A Dizzy In The Lizzy
(02/22/2003; 12:21pm) - People in Jersey have terrible fashion sense.
Okay, so right after the previous post I decided to order my RAM online. It was $40 cheaper
than it woulda been at Tekserve. Nice.
Also coming in the mail is my V-Day gift for my GF which I'm excited about. Coooool...
Welcome to the land of spending too much money again.
I got on MapsOnUs.com and got the directions to the Bobert, who was in a random
"Whole Foods Supermarket" in Edgewater, NJ. God only knows why.
Hauled ass up to 125th St under the West Side Highway to grab my bro's car. Drove
to Edgewater. Got the Bobert. Missed an exit, crossed the GWB again back into
Manhattan, turned around, went back, navigated the hellish New Jersey roads and
parkways all the way to Paramus Park Mall where I was to meet
Matt, a kid I work with. He moonlights as a manager at Tommy Hilfiger. He gets a huge
discount. Friday he told me to come to his store to buy cheap clothes. Okay.
Me and the Bobert get there and Matt's not there. He called in sick. Thanks dude, I'm
gonna knock you out at work on Monday. Me and the B-Man went to Pac Sun instead.
I bought him a belated X-Mas sweater with flames on the sleeves. Very Bobert. I bought
myself a cool puffy black jacket and I got a free sweatshirt with Bobert's sweater. Dark
blue, XXL, Lost Brand. Says "...Lost"on the front in white.
Me and B kicked around the mall for a while, low blood sugar and empty stomachs
forcing us to wander aimlessly. I also fielded a call from a female friend on the other side
of the country who seems to have perpetual boy troubles, despite her cute and mysterious
nature. She really just needs to chill.
I had to consciously subdue my urges to tell her how insanely great my relationship with
my GF is. She knows anyway; she reads the Dizzy. I don't wanna rub it in her face but I'm
sorta dying to tell someone all about it. No one seems to want to hear it. People would rather
hear that you're miserable. Fuck that. If this has to be my own little amazing secret, fine.
I don't think anyone will ever know all the details, all the things that make my relationship so
great. It's my treasure, I guess, one I can't really share. Oh well.
B out, still making this weekend great.
(02/22/2003; 12:13am) - Two fingers raised to my forehead.
This sort of thing really works. If you want to have a good time, you will.
Last night I napped in the evening and then went to the Roxy to see/hear Paul van Dyk spin.
It fucking kicked ass. I got the VIP treatment at the door, danced all night to awesome music,
got leg cramps, didn't care and danced more.
Met a bunch of kids I used to party with at Vassar, the elite VT crew. That was absolutely great.
Stayed till close. Took a cab home w/ my girl. Showered, ate, brought my laundry to the lady
across the street. Her door was coming off its hinges so I ran home & grabbed my cordless drill
and went back and put some new screws in it. I earned my merit badge for community service
and with that I have officially gone from a "Bear" to a "Webolo." With many years of hard work,
I hope one day to become and Eagle Scout.
Maybe now I'll go downtown and buy more RAM for my comp.
Later on I may drive to Paramus Park Mall. Don't ask.
Benny out, going to continue having a great weekend. Scout's Honor.
(02/21/2003; 02:26pm) - By Royal Decree: this weekend shall kick ass.
Things are OK, aren't they?
They are OK.
The only problems are those that one recognizes as such.
Without the conscious application of the word "problem" to anything, there will be no problems.
It's good to be King, what with all the royal decrees.
"I declare this to be great!"
And bang, it's great.
Why?
Cuz I said so.
It's good to be King.
Stop watching the news.
Instead, watch your heart, watch your head, watch your body go through the motions of life.
This is the way it should be.
By Royal Decree, this is the way it shall be.
It's good to be King.
B
(02/20/2003; 12:27am) - BTF. Removed.
At my lawyer's suggestion, I am removing my anti-Bally Total Fitness diatribe which previously appared here while we pursue cancellation of my contract.
B
(02/19/2003; 11:48am) - Gulping down milky sadness, and the sun rises again tomorrow, and the day after that...
