that Eli had attempted to arrange with the inspiration of Ikebana. “It would be beautiful to have something like that in our colour schemel,” Kotori grinned and tapped her nails together. Honoka, however, was eyeing Eli’s furrowed brows. “Kotori-chan,” Honoka was teetering around the blunt answer. “I can’t do traditional Ikebana,” Eli finished with a sigh and averted her gaze from Kotori to the ground. She took note of a ribbon that had fallen in front of the back room door. “No one has taught me how to do it…” Of course, no one wanted to take on the ‘foreigner’ to teach Ikebana to her properly, and that was something that always bothered Eli. Kotori’s face fell, but then she shook her head quickly. “So?” Eli looked up, confused. Honoka mirrored the blonde’s expression. “So what if it’s not an exactly traditional Ikebana? It will be Eli-chan’s interpretation! And that’s what I love about it,” Kotori pointed at the wreath again and traced out the features. “You have such a contemporary setting, but there are traditional elements within the placing and your colour choices. That would be beautiful around the lighthouse setting of Sagami Bay!” “Oooh yeah! I see that!” Honoka squinted at the wreath as Eli rubbed her arm. “I...I don’t know...I did that a long time ago with only a video as a reference…” “So imagine what you can do now! You’re the best florist around, Eli-chan, and people love your flowers because you create art out of them with so many different influences!” Kotori gushed, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Eli hunched she shoulders, she was never good at receiving compliments. “Plus,” Kotori lowered her voice gently. “It would mean so much to Umi-chan and me, that Eli-chan’s custom designs were for our wedding only, that’s the ‘pa-zaz’ I’m looking for.”

The engaged woman’s smile was infectious, and Eli felt her stomach churn away the gloom and fill with warmth. She was right, it was Eli’s custom flowers that she wanted, and it would blend perfectly with the idea of mixing the traditional with the modern world. “Okay,” Eli nodded and pulled out a fresh piece of paper. “I’ll see what I can do.”

[vielramona]

Colors |10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

(c) surveyhaven

april 17-may 2 2017

Purple: 10 facts about my room

1. There's a lot of boxes beside my closet and under my bed. 2. I will decorate it this summer. 3. The wall is green. 4. It's messy everyday. 5. It's where I live. I don't usually go out. 6. I love my curtain and the red ribbon. 7. I have the teddy bear and prom picture from my ex. 8. The skincare products are beneath it. 9. My closet is never tidy and I always have a hard time to choose my outfit. 10. I have unfinished businesses that was left unopened.

Blue: 9 facts about my family

1. I have a younger sister Cristina. 2. I've never seen my grandpa from Mom's side because he's dead before I was even born. 3. My Mom is from Luzon and my Dad is from Visayas. 4. I have a lot of aunts and uncles that I'm familiar with but I don't know their name. 5. As of now, I already got 3 nephews, 2 nieces and 1 has still no gender. 6. My grandmother's right eye is blind. 7. I have one aunt that is a lesbian. 8. My mother had a miscarriage- it was believed to be our brother before my younger sister. 9. Our family is very extended and in their town, almost everyone are our kin.

Green: 8 facts about my body

1. I'm slim and thin. 2. I'd like to get a tattoo-under my left boob. 3. Or a henna at the collarbone or on my back 4. I have long wavy, frizzy, and thick hair. 5. I'm experiencing an itch on my hands and feet right now and it sucks. Very frustrating and aching! 6. I have a long thick stitch on my tummy. I was operated. 7. I became tan 8. I'm 5'3

Yellow: 7 facts about my childhood

1. I'm the valedictorian when I was in daycare 2. I have a short hair so I was always mistook for a boy or tomboy 3. I'm a thin and lanky kid - I always have bruises everytime I go home because I always trip. 4. I had a skin asthma 5. I skipped kinder 1 and moved on to kinder 2 6. I always ask for 1 peso to buy junk food and candies every single day 7. I had a best friend named Hazel

Orange: 6 facts about my home town

1. We have 4 goats there 2. And chickens with multiple colors 3. It's very dusty since the ground isn't cemented 4. Everyone are somewhat blood related - everyone is family 5. They speak Kapampangan 6. We have a mini store there

Red: 5 facts about my best friend

1. She's an ARMY and EXO-L 2. She's referred to as Goblin 3. She's the most talkative person in the classroom 4. She claims to be boyish but she's the most girly girl ever 5. She has a boyfriend that I haven't met yet

Pink: 4 facts about my parents

1. My mom and dad are business partners 2. They have a hot n cold relationship 3. Their gap is 2 years 4. They don't look their age; they look young

White: 3 facts about my personality

1. I'm scared to commit, but I'm terribly afraid of being alone for the rest of my life. 2. I'm a thrill seeker, I love testing my limits 3. I'm a free soul, I love freedom.

Grey: 2 facts about my favorite things

1. Wattpad is life 2. I love reading and writing

Black: 1 fact about the person I like

1. He's the funniest

[ecotone99]

[RF] Santino's Interview

Brisk October air ruffled the leaves on the trees and flowed between the towering buildings as Santino strutted down Market Street in the heart of San Francisco’s financial district. Men and women in suits littered the busy sidewalks as they paced hurriedly to work, but none looked quite as good as Santino did that cool morning. Sporting a fresh shave and haircut, a pressed navy blue suit with an equally blue tie and his polished Italian leather shoes, Santino looked and felt like the finest young professional the city had ever seen.

