tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46788320885543115372012-02-09T20:09:13.702-06:00EST. 1979JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.comBlogger7191100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-29824959274350413432012-02-09T19:45:00.003-06:002012-02-09T20:09:13.712-06:00

For my penance, or in legal speak from my DUI, I am to perform 200 hours of community service. Working for free sucks, but at least I wasn't required to don an orange jump suit and pick up trash with the Sheriff's department looking over my shoulder (aka "Cool Hand Luke") as has been known to happen. That shit isn't cool. At all. To repay my debt to society, I was allowed to choose my form of

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-3313001503549142502012-02-06T22:56:00.004-06:002012-02-06T23:24:59.468-06:00

Today began (begin) wiping the sleep out of my eyes, with perhaps the most attractive man I've ever been with; that's to brag, but I felt like I was in a dream, while I simultaneously pulled crust from my eyes, removed my right arm that kept him comfy all night, and gently kissed him on his cheek/arm/lips. The night before, we agreed to wake up at 9am sharp, but 9:30am came around and we

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-11064632936733845872012-01-23T12:43:00.003-06:002012-01-23T12:57:41.907-06:00

The "Stir Crazy" phenomenon is common this time of year for people, such as myself that live in Northern Climates. Obviously, it's been made worse with my reduced mobility. Although I can get around better now with this it's still no, ahem, walk in the park. It takes a ridiculous amount of time to do the things I am accustomed to. Like walking. And although the help I've received from my friends

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-79358514946868431902012-01-08T22:38:00.004-06:002012-01-08T22:58:33.117-06:00

Months ago I injured myself at work while moving a barrel of beer; although it landed on my toes, I was lucky. Nothing broke and although my big toe is still bruised I emerged relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, I had a another, much worse incident last Wednesday, and I wasn't as lucky. While putting kegs away, one slipped out of my hands and dropped square on the ridge of my left foot,

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-79239988886961928872011-12-30T00:38:00.004-06:002011-12-30T01:09:53.869-06:00

Phone sex has always seemed like a slightly humorous concept to me, although the few times I have engaged said activity, I have enjoyed it - not necessarily in a "sensual" way, more like in a playful way. I've always injected a modicum of sarcasm within my romantic endeavors. Anyways, last night I got this and the following texts from T:[I should note he is still out of town]T: "Are you at work?"

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-74948752059043355052011-12-22T15:49:00.004-06:002011-12-22T16:21:04.575-06:00

Where to begin. Well, for one thing, "T" randomly visited me a at work yesterday. I'm not big on surprises, but that was an awesome one. He only stayed for a bit, we shared a smoke and made out in the alley like teenagers. That cute fucker left me with a massive boner. And I was wearing skinny jeans! So insensitive. But AWESOME. Also, in last night news, I had my iPhone plugged into the sounds

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-75916096002875296692011-12-12T16:49:00.005-06:002011-12-12T17:13:46.847-06:00

Since April I have have worked every fucking (mostly) bullshit Monday night, a shift I inherited from a former co-worker. But tonight I was left off the schedule, and THANK GOD. Instead of making shit for tips, looking after the bartender and not seeing friends, I am a free man!And..the Sober Guy I'm seeing, T, offered to make me dinner not only for me, but also for his Roommate, and her

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-72627546789148156682011-12-02T16:48:00.004-06:002011-12-02T17:30:01.700-06:00

Despite all the encouragement I have received in regards to the last post, I have not, nor will I engage in an illicit 3/4 way. It's just not my style, and besides, as a bit of a control freak, that whole situation simply wouldn't suit my many neurosis. HOWEVER! In the meantime, I have managed to meet not one, two but three guys. I'm only fucking one of them (depending on your definition), and

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-67295662360000640702011-11-14T12:37:00.004-06:002011-11-14T12:56:28.971-06:00

Last week, while at work I chatted up a 2 guys whom I was very attracted to, and whom I assumed might play for my team. Naturally I gave them liberal samples of beer and expelled my knowledge concerning such beverages. At some point they were joined by another gentleman, also very good looking. But I figured they were just 3 guys hanging out, which they were...but. While I was waiting for the

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-14559062621792431302011-10-27T23:37:00.003-05:002011-10-27T23:53:38.135-05:00

Where to begin? For one, my computer monitor died last week, hence my lack of updates. I took that piece of shit in the alley behind my place and bashed the shit out of it with my fists. And boots. I just spent $136 that I don't have to buy a new one, and it took 3 attempts for Fed Ex to deliver it. Work has been retarded annoying; I had a meeting on Monday morning that concerned the history of

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-90706237410288989342011-10-07T02:20:00.003-05:002011-10-07T02:31:14.145-05:00

Montrose (my Digital SLR) and I have resumed our on/off again torrid affair. We had a hot date last night, and although I'm a bit rusty, I like these images, in particular the 4th one. Lots more to come!

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-37376260182903382011-10-06T17:44:00.004-05:002011-10-06T18:17:16.984-05:00

A few weeks ago I met a GREAT guy, attractive, successful, smart, etc. Keep in mind we only have hung out twice. The first time was at the bar I work at, and the female co-worker's were impressed. The second time was at my place and it quickly devolved into a pants off party. It's safe to safe to say we were hot for each other. Then he had to fly to England. Which is his homeland; actually Canada

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-39322068782541948752011-09-22T15:18:00.003-05:002011-09-22T15:30:40.746-05:00

...is Aaron Paul. He plays a character on my favorite show which is "Breaking Bad". Yes, he has a HUGE forehead, but something about those eyes. Anyways, there is a plot line wherein his girlfriend dies (tragically, but I don't want to spoil the details) and he keeps calling her cell phone (at least 50 times), knowing she is dead, but wants to hear her voice mail message just to hear her voice.

