Home May Not Be Where the Heart Is, But It's Still Home...

Three months ago I bitched incessantly about how much I hated being home. More than two months ago I stopped blogging. Now I am looking back, thinking to myself about how much of a little shit I am for not blogging all those months. I blog for myself, whether it be to chronicle my life or to bitch to some bored person who has decided to read my blog to kill time. The truth is that I stopped blogging because I ran out of stuff to bitch about. A few weeks in I settled down, got back in to my routine, and started having what will undoubtedly go down as one of the best summers of my life.

I leave to return to school in two days and I have been thinking about how much, for the first time ever, I am going to miss home. I really, truly will. Not once since I stopped blogging have I been bored. Between work, taking care of my grandfather, and hanging out with friends, I have been kept 100% occupied. Not just occupied, though. I was entertained. I became close friends with unbelievable people. For the most part, I became closer with the friends that I had already, not that one can be expected to maintain the same friend base forever. I learned that, despite their flaws and a few unforgivable acts, my parents are the coolest, most wonderful people on the face of the planet...despite being huge pains in the ass, of course. I went to the beach, drove around for hours smoking with someone I have known my entire life and never had any idea was cool, and hung out nightly with awesome people who can have no idea how awesome I think they are because I will never tell them directly, for fear of sounding too sentimental (I am considering this blog to be a one time departure from my normal "not too mushy, now, Andrew" rule).

All in all, Summer '06 was fantastic. It was more than I could ever have expected coming off the heels of the best semester of my life. I can't say I wish it wouldn't end because I am a Navy brat in constant need of change, but I can say that I have never been more fulfilled. For the first time in a long, long time, I can finally say that I am 100% happy, satisfied completely with my existence exactly the way it is. No stupid personal goals of weight loss, no compulsive need to feel needed, and no dissatisfaction with a life I can't help but lead.

To the people who taught me these lessons, those that helped me down this so-called road we know as life, thanks. Rachel, Lindsay, Mike, Jocelyn, Diana, Steve, Evan, BR crew, Risa, and all those little bumps in the road that drove me nuts but kept me occupied....peace.

Gone Are the Days...

Gone are the days when one could go out to breakfast alone, quietly read a book, and engulf their food in the swiftest manner possible; the days when one could narrowly avoid becoming the first person on the whom the “heimlich maneuver” poster and learning kit conspicuously posted on the greasy kitchen wall becomes an actual learning implement, with their own, dumb, choking ass becoming the test dummy. Of course, you wouldn’t have to engulf your food if you weren’t constantly receiving reproachful stares from all of the elderly married couples and the even more annoying, “We fucked for hours last night and now we want pancakes before we stop calling each other” couples. At least the older couples give you the benefit of the doubt that can only come with life experience. “Maybe he is waiting for someone…maybe he is on an errand and got hungry…maybe he’s…gay.” I guess the assumption really just is that someone eating alone is a lonely, sad person who can’t even find a partner suitable enough to share a table at IHOP with.

Such is the story of my morning. I had to wake up this morning and drive to Manassas (or “Man-asses” as we NOVAers like to call it) so that I could get the 30,000 mile checkup and new tires on my car. Honestly, the only good thing I can say about Manassas is that it is the only place in Northern Virginia where I have not been judged for having a donut tire, the sad remnant of my Tuesday night flat tire incident (basically just me getting a flat while Lindsay and I were driving around smoking, her screaming that she wouldn’t get out of the car because “she’s the girl” and me screaming that I couldn’t fix it because, “I’m the gay”). Since then I have had to drive around on a set of wheels that would make 50 cent (fitty) want to kill himself…come to think of it, can we subject him to my car. This tire has also put a damper in the ol’ social life, seeing as I couldn’t really drive too much without fear of another flat, and thus, another awkward meeting with whoever decides to pull over and help me with the tire. It is just that sort of awkward meeting I hope, more than anything, to avoid.

Update on the car…it needs new transmission fluid, meaning that this will take another hour. I have been here for two hours and it doesn’t look like I am going anywhere anytime soon. They still haven’t done the tires or this new transmission fluid thing so I figure I have somewhere in the range on two to three hours left. What sucks is that I am running out of things to do. I have already completely reorganized my Itunes library, restored my Ipod (because I could) and reloaded all of my music. Even with all of that, I am now on paragraph three of this blog and have read the entire pamphlet for the Hyundai Elantra, Santa Fe, Tucson, Tiburon, and the new Entourage…“the mini-van that makes mini-vans cool again, while not taking too big a chunk out of your pocketbook or adding too much to your gas bill.” God, please hear my call and let me escape this misery. The sound of CBS news in the background is really the cherry on top of the Ihop funnel cake (which was delicious, thank you).

