2009: A Year of Suck
NOTE: I get that things could have been so much worse for me. I didn't get AIDS from my prison cellmate after a night of "aggressive cuddles," nor was my entire family wiped out by the militant army of a psychotic jungle dictator (or whatever is happening in Darfur; I don't really follow the news). All I'm saying is that this has been a shitty year and I want to whine about it on the Internet. Join me, won't you?
I left NYC - This one really stung. I liked my life in New York City. I had a funky-colored apartment and a cool girlfriend and a job that was... not satisfying, exactly... but was at least lifestyle-sustaining. Then it all went to hell. Job went bye-bye, the economy shit all over our collective nice linens, the relationship changed into a much more complicated and not internet-shareworthy situation, and then I just flat fucking ran out of money. So it was back to Texas with my fat, white ass. I cannot tell you how much I miss New York. Particularly when I get a craving for a salami sandwich at 2am. Granted, I could just keep salami and some hard rolls around my apartment so I could make myself one when the need arises, but that's SOOOOO not the point. Oh, and I also miss all my friends that I barely talk to anymore because I'm lazy with correspondence. That too.
I hurt both my ankles in two separate, equally stupid accidents - Other than a broken arm when I was ten and a couple of corneal scratches (also due to my own stupidity), my life has been relatively free of serious injury. I mean, it's not like I'm out there diving into rugby scrums or regularly calling bouncers "pantywaists" or anything, but still... shit does happens, but until this year said shit very rarely happened to me. 2009 found me first falling off a ladder, landing squarely on my left ankle and giving it a severe fucking up. Then the year witnessed me tripping off a curb and doing exactly the same thing to my RIGHT ankle. So now I've got two bad joints supporting all 300 pounds of my unappealing frame for the rest of my life. It's only a matter of time before they both just give up on me and I'm forced to spend the remainder of my days suing the local bars for not having doors big enough to accommodate my Rascal.
I got a shitty job - I'm currently working at a terrible sports bar run by idiots that caters to the worst of humanity who tip 10% (if that) and it all makes me think of that Talking Heads lyric, "Oh my god, how did I get here?" Except when I say it, I'm not wearing an oversized suit and being all post-modern awesome like David Byrne. No, when I say it, I'm sobbing into an order of buffalo wings and trying to tamp down the urge to defecate into the chili that's going out to the asshole redneck who SNAPPED HIS FINGERS as a way of alerting me to his obese daughter's desperate need for another in a long line of Shirley Temples. It is convenient to work in a place that features a well-stocked bar... I'll give you that one... but that's a double-edge sword that often cuts the wrong way. Right across my liver. Speaking of which...
I started drinking heavily again - We've had a lot of fun on ZFS! with regards to my love of the booze, but a lot of it was just a bunch of jokey-jokes trumped up for comedic effect. These days, those jokes are a lot less funny. The fact of the matter is this: Arlington, TX is a motherfucking depressing town. I love it... it's my hometown... but nonetheless, it's a sucking chest wound of blandness. Don't get me wrong, it's a great place to raise a family and all that, but being here as a single man... one who's lived in Austin, LA, and New York... Arlington, to say the least, is found to be lacking. So, to combat the feeling of being crushed to death by large, beige rocks, I've been drinking more and more. Healthy! Coping is my speciality! My liver looks like a dead possum!
I've gained a bunch of weight - Arlington has a lot of fast food options, many of which are open late. When I'm not drinking my feelings, I tend to eat them. That's what we call a recipe for disaster, or at least a recipe for a fat ass and a huge, swingin' gut. The obvious question is: Why don't you show a little self-control and stop eating Crunchwraps and cheeseburgers all the goddamned time, tubby? My only response to that is... well... I don't HAVE any self-control. So there.
ZFS! died - Still not sure what happened with that, or what I'm going to do about it. It does make me sad, though. I've really enjoyed writing this blog the last few years and I think you guys enjoyed reading it, too. I'm trying to figure out if I want to keep going with ZFS!, or if I maybe want to start a NEW blog... something a little more reflective of my life as it is right now. See, the thing is this.... ZFS!, to me, has come to represent a time in my life that ended this year. I'm no longer the sassy NY-based wiseacre that made lists of which pants were the worst. I'm now a guy who's trying to put his life back together, and that in my mind doesn't really jibe with the ZFS! ethos. Or maybe I'm just being a pussy about it (a distinct possibility). Anyway, I'll keep you guys... whoever is left out there... posted as to what comes next. Whatever the case, I do know one thing: 2010 has got to better than 2009. A low bar to clear, but nonetheless.