Some Questions

typing here is a little weird considering i've been gone for a month and have a hard time remembering what you know and what you don't. but i thought i would take this two 0' clock space to answer some questions i've been getting.

i argued with myself and my friend alex whether or not this would be an egotistical thing to do-- a sort of unnecessary q & a-- but he sold me on the idea that "it doesn't matter, because blogs are inherently egotistical."

so how about it. here are the three most popular questions:

do you have a job?

yes, i have two. but i could really use a third. or just a different one of the two. i think when i lost my internet i had let everyone here know that snapdragon was ending and it has-- it ended december 1 and today i'll be turning in my last renderings of snapdragon purchasing prostitutes. a solid end.

david had told me he would connect me with any of his former co-workers and friends if they were in need of an illustrator, but i mostly considered that a nice thing to say to someone you're laying off.

and then this came:

Steven - I want to introduce you to Russell. Russell is a great guy I met a while back in the startup world. I saw on FB that he was looking for an Illustrator, and I jumped at the chance to introduce him to you.

Russell - Steven is the illustrator and inspiration behind Snapdragon. He's an amazingly talented illustrator, a great guy, and a ton of fun to work with.

I'll let you take it from here...

-David

i couldn't believe he... actually did what he said he would. i mean, by no means did david do anything short of what he promised every time he promised. but i've gotten into the habit of not trusting anyone and their promises. i can thank previous employers for that.

so now, i work for russell.

essentially, what you can do is send us a paragraph about the defining moment in a relationship of yours-- be it with your significant other, your parents, whomever-- and i will draw that moment as a simple and quick cartoon and have it sent to you as a greeting card, a poster, a bookmark, whatever.

for instance:

...I had been too nervous to kiss her, but as we began to walk in the grass, she took my hand. I knew this would lead to the moment; I swear there was a sparking, tingly current of excitement and expectation running between our intertwined fingers. It was dusk, and seemingly in response to the electric attraction between us, what looked like hundreds of fireflies began to dance their way up from the grass. It made us both giddy; we couldn’t seem to control our laughter at the obvious romanticism of the moment. And finally, as she lowered her chin from a hearty belly giggle, I swept in quickly for our first kiss, holding it until I was forced to remember to breathe.

it's a really cute concept-- though i don't know i'm fit for something so emotional and romantic considering i wake up wondering if i've broken up lesbian couples-- but i'm psyched to be a part of something so unique.

so that's my new illustration job: not nearly as great pay, and much newer to the game than snapdragon was, but fun nonetheless. you can check it out here, but be aware it is in a very early stage of development.

also, i'm still at the shoe store. i don't see that one lasting through the end of the month, though.

are you really intoxicated during your intoxicated poop segments?

without getting too far into the specifics, it's difficult to answer this question. i can say that i am not necessarily more intoxicated during the intoxicated poop segments than i am during any other post. it's not a lie or a joke that i come to this blog a bit tipsy, but i don't care to explain my definition of "tipsy" at this time.

the reason the intoxicated poop segments are called what they are, is because the very first one was the very first post i'd written high. yes, high, not drunk. it was also the first post that didn't have proper capitalization or paragraph breaks. but it was designed as filler-- for days i had nothing to write about-- which i'm sure you all know by now and my 80-something poop posts. in that, it needed a name that would stand out to some level. intoxicated poop segment: part i. but there was no moment that i sat down and said, "okay, from here on out i'm going to pound four shots of whiskey and write about poop" or "bong-rip, bong-rip, post."

the title is about as accurate this blog's subtitle. i haven't been a tour guide in almost two years. but things stick.

how many people read this blog?

answering that right now would be like answering how i'm feeling after being hit by a mail truck: it's just generally not going to be a very fair response if you're curious about things as a whole.

given my lack of internet and techboy's amazing knack for boring us to new levels (smoochies!), i dance between 30 and 70 hits. the highest amount of traffic happened as a result of my handwritten letter to starbucks: that day was 271 people, but it was rare at the time. the steadiest peak (which was during the time i was trying to be fired from my job) had me at a constant 120 or so.

if you're curious, my busiest days are mondays-- followed by wednesdays-- and a great majority of the people reading are doing so from an office job. most people use macs, and live in either the bay area, portland, or new york. there are a scattered few from places like wisconsin or outside of the united states.

also, england has the highest amount of accidental arrivals by searching for "dog dildos" out of any other country.

oh, and while blogger says i have 45 followers, i promise you that is not true. i mean, it is. but it's not. when i first started this blog, i actually forced several people to follow it in hopes to paint the image that people were actually reading, and therefore subsequently causing other people to read. i actually forced masha, my ex, to follow the blog and make sure to include a photo so that her thumbnail didn't show up as that androgynous silhouette. i thought it would look better to have girls following. then guys automatically follow.

it made sense in my head.

anyway, when things are healthy, this blog gets something like 80-90 visitors a week day and 60 on weekends.

i'm not too sure why. but i do appreciate it. it makes me feel a few notches less crazy.