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-88292504095239397482011-09-14T11:24:00.004-05:002011-09-14T11:34:30.732-05:00

Sunday morning I woke up on time for work, and really, Really, REALLY needed to take a piss. BUT my Roommate was occupying the bathroom shaving God knows what (coincidentally she was getting ready for church). So as I saw it I had 3 options:#1: KITCHEN SINK: I nixed that since their were dishes in there that needed to be cleaned.#2: GO OUTSIDE: Maybe an obvious option, but I only piss in alleys

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-22867617666032942302011-09-08T23:10:00.004-05:002011-09-08T23:24:36.802-05:00

Every so often I have a "moment", by which I mean a minute or two where it feels like everything freezes and I marvel at how awesome Something(s) can be. Perfect example: the other day I had the privilege of drinking a La Trappe Isid'or, and without realizing it, after it was set in front of me, I took a sip and said "holy fuck" under my breath. The stranger next to me said "wow, you really must

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-63526485049385957352011-09-07T14:18:00.005-05:002011-09-07T14:27:48.220-05:00

Last night I was on the train around 9PM, on mt way home from work when the L stopped cold at the Belmont station. The doors kept opening and closing and then the conductor got on the loud horn "get your hands out of the door or else I'm coming back there". He ended up fulfilling his promise/threat. I don't know what transpired, and we were stalled for 15 minutes, but it was an entertaining

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-80027585323025428582011-09-06T04:45:00.005-05:002011-09-06T04:53:21.699-05:00

...on credit, for $5 from a homeless guy, in the alley behind the bar. It's beyond amazing and my new favorite object. You probably can't see in that shitty photo, but Santa's eyes are totally cashed out. I plan on planting a fern in it. Best post birthday present EVER. PS - Memo to the bitch that ran me over with her wheelie bag on the train that also ripped out the ear phones from my head, FUCK

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-13412708708135168442011-09-06T04:20:00.004-05:002011-09-06T04:42:11.636-05:00

I'm not big on birthdays, and turning 32 isn't exactly a milestone, but HOLY SHIT I had a blast last night. At first I felt a bit odd throwing a party for myself, but in retrospect, it was really a gathering of the people I love, respect and admire. A month ago I reserved the "party room" at the bar I work at, but at the last minute it got re-upped by a bunch of people who were tasting various

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-6428839151003533372011-09-04T01:40:00.003-05:002011-09-04T01:56:55.726-05:00

...and I like it. The solo celebration took place past Midnight by cleaning my place up, ripping the window a/c unit out of my window and wondering where these "kids" are making loud drunken sounds. At this hour, at this age...I am thinking about where thought I would be/should be, but at the same time, will sleep soundly knowing that I am in a good place. Not financially secure, nor

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-83574542353909302952011-08-31T12:08:00.004-05:002011-08-31T13:01:01.574-05:00

...is Decoration Day by the Drive By Truckers. I bought it at the Virgin music store, in Chandler, AZ on my continental solo drive out to LA. Best $15 I ever spent. Blaring that shit while rushing my old black Jetta through the Mojave desert. It was one of the best experiences of my life. "Something's Gotta Give Pretty Soon" To where you wanna be at the end of the day... "Hell No I'ant Happy"

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-18450776126926311952011-08-30T15:02:00.006-05:002011-08-30T15:19:40.039-05:00

For the last year and a half plus, I wore my hair in a decidedly "shaggy" fashion, not unlike Justin Beiber but less kept. Finally, I reached my breaking point when I couldn't insert headphones into my ears without trapping hair in there. So I had my hair cut off, over 6 inches in places, and it feels SO fucking good! My boss was struggling to define his positive feelings towards this change,

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-17381615105827374982011-08-26T12:48:00.004-05:002011-08-26T13:23:48.361-05:00

Anyone who has ever worked in a bar/restaurant establishment knows that you have Regulars. Some are bad, most are good, and some...well, some are FUCKIN' Awesome. It is this latter category that brings me much joy - in that a odd form of a relationship develops; you aren't friends, not strangers nor acquaintances, but rather a hybrid. That's a long winded way of introducing my new, favorite,

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-75466327126722019652011-08-06T19:59:00.006-05:002011-08-06T20:24:07.027-05:00

After the failure of a potential relationship with the guy I was seeing (he even invoked the lame "it's not you, it's me" dreaded excuse) I met another guy, whom I will refer to as "Juan". This began as a purely sex driven situation, in that we were both looking for a fuck buddy. God, the sex has been amazing, as I'm sure the neighbors can attest to. That being said, I'm starting to have feelings

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-26366069058823492612011-07-27T13:54:00.005-05:002011-07-27T14:32:51.709-05:00

There's always been a debate about the authenticity of the "Chicago" accent; much like the often imitated "Southern" twang accent, it's Chicago one has been abused in various films, TV shows and the like. It's not a universal fact that you talk like "Joliet" Jake Blues if you hail from the Windy City, but there are certain words that have a certain cadence. I believe this holds true, even if you

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-87268114732925812302011-07-24T23:56:00.011-05:002011-07-25T00:44:40.087-05:00

"Never know you gone 'til it all goes/Put in something more 'til it all goes"-SkyzooWhile the above quote might seem dramatic, is it indicative of my current attitude towards life; perhaps I sound like a broken record, but I am busting my ass, and yeah, might not have much to show for it, but I am doing more and more, in little but meaningful ways every day. Rather than detailing them here, or