If there was every day on which Santino needed this confidence, it was today. In just one hour, he would head to the 31st floor of the tallest building on Market to interview for the sports agency firm he had longed to work for since his days as an undergrad slaving away at his legal studies coursework. Night after night he had worked tirelessly to assure his papers were perfect, leaving no t uncrossed or i undotted. When he wasn’t focusing on his coursework, he spent hours in the depths of the university library studying for the LSAT, a test he needed to ace in order to earn admission to a Top-14 law school. The remainder of his time was spent interning at a local court nearly an hour away from his off-campus apartment. Though the commute and workload exhausted him, he knew the experience he was gaining would give him a great leg up on the other applicants. Sure enough, he was right.

Through his hard work and dedication, Santino nailed the LSAT, maintained a perfect 4.0 GPA and earned himself an admission to the law school of his dreams.

Throughout his time in law school, he worked as hard as he ever had, excelling in his classes and spending hours on end interning for one of the most esteemed sports agents in the area. After graduating summa cum laude, he scored nearly perfect on the California Bar Exam and returned to the golden state where the air was warmer and the girls were prettier. After weeks and weeks of perfecting his resume and cover letter and gathering recommendation letters from his professors and employers, Santino submitted what had to have been the most robust application the firm had ever received. Then, he waited.

And he waited.

And he waited.

As morning turned to day and day turned to night, Santino incessantly watched his phone for any email or phone call from the firm. He even went as far as sleeping with his phone ringer on full blast at night, just in case they called him at one in the morning to schedule an interview.

With each passing day, Santino grew restless. It crossed his mind to submit other applications in the meantime, but he decided against it because he saw it as settling. Santino was the best candidate out there, and he would aspire for nothing but the best.

So he waited.

In order to preserve his sanity and keep his mind off the application, he had to find ways to occupy his time. Every morning at precisely 5:30a.m. he would wake up and prepare a breakfast consisting of two eggs over easy, one scrambled, three egg whites, two pieces of sourdough toast garnished with gluten-free margarine, a short stack of chocolate chip pancakes, a bowl of strawberry yogurt mixed with granola, two chicken-apple sausages and a bowl of Frosted Flakes, washed down with a cup-and-a-half of black coffee, two glasses of filtered water from his parents’ state-of-the-art Kitchenaid refrigerator and a smoothie consisting of a banana, two spoonfuls of Skippy super chunk peanut butter, twenty grams of vanilla protein powder, a cup of blueberries, exactly three strawberries and a light drizzle of organic honey. Once he finished his feast, he washed his dishes and headed straight out the front door and over to his local 24-Hour Fitness where he engaged in a rigorous workout regimen consisting of stretching, running on the treadmill, weightlifting, swimming and more stretching. When his workout was completed, he went back home to prepare his parents’ breakfast, which was the least he could do considering they were letting him live in their home rent-free. After his parents were fed and their dishes were cleaned, Santino would sit under the shady tree at the park down the street where he read classic literature, sipped on an iced green tea and let the summer breeze caress his skin. When he finished his reading, he headed back home, studied NFL and MLB statistics and practiced negotiating contracts based on those stats.

Santino usually finished these activities by one in the afternoon, at which point he would settle on the couch for a midday siesta.

The rest of Santino’s day was typically spent playing solitaire, making hip-hop beats for his friend José, reading the Bible, Quran, Talmud and The Book of Mormon, dominating online strangers in virtual chess, brushing up on his Southern Italian cooking skills and studying more sports statistics.

For a while, this laundry list of activities kept Santino preoccupied and did a fairly decent job of keeping his mind off his job application.

Until it didn’t.

After about the second day of this routine, Santino once again grew restless and was engulfed by anxiety.

Why haven’t they responded? he asked himself.

Did I sound too eager in my cover letter? Too cocky?

Do they not like Italians?

After days and days of insufferable torment, Santino had had enough. It was time to call the firm’s human resources department and ask if they had received his application. He had been reluctant to do so because he didn’t want to appear desperate. But at this point, he was desperate and had nothing to lose.

After finding the firm’s HR phone number, Santino poured himself a glass of room-temperature water to clear his throat and hit the “call” button. As the phone rang, he took a deep gulp of his water and repeated through his head, Sound confident; not cocky. Confident, not cocky.

“The Chang Corporation, this is Clarice. How may I help you?” asked an energetic voice on the other end of the line.

Caught off guard, Santino choked uncontrollably on his water and spit it all over himself.

“Uhh, hi!” he squeaked embarrassingly. “I mean, um, hello,” he stated in a forced tone much lower than that of his regular speaking voice. “My name is Santino Rigoli and I’m calling to inquire about the status of an application I submitted several weeks ago.”

“Okay, Mr. Rigoli,” Clarice responded. “Give me one second and I’ll pull up your application.”

Silence flooded the phone line and Santino nervously paced his kitchen floor, with each passing second looming like an eternity. What if the application hadn’t been received? Or worse, what if it had been received and they had simply discarded it?

“Well, Mr. Rigoli,” Clarice said after some time, “It seems we did receive your application and its status is listed as ‘Under Review.’ I’ll tell you what, though. I’m going to go ahead to transfer you over to DeSean Holman, who is one of our hiring managers, and he can give you further details on what to expect with your application from here on out.”

“Oh, wow!” Santino declared a little too excitedly. “Thank you so mu-

The line clicked and Santino was now listening to Country Roads, Take me Home, by John Denver. After fighting the urge to shout “West Virginia” about eight times, the music stopped and a strong voice took over the line.