Dear Everybody in Shrek

what happened?

i was over at jasmin's cafe and saw that there's another shrek movie coming out. it was a spin-off and something to do with the donkey.

how many movies is that so far? shrek, shrek 2, and then there was the year that practically everyone made a trequel and you guys were all in shrek the third. then there was shrek forever after and now you mean to tell me there are spin-offs, too?

what happened eddie murphy? what happened mike myers? even you, cameron diaz, what happened? are they seriously offering you that much money, or have you thought this into something that will potentially reach and affect the hearts of millions of children-- and therefore is worth more than all the world's money can buy?

i cry for my future children: the ones who will grow up thinking eddie murphy is just some goofy guy who does the voice of a side-character in a quadrilogy. they will only know you from movies like disney's the haunted mansion, eddie. they will never know the eddie murphy who did raw; the eddie murphy who had an entire bit on why a black man would never end up in a haunted mansion...

what happened to you?

and mike myers why did you sell your soul to all of those logos? when starbucks showed up in the the magical world of shrek i stopped to wonder if you even cared about your movies anymore. you do wonderful regional accents and i've been told that your english accent is one of the most realistic in hollywood. but why heineken, and pepsi, and meow mix?

it was funny in wayne's world when you and dana carvey blatantly advertised for companies like advil and pizza hut, only because you were both preaching about how horrible selling out is. but putting dr. evil's lair in a starbucks building is a little contrived. i get it: the joke is that starbucks is an evil company, looking to take over the world-- but the joke is made a lot less funny knowing you were paid for that placement.

now your movies are such a painfully low amount of good comedy, with such a painfully high level of product placement that i seriously wonder if you have forgot how to be funny.

cameron diaz my only complaint to you is that i wasn't older when you were in the mask. to this day, you-from-1994 is my biggest celebrity crush.

but eddie murphy and mike myers: shape it up. seriously.

worriedly,
president wishnack

Shoe Snippets

in light of the tour guiding snippets and credit card concierge snippets, i figured i may as well share some conversation from the shoe store.

the first one is long and i'm not sure if it's still quite a "snippet", but i'm also unsure if there is a word-count that determines the usage of "snippet". so there is one long one and a few regular sized snippets.

enjoy.

scents and such

i must've had almost ten different scents on me after it all. there is something that overwhelms me about showering-- i don't know if it's just that i'm very picky about the temperature of water, or if it just strikes me a bit boring when done alone and only with the purpose of cleaning. but it's overwhelming one way or another.

i did it because the shoe store can be a sweaty experience. one of the reasons i wanted a retail job was to discipline myself-- and in that way, it's working: i'm showering and doing laundry practically on a regular basis.

but i was covered in a gang of clean smells. my body wash is irish spring-- mostly because it's all the corner store sold-- and i use head & shoulders 2 in 1 shampoo. on top of that was toothpaste and listerine completed with burt's bees chapstick.

and then finally my cologne.

i only sprayed a single spray of the stuff, but even that felt a bit ridiculous. with my shampoo and toothpaste and all, what was another scent really going to do? i was starting to become an olfactory cake made with jelly beans, caramel, sprinkles, whipped cream, and everything delicious but no batter to balance it out.

dave and i discussed the superfluous aspects of cologne. and the possibilities of pheromones.

either way, the shower was necessary because i was headed to work and it was black friday. i would be there till midnight at the least, closing up the most creative display of disregard known to humankind.

"excuse me," she said in an english accent. she was chinese and i was briefly distracted by that.

"how's it going?"

"the display shoe is a 6.5, but i can't find the one it goes with. these shoes are really cute and i want them, but i don't think there's a pair," she explained.