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-12618605491544004512011-07-15T13:53:00.006-05:002011-07-15T14:45:00.670-05:00

This morning I faced a very difficult decision - catch a bus to make it to my monthly appointment to see my case worker, or drop a monster deuce. I chose the latter, a choice that cost me $8 in cab fare, but it was worth it. Literally, that drop in the bucket cost me hard earned dollars.Whatever.I'm in a great mood today and rocking to Friendly Fires, currently my favorite band by FAR. Poppy, fun

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-72381516875595009842011-07-11T11:05:00.004-05:002011-07-11T11:32:14.383-05:00

1. Don't ever, Ever, EVER fucking drink and drive. 2. But if you do, don't drive a 12 ton truck loaded with 6 tons of steel, leave Wrigley Field drunk, hit a moped, drag it down 3 blocks and hide in a bar. That happened to this guy. 3. Don't get so wasted you have unprotected anal sex, get genial warts, in your ass, thus being unable to shit, and have to have surgery to remove said warts. 4.

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-47095717805907496622011-07-05T14:33:00.005-05:002011-07-05T14:43:27.024-05:00

This year I celebrated the holiday in a most American way, I worked...all fucking weekend. At first I was pissed about it, and wanted to do nothing more than chill at a friend's BBQ and get ripped on beer and whiskey. But in retrospect, I am glad I avoided the crazy shit going in the streets, parks and backyards of Chicago. It wasn't a total loss of a weekend though. I cleaned the hell out of my

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-26616430315770778772011-06-30T16:49:00.004-05:002011-06-30T17:36:05.808-05:00

A few weeks ago I got an offer in the mail to switch to AT&T U-Verse internet service; at first I was reluctant because the offer seemed to good to be true, but when I called the nice young man on the phone charmed me into "at least trying it out". Since the price was right, and because I was imagining elaborate sexual fantasies with who I imagined to be a hot guy on the other end of the line, I

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-74525617115793960002011-06-21T14:44:00.004-05:002011-06-21T14:53:17.693-05:00

This concept has never really worked out for me, but encouraged by 2 of friend's recent success with it, I decided to give it another go. So far...these boys won't leave me alone. I meet up with one for beers on Saturday night and...he spent the night. We didn't do more than just make and cuddle, which is almost perfect in a way. Last night I got four new guy's phone numbers; I'm not mentioning

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-25207480897130064612011-06-16T15:47:00.013-05:002011-06-16T16:45:15.387-05:00

Around 11PM last night at work, The Waiter I Briefly Dated came into the bar to join his co-workers in getting drunk. Not a problem, that why bars exist, for people to have a good time with their friends and occasionally drink to excess (within reason-ish). My problem began about 45 minutes later. I'm fucking exhausted, struggling to stay awake on my tired feet and annoyed that we are now forced

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-32685831836923064022011-06-13T18:13:00.003-05:002011-06-13T18:17:40.903-05:00

My Grandfather (my Mom's Dad) turned 90 today...90! How fucking cool is that? He's still in (reasonably) good health and lives independently (albeit with some help from my Mom when locks himself out, or crashes his SUV into the security gate at the entrance to his neighborhood. But still, I cannot imagine living to be that old - he's got 59 years on me. Tough guy he is.

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-80830936073322101542011-06-06T15:39:00.003-05:002011-06-06T15:51:11.075-05:00

THIS weather has been so messed up; for example, I woke up early this morning to cool, dark and stormy, but after a brief nap, I arose to get hit in the face with 96 degree temperatures and the sun seemingly outside my window. Being a life long resident of the Midwest, I can handle the cold, but the heat literally fucks with my head. I thought I might have slept through an entire day...the change

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-36522107783022879092011-05-27T22:45:00.006-05:002011-05-27T23:39:55.796-05:00

Whether that's true or not (probably is) that's what I admitted to, to a roomful of strangers last night. It wasn't an AA meeting, but rather one of my thrice weekly DUI classes I am mandated to go to.Over the many meeting/classes I have attended, I have seen when the "facilitator" single out one particular person, not to pick on them, but to use as an example/cautionary tale, and I actually

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-78427909490739079212011-05-20T17:29:00.005-05:002011-05-20T17:51:40.189-05:00

Somewhere buried in my DNA is a predilection to buy jeans from H&M; it never works out. Keep in mind, I like my skinny-ish jeans, but whatever reason the crotch is either way too tight or curiously, way too long. Whatever. So I woke up on this beautiful Spring day to return the stupid jeans I bought last week - BUT - that was merely an excuse to be outside and take pictures. Out of the hundred or

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-89201504715136789022011-05-16T19:38:00.006-05:002011-05-16T19:49:48.785-05:00

First off - HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. OK, I think I got that out of my syst-HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA. Haha. Ha. After I was done with my shift at work I thought about sticking around to watch the Bulls game, I mean, I don't have 65" HDTVs in my crib. But the combination of my boss - who was a DICK to me earlier in the day and my pissed off co-workers, and back to my boss; after I was off

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-37636557372738281592011-05-12T12:58:00.000-05:002011-05-13T15:41:32.468-05:00

The title of this post is a direct quote, from a regular, female bar patron that I have served, many, many times in the past. She is a lightweight, in that she drinks a Carlsburg and a Buttery Nipple (a disgusting shot of liquor that people that can't handle their liquor seem to prefer) and hits on not only me, but all the other guys that I work with. Anyways, she came in DRUNK AS FUCK on Tuesday