I have one more thing to talk about, and it relates back to that CBS news I was referring to. You would think that with all the shit going on in the world a major news network would have something more important to talk about that different tricks you can use to sell your home. Still, I understand that the market in the area is down and that people are getting pretty desperate. I even understand that some people, in their infinite lack of wisdom, turn towards some higher power in an attempt to get what they want, as if following that crusades mentality of “No, God’s on my side…no he’s on my side…nononono, he’s on my side.” Did that mentality work then? No. All it got them were dozens of wars and millions of lives lost, all because god was on their side. Well, it seems that this mentality has been passed on to people desperate to sell their homes without having to lower the price too much. After all, life, like war, is all about profit. What these pathetic people are turning to, however, is what makes this truly sad. Apparently, purchasing a small, three-inch plastic figurine of St. Joseph, the RE-Max proclaimed “Patron Saint of Real Estate,” and burying him in your yard UPSIDE DOWN will help sell your home. At the modest cost of $10 and your eternal soul, you can sell your house within a week, guaranteed, or God will cease to exist forever. My God, if hell exists, I think I would rather be there than with all these idiots in Heaven who sold their soul and their homes to the highest bidder.

P.S. See Little Miss Sunshine. It is THE BEST!

Hello, Old Friends...

I apologize greatly for the lack of blogging recently. I promise that soon it will be revamped and there will be regular posts again. Life at home just does not warrant wasting everyone else's time. Until then, adieu.

Paul Bettany's Ass...

In the infinite boredom that comes with being home I have come to find that one way of quelling said boredom is through premium movie channels. These include HBO, Showtime, Cinemax and, past 11, Skinemax...for the comedy portion of today's feature presentations. After all, there really is nothing like heterosexual softcore porn to lighten one's mind. "Ohhh, yesss, ohhh god....fuck me...harder...HARDER" as the guy pounds back and forth on the woman's ass, revealing a great deal of space between the two people. One question...WHERE IS THE PENETRATION!?

Ok, tangent done. That really was never intended to be part of this blog. What has really come about as a result of my watching premium channels is a new, yet undying love for Paul Bettany's ass. His ass is possibly the most perfect, well shaped, muscled but soft...in a word: beautiful. Of course, it goes hand in hand with the rest of Paul Bettany, but we won't go into that. My fascination really does lie in that perfect British bum.

In other news...I have done nothing lately. I work, I come home, I smoke a little, and that is about it. Woohoo, rahrah, life sucks, bleh. Alright, I am gonna go hang out with some people. Btw, if anyone gets the chance, take some time, rent a Paul Bettany movie, and look at his ass. The movie Wimbledon, which I am currently watching, is a perfect example. The movie seems to focus almost entirely on his perrrfect ass.

Not a Father, Just a Donor of Seeds...

Ok, so it has long since been obvious that the people of this world will do anything to make a buck. Prostitution, stripping, working at a fast food restaurant... Most people, however, find ways of making money that are sometimes honorable and often legitimate. The problem is that without a college degree (pending, thank you) and the fact that I will only be in NOVA for a few months, it has been hard to find suitable work. Banana Republic is always great, but the money is just not there. It would be fine if I didn't have a spending problem, but I do and I don't want to change that. Thus, I have taken the last week trying to find some, perhaps not normal but at least legitimate form of financial gain. This desperate search has led me to two job fields I never would have thought I would enter...

The first, which I have been "participating" in for more a week, involves something that most people would consider to be "morally bankrupt" while others might consider it to be just a little weird. Think a step above prostitute, but for 150 a shot the only one getting any pleasure is me...give up? Well, you are officially reading the words of a father-to-be...or at least a father in the most rudimentary, biological sense. Up to three times a week I go to the Gamete Donors in Fairfax to give a little (splooge) back to the community. They say that within the next five years that my sperm is kept cryogenically frozen, to be bought by desperate lesbians and homos with surrogates, I could produce as many as 50 children. The best part of this whole thing, apart from the fact that I will never be contacted by any of these children, is that I go in for thirty minutes two or three times a week and walk out 150 bucks richer! Anyone with a problem with it can kiss my expensive-pant clad ass.

The other, which I just got today, involves me being a salesman. No, this is not a door-to-door thing. I don't have that kind of a death wish. Friends, I would like to tell you about the wonderful product those amazing folks at Cutco would like to bring in to your family's kitchen. That's right, this beautiful set of knives, from the #3 knife maker in the world. At the insanely low cost of $799 you could have our most popular set of knives. That is at half the cost of a similar set of Henckls, and these are just plain better. I mean, look at these kitchen shears. I know they look like scissors, but they are shears. I mean, can scissors cut through a penny. NO! THEY CAN'T! Anyways, I make a minimum of 18 bucks per person I try and convince to buy and those who actually buy will allow me to make way more money. This job is crazy for how much money you can actually make. I mean, I am sure it is possible that they sucker you in a little bit, trying to get new employees and whatnot, but I think this could really work. Some people who have worked for them have made more that 10,000 in a summer. SWEET ASS!

Anyways, I am going to bed. Pretty exhausted and tomorrow is gonna be a long, long day. That god I don't have to go to the "bank" tomorrow....I might not have the strength.