"that happens all the time," i said, "people can be very creative with where they hide shoes, but they tend to be nearby. i'd be glad to help you find it."

i began looking through each box because there is no other way of finding a hidden shoe-- a mismate-- and i'd be lucky if the shoe was at least in the right aisle.

"oh, no," she said, "you don't have to look through all the boxes. it's okay!"

"it's okay," i said, "i'm here till midnight no matter what i do, this at least kills time."

she said something clever about how she was only affecting the way i would spend my hours and not the length of hours i would stay. it was smart and well-spoken, but i don't remember the wording and i'd probably butcher it.

"and here it is!"

the shoe was in the middle box on the very bottom row.

"thank you so much" she said,"this may sound odd, but can i ask you a question?"

"sure," i said, "go ahead."

"are you wearing cologne?"

"yeah, i am."

"is it by armani?"

"yeah, it is."

"is it gio?"

"haha, yes. wow."

"i like it."

"thank you, i can't believe you could tell what it was."

cheap and classic

call it what you will, but of all the jobs i've had there has always been an unfortunately reliable similarity: indian people will always ask for a discount. camera stores, pet stores, tour buses, improv shows, haunted mansions, haunted mazes, and even shoe stores.

if you've ever heard me mumble, "$70 is fine." you have heard me mimic the time i was selling $120 worth of tickets for $80 to a man who arrived later than he said he would. he looked me in the eye and stated, "$70 is fine." i laughed and told him $80 was fine before reminding him that he was late. and then he just repeated that $70 was fine as if he were a jedi and could persuade me quickly and effectively like religious bumper stickers try to do.

"you can't just say the price you want is fine," i said firmly, "and expect that i will hear it and decide you're right. $80 is fine. $80 is already a discount."

i almost didn't want to sell them the tickets after that conversation.

at the shoe store, two indian men waved me down to show me a pair of shoes and ask shoe-related questions.

"what is the discount?" the first man asked immediately.

$70 is fine.

"well," i said, "it's been marked down from $165 to $69. i suppose that would be the discount."

"but there is no discount?" the second man asked.

"besides the actual discount?" i asked.

"we saw these shoes at macy's for $120," the first man told me.

"okay," i said, "so if you were to buy these shoes here, you would be getting a discount."

"but there is no other discount?" the second man said with a smile.

i think i would hate the discount conversation so much less if it wasn't always presented with a smile.

i wasn't sure how i was about to respond and all i could think about were my times as a tour guide and this same experience. how certain countries were just more likely to cause a fit over a discount and leave without tipping.

and then a man stepped in.

"you guys saw these shoes at macy's for $120," he said, "and you see them here for $69, but you still want a discount?"

he looked at them for a response. nothing beyond blank smiles.

"you guys are awesome," the man said, "high-five!"

he put out his hand and they stared at it.

"another discount," he laughed, "high-five."

they high-fived him.

santa-con

on that day i saw a surprising number of santas near union square. i wouldn't have expected to see them somewhere so touristy, but they were there in great numbers.

a few santas and a few elves made their way to our shoe store and i talked to them immediately. i wanted to know if the event was still going on.

"oh yeah," santa said, "my buddies went to get beer but i figured i'd get shoes."

"right on," i laughed, "i've always wondered if this weirds kids out. you know: to see a bunch of santas smoking cigarettes, drinking beers."

"you're right," he laughed.

then it got a little awkward and so i told santa i'd be wandering about but he was welcome to tackle me if he needed any sort of assistance.

about ten minutes later he came to me.

"everything in this store is so beautiful," he said, "when you're on mushrooms."

what?

"are you?" i asked.

"yeah," he giggled, "and the lights and colors are so nice."

"wow," i said, "i personally wouldn't come here. but hey, if you're having fun! you should check out the elevators at the westin st. francis."

"good plan," he said fast, "i'm off!"

denmark to america to china from china

several people have approached me carrying a series of loose papers before, but they're usually just doctor recommendations, maps, or scientology literature. but there was a day an older man approached me with a piece of paper that had a tracing of a bare foot.

"can you help me find the size?" he asked.

"wow," i said looking at the foot-drawing, "that might be a little difficult. you don't know what size you're looking for?"

sometimes people from outside of america know their size only in, say, the european standard-- which would be a 39 rather than an 8-- and i thought maybe this man needed the same kind of help.

"no," he explained, "it's a surprise for my son. i can't ask him what size he is or he'll know i'm getting him the shoes."

"that's your son's foot?" i asked.

"yes," he said, "i need to find the size without him knowing."