“DeSean Holman, may I ask who’s calling?”

“Hello, Mr. Holman, my name is Santino Rigoli and I’m calling in regard to an application I submitted to your firm several weeks ago. I was just told by your receptionist that it was under review, bu-

“Well if you know it’s under review, then what more can I do for you at this time?” Mr. Holman asked impatiently.

“Um, I just wanted to se-

“You just wanted to see what was taking so long, is that right?” Holman asserted. “We have processes here, son, and you need to respect that. Business doesn’t get done at the snap of your fingers. It takes time, and you need to respect that and let us do our job as we see fit.”

Santino was shooketh, rattled like a snake. Before he could muster up the confidence to apologize for being too forward, Mr. Holman began speaking once more.

“But you know what, kid. I will say this: you got ambition. Too many kids your age, man, they’re complacent. They’re not hungry. They would have waited for months on end before we got back to ‘em. And if we didn’t? Oh well. And that’s the problem with you millenials; you expect stuff to come to you. But not you, Sanchito.”

“Santino,” he corrected him.

“That’s what I said, Dorito. But look, you’re not like those other kids. You’re hungry. You wanted something and you went for it, and that’s the type of ambition we’re looking for at this firm. And shoot, I have your resume right here in front of me, and I can tell you’ve got that ambition.”

In just a matter of seconds, Santino had gone from nearly throwing up to smiling like a priest in a boys’ daycare facility.

“I’ll tell you what, Sergio. We’re gonna bring you in for an interview. Tomorrow morning, 9 a.m. sharp. I want you in a full suit, tie and all. You come prepared with your resume, references and any other materials you find necessary. Check in with Clarice on the 31st floor and she’ll take you to Mr. Chang’s office where he’ll conduct your first round of interviews. Got it?”

Nearly in disbelief, Santino had to bring himself off Cloud Nine and confirm he understood the details of the interview. After thanking and saying goodbye to Mr. Holman, he hung up the phone and hurried to his room where he spent the next several hours preparing for his interview.

​

The next morning, Santino shot out of bed at promptly 5:37 a.m., downed two tall glasses of water, performed 50 consecutive push-ups and hopped in the shower. Once he was clean, he ate a banana, ironed his suit, shined his shoes, sytled his hair, brushed each individual tooth as if he were polishing Michelangelo’s “David” sculpture, gathered his interview materials and headed out the door.

He arrived at the West Dublin/Pleasanton BART station at 7:01 a.m. and boarded his train almost instantaneously. Scheduled to arrive in San Francisco’s financial district at 7:58, he was afforded nearly an hour to rehearse his prepared responses to any questions his interviewers might throw at him. Right on schedule, the train stopped and Santino deboarded and rode up the escalator to Market Street. Despite the plethora of spectacles and distractions Market had to offer, Santino was not fazed. He was in the zone, locked and loaded, ready to go.

Conveniently, the Chang Corporation’s office was located right next to the BART station and would take less than a minute for Santino to reach by foot. The problem, however, was that he was 57 minutes early. He didn’t want to check in with Clarice too early out of fear of seeming too eager, giving the impression that he was desperate. Of course, he was desperate, but that didn’t matter. What mattered is that he didn’t seem desperate.

As Santino thought of ways to kill some time, he remembered there was a Peet’s Coffee just around the corner of Market and 3rd Street. Suddenly he realized that in the midst of all his excitement that morning, he hadn’t even remembered to brew his morning cup of joe. Not that he needed the boost of energy, for his enthusiasm had him feeling plenty energized. Still, a little jolt of java couldn’t hurt, right? After all, he certainly looked the best he ever had, and he was willing to do whatever he could to feel his best too. So with his chest puffed out and his chin held high, Santino strutted down the sidewalk with a sexy swag and rounded the corner onto 3rd Street.

Immediately after rounding the corner, Santino collided into a careless woman who spilled a piping hot cup of coffee onto his white shirt and all over his face and hair. To make matters worse, she was holding a breakfast burrito that exploded all over Santino and drenched his clothes in bacon grease, avocado and copious amounts of Tapatio. With his mouth gaping in shock, Santino was overcome with horror and wore an expression that looked as if he had seen Harvey Weinstein.

“I… uh… you…” he stammered, desperately searching for words he could not find.

“What in the hell is the matter with you?” the woman yelled as if it wasn’t her inattentiveness that had caused the collision. “Flying around the corner like that, not watching where you’re going! This is unbelievable; I have to be at work soon!”

Still, Santino couldn’t find his words. Perhaps there were no words to express his despair.

“This is unbelievable,” the woman spat as she swiped away egg particles out of her long, black hair. “Unbelievable. How am I going to show up to the office like this?”

She continued her angry tirade as she stormed off into the sea of people and out of eyesight. Stunned, soaked and covered in filth, Santino stood hopelessly on the sidewalk as he watched her disappear.

This was how it ended. He couldn’t walk into his interview with coffee stains on his shirt and face with hot sauce and avocado smeared on his jacket all the way down to his shoes. He looked terrible, and he felt even worse. It wasn’t even 8:30 and all the clothing stores were still closed, so that threw out the possibility of him swapping out his wardrobe. This was the look Santino was stuck with, covered in grime from head to toe. Moreover, there was no way he could muster the confidence to conduct an interview now, at least not a decent one.