Anyone who tells you that love is not inextricably linked to pain has never truly loved anything.
A day or so ago my GF and I had our first fight; the reasons and motives behind that fight are as inconsequential as they are petty.
The long and the short of it is that GF blew up and I defended myself. The argument was groundless; we were both exhausted from a long weekend. Tuesday I came into work feeling like I had been run over by a truck.
The possibility that my fairy-tale relationship was over seemed very real. The foundations of this relationship are basic: honesty, love and respect. As with any structure resing on 3 columns, it would become unstable and crumble should one of the supports be removed.
So Tuesday I laughed, but the laughter was false. I smiled but it was forced. I held my head in my hands at several points to keep the world from spinning. I imagined life without her, I played out the future scenarios: the possibility that love might escape me entirely from this point forward, the women I would never respect, the bars I would punch people in, the snowy streets I would trudge down alone. The contempt for "love". The disillusionment, the hell that is one man's lonely battle against a negative world. I saw all this in my mind's eye. My whole life played out and then I died inside. I saw the overgrown grave with a view of the East River, the chipped headstone reading "One Man Dies Alone, The World Remains Unchanged".
It was a bleak and bleary world where no one viewed Plum Blossoms By Moonlight.
A grey moon reflecting off black water.
And then she called me. And roses bloomed again.
(02/16/2003; 06:52am) - LET JESUS FUCK YOU!
I mean, if he's just wilin' out and horny, you wanna show the dude a good time, right? I mean he's gonna
tell hiscrew he fucked you anyway, and that you're a chickenhead slut, so you may as well get laid for
real. Yo, I hear he's a great fuck too, so why not? He's circumcised. That's just better, you know? Like,
those uncircumcised cocks are just weird looking, you know? Fuck that shit.
Yo, and Jesus can get you mad shit. I mean if he can turn water into wine, think about how many clubs
he can get you into. Jesus never waits in line, the crowd just parts for him. He drives a Bentley that he
didn't even have to buy, the company just GAVE that shit to him. The leather's mad soft, and he put a
dope system up in there. Shit rides on 22s! It's phat, I saw it on the West Side the other day. You can
ask my cousin Day-Day, he saw that shit too.
Motherfucker must be takin Viagra too because my girl Jessica got with him last week and she said they
fucked all night. She couldn't hang. She had to tell him to get off at like 8AM because she was working
the opening shift at Duane Reade. She had to open the store up. Yo, tell me that mother fucker Jesus didn't
come into the store 20 minutes later and buy some more condoms!!!! Jessica was like, WHAAAAAT?!
But what are you gonna do? Jesus is a pimp, I mean he's a player for real. Every day I hear about that
motherfucker gettin with another bitch from Queens or some shit. He's crazy. He don't need to sleep,
you know that? My man just cruises from one bitch to the next. He be on the cellie all the time, Verizon
gives him all the free minutes he wants. Lucky motherfucker.
My sister Tina was all up in my face about wanting to fuck a Jew, but DAMN, girl, you don't know shit till
you been fucked by the son of God.
Straight up.
(02/14/2003; 10:03am) - Where Breakfast Lasts Forever.
Hello, my name is Benny and I am a hypocrite.
I'll admit it.
Our site-op and countless others will tell you that I'll rant and rave on some topic, about how stupid something is, and then I'll go and do it myself.
It happens constantly. But that's what makes me so special! I keep people on their toes. As soon as I convince you that I would NEVER, EVER do something, I turn around and do it.
Bobert's typical response?
"You're an idiot."
My current idiotic act can be more fully understood by reading my previous blog entry. For lack of a more creative, personalized V-Day gift for my GF, I went to one of the most typical, overexposed "OhFuckLastMinuteVDayGift" stores in Manhattan to find something. Well, to my credit, I poked around their website and found something that I could afford and that I know my GF would love. It is one of those things I said the idiotic masses give their girlfriends. Ugh. Hypocrite. But it is mad pimpin' nonetheless.