"but how did you manage to trace his foot without him already knowing?" i asked.

"i am from denmark," he laughed.

i laughed, too. and i still don't know at what.

The Night Before Internet

i found myself feeling utterly powerless because of my lack of knowledge regarding mammalian orgasms and their average rate of success.

you see, we were having a debate about which mammal we would rather blow if we had to choose one. i don't remember the context, but i don't see it making this any better. the rules went that we had to choose an animal with a large enough penis that the unmistakable feeling of sucking on the part was apparent-- no mice or small creatures.

in my mind, the answer was easy: whichever mammal would come the fastest. if that meant i had to face a gorilla-- in all of its terrifying ways-- i would. i could die, but i could die during fellatio with any animal. at the very least, i'd like to get it over with quickly.

i heard once pigs orgasm for thirty minutes straight-- though i don't know what that means about the length of time it takes them to reach their climax.

and, yes, the other rule was that we'd have to suck said penis till it... reached fruition, if you will.

so if, let's say, a gazelle takes forty-five minutes to come, i'd rather deal with a notorious premature ejaculator-- even if it means being in front of what seems to be more imminent danger. i mean forty-five minutes is a long time.

but without the internet i had no way to know what animal that might be. i just sort of froze. the only thing my mind could do is begin to imagine which animal might just be the most pleasant to offer oral sex.

and that was a very weird place to watch my mind wander toward.

i quickly changed the subject to whether or not my roommates would have sex with a shape-shifting alien so long as it had transformed into a really hot girl. and then i went to bed next to my cell phone, waiting on comcast's call.

what i didn't know-- aside from information regarding the great orgasms of the animal kingdom-- was that my phone bill was due that night and i hadn't paid it because it's all done online. on the magical internet machine that i'd grown used to not having.

comcast came and left several times before i realized my phone was not operating and therefore the doorbell was ringing nobody.

but, as you can see, we did eventually wrangle the web and get online.

and it turns out i would give a chimpanzee a blowjob. they only last ten seconds.

also, it turns out that geese are the most commonly homosexual of all birds-- silly goose makes so much more sense-- and squirrel monkeys pee in each others faces whilst boning.

thank god for the internet, because these sorts of facts need to be known.

Sometimes Cupcakes are All it Can be About

i'm sleep deprived and confused. i'm feasting on a $3 cupcake while typing this sentence with one hand. simon is off in travis' room, eating an orange. in some ways it's neat we're doing it at the same time because fruit is basically mother nature's treat and cupcakes are humankind's treat.

anyway, the cupcake can be explained in the end. firstly, it is important to know i woke up at 7am to open the shoe store. secondly, know that i closed the shoe store last night and went out in between.

it's a strange morning at 7am, but much more strange when you wake up wondering if you've broken up a lesbian couple.

usually bad mornings mean only slightly better night-befores.

and this was no exception.

i have a crush.

i have a million crushes these days, but i also have a few real ones.

she's a girl i work with (maybe this is why i wanted a side-job?) and the first co-worker to go for drinks with me. we actually only had one-- she a martini, and i a manhattan-- but we stayed in the rain on top of macy's for over an hour, chatting.

"should we put it on separate cards?"

"let me pay for it," i said, "and you owe me a drink."

"deal."

"see, and it's a trick," i said, "because now you have to do this with me again."

she giggled a good giggle. i don't know how else to explain that and it's unfortunate because that giggle felt like it played one of the most important roles of the evening. it was a good giggle.

anyway, the lords of chaos would have it so i was scheduled the opposite days of her for the next week. there would be two days we would both work, but she'd be off at 3pm and i'd come in at 3pm.

during the week i texted her a few times, but very carefully. we had talked about guys who'd text her random off-putting cutesy wishes like, "sweet dreamz, beautiful." or "mornin', cupcake." i didn't want to be that guy.

though i did at one point text her, "sweet dreamz, honey bunches of oats!" to which she replied, "you too, babycakes."

this is not where the $3 cupcake comes in-- that's still at the end, though i do recognize i'm having a horrible time getting to the point or staying in order with this story. it's just i feel there are a lot of small details that are meaningful. like the fact the cupcake costed $3.

so. i didn't want to creep her out with texts, but if we were to go without talking for an entire week we would be basically erasing any magical feeling left over from the night on the top of macy's. so i texted her a little. a very precise little. i even made sure not to keep her texts in my inbox too long so that drunk-me couldn't find her name and text-harass her whilst whiskey-drinking.

okay, but more to the point:

we worked together last night.

i was more or less waiting for the shift to be over to go drink with this girl. it's amazing what a horrible worker i am when i'm thinking about a girl.