As he crouched into a seat on the cafe’s patio, Santino thought about all the steps he had taken to reach this point. All those hours spent in the university library studying for exams and mock trials. The sleepless nights spent reading and memorizing penal codes. The times he sold his belongings when he was short on rent. All the time and money spent on his commutes to his internships that paid little to no wages. So many sacrifices made, all for nothing.

“No,” Santino said softly. “This isn’t how I go down.”

Santino Rigoli was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a quitter. He thought back to those trying nights when his will was tested and his limits were pushed. Although giving up had crossed his mind several times, he had never seriously considered it. It wasn’t who he was. Santino was a go-getter. An ambitious and talented individual who always worked hard to achieve success. He hadn’t sacrificed years of his life and taken on tens of thousands of dollars of debt to be stopped by a little coffee stain and some egg yolk. He ate those problems for breakfast. No, Santino Rigoli was a competitor, and he was going to overcome this challenge just like he had overcome all the others. He had a story to tell, and it was time to start writing it.

Quickly, Santino got up out of his seat and hurried into the cafe to freshen up. He grabbed a handful of napkins out of the dispenser, dampened them under the bathroom sink faucet and began wiping away whatever food residue he could. The scalding coffee had left his face quite red and would perhaps later resemble a serious burn, but all he could do now was splash cold water on it and hope for the best. His hair was dampened and the gel he molded it with had nearly entirely lost its hold. Thankfully his Italian ancestors had granted him dark, sleek hair that looked stylish even when messy, so that was the look he was going to roll with.

When he finished freshening up, he still looked sloppy but at least he knew he had done the best he could. It was now 8:41 and he had to leave the cafe if he wanted to check in with Clarice exactly 15 minutes before his interview.

As he marched down Market, the autumn air cooled his singed face and the foliage on the trees glowed red and orange overhead. When he reached the building, he managed to secure an elevator all to himself, rode it straight to the 31st floor and approached Clarice at her desk.

“Hi, Clarice?” he began. “My name is Santino Rigoli, you and I spoke on the phone yesterday. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Chang.”

Clarice looked up from her appointment book and brushed her bushy hair back with her hands. “Mr. Rigoli, you’re here early,” she said with a tone of satisfaction. “Thankfully, Mr. Chang is…” She stopped her sentence once she noticed Santino’s appearance. Though she saw how dirty he looked, she decided against saying anything as not to hurt his confidence. Thankfully, she was quick enough that Santino didn’t notice. “Mr. Chang is ready to see you right now, so you won’t have to wait. Please follow me.”

With that, she arose from her seat and led Santino through the Chang Corporation’s office, which was a breathtaking space characterized by cool, earth tones and high ceilings.

“Will Mr. Holman be conducting my interview as well this morning?” Santino asked in a strong, professional tone.

“DeSean is actually out meeting with a client today,” Clarice responded. “He’s working on a big contract right now and felt his time would be best spent focusing on that. But let me tell you, DeSean was very impressed with the initiative you showed yesterday, and he made sure to let Mr. Chang know that.” Trying not to reveal too much excitement, Santino let out a half smile and expressed his satisfaction with a simple nod.

The two continued walking to Mr. Chang’s office in silence, and Santino couldn’t help but stare in awe of the facility as they passed through it. All along the walls were life-sized images of athletes represented by the firm. Record-setting contracts were framed on full display in the most visible places. To Santino’s left he saw a trophy case containing an NFL MVP award, two MLB Cy Young awards and an NBA Rookie of the Year award. To his right, he saw offices, state-of-the-art coffee machines, ping-pong tables, massage chairs, a weight room and a cafeteria that served gourmet cuisine ranging from smoked salmon to grilled bison. Straight ahead stood a gorgeous waterfall that fell from the ceiling down into a shimmering sapphire pool in which koi fish swam.

This is it, Santino thought. This is where I belong. I am going to work for the Chang Corporation.

Inspired, he envisioned himself working in one of the building’s offices, eating at fine restaurants with professional athletes and charging their meals to the company credit card, attending important sporting events and setting record-breaking contracts of his own.

It all starts with this interview, Santino told himself. This is going to be the best interview of your life.

“Okay, Mr. Rigoli, here we are,” Clarice said encouragingly when they approached a large pair of mahogany doors. “Mr. Chang,” she said as she knocked lightly on the door. “Santino Rigoli is here for his interview.”

“Ah yes!” sang an older gentleman’s voice from the other side of the door. “Please, Clarice, send him on in.”

“Well, Mr. Rigoli, best of luck to you,” Clarice smiled before she turned around and headed back to her desk.

Confident, not cocky, Santino reminded himself.

As he pushed the door open and stepped onto pristine cream-colored carpeting, he discovered Mr. Chang’s office was just as grandiose as the rest of the building. The ceilings arched high overhead and the walls were lined with wooden shelves holding dozens of knick-knacks ranging from collector’s edition baseball cards to decades-old bottles of wine. Mr. Chang’s fine mahogany desk sat approximately 20 feet from the room’s entrance. Cool and collected, Santino closed the door behind him and strided toward his interviewer.

“Mr. Rigoli,” Mr. Chang stood up, revealing his tall stature. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.” Although Chang was an older gentleman with gray-turning-white hair and a fair share of wrinkles on his face, he possessed a surprisingly strong frame and boasted the energy of a very young man.

“Please, Mr. Chang. Mr. Rigoli is my father. Call me Santino,” he responded charmingly.