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-39529145465142824962011-05-09T21:31:00.003-05:002011-05-09T21:47:14.647-05:00

We've been staffing up at work lately, in particular with regards to the Bar Backs (my position), and I really need to tell you all a story about the hot and FUCKING retarded guy they hired purely out of nepotism. First, I will describe him. He is about 6'4", one of his arms are bigger than both of mine combined and covered in tattoos. He has dimples. That's the good. Here's the bad: he wears

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-58673568893346188972011-05-06T23:34:00.004-05:002011-05-06T23:50:36.377-05:00

...in my 'hood tonight. Keep in mind, these are very raw/unprocessed images I took without the proper equipment, and I was shooting on the fly and trying NOT to arouse the suspicion of Chicago's finest, who kept eye fucking the guy (me) using buildings and signposts as tripods. If anyone knows a better way to display images on blogger, I'm all ears. Perhaps I'll link to a flickr account or

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-12912767284974640332011-05-06T21:33:00.006-05:002011-05-06T21:40:37.330-05:00

KiD CuDi - Ghost - Official Music Video - 2011 found on Hip-HopGotta get it through my big head,I was so close to being dead,Yeah, life live it, and nobody self-trips,man i'm just walking without being led,see the world is so crazy and filled with such risk,and i just know i gotta pass them,the beginnings are followed by an end,in the in-between time I'm not running or hiding,See things do come

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-38867081912770155282011-05-06T14:48:00.004-05:002011-05-06T15:06:13.057-05:00

Let's discuss this concept called "therapy". Specifically, group therapy, of which I have been going through for the last months. I've done 42 hours (out of the 75 court mandated hours) and haven't gone in 2 weeks. There are many reasons why it's good/bad; lets start with the good. It has been helpful to talk about my problems with anonymous strangers. I can say things to these people I wouldn't

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-86281854392609904572011-04-29T12:24:00.006-05:002011-04-29T13:20:28.559-05:00

When this world eventually craps out, and I'm sure it probably will at some point, I was discussing with my friend what we, as humans, do NOT want to be found. Hopefully Al Gore, or whoever is in charge of the internet hits the "delete history" button before the asteroid hits, or we experience a massive melt down, or something else worse. Here's a partial list, off the cuff, of the shit we don't

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-56359706998545146502011-04-28T22:50:00.004-05:002011-04-28T23:08:46.338-05:00

Remember that waiter I briefly dated last fall/winter? Things ended badly, but we talked it out, and made it work since he still works next to where I do and it's just awkward...AGAIN. I though we were on the same page in terms of just being "friends", but he crossed the line last night, or rather tried mightily to. For one thing, he was drunk as shit, so I won't take it as a compliment when he

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-703991778014854042011-04-22T17:14:00.007-05:002011-04-24T11:00:28.596-05:00

IT'S been a fucking awful week in so many ways, but let's start with the thing I did after my DUI class on Tuesday (which was tough enough): the Victim Impact Panel. This is a court mandated experience, and one that I was least looking forward to. What happens, is that 250+ people that recently got a DUI gather in a stuffy room in a courthouse and listen to several speakers. Thankfully, I

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-36078651710700435832011-04-17T03:59:00.005-05:002011-04-17T04:41:11.844-05:00

And my God it felt good! And by today, I suppose I mean yesterday. Anyways, it was fucking crazy at work yesterday; not only did the Bulls come back at the last second (YES!!!) we also dealt with a large contingent of rowdy soccer fans. Easily in the top 5 of nuttiest days I've worked ever. Anyways, I had that floor locked down, but around 3PM, my boss, several customers and myself noticed the

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-46491045401397496762011-04-14T03:55:00.008-05:002011-04-14T04:47:08.033-05:00

Typical night at work for the most; "famous" author of a book to beer nerds everywhere hosted a tasting that lasted longer than it should have, got real busy on the main floor real quick, had to fix several kegs, etc. Washed and stocked a variety of hundreds of glasses, blah. Amongst the drudgery I spotted what is...no, one of my types, which is a skinny guy with a shaved head and glasses,

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-34664883310887404162011-04-08T14:05:00.003-05:002011-04-08T14:17:44.067-05:00

Yesterday I ventured to the Loop of Chicago, with the intention of paying my DUI court fees/fines. Naively, I thought this would be a simple process, but it was anything but. First obstacle: I had my camera with me in my backpack, which FREAKED security out. I assured them I was not going to shoot pictures inside said facility, and I sought out a storage locker to temporarily dispose of my baby.

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-37042164519600545472011-04-04T15:21:00.004-05:002011-04-04T15:38:37.124-05:00

...or so I'm told, by several of my co-workers. That either means I need to promoted, or stop working so hard. Unfortunately, there is no room to be elevated, and I have only one speed when I'm working...which is to FUCKING WORK. I like my job, don't get me wrong. And I don't mind going above and beyond when duty calls. But it is frustrating knowing that deep down, I could be doing so much more.