"my friends want me to go to a drag show now," she explained.

"ah," i said in my best me-not-being-sad voice, "well do enjoy."

"will you come with me?"

score.

"i want nothing more than to go to see drag queens with you," i said.

we walked from work to truck on folsom and sixteenth. that walk was half because of the muni and half because she had told me she liked going on walks and could never find someone else who did.

truthfully, she spent a lot of time explaining roommate-related drama that was currently on edge-- but i suppose we're all victim of something similar.

so i met her four friends whom i have named anna, joe, ben, and betty.

the drag show was about what i had imagined, and for a moment we had her friends convinced i was a drag queen on the side. the shoe store was just for the discounts.

somewhere in there, i traded jackets with betty because hers was a lengthy red coat with fake cheetah fur on the wrists and collar.

i figured i might be able to score more free drinks in that outfit. there was no real success but i realized she was carrying her passport as an id and she realized i was carrying a bacon sandwich in my pocket. and i realized i probably should've finished the sandwich but was already having my buy-one-get-one-free whiskey on the rocks.

there are gaps in a lot of parts, but i know we didn't stay at the drag show long before heading to another bar. our muni had the right number, but was headed the wrong way. though, technically, it was headed the right way and we were just on the wrong bus.

we did finally end up at q-bar. i'd never been there and i can only describe it as a sort of miniature club with flashy lights and a little stage with a sofa and some dancing patrons.

please note in the above sentence "patrons" is pronounced "pay-truns" and not "puh-trones" as that would be an entirely separate image.
more importantly, there were about ten australians and one belgian who had all booked a stay at a nearby hostel and stumbled into the bar unaware that it was a gay bar.

they were hungry for women and liquor, and until we showed up they were only able to solve the liquor problem. our group consisted of three guys and three girls.

also, to my knowledge, everyone in our group was single.

i'm not sure what the australian [whom i have named turd-waffles] whispered in my crush's ear, but he kept at it and certainly abused the "this music is so loud" excuse to be as near to her as possible.

i never thought i would be cockblocked at a gay bar.

at one point, i returned from a cigarette with ben and realized my crush was gone. and, according to joe, she'd left with the aussie. fuckin' turd-waffles. the one belgian man confirmed only before asking whether or not my two lady friends were in fact ladies-- he was more than paranoid in san francisco, but it makes sense given the location of his hostel.

"i just met them today," i said, "but i'd say they're ladies."

"oh good," he said relievedly.

"though we did go to see drag queens earlier."

while my crush was off with turd-waffles, i chatted with anna and betty. joe looked like he was going to pass out, i'm not sure where ben was, and there was a rumor about the four of them snorting a line of adderol before going out.

"do you like her?" betty asked me.

"yeah, i do."

"but do you like her like her?"

"well yeah," i said, "i thought that was what you meant."

"do you want to date her?" she asked.

"you're asking a heavy question there," i laughed.

"because she's weird," betty said, "do you want to date her if you have to deal with her randomly disappearing or doing random things all the time?"

"she's having fun," i said, thinking about turd-waffles.

"she talked to us about you after you guys hung out," she said, "she wouldn't have hung out with you that long if she wasn't interested."

"that's good," i said, "nice. it was fun."

"she said you worked with her and that you were hot," she continued, "but she under-exaggerrated. you're amazing."

i laughed at the sudden change of conversational direction.

"thank you."

and then she came in for a kiss at such a confident speed it felt like she was as sure it would go well as a girlfriend would be about her own boyfriend. and at that speed, i had a short moment to decide and just kissed her, too. i figured my crush was with master turd waffles of eastern australian doing their thang and i'm single-- so whatever, it's better than rejecting the kiss.

she pulled me to stand on the stage and dance with her. i danced. sort of. and she kissed me a lot more.

"it sucks that she left," i said, "because i don't really know anyone."