“Well then, Santino,” Chang chuckled. “Go on ahead and have a se…”

Just as Santino was about to place the folder containing his resume on the desk and have a seat, Mr. Chang stopped his sentence and fixed his gaze on Santino’s shirt. He then moved his eyes from his shirt and scanned Santino’s entire torso and what he could see of his pants.

It’s okay, Santino thought. You knew this was gonna happen. Just play it cool and win him over with your confidence.

“I see you’re rather fixated on my attire, Mr. Chang,” he began. “I do hope you won’t call the fashion poli-”

“What in the hell are you wearing, son?” Chang asked in a tone full of disappointment. Santino’s stomach sank slightly.

“You see sir, I was ju-”

“You see? Yeah, kid, I do see. I see that you look like a wreck. What in the hell is the matter with you? Did you get into a food fight before you came over here?” Now rattled to his core, Santino knew he had to act fast.

“I, uh, I kn-know you see, sir. Th-the thing is, I-I-”

“I-I-I-I,” Chang mocked him. “I rolled around in the garbage before I came up here? I used coffee as cologne this morning and combed my hair with hot sauce? What in the hell is the matter with you?” Santino gulped. He was mortified beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Mi-Mister Chang, listen. I-”

“Listen? You’re telling me to listen? No, you listen to me, buddy. You come in here dressed like a slob, you can’t explain yourself and stammer like an idiot, and then you start barking orders at me in my own office? Do you know where you are, or who I am? This is the top sports agency in the world, and I am its founder and CEO. And you have the nerve to come into my office and tell me what do? No. No, I don’t think so.” Seeing his hopes and dreams burst into flames before his very eyes, Santino shook and stood silently, waiting for Chang’s wrath to come to an end.

“You know,” he continued. “This is the problem with you kids nowadays. You don’t have standards. You think that can just cruise to success without facing any trials or tribulations, that you can just enjoy the benefits of hard work without actually putting in the work.”

Santino felt as if his throat was closing. Rage and despair rose within him. Nothing Mr. Chang said had even remotely applied to him. Santino did put in the work, and he wanted to continue to work hard. If Mr. Chang would only hear him out.

“Sir, if you would please just let me spe-”

“No!” Chang barked furiously. “Don’t you dare interrupt me. You had your turn to speak, and you stuttered and insulted me. Now, I speak and you listen. I’ve seen kids like you before. You come in here acting like a hot shot with your fancy degree from this big-name school and act like that will serve as your free pass to do whatever you want to do. Well, guess what, pal? That’s not how it works here. You show up covered in filth, talking like you own the place and expected to get offered a job on the spot. Well it’s not gonna happen. I want you to get outta my office and escort yourself out of my facility, right now.” Chang looked on his desk and saw Santino’s folder. “And what’s this, your resume? Take it with you. I wouldn’t even be able to read it anyway because it’s probably soaked in coffee just like the rest of you. Get out.”

Santino sheepishly took the folder out of Chang’s hand, turned around and escorted himself out of the room without saying another word. On the way out, he thanked Clarice for showing him around and waited in silence for the elevator. Once outside, he walked down the steps leading to the BART station, boarded his train and headed back home.

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[theliterateape]

Hope Idiotic | Part III

By David Himmel

Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.

A MONTH LATER AT WORK, JUST BEFORE LUNCH, CHUCK BURST FROM HIS OFFICE into the area where Lou and I sat. He ran his hands through his short hair, clawing his scalp.

“Fucking Jesus!” he said.

Lou and I swiveled our chairs toward him and leaned back ready for the meltdown.

“Department meeting!” Chuck said. “Now! Cuba Café! Neal, you drive!”

“I can’t. I have to get gas.”

“Good. Get it on the way back.”

In the car, Chuck kept ripping at his head and cursing under his breath.

“You want to tell us what’s going on?” Lou asked.

“I need a beer first.”

Our department was going to be dissolved. “A restructuring,” is what the Palm Gaming executives called it. Although the three of us loathed the corporate humping we had to do to earn a buck, we had a pretty sweet seat up. While our department was independent and served much like a communication agency to the four Strip properties, the restructuring would require each property to manage its own internal communications. We were being split up. Worst of all, our positions would fall under the umbrella of the Human Resources Department.

Beyond the occasional legitimate sexual harassment problems or veiled threats of retaliatory violence from a disgruntled former employee, HR served little necessary purpose. It existed mostly as an employee party planner. Companywide emails from HR regularly looked like they were written in crayon. Lots of big, colorful fonts and clipart and seasonal-appropriate .gifs of Cupid, leprechauns, jack-o-lanterns and Santa Claus. I once brought in a flyer I received from Stephen’s daycare about an upcoming event. The flyer for young parents with babies looked just like an email HR sent to 70,000 adults employed at a casino regarding changes to the Employee Dining Room’s soda fountain. (There would be two Diet Coke dispensers — part of a new health initiative.)

A lot of the information we dispersed was at the behest of HR, but knowing that we weren’t technically HR employees was important to us. The days of freelancing on the Palm dime, joking around and extended drinking lunches were numbered.

“Melvin Wilson is going to be my direct supervisor,” Chuck said. Melvin Wilson was the company’s diversity golden boy: A mid-forties black man with an ex-wife and five children under the age of seven. He was a reformed juvenile delinquent, having served a stint at age 15 for selling crack to an undercover cop. After prison, he found Jesus, and from there, a job in human resources. If HR had a cheerleading team for the company, Melvin would be its captain. “And they’re making me the senior manager of communications at Tigris. So I’ll have a more hands-on boss to micromanage me while I’m managing a smaller department. The upgraded title is bullshit.”