My Super Sweet Sixteen...and Why Allergies Are the Devil!

I had forgotten how horrible some people in the United States can be. Having nothing better to do than sit at home all day watching TV, I have happily settled in to My Super Sweet Sixteen on MTV. By happily I mean that there is nothing else on and that I have become infuriated as to how rich some kids are...the little fuckers! Right now Kanye West is playing at the 16th of birthday party of L.A. Reid's son's birthday party, held at Jay Z's club in NYC. Total cost of the party: $200,000...WHAT THE FUCK!? Skeet skeet god damn that is more than I will make in the next five years. One thing that did make me happy...sorta...is that I just saw the Arctic Monkeys on MTV. Why sorta? Because I don't want them to be mainstream American crap...that can only mean bad things. Still, they kick ass and I hope that America gets exposed to them so that perhaps there will be a change in musical tastes to something that doesn't involve big asses being the predominant topic.

Now, some may ask why I am spending my day indoors, subjecting myself to bad television. The answer is simple, friends. I cannot breathe. Northern Virginia is infected with pollen and humidity...my two least favorite things on earth. My first week at home (as today makes an official week) has been spent in a sudafed induced haze. Really, I am just waiting for my liver to fail. I figure between drinking and sudafed I have about a week left before jaundice strikes, so the next time anyone sees me...I might be yellow.

Just an update...Chelsi's boyfriend Matt showed up to her photoshoot and started flirting with her best friend. I smell drama! Nothing ruins a sweet 16 party like a boyfriend with wandering eyes and...gasp...the promise of juniors crashing your birthday party! What a strange and awful new development. Anyways, as I learned from the episode at 12:30, breaking up with a boyfriend right before the party can only lead to personal growth and the guarantee that daddy spent at least an extra twenty grand on your new car...someone break up with me, please.

Anyways, I have to go get ready to go to folding class tonight at banana. Apparently I am going to be teaching people to fold and learning some new folds...woot. I also have to go make a deposit...which is kind of an inside joke, but if you don't know what it means I will tell you...just don't wig out. Everyone have a great day.

Patiently Awaiting an Intermittent Burst...

There is a great line from Garden State that says that one day you walk into your house and it is no longer a home, it is just a house. For me, I crossed that threshold a long time ago. Home has not been in Clifton, VA for quite some time, and yet I often find myself coming back. The problem with coming back is that it is not by choice...at all. I don't want to be here and yet, out of necessity, I return every few months for my term and then parade off again, happy only to have survived my stay. Normally I make it through fine and as I drive off listening to music I have decided fits the mood for my personal retrospective I think that it wasn't as bad as I thought. You see, I am pretty darn good about making the best out of most situations, and while I will bitch 'til I am blue in the face about something there is normally a good chance that, overall, I didn't think it was that bad. My problem now is the fact that I have finally realized that the place I long ago decided was not "home" is really, 100% not home. Home is where the heart is, and my heart is just not in Northern Virginia. It's probably not in London, either. God knows where the bastard has run off to, but it bailed on me and at some point soon I am going to have to hunt it down again.

All of that being said, I don't want everyone to think that I think my life is horrible or whatever. It's not. Life in Northern Virginia is riotously simple. Wake up, go to work, take a break, hang out with friends (maybe), go to sleep, rinse, repeat. My life could be summed up on the back of a shampoo bottle, for Christ's sake. My parents and I are getting along swimmingly, which, for anyone that knows about my parents, is a huge shock. I have a few friends who are still home, and that god for them. I have a sweet job. I am probably gonna get another sweet job tomorrow. Everything has fallen into place quite nicely...but this life just feels empty. I work a lot so that time goes by quickly, meaning I get to go back to school "faster." I don't like not doing something every night, but I suppose I can get over that with time. I am still pretty much an alcoholic, but I barely smoke...and that is where I am left tonight.

I really, really, really just feel this intense need, rooted deep in my head and gnawing away at my brain, to smoke. It is the ultimate release from banality. That said, tonight I called a friend and asked if we could smoke and she said of course and that she had to get some. It is 1115 and I still have not smoked...and I just want to, god dammit, so I can go to sleep and feel some semblance of inner peace for like two fucking seconds. (Melodrama...whew) Hopefully the bitch'll call soon so I can just smoke a little bowl before bed and peace the fuck out. I don't want to smoke all the time. That phase in my life is over. Being a stoner was fun but fuck was it expensive and exhausting. Having your life revolve around a substance takes work. I just want a little bit tonight so I can relax because for some reason "high strung" does not seem an appropriate, nay, adequate word these days. I am becoming suburban, filled with my youthful angst and perfectly willing to spread it on to the rest of the world (this blog). Everybody just say a little prayer that I got some bud tonight, because if not "high strung" is going to become a permanent fixture of this blog, when all I really want to do is fucking mellow out and make fun of some people. Is that too much to ask?