"don't worry. forget her," she said, "you know us."

and then she kissed me more.

anna kept calling my crush's cell and would occasionally tell me that she was on her way back. she seemed really worried and at the time i had taken it to be that she wanted things to work out for me and my crush. i thought she was trying to get her back so betty would back off and turd-waffles could give her up to me.

it made sense in my head.

we eventually met up at another gay bar and the australians and one belgian man followed. at that point i considered my crush a lost cause and truer to the verb "crush" than the noun. but i was drunk and enjoying myself nonetheless.

i did have to watch my crush give a great make-out good bye to turd-waffles, though. even now i'm not sure how i feel about that. if i care or not. i do know i could've gone without seeing it, though.

"we're going to head home," anna said about herself joe, ben, and betty, "do you want a ride?"

"you should stay with me and i'll cab you back," i whispered to my crush.

"i'm gonna stay," she said.

score.

i figured that no matter what had gone on with turd-waffles and his accent, i could still recover. i don't know if i was sure of what "recover" meant to me, but i know i didn't want the night to end without some form of hope for myself.

plus, denying the chance to bail with her friends seemed reassuring.

and i do promise there is a part about a $3 cupcake. it's just this is a very long story and we're nowhere near the end. but i wanted to let you know that i haven't forgotten and it will be back.

i can't honestly say i remember much about the final moment we had alone, but that is partly because it was short and interrupted by a phone call.

"anna and betty broke up," she told me after the call, "because you were dancing and making out with betty... apparently?"

they were lesbians that entire time? i suppose the three gay bars should've been a hint.

"wait, no," i stuttered, "i didn't know they were together. and she made out with me. if you put a somewhat attractive face near enough to mine quickly i'll kiss it. it was so not meant to cause trouble."

"she saw you making out with her," she said.

"but it so didn't mean anything! i have no reason to lie to you: she was the one making the decisions and i just went along. and she even seemed to be trying to convince me to stay away from you."

"really? that's weird. why would she do that?"

"because," i said, "i like you. it's retarded. i like you and i didn't mean to kiss that girl or break up any relationships. i wouldn't have if i'd known. but i like you. i've got a silly crush."

we talked about how she had known the entire time and then we talked about how i know she talked about me with her friends after our first hang out session. and the whole thing felt stupid because i had only confessed my crush in hopes to prove that i would not have been the one to make a move on someone else.

maybe it also came out because i was just sick of holding it in. but either way, it was hard to tell how mutual the feeling was or was not. it's also possible that she was just so overwhelmed and confused by the night there was no way for her to know what she felt any more than i can expect myself to make sense of it now.

"you should come home with me," i said. i didn't plan to have sex with her, but i wanted the whole "i like you" bit to end with some sort of "me too."

"i have to go to their house," she said, "and play mediator because of the break up."

"bah."

"i'm gonna be here everyday," she explained, "we're gonna have other chances to hang out. i just have to do this."

not a bad response to "bah."

i went home furious. i mean i went home in a cab, but furiously. and i was only furious in my mind-- on the surface, i was calmly drunk with a strawberry blonde resting her head on my lap. but i was furious and it was 4am.

no one enjoys potential rejections from crushes, but it certainly doesn't make matters easier when you find the escapades may have caused a lesbian couple to break up and you still didn't get to kiss her because she was busy with a tourist.

and it also doesn't help to have to be up at 7am for work.

waking up with a mind full of that kind of chaos reminded me of the time i woke up with a sore fist, sore butt, seventeen empty forty bottles, and a shattered plank of wood laying nearby. it was one of those detective days. simon equated it to his morning-after halloween, wondering why he was punched nine times in the neck and how he had ever found a baby anaconda.

those mornings are always strange mornings.

luckily drunk-me was trained enough to properly set two alarms. but i was still furious when i woke up. furious and confused.

i didn't change my clothes. i just rolled out of bed, put my shoes back on and grabbed my jacket.

oh, my jacket. my whore of a jacket. drunk-me did get that jacket back. but that jacket was missing $12, a small olympus audio recording stick, and a pack of gum. my cigarettes were smashed in their box and covered in brown fluid which was not scary enough to cause me to avoid my morning smoke this particularly horrible morning.

on the bright side, my burt's bees chapstick was not missing. though it's a terrible world when the bright side is that i still have some burt's bees.

i couldn't smile at the starbucks cashiers, and i couldn't smile at the tourists or my co-workers. i clenched my jaw into itself and my hand around my coffee and just stayed furiously confused for about fifteen minutes.