“It comes with more pay, right?” I asked.

“Fifteen hundred a year,” said Chuck. Lou and I laughed.

“So what does this mean for us?”

“Nothing is official yet, but you’ll probably stay with me at Tigris. I’m worried about you, Lou.”

“Are they going to fire me?” Lou asked.

 “No. You’ll be sent to one of the other properties. And the whispers are that Lancelot’s Kingdom is gunning for you.”

Lancelot’s was Palm’s unloved, ugly stepchild of a property. Built to look like a medieval castle and themed as such throughout, it had become a glorified motel with rooms-by-the-hour since falling into disarray when Vegas outgrew its family-friendly identity. It was where hospitality careers went to die and where visitors checked in with hopes of hitting the jackpot but checked out emotionally empty and financially broke, having realized how hard exploitive capitalist dreams can crash.

“When does all of this take effect?” Lou warily asked.

“Probably by the middle of June.”

“Well then, I wouldn’t worry too much about me.”

“Why?”

Lou took a big bite out of his Cuban sandwich, which had just been delivered to the table. “I’m moving to Chicago at the beginning of June.”

“What the fuck for?” I asked.

“To make something of myself. Become a real writer in a real city,” he said with his mouth full.

“Are you saying I’m not a real writer because I live in Las Vegas?”

“No! Of course not. I was trying to be funny.”

“Because you’d be right.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a real writer. You just published your second book.”

“I write corporate masturbatory dreck and hump editors’ legs for twenty-five cents a word. My book is being outsold 500-to-1 by The Twinkie Cookbook. I’m not a real writer. I’m a hack with a dusty PhD who changes his son’s shitty diapers in his spare time. The only time I see my wife’s tits is when she’s feeding my son. Chuck, you can’t let him do this. He can’t leave us here.”

Chuck was a clawing at his scalp even harder. A few more ounces of pressure and he would have separated it from his skull. But there was nothing he could have done.

Lou’s mind was made up. He was in love and he was going to leave us behind for the big city and the girl. His commitment to the grand gesture surprised even him.

My book is being outsold 500-to-1 by The Twinkie Cookbook. I’m not a real writer.

He had sworn off the idea of love after his last serious relationship four years before. It’s not that he didn’t believe love existed, but that love was a hassle. Back then, he’d just bought his house and had settled in nicely to the bachelor life. Without a girlfriend, he was free of relationship trappings like constant accountability and awareness of someone else’s moods and feelings. Without a girlfriend, he was able to come and go as he pleased, do what he wanted, when he wanted, with whom he wanted. He liked being on his own — alone but never lonely. Girls came and went without much emotional effort from either party, which Lou found idyllic. He never felt anxious or hurt as a result of another person. When he was younger, he wanted to have a wife and kids, but after experiencing the spoils of bachelorhood, he had decided that he would have been perfectly happy never being married or having a family of his own, but rather always be free and available for the excitement of first kisses and the wonderful strangeness of sleeping with strangers. He figured that his friends would have kids, and he could be their cool Uncle Louie.

But then Michelle happened. In only a few months, her affection for him, and his for her, made him feel that real, workable love could exist. They had already been friends for eight years. That meant she knew who he was. She knew his idiosyncrasies, and she didn’t seem to mind them one bit. She may have even loved him more because of them.

And now, as for the move, Michelle was the perfect catalyst. Lou’s return to Chicago had been in his plans since first arriving in Las Vegas ten years earlier. Since he had a job straight out of college, he decided that as soon as his career had outgrown Vegas, he’d make his way home again. The decade was staring him in the face, his career was in the best shape it had ever been in, and Michelle would be at his side. He had what he referred to as trajectory.

“What about your house?” Chuck asked.

“Glad you brought that up. I’d like to sell it and use the money to buy a place in Chicago. Until it sells, how about you live in it and pay me rent? You’re moving out of your place now anyway, so what the hell? You won’t find a better place for the money.”

“And when it sells?”

“I’ll give you thirty days to get out.”

“I’ll talk to Lexi about it.”

“Lexi?” I asked.

“Yeah, we’re moving in together. Moving into your place, Lou, while we look for our own doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“Everything discussed at this lunch sounds like a bad idea,” I said.

We ordered another round of beers before driving back to the office in silence.

✶

AS LOU’S EXODUS APPROACHED, THERE WAS A SHARED ANXIETY BETWEEN THE THREE OF US and especially between Chuck and him. It was more than painfully apparent that their more youthful, troublemaking days were behind them and that their time together was limited. Therefore, every moment together had to be savored. So, on a typically bright spring Sunday morning in Las Vegas, Chuck and Lexi came bursting into Lou’s home while he made breakfast in nothing but white boxer shorts.

“Let’s go!” Chuck yelled.

“Good Christ! What’re you doing?” Lou demanded.

“We’re going to the Grand Canyon today. The three of us. Get dressed.”

“Nice boxers, Lou,” Lexi teased.

“You’re lucky I’m wearing anything at all.”

“I rented a Jeep. It’s goddamn gorgeous out. Come on. We’ll get breakfast in Boulder City.”