Unfortunately, I can't reveal where I'm shopping or what the item is yet until I actually give it to her. And they were out of the exact item I wanted so I have to wait a couple days before I can get it. They're going to call me when it come in. She doesn't really read this blog but I wanna keep it a surprise. Rest assured I will blog about the item and her reaction next week. Yay! I'm excited.
I still think V-Day is wierd.
Wish I didn't have to work today.
The upside: I didn't blow up yet today!
B out, sinning & grinning
(02/13/2003; 10:53am) - Notable quote
"That smell sounds familiar."
-my coworker Chris
(It should be noted that Chris is from Long Island, the Land of the Lobotomized)
(He's also dyslexic)
(And he's been dating the same fat girl for 6 years)
(I'm going to stop making fun of him now)
(02/13/2003; 05:22pm) - V-Day: this holiday is kinda weird.
Ahh, Valentine's Day. The bane of singles everywhere. The holiday where the most people feel alienated. It's basically like, "Hey, if you're not with someone right now that is totally in love with you, YOU SUCK!!!"
I never really liked it, the whole premise always made me uncomfortable. It's one of those perversions of an innocent idea, like Christmas: Let's all celebrate the birth of Jesus, a kind and gentle man. A leader of men, the physical representation of goodness and the possibilities of human kindness... by DEMANDING THAT EVERYONE BUY LOTS OF SHIT FOR EVERYONE ELSE!!! BWAHAHAHAHAA
Valentine's Day is like the same thing: Aww, you know, we should all show all the cool people in our lives how much we care, just drop all the pretense and celebrate the life of one of the kindest, most loving Saints to ever live.... BY BUYING LOTS OF SHIT FOR OUR LIFE PARTNERS!!!! Oh wait, you're single in mid February? YOU MUST BE SOME KIND OF FUCKING FREAK!!!!!
Well anyway, this February I find myself deeply in love with an beautifully insane girl. So I'm one of the lucky ones. But I feel for all my compatriats who are trudging ahead alone. Believe me, I know how that feels. Last Valentine's Day I was wallowing in the depths of self-pity. I thought nothing would ever get better. I hated life, I hated death, I hated sobriety, I hated the fickleness of females, I hated this day. I hated people who could share it with someone. I hated the idea that I was stupid enough to entrust a chunk of my heart, the most precious resource of my being, to another human. And I hated that she was dumb enough to take that trust for granted.
So it's no surprise to me that this year I sorta don't know what to make of Valentine's Day. Do I make a big deal or not? I know my lady is a tad strapped for cash and so what she gets me will not be big. Whew. Pressure's off a bit. I don't have much money either. And I know that she laughs at people's attempts to buy her love with material posessions. She's smart enough to recognize that love is more precious than any piece of jewelry or clothing or whatever the fuck normal idiots give their significant others.
In that light I need to be creative (thank god I'm good at that too) and either make something or do something really cool for her. I could buy something but it's gotta be really special.
I went to hardware store today to pick up materials for what I wanted to make for her, but the salesman told me that razor blades are made of a very brittle metal and that and attempt to shape them by bending would have them shatter into several very sharp shards. So my idea of making her a rose out of barbed wire and shaped double-sided razor blades was a no-go. I suppose I could increase the malleability and decrease the brittleness of any metal by heating it up, but then I'm working with very very hot, very sharp pieces of metal that could still explode into flesh-shredding missiles at any given second.
So anyway, here I am, wondering what to do.
I'm leaving work now to wander around midtown checking out my prospects.
Here's to an uneventful V-Day for us all. I love getting emails from cowrokers saying that a guy with a "smart bomb" is somewhere in Manhattan, intending to blow us up on Valentine's Day.
B out, shaken but not stirred
(02/11/2003; 04:56pm) - a whisper in the morning
"I see the world to comfort myself; and it is a lack of interest in the pain
of others, I know others feel pain, but well, I cannot really dwell on it.
All I know is this:
Where I will find and touch you- that would be the final link. I will know
then, in that physical moment, the answer to
everything."