"okay," the manager said, "huddle topics: there's a new contest."

the before-shift huddles have always reminded me of flight of the concords and murray hewitt. this particular huddle was explaining that any store that sells more gift cards than it did last year will get prizes. and the winner of each district would receive one of three prizes:

"you can choose to win a $10 gift certificate to the store," she started, "get $5 and a lunch, or have one whole day of free food for everyone."

"pff," i laughed.

"what's that for?" the manager asked.

"the free food thing," i said still furious and still confused, "we were promised free food on black friday, too."

"there was pizza and cupcakes," she said.

"no, i know," i explained, "but i worked the night shift so i didn't get any. actually, i came in early and saw three sheets of ice cream cupcakes in the freezer and thought i would wait till my break to grab one because there were only twelve people working. but then i came back and people were licking their fingers and there were no cupcakes."

that was, quite possibly, one of the dumbest things i have ever complained about. but i was mad and perhaps not handling the previous night's chaos so well. i needed to complain about something and that something happened to be cupcakes.

i was assigned to the men's floor, which-- on a monday in the ams-- is about as action-packed as a sloth doing whip-its. it was empty shy of me and the minnetonkas and asics. the shoe horns and footie-socks. the sound of the endless escalator and the freedom of vacationing tourists outside.

after about fifteen minutes, christmas music came on the store speakers. christmas music is the worst medicine for hangovers, puppy-love triangles, and drag queens.

and for an hour, i was alone up there with the shoes and jingle bell rock.

at times i legitimately considered walking out of the store. even on its most interesting days, the job was never very mentally stimulating and it seemed that the giddiness of seeing my crush at work would probably no longer exist.

but i made it through the day. somehow. i remember realizing my wrist still had truck's stamp of approval: "genius" it said. that stamp allowed me to drink two-for-one whiskeys while watching drag queens dance. genius.

i felt like a moron.

at 12:55pm, just five minutes before my shift would be over and my nap could begin, my manager came in through our radios:

"steven," she said, "before you clock out to go home, i need to talk to you. come by the office."

god dammit.

i take the shoe store job only as seriously as i take ke$ha, and there could've been a number of reasons i was called to the office. i've discovered i am not nearly as great a worker when my rent does not rely on the job-- and i've hidden in no way the fact i do not understand the concept of shoe-shopping.

part of me was pretty sure i was going to be fired on account that i smelled like a gay bar or three and was glaring at every customer who entered the establishment. that same part of me would not have cared so long as the firing process went quickly enough for me to get home and nap before 2pm.

"you called for me," i said.

"ah, steven!" my manager said with a smirk.

there were three managers in the room, actually, and it reminded me of the winchester mystery house: any time i would get in trouble they would sit me before three bosses in order to intimidate me the same way lyndon b. johnson's swivel chair was designed to intimidate.

"ah, me!" i said back, "what's up?"

she pointed at a small box on her desk.

"that's for you," she said.

"what is it?"

"it's for you," she said again.

"why?" i said with a reasonable amount of paranoia after the night before.

"because," she started, "you didn't get a cupcake on black friday. so i bought you one."

well, god dammit indeed.

"oh, wow," i said, "that is so genuinely nice. i mean, thank you. that's almost just too nice. now i feel like a dick for complaining."

"no, no," she said, "don't feel bad. you need to complain so we know what we can fix. enjoy the cupcake!"

"oh i will," i said, "thank you-- seriously-- it's been a rare few days. i'm going to eat this at home so i can first prove to my roommates this really even happened."

and that is the cupcake i'm eating now. i mean, i'm not eating it anymore. i finished it way back during the first paragraph. and it was delicious.

it was a $3 cupcake.

Oh, Hello, Internet

it would be a strange world if we treated comatose hospital patients the same way we treat internetless blog authors-- slapping them across the face and asking when they might finally wake up, instead of showering them with hand-drawn "get well" cards.

or just giving up on them entirely and never even visiting the hospital.

i do want to thank the thirty people who continued to come to this desolate place during my absence-- it's depressing to see my visitor count drop from the low hundreds to the mid thirties, but i appreciate any pulse at all.

and i want to thank techboy for being a well-written jerk while my guard was down. someone really ought to write him a song because i'm pretty sure the hope for one is where 90% of his writing fuel is coming from. it could be called "he only finds the courage to write on a blog when it's not his own" though i'm not against altercations to the title.

this post is the worst kind of post-- i hate this post. it's only here to tell you i'm here. there isn't really any news or interesting happenings going on in this rambling text. it's kind of like those 30 second teaser trailers that cost $100 million and consist mostly of flying words and a few nondescript images in hopes to make you curious enough to then wait for the full-length trailer and, ultimately, the movie itself.