It was a day well spent. They walked out onto the new Skywalk and laughed at the magnitude of how disappointing it was. They threw big rocks down and took bets with each other on how many seconds it would be before they heard a thud. They reveled in the idea that they were making changes to the earth through destruction. Lexi took a photograph of Chuck and Lou standing at the edge of a ridge with nothing below it but the absolute bottom. They went off-road through the Joshua-tree forest, and Lou made his case against the band U2 — pompous and riding its own coattails. They stopped at a quiet desert bar for a few beers and a couple games of tabletop shuffleboard. Lexi asked Lou if he thought he’d miss Las Vegas. “I’ll certainly miss being able to have days like this,” he admitted.

✶

A WEEK LATER, CHUCK AND LOU WERE DRIVING THROUGH THE DESERT AGAIN, this time one-hundred-twenty miles north to the small mining town of Beatty, Nevada. This was a routine getaway location for the guys. It was on the edge of Death Valley, so there would usually be a couple of geology students from some university there studying its soil and plant life and temperatures. At night they drank at the Sourdough Saloon, situated on the main road just before the only stoplight in town.

The Sourdough Saloon had a large horseshoe-shaped bar where an Amazonian bartender served cold beers at two-fifty each, whiskey and tequila for four bucks, and generic frozen pizza from the supermarket for five dollars a pie. Old rifles and taxidermied heads of big-horn sheep adorned the walls. The jukebox was loaded with Dion and The Belmonts, and Johnny Cash.

This trip, like all the others, was a raucous spectacle. Lou drove them to Beatty in record time. When they walked into the bar, the bartender was in a shouting match with an equally large, though slightly less masculine, patron. From what the boys could tell, things were about to get out of hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” Chuck asked Lou.

Lou noticed a short, older man at the other side of the bar watching them. He must have sensed their confusion, because when he and Lou made eye contact, the man nodded slightly and began to walk around to them. He didn’t look like the average local. Instead of worn work jeans and a tattered undershirt with a trucker hat, this man wore khaki chinos, a blue button-down and a faded blue baseball cap. When he reached them, the bartender had a handful of the enemy patron’s hair and was shaking his skull the way a dog shakes a dead rat in its mouth. Lou whispered to Chuck, “I think this guy is going to fill us in.”

The old man smiled with one corner of his mouth as he reached into his pocket, then brought his hand to his neck and spoke in a slow, humming robotic voice. “iT’S oK. THeY’Re BroTHeR aND SiSTeR.”

Lou at first didn’t see the stoma in the man’s neck because he was too far away. And by the time he was close enough, Lou’s focus was on the battle at the bar. The man had to speak through a mechanized voice box. Chuck laughed. Lou thanked the man and offered him the barstool next to them. “Buy you a beer?” Lou offered.

“BuDWeiSeR. ThaNK YoU,” the man buzzed.

The fight ended shortly after that. Chuck and Lou drank heavily. When the old man was drunk enough and had left the bar, nerdy geology students replaced him. Chuck told the bartender he wanted her to show him her tits. She threatened to kick his ass. Lou offered to kick her ass instead. Then he apologized, bought her a shot and she backed down. They dropped twenty-eight bucks in the jukebox and played Dion’s “Runaround Sue” on repeat for an hour. With the little cash either of them had left — a couple of ones and a five — they scribbled messages on them and stapled them to the ceiling amidst other paper currency. They read:

Help! I’m lost. If found, please call Chuck Keller at 702-353-8068; This dollar bill was once touched by a real live Jew; Figure it out. – CK and LB, May 2007.

At one point, Lou escaped to the bathroom to vomit. When he returned, Chuck was gone. “Did you see my friend?” Lou slurred at the bartender.

“The little bastard was asking to see my tits again. I threw him out. Next time I’ll kill him.” Lou laughed. “Fuck you!” she yelled. “Get the fuck out of here!”

Chuck didn’t make it far after being tossed out on his ear. He ended up passed out in a heap in the street, using the sidewalk curb as a pillow. “Let’s go, asshole,” Lou said, as he kicked him. “We have to get off the street.”

They had enough sense to secure a hotel room before going to the bar, and once they found Lou’s car, which was in the Sourdough’s rear parking lot, Lou drove them to the hotel. He tried to anyway. All the booze rendered his short-term memory and global cognitive ability completely useless. He knew what the hotel looked like — a series of white, aluminum-sided trailers. He knew it was only two blocks from the Sourdough. But instead of driving there, Lou blew through the stoplight and drove away from town, north on U.S. 95 with Chuck comatose in the passenger seat. Where the fuck am I? he wondered.

After an hour of weaving the lane and the shoulder, he saw a small red light ahead and thought, Great, a whorehouse. I’ll pull in, and we’ll just sleep there. He and Chuck had been to brothels before. Not as customers, but as curious journalism students on a road trip to Lake Tahoe. He knew these places had what were called trucker rooms, which could be rented by the hour — much like the girl — for the long-haul truckers in need of sleep who passed by on America’s loneliest road.

But no one answered the door of the small house when Lou knocked. So he went back to the car and drove toward what he hoped was back to Beatty. An hour later, he was in town but still couldn’t find the hotel. He thought, Fuck it, I’m parking it right here and going to sleep.

He woke up to Chuck slapping him in the face. The late-spring desert sun was pouring through the car windows, cooking them both.

“Hey! Wake up, you fucking asshole. Why are we sleeping in the car? And in a gravel parking lot?”

“Because I couldn’t find the damn hotel last night. Drove more than an hour on the highway. Was just going to rent a trucker room for us at a whorehouse, but no one answered.”