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-59197358127683123632011-04-01T22:21:00.005-05:002011-04-01T22:34:09.988-05:00

First conversation we had was todayME: (Looking down the stairs): "Hi, I'm Justin!"HER:" I know, you played the Black Keys really loud on Sunday night".ME: "Yes, sorry, I didn't know you moved in...that place has been vacant for over a year". HERE: "..."ME:"OK, then..."This new neighbor proceeded to mobilize the singular washer'dryer for the last 48 hours. I did not complain but I did remove her

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-89152083671991520082011-03-22T01:01:00.007-05:002011-03-22T01:13:37.758-05:00

Tonight I went to see the Mud Queens in action; this is a monthly-ish eveny in which many of my co-workers are involved. It was fun, to say the least. The ref, whose main job was to make sure the girls didn't fall off the stage, is actually my boss. To see him covered in mud was hilarious many times over.These women were serious as a heart attack too. But after the 1 minute rounds were over, they

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-65330104343356454872011-03-21T04:35:00.010-05:002011-03-21T05:47:36.254-05:00

Technically, I last saw a large body of water when I went to New York City...and Fire Island 2 summers ago. But the Atlantic, as grand as it is, has never really done it for me. It's always seemed flat and gray to me, even when I was a child visiting my Grandparents in Florida.I've always looked west, towards the Pacific. It took me about an hour to remember the last time I dipped my toe in that

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-32291167688994308192011-03-20T08:56:00.003-05:002011-03-20T09:01:40.746-05:00

Yet another of my favorite songs EVER. I've seen these guys perform this song live several times, and I have the hearing loss to prove it. The video below barely does it justice. Best part: "To the fucking rich man all poor people look the same. WORD on that. Ain't about my pistolAin't about my bootsAin't about no northern drivesAin't about my southern rootsAin't about my guitars, ain't about my

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-20389829310461508852011-03-19T21:10:00.003-05:002011-03-19T21:22:11.973-05:00

I think I drank enoughI think I smoked enoughI think I had enoughYeah I wanna go homeI think I seen enoughI think I said enoughI think I fucked enoughYeah I wanna go homeI can't handle it happening everydayI think it's time for me to get awayWhen the smoke clears, I'll be just likeThe rest it's what I do I'llGive it my personal best!Trix are for kids and not forFucking rabbits, you are inControl

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-41892392969663006652011-03-18T00:46:00.005-05:002011-03-18T01:11:12.811-05:00

I'm 2 weeks deep in what I refer to my "classes", which are actually out-patient treatment for being what a refer to as a "Problem-Human", or as the professionals consider "in-need", or common folk consider "normal". I've never been in any form of therapy before; I don't agree or disagree with it, but overall it's like a CHORE, something to do and after it's done I feel a slight relief.From what

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-45593688395606558512011-03-08T00:46:00.008-06:002011-03-08T01:26:30.364-06:00

Tonight I watched "A Single Man", a film which, despite the utter pretension of Tom Ford, succeeded in the way any good film should, in that it actually made elicited emotion from me. It didn't really make me feel sad, but it did make me feel...or rather, it made me remember how I felt when I was seeing this guy Matt. There have been posts where I have eluded to this guy, but never really

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-21591169569454331182011-03-06T03:04:00.003-06:002011-03-06T03:06:49.072-06:00

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-55635524329787775122011-03-02T13:30:00.004-06:002011-03-02T13:49:31.092-06:00

Whoa, what's this? A post? I know, even I am shocked. There is a good reason I have neglected to write anything for the last few weeks - mainly the crippling depression that has resulted from all this fucking bullshit I am going through as a result of that ill-fated decision back in December to get behind the wheel of a car when I clearly should not have. It's been about 2 weeks since I went to

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-44500231664620711162011-02-10T11:41:00.005-06:002011-02-10T11:59:21.255-06:00

This morning I was reading yesterday's Tribune while laying in bed; the front page headline was "Winter Blues" with dramatic type-face and several graphics. The article went on to point out the "one-two" of last week's blizzard and this week's sub-arctic temperatures. Why this is news worthy is beyond me. I could have written that article with my iPhone while waiting for the fucking Western #49

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-12128371518208666072011-02-09T02:30:00.008-06:002011-02-09T03:23:53.338-06:00

My enemies are few yet various; Cinnamon is the chief culprit-it's implausible but that spice reduces me to a quivering mess. The lead singer from those terrible FreeCreditReport.com commercials is another, as is the entire city of Phoenix. I can go on, but I'll focus on my most recent arch-nemesis: MUZACK (see below).That little green light glowing ominously at the top of that stack of A/V

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-35458243608338441822011-02-03T21:45:00.004-06:002011-02-03T22:05:45.180-06:00

Fucking Christ, Comcast has been jerking me off for the best part of 36 hours, and as a result, I made a concerted effort to make any customer service representative's life HELL. I brought the full fury of a Chicagoan, with little to no reason. Basically I was a horrible asshole, but in my defense, I pay through the nose for my internet and cable TV, and yes, the weather played a part but they

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-54332734282521283032011-02-01T03:46:00.010-06:002011-02-01T04:19:06.394-06:00

The last time a snowstorm of epic proportions was predicted, it was Winter 1999, and I was sharing an apartment in Lakeview with my brother. It was both my first year living as a resident in Chicago proper and a college freshman. I openly scoffed at the weather reports, and despite the knee high snow I trudged through in a failed attempt to extricate my Volkswagen, the CTA delivered me on time to

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-30844330558663678122011-01-26T11:36:00.009-06:002011-01-26T12:06:10.815-06:00

After I'm done with my court mandated "alcohol awareness" classes, I really want to get me some new education. So far I'm deciding between being certified as a bartender, a food service sanitation expert or an auto mechanic. I've favoring the latter; I really miss working with my hands, and although I won't be allowed to drive a car for some time, I think fixing them would suit me well. Fuck

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-74295159788258222462011-01-24T16:59:00.004-06:002011-01-24T17:11:40.756-06:00

*Perfunctory blog post alert*I really feel like my life is getting better; a series of small, yet important victories has led me to believe that I am capable of change and more importantly that I'm not a total fucking asshole/fuck-up. I got ways to go, but I think I'm on the right path. Although I'm not totally sober (I've had some drinks here and there, and there) I am proud to say I have not

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-21593249382640238932011-01-16T00:27:00.007-06:002011-01-16T00:47:37.244-06:00

I feel not the need to ruminate on this subject matter, and so I won't. But I will share what I think is not only a beautiful piece of film making, and/or amazing song but most of all, a sentiment that has been echoing within my mind as of late. And somehow it's been expressed within 5 minutes better than I can at this moment in time. My thoughts drift to you. I was smoking while thinking about

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-56911878427263982852011-01-07T01:13:00.003-06:002011-01-07T01:18:37.215-06:00

Perhaps it's a dramatic move, but I made a big decision tonight: I poured out a handle of vodka and 9 cans of beer. I immediately regretted it, but on reflection, felt better. I'm trying y'all. I'm TRYING.

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-80752492044557287192011-01-04T15:13:00.003-06:002011-01-04T15:27:49.138-06:00

Today Roomie and I had a very productive morning; she feed her friend's cat, I got my glasses adjusted, library (so excited to read "Secret Historian"), cleaned, etc, whatever. Also emptied our mailbox for the first time since Friday. Holy Shit. Our mail person must hate us. Anyways, in regards to my recent troubles, I received no less than 18 letters from attorneys seeking to represent me.

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-57115451154827786342011-01-01T22:36:00.006-06:002011-01-01T23:11:44.923-06:00

Happy New Years from Chicago. I'm not a big fan of New Years Eve, nor other "big" holidays; this past Christmas was the first one I experienced without a single member of my family, extended or otherwise. I wasn't really in a mood to celebrate because...I FUCKED UP BIG TIME. Let me preface this by saying I am NOT looking for sympathy or anything; the only reason for this post is to get the ghosts

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-42009461043223425762010-12-15T23:25:00.013-06:002010-12-16T00:02:30.765-06:00

I keep a large "in-box" of sorts, an object that collects my various forms of bullshit (bills, snapshots, etc) that I don't want to deal with. In the past I've been a champ at keeping it current, and throwing out old shit. Not so much as of late.So, since it was so insanely cold on Monday I shifted through it and made a serious discovery; I cracked some sort of AWESOME GAY DNA, or more

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-16505800891039160952010-12-09T13:07:00.005-06:002010-12-09T13:23:47.936-06:00

Last night I went out front of the bar for a smoke, and to stretch my Bar Back; little did I know that I was being watched by my DUDE on a security camera. Seriously. His place of business is literally next door, and they have security cameras. So he watched me smoke, stretch and talk to myself. And he still likes me. How cute. When he was done with his business, he came over and I marveled at

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-34699197140709655892010-12-08T03:35:00.003-06:002010-12-08T04:12:15.310-06:00

It's almost the one year anniversary of living with my current roommate; the majority of the time we've lived together has been good, even great at times. Overall, we're still in positive territory. That being said...SHE'S BEEN PISSING ME OFF LATELY. Nothing major, mostly minor things that when combined with the sudden onslaught of a wicked cold snap (IT'S FUCKING COLD HERE!) has made my ability

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-62193429995855232972010-12-01T15:11:00.006-06:002010-12-01T15:47:52.305-06:00

After I got my haircut last week (or rather 2 weeks ago...almost) when I alluded to the random hot Latino guy that gave me a hand job while sitting at the bar (for the record, I stopped him, and didn't get off), I thought, "Huh, that was odd" and dismissed it from my mind.Fast forward a week later, I'm riding the Red Line at 3:10AM, just left work, and I sit down...across from the same guy that

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-87407677549771928212010-11-30T13:42:00.001-06:002010-11-30T15:04:42.948-06:00

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-83426264902853783952010-11-18T15:25:00.005-06:002010-11-18T16:23:54.972-06:00

Holy shit...I discovered the HOLY fucking GRAIL of barbers. His is a modest single chair barbershop in Andersonville, (which if you weren't aware of, is the 4th or 5th Gayest zip code in the USA). I missed my bus, and had to cab it in rush hour traffic last night, but it was so worth it. Even after the 1 1/2 hour wait. I signed in with my name, his last appointment...and had time to burn, so I

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-7194632927011536132010-11-07T01:37:00.011-05:002010-11-07T01:34:43.914-06:00

A year or 2 after I was forcibly removed from my Mother's womb, I sprouted a thick head of angelic blonde hair. It was long, shiny and made people's day. Over the years it got progressively shorter, and darker (not to mention a brief high school infatuation with dying it all sorts of colors *SO FUCKING PUNK RAWK*) until I finally settled on a reasonable compromise, which was nothing of the sort

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-81957762005659742972010-11-07T01:05:00.005-05:002010-11-07T01:37:26.348-05:00

WARNING! THIS BLOG POST IS BORING AND ONLY SERVES TO HELP KEEP ME AWAKE UNTIL THE MAGICAL HOUR KNOWN LOCALLY AS "DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME", A TWICE YEARLY EVENT RESULTING FROM A PAGAN TRADITION TO ROB THE SOULS OF BABIES. AND PUPPIES. KITTENS TOO. AND TO GENERALLY FUCK WITH OTHERWISE FINE PEOPLE. Years ago, a farmer was tilling his land in central Indiana. The year was...a long time ago and at the

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-2716342197382315512010-10-31T08:09:00.003-05:002010-10-31T08:24:01.876-05:00

Worked another double last night; started at 9:15am and ended the night at 11:30pm. Against my better judgement I cabbed it to the my buddy's Halloween party, got super stoned, and waltzed back home. Less I oversleep, my Roomie and her friends decided to prep for some sort of marathom at 6:30am. There are few alarms more effective than a room full of Polish women. I'm only typing this because I

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-56250936700244116012010-10-20T22:40:00.002-05:002010-10-20T22:41:47.339-05:00

There is a cloud so perfectRedundant in an abundent blue skyI wish it would stick around...

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-59064703845064038772010-10-14T02:01:00.006-05:002010-10-14T02:17:09.889-05:00

Shit, this happened fast, and I'm resisting labeling this guy as my "boyfriend", mostly out of fear it will all turn to shit. But it's true, I'm falling, hard and fast. "Sal", as i will refer to him here, is a waiter at the restaurant next to the bar I work at. He's been coming in for months, and admitted he's been crushing on me for 6 months [awwww]. It's kinda perfect; he's done with work,

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-32217106091757113152010-10-11T13:11:00.003-05:002010-10-11T13:21:00.747-05:00

...is named Buster Posey. He's the current catcher for the San Francisco Giants. And he's all kinds of not only awesome, but also hotness. Move over Grady Sizemore, you just got dumped out from my sexual fantasy universe. Um, I mean, that is some quality, grade AAA+ ass. I'm pulling for the Giants this post season. Not only because of my pretend BF, but I think they have a legitimate chance. Oh,

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-24875655160456743192010-10-08T01:54:00.007-05:002010-10-08T02:16:44.486-05:00

Today I did not one, but two things I haven't done since May; I not only went to the gym but I rode my bike there and back (3 if you count the near miss-see below)! There are several reasons I have not either, and here are a few:-World Cup (working almost 30 consecutive days)-The bat-shit insane heat this Summer-A general sense of overall malaise This week, and the few prior have been beating me

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-28234559867639778902010-10-01T01:31:00.003-05:002010-10-01T01:47:12.189-05:00

The promotion I was given, got took back, in the space of 12 hours. Being a Bar back is far from a glamorous job, but I'm good at hacking away at it, and if I sometimes get beer sprayed in my face, so be it. So it was a very awesome elevation, to be told I would be a server...and then...NO. Fuck. To add insult to injury, I worked tonight, on my night off, at the last moment (I was asked asked 12

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-34454101617337625482010-09-30T06:18:00.006-05:002010-09-30T07:50:50.833-05:00

WHEW! So I got through a truly momentous weekend; the occasion was none other than my brothers wedding, which I obviously was an integral part of (albeit in the background). It's been 6 days since my lovely Sister In Law (God, that seems weird! But awesome) made an honest man of my brother. Last week was nuts; my Father stayed at my place, in my bed to be precise, which necessitated a thorough

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-6707508311453854992010-09-22T13:17:00.005-05:002010-09-22T13:27:16.235-05:00

Yes, the title of this blog post is narcissistic in nature, but I am honestly wondering why, Why, WHY people like touching me! Last night at work no less then 6 people grabbed my nipples, a few more than several times. I'm guessing it's because the men and women I work with know I'm a homo, therefore rendering me non-threatening, sexually speaking that is. But the ass grabbing? Jesus, one of the

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-85100415995107946472010-09-16T00:03:00.004-05:002010-09-16T00:25:13.813-05:00

In addition to my usual Barback/Busser/Bartender/Server duties at work, I am also expected to be the DJ. This isn't a "task" per se, more like a perk, and also...REVENGE. I'll explain. The club I used to work at, when I was a Doorman, contained a sound system much, much too powerful for it's space. Those fucking speakers raped my ears for a year straight, often times with amazing, world class

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-68128138156993999042010-09-07T14:30:00.010-05:002010-09-07T15:01:49.032-05:00

No, not THAT (although I do). I spent my Labor Day weekend amongst the rolling hills of Galena, IL, the occasion for which was the wedding of an old, dear friend of mine from high school. A person whom I don't see often (enough), but whom I can always pick right up where we left off. It had been almost a year and a half since I've been this far from Chicago proper, and although I get nervous

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-44907450779807010672010-09-02T18:47:00.007-05:002010-09-02T19:14:46.029-05:00

Japanese restaurants have never been my thing; they are inherently expensive, too formal and smell like raw fish. I'm not a fan of any of those things. So, why I thought I could work in a place where I couldn't turn my back on the Head Chef for more than a brief moment...I don't know. I worked a single shift on Monday night, for 5 hours and it was an experience that utterly bewildered me. Did I

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-48970442289443959132010-08-29T06:58:00.006-05:002010-08-29T07:41:40.701-05:00

It's been a fucked up week, to say the least, and I think it's manifesting itself in a series of bizarre, strange and terrible "dreams" that have contributed to my latent propensity for insomnia. Here's a quick run-down of the shit I've experienced this week:-Might have to fly to Phoenix and propose an intervention for my Mom (for drinking like a Rock Star, and not in a good way). My Stepfather

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-89089050611715120322010-08-25T13:05:00.005-05:002010-08-25T13:22:47.358-05:00

Every week or 2 I count out all the cash I make in tips; I get nervous keeping all this cash on hand, so I make it a habit to deposit it on a regular basis. So when I am about to make a deposit, I take time to count all the bills in my possession not once, not twice, but three times (I'm awful at math) and even place them in the same direction, carefully unfolding any errant corners. Counting up

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-64303909340394553782010-08-19T14:48:00.002-05:002010-08-19T16:44:45.192-05:00

I was raised with the belief that I could always depend on my parents; I've lived my life as such. Had this not been the "deal", perhaps I would have taking a liking to electrical engineering, or taken a few CAT classes. Never in my wildest dreams would I ever think they both, almost at the same time, collapse around me. I'm almost 31 years old, and I'm capable, reliable, etc, but I still retain

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-42104243607938409072010-08-17T13:39:00.008-05:002010-08-17T14:17:15.638-05:00

"Nobody told me it'd be easy or for that matter be so hardbut it's the living and learning that makes the difference and makes it all worthwhile"-Drive By TruckersHow true the above lyric rings to me. In the preceding 7+ months I've grinded out a living as a lowly Bar Back, making $6/hour + tips, taking all kinds of shit from shit from people that have been doing this kind of work for years and

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-77312773659915713382010-08-11T13:56:00.004-05:002010-08-11T14:51:05.394-05:00

For a painfully white, homosexual Canadian, I listen to a fuck load of hip-hop, the dirtier the better. Is this odd? Perhaps it falls in line with my "everything is urban is awesome" ethos, but I just cannot hang with poppy music. Unless it's British Pop (I love you Foals!). My very first hip-hop recored was KRS-ONE "I got Next" and it was all over. I was hooked. Just last night I busted that

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-57982890698982816172010-08-09T09:24:00.004-05:002010-08-09T09:46:44.322-05:00

I know, I know, please trust me when I tell you that I'm not into shoving my erect cock into cats faces. This is none other than my new prized possession; a water gun shaped conspicuously like "Justin Junior", that my friend (love you for this) purchased on my behalf. My other buddy and I spent the last afternoon smoking pot, drinking beer and taking shots of whiskey when I pulled this thing

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-40726120876379256922010-08-06T01:44:00.008-05:002010-08-06T03:08:36.864-05:00

This weekend marks the 7th month of my employment as a Bar Back, a profession for which I certainly never excepted to find my in, yet here I am, barely able to find more than 2 consecutive days off, knees, shot, relationships affected at best, voided at worst. Yet here I stand, er sit.I refrained from posting because I realized that not even my close friends, let alone acquaintances, to say

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-43994330501554932922010-07-22T12:28:00.006-05:002010-07-22T12:40:10.013-05:00

FOR weeks now I've been planning a proper Viking Funeral for my beloved Adidas Supermods; these currently out of production sneakers have done so much more for me than I ever could have expected. But it was time they go, and I wanted to send them off right. So I did the only slightly reasonable thing I know how to do: my friend and I took them to the back alley behind my place, doused them with

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-32753344902671072672010-07-21T20:21:00.004-05:002010-07-21T20:45:56.383-05:00

Someone asked me last night, if when engaging in "adult relations" would I pump the brakes if bad music was on. And without thinking I immediately responded "FUCK YES". It's happened before; I'm not so romantic that I try to set the mood with music, but I'll back that train up for a second if R.E.M. is on the stereo. I can't get down with that shit. The person that asked me disagreed, but really

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-50742721140505447022010-07-21T12:01:00.006-05:002010-07-21T12:42:11.677-05:00

Wow, so, I made it through World Cup and I have the scars and bruises to prove it. That shit was fucking hard. There were days when I closed the bar at 2AM, got home at 3AM, and had to turn around to be back at 8AM. Some days, 6AM (damn time zones!). I'm still undecided on how serious Americans are about Soccer (yeah, that's what I call it). Mostly ex-pats were most into it, and they were cool,

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-31303314266878516852010-07-06T18:32:00.010-05:002010-07-06T19:02:53.185-05:00

Working at a bar is fun, not always, and these 80+ hour work weeks are beating the shit out of me, but whatever. My co-workers and I keep the mood light by mercilessly making fun of one another. Since I'm the token gay, most of the barbs lobbed at me are of course gay related. It's good natured fun. Plus I think I'm decent at shoveling shit right back at them. Anyways, a few days ago someone

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-29549687524640544902010-07-01T12:50:00.003-05:002010-07-01T13:03:45.660-05:00

Yeah, my Dad has embraced his [shudder] sexuality to the point that he refers to that east coast mecca of gay debauchery, aka, Provincetown, MA as "P-Town". He and his former model, Korean interior designer and their puppy rented a cottage there this weekend. Anyways, I'm happy for them; it's kinda almost cute but I don't want to think about it too much. Not too mention, I'll be stuck working my

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-41583898133376033822010-06-24T18:20:00.004-05:002010-06-24T18:31:26.773-05:00

It's been a long, long time since I've had any discretionary income, and I'm spending it almost as fast as I make it. Not entirely on stupid shit, but mostly on non-consumable items I've been meaning to buy, like a new stereo ($50), new jeans and shorts ($60) and new music (The Gaslight Anthem). Fuck it. I've been breaking my back, working my ass off, and missing out on various social experiences

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678832088554311537.post-46598398810299272762010-06-17T13:44:00.006-05:002010-06-17T13:48:36.721-05:00

Last night around 1AM or so I was smoking a cigarette out on the street, when a Meathead and his requisite petite blonde girl stroll past me. Here is exactly what I overheard:MEATHEAD: "When we get back to your place I am taking your clothes off."PETITE BLONDE: "...[high fives the Meathead]..."THE END

JUSTINhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14998421667028223412noreply@blogger.com10