this is me sitting at a computer writing, "i'm back" and waiting for my numbers to react rather than coming in with an actual story knowing only thirty people will notice it.

it makes sense in my head.

i'm not even sure where to start, actually. in the past week i've had a very strange life and i don't think you've heard from me in the past month. i have a new job, a justin bieber doll, and an ever-growing fight with my penis and brain regarding our conflicting priorities.

things have been chaotic as every winter, and i have to say i'm happy things are going wrong again.

so come back, because COMING SOON: POWOWPWOPWPOWOOW IN 3D! FROM THE IMAGINATION OF PRESIDENT WISHNACK: ACTION, LOVE, ALIENS, FIERY EXPLOSIONS, AND DOG DILDOS!

Kill Shakespeare

So evidently there's this new comic book series that takes some of Shakespeare's greatest heroes and villains and forces them to share the stage in an epic quest to find their creator. Description below:

An epic adventure that will change the way you look at Shakespeare forever. 

In this dark tale, the Bard’s most famous heroes embark upon a journey to discover a long-lost soul.  Hamlet, Juliet, Othello, Falstaff, Romeo and Puck search for a reclusive wizard who may have the ability to assist them in their battle against the evil forces led by the villains Richard III, Lady Macbeth and Iago.  That reclusive wizard?  William Shakespeare.

A combination of “Fables”, “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen” and “Lord of the Rings”, Kill Shakespeare offers a remixed re-envisioning of the greatest characters of all-time, featuring action, romance, comedy, lust, drama and bloody violence.  It is an adventure of Shakespearean proportions.

THE PLAYERS

Hamlet
After his Father the King is murdered by Hamlet's Uncle the young Dane vowed revenge. However, after killing family friend Polonius with a blow meant for his Uncle, The Prince questions his thirst for vengeance and flees Denmark. Confused and distraught, Hamlet is now caught up in a destiny far greater than he could have ever imagined.

Juliet
A woman of high birth, Juliet's family spirited her away from Verona after her failed suicide attempt. Shamed by the death of her lover Romeo, Juliet swore to never again be so consumed by her own desires and has put all of her passion into fighting for the oppressed. She is now the key figurehead in the resistance against the evil Richard III.

Falstaff
A wonderful pain-in-the-ass, Falstaff is quick with both the jab and the jibe. While he plays the quintessential fool he possesses more wisdom and heart than most. A man of faith, Falstaff is unshakeable in his belief in Shakespeare as Creator.

Richard III
One of the most powerful and shrewd generals in the land, Richard oversees a growing nation built on the backs of his serfs. Along with his desire to create a legacy through the glorification of his name Richard seeks to crush all opposition and conquer further kingdoms.


Lady Macbeth
Beautiful and ruthless, Lady Macbeth has an unmatched thirst for power. Using her sexuality - and three witches as her council - she has subtly steered her husband's rise to prominence. But with Lord Macbeth now locked in a battle with Richard III the time is ripe for the Lady to step out of her husband's shadow.

Othello
After being deceived into killing his faithful wife Desdemona, Othello sought to murder his former best friend and lieutenant, Iago. Failing that task the great warrior has fled his home and rejected all rank and responsibility since. He operates strictly as a sword-for-hire and often takes dangerous risks - perhaps seeking death at another's hand as punishment for Desdemona's murder.

Iago
After fleeing from Othello's side Iago quickly attached himself to Richard III. Using wits and treachery the Spaniard efficiently moved up the ranks and is now one of Richard's most relied-upon deputies. But the corrupt influencer continues to play the odds, a charlatan who can easily change his allegiances.

Romeo
Saved from death by the Priest of Verona, Romeo was secretly taken away from his family and resuscitated. Taught and trained by the clergy to devote his life to Shakespeare the Creator, he believes that he can make a difference. Romeo has silently been lying in wait for the chance to strike a blow against Richard III, the great oppressor.

William Shakespeare
Myth, man, or something more? Does he - or did he - even exist? These are matters of theology that are debated in the market-stalls and fields of the land. Many cling to the hope that he shall re-emerge and end their misery. Others dismiss him as hope for the foolish and say that he - and any sort of prophesy - is simply nonsense.

Click here to check out the site

And you better believe that this will be an upcoming review.