“What do you mean, you couldn’t find the hotel?”

“I mean I have no idea where it is.”

Chuck pointed straight ahead through the windshield and laughed. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Lou had given up looking for their hotel in the hotel’s parking lot. The white, aluminum-sided trailers were about ten yards away from the car. It was morning, and they had to head home, but, since they spent the money, they figured they should get some use out of the room. They stormed the place like savages, ripping the bedding apart to get between the sheets catch some proper sleep for a few hours before showering and heading back to Las Vegas.

Dehydrated and hung over, the drive back felt much longer than the ride there the night before. Plus, they had reached the end of what was going to be their last adventure together for a while. Lou was leaving in a week.

“When did you know you loved her?” asked Chuck.

“Maybe when she first kissed me.”

✶  

IT WAS THE DAY BEFORE NEW YEAR’S EVE 2006 — her birthday. Like always, Michelle was back in Vegas to celebrate the holidays and her birthday with her parents. After a birthday dinner at a steakhouse inside the high-end neighborhood casino resort with her parents, she invited Lou to join them at one of the casino bars. Her parents were both smashed and giving away twenty dollar bill after twenty dollar bill to the bartop poker machines. Michelle was drunk, too, but sober enough to refuse to get into the car and go home with her mom and dad in the sloppy shape they were in. Lou offered to give her a lift. On the way home, they made a stop at her favorite taqueria.

“You know, you really missed your window with me,” she said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your window to be with me. All of those times we were each other’s stand-in dates to things, you never once tried to kiss me. And now it’s too late. You missed your window.”

“I didn’t know there was an open window.”

“That’s exactly your problem, Mr. Bergman. You. Don’t. Know.” She flipped her blond hair as she turned her head to look away from him out her window. This was how she flirted — by giving him a hard time.

When Lou pulled into the drive-thru, Michelle unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him, her back against the passenger door. “When you finish ordering, I’m going to kiss you,” she said.

Lou looked at her and laughed.

“Welcome to Los Tacos. Order when you’re ready,” the voice crackled from the intercom.

“I’ll have three regular tacos, two chicken soft tacos and…” he turned to Michelle who was still perched against the door. “What do you want again?”

“Two tacos and an order of nachos. And a Diet Coke.”

He turned back to the intercom. “Two tacos and an order of nachos.”

“And a Diet Coke!” Michelle said.

“I know. Relax. And a Diet Coke. Please.”

“That’ll be seven-fifteen. Second window.”

Before Lou could even depress the clutch, Michelle pounced. She swung her right leg around so that she was straddling him. It was a tight squeeze, and their faces were close.

“You’re kidding me,” he said.

She looked deeply into his eyes for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and slow and hard. It was deep and shallow. It was passionate. It was incredible. And when it was over, it left Lou dazed.

Michelle looked at him and said, “Okay. Now that that’s done, we can go back to being friends.” She swung her leg back around, plopped down in the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt. The car in line behind them honked. Lou looked at her.

“You can do that again if you want.”

“Nope. That’s it. Just showing you what you’ve been missing out on.”

He pulled up to the window, paid and drove her home. As they divided the tacos in her parents’ driveway, Lou asked her, “You’re still going to be my date for my New Year’s party tomorrow, right?”

“Of course. We’re friends. And friends don’t stand each other up. Besides, my parents are going, too. I’m not going to stay home alone.”

“All right. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Then I guess you will. Goodnight, Mr. Bergman. Thanks for the birthday tacos.”

“Thanks for the birthday kiss.”

She smiled at him and headed into the house.

By the morning, he was over the kiss. It was no big deal. He kissed girls all the time. But when she showed up at the party wearing a perfectly fitting little black dress, he felt butterflies in his gut. And at midnight, they kissed again. And when the party was over, they drank the last of the champagne on his bed. And she spent the night with him. And as they lay together, Michelle Kaminski took Lou Bergman’s head in her hands and said, “This face… I’ll never look at it the same again. What have we started?”

✶  

“WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE?” Chuck asked. “To fall in love?”

“Just like you remember. Except better.”

They drove a few silent miles. Then Chuck said, “I met a girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her name is Gina Acerbi. She’s that pretty Italian girl who works up in sales and catering. Tiny little thing; great tits. She was in my diversity training class. I don’t know what to do.”

“What is there to do? Nothing wrong with knowing a cute girl.”

“There is if I’m fucking her.”

“Jesus Christ, Chuck. You and Lexi are moving in together in a week.”

“I didn’t plan on it. Jesus, man. Like Michelle, she just came out of nowhere.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I want to feel what you feel. I want to know what it’s like to love someone so much — and know that they love you just the same — that you’re willing to throw away your entire life just to be a part of theirs. I want that. I want that passion of making out in a fast-food drive-thru. I want those goddamn butterflies. You know what I get now? I get to move in with a girl — who I care about, and yeah, I love her — but a girl who reads the Bible in bed. You can imagine what my sex life has been like with her.”

Chuck had a point. He’d always been a sexual animal, often a crazed beast with an enduring tumescence. And whenever he and Lexi had a mini-breakup, he made sure to do as much migratory humping as possible.

“The Bible is sexy. In parts. Violent, too. That ought to turn you on,” Lou said.

“The Bible doesn’t give me butterflies.”

“And Gina does?”

“And Gina does.”

Part I Part II

[odellq717770750-blog]

Santa clam Claus Around The World Through Randy Stocklin.

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