Runway Models, Cadillacs, and Liquor Bottles

I feel like I'm a one-man marriage. I work full time, make all the money, pay all the bills, and supply all the necessities; yet, I'm also the one who does the dishes, the laundry, and takes care of the pets. Which for this metaphor would be the children. Don't let that one slip by you. This relationship is incredibly dysfunctional.

There was a soirèe last night in Brighton which I attended with complete and total strangers. I find myself doing that a lot lately, which is more than fine by me. Sort of grants me that grand fresh start that I've wanted for a while now.

Sometimes I feel like my life is a sitcom; sometimes I feel it's a bad film noir. Other times, it's like a video game, but the bad guys always shoot you faster than you can shoot them and there's no restart button.

But off we went. I spent a great deal of time with my old friend Jack Daniels. We drank, we sang, we kissed. It was a good time. I need more of that, I think, but the setting's never right. There are all of these moments where I feel like I'm doing exactly what I should be doing when I should be doing it, but the details are distorted, and the people are all looking at you strangely because you haven't finished your rum and coke. I think too much.

I can't wait to get out of this town.

I've been out of the loop for so long, I don't even know what the hot communities going are. Some suggestions, s'il vous plait.

Somali Pirates Attack French Navy Ship 'By Mistake'

Really, when you think about it, it's probably not too difficult to confuse a French Navy ship with a harmless cargo vessel. But I digress.

Could you believe that, after all that fuss; all the fretting and mental preparation and excitement over going out with the hot Pakistani guy at the convenience store, it would turn out that he's completely straight. I guess where he comes from, going out for a drink with a random guy that, not for nothing, looks like he's a total queer is something that straight guys do. We hung out last night at two in the morning. We found a pair of bent sunglasses on the ground. He gave them to me. It was love.

By the way, he's Nepalese, not Pakistani.

Given that I haven't written a real Livejournal entry since at least 5 phases of life ago, I've decided that I'm not going to bother trying to play catch up here with all of the myriad of happenings and developments that have come about any given area of my life over the last, oh, two years. One of the major reasons I didn't update teir_garten more often after long absences is because I somehow felt the need to recap everything that had happened since the last update. The task would become so overwhelming that the very idea of writing in my Livejournal didn't seem appealing anymore. So fuck it. I'm not going to waste my energy on it.

I got a job offer the other day from the restaurant next door from my current place of employment. They just finished putting in a salumi bar and a cheese program, and they offered me a night position making approximately 30% more an hour than what I'm making now being their primary maitre fromager. The position would have been three or so days a week for a few hours a night. Nice extra paycheck and a bit of experience in a classy restaurant.
I told my boss about it, unsure as to whether or not that would technically be considered competition for my current job at Venda. His response was a resounding "absolutely not." in that "I'll-fire-you-if-you-so-much-as-fill-out-the-application" tone of voice. Needless to say, I did not fill out the application. Shame, too. That extra money would have gone a long way. In this economy, it's practically idiotic to turn down a job offer.
Had the restaurant not been literally a door down from my current job, I probably would have accepted the job and not said a peep to my boss about it, but something about having to enter my second job incognito doesn't exactly sound appealing. C'est la vie.

I finally mustered the energy, testicular fortitude, and pride to ask out the attractive, long-haired, Pakistani guy who works at the convenience store on Atwells Avenue. Wouldn't you know that he said "Absolutely, I would love to have a drink with you sometime"? Talk about an ego-boost. A response like that implies excitement, or at the very least confirms that he'd had his eye on me, too. That's a good sign. I gave him my number and told him to give me a call when he was free. His name's Nate and I'm not actually 100% positive that he's Pakistani, but his eyes are explicitly Asian, yet his skin tone suggests Middle Eastern. He could be Filipino. All I know is that I am, indeed, waiting by the phone. I'm trying to get better at this whole dating thing. Trouble is that until recently, I had no coaching, or even someone to point me in the right direction when it comes to interacting with the (same) sex in that sort of capacity. Adam and Renae have informed me that I am not to go into that convenience store until he, A) has called me; or B) has failed to call for at least four days. The dilemma there is that they're the cheapest cigarettes in town. Bollocks.

New journal. Yeah, we got a great deal on it. Thanks, I liked those cabinets the best. Bathroom is down the hall on the left.

Still settling in. Regularly scheduled programming will resume